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#i went from pretty much okay to VERY depressed really quickly and its so stupid
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Chara, the fourth Blook cousin:
A crack theory that accidentally become way more serious than it should have because it somehow, despite my best efforts, ended up making sense
Brought to you by my idiot conspiracy brain (affectionate) and by encouragement from my Tumblr followers
Under the cut for the sake of your dashes and sanity
Ok here we go my very elaborate accidental theory, because in order to answer the complex questions simply you must first make simple things more complex or something
First, you need to know that Chara became a Blook cousin by adoption.
All of the Blooks are adopted.
Ghosts are not born into families, they make their own.
Got it? Great, because we’re about to start running
so first, im gonna make surprisingly uncommon claim in this fandom, and I am going to say that undertale ghosts are all dead
I’m taking the tiny details we know about ghosts and sprinting with them to new places
Ghosts also do not have souls I decided
Undertale souls do not work the same as souls in traditional mythology
So every ghost is soulless Unless and Until they become corporeal
Evidence: Monster souls cant exist without bodies, and ghosts are monsters, therefore ghosts cannot have souls without bodies
Further evidence: Asriel doesnt steal blooky’s soul, blooky is unkillable, we have no concrete evidence that blooky has a soul
What about mettaton? He only has a soul after he has completely committed to being corporeal and to a specific body.
Also maddy and mettaton are both only killable while corporeal
Im also connecting the dots we have about souls in a new creative way so let me live for a second
Additionally, i am going to claim that there are a lot more ghosts than just the blooks, some evidence given below
Theres like actual scientific knowlege of ghosts in the undertale verse which seems unlikely if theres literally only three or four
The underground is so much bigger than you think, theres that giant forest in snowdin, a large town in the ruins, the huge city of new home, who knows how much space in the large open areas of waterfall etc. Its really really big okay
Also based off evidence of blooky, we can conclude that ghosts can turn invisible whenever they want to and/or haunt objects to hide
So I personally think that ghosts are, generally speaking, extremely reclusive
And the blooks are just a special exception, a beautiful family, amazing for them
So anyway im going with typical ghost lore for now, for the sake of ease, so im gonna say ghosts generally come from monsters who are particularly restless or unsatisfied when they die
HOWEVER i dont think they remember being monsters or anything before being a ghost. They just kinda fizzle into existance with a fully formed personality and immortality while being unkillable and feeling vaguely uneasy
ALSO i personally think that chara was a ghost for a long time before they became a blook by adoption
Based on game lore, i think ghosts can possess any inanimate object and just kinda wear it? But it takes a lot of strong emotion to become corporeal
And chara is the super weird exception because they were a human not a monster.
They dont have a soul (i headcanon that their soul got destroyed when asriel died)
And they KNOW this, which is a huge part of why they kinda just... give up
Because they lost their ability to fulfill prophecy
Also, without a soul, they lost their ability to reset, so for the first time since falling underground, theyre subject to the relentless march of time
But theyre still weirdly strong and powerful and more emotional
ALSO they DO still remember being a human but they catch on pretty quickly that other ghosts dont have memories and because chara is stupid they just lie to fit in
Theyre too tired to explain themself, they just want to be alone and feel awful
Now back to ghost lore
Emotions are a lot harder for ghosts??? I decided
And they dont know why,, they tend to blame it on the soul thing
But realistically its actually more of the immortality thing making actions not have consequences and/or or not having a body so they cant have a sense of touch or have physical effects of emotion
They all know that ghosts just tend to be way more floaty and bored and numb
And thats part of why the blooks are so special
Maddy’s rage and Mettaton’s yearning and Napstablook’s misery are like... not great all of the time...
but theyre also way way more emotion than most ghosts have,,, they are just a family supporting each other, being as functional as they can,, just an emo(tional) ghost family
most ghosts barely do anything except like stare at walls but the blooks have their snail farm and that helps them have purpose and it is good
And they hold each other accountable and it is nice
So anyway chara just chills and is in a depression coma for a few decades before the blooks find them and are like “our child/baby cousin”
and they raise them for a cool minute
They are all very protective of the new baby emo blook
And chara doesnt get therapy but at the very least they once again have a family, and they decide they want to try to become corporeal eventually just like mtt and maddy
So anyway chara starts hanging out in the ruins a lot more and they finally tell the blooks theyre leaving to go become corporeal in the ruins
This is actually because they are trying to hang out with toriel
because they miss their mom ;;
but chara’s not gonna admit that to anyone, especially not to themself
And because theyre still repressing their emotions constantly and pretending to be fine, they cant become corporeal
And they hang out in the ruins for a long time because they feel guilty lying to everyone about everything
They still feel like its their fault that all the monsters are stuck underground, because they were SUPPOSED to save everyone and they COULDNT and it HURTS
But again, they are doing too much repression to use this guilt to become corporeal,
so instead they just kinda hide and watch toriel from a distance and cry
Blooky visits them the most, thats why blooky is chilling in the ruins so much at the start of the game
Theyre just there to visit their shy baby cousin ;;
Ofc they wont tell frisk about this because chara wants space and privacy and blooky respects that
but maddy and mtt also visit them a lot
Oh also when mtt and maddy start dissapearing, blookys mental health plummets as their family and support system starts to dissolve
Blooky was actually doing extremely well (for a ghost) for a long time, i headcanon,
but theyre doing the worst theyve been in a long long time during the game, because of family issues
So anyway, chara dissapears when frisk shows up, and maddy assumes this is becaude frisk hurt their fragile feelings
Maddy spends hours desperately searching the ruins for chara and cant find them and assumes that they had their heart crushed and went to hide and disappear in a depression coma for another few decades, and thats part of why maddy is so furious with frisk
Like,, to be clear, maddy is still jumping to conclusions and throwing blame around with no proof, but also, its a logical conclusion to come to
And mettaton has already disappeared too and been gone for a while, too, by this point, so it hurts even worse
But anyway, what actually happened to chara is that;
Because chara is a human ghost, not a monster ghost, normal ghost rules dont apply to them
And they can possess living things too they find out
Maybe they knew it a long time ago, maybe its a new discovery, but for whatever reason they end up possessing frisk and theyre like “what the heck”
And frisk still has most of the control
But now chara is like,,, “this is my chance, im a human again, gotta save the world for real,,,”
and they cant explain this to anyone without revealing their past
so they just chill in frisk’s mind while being super crypic and trying to figure out how it works
Pacifist route, this is pretty much exactly what happens
They manage to help frisk save the day
And in my headcanon, the no mercy route is started by frisk who is scared when faced by monsters attacking them
And then chara, who was aready hiding in a semidepression coma for a while, immediately transitions to a panicked “gotta protect this body, gotta protect my chance to be human, i died and threw away my chance to save everyone the first time, i CANNOT lose this chance again”
And so the combination of both frisk and chara is the genocide run
Because frisk kills in self defense, and whenever frisk hesitates, chara jumps in
Also theres leftover feelings from the whole asriel incident
Because again, ghosts come from monsters who died unsatisfied
And chara’s main source of unsatisfaction is how they were trying to get asriel to kill people before he died and then he didnt
So thats a strong strong feeling ruling them
So anyway by the time they both realize how bad its become they figure its too late and also the amount of LOVE has made them numb
And thats when chara who, despite everything, still has idiot hero complex and thinks they need to save the world
So, while panicking, they step in at the very end, and erase the timeline and delete everything
And also to clarify
They DONT HAVE this power at any other point in the game
Because, guess why
They become corporeal
Just like maddy, the no mercy route is the only thing that gives them strong enough emotion to spontaneously become corporeal
So they become corporeal and as soon as they have a soul again and can reset again, they just erase everything
Ok back to fluff
Post pacifist route, they are still a non corporeal ghost
They can still float around and look just like the other blooks
And it takes them a while to open up about things, but they do end up moving back in with blooky so that blooky isnt completely alone
And also they do way better with a family
Also they can float through the mountain and talk to flowey down below and bring him news
And now that they know about him, they can bond with him and explain that they dont have a soul either but that doesnt mean theyre worthless
Oh ALSO
The other dead humans dont have ghosts
BECAUSE
ghosts only come from restless dead MONSTERS
and chara is the weird special exception
Because they were a monster when they died
They became a ghost and asriel didnt because they were way more restless and stressed than asriel was when both of them died
Like sure, asriel felt awful, but chara was the one who was way more like “this is my fault, i CANT die now, the world NEEDS me”
So anyway
charablook the emo tween ghost and asriel flowey the eldrich goat daisy are siblings once more and they hang out and eventually they are okay and have a family again
Thank you for reading, this has been my thoughts on a crack theory that accidentally went too far
This isnt even everything, maybe i’ll make a part two eventually, but i promised to have this post out like two days ago, so i wanted to post SOMTHING
Anyway leave your thoughts if youd like
Im not looking for people to disprove it, i already know its crazy, i dont think it was intentional by the game writers, but i do think its a fun concept
thats the fun of it, so if anyone wants to run with it im all for it lol
Thanks again! Have a nice day!
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Glide (Miss Venable x reader)
a/n: hello :3 here we have another song fanfiction whoohoo- uhm Glide (by Lxandra) don't expect too much haha.. its angsty i guess lol :7 oh and its really long-
summary: I am really bad at this holy shit.. I guess its about the “"relationship” between you and Miss Venable (relationship is a weird word-)
warnings: alcohol, talking about depression and suicide (but nobody's actually depressed), notes of sex 
google translate :’D
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"So, Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon finally said as he stepped around the table to stand in front of you.
"After telling me about your homosexuality, I would like to know if you are currently in love?"
You narrowed your eyes at the man in front of you.
"What kind of stupid question is that? Is this the part where we braid each other's hair and talk about our high school crushes?"
"Answer. My. Question.", the Man growled.
"Okay okay," you muttered quickly. "Uhm, well let me think about it for a minute."
--------------------
It all started when Miss Venable heard you scream one night.
You had been at Outpost 3 for a few months at this point and in all that time you hadn't spoken a lot and spent the entire time in your room except for meals.
The others didn't know much about you. They knew, you were one of the youngest residents of the Outpost and that you had left your family behind. And of course they knew your name. But that was all.
You spent a lot of time thinking about your family. Your relationship with your parents wasn't ideal, but you still missed them. And if you had known a year ago where you were today, you would have done a few things differently. Celebrating Christmas with them one last time, vacationing with them, simply spending the time peacefully with them instead of arguing.
Usually you cried quietly to yourself, with your head buried under your pillow, hoping, that everyone would forget you existed,  but crying wasn't enough tonight and after dinner you snuck into the kitchen to steal a bottle of the red wine, that you smuggled into your room afterwards.
It was now 1 a.m., the bottle was almost empty, and hours ago you had started tossing the items you had in your room. Your clothes were scattered on the floor, while you had tossed the boring books from the library against the wall. Your bed was a complete disaster and in all your anger you had torn the sheets. There were red wine stains on your pillows, which had almost slipped into the blazing fire of the fireplace after you tossed them off the bed.
And now all you could do was scream.
"Fuck you!" You shouted as you staggered in the room with the alcohol in one hand.
"Fuck you all! Fuck this apocalypse, fuck this outpost, fuck-"
"Miss Y / L / N" interrupted you a loud voice behind you and made you turn around.
Miss Venable was standing in the doorway in front of the locked door, staring at you in confusion.
"Ever heard of knocking?" You grumbled and hid the bottle behind your back.
"I knocked," Miss Venable hissed, her gaze wandering angrily over your chaos.
"And if you hadn't screamed so loud, you would probably have heard it. What the fuck do you think of making such a noise here at night? Stealing alcohol as well?"
"I uh- caught," you muttered as you put the bottle on the round table in front of you.
"Do you know what's really funny? We don't have anything to eat, but there is no end of alcohol. Whoever came up with that must be pretty stupid."
"It was my idea. I am in charge here, in case you forgot."
"Oh right," you sighed and slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand.
"Shit, well, i'm sorry, but what was your name again?"
"You forgot my name?" Asked Miss Venable sharply with raised eyebrows.
"Yeah," you muttered before collapsing onto your messy bed.
"But I know it was something weird."
Miss Venable glared at you, which of course you couldn't see because you were buried with your face in your blanket.
"Hopefully you realize this will be punished," she growled.
"Oh suck my dick", you grumbled. "You enjoy punishing others, don't you? You are a little psychopath"
You laughed softly into your blanket and noticed how you became more and more sleepy. You almost fell asleep if Miss Venable hadn't tapped her stick loudly on the floor.
"You will start cleaning up here immediately, otherwise it will be the last night you spend in this outpost."
"Oh shut up. You are totally mean to me," you moaned and pouted at the angry woman.
"Why are everyone always so mean to me? I haven't done anything wrong."
You got up on shaky legs to walk past her to the door, but you tripped and fell against Miss Venable.
"Wow," you mumbled as you stared into her brown eyes with your glassy ones and grabbed hold of her hips.
"I may not know your name, but I know,  that you are really pretty"
"What the fuck is wrong withyou ?! "
Wilhemina pushed you away from her so that you stumbled backwards and landed on the floor.
You stared out at her with hurt eyes as tears welled up in your eyes.
"I didn't do anything," you yelled at Miss Venable, who was still leaning on her stick in front of you.
"It's not my fault, that you're beautiful. Be happy, others are ugly."
"That's enough," growled Miss Venable as she took a step towards you and grabbed your arm to pull you up.
"You're going to bed now."
"I'll do nothing," you mumbled and tried to pull yourself out of her grip, but you were way too drunk to use enough strength and she could push you like a doll on the bed.
You laughed again.
"Guess what, my bed is big enough for both of us, isn't that funny?"
You looked up at her playfully, or at least you tried.
"You beautiful woman. We-"
"Your behavior is disgusting," she interrupted as she leaned over to grab your chin. Immediately you fell silent.
"And my name is Miss Venable."
She looked down at you dangerously and you saw fire in her eyes when you started laughing out loud.
"Haha Miss Venable, I told you it was something weird," you shouted before you started screaming out loud.
"Miss Venable is beautiful whohoo. Can you all hear me? Miss Venable is beautiful. She-"
"What the hell", Miss Venable cut you off again and took her hand from your jaw to put it on your mouth.
"Are you going to be quiet at last?"
"M'sorry," you hummed against her hand and Miss Venable could see from the wrinkles around your eyes, that you were grinning under her hand.
"I want you to go to sleep now and clean up the chaos here tomorrow, do you understand me?" She asked in a sharp voice. But you just glared at her and wanted to bite her hand when she repeated her question.
"Do you understand me?" She barked louder and this time you nodded quickly.
"Good," she said happily as she took her hand from your mouth and straightened up again.
"Fuck you," you mumbled quietly and watched unhappily as the woman went to the sofa across from the fireplace and sat on it.
"Can't you just go?" You moaned as she leaned her cane against the edge of the sofa.
"Oh I'll go," she replied while staring into the fire.
"When you fell asleep."
You groan in annoyance.
"Is that supposed to be a joke?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"Oh come on," you sighed and pulled your blanket over your head so she couldn't see you.
It was actually your plan to wait for her to go away, but at some point (who knows how much time had passed) you actually fell asleep.
Living my life in a bubble
Sometimes reality's too much for me
(I trip and fall into a dream)
Your love it gets me into trouble
Sometimes your gravity's too much for me
(It gets me weak in the knees)
------------
A week had passed and not much had happened. The next morning you woke up alone and with a big hangover and barely remembering what had happened the previous evening. Miss Venable had forced you to clean up the mess in your room after she had punished you for stealing the alcohol and as attractive as this woman was, she seemed genuinely angry about what had happened, even though it was actually nothing special. At least that's what you thought, but you couldn't remember either.
The world had ended and her problem was, that you had stolen a bottle of wine and ravaged your room. You wondered how fucked up her life must have been before the apocalypse, if that bothered her. And she wasn't the only one you wondered about.
The other residents of the outpost were all disgusting.
"Why do we have to eat this shit?"
"When are we getting out of here?"
"Why is life so unfair and let me be here with you idiots?"
You hate those ungrateful assholes. Everyone was dead and their only problem was, that they were still alive.
Other people deserved it so much more and the fact that mankind's only hope was in these conceited, stupid assholes seemed like a joke.
When you lay in bed that day and stared lost at the ceiling, you had lost all reference to reality. You didn't know what day it was or what month you were in. You also didn't know whether the last meal you ate was lunch or dinner, although a glance at the clock would have been enough. But you got tired of staring at the clock and watching the second hand, hoping something would happen.
Nothing changed anyway. And all you felt was that big feeling of loneliness that completely filled you. You were a very emotional person and all you wanted was someone who was normal. But everybody in this outpost was a huge disappointment. Conceited assholes, intimidated Grays and Miss Venable, who enjoyed punishing people.
Probably you would have started talking to yourself, but thank god you weren't there yet.
Sometimes you thought, it might be easier, if you opened up to others. But your body had become like a prison and you kept every thought trapped deep inside you because it did not match those of the others. Stupid assholes.
And while you continued to sink into your self-pity, you would probably have fallen asleep, if you hadn't been bothered by the sudden knock on your door.
"Fuck off," you moaned while staring angrily at the door, but the person standing in front of it only knocked one more time.
Asshole, you thought before reluctantly climbing out of bed to open your door.
"I said you should f- Oh Miss Venable," you stared at the woman in front of you.
"Are you here to punish me again for something pointless? If so, I can assure you it won't be necessary .. The wounds from last time still hurt, if you care."
Miss Venable screwed up her eyes.
"Well, Miss Y / L / N, actually I don't care, but if it still hurts, you seem to have learned your lesson," she replied coldly and you just snorted in annoyance.
"What do you want from me?"
"You are obviously depressed-" she started and you interrupted her immediately.
"What is that shit supposed to mean? I'm not depressed, I'm just sad. And since when have you been interested in how I'm doing?"
You glared at her with narrowed eyes, but her face still had the same deadly serious expression.
"You've been sad for a long time, don't you think?"
"I- uh".
You looked at her confused.
"All my friends are dead, it's only logical that I feel that way .. I find it rather questionable, that I'm the only one here, who feels that way."
"So?" Miss Venable raised an eyebrow, which made you even more insecure.
"I don't really care how you feel either. I just don't feel like wiping your blood off should you decide to kill yourself."
"Suicide isn't always bloody," you muttered.
"And because we don't have any doctors here-"
"By the way, that's the stupidest thing of all. You know, we have a hairstylist, but no doctors, you also notice that it doesn't make any sense, right?" You interrupted her and crossed your arms in front of your chest.
And again Miss Venable ignored your words and finished her sentence, which you had interrupted.
"..I thought that would help too."
Your eyes widened when you saw what she was pulling out from behind her back and immediately you started laughing.
"Are you serious? First you punish me brutally for stealing a bottle of red wine and now you come to give me one?" You laughed and stared down at the bottle she was holding out to you.
"What's worse is, that you think alcohol is replacing therapeutic treatment. That's pretty sad to be honest, Miss Venable."
Wilhemina narrowed her eyes.
"It's not sad, I just prefer red wine stains instead of stains from your blood," she growled.
"You can't possibly be serious," you mumbled and suddenly had to grin.
"You enjoyed punishing me, right? And now you're coming, because you need a reason to do it again."
"Oh come on," Miss Venable rolled her eyes.
"Take the bottle or don't take it, it's just an offer."
You were still staring at her in amazement. What was wrong with her that she thought this action would solve your problems? Another proof of how fucked up everything was and that the only person you could count on was yourself.
"Uhm, well thank you, Miss Venable," you stuttered and reached for the bottle.
"If you come over every evening and bring me a bottle, your diagnosis may work and I will have very different problems, than my sadness."
"Not funny," muttered Miss Venable, her lips pressed together.
"Well, good evening, Miss Y / N."
She turned around and started to leave and you could only stare after her in confusion. Evening?
Then you actually had dinner earlier, even though you could have sworn it was only lunch.
"Maybe you want to join me-?" You asked suddenly and were just as surprised by this question as Miss Venable, who turned to you.
"What?"
"I don't think getting drunk on my own would be fun," you added, stepping nervously from one foot to the other.
"You did it a week ago," replied Miss Venable and in the torchlight you could see the lines of confusion on her face.
"But I never said it was fun," you smiled crookedly as your grip tightened on the neck of the bottle.
"And I think it would be nicer to do that, in the presence of another person. Especially since you've already seen me drunk."
You looked at Miss Venable expectantly, although you did not know exactly what you were doing. It was probably just your desperate attempt to get someone's attention, simply because everyone, who has ever cared about you was dead. And you knew Miss Venable might not be the best choice. But while the others complained aloud about their suffering and argued about who was worse off, Miss Venable didn't show such feelings and kept her thoughts to herself. A circumstance with which you could somehow identify.
"Okay," Miss Venable finally muttered, surprising you one more time that day.
"Well, great," you said before stepping out the door frame to go back to your room. You sat on the other end of the sofa, across from where she sat a week ago. In your hand there was still the bottle of red wine and for whatever reason you were ashamed of this situation. Miss Venable brought you alcohol because she thought, you could use it to manage your sadness, or depression (as she called it). And if she had actually meant well, which was actually questionable with her, then you had to make a pretty pathetic impression on others.
"You cleaned up the mess," you heard Miss Venable's voice behind you, but it was more of a determination than an acknowledgment.
"And I just noticed that we have no glasses at all".
Your shoulders sagged at her words and for a moment you were afraid she would leave. But you heard her close the door behind her before she went to the sofa and sat down on the exact same place, that she had been sitting on a week ago.
You watched the woman confused, leaning her cane against the sofa.
Her gaze lifted to you and she stared at you as expectantly as you looked at her confused.
"What are you waiting for? Go into the kitchen and get glasses," Miss Venable uttered.
You blinked in surprise.
"I- I didn't know that was a request," you muttered before jumping up from the sofa to run from your room into the kitchen.
When you ran back to your room 5 minutes later with two wine glasses, Miss Venable was still sitting on the ugly fabric sofa just as she had done a few minutes earlier. And somehow there was something aesthetic about it.
Personally, you thought it was ridiculous, that everyone had to adapt to the Victorian style, just because she wanted to. But it was perfect for Miss Venable. As if it was made for it. Her red hair, which she always pinned up so strictly, then her almost black eyes and the lipstick. Also her pale skin and her cane. Even her strict personality perfectly matched the style of clothing.
"Do you want to stay in the door frame and stare at me, or are you finally coming now," Wilhemina hissed suddenly without moving even an inch and immediately a slight blush rose in your face.
"M'sorry," you muttered and quickly closed the door before going back to the sofa. After you sat down, you put the glasses in front of you on the table, where the wine bottle was now.
"I was just wondering," you explained as you poured the wine into your glasses.
"Why the Victorian style of all things?"
"Why not? It looks good," replied Miss Venable, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Well," you began before turning to give her her glass.
"The world is ending and you make us wear 10kg dresses, because you think it looks good?"
"Any better idea?" Miss Venable asked back, putting the glass to her lips.
"Uhm I, i don't know," you stuttered and watched Miss Venable as she drank her wine.
"Don't we have to be prepared somehow or something like that?"
You heard Miss Venable laugh quietly into her glass.
"Prepared?" She repeated with a small grin and put her glass back on the table.
"On what? For the aliens to come and get us out of here?"
You shrugged your shoulders.
"I don't know," you mumbled before you put your glass to your lips to take a sip of the bitter liquid and while you were drinking you could feel her gaze digging into your skin.
"By the way, I also find it very questionable what kind of people live in this outpost," you added, setting your Glas next to hers on the table.
Wilhemina let out a laugh. It was one of those laughs that you couldn't tell whether it was meant honestly or sarcastically.
"I'm not surprised you say that," she muttered.
"Is my dislike of the others that obvious?" you asked confused.
"I don't know if obviously this is the right word .. But what I do know, is that you always look disgusted when you see them, so I'm assuming you don't like them and to be honest, I like them neither.
Your confusion turned to laughter.
"Well," you said.
"With you it is obvious that you don't like any of them."
"These people are just as competent as they were poor. They are only here because of their money," she said disapprovingly.
You sighed thoughtfully.
"It's kind of sad, that money was the way in here. Scientists would have been so much more valuable. I'm only here because my grandfather had the money."
"What did you do before the apocalypse?" She asked you and you were surprised by this honest question.
"I went to college to study history," you replied when your gaze wandered into the fire.
"So I can  judge that the Victorian style wasn't the most practical choice."
You heard Miss Venable snort in annoyance and you couldn't help but grin.
"And what did you do before the apocalypse?" You asked, turning your gaze back to her. Miss Venable seemed as surprised by your question as you were by hers.
"It's a little tricky," she began. "Basically, I built human robots."
"Robots?"
"Robots."
For a moment you stared at her in amazement. Miss Venable had averted her gaze from you and directed it to the wine glass in front of her.
"M'sorry, but if you've built human robots, why are you letting real people, the Grays, work for us? Wouldn't robots have been revolutionary in an apocalypse?"
Unlike you, Miss Venable seemed totally unaffected by this.
You watched as the redhead reached for her wine glass and took another sip of the blood red liquid.
"You are asking too many questions for my taste, Miss Y / L / N," said Miss Venable softly, putting her glass back on the table. And even though she kept her voice low, you could hear her indirect threat.
"To be honest, I'm amazed, that I'm the only one asking questions," you replied, trying to make eye contact with the woman next to you again, but Miss Venable's gaze was tied to the blazing fire in the fireplace and you could see a dark glint in their eyes.
"You shouldn't get involved in things that are none of your business," she said suddenly in a monotonous voice. "All over the world there are survivors and it is not your job to question my system, nobody has the right to do so. You are just one stupid survivor of many, nothing more"
You and I, we just glide
Through the night
We just drive, we get by
We just glide
----------------------
"Oh c'mon," you moaned and ran your tousled hair.
"God must hate me".
You stood on shaky legs from the library floor, that you fell on after stumbling into the room. You brushed the dirt off your skirt and realized with gritted teeth, that it was ruined.
"Seems like someone is having a bad day," you suddenly heard a voice say and immediately your mood worsened.
You straighten up again to meet Miss Venable's eyes. The woman sat on the right of the two leather sofas and with one hand clutched her cane, which was propped on the floor.
"Fuck you", you hissed before you let yourself fall on the sofa across from her.
"Oh, someone is having a very bad day," added Miss Venable, and you didn't have to look at her to see, that she was amused by your behavior,
"Yes, my day sucks and guess what, it's all your fault," you growled and glared angrily at her stick.
"When I got up this morning and wanted to leave my room, I got stuck in the door with my blouse and the whole sleeve was torn. Did you also notice, how much you sweat in these clothes? It's really hard to go at the toilet with these clothes .. I'm sorry, but what the hell was your idea, when you decided to give us a Victorian dress code? Did you have to make our life after the apocalypse even harder ? "
You pressed angrily your lips together and screwed up your eyes.
"You are the only person who complains about it," said Miss Venable and sounded not quite as amused as a minute before. You let out a dry laugh.
"The others are too scared of you, to tell you that," you said bitterly.
"Besides, what the hell are you doing here?"
You tore your gaze away from her stick to look directly into her dark eyes.
"Why shouldn't I be here?"
"Because you're never here and you didn't look like someone who'd like to hang out with Mr. Gallant or Coco."
"Well, neither Mr. Gallant nor Miss St. Pierre Vanderbilt are here right now, right? And besides, I could ask you the same thing", Miss Venable replied indifferently and somehow she was right. It was also a rarity to see you in the library as you actually spent most of the time in your room.
"I suppose my great sadness is over now .. or as you called it 'depression'. I'm more in the mood right now, that I don't care and I am angry at everything and now you are my victim. Your lipstick is smeared by the way", you sighed, although that was actually a lie, her lipstick was perfect as always. But in fact her eyes widened slightly and you couldn't help but enjoy this view.
"You're lying," hissed Miss Venable and you had to grin.
"Maybe".
You shrugged your shoulders.
"Maybe you'd better go and see, or you risk the others seeing you ruined makeup."
It was obvious that Miss Venable was a perfectionist woman and she wasn't going to let her position of power be challenged over a smeared lipstick. On the other hand, you were an extremely bad liar and Miss Venable wasn't stupid.
"You're lying," she repeated, only with her lips pressed together, giving you the sense of achievement you wanted.
"Mhh Miss Venable," you hummed as your eyes found her stick again.
"This cane .. when I saw you for the first time, I wondered if it was just a symbol of power or if you really needed it-"
"..And then you saw me walk with it," added Miss Venable with a bitter tone in her voice.
"Oh no," you quickly shook your head.
"It wasn't your walk that gave me the confirmation that you really need the stick. It could never be your walk, you walk so majestically with that stupid thing, that even people, who don't really need a cane and only use it as an accessory would look handicapped next to you."
It was probably a rather desperate attempt to put the whole thing in a compliment and Miss Venable did not answer your words either, but you could see in the glow of the fire how her pale skin turned a light red shade and that was enough for you.
"It was your grip to be honest," you continued.
Miss Venable frowned.
"My grip?"
"Yes," you nodded and started playing with the fabric of your skirt.
"Your fingers are always clenched so tightly around the handle, as if you wanted it to break through. As if you were trying to strangle it or something like that, i dont know."
The furrow on Wilhemina's forehead only got a little wider with your words.
"You seem to spend a lot of time watching what my hands are doing," she mumbled and this time it was you, who blushed.
"It was just an observation, that I made on the side," you stammered quickly when you realized, that from one moment to the next the conversation had taken a completely wrong direction. Miss Venable did not answer again and you did not have the courage to look her face again and so the next few seconds were filled with an embarrassing silence, although you could imagine that Miss Venable was enjoying your discomfort.
"May I take a look at your cane-?" You finally asked to break the silence.
"You want to take a look at my cane?" Repeated Miss Venable, surprised with raised eyebrows.
"Only if it's okay," you said quickly.
"You are the first person, who asks me that".
Miss Venable looked thoughtfully down at her cane, which was still in her hand.
"As I said, the others are too scared of you-"
"The others don't care," Miss Venable interrupted, and you didn't know if she was sad about it or if she didn't care. But we're talking about Wilhemina Venable, she probably didn't care.
The red-haired woman sighed before holding out her stick to you.
You grinned and tried to grab the staff, but before your fingers could touch the wood, Miss Venable pulled it back again.
"How can I be sure, that you won't break it up and use it to make firewood?", She asked you and you looked at her in horror.
"I would probably be the last person to do that," you said indignantly.
"On the contrary, I think you would be the only person in this outpost who would dare to."
Miss Venable held out her stick to you again and this time she let you reach for it.
You immediately noticed how light the wood was in your hand as you carefully ran your fingers over the stick.
"What kind of wood is that?" You asked quietly without looking up from her walker.
"I guess it was blackthorn".
Your fingers moved on to the handle of the stick, which was probably the most interesting thing. A metal handle in the shape of a raven skull served as a support for the hand.
"Doesn't that hurt?".
You lifted your gaze back to Miss Venable, who obviously didn't understand what to do with your question.
"Well, if I had to support myself with all my weight on this skull, it would hurt," you added and Wilhemina just shrugged her shoulders.
"Uhm, it's a beautiful cane," you muttered, handing it back to her.
"May I ask why you need it?"
"I don't know what this should have gotten to do with you," replied Miss Venable, not sounding as nice as before. If you could call it "nice".
"Okay okay, taboo subject, I got it," you said quickly, desperately searching your head for anything to keep the conversation going.
"Do you actually enjoy it? To have control over everyone here? And know that, that almost everyone is afraid of you?", You finally asked and leaned back against the sofa.
"You asked me that a few weeks ago, when you were drunk," remarked Miss Venable, looking down at her gloved fingers, which were wrapped around her cane again.
"Really?" You asked confused.
"More or less. It was more of an accusation."
"An accusation?"
Miss Venable hummed in agreement.
"I told you, that you would be punished for your behavior and you said I would enjoy it."
"I understand," you mumbled, still staring hard at her face.
"What else happened that evening?"
A smug smile danced on Wilhemina's lips and she took a moment to consider your question.
"Well, you made fun of my name," she finally began as she drummed her fingers on the skull-like handle of her stick.
"And then you said, that I was pretty and that I should be happy about it, because other people are ugly."
Your eyes froze as her words entered your brain.
Wrong turn. Wrong turn.
"Uhm .. You know, when I'm drunk I tend to perceive things a lot more intensely than they actually are and then I exaggerate occasionally," you tried desperately to get yourself out of this situation, but Miss Venable just let out a loud laugh and you realized, that you had failed miserably. You cleared your throat briefly and sat up straight again.
"You haven't answered my question yet," you said, trying to change the subject again.
"I wanted to know, if you enjoy all of this."
"Do I enjoy it if you don't obey my rules? No, I don't enjoy that, why should I?" Miss Venable said and again had that indifferent sound in her voice. Of course you knew that she had bypassed your question and that was enough to prove, that she enjoyed her monarchy in Outpost 3.
"You said earlier, that you had got over your grief. That's good to hear," said Miss Venable, and this time she was the one who changed the subject.
"I thought you didn't care what I felt".
You smiled contentedly and cocked your head. Somehow you liked this game of mutual debunking.
"I don't care either, I just wanted to be polite."
Your smile widened when you saw her fingers clench a little tighter around her stick.
"Miss Venable and polite, I don't think this is a well-working combination," you teased her and in the glow of the fire you could see her roll her eyes.
"You were a lot less tiring, when you were crying in your room all day," she muttered disapprovingly.
Why should it be such a struggle
When it means so much to you and me?
(I trip and fall into a dream)
Built like a ship in a bottle
Gotta handle you so delicately
------------------
I don't know what we got
But I know what I want
The silence is killing me softly
What. The. Fuck.
When you arrived at the Outpost a few months ago, you couldn't even have imagined in your deepest dreams, that you would ever end up in this situation.
You lay on your back, still staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you tried to stabilize your breathing. Only now did you notice, that you had your arms wrapped around your chest and that your fingernails were digging painfully into the flesh of your shoulder. Your body lay rigid in her bed and you couldn't move an inch. You desperately tried to put the things that had happened in the right order.
Was it a stupid idea to go in Miss Venable's Bedroom? Yes, definitely. In retrospect, you didn't even know what exactly you wanted there. And actually you should have disappeared, after you saw that Wilhemina hadn't even been there. But no, of course your curious ass had to inspect her entire room.
And by the time Miss Venable came out of her bathroom in her pajamas, you had already started counting in your head how many punches Miss Mead was going to give you as punishment. You had definitely crossed the line.
But it turned out very differently than expected. Miss Venable had been angry anyway, very angry, but her anger was not expressed in words. The woman had pressed you against the wall and before you could do anything about it, her hand had slipped under your skirt, between your legs and Miss Venable had broken her own rule.
Of course you could have pushed her away, but it felt so right. You wanted so badly for someone to pay you attention and Miss Venable had kind of given you just that, when she pressed you against the wall and fucked you senselessly.
The whole thing was just so emotionless. You hadn't been able to look at her. You were ashamed of every sound you made, and if Miss Venable hadn't put her hand over your mouth, everyone in the Outpost would probably have heard you scream.
Which wouldn't have been so practical, because this man had come here a few days ago and you knew he was interviewing all the residents for the sanctuary and it wouldn't have been very beneficial for you if he'd caught you, breaking you down Venables rules. Regardless of the fact, that she had broken her rule herself.
Miss Venable hadn't said a single word about what had happened a few minutes ago, as if she had absolutely no need to justify herself.
She hadn't even looked at you when she took her hands off you and wiped them with a kleenex.
"You can sleep here tonight," she had muttered.
"It would be noticeable if you left my room now."
And now you lay next to her in bed and tried to understand all of this. Your dress was messy on the floor and all you had on was your underwear. After your fingers relaxed, you had pulled the blanket, that she wordlessly gave you over you and clung desperately to the fabric.
You had calmed down and could now hear her breathing next to you. The fact, that she was just lying next to you and probably sleeping was disturbing. At least, she could have apologized, right? Although, that didn't make sense either, because you obviously enjoyed what had happened.
You carefully turned your head towards her and saw, that her back was turned to you. And you wondered if she was really sleeping or just pretending. Miss Venable had become your most private contact in the outpost and you didn't really know what that actually meant.
You wanted so badly to touch her, but you didn't know if you had the right to do so. Only now did you notice the scars on her back, that shone through the light nightgown. Add to that the snake-like curve of her spine and suddenly you understood why she needed her stick.
"You have scoliosis," you said your thoughts out loud and you heard her hold her breath.
"Congratulations," she hummed miserably.
"You figured it die out."
You nervously began to chew your lower lip.
"Did I make anything wrong?" You asked quietly.
"Ask yourself how you got into this situation, then you will know."
"I- do you want me to go?", Your voice sounded sadder than you actually wanted.
When Miss Venable didn't answer, you felt tears welling up in your eyes as the feeling of fear grew inside you. You screwed it up. Probably the next evening you would end up like Stu as stew.
"No," Miss Venable suddenly whispered before turning to you. The red-haired woman had a blank expression on her face while she watched you cry.
She raised her hand as if to wipe the tears from your face, but she lowered it again and you had to do it yourself.
"M'sorry," you muttered.
"You're stupid if you apologize," Miss Venable replied bluntly.
"That was more than just unprofessional of me, I should have let you go and tomorrow you would have been punished."
You looked at her sadly.
"That's the only solution, isn't it? Punishment."
"I don't know exactly what you're getting at? It's actually quite simple. Those are my rules and whoever doesn't stick to them will be punished for it", Miss Venable looked at you unimpressed and you returned her gaze thoughtfully.
"What about Michael Langdon? Does he have to obey your rules too?" You finally asked.
"What does this mean?"
"Uhm well, I guess I've known you for 18 months now and the first time you seem scared."
Miss Venable raised her eyebrows.
"You don't know anything about me. I'm not even remotely an emotional chaos as you are."
Emotional chaos. Okay she had a point. You blinked a few times to force the tears, that were still glistening in your eyes back down.
"I don't know if emotional chaos is the right word," you muttered.
"You should think less about your stupid feelings," Miss Venable sighed, turning away from you again.
"They've only got you in trouble so far if you ask me."
You pressed your lips together and had to suppress an angry comment, that would only confirm her accusation. Your eyes stared at her back again. The red curls of her long hair had slipped behind her shoulders and were now curling on her back. You would have loved to stretch out your hand to touch it. You would have loved to curl up in her arms to feel safe for the first time in over a year. You wanted to kiss her. Or at least hold her hand. Anything. Just a little bit of their affection would have been enough and you would have been happy. It probably all sounds kind of selfish, because she fucked you a few minutes ago. The whole thing just wasn't particularly loving. You felt like a disgusting animal and now you wanted her to show you, you weren't. Miss Venable was only a few inches away from you and all you had to do was hold out your hand and you would feel her warmth. But while it was actually only a few centimeters, you realized, that there were worlds between you and this woman and that she was probably never further away from you than at this moment.
You and I, we just glide
Through the night
We just drive, we get by
We just glide
Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination
Got no destination in sight
You and I, we get by
We just glide
-------------------------
Wilhemina Venable had a great talent at pretending everything was fine.
As if nothing happened. Nothing had changed in the days after that night.
Since Michael Langdon was at the Outpost, she avoided private contact with you and the fact, that you had shared a bed didn't change that. In addition, she was just as disgusting to you in front of the others as always and that was nothing new either. And while Wilhemina no longer seemed to care about what had happened between you two, at the same time it almost killed you.
You actually expected, that she would want to talk to you about it again, but nothing had happened and that made you angry. Miss Venable would always deny it, but she was the only one who cared about you. And you appreciated her weird way of paying attention to you so much.
The only problem was, you couldn't even begin to imagine, what was going on in her head. While you were acting like a lovesick teenager, the only thing you saw of her was her deadly serious face.
Oh and Miss Venable was right, you were a fucking emotional mess. Since you woke up the next morning in her empty bed, you have cried a lot again and spent a lot of time in your room, but this time Miss Venable would probably not come to offer you alcohol as medication.
It was the afternoon of any day and you were sitting on the floor, leaning against your bed. In one hand you held a pair of scissors, while in the other you held the skirt of your dress. You were still not used to wearing long skirts after so many months and you still kept poking around at yourself, when walking through the outpost, so you decided to cut your skirts short. Of course you knew, that Wilhemina would probably kill you, if she saw you, breaking her sacred dress code, but fuck Wilhemina. At least you could finally walk properly again.
The triple knock on your door made you look up from your work and you got up to go to the door. You probably should have known it was Miss Venable who knocked. Who else has been interested in you, in the past few months?
"We need to talk," said the red-haired woman firmly, without looking at you.
You just nodded and stepped out of the door frame to make room for her.
For a brief moment you were afraid, that Miss Venable would get angry about the dress, that was lying shortened on the floor next to the scissors, but she just ignored it and stood across from you.
"Well, Miss Y / L / N, I'm just here to ugh- "
Miss Venable was interrupted by you when you, you stupid idiot, reached for her face to angrily press your lips against hers. The kiss only lasted a second in total, because Miss Venable immediately pushed you away from her and the next thing you felt was her hand lashing angrily against your right cheek. A horrified gasp escaped your lips and you looked at Wilhemina in horror as you rubbed your cheek.
"If you do that again, I'll kill you," the redhead growled, glaring at you angrily.
You looked at her hurt and felt tears start to sting in your eyes.
"M'sorry," you muttered.
"Oh of course you are," hissed Miss Venable.
"What the hell were you thinking of?"
"I just- I don't know," you stuttered desperately.
"I think I love you".
Miss Venable's eyes narrowed and she looked like she was going to punch you again.
"This is not love, this is despair, you stupid thing."
"Despair?" You breathed in horror.
"How else would you describe your behavior?" She spat and angrily started knocking her stick on the floor.
"I mean, look at you. You are a total mess. Either you cry in your room all day or you are angry at everything and everyone. You are the only person, who ruins her clothes. You are the one which most often breaks my rules, just because you are too unable to deal with your feelings. You know, everyone can handle what happened, except you, because you are so damn selfish. But you have to wake up.. Do you think, that was what I wanted, when you cried into my bed a few days ago? Oh no. And I know that, was my fault too. You know, everything what I want, is that you obey my rules, but that seems to be too much for your incompetent ass ", Wilhemina scolded and angrily knocked her stick on the floor.
"And now you come and say you love me."
She shook her head.
"As I said, this is not love, this is despair. And I don't know what kind of answer you were hoping for, from me, but let me be clear: In my opinion, of all the residents of the Outpost, you are the most pathetic and I hate you, I really do and you're sick if you even thought it would be different. "
You stared at her in shock. The feeling, that rose in you at that moment was indescribable. A mixture of disgust, shame and anger. But also the feeling of betrayal. And you couldn't say who these feelings were for, for you or for Wilhemina.
"Y-you hate me?" You stuttered, wiping the back of your hand over your cheek to remove your tears.
"I hate everyone in this outpost, that includes you too," hissed Miss Venable.
You shook your head in disbelief.
"I don't believe you," you whispered.
"I still believe, that you are scared and that is why you act like that."
"Mister Langdon will interview you tomorrow," said Miss Venable without responding to your comment.
"If you tell him anything about what happened a few days ago, I promise you will wish you were never born. With your condition, you probably won't be in the sanctuary anyway, but I will don't let me spoil this opportunity from you. Do you understand me? "
You shook your head.
"I don't understand what your problem is suddenly ... I asked you that evening if I should go and you said no."
"The whole thing was a mistake, nothing more", Miss Venable growled quietly and stepped past you to go to your door.
"I hate you and you hate me, that's all that's between us, you understand?"
You wanted to say something, but you decided not to, it didn't make any sense anyway.
"I understand," you said softly.
"Good," replied Miss Venable before turning and walking out of your room.
You stared after her sadly. Of course you didn't understand why she was suddenly so mad at you, but how could you? Miss Venable had wanted to end whatever was between you, so that she would not feel guilty if you were to be murdered by her in a few days. She had never meant to offend you, but she had to make it clear to herself, that she didn't love you. She just couldn't love you.
Show me freedom
'Cause love don't cost a thing
Give me freedom
Yeah don't just let me leave
--------------------
"Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon barked and slapped the table with the palm of his hand. You winced and looked disturbed into the blond man's eyes.
"I asked you something".
He leaned down to you and his face was only a few inches from yours.
"Are you in love?"
You swallowed and blinked a few times, before you whispered softly:
"I am not."
The man leaned back and looked at you thoughtfully for a few seconds.
"Well, Miss Y / L / N," he finally sighed.
"You can go."
Without looking at the man again, you got up to run out of the room. You tripped and if you hadn't held onto the wall next to the door, you would have fallen. For a moment you leaned against the wall with your eyes closed and took a deep breath.
This man was disgusting and a little too intimate for your taste, no wonder, that no one liked him.
You opened your eyes again and realized, that Miss Venable was staring down at you as she leaned against the railing.
Your eyes were lost in hers, her almost black eyes in which the light of the torches is always reflected. You wanted to say something, but you were afraid, that she would leave and you didn't want that. Miss Venable had put on her indifferent expression as always and, as always, you did not know what was going on inside the woman.
Your lips formed a mute "fuck you" when you saw her turn away from you to move. And the faint tapping of her cane proved to you, that she was indeed leaving and you knew that she would not come back.
Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination
Got no destination in sight
You and I, we get by
We just glide
102 notes · View notes
staarshiine · 3 years
Text
Turbulence
words: 1,773 tw: s*icdial thoughts
Louie knew that he shouldn’t be feeling this way, that it was a dangerous and terrible thought to have, but he just couldn’t muster up the energy to care anymore.
He hadn’t cared about anything for a long time.
-
or, Louie can’t sleep. He ends up spiraling.
Ao3
Louie didn’t know what it was that woke him up.
These nights even the slightest creek from the old house could startle him awake. It was embarrassing, really, to sometimes fall out of bed just because a poster fell off a wall, especially after he had a day of avoiding bears with chainsaws for arms. Maybe being such a light sleeper was the price he had to pay for a childhood of near death experiences. A shitty trade off, if you asked him.
In the end it didn’t really matter what woke him up, the result was the same.
Louie was left laying alone in the dark, tired out of his mind, but unable to sleep.
For some awful reason, his brain had decided to choose now to be uncomfortably aware of every inch of his body, almost as if sensing his desperate attempts to fall back asleep.
His gut was churning and twisting in a way he knew would evolve into a full blown stomachache the second he decided to get up, and there was a slight pang in the left side of his rib cage. His wrist and knuckles still hurt from when he had smacked the back of his hand against a stone wall while running away from the catastrophe of the day, and there was a similar stinging pain in his knee from when he scrapped it tripping and falling on the ground to narrowly avoid the swipe of an axe. His legs and the bottoms of his feet were aching from the cardio workout he got while running for his fucking life earlier that day.
He was just so tired.
The weariness went much further than just bone deep. It was as if exhaustion was laced into every breath, like someone had made thread out of lead and had sewn it into the very fabric of his soul.
He was tired of not being able to sleep through the night. He was tired of his body hurting all the time. He was tired of being forced to fight just to live every day.
He was tired of his life. He was tired of living.
The realization dawned upon him quietly but all at once, like the tide slowly inching in until he’s suddenly been submerged by the waves he didn't notice creeping in.
Louie knew that he shouldn’t be feeling this way, that it was a dangerous and terrible thought to have, but he just couldn’t muster up the energy to care anymore.
He hadn’t cared about anything for a long time.
When had the constant danger become normal? Why had he gotten used to being kidnapped on a daily basis, as if it wasn’t horrifying enough to get locked and tied up? How had having to run just for the chance to breath for another day become a regular occurrence?
Louie had been running on pure fear for so long, he wasn’t sure how to get through the day without adrenaline pulsing through his veins.
Maybe he was tired of fighting. He barely even knew what he was fighting for.
It wasn’t as if Uncle Scrooge allowed him to keep any of the treasures they found on adventures. The golden luster of a future life filled with riches had begun to lose its shine. Was some pretty coin worth all the trouble it was taking to get there?
He didn’t have many big dreams outside of just getting rich, it was almost sad. It was sad. But it wasn’t as if he was going to get far in life anyways. Louie was a greedy, lazy, selfish bastard and he knew that fact uncomfortably well. No matter what Louie did he could never seem to escape who he really was. Someone always ended up getting hurt.
Did he have anyone to be there for?
He didn’t have many friends, either. Not that he ever really tried to make any, not after the disaster that was Doofus Drake. Lena, Boyd, Violet, and Gosalyn were all nice, but they weren’t really his friends. They were all closer to his siblings. He wasn’t anyone’s first choice.
There was always his family.
His family who probably hated him.
Louie couldn’t even count the number of times he had put them into mortal danger for stupid reasons. No shiny ring or necklace was worth their lives, but he was always blinded by the shine and his own selfish greed, and risked it anyways. What reason had he given to deserve their love? He brought nothing good to the table. All he did was sit around all day and get in the way.
His family didn’t seem to have the same problems with the constant adventures that he did. Day after day they just popped back into action, bravely facing whatever life threw their way. Louie felt so ashamed in comparison. Was the problem just him? What was wrong with him?
Why couldn’t he do anything right?
Schemes were supposed to be his thing, the one skill he had that had the capacity to be helpful, to some degree. He fucked that up too.
He had blinked all of them out of existence because of his stupid fucking schemes, and his mom hated him for it. Of course she did. Who wouldn’t? He certainly did.
God.
He just wanted to go back to bed.
Louie didn’t know how much time he had spent, falling deeper and deeper into his own head, but he felt worse than ever before.
His blanket had long stopped being comforting and instead became suffocating. He could barely muster the energy to rip it off, and the sudden cold made him feel sick to his stomach.
Living in a literal tower seemed cool, but the novelty wore off once they realized Scrooge was too cheap to pay for the heating in the room.
Still, the cold was better than the clammy constricting blanket. He curled up tight into a fetal position, and tried to bite back the tears burning in his eyes.
Louie knew he wasn’t in the right mind, that his brain was playing tricks on him and skewing his perception of reality, but god did it feel real.
In that moment he truly believed nobody cared for him. That he was totally and utterly alone.
Then Dewey let out a loud snore above him.
It was such a stupid and small thing, but he couldn’t help but let out a snort. Which then exploded into full blown laughter.
Louie just couldn’t stop. He knew he was definitely going to wake someone up, but he just couldn’t control himself. He doubled over wheezing and cackling till his stomach and cheeks hurt, and each gasping breath began to turn into sobs.
Between the sound of his own manic laughter he could hear the sheets above him shuffling, and the quiet thunks of Huey climbing down the ladder.
Knowing his brothers were awake to witness his hot mess of a breakdown just made the situation even more hilarious in the same way a depressed clown falling on his ass was. Louie’s face was bright red from how hard he was laughing, and hot tears were streaming down his cheeks. He could barely breathe. Nothing about the situation felt real.
“...Louie?”
Dewey’s sleepy voice cut through Louie’s gasping breaths, and startled him out of his crazed giggling. Somehow both his brothers had manifested at the edge of his bed without him noticing. Louie could barely make out his brothers’ concerned expressions through his watery eyes.
Huey’s eyebrows were furrowed so hard Louie was surprised he hadn’t gotten wrinkles yet, and Dewey was rubbing his eye and clutching a pillow to his chest. He looked almost scared. Louie had to look really insane for Dewey of all people to be scared, Dewey wasn’t scared of anything. It was honestly concerning sometimes how often he would throw himself head first into danger.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Huey fretted, and moved to sit near him on the bed.
Like he had to ask. Louie knew he looked like a garbage fire that was hit by a freight train then tossed into a blender and hurled into the fucking sea.
You tell me, do I look okay, Hubert?
He knew he was being a little mean, but it was enough to throw Louie back into hysterical laughter, which quickly dissolved into violent sobs. Huey let out a distraught noise and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Louie just let himself be held and cry into his older brother’s sleep shirt. He felt like a baby, but he couldn’t be bothered to care anymore. The bed dipped and creaked slightly as Dewey sat down on the other side, and began to rub circles into his back. That just made Louie cry even harder.
They really did care about him.
The thought suddenly flooded him with pure relief.
Louie didn’t know how long he spent sitting there and sobbing his eyes out, but eventually he ran out of tears to spill. His heaving cries sputtered off into quiet gasps and eventually he was left quietly clutching to Huey’s side. The night still felt unreal, like the second Louie let go Huey and Dewey would vanish and he would be all alone again.
“...No,” Louie weakly whispered out, his voice scratchy and raw from the abuse Louie had just put his throat through. “I’m not okay. I… I think I haven't been for a really long time.”
No one said anything. Dewey just leaned into his other side and gave Louie’s hand a slight squeeze. Huey shifted slightly to reach up and gently wipe away Louie’s tears. He rested his palm against Louie’s cheek and guided his head to rest on Huey’s shoulder. They were such small acts of affection, but it was enough to warm Louie’s heart. It was right there, sitting sandwiched between both his brother’s, did Louie finally feel a sliver of hope.
He was loved.
It didn’t matter what he thought of himself, there would always be two people in his little corner of the world who cared about him.
Louie was still tired. He wasn’t sure anything could lift that heavy feeling out of his chest, but just sitting there and being held made it just the slightest bit lighter.
Maybe he could make it through another day.
Maybe tomorrow morning he could work up the courage to talk to his siblings and explain just exactly how he was feeling. But for now, all Louie was concerned about was letting his heavy eyelids slip shut.
And finally, he fell asleep.
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Text
Just Coping
Reiner Braun x femme!crush!Reader
word count: 2406
summary: y/n’s mirror breaks while Reiner hears her crying, and Reiner is on damage control. emotional support ensues. angst and fluff.
a/n: I relapsed a week or so back, so this is my therapy writing. I was abused by my biodad as a child and this contains some irl examples of my feelings and experiences. Given that it’s pretty personal for me and lots of tears and vulnerability went into this, please keep feedback positive, respectful and constructive.
tw: mentions of abuse, assumed self-harm, depression, self-hatred, self-isolation
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I can hear y/n sobbing again. Is that all she does now? Being a soldier is supposed to make you tough. Granted, I’m not any better. I knock lightly on the door. She must’ve covered her mouth, because her cries sound a little muffled, though the volume is still there for the most part. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quieter.” She calls. Suddenly I hear glass shatter and a shriek.
I quickly push the door open, and find y/n in her bathroom, standing with her legs against the tub, trying not to step in the broken glass. Her mirror somehow fell off its’ hinges despite being newly installed. I’ll have to report the renovation error. “Are you okay?” I ask, trying to be polite even though the direction of the question could provide two very different answers.
She looks down and whimpers, “I’m sorry.” Since I’m wearing boots, I trudge over through the mess, the crunch of the glass almost sounding like that of snow. “It’s alright. Let me carry you out of the room?” She nods in understanding, and I sweep y/n up bridal style, placing her on the carpet. I grab the standard broom and dustpan behind every door and start sweeping. “So, mind telling me what those other noises were about?” I ask, and hear her footsteps and the creaking of the door closing, the handle clicking into place.
“You would think it’s stupid.” Y/n says. I can tell she’s trying not to start crying again.
“I think you think I would think that, but I still would like to hear it.” I push. “You’ve been crying every day at this point. You’ve been missing from our group for so long that Porco stopped being an asshole to me. It worries me.”
She sniffs. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Well, I care about you, so I’m going to worry anyway. It’s kind of my job,” I state, “As your friend, and as your superior. I need you around, no matter which role I’m playing.” I deposit the swept up shards into the waste bin, put the tools away and cross my arms, leaning against the door frame in wait.
“I-“ She starts, then pauses, taking a deep breath. She looks up at the ceiling, exhaling slowly. A fruitless endeavor, really - sorrow is a wild river, flowing of its’ own accord, without regard for fragility of mind - she squeezes her eyes shut as if to dam the water, keep it from overflowing. “I’m not trying to cry, I’m sorry-“
“Don’t apologize.”
“Sorry, I just- I mean- um.” She fidgets, rubbing the inside of her wrist awkwardly. I notice faint scratches. My stomach flips, and I reach out to grab her hand before she can hide it.
“What is this?” I ask, already knowing the answer. I feel my throat tightening, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. “Why would you do this to yourself? Do you have any idea how many people care about you? Do you have any sense of self-preservation? I- what?”
She’s murmuring something quietly, the tears she tried to trap spilling down her face like rain on a windowpane. She speaks up, just a whisper louder than she was before. “P-p-please l-let go of me.” I realize I’m squeezing her hand and let go, snatching my arms back and stuffing them in my pockets. Why am I so angry? That’s not the kind of person I’m supposed to be. Who am I supposed to be?
Y/n gasps, the sadness too much for tears alone. She starts shaking. “I’m sorry, I just- when I look in the mirror every day, I- I hate myself. I l-ook like him, inside and out, and, and I see-“ She swallows as if she’s trying not to drown and got water in her mouth. “I see what he did to me. I didn’t-“ She looks down. “I didn’t do that to myself, I-“ Another gasp, like she’s struggling to breathe. “It was done to me. When I was in trouble. So were the other marks. Not that I ever got to know what I did wrong.”
So stupid of me. Why did I just assume? Is it just because of my own ideas? God, this is why everybody thinks I’m selfish. “Other marks? He? Who is he? Is he still around?” I ask.
She sits on her bed, tucking her legs beneath her and hugging her knees, making herself visibly small. A whisper: “My dad.” The two words sting like white-hot iron. The gears are spinning in my head - how to find him, how to make him feel the pain his actions caused and then some for good measure. She must notice, because she says, “Please don’t do anything. It’ll just come back around to me.” The fog in my mind clears when I see her scooting away from me, physically distancing herself from my anger. I sigh, calming my violent thoughts.
I climb onto the bed, crawl toward y/n, and wrap her up in the biggest hug I can manage. Partially to comfort her, partially so she doesn’t see my face while hers is buried in my chest. “I am so sorry,” I say. “For what happened to you, about your mirror, and for getting angry. That’s not helpful to you right now.” I can feel her sobbing quietly into my shirt, the tears making it wet. “None of this is your fault.”
Her voice is muffled, but I can make out: “How can I possibly be good? How can I love myself? How can I not hate everything I see when all I see in that stupid, broken mirror is him, and everything he did to me? Why did he do it? What did I do wrong?”
I sigh, holding in the tears belonging to my own eyes. “Because you’re not him. Even if you look like him, that doesn’t mean you did what he did. You’re so kind, y/n, you’re too kind to even let anybody worry about you. You have so many friends and comrades who respect you, respect your integrity, your thoughtfulness, your contributions to not just the mission but to the entire world. Even if you don’t get a fancy plaque or title for it, you stay late, you do extra, you take the time to do your homework when you have an idea, and people look to you for leadership. You make the unit a family, not just an army. You’re more of a warrior than I am, y/n. You fight, every day, to overcome something so huge, and somehow you still have enough left in you to fight a couple other battles for our people, and for humankind. And you do it for all the right reasons. I envy you. I may be a warrior, but you’re a commander, a ruler, an Emperor, yet for some reason, all you want to do is help other people.” I pause, taking a breath. “He did what he did because he, a small minded, selfish excuse for a man, saw something in you that he knows he will never have for himself. That thing is your heart, your spirit, your character. It attracts all kinds of people to you, and he wanted to break your spirit, because he knew he would always be lonely and miserable. You are a good person, with a good heart, and there is nothing you did that places any blame on your shoulders. You were a child, and he was an adult who made choices of his own accord, and he will suffer the consequences of those choices by never feeling your warmth, never feeling your love.”
She looks up at me, shakily raising one of her hands to touch my cheek. Her fingers feel like the sun, dancing on my skin. She really is light, heating everything she touches. I want to close my eyes, lean into her touch, but her e/c eyes bore into mine, sharing this moment with me in its’ fullness. “Thank you.” Y/n says. “I-I don’t know if I can believe everything you said yet, but I want to try. And thank you for being a good friend.” She looks away and lowers her hand, doubt filling her features with lines. I immediately wish it was back where she had it, but I know this isn’t about me right now. She needs a friend. “I just wish I didn’t have to look like him. After he’s done such ugly things-“ A quick glance at her wrist- “I can’t help but feel...” She trails off, burrowing deeper into my embrace.
On cue, I hold her tighter. “Well. I don’t know how much help it is for me to say it, but when I look at you, all I see is you. You truly are beautiful, and no matter the marks he left on you, his efforts will never hide that beauty. I see a person who can gentle any horse, can make any jerk nice-“
She laughs, “Don’t talk about Porco like that!”
“-And you make the people around you better people. You don’t need a Titan form to be powerful. You already are.” I smile. I’m pretty sure Porco likes her, otherwise he wouldn’t mind his manners and his attitude around her. Something stirs in me - what is that? Jealousy? Or just the usual hatred? Whatever. Doesn’t matter right now. “I just wish you could see you through my eyes. You’d realize why everyone cares so much. So, stop keeping your problems to yourself, we’re called your friends for a reason.” I order.
Her face gets a little red. “Oh. Right. I just... didn’t want to bother anyone.”
“Bother everyone. You owe yourself that much.” I say, getting up after giving her one more squeeze. “Will you be coming to dinner later? No one’s seen you in public for a week.”
She looks at her feet. “I probably should, just so everyone thinks I’m okay.”
“You don’t have to be okay, you know,” I respond, “Just alive, so we can be of help. If you do come, I promise I’ll be nice to Porco. Also, Pieck has been asking about you.”
She smiles. “I do miss Pieck. And Porco. And I missed you, too, Reiner.” Something flutters inside my chest at hearing my name on her on her lips. “But, um. I’m just curious.” She says.
“Hm?” I prompt, giving her my full attention.
“How did you know what to say?” She asks.
I shrug. “I didn’t really know, I just... went with what I would want someone to say to me. I... I can kind of relate. In a way.” I turn the doorknob, but before the door opens, I hear her climb off her bed, rising to her feet. I wait.
“Reiner, I-“ Silence. Her feet pad across the floor, and I feel her arms wrap around me. I let go of the knob and turn to hug her back. “I really appreciate you,” She says quietly. “I’ll come to dinner, if that’s what you want.”
I say, “It’s what everyone wants, but yes, I admittedly, specifically, am hoping you will feel okay enough to show up. Plus, I don’t think staying alone in your room is super healthy.”
“It’s not so lonely when you come to visit.” She says to the buttons of my shirt.
“Perhaps I’ll visit more often, then.” I smile. “Just to check in, of course.” She nods her head and releases me, even though I wish she could’ve held me for just an eternity longer. She really does have healing hugs. I smile one last time, then make my exit, closing the door quietly behind me.
I sigh, the usual tension I feel missing from my shoulders. Even if I didn’t say much, opening up even a tiny bit about my feelings felt... nice. Maybe I���ll start visiting y/n instead of sitting alone in my sadness. She has a way of making me feel better, even when she isn’t trying. And she said she appreciates me! That makes one person, at least. I don’t let the smile I feel ghosting my lips stay for long, but it lingers a few seconds while I head down the hallway to the main corridor.
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the-rad-pineapple · 3 years
Text
substance abuse
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Supernatural fanfiction: Set in season 8, Sam and Dean get into a big fight, so Dean turns to alcohol to solve his problems.
Words: first 2k words are here, the rest of the 13k word story can be found on
ao3
fanfiction
wattpad
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A/N: I had a crazy depressive episode in January this year, and the only thing that brought me serotonin was Destiel. So the result was me not leaving my room for three days and writing the majority of this story on the notes app on my phone. I have some ideas on how to finish this, but I haven't had inspiration to continue since March. Maybe I'll finish it someday, but I hope you enjoy what's there. Thanks for reading!
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Dean was finally in a good mood. The bar near their motel was surprisingly decent. It had good music, but it also helped that Dean had one too many drinks. So that meant everything was just a little funnier. He was well past the stage of being buzzed and dangerously tipsy. He and Sam had gotten into a little fight earlier, so he was solving it the only way he knew. Alcohol. He took another couple shots against his better judgment. Hey, the more alcohol he was drinking, the better his mood was getting, so why not?
He just finished setting his last shot glass down when someone sat down beside him. It was a guy around Dean's age with dark stubble and bleached blond hair beginning to darken at the roots. He had colorful tattoos swirling up his arms. They were pretty. The man turned to look at Dean, and the way he had to brush his hair from his eyes made Dean feel...something. He smiled playfully at Dean, and Dean felt his heart flutter.
You know what? Fuck it. He was having a good time, and this guy was hot. It had been a while since Dean had been with anyone, let alone another guy... Dean shoved that thought away and winked at the man sitting next to him.
The man raised a playful eyebrow as he took a sip of his drink, his eyes wandered down Dean's body. Dean felt his cheeks heat up, but he had enough alcohol in his system for the shyness to pass quickly in place of confidence.
"I'm Marco," the guy—Marco—introduced.
"I'm Dean."
"What are you doing here, Dean?" The way he drew out Dean's name made Dean shiver.
Dean shrugged casually. "Nothing much." He looked pointedly at Marco. "Looking for something fun to do."
Marco smirked. "Like what?"
Dean slowly looked down Marco's body. He was wearing a printed button-up shirt, with too many buttons undone, so Dean got a decent peek at his chest hair. He wanted to see more. Dean trailed his eyes back up to Marco's. "I'm looking at it."
Marco grinned. "Wanna drive back to my place for a bit?"
Oh fuck, was this really happening? He didn't picture his next time being with a stranger. With a guy, yes, but a guy with blue eyes and a trench coat.
"Yeah," Dean heard himself answer before he realized he had spoken. It was all happening so fast, and he could tell his grip on time wasn't exactly right. Maybe he was a bit drunk. But, did it matter? He was having fun and felt better than he had in a long time.
"I'll pay for your drink and we can go." Marco winked before grabbing the bar tender's attention and paying.
They were soon walking out the door. Dean didn't remember standing up, but they were suddenly halfway across the room. Dean also felt himself starting to stumble and grabbed onto Marco's arm without a second thought. Marco put his hand over Dean's as they stepped outside.
The cold air managed to make everything just a bit more clear. Dean's surroundings sharpened a little. Everything outside his direct line of sight wasn't just a haze now. It was just slightly out of focus instead. They stopped at an old truck. Dean tried to place the make and model, but the information was barely out of reach. It was fuzzy, and retrieving anything other than immediate thoughts felt like sifting through mud. But who cared anyway? He was about to get laid by some hot guy.
"Nice truck," Dean complemented. He did like it even if it was a bit plain.
"Oh, yeah?" Marco replied.
And before Dean really knew what was happening, his back was against the truck, Marco's hands on his hips. Hot breath hit his face before Marco's mouth was on his. Dean closed his eyes and let himself get carried away. The kiss was all tongue and desire. Dean grabbed Marco's hair, and he imagined he was kissing someone else. Someone with dark hair instead of blond.
Dean's head was spinning as someone's tongue was shoved down his throat and hands were underneath his shirt, touching every inch of his torso. He already had too much to drink, and now he was kissing some stranger outside. Or was it a stranger? He had envisioned kissing Cas, but that couldn't be right. Shit, shit, shit. Those last two shots were catching up. But now there was a leg between his thighs rubbing on him in all the right ways that took priority over everything else he was feeling.
"Dean."
It was Cas. And it was close. But it did not come from whoever he was kissing. He felt cold as he and—Dean glanced at who he was making out with, but the name escaped him—some guy broke away from each other. Dean looked in the direction of Cas' voice. The angel stood uncomfortably a few feet away. He glanced between Dean and whoever the other guy was. Dean was suddenly warmer as his embarrassment finally set in. He wished Cas hadn't caught him like this. With someone else when the only person Dean had been thinking about lately was Cas.
"I need your help," Cas said gruffly.
"Right now?" Dean asked, suddenly very aware that this guy's leg was still in between his, and his hands were under Dean's shirt.
"Yes, Dean," Cas answered, the annoyance in his voice was strong. "I wouldn't bother you otherwise."
Dean cleared his throat. Obviously. "Right." He glanced at the guy. "Sorry," he said sheepishly and pushed him away.
They disentangled themselves, and Dean made his way to Cas, trying to avoid eye contact from everyone. It wasn't too hard to stay embarrassed when Dean had to concentrate on walking in a straight line.
"What's up?" Dean asked Cas once he managed to find his footing. He ignored the sound of the truck's door closing, and its ignition. He was still disappointed even if it had been completely spontaneous.
"It's Sam."
Shit. Was Sam hurt somehow while Dean was out getting drunk? That was completely his fault. Dammit. "What's wrong? Is he ok?"
"Yes, he's fine," Cas said. "He just wanted me to tell you he left the motel."
Dean crossed his arms. Was that it? Seriously?
Cas went on, "He said you weren't answering your phone and asked me to see if you were ok. I called him when I found you."
"So, you're Sam's mediator now?"
"We were worried, Dean. You weren't answering Sam's calls." Cas' eyes bore into Dean's. There was a lot more anger in them than there should've been. Did something else happen? Did Dean do something? "I'm glad to see you're fine." Cas turned and took a couple steps away.
"Wait!" It was louder than Dean meant. He just had to get Cas' attention before it was too late, and time was moving fast while he was like this, so he wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed since Cas spoke.
Dean wanted to tell Cas that he and Sam had had a fight. And that was the reason why Dean had been so irresponsible. So stupid. So inconsiderate. But they were all excuses in the end, and trying to make thoughts into words seemed impossible at the moment.
Cas turned back. "Yes, Dean?" Cas tilted his head. Fuck. That was cute. "Cute?"
"Huh?"
"You said, 'that was cute'."
Oh my god, Dean had said that out loud. "Uh, yeah, I don't know." Dean laughed nervously.
He couldn't let Cas know he had...feelings...or whatever for him. That was something he buried deep down, but it was all threatening to come out. Shit. What was happening? Everything was still spinning, and things kept happening that took Dean too long to register.
"Are you okay?" Cas asked. The anger was gone, now replaced with concern.
"I'm fine," Dean quickly answered.
Cas' eyes narrowed in suspicion. That was also cute. Everything Cas did was kinda cute anyway, if Dean was being honest with himself.
"Walk over to me," Cas commanded.
Weird request, but ok. Dean frowned but walked in Cas' direction anyway. But walking was hard. Placing one foot in a steady position shouldn't be this much work. It felt more like tumbling from one step to the next, but Dean eventually made it to Cas. But he had struggled. A lot. Maybe Cas didn't notice.
"I noticed, Dean," Cas said.
Oh. He heard that, too. How much was Dean saying aloud? "I'm a little drunk," Dean admitted. Maybe this would absolve his behavior tonight, and they can go on like it never happened.
"You're more than a little drunk," Cas replied harshly.
"Are you mad?" The question was out of Dean's mouth before it was fully formed in his head.
Cas sighed heavily, but didn't look at Dean. "No, Dean, I'm not mad."
"Yeah! You are!" Oh, Dean totally had this. One of Cas' tells was avoiding eye contact. "You don't look at me when you're upset."
Cas looked at Dean wearily. "Let's go."
Cas started walking away. Quickly. Cas was somehow already by the sidewalk. Dean tried to catch up, but one moment he was following Cas, and the next he was on the ground. He didn't even remember falling. All he knew was he was now laying on the street looking up at the night sky.
"Dean!" Cas rushed to his side. Dean reached his arms up for Cas to help him up. Cas grabbed him.
"Sorry," Dean said and laughed. That probably looked funny.
"Are you hurt?" Cas frowned in worry.
Dean didn't feel anything, but he couldn't really tell. All he could focus on was Cas holding his arms. Cas was strong. "Oh, baby, don't worry. I feel great!" Dean said and grinned in reassurance. Wait... did he call Cas "baby"?
"Let's get back to the motel."
And then they were suddenly there. Dean laughed again and said, "I forgot you can fly."
Cas really was incredible. He was such a beautiful, strong angel. But also so cute at the same time. Dean saw his bed and tried to step towards it, but almost fell again. Cas' arm was around his waist. It felt really nice. Dean put both his arms around Cas. He was warm and smelled like rain. He was like a strong fortress. He was home. Dean wanted to stay like this forever.
"What are you doing?" Cas asked but didn't take his arm off Dean.
"Hugging you."
"You need to sleep."
"No!" Dean didn't want the hug to end, so he held on tighter. "You're warm." It was true. Cas was like the perfect bed. Soft and warm.
"I can hug you while you try to sleep."
Wait, really? "For real?" Dean made the mistake of looking at Cas while he still hugged him. They were close. Super, super close. Dean loved those blue eyes. "You're pretty." He didn't mean to say it. He thought it, then his mouth moved, and then he realized what happened.
Cas just moved him to one of the beds without saying anything. Dean tumbled onto it and stared at the ceiling. It looked like every other motel ceiling. He was sick of motels. Something tugged on his foot. He couldn't be bothered to look what it was. Cas was there after all, so everything was fine.
"Something is pulling me," Dean said.
"I'm taking your shoes off," Cas explained.
It was a simple gesture, but one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for Dean. Or one of the best that Dean could think of right now. Who else would do this? Cas always went out of his way for Dean.
"I love you," Dean said.
Cas finally pulled Dean's shoe off then started tugging on the other one.
"I love you, too." It was soft and so...genuine. Was this actually happening? And did Cas mean it? Or was he saying it to please the drunk?
But it didn't matter. Dean was in a good mood. He'd believe it for now. Everything else was tomorrow's problem—if he could even remember any of this. If any of this was real. His second shoe was taken off, and Dean held his arms up again for Cas. He felt the bed next to him dip before Cas put an arm around Dean. Dean held onto it like a lifeline.
"Goodnight, Cas."
"Goodnight, Dean."
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dripkingpetey · 3 years
Note
Hiiii!! Can you write something about y/n having depression spell and either barzal or Brock tries to cheer them up?
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1.3k words
You had been feeling pretty down for the last couple of weeks, you weren’t sure what was causing it but it got worse whenever Brock would leave for road trips, there was no motivation for you to do anything. Brock is also starting to notice it and he wants to do something about it because he doesn’t like to see you suffer. 
It was a casual thursday morning, today you actually got up and took the dogs for a walk before Brock came back from his road trip, when you got home to finally take a minute to sit down you started crying. It felt like you were letting everything out, all of emotions you had been bottling up for the past month, you needed Brock to be there with you right now. But he couldn’t be there for you, just like every other week when he had to leave for hockey. The little voice inside of you always told you its was selfish for you to want this, selfish for you to want Brock all to yourself and never have to leave him, selfish for you to shut yourself down and not talk to anyone, selfish for you to take a moment for yourself, selfish for you to do anything. You slowly wiped your tears and picked up Brocks sweater that was next to you on the couch, you put it on and the familiar scent of Brocks body wash combined with his cologne calmed you down. You quickly tried to calm yourself down when you saw Brocks contact name and photo lighting up your phone on the coffee table, you picked up and pretended like everything was okay, like you always do when Brock’s around, that same little voice in your head would always tell you, “You can’t let Brock see you like this, he wouldn’t love you anymore if he did.” obviously you knew it wasn’t true but a little part of you believed it.
“Hey babe,” Brocks familiar and raspy voice rang through the phone as you smiled. “Hey, how are you?”
“I’m good, just getting into Vancouver right now. I’ll probably be home in twenty minutes.”
“Okay, I can’t wait to see you.” You lied, obviously you were excited to see Brock again but you didn’t want him to see you like this. You and Brock exchanged goodbyes before you headed upstairs to take a quick shower. Quickly slipping on a pair of shorts and the same hoodie before Brock arrived, you heard Milo and Coolie barking which meant Brock was home, you took a quick sigh and made sure Brock couldn’t tell you were crying before going downstairs to greet him. “Hey,” You mumbled into Brocks chest as he pulled you in for a hug. “I missed you lots.” You smiled up at him as he quickly pecked your lips. “Missed you too bubs.” 
The rest of the day was very chill, cuddling with Brock and the dogs, Brock telling you what stupid things him and the boys got up to on the road, and being lazy together. Brock asked you what you did while he was gone but for some reason you just couldn’t answer him because you truly don’t remember what you did other than crying and being lazy. “I just hung out with the dogs, went over to Bo and Holly’s.” Another lie, you couldn’t help but lie to Brock, not because you wanted to but you were scared he wasn’t going to love you anymore.
-
Brock was starting to notice it, how you weren’t as cheerful as you used to be, you weren’t talking as much, you weren't going out to hang out with friends as much. But Brock didn’t know what to do so he started talking to his mom about it. 
“Mom, I really don’t know what to do.” Brock paced around the deck at five in the morning, while it was seven in the morning in Minnesota. “I can tell somethings wrong but she won’t tell me. Does she not love me anymore? Am I the problem.” Brock teared up over to phone to his mother. “Sweetie. Listen to me.” Laurie tried to calm Brock down. “I’m sure she still loves you, just talk to her about everything okay?” “Okay,” He mumbled, knowing that was the only thing he could do. “Now please go get some sleep Brock, I’ll talk to you later okay?” Brock listened to her and went to bed.
Brock didn’t want to do this but he had to. “Are you okay y/n?” He asked, you were on your computer doing something for work and looked up at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You faked a smile at him as he sat down next to you on the bed. “I hate to be the type of person to do this but please, tell me how you’re truly feeling. I can tell there’s something wrong y/n.” You sighed at his words and moved closer to him. “You’re right. I’m not okay, and I haven’t been for awhile.” You took a quick pause before deciding on what to say next. “If you’re going to ask why I haven’t been okay, I truly couldn’t tell you. I’ve been trying to hide it the best I can but I just can’t, I constantly feel like I’m doing something wrong.” 
“You aren’t doing anything wrong though.” Brock cut you off and noticed that you were starting to tear up. “I don’t know, I just feel like I am.” You sighed, burying your head into his chest as you cried. Brock didn’t know what to do, he rubbed your back softly and just let you cry. 
“I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong babe, you’re perfect. Maybe you don’t feel like you are sometimes but you are. I love you, and I don’t feel like I tell you that enough but I really do. If I could only be with one person for the rest of my life it would be you, I don’t think you realize how happy you make me. And I realize that sounds a bit selfish but it’s true. And I want to give you the same amount of happiness as well, but if we don’t talk about what’s going on I don’t think it’ll ever get better.” Brock poured everything out, you took a moment to process what he said and you lifted your head up from his chest to give him a kiss. Brock was tearing up too, he’s never felt love like this with anyone but you and he knew you were the one for him. No matter what happens he only wants you. “I love you.” Was all you managed to say to him but that’s all Brock needed, he knew that you listened to everything he said. “I promise I’ll tell you when I’m feeling down.” You smiled at Brock as he pecked your lips. “And I’ll listen to you, even when I’m gone. Just give me a call.”
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witchiswriting · 3 years
Text
‘Tis the Damn Season Chapter 1
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Summary: Pre-Apocalypse.  Adrielle left her town and Negan behind three years ago but when she comes back along with her feelings she found the man she couldn’t get over is moved on. Dealing with depression at the same time, could Adrielle find what she’s looking for?
Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Depressed Main Character, Mental Illnes
Author’s Note: This is a story I came up with when I listened to Taylor’s Tis the Damn Season song. I don’t know how but the song painted a really clear picture for this story. So, I hope you enjoy this as much as I do. Also it’s my participation to @band--psycho​‘s Music Writing Challenge.
Pairings: Negan x Adrielle (OC)
Enjoying feeling of the melting snowflake on tip of your nose, you watched the town you could never leave behind. No matter how long it has been, this place has been with you all the time. Thinking about the Christmas dinners your mother served every year even though you were absent in all of them for the past 3 years. During those years you thought you were healed, or you made yourself believe it. The difference doesn’t matter, you’re here because of him. Because you can’t deny your feelings anymore. You miss the man you hurt the most.
After all the things that took place and all the disasters you left behind your departure, you couldn't control your feelings and fears anymore. So, you left LA for the holiday season and came back to spend Christmas with your family, and if you are lucky enough, with him.
In the past 3 years you thought if he moved on and found someone else who is worthy of his love. The possibility left a bitter taste in your mouth. You know you are being selfish but imagining him with some other woman makes your heart ache. So, you’d done what you do best, drowning yourself in meaningless relationship and casual sex yet it wasn’t enough to stop that nasty voice in your head, none of them were him.
Shutting down your cruel mind, you quickly pushed the thoughts away. You were standing in front of the door of your home, your parents’ home to be correct. You put on the best smile on your face and knocked the wooden surface.
In a rush the door opened, and you found your mom, Jane, in front of you, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. The years added a few wrinkles around her eyes, but her emerald green orbs shined with the same tenderness. Her hair was longer, and it suited her sharp features just right.
'Oh, thank goodness, you're finally here' Jane took you between her welcoming arms, surrounding you with that welcoming feeling you’d never forgotten, holding you tightly. 'Adrielle Pamela Wintringham! If you dare not coming back and visit us every year, you'll find me on your door with my bags. This is a serious threat miss!' She laughed into your raven hair.
Before being able to answer your mom, you heard a pair of very familiar footsteps. Your father, the only man you trust with your own life, is now standing right before you.
'Jane, leave the poor girl alone. If you keep saying shit like that, she will probably change her identity and start a new life who knows goddamn where.'  He joked, showing his pearly whites.
Leaving your mom, you took a big step and hugged your dad.  The break which lasted for 3 years made you miss your family more than you could ever imagine. 'Well, dad don't worry. I'll be coming back every year from now on. I missed you so much, guys.' You didn't even try to hold your tears back.
William laughed smoothly. 'C'mon Elle, let's get inside before we all get our asses frozen as shit.'
 Stepping into the house, you immediately went back to 3 years back. Nothing has changed. The beige couch you used to spend your days on is still located at the same place, the warm colour of the walls never failed to make you feel at ease, the shelves are still stuffed with your and your sister’s pictures. Though a new one caught your eye, she was standing with her volleyball team, holding the medal she probably won and next to him was the person you wanted to see most and avoid at the same time.
He had that charming smile on his lips, of course he has changed over the years, the salt and pepper beard took its place around his mouth. You remembered the feel of his stubble on your skin. ‘Fucking great’ you thought, years did him good. He was more handsome than you remembered, and you used to think it wasn’t possible.
Clearing her throat, Jane interrupted your thoughts with a soft tone. You knew she saw you staring at that picture but didn’t say anything and honestly you were grateful for that. Yes, you came back mostly because of him but it didn’t mean you were ready to face him even though through a picture in the first moments of your arrival.
'Baby, go change. The dinner will be ready in 10 and hopefully your wayward sister will be back by then.'
Making a fake offended face 'Where the hell is Andrea? I mean the Santa is back in town but she's out.' you joked slightly.
You knew you hit a sore spot when you parents shared a worried glance, they were still thinking about your mental struggles probably, but you wanted to prove that you’d beaten down the illness that chasing you since your childhood.
'Honey, she's out helping to the others with the giant Christmas tree which they put in the centre of the city.' William explained like it was nothing, but you knew your father too well to catch the tension in his baritone voice.
Not wanting to address the elephant in the room so you shook your head replying with a cheerful tone, 'Apparently nothing has changed. God I really missed this town.' The words slipped out from your mouth, but you weren't sure your parents bought it.
It's an old tradition that kept going on in your town for years and you have no doubt about Negan being there, helping everybody with a joy. He always loved this kind of stuff, you silently hoped this hasn't changed, and unfortunately Andrea is one of his best students.
Jane called from the dining room, letting you know that dinner is ready. Feeling thankful for distraction, you pulled a chair, took your usual spot in front of her.
Just as you were about to take a big bite from the delicious chicken, your troublemaker sister stepped in and made her presence known. She was looking at you with a Cheshire cat grin on her face.
'YAY! The older one is back. I have so many things to tell you Adri, oh, by the way we're still having the dinner tomorrow night, right? There are 5 days to Christmas, and it would be a shame if we skip that famous tradition.' She let the words out from her lips with overjoy. Andrea has always been a social butterfly and on the contrary of kids her age she enjoyed hanging with adults.  
'Is there a special reason for mom to not throw the party this year?  Or is it my presence that bugs you little lady?' You said with a sassy tone before you could think about the sore subject you spotted on. As soon as you realised what you just said you kicked yourself internally.
'Don't worry babe, I already planned everything and told everyone. We're going to be so busy tomorrow night.' Thankfully, your mom ran to the rescue again and replied with nonchalance.
Beyond excited Andrea blundered without realization, ‘Oh great! That means Coach Negan is coming too.’’
For a moment everyone around the table didn't mutter a word and you heard your sister whispering 'oh shit' looking at her feet.
The awkward silence was starting to annoy you, so you sighed and decided to clear the air, at least with your family. 'Guys, I really appreciate your concern, but it's been years, we both are adults and what happened back then is water under the bridge. You can't prevent us from encountering each other. I'm pretty sure Negan wouldn’t have a problem with this too. I'm sure he's already moved on and living his life peacefully. I doubt he would turn his back and run as soon as he sees me. Also, I’m here to fix my past mistakes. I can’t do that if I avoid talking to him, right?’ You arched your left eyebrow, a faux smile on your lips, the tension you feel in your stomach could make you burst into tears and then make you laugh hysterically afterwards. You were trying your best to suppress this feeling.
Your mom examined your face with a suspicious look but didn’t pressure the matter further and raised her glass in a toast.
Quickly the heaviness in the air disappeared and left its place to cosy atmosphere.
You could feel your insides hurt from laughing too much at your sister’s adventures in the school.
The happy banter interrupted with the ringing doorbell. Andrea started getting up from her seat. ‘It’s probably Nancy, she forgot her folder in my room this morning.’
Before she could move forward you stood up. ‘If it’s okay with you I would like to answer the door. I missed her too since she practically grew up in our house.’
With a genuine smile you walked toward the door. Ready for greeting Nancy and chat with her after a couple of years. You loved her like your sister. Both of them always managed to cheer you up.
You met with a pair of hazel eyes instead of Nancy’s blue ones. Negan was standing before you just shocked as you were, staring at you with wide eyes.
You were speechless. You didn’t expect to face him this early, you’re caught off guard.
His lips curled upwards with a genuine smile. Trying to be polite and casual as possible he finally said something. ‘Oh, hi. I didn’t know you’re back.’
Shaking off the whirling emotions that made you dumbfounded. ‘Hi, uh yes I’m back for Christmas.’’ You said, managed to keep trembling off your voice.
You continue to stare at each other. There was so much you want to tell him, and you weren’t sure if you could stop yourself from your arms around his neck.
‘Elle, baby invite Nancy in. You’re going to freeze to death if you keep standing on the porch.’ Your father intervened before you made something stupid.
Your dad couldn’t hide the slight shock but shrugged it off quickly. ‘Hello Negan. Troublemaker daughter of mine forgot something again?’ He asked with a smirk on his lips.
Negan laughed, you wished you could keep the butterflies in your stomach cool. ‘Fuck, not this time William. Actually, I’m here to give you these cookies.’
Deciding to form a friendly banter with him and yourself you popped the question. ‘Wow, did Coach Negan learn how to cook finally?’ You teased slightly.
He bit his lower lip before answering your simple question. ‘I wish I could fucking say yes but no, Eleanor baked them.’
Yeah, he indeed moved on.
@negans-network​
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xomarauders · 4 years
Note
Hi love! Love your work :) May I please have the marauders+ friends playing truth or dare and someone asks Sirius a very uncomfortable question which he refuses to answer and the rest of them put pressure on him to answer but Remus defends him? Thank you!!
sort of drifted from the prompt, but only slightly! hope you enjoy! 
(apologizing in advance for any sort of mistakes) 
tw: implied/referenced child abuse, panic attack
* * * * 
Sirius had the distinct feeling that the only reason all his friends were sitting in a circle in the middle of the Gryffindor common room at one in the morning playing silly muggle party games was for his sake. Some plan James had come up with in a desperate attempt to cheer him up. It wasn’t working. The only reason Sirius himself was even still sitting there rather than going off to sulk in the dorm was because he did not want to have to explain himself or his depressive mood to the whole group. James, Peter and Remus of course knew the reason behind Sirius’ glum mood, but they had kept it properly under wraps at his request. Sirius definitely didn’t want everyone to know what had happened this summer, how his parents had thrown him out onto the streets, barely breathing. He didn’t want to see the pity in their eyes or for them to look at him as weak or pathetic or anything of the sort. He didn’t want them to know how torn up he really was about it.
That last little admittance he had kept to himself, even keeping it from his fellow marauders. He felt almost ashamed to be so upset over losing a family that was so cruel to him all his life. He should be happy, shouldn’t he? That he was finally free of them? So why did it hurt so much?
“Let’s play truth or dare.” Marlene piped up, pulling Sirius out his own mind and back to earth. No one in the circle seemed to his notice his momentary lapse in attention and for that he was grateful.
“Truth or dare?” James asked, bewildered but excited.
“It’s really fun.” Lily said, smiling at him more fondly than she ever had in the past, “You’ll love it.”
The game seemed simple enough and most everyone in the group knew how to play with the exceptions of James, Frank and Sirius himself, the three of them having grown up in the magical world exclusively, and—at least in Sirius’ case—never interacting with muggles. Peter volunteered to go first, eager to impress Mary, who blushed profusely when Peter chose to answer a truth of who the prettiest girl in the room was.
“Mary!” He said, a bit too loudly and he flushed with embarrassment. Mary wasn’t fussed at all, though, and offered him a grin.
“Thank you, that’s very kind.”
Peter then chose James to pick between truth or dare, and, unsurprisingly he chose dare.
“I dare you to eat a whole box of Bertie Botts every flavor bean all at once!”
It was a pretty tame dare, but James took it very seriously. After Peter returned from the dorm with a package in his hand, James opened it immediately and with a wink at Lily, dumped the whole of its contents into his mouth. The reaction was almost instantaneous. James screwed up his face in displeasure and hastened to chew as quickly as he could. The group laughed and even Sirius found himself smirking slightly at the absurd gestures James was making.
“Ugh!” He exclaimed after swallowing. “That was awful! Vomit and candy floss do not go together!”
The next few rounds consisted of Dorcas (who had snuck out of Ravenclaw tower along with Emmeline Vance to join the group) being dared to sing the school song backwards, Alice admitting that it was actually her that had hexed Rosier last week in charms class that James had gotten detention for, Frank turning his hair purple for the rest of the evening and Emmeline confessing to kissing Fabian Prewett behind the Quidditch stands after hours.
“Sirius,” Emmeline said, as soon as the group had regained their composure after learning about her nightly affairs, “truth or dare?”
If he was being honest, Sirius did not like either of those options. For one, he didn’t really feel like doing anything “daring” or even silly like he probably would have in the past. His heart just wasn’t in it. But taking a truth instead could also be risky depending on the question.
“Uh, truth, I guess.”
There were a few surprised looks thrown at him from some in the group who had assumed he’d be like James and jump on the idea of performing a dare, but they didn’t say anything. Emmeline, with a slight look of disappointment on her face, thought for a moment before finally speaking again.
“What is the worst sort of hex or spell you’ve been on the receiving end of?”
Sirius went pale. He knew the answer, of course he did. It sent shivers and aches up his spine just thinking about it, but he couldn’t just say it. He couldn’t tell them that the cruciatus curse was the worst possible thing he had ever experienced in his entire life and that he received it from non-other than his dear old mum. But nothing else was coming to mind. All he could hear in his mind was his mother screeching “crucio, crucio, crucio!”
“Uh,”
“C’mon,” said Emmeline a bit impatiently. “You must’ve had something nasty thrown at you what with all the Slytherins you’ve dueled with.”
“Emme,” Lily said reproachfully, seeming to notice the clammy expression on Sirius’ face.
He wanted to run, to hide, to fucking disappear. His heart was racing faster and faster with each passing second. They’re going to know, he thought. They’re going to know that something happened, that something is fucking wrong with you. Why can’t you just forget about it? Why can’t you just make something up? Shout another fucking curse you stupid—
“Sirius has never been on the receiving end of a hex now has he?”
A voice from right beside Sirius spoke up. Remus, who had been quiet most the night aside from a few snickers and playful comments, was staring directly at Emmeline, an impassive look on his face. She seemed taken aback a moment and turned a bright shade of red.
“Oh,” She said weakly and with a hint of disbelief, “well then, I’ll ask something else.”
“Actually, I think it’s getting a bit late. We should probably turn in for the night.” Remus said and there was murmur of agreement coming from the group. There was tension in the air and Sirius still felt as though he were about to collapse in on himself, but when Remus helped him to his feet he hastily obliged and practically ran up to the dormitory without saying goodnight to anyone.
As soon as the door had shut behind Remus, James and Peter, Sirius broke down. He was gasping for air and the tears that had started to sting behind his eyes now fell freely. His knees hit the floor with a hard thud as he wept. How could they have hurt him this much, damaged him this much to the point where he couldn’t even have a good time with his friends without being reminded of their cruelty.
Arms, strong and familiar, wrapped themselves around Sirius’ torso and he clung onto them tightly as he was pulled back into Remus’ chest. Remus, his savior for the umpteenth time, who was there to hold him the same way he had the night after Sirius ran away to James’ house.
“It’s okay, Pads.” Remus murmured. “Just let it out. We’ll be here.”
“Yeah.” Said James, coming to wrap his own arms around Sirius, quickly followed by Peter. “We’ve got you, Padfoot.”
And his three friends held him till he soundly fell asleep. 
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mydearesthrry · 3 years
Text
places we won’t walk (chapter one) || peter parker
summary - the doors at midtown seem a little boring, but when you get introduced to someone you seem to remember, what happens when they seem to remember you too?
word count - 2.9k (wow shes gettin better!)
pairings - peter parker x fem!reader
warnings - like mild mention of s*xual assault, angst if you squint really hard, mj being a softy for you, mj being a lowkey bi, peter being stupid as always, y/n calling peter a colonizer.... thats it ok enjoy
a/n: so i know i last updated in october, but as u all saw i have a 25 days of xnas thing going on (PLS I WROTE THE A/N LIKE A MONTH AGO PLUS I FORGOT ABOUT THE XMAS THING DISREGARD) so pwww updates will be slow (as if they werent already omg) but the next chapter will be arriving hopefully, fingers crossed, on xmas eve or xmas! also, are you guys watching the new euphoria episode? also, i’ve stopped using the word ‘stuttering��, as it may be ableist, and i’d never wanna come off as insensitive. anyway lmao, enjoy chapter one, the trials and tribulations of hitting someone in the nuts.
also side note psa: biggest thank you to @blossomparkers for helping me so much w this chapter. i owe it all tooooo u lani yani. thank u for everything !!!!!
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when y/n y/m/n stark was in her early years, she was never aware of the impact her father would and did hold over her life, and in turn, the whole world. for the longest time, you’d always assumed that your father wasn’t real, and everything that had been told to you by malicious family members who were jealous over your father’s “successes” had been lies, and you had it believed yourself. no one would even think that you were tony stark’s daughter until it had been mentioned. tony’s snarky attitude had been a character trait that you’d gotten, and you always took pride in your humor and attitude.
the story of your mother and tony had been messy and all over the place. from a drunken hook-up followed by multiple days of morning sickness, to a surprise pregnancy test, the storyline of your parents had been.. well.. interesting to say the least. you never focused on your family’s history, solely based on the fact that you didn’t have two fucks to give about your family history, but you also never knew your father which was-- bizarre. 
when tony had found out about you, he claimed it was a drunken accident, a mistake, and one he made when he was “less responsibly a stark”, which was actually just some fucking bullshit, but he didn’t wanna admit that he hooked up with some random chick at a bar that he thought was hot.
since you had been raised by a mother who was barely there, you had to raise yourself. you were kinda street smart and book smart, and you were always smart when it came to books, because you were the type to want to learn-- unlike others.
when you were in your teen years, you had tabs on you and the media on you 24/7 to make sure you didn’t royally fuck up. the unwanted attention became too much when you started realizing that people didn’t want you for your personality, they wanted you for your title. but this was after you moved from brooklyn. nuvale and peter never saw you as some “movie star”, or some famous person in the media because you weren’t. but when you had grown to learn what your father did, he had forced you to not fuck up to maintain his-- somewhat okay reputation. 
you always wanted that superstar life, as a fantasy of course, but when you got to it, you realized the cliche-y-ness of it all. you’d idolized the famous women in the media-- idolized how they looked like. you realized fairly quick how fucked up the media truly is. you realized how things really aren’t as they seem. its not just the galas that look extravagant, or getting to wear a fancy new gucci outfit every night. it honestly was a whole bunch of other shit you wouldn’t even imagine. it comes with the no privacy thing- people stalking you in public, the death threats, so much shit that wouldn’t happen as common if you were just anonymous.
being an avenger (basically), your dad had natasha teach you the ropes; the basic rules of how to kick someones ass. it was a handbook that the women of the avengers had created, and it had all the rules and regulations of how to spar someone on the team, and basically how to righteously beat someone's ass up. it was never really something you found too important, but as you grew older, you realized that it was very important to know, especially since you were a girl.
despite your harsh remarks and snarky attitude, your father always knew how to hit a sensitive point in you that always managed to break you down. you never quite understood why he would want to make you feel worse about yourself than you already felt, but regardless, you always felt underappreciated by him. being a stark, you were expected to be a genius, get over the top grades, and constantly be able to keep up, but with your luck, you were graced with depression, social anxiety, and a 4.0 gpa. fun, right? 
wrong.
when you were 11, you had made friends with the kids in your apartment halls, and you learned that their names were nuvale jones and peter parker, and you were basically the golden trio. you were hermione, peter was ron, and nuvale was harry. which, now that you look back at it, makes much more sense than any other arrangement. you also had another friend, harry osborn, but once he moved away, there was no way for you to talk to him anymore. he had moved across the country to california, and from then, it was just you, peter, and nuvale. your best friends ha been there for you for what seemed like decades, although you only knew them for about three.
peter was the boy with the rosy cheeks who little 12 year old you would get butterflies in her tummy. or the type of boy to bring you an extra snack if you weren’t able to pack it the night before. he was the type of boy to walk you to the nurses office if you got hit with a dodgeball. he was the type of boy to fall for someone like you. but he didn’t. or so you thought. 
little prebubescent y/n was an awkward girl who thought the world would be on her side when she needed it the most, or that whenever you needed peter or nuva, they would be there. you didn’t think your best friend would stop talking to you after you had moved away. you were too naive to know that peter liked you, and you were too naive to know that he had liked you back, but you wanted to believe what your brain would tell you, so you decided to flush your feelings down the drain and forget about them, which, in hindsight, was a pretty shitty idea. who would’ve known?
your alarm clock blared loudly from beside you, causing you to let out a loud groan in protest. you hit the side of your head angrily, then whining and rubbing the spot which you hit. whines and loud sighs fell from your lips as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and pulled the covers over your head, knowing what would come next after you would try to snooze your alarm.
“good morning, miss stark, how could i be of service to you this morning?” friday’s voice echoed through your large bedroom. you peaked your eyes and forehead from beneath the covers, your eyes slowly starting to adjust to the light that was pulled through the big blinds which were now open. 
“mmm, fri, just tell happy to get the car ready, ill be ready in a few min- nevermind, tell him to get ready in thirty, im probably gonna fall asleep in the shower.” you croaked, taking your phone from the charger which was on your nightstand. you slipped on your bunny slippers and turned on the heater in your room, the draft filling your room with cold air throughout the night.
-------
once you walked through the large industrial doors of midtown’s cafeteria, everyones voices started to drop into sharp hushed whispers, making you roll your eyes and pull your hood up over your face. you pulled your airpods from your pockets into your ears and tried your best to avoid any and all eye contact with anyone you did end up coming into contact with. you walked over to the food bar where you grabbed a red school tray and plastered on your best smile to the lunch ladies who work oh so hard to make sure you all were fed. as you walked through the line, you could feel the intensified stares on you, making your back erupt in chills. you didn’t like to be watched, and the fact that you were a so-called celebrity didn’t help your cause in any way. 
“hey.” a low voice called from behind you. it was a girl with curly hair with gorgeous light brown skin, and a jawline that would cut you. you were almost astonished by her beauty, but you remembered the facade you had to hold, especially to strangers that you didn’t know.
“hey?” you asked unsurely, wondering if she was with the media or not. which was something that tended to happen quite a bit.
“don’t worry, i’m not with the press. you just seem interesting.” she said in a monotone voice, but still with a strong look of seriousness on her face. you giggled softly when your eyes locked and your faces went totally still, making the girl in front of you laugh as well. she held out her hand in front of you, while also balancing her tray and book in the other hand. you placed yours into hers and shook it, smiling when she told you her name.
“michelle jones.” she smiled, your throat getting a little tight at her last name, and you had to admit that it struck a little chord within you, but you quickly cleared it from your thoughts and introduced yourself as well.
“y/n stark. pleasure to meet you, jones.”
“pleasure to meet you too.”
“so, i get that you’re new here,” she started walking, inviting you to walk along with her. “what- what are you doing here? i mean i get you’re smart and all, but this is a nerd school; you literally could’ve gone anywhere, so, might i ask, why here?”
“hm, interesting question. seriously i don’t know. my dad and i don’t really get along so he makes the decisions and i tell him if i like it or not. which by the way, i’m gonna have to stay near you-- you’re the only one making this bearable for me right now.” you snorted, nudging your elbow to hers. 
“hm, daddy issues. great song, love the artists.” she smirked, making you shoot your head back in loud laughter, gaining some side eyed glances from a few people sitting at the tables around you.
“so, where are we sitting? i usually nev-”
“hey mj!” you were interrupted by a boyish laugh and hoots and hollers coming from a table two tables ahead of you. 
“jesus fucking christ. what? just because i got some and you didn’t doesn’t mean that you have to be that fuckin’ loud about it.” she grumbled, placing her tray down, slinging the backpack on her right shoulder beside her. you looked at her with a nervous but curious glint in your eyes. she gave you a knowing look which said, ‘just go with what i say’, making you nod in understanding.
“woah! holy shit! i m- i mean woah- nice to- nice to meet you!” the boy fumbled over his words, looking at you and michelle in disbelief, shaking his friends shoulder and poking at his cheek.
“nice cut, g. looks nice.” you said to him, giggling as you stuck your straw into the mini juice box.
“o-oh, thanks… g?” he said back to you, observing your looks with a confused expression written on his face making you giggle at his confusion. 
“peter! look! y/n stark is at our table!” he whisper shouted to his friend, making you look at michelle with a smile on your face and playfully rolling your eyes. she looked back at you, rolling her eyes as well, gesturing to her head as if saying ‘idiots’, making you giggle and turn back to them. 
“so, bowl cut dude, what’s your name?” you nodded to him, picking at your salad with the blac spork that was so cordially given to you by mj. 
“n-ned, ned leeds.” he smiled sheepishly.
“and you, colonizer, what’s your name?” you tapped on the table, alerting the boys attention. you could hear michelle and ned hollering and snickering from their seats, but decided to keep your poker face rolling. but i mean, how couldn’t you? the look on his face was absolutely priceless. 
“peter park- wait did you just call me a colonizer?” he cut himself off in his own sentence, looking at his other friends for confirmation, to which they nodded, still cackling at the fact that you had indeed call him a colonizer.
“peter park, hm?” you teased, ignoring the way you hesitated and ignoring the way your chest felt heavy when the name of peter was said.
“n-no thats not my name-” he said, tripping over his words, making you let out a chuckle. 
“i’m messing with you. with what you’ve given me, i could only guess your name is peter parker?” you rested your chin on your hand, engaging in the awkward conversation.
“yeah. thats my name.” he said more confidently, giving you a tight lipped smile.
“nice to meet you, parker.”
“you too, stark, my pleasure.”
----
after the small encounter with your new found friends, you had gone back to your respective classes, which meant that your next class had peter in it. after you had split up, you decided to get there early to avoid any commotion surrounding you.
as the boring class continued, you heard the loud clicking of high heels in the hallways, which had to be one person and one person only.
“stark,” someone shouted from the door which swung open. low and behold, in front of you was the prickly bitch, your principal, mrs cunningham. “come with me, eugene’s parents have requested a meeting with you and your father considering that you had just hit their son in the private areas!” everyone snickered and laughed. finally someone had stood up to flash’s shit. 
“y- you punched flash in the nuts? i thought that was just a rumor?” peter stuttered, looking at you in disbelief.
“yeah, the fuck was i gonna do? let him flirt with me? no. that bitch tried to grab my ass. i’m a stark, i was raised better than that.” you whispered to him, packing your bag as you did so.
“hm, guess you’re right. well, good luck stark.” 
“thanks parker.”
--------
once you arrived in the principals office, you saw what seemed to be his mother in one of the seats decked out in expensive pearls and diamonds. typical.
“little miss over here punched my son in the privates! i will not allow this to happen!” fuck. you thought; another one of those stuck up cunty parents.
“pfft, probably paid to get their son into here.” you muttered under your breath, playing with your protection bracelets incase anything was to ever happen.
“wHAT? mrs cunningham, i will not allow this child to talk about my son this wa-”
“hello! i was called in?” a voice interrupted, one you could only peg as your father.
“ahh! mr stark! you’re finally here!” your hilarious excuse as a principal said cheerfully.
“i am! and i am here to.. come and have a meeting about my daughter's- behavior?” he asked questiongly, already seeing the triumphant and cocky look on your face. he knew you weren’t at fault, and you were gonna lie your pretty ass out of it.
“well, mr stark, we have a student in the nurses room due to the actions of your daughter!” she looked at him menacingly. he shook his head with a smile on his face and walked over to you, grasping your shoulders in his hands.
“well kiddo, wanna explain what and why you did what you did?” he smiled, giving you two taps on your shoulder, already knowing what was next. you two had a pretty good acting schedule when it came to it, when in reality, you despised eachother.
“sure daddy! eugene had been hitting on me for several days now, and even found my private social medias in use to.. how can i say this, use me for my fame? he tried talking to me, very inappropriately on several occasions, and even went as far as to try and grab me in areas in which i find extremely inappropriate, without my consent, might i add, which doesn’t seem okay with me. does it seem exceptional to you, mrs thompson?” you asked, while only keeping your eyes on his mother.
“why, i am so sorry miss stark! his father will be in contact, i did not raise my baby to be this way! im sorry for any inconvenience he may have caused you!” she gasped, raising a hand to her heart. 
“it’s okay, i just request, may this never happen again? i would not like my privacy to be invaded, much less from your son, and can i please ask that he never try to hit on me, nor any girls at this school ever again? i can only imagine how many other girls this may have happened to, mrs thompson.” you sighed, your eyes filling up with fake tears. you reached up to touch your fathers hand, tapping it twice back, knowing that you both had just won.
“never again miss stark, once again, i am so sorry this happened to you.” 
“it’s okay. now mrs cunningham, shall we see our way out?” your father answered for you, looking over at the old white woman who looked like a piece of cheese. she could only nod in awe, giving you the cue to pick up your bags and walk proudly to the door.
“thanks i guess.” you muttered, pulling out your airpods once more, hoping to seal the conversation with your father.
“yeah yeah, no problemo.” he muttered back, avoiding eye contact and stuffing his hands in his  pockets. 
once you reached the door, you remembered that you had left something in your locker, and informed your dad that you’d be going back to get it. he all but nodded and looked back at his shoes before trudging to the car.
once you entered the seemingly halls, much to your surprise, you saw a scrawny teenage boy lifting open a set of lockers, which you didn’t even know was possible, and pulling out a red and blue suit. once you saw who the hands belonged to, your mouth fell agape as you gasped,
“peter?”
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Sunny And Newt
So i’ve decided to start writing a Newt X Reader series because shut up.Let me know if you’d like to be added to the series taglist. :)
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Warnings:This series will talk about eating disorders, depression and sex.
The day was quite bland.It was a bit warmer than usual but nothing unbearable.Everybody was still a bit tired seeing as though it was very early in the day and no one had eaten breakfast yet.
At the time everyone was getting dressed in their normal attire of stained shirts and worn down shoes.The cooks were busy in the kitchen,hurrying to put food on plates and put them on tables.
The menu was the same as every other day,bacon and eggs.Newt pulled on his tank top and hoodie tiredly,walking slowly down the hall of the homestead and down the hall.He was always the first to the kitchen,after the runners of course.
The runners always left before anyone even got to breakfast.He opened the kitchen door,dragging his feet as he took a plate and sat at a table.Time always went by slowly so he wasn’t quite sure when you walked in.
It could have been anywhere between two minutes and twenty minutes.You opened the door as quietly as possible,closing it behind you as you hoped your presence would go unnoticed.You succeeded,Frypan and Gabe not even noticing you had walked in.
Youwalked slowly,carefully placing each foot in front of her before approaching one of the plates of food.Newt watched you,confused from the back of the kitchen.
You took a single piece of bacon,slipping it into the pocket of you hoodie.You looked back over to make sure the cooks didn’t see as you took one more piece of bacon from a separate plate before picking up the original plate.Your hands were covered by your long green sleeves as you tiptoed to a table in the far left corner.
You slowly placed the plate on the table,trying as hard as you could not to make a sound.You then picked up the chair,moving it before carefully putting it down.You then sat in the chair,taking the bacon from your pocket and putting them on your plate.
You let out a small,quiet huff.Newt was still looking at you.You had just stolen bacon and gone unnoticed,that was a job that deserved a medal.Your tired eyes glanced over at his corner before locking on him.
Your eyes went wide for a second.You placed a finger over your lips.He squinted,shaking his head.You rolled your eyes,looking over at the cooks one more time before picking up a piece of bacon and tiptoeing over to his table.
You held the bacon out to him,trying to bribe him into silence.He took it with a small nod,trying not to grin.You then carefully went back to your seat,eating your bacon.By now boys were filling the kitchen,sitting down and taking their plates.
It went as it normally did,Chuck sitting with you while the others chose seats randomly.Alby sat with Newt,The Builders sat together at one table while the medjacks sat with Newt and Alby.
They were all talking but Newt wasn’t listening,still focusing on his interaction with you.He had only talked to you twice at most since you had arrived three weeks before.
He didn’t know much about you,no one did except for Chuck.No one even knew you real name,Chuck just started calling you Sunny one day and it stuck.He had given you that name because of your ‘vibe’ which made Newt wonder if you ever remembered your real name.
you had come up in the box very differently than everyone else,wearing clothes that were probably five times too large for you and socks with rainbows on them.He watched from across the kitchen as you flipped your eggs onto Chucks plate,saying something to him in the process.
you then got up,walking out of the kitchen.No one else noticed,no one watched you leave except for him and Chuck.How was it that you were the only girl and the boys didn’t look at you all the time?Now that he thought about it,you were quite pretty.
Your eyes had a twinkle to them and the way you’d bite your lip and scrunch your nose when you were confused was something he always found adorable.You really were something special. 
“I think I’m going to go start my work early,see you guys later.”Newt said quietly,picking up his plate and placing it in the sink.He headed out the door,seeing you make your way to the med hut.
Now he didn’t know what to do.How was he supposed to talk to a girl he’d barely ever spoken too?you turned around,looking over at him.He stiffened,not knowing what to do.you turned back around,continuing to walk until you disappeared into the med hut.He remembered the day three weeks ago when you was found in the box,asleep.
Gally had been the one to carry your unconscious body to the med hut,accidentally dropping you onto a bed.you hadnt waken up for three days.But when you did wake up with Newt and Alby in the room you had just sat up,scratched the back of your head and declared that you really had too pee.
Once you had used the bathroom,Chuck gave you the tour and it was decided that you should sleep in the homestead and not in a sleeping bag or a hammock like the others.It was kind of weird but you ended up sleeping on a bundle of blankets inside of Minho’s closet.
Minho said that you could sleep in the bed with him but you were fine in the closet.Newt sighed as he started to pull out the weeds he had missed the day prior.One was particularly difficult,when he tried to pull it he ended up scratching the entire side of his arm on a rock.
He got the weed out,cursing as he looked at his arm.He had seen plenty of boys get scratches and bruises on purpose,just to be able to have you take care of them.He groaned as he stood up,dropping his small shovel.
He made his way over tot he med shack.He didnt want you to think he was one of those boys that got hurt on purpose.He walked in,seeing you laying on your back on one of the beds as you stared at the ceiling.
Your arms were behind your head.He stood to admire you for a few minutes,you looked so calm.Your head turned to look at him,raising an eyebrow. “DUde,how did you get hurt already?”you laughed quietly.He smiled and shrugged,holding out his arm.you sighed,sitting up.
 “Get on the bed.”you spoke quietly as you stood up,getting some bandages and peroxcide as well as a small towel.He sat down on the bed,looking at the floor.you moved the stool over so you sat in front of him. “How the hell did you do that?”you smiled.He laughed quietly,looking away from you.
 “You see,there was this rock.And it decided to bloody attack me.”He said softly.you poured some of the peroxcide on the towel,wiping his arm. “DId you get revenge?”you asked.The peroxcide made the scrape bubble,it was kind of nasty.He nodded. 
“Yeah,I totally did.”He answered.He became kind of nervous,your face was so close to him.you unrolled the banadges,wrapping up his forearm. “Hey,can I ask you a question?”He asked.you nodded,focusing on the bandages. “DId you ever remember your real name?”He asked.
you sighed,a smirk growing on your face. “You’re named after a lizard and you think the name Sunny is weird?”you smiled as you tucked in the end of the bandages. “So Sunny is your real name?”He asked.
you shook your head,putting the peroxcide and bandages back in their spot. “Nope,Chuck just came up with it.Why?”you asked.He shrugged. “I guess its kind of just unfair that we call you something other than your name….Do you just not like it?Your name,I mean.”He huffed.you shrugged. 
“Its just boring.You still have twenty minutes until work actually starts.Do you want to take a nap?”you asked.He shrugged.He had just woken up not to long ago,he didnt need a nap yet. “Id rather talk to you.”He said bravely.you rolled your eyes,sitting back on your stool.
 “Okay,but why do you want to talk to me now?”you asked.you had a point,he hadnt ever tried to talk to you before.He didnt know how or why he had a sudden fascination with you. “WHy not?”He asked.Her eyes narrowed and you smiled a bit. “Alright then.What do you want to talk about?”you asked.
He thought about it for a minute. “I dont know.Wanna play 20 questions?”He asked.you nodded. “Um...how tall are you?”He asked.Your entire face heated up and you shook your head. “Come on,you have to play the game.”He laughed.you just shook your head. 
“You can ask anything else except my height,Okay?”you asked.He nodded. “Can I ask you a question now?”you asked.He nodded,smiling. “Um...whats the stupidest thing youve ever done?”you asked,resting your elbows on your knees.
He thought about it.In two years he had done a lot of stupid things. “I went into the kitchen at two in the morning to make a sandwhich and Fry caught me.”He answered.you bit on your lip,holding back a laugh. 
“What about you?Whats the stupidest thing youve ever done?I mean it cant be that bad,youve only been here for a few weeks.”He said,lying on his stomach and putting his arms under the pillow as he looked up at you.
This bed was a lot more comfortable when you was in there.you smiled awkwardly. “Itriedtosummonpeterpan.”you said quickly,he couldnt even understand you.you talked really fast,like really really fast.
He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion,looking up at your face.you covered your face with your green sleeves. “You did what?”He asked.you looked up at him,the red of your face contrasting against your eyes. “I tried to summon Peter Pan.”you repeated slowly.He smiled from ear to ear,laughing. 
“Well thats one way to get out of here.”He laughed.you scrunched up your nose for a second.Now that he was really close to you he realized that you had one single freckle on the bridge of your nose. “Shut the hell your face.”you grumbled.With a sudden wave of confidence he spoke his next words. “Is that where you came from?”He asked with a smile.Her eyes widened. 
“Yep!And thats where youre going too.”you answered sarcastically.He blushed. “Whats your favorite animal?”He asked. “Me.”you answered almost immediately.He squinted. 
“Okay,youre my favorite animal then.”He answered.The questions went on for a while before you checked your watch and frowned. “You gotta go to work.”you told him.He sighed,sitting up. “Alright,i’ll talk to you later.”He answered,a wave of sadness going through his body.
 “Ok,dont drown.”you said in a serious tone.He looked over at you. “Ok.”Was all he answered before waving from the door as he left.Once you was sure he was gone,you flopped onto the bed and buried your face in the pillow.
you had just talked to Newt for more than 30 seconds.you had just talked to someone for thirty minutes straight.Not only that,but he heard her when you talked.That hardly ever happened.Well damn,now you felt awkward.Maybe it wouldnt be the best to talk to him like that again,you didnt want to catch any feelings.
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taeyongdoyoung · 3 years
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summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans…
ship: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong
genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, romance, ANGST, fantasy
warnings: suicide mentions, murder mentions (rip ariel), depression, panic attack, threats, someone loses a hand (bc let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be a pirate story without hooks), manipulation, betrayal, kidnapping
author’s note: mingi has a cameo, i made him a huge asshole (so sorry, irl mingi), just a reminder that everything i write is completely fictional! mingi is a a total sweetheart, i just needed a villain for the story to develop lmao
word count: 3k
chapter one ☠️ chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter four ☠️ chapter five ☠️ chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight  ☠️chapter nine ☠️ chapter ten ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter twelve ☠️ chapter thirteen☠️ spotify playlist
You finally felt ready enough to face Seonghwa and let him explain himself. It was only fair, after all. You couldn’t take Hongjoong’s word for it, considering how he felt about you. You had to hear Seonghwa’s side of the story in order to make a proper decision. So, when you swam back to the ship all by yourself (because you didn’t want to deal with Soojin’s cheerful remarks right now), you were happy that Hongjoong wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You assumed he would drown you himself if given the chance. Luckily, you saw Yeosang nearby.
“Yeo!” you whisper-yelled. “Can you call Seonghwa for me?”
“Y/N!” Yeosang seemed surprised to see you. “I’ll get him for you rightaway.”
“Great, thanks!”
“Are you…okay?” he was obviously concerned.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” you lied, because you didn’t feel like getting into it in front of Yeosang.
“Just asking,” Yeosang replied vaguely and went to call Seonghwa.
Soon enough, you were faced with him. It had only been a week of no contact with the gorgeous man and you felt like you had missed him for an eternity. You quickly reminded yourself of the reason you’d come here. You couldn’t go easy on him.
“I need to talk to you,” you stated directly.
“I understand,” Seonghwa sighed. “What about?”
“You know what,” you observed. Judging by how guilty his pretty face looked, he knew very well. And he’d spent many sleepless nights considering it. Serves him right, you thought.
“Do you want me to deny it? Because I can’t,” Seonghwa’s voice broke. “It’s true. I knew Ariel and loved her and she died because of that. You have every right to hate me. What more can I say?”
You looked away, overwhelmed by the painful realization Hongjoong had been telling the truth. But he’d left something out, you knew it.
“Tell me the whole story,” you insisted. “You didn’t kill Ariel yourself, right?”
“Of course not!” Seonghwa cried out.
“Then give me a reason to forgive you for keeping this a secret!” you continued. You couldn’t imagine Seonghwa to be the bad guy. You just couldn’t.
“The local tales have got it all wrong,” Hwa admitted. “I was going to marry Ariel, I didn’t give a shit about that princess my parents were trying to set me up with. See, the thing is…they just couldn’t let me be happy. They bribed the sea witch into turning Ariel into sea foam. When I found out, I was so heartbroken I considering ending my own life. But I had to avenge her death, first. So, I tricked the witch into transforming her body into an exact replica of mine. Her greed was so big she really thought I was just going to hand her my kingdom on a plate. After she was done with the magic, I killed her. I made sure my parents would find the body, because I wanted them to suffer for what they’d done to Ariel. By the time I was done executing my revenge, I didn’t want to die. I knew I had to keep living. For her.”
Your eyes were welled up with tears. Seonghwa’s story was completely devastating. And looking at him now…you knew that was the whole truth. You couldn’t have it any other way. But you also couldn’t bear staying. Not yet, at least.
“Seonghwa…I appreciate you telling me all this,” you murmured. “But I’m going to need some time alone, okay? I loved Ariel, too, you know? And this is just…a lot to take in, yeah?”
Seonghwa nodded sadly.
“I’m going to respect your decision. If you want to talk again, you know where to find me, right?”
“Right. Take care, Seonghwa,” you closed your eyes and sniffed lightly.
“You too, Y/N.”
“And…Seonghwa?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”
And with that, you swam away.
☠️☠️☠️
Seonghwa’s POV
This shit hurt like hell. I thought my heart had been at its limit when I found out Ariel had been turned into sea foam. Or when I realized Hongjoong had betrayed my trust. I didn’t think it could take any more heartbreak. But here it was. Still beating despite everything I’d been through. I remembered the time I’d wanted to kill myself. Put an end to all my suffering. I felt that wish slowly returning to me. But I couldn’t imagine inflicting such pain on Y/N or my crewmates. Not even Hongjoong…Because even though he stabbed me in the back, I still cared for him deeply. I also thought about Y/N’s last words to me. She didn’t hate me. Despite all I’d had done, she couldn’t hate me. I kept repeating that to myself. She just needed some time to figure things out for herself. If she could potentially forgive me…why couldn’t I forgive myself?
“Hyung, your hands are shaking!” Yeosang interrupted my distressing thoughts all of a sudden. He grabbed them tightly. “Just, breathe, okay?”
I tried to do as he said. But I felt so numb. So weak. So…alone.
“Everything will be fine, hyung, I’m here,” Yeosang kept repeating until my hands stopped shaking. Then, he held me while I fell asleep without saying a word. I was too weak to even open my mouth. What had become of me? I needed to pull myself together.
☠️☠️☠️
In the morning, I couldn’t find Yeosang in the room. I was just about to thank him for everything he’d done for me. I was feeling a lot better and wanted to cook him some chicken to show my gratitude. When I came out of the room, I asked Wooyoung and San if they had seen him, but they said they hadn’t, which was slightly troubling. Me and Hongjoong still weren’t on speaking terms, so I didn’t bother looking for him. I would find Sangie myself. After an hour, I had searched the whole ship. And there was no trace of Yeosang. Which was extremely distressing. Where could he have gone? Without telling anyone? Not me, not even his best friend Wooyoung. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures. So, I found myself forced to reach out to Hongjoong.
“Have you seen Yeosang?” I asked him without even knocking on his door.
“Oh, so now you want to talk to me?” Hongjoong scoffed.
“I don’t want to,” I groaned. “But I’m worried about him. No one’s heard from him for the past hour. I couldn’t find him anywhere. It’s weird.”
Hongjoong put a hand on his forehead in a tired but unsurprised manner. He obviously knew something I didn’t.
“Hongjoong, where is he?”
“Set the course for Mingi’s territory, I’ll explain everything once we get Yeosang back.”
“WHAT?” I yelled, completely terrified for Yeosang’s life. “WHAT WOULD YEOSANG BE DOING IN MINGI’S TERRITORY?”
☠️☠️☠️
Yeosang’s POV
In retrospect, coming here on my own was a very bad idea. But when I woke up in the middle of the night found a note next to my pillow, saying “Come alone if you don’t want your friends to get hurt,” signed with Mingi’s name, I just couldn’t refuse the challenge. I thought I could take him down once and for all. After he’d sold us out for more treasures and a bigger ship, I wanted nothing more than to get rid of him. But I had overestimated my abilities.
“Where is my ring, Kang?” Mingi roared angrily the minute I set foot on his ship.
“What ring?” I played dumb and gave him the most innocent smile I was capable of.
“The ring you stole from me, you bastard!” Mingi hissed. “Fight with me again. Winner keeps the ring.”
“I don’t have your ring,” I admitted. How could I? I had given it to Soojin…But I would never tell Mingi that. I couldn’t risk him going after my sweet angel.
“You lost it?” Mingi screamed in frustration.
“Whatcha gonna do if I did?” I smirked mischievously. I shouldn’t have asked, damnit. Shouldn’t have provoked him.
Mingi lunged at me with his sword. I pulled out mine quickly and fought back. But fuck me, he was faster and more skilled than the last time I’d faced him. He’d been working out, too. Why did I come here again? Ah, yes, thinking it would be noble to sacrifice myself. As long as my friends were safe, right? Well, guess what, dumbass. If I died, what’s the guarantee Mingi wouldn’t come after my friends, anyways? I fought him as hard as I could but I was so tired…I hadn’t been sleeping much the last coupled of days, because I was too busy comforting Seonghwa and making sure he wasn’t going to do something stupid to himself. And now, all these sleepless nights were taking their toll on my sword performance. One moment of distraction and I would be dead. Mingi could spot my frailness and took advantage of it. So far I was managing to give as good as I get. But I knew this couldn’t last forever. I had come totally unprepared for a fight. When Mingi cut off my right hand, I could barely register what had happened. I just stared at my bleeding arm and the limp hand lying on the ground. Mingi was staring, too. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done.
“Fuck!” I screamed in pain and no sooner had I said that than Hongjoong and Seonghwa appeared from out of nowhere and attacked Mingi’s ship with guns blazing. Thank God. Then, I passed out.
☠️☠️☠️
Hongjoong’s POV
“Shh, let him rest,” I whispered to Wooyoung who was being way too loud once we had safely returned to our own ship. Recap: we took Mingi by surprise, which is why we were lucky enough to succeed in disarming him and snatch poor Yeosang away from him. Mingi had not expected us to find him so quickly but the thing is, I knew him all too well. So, locating him hadn’t been difficult. It was watching the consequences of my mistakes that was hard. Because of my softness, Yeosang had lost his hand…If only I had killed Mingi when I’d had the chance. But he used to be one of us. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. We’d almost gotten executed by the army for being pirates because of his betrayal. And for what? More treasures? A bigger ship? Insignificant things when compared to having a purpose in life, having a family. But who was I to judge him? After all, I had been guilty of treason myself. The way I hurt Seonghwa…I could never forgive myself, even if he, by some miracle, did. I was such an incorrigible asshole.
“What happened?” I heard Yeosang’s weak voice pull me out of my self-deprecating thoughts.
“Well, for starters, you lost a hand,” I informed Yeosang, thought I doubted my input would be of much help.
“I can see that, jackass,” Yeosang rolled his eyes. “How did you get me out in time? How did you beat Mingi?”
“We were just lucky, that’s all,” I lied. I was doing an awful lot of that recently. Yeosang didn’t have to know what I’d given up in order to get there on time. It would break him. And he had already been through hell.
Yeosang narrowed his stare in suspicion, but didn’t push it.
“Where is Seonghwa?”
“He’s resting,” Wooyoung responded. “You should, too, pal, you look like shit.”
“Thanks,” Yeosang groaned sarcastically.
“Listen, Sangie…I know you probably don’t want to hear any of that right now, but this is just a reminder that we’re here for you. And this isn’t the end. You can always learn how to use a sword with your left hand and…”
“You’re right, Cap,” Yeosang cut me off. “I don’t wanna hear it.”
I nodded in understanding.
“Get some sleep, yeah? We’ll talk again…once you’re ready.”
Wooyoung gave his best friend a supportive squeeze of the arm and we left Yeosang to his own devices. He’d be okay. He was a strong one. But me? I was way past saving…
☠️☠️☠️
Seonghwa’s POV
“You promised you’d explain everything once we get Yeosang back,” I grabbed Hongjoong by the collar of his shirt. “We got him back. How did you know he would be on Mingi’s ship? And how on earth did you make the ship move so fast?”
Hongjoong closed his eyes to hide himself from me. But I wasn’t going to let him. He would tell me the truth or he would have to say goodbye to me. For good.
“Seonghwa…”
“No, Hongjoong. You will tell me everything right now or I’m walking out of here, you hear me?”
Hongjoong opened his eyes, fear evident in them.
“Where do you want me to start?”
“At the beginning.”
“But you have to listen without saying a word. Telling you all this is going to be quite difficult for me. If you have any questions, ask me after I’m done. Can you do that for me?”
I nodded.
“So…you know how Yeosang stole this really pretty ring from Mingi back when he betrayed us? But what you don’t know is that this ring was the only thing Mingi had left from his lover. Now, I don’t know her identity but whoever she was, she meant the world to Mingi. See, the problem is…Yeosang gave that ring to Soojin. And I somehow…suspected that Mingi would find out the ring was missing. That he would come looking for the ring. And I was right. It’s just a miracle we got there on time.”
I tilted my head slightly. Something didn’t add up. I didn’t trust Hongjoong’s bullshit explanation. He was keeping something from me. Again.
“You suspected it? A miracle? Do you take me for a fool, Hongjoong? What are you not telling me?”
Hongjoong bit his lower lip as if it to keep his precious secrets from spilling.
“Mingi’s lover was the sea witch you killed. The same who turned Ariel into sea foam.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I hissed angrily.
“I wish I was. A couple of hours ago when we were on his ship, Mingi confronted me about it. He said he knew she wouldn’t just disappear from him without a trace. I told him she was dead. I’d buried her body. Well, your body. ”
“Hongjoong…” I clenched my fists and gave him a warning look that was self-explanatory.
“I didn’t tell him you killed her, of course,” Hongjoong replied quickly. “But I did tell him it was mermaids who killed her,” he announced proudly. What the fuck?
“You didn’t…” I said in vain, even though I already knew he did. He was that big of a dumbass. “What if he comes after Y/N? After Soojin? They’re innocent, Hongjoong! How could you involve them like this?”
“Was I supposed to let Mingi come after you? We barely escaped him...”
I shook my head in disappointment. He was insane. Then, it hit me. He was still hiding something. Something bigger.
“How did we get there so fast?”
Hongjoong gulped nervously.
“Don’t make me…” he begged.
“Make you?” I laughed maniacally. “You dug your own grave, sweetheart.”
Hongjoong flinched as if I’d struck him. Had I gone too far? Maybe. But he started it.
“I won’t tell you,” he was adamant about it. “I’ll tell you anything else but not this.”
“Then, we’re done here,” I turned around and started walking away.
“No, Hwa, please,” Hongjoong begged and tried to take my hand but I shrugged him off.
“You don’t get to keep things like that from me, to betray my trust again and again, and then ask me to stay,” I whispered.
🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️
Reader’s POV
“How long will it take you to forgive Seonghwa?” Soojin sighed, exasperated.
“What’s it to you? You can go see your precious boyfriend whenever you want,” you snapped at your sister.
“Yeah, but it’s way more fun when we go to our pirates together!” Soojin explained.
You laughed sarcastically.
“Since when are they our pirates? They are humans, Soojin, not property!”
“Okay, okay,” Soojin lifted her arms in the air, surrendering. “But seriously…we should go talk to them again. I have a bad feeling…I don’t know how to explain it, I just…I’m worried about Yeosang. Please?”
You agreed reluctantly.
“But if everything’s alright, I’m going back here,” you announced.
Soojin nodded excitedly. The two of you swam up. Once you reached the surface, you realized Soojin had picked an awful time to check up on Yeosang. It was too dark. And as you approached the ship, you were overwhelmed by a gnawing sensation. Soojin had been right. Something was awfully wrong. The ship seemed exactly like Hongjoong’s…And yet, there was something strange you couldn’t quite place. Did it look bigger at night? How was this possible? You had seen it at night when you’d saved Seonghwa from drowning…And it did not look like this. Had your memories deceived you? You could tell this was certainly a pirate ship. But why were you doubting it was the pirate ship you’d been looking for? What were the odds to run into other pirates in the middle of the night? You were fairly certain you could recognize Hongjoong’s ship anywhere. And yet…
“Yeosang!” Soojin started screaming mournfully. “Where are you?” You could tell by her voice that she was worried sick about her pirate boyfriend. And for a good reason.
“Shh,” you pressed your hand against your sister’s mouth. “Quiet. Something’s not right.”
She blinked at you in confusion.
“What do you mean?” she mouthed.
“I don’t know,” you mouthed back. “But before we found out, can you keep it down?”
Soojin nodded, obviously trusting your judgement. She was uncharacteristically anxious, too. Instead of her usual cheerful self, she was being very jumpy.
“Listen…let’s come back here when it’s daylight, okay?” you suggested. “I’m sure Yeosang will be fine.”
“Just let me try calling his name one more time, yeah?” Soojin murmured hopefully.
“Soojin, no!” you tried to stop her but it was already too late.
“YEOSANG!” Soojin cried out.
It was in that moment the fishnets fell upon you.
To be continued…
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samtheflamingomain · 2 years
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25.21%
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I've been sober for 3 months today. 92 days. 25.21% of 2021.
I could've posted more updates, more milestones (it took a LOT not to post on Day 69) but I wanted to kind of save it up for a Big Day. It was also a decent way to continue to incentivize my continued sobriety: a full pass to do a shameless, hardcore bragging sesh.
Anyway, this post comes in 2 parts: the TL;DR for those who only want the gist, then more in depth on my ability to stay sober, the lasting effects of rehab, etc.
I tried my damnedest to pare this absolute novel down, but it's long, so feel free to dip out if you just get bored. Onward!
TL;DR: I went to rehab the beginning of July for 3 weeks and haven't had a drop of alcohol since. I've lost weight, I'm more healthy, my daily anxiety level went from 8 to 2, I haven't had an anxiety attack in 3 months, and everything generally just seems... easier. My memory and concentration have improved. I've been productive and I've been meditating every day. I'm saving money, and while I sometimes fantasize about getting drunk, that's usually all it is.
Honestly, it's been much easier than I expected, but I think a lot of that is because for the first 3 weeks, the time in which I would usually break down and start drinking again when trying to get sober myself, was spent behind a locked door. So far I haven't had any days where I was close to giving in. I haven't had many days where I've been depressed about it, missing it or really tempted. Maybe 3-4. I've basically just gotten on with my life as if alcohol doesn't exist.
To wrap up the short version for those ready to peace out, I'll leave it with a bit of advice.
I don't feel qualified to give any specific advice, because my story feels very unique to me, and I honestly don't think what worked for me will work for MOST people. Sometimes people spend a year in rehab and still drive straight to the liquor store on their way home.
That said, there's one thing that I've found pretty universally true: you have to really want it. For a while, I floated about without much of a "reason" to stay sober. I don't have a spouse, kids or a job I've been fired from, so I didn't see the point.
It's taken me a while, but after not being "convinced" by a few superficial "reasons" like weight loss and saving money, I thought I needed something more... permanent? Consequential? I now realize that my "reason" for getting sober at a young age after only a few years of alcoholism is that I don't want it to get to a point where I'm hurting other people, drinking myself into multiple lasting health problems... I don't want it to become permanent or consequential.
Anyway, that's my two cents. If you do have something like kids or trouble keeping a job, definitely use that as your reason. But for anyone who's a pretty "functional" alcoholic like I was, "not letting it go on long enough to become disfunctional" is a good enough reason.
This is going to get stupid long, so feel free to walk away now, just glad you read this much and it really does mean the world when people listen to what I have to say.
Now some more things in depth. I'll go in chronological order: what made me get sober, what I took from rehab (and what I left), and how it's been the past few months.
I started drinking when I got kicked out, manic out of my mind and homeless unable to sleep. It took a while until I was able to sleep without alcohol, but by then the addict brain had taken over. I'd tried a few times to get sober myself, but I never made it more than a week without, and always got back to daily drinking after a few months maximum.
Some people need a "wake up call", a "last straw" or a "rock bottom". Something external to make them realize they can't go on as they are. For me, the catalyst was my health, which is more of an internal reason I suppose. I didn't have a heart attack or liver failure, but my anxiety was getting uncontrollable and I knew it was directly tied to my drinking.
My life had been starting to feel tolerable, and I was more financially secure than ever before. Things were looking up... except for the alcoholism. This is a weird analogy but the only one that makes sense to express why, if I was doing so well on paper, I decided to go to rehab: you have to sweep before you mop. If I hadn't been in the place I was, I don't think I would've been successful at rehab. I had to sweep up the cat turds from the floor of my life before I was able to mop up the shit stains with sobriety. I know, I'm a true wordsmith.
When I finally called the hotline that hooked me up with a bunch of different rehabs, I knew I was in for a wait. It was about 5 months from that call to checking in, which isn't too bad considering I've been on the waitlist for a neuropsychiatrist in ALL OF CANADA for 4 years.
That brings us to July 12th, Rehab Day One. I've gone in depth in multiple other posts but to touch on it briefly, if I had to describe my experience in a sentence I'd say "the place I went to got very lucky with me".
What this means is that, of the 5 people in my group, I think this exact program was only ever going to help me. At the same time, I didn't even know what I would need, but this exact program was 90% of it. I didn't think 3 weeks would be long enough, but for me it was. The hours-long, repetitive, basic-ass CBT groups held 5 times a day 7 days a week was absolute torture for everyone but myself. While it was a drag to spend an hour on defining what a cognitive distortion is, the routine and repetition, something I've never gotten out of any outpatient program, helped me to really absorb the information and let it rewire my brain.
I've always said that I'm someone who should be spending an hour a day with a therapist for the rest of my life, and while that's not even remotely feasible, this was as close as it's ever gotten, and it proved me right, because it worked. I've done biweekly therapy for a short time but even that didn't come close to the way my brain changed in those 3 short weeks.
This program required absolute commitment and open-mindedness. This isn't because it was hard work or difficult concepts, but quite the opposite. While I hate the entire concept of art therapy being used as a cure-all for mental illness, I willingly got out of my bed, went downstairs and tried doing a dot mandala for an hour because I'm willing to try anything to get better. A lot of people might think they are, but really aren't. To use the mandala as an example, one guy was really into it, I wasn't, but we both finished. The other 3 tried, messed up a few times, and then scrolled through their phones. When I say this program necessitates complete engagement, that's not a compliment. It shouldn't be a chore to engage with the program. It shouldn't take me actively saying "I know I've known this basic concept since 4th grade, but maybe hearing it again will help" to get something out of a rehab program. So again, in every way, I got lucky, and so did they.
Before I finish with the rehab section, having had a few months to reflect on the whole thing, I now have an endless list of things wrong with it. I arrived, greeted by the most jaded and disillusioned of staff, and quickly became disturbed and at points concerned with just how negligent the staff are.
Maybe it's because I've been on the psych ward where they won't even let you have shoelaces and shine a flashlight on your face every half hour through the night, but it could've been so incredibly easy to sneak in alcohol. I brought 2 full water bottles, fully expecting to have to dump them out upon arrival, but they said "nah it's fine". Is it though?
Then there were actual counsellors there who were... okay. I recall one, the one I thought was the smartest, reading a handout aloud and coming across the word "delve" as in "let's delve into..." and stumbled, then said she doesn't know that word. The room was silent. As she pulled up Google on the screen I said, "it means to dive into it". She Googled it anyway. Synonyms include "dive in". If that was the only example I wouldn't mention it, but this was the first of at least 10 words she had do Google, none past a 10th grade level, from HER OWN MATERIAL. From that point on it became clear that they had no fucking idea what they were doing.
We had one last one-on-one counselling session before we left and the counsellor just filled in boxes to questions on her computer, rephrasing everything I said to fit into the buzzwords and "lessons" we'd "learned". Example. Me: I do think I'm better able to catch myself thinking 'oh I can just have one drink' and say 'no I can't'." Her: "Okay, so would you say that you can recognize negative cognitive distortions like permission-giving thoughts and counter them with a more rational and less emotional mind?" Like girl, blink twice if your boss is holding your family hostage. She gave me some papers, detailing all the online courses they were signing me up for and options for more treatment they'd be sending me, a phone number to call and a phone appointment for the next Monday. I never got that call, the phone number is a hotline, I never got a single email from them, and given how shitty they really are at their jobs, I didn't feel the inclination to try and get those resources. If they even exist in the first place.
In summation, it was a place where it was physically impossible to get alcohol. That's really all I can say in its favor. Oh, and they let you have your cell phone.
Now on our timeline I'm back home. I want to kind of analyze why it's been easy for me.
I often said that my main goal of going to rehab was to lock me away from alcohol long enough for it to reset my brain. Most people thought that was naïve, but that's exactly what happened. But I'm well aware that my experience of "instantly became sober and literally hasn't had a single hard day in 3 months" is absurdly unusual.
I put this down to a few things. Firstly, I'm on seven different meds for my mental health. Almost all of them have their effects dulled or even eliminated when you drink. So when I noticed my mood, fatigue, memory, concentration etc all getting better at once - right about as I left rehab, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that all those meds started working properly.
Secondly, I've been keeping myself busy, but that's something I've always been good at. Now I specifically choose to undertake projects that will eat up a lot my time and put me in a state of flow. I recently made an entire card game from scratch, and let me tell you, I didn't think of alcohol for a week.
Thirdly, my other goals now get in the way of alcohol. I'm getting old and my body is deteriorating. But I've always wanted to do just one last season of gymnastics. Well, I need to lose weight for that to happen. I've already lost 35 pounds, and after another 20 I'll be ready to go. Also, I used to spend more on alcohol per month than rent. Even though I've done a few shopping sprees lately, I haven't come remotely close to how much I was spending before.
I want it more than anything. I want to be sober more than I want one night of "fun" that will more likely than not lead me back to where I was a year ago. I never want to need anything as much as I needed alcohol.
Lastly, just a few more random thoughts.
A lot of people, myself included, worried about the fact that I work at a bar as a cook, but honestly the entire time I'm there I'm thinking about food, not alcohol. If I'm hanging out with some regulars before/after, I can watch them drink and be perfectly fine with my coffee, because the coffee is $2, and I used to spend $20 after every work shift.
I also decided in rehab to start taking better care of myself as best I could. This started with getting my second vax which I'd been putting off, then an eye appointment, then new glasses, then a dentist appointment where I was informed I need to do $3000 worth of work on my implant that's erroding my bone matter, so that sucks, but I caught it early. I've also been meditating every day. In just 3 months, I've made pretty big improvements to my self-care and my daily routine.
One of my fears about sobriety was "missing out" on "having fun". A few days ago, all my housemates got together to play Mario Party, and it was kind of my first night doing something social while sober. It was a breath of fresh air - I wasn't constantly running to piss, I didn't worry about running out of alcohol, I didn't get sloppy and obnoxious as I can sometimes do. I even came very very close to winning my first game of MP. When I reflected on the night, I realized that, if I'd been getting drunk the whole time, I would've sucked at the minigames, been a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to be teamed with me, and likely would've stopped caring about the game itself after the first few turns.
Yesterday I was making my 4th pot of coffee of the day when I realized there was a full glass of wine just sitting on the counter. I had absolutely no idea where the hell it came from - nobody in my house drinks wine. I shrugged and poured that sweet sweet bean juice. It was only when I sat down and took a sip of coffee did I find myself thinking automatically, "this tastes so much better than wine". I only realized then that it had been rose wine, the only kind I've ever been able to tolerate. It was the ultimate moment of possible temptation, and the thought of just chugging that glass - as I may've done in the past - didn't even cross my mind.
I'm so glad to be where I am. I'm about to undergo some serious financial changes - i.e. going absolutely broke - but drinking isn't gonna help that, so I'm cautiously optimistic.
Stay Greater, Flamingos.
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The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 10)
A/n: What, thought I was done with this series. HA NO!! I still have a playlist for this shit and it fuels me. Just, slowly.
Word Count: 5000+
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Masterlist
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"Parents will never admit to this, but they always have a favorite." Jerome looked at Jeremiah as he lounged on his chair. "Right, brother?" Harley felt eyes on him so he looked over, only to look directly in Bruce's eyes. There was something there that spoke to Harley what both boys knew- this wasn't about Bruce. The younger boy seemed to be trying to reason or apologize without words, but Harley just looked away. It was far too late for that bullshit. "The one who cleans their room. Does their homework." Every word was a twist of a knife Harley didn't realize was buried in his chest. He was maybe the one who understood Jerome the most. Maybe that's why they'd gotten this far with each other. "Who doesn't try to kill everybody." Harley smiled. "Little Mr. Perfect here? Yeah. He was that guy. He was adopted by rich folks. Went to the top schools, then a top college." Harley suddenly felt angry. Angry at Jerome's family. At everyone in Jerome's past, in fact. Especially at Jeremiah Valeska. And you know what... at Bruce Wayne too. "Meanwhile, I got dragged through the circus by my depressed, alcoholic mother. Forced to clean up elephant dung every day."
"Who cares?" Someone in the crowd shouted. People began to speak up in agreement.
Harley stepped forward. "Don't interrupt the man!" He hefted his bat and the crowd suddenly went silent.
Jerome looked pleased, but his smile died quickly as he returned to his little rant. Harley moved behind him, running his free hand through Jerome's hair every once in a while. "Do you know how big those things are?" He was completely calm, but in a sort of empty way as his eyes searched out people in the crowd. Harley recognized the plea. For understanding. For pity. For anything. Someone to get him and not judge him and tell him that he was right to be doing what he was doing. Everyone's disapproval didn't stop him, but he yearned for someone to love him and it was so very clear to Harley now more than ever that it upset him. Why were people always so cruel? "But I know something mommy and daddy," Jerome continued. "They never knew. You’re as crazy as I am." Jerome dropped the mic, standing. "It's in your DNA." He turned to Jeremiah, Harley right next to him, still brandishing his bat as he watched Jerome's back. "See, we got the same blood running through us. We are practically identical. You are a killer." He had a knife and he moved close to Jeremiah, obviously trying to put him on edge. "It's in your nature. Stop trying to fight it." He cut Jeremiah's ties and there was a pause. "Take your best shot."
"What?" Harley demanded, turning around. He found his body stiff with panic. Hard to move and respond with. Jeremiah was holding the knife Jerome had been a few seconds before. He went to step forward to stop this, but Jerome held up a hand. Harley looked at Jerome with rage. "Jerome-" Jerome shushed him.
Perhaps the man still could take Harley by surprise.
Jeremiah looked at his brother, his features slowly twisting with more and more anger until he screamed, trying to tackle Jerome to the ground but failing. Jerome giggled as he kicked Jeremiah and Harley frowned. He stepped away, irritated that Jerome hadn't at least cued him in on this part of the plan. At least given him a head's up or something... As he looked away, he noticed Bruce. This time the boy was looking at Jeremiah, his face twisted in pain and anger. Harley rose an eyebrow. He'd seen Bruce be pissed by injustice before, but there wasn't just his sense of right or wrong driving him to these emotions. There was a sort of protectiveness in the way his hands curled into fists. He'd only seen it when someone had gotten a little too rough with Y/n back in the days, or when Selina had been in danger those few times Harley had seen Bruce get protective of her.
What were the odds that Harley wasn't the only Wayne that had a crush of some kind on a Valeska?
From the way he struggled against his ropes, Harley was starting to think they were getting more probable by the second.
Everything was cut short as gun fire went off on the rooftops, diverting Jerome's attention just long enough to be shot in the shoulder by Jim Gordon. Bruce escaped, Jerome's trigger didn't work, and everyone was scattering as a giant blimp began to inch across the sky. Harley moved to Jerome, slinging Jerome's arm around his shoulders. Jerome pulled away though. "What's up?" Harley demanded, desperate to escape in the chaos.
Jerome groaned. "I have an idea. But we need to go up." Harley hesitated but then nodded, both of the men running to a nearby building and up the flight of stairs to the roof. Harley hid just out of sight when Jerome told him to. Jim busted onto the scene moments later and Harley ducked out of sight, moving so he could still see even if he couldn't quite hear. Words, at least. The gun shots he heard clearly. One to Jerome's hand, knocking the phone away. Another to his stomach, and Jerome was falling. Back. Off the ledge and over.
Harley almost threw up. He was stunned, eyes wide as he watched Gordon scramble forward. He only got comfort when he heard talking over the side and saw Jim reach down a hand... Harley rushed forward, hitting the back of Jim's head with the bat he still had. The officer crumbled.
"Gordon?"
Harley leaned over the side to see Jerome barely dangling by a pole. "You idiot." Only now did Harley realize he was crying. He reached down but Jerome just frowned, not taking it. Something then dawned on Harley and the boy paled. "You weren't going to take his hand either, were you?"
Jerome grunted, rolling his eyes. "This is the end of the line for me, Harley."
"No the fuck it isn't," Harley snapped back. "You promised me we'd talk about us later." He shook his hand, offering it again. "You've been driven by hate and loneliness and spite your entire life. You didn't think past that night you killed your mom, did you?” Something changed in Jerome’s face, but Harley was too angry to stop. “You barely tried to hide it, and you made minimal effort to get away with it. Then after, you stayed in Gotham to, what? Destroy your brother?" Harley scoffed. "I'm tired of this Jerome. Damnit, I'm tired of watching people suffer." He sniffed and Jerome's face seemed to relax as he actually listened. "We can kill whoever you want, I don't care. But my brother and your brother have a crush on each other and it's hilarious and I need you here to laugh with me about it, okay?" He choked up. "I need you to rule this stupid town with me. Or to not to. Maybe we could stay lowkey or leave. Maybe we could hide out somewhere and just go missing or fake our deaths and never show our faces again so no one knows we're around to even find us. Maybe..." He shrugged. "You can take me to whatever hell you want to Jerome. Let's blow more things up and kiss over dead bodies. You don't have to ruin your brother just because he ruined you. Or maybe you do. Whatever. Just come back with me, okay? Please." Harley stretched out his hand more and Jerome got a new look on his face.
He took Harley's hand, and Harley hauled him up, struggling only minority. The second he was standing, Harley grabbed his face and kissed him. Jerome hooked his good arm around Harley's waist, keeping them close. "You love me."
Harley held tightly to Jerome, closing his eyes as he tried to let go of the mental image his brain was trying to create of Jerome being flattened on the street below. "More than I even love myself," Harley confirmed. "It's probably why I've stuck around, really."
Jerome hummed. "Our brothers have a thing for each other, huh?"
Harley laughed. He leaned back and Jerome reached up, wiping the tears away. "Maybe we could just let them be." Harley shrugged again, struggling to come up with the words to explain how he was feeling. "If they really do like each other..."
"My brother is as messed up as I am," Jerome warned. "I'm at least fun- he's just manipulative."
Harley nodded. "Then what better way to break them than have them break each other, hm?" Harley nudged him. "And if he does end up being total shit, then we can turn him crazy just like you want to with that gas of yours." Harley sighed. "Just, I don't know, my brother deserves to be happy. He's lost his parents and now his brother and his whole world is on its head and-" he stopped cold, sucking in a sharp breath. "It's his birthday today." The day occurred to him suddenly and he looked up at Jerome, pleading. "Would it be too much to ask for?"
Jerome pursed his lips. "When he hurts him-"
"You can kill him, and I'll help you."
A smile finally grew on Jerome's lips. He knew this was a win-win. Either he was wrong about his brother and they all got somewhat of a happy ending, or he was going to see some actual fun. Either way, it was going to be entertaining. "Fine." He sighed. "We have to get to his little base quick then, though." His smile grew and Harley felt himself get excited.
-
"Hey Handsome."
Jeremiah jumped at the sound of Harley's voice. He went tense, looking around for his brother who usually accompanied the boy in front of him. No sign. "What are you doing here?"
Harley shrugged. He was pretty amicable so Jeremiah calmed even if he didn't totally relax. "I killed Jerome."
That seemed to take Jeremiah by surprise. Understandable. He wanted to doubt Harley, but the boy's expression was open and honest. Even vulnerable, like he was apologizing. "Why?" He asked instead of voicing doubts that were slipping away. Harley was wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans now, different from the little fancy get up he'd been wearing while with Jerome. There was something different about the boy in front of him as well. Something distinctively different than the Harley that had flirted with him a foot away from Jeremiah's brother, who was presumably also Harley's boyfriend.
"He tried to kill Bruce." Harley sighed, leaning against the wall behind him. "We had an agreement that Bruce was untouchable. If he died accidentally because he was being an idiot, fine. But Jerome sought him out specifically. And on his birthday." Harley clicked his tongue, shaking his head back and forth. "Bruce can hate me. He has every right to. But he's still my younger brother." He looked away. "He means everything to me, you know. We used to be best friends." He smiled softly but then looked back at Jeremiah, clearing his throat. "Sorry. I'm sure you're not wanting to hear that after I've told you your own brother is dead."
"No,"Jeremiah reassured. "It's actually quite a relief." Harley nodded as if he understood. "Wait but why did you come here? Just to...tell me that?" Harley held up a purple package with a huge silver ribbon. Only then did Jeremiah realize the boy had been holding it at all. "And what's that?"
"Jerome came up with a gas. Had Scarecrow make it himself. Kind of like fear gas, but it makes you..." Harley tilted his head back and forth as he searched for the word. "More like Jerome, to put it nicely. Unhinged." Jeremiah stepped back from the box, curling into himself. "I didn't want his plan to succeed, so I'm here to step in."
Jeremiah looked at Harley, confused again. "Why would you care what happened to me?"
A smile rose to Harley's face, soft and rather attractive. Jeremiah had already come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Harley Quinn. He was also attracted to Bruce Wayne, so maybe it was just that the Wayne bloodline produced very good looking men. Whatever it was, Harley seemed much more welcoming and friendly now compared to his flirting the last time they'd had an extended conversation. One where Harley had stood up for Jerome and seemed to hate Jeremiah. One that had left an impression to someone who was quite opposite of the man standing in front of Jeremiah now. "I see the way my brother looks at you."
Jeremiah felt his heart pick up. "You- what?"
Harley giggled. "I don't think even he knows yet, but he does have some feeling toward you. I figure he's lost enough people. Had far too many opportunities for something he deserved pass him by. He's sacrificed enough." Harley stepped forward, closer to Jeremiah. "I guess I want to get you guys together. Maybe one relationship between a Valeska and Wayne can actually work out." Harley's smile was strained here and Jeremiah felt pity for the boy. "So what do you say? You couldn't tell him I was around, of course, but I'm sure you'd do a lot better with a bit of help."
Excitement rose up in Jeremiah's features. "You can stay here if you want. I have a free room I could make into somewhere you can sleep."
Harley grinned. "How sweet. I actually would appreciate that, if you don't mind." He stepped away. "I have to dispose of this, but... you know, I think we're gonna be good friends." He nodded in a silent farewell and Jeremiah smiled in return. Harley found his way out himself. Jeremiah didn't think anything of it as he was far too excited thinking about the possibility that Bruce Wayne could return his feelings on any level, as well as the possibility of having a real guy friend his age. Ecco was cool, but branching out a bit wouldn't hurt.
It took five minutes for Harley to find his way out. He skipped to the waiting car then got in the driver's seat, starting it up and taking off. Jerome grinned from the passenger seat. "How is it that you got around without that little blonde girl following you?"
Harley scoffed cockily. "If you and him think the same, then I can just as easily figure out that maze of his as you can. The same way I assume Ecco has it down as well. She knows Jeremiah like the back of her hand. The same way that I know you." He shot a wink at Jerome who smirked, leaning back in his seat.
"So you're my little secret weapon, eh?"
Harley giggled as he pulled to a stop at the building they'd been hiding out in since escaping Arkham. "Something like that."
Jerome leaned over, catching Harley's chin in his fingers, and then Harley's lips with his own. The kiss was slow and deep and purposeful, and it made all of Harley's insides light on fire. "You know, I love you too." Harley's head was spinning and he couldn't wrap his mind around that kiss let alone the words that had followed it. Jerome had never kissed him like that.
"What a joker," Harley croaked. It had become a bit of a running gag  to call Jerome that. "Cute but totally rude."
Jerome's hold on Harley's face tightened. He looked angry. Maybe Harley had offended him. But how could he have? “You know Harley, I show you every time I've been genuine. You've seen me afraid. You've seen me sad. You've seen me confused. You've seen me have many other emotions beside just amusement and anger which is what most people see. You've seen me about to jump off a building and end it all for god's sake." Harley swallowed, trying not to let that exact instance come back to him as a memory in his already muddled state. "Do I look like I'm joking to you?"
Harley wet his lips. "Why me?"
Jerome smiled, giggling softly. "Because you're just like me, and you accept that. You thrive off of it. I don't have to bend and twist to get it out- you wear your crazy like a badge. You walk through fire to be with me just because I've asked you to. Because you love me, and I like it, even though I’ve despised the thought of love... until now. You're probably the only person in my life who's ever loved me." His hold loosened in favor of caressing Harley's face. "You were right, you know." He snorted, as if amused by the sentence. He must not have said it a lot. "You can't just belong to me. And you don't. I belong to you too. I really would do anything for you." Smiling, Harley leaned forward and kissed him again.
There was a certain excitement in the moment. Jerome loved him.
There was also a sense of dread. A sense of being locked up, in a sense. Jerome had never been loved before. Had never loved anyone more than he loved himself before. He wouldn't handle it well if Harley was hurt or left him. Harley couldn't imagine wanting to leave Jerome after everything they've been through, but normal relationships always had the recognition that it might happen, right? You dreaded that moment and hoped it never happened... By the look in Jerome's eyes, Harley knew that wasn't a possibility. They were stuck together forever now. It was Jerome's Harley and Harley's little Joker. Forever.
Or, at least, until death do them part.
-
"Hey Lovebird," Harley greeted brightly one morning.
Jeremiah scoffed, but he was smiling so Harley knew no harm had been done. "Good morning Harley."
Harley waved at Ecco who nodded at him in return, a small smile on her face. "Any plans today?" Harley asked, setting himself down next to Jeremiah.
A little coy curve of his lips was answer enough, but Jeremiah explained anyway. "Bruce is coming over today to see the new prototypes." Here he got excited, going into full nerd mode. Harley and Jeremiah had begun to get close. It was kind of wild to see a sane version of Jerome. Boring though. Harley could never bring himself to spend too much time with Jeremiah before he needed to visit his boyfriend again.
His boyfriend. Jerome had finally made it official and had picked up the pet names again. Harley was weak over it. He didn't think he'd ever have a boyfriend, let alone one who was so unapologetically proud of being with him. Someone who really loved him and encouraged him to be himself. It was exhilarating.
Ecco brushed her fingers along the back of Harley's head. The boy knocked out of his thoughts and looked up to see Jeremiah looking expectantly. "Oh sorry." Harley blushed, embarrassed. "What did you say?"
Jeremiah shook his head, but he still had that amused smirk on his face. A teasing expression. Lighthearted. "I was saying that I was thinking about maybe asking him on a date after. If... if you think it's not too early to do that? Or if he won't totally shoot me down?" He got nervous.
It seemed that Jeremiah had gotten into the habit of ignoring little odd things Harley did. He still hadn't asked how Harley so easily found his way through the maze, nor did he question little moments like just now. What could Harley be so happy about? Maybe he wrote it all down to Harley's time with Jerome and his excitement for the possibility of his brother being happy or something. I think Jeremiah was basking in the feeling of watching two brothers really care about each other- something he never experienced but undoubtedly had wanted in some way or another. Harley was curious but couldn't ask, himself. All the odd things he was doing didn't need to be brought to light in favor of exposing the little odd things Jeremiah was doing. And Ecco seemed to trust Harley enough, as long as he made no move to hurt Jeremiah in any way. So for now, it was fine. I guess.
"I don't really know," Harley relented. "The only relationship I've ever been in wasn't exactly... normal."
Jeremiah suddenly got very serious. "Of course, sorry."
"No worries," Harley dismissed. "I just mean I would probably be a bad gauge of timing. I think you should go for it though. Maybe try to be subtle, but definitely drop some hints and give it a try." He smiled and Jeremiah mirrored the expression, relaxing as he daydreamed just a little bit about things that might happen if this whole thing went well. "Until then," Harley continued, flicking Jeremiah's shoulder to get his attention back. Jeremiah blushed, making Ecco smirk and roll her eyes. "Let's make some dinner. Nothing will get him to stay like some good food, and knowing him, he'll probably have skipped a meal again while still unsure if Jerome is alive or not." Harley looked at his hands.
Jeremiah swallowed. "Yeah, makes sense." He moved to Harley, nudging Harley's shoulder with his own. "Come and help me?" He was trying to be a good friend and keep Harley distracted from sad thoughts. Little did he know that Harley was simply annoyed. He just wanted to be happy with his boyfriend without his brother trying to find them both and throw them back in that hell hole Arkham.
"Fore sure," Harley responded anyway, forcing a smile. "We better hurry. Waynes have high standards for food."
-
Harley chilled in the room with all the monitors as Jeremiah showed off his prototype to Bruce. Jeremiah had moved the operation to the room to allow Harley to listen in and gauge Bruce's reaction to things. Harley couldn't help without coming out and revealing himself, but Ecco went back and forth so if Jeremiah really needed a hand he could give advice through her. Harley and Ecco together were really good at coming up with solutions and dealing with romance. They seemed to be able to find a whole braincell between them, and it worked well. It was quite impressive actually.
Bruce seemed super interested in Jeremiah's little project, but every once in a while those eyes full of light and excitement would turn from the energy thingy - Jeremiah had explained it maybe hundreds of times to Harley, but he still didn't exactly get how it worked - to Jeremiah, and his eyes would get even brighter; his smile even wider. Harley got it, honestly. Jeremiah was shy and soft spoken for the most part but get him talking about his idea for this cleaner power source and he came alive in a way that made him all levels of adorable. He used his hands to talk when he was excited, and kept looking between the project he was explaining and the boy he was explaining it to. Every time the boys' eyes met, both of them got a little pinker and it made Harley giggle.
"They're such nerds," Harley scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"They're idiots," Ecco agreed. "Which is crazy considering they're both seen as geniuses in Gotham. Especially Jeremiah." They both laughed softly before Ecco headed out again, leaving Harley alone.
Watching them took quite a while, and as time passed Harley found himself getting more sad. He wished that he could do things like that with Jerome. Flirt and geek out together and share little looks and innocent moments. Go on dates and hold hands and share long looks and dusty pink blushes. Harley wondered if Jerome had ever looked at him like that. No, such a soft look didn’t belong on Jerome’s face.
Eventually it ended and outside the compound, Jeremiah asked Bruce on a date. Obviously the boy said yes. Inside, the trio of friends celebrated as Bruce went home that night. And after they’d cheered and congratulated, Harley told Jeremiah that he needed some air and headed out.
This was another odd thing that Jeremiah was choosing to ignore. Sometimes Harley stayed the night and sometimes he didn’t. No one questioned it.
Harley headed to the hideout where Jerome was waiting for him. He was busy though, seeming distracted by a small book and lots of drawings. Harley planted himself on the couch to give Jerome some space. Whether he was planning or just musing, Jerome likes his space when doing it. Harley was willing to wait and give it to him.
In the quiet, Harley’s mind wandered back to his thoughts from earlier. He imagined just for a second, a world where Jerome’s smiles were soft. Where his smiles were warm. Where his eyes were wide and his words were honest and soothing. Where his touch was gentle. Where they were together and they cuddled in the park during lunchtime and had a picnic as Jerome rubbed his back and they both lay in peace and quiet. He imagined kisses that brushed rather than bruised. It was a sweet thought. A fantasy he’d loved as a child.
Did he still like it? Could he imagine himself in a life where he got a job and wore a suit or even a tshirt and jeans like he had been for Jeremiah? Like he had when he wasn’t Harley Quinn? Honestly, he couldn’t.
A frown took his face. He had nothing to distract him and icky feelings began to rise up, so he defaulted to habits that had yet to fail him. He went out to the store and got a drawing notebook and a pack of pencils and then colored pencils and got to work. He sat and drew as he continued to wait for Jerome, sifting through his mind.
He expected to draw that fantasy. That park and the grass and the serene expressions on his and Jerome’s faces. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it though and instead spent the next however long drawing memories rather than fantasy. All of them were Jerome, and there was blood everywhere. Most of them were just doodles, but the expressions he focused on. He made sure to capture the twisted enjoyment in each recall.
Only then did he divert to that sort of calm Jerome. Not Jeremiah, who was a coward and awkward and kind of annoying and paranoid and boring. A Jerome who’d grown up in a place that was loving and a world that was accepting.
This drawing took time. It was detailed and careful as Y/n drew the smiling face of a boy that had been destroyed before he even had a chance to begin. There was softness and warmth and gentleness and it made Y/n grown even more deeply.
“What’s that?”
He hadn’t realized Jerome and gotten up, but it didn’t bother him to show his boyfriend what he was doing. Harley had nothing to hide. “I’m having these thoughts. Watching Jeremiah and Bruce today...” he shrugged. “It made me think.”
Jerome hopped over the back of the couch, landing next to Harley. He tilted his head in curiosity. “Think about what?”
Harley offered a small smile. “You don’t want to hear about it.”
Raising an eyebrow, Jerome countered, “You don’t know what I want to know. Tell me!”
Sighing softly, Harley gave in. “You know every tine we have sex, it’s rough. And every time you kiss me it’s hard and desperate. Like it might be the last time. Every time you look at me there’s a heaviness in your expression. Like your affection for me is weighed down by something. By fear or anger or lust rather than love. And- I mean I don’t mind it. I like our sex.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes at himself. “I don’t know I just saw how they looked at each other today. And the awkward way that they communicated. Being coy and innocent and flirty. It was kind of cute. Made me realize I’ve never had anyone look at me like that.”
Jerome nodded as he listened. He was getting better at that as time passed. He was easily bored and antsy, but spending time with Harley seemed to ease him in some way. Just enough that the two could hold out a surprisingly functional relationship. It was why Harley spoke so honestly now- there were no more secrets between them.
Jerome tugged the book and writing utensils out of Harley’s hands, setting them on the ground before pushing him down on the couch. “Is that what you want?”
Well that wasn’t expected. “Do I want someone else? Of course not.”
“No,” Jerome corrected. His hand rose to stroke Harley’s neck. The boy shivered. “Do you want me to be gentle?”
“I-“ Yet again Jerome had somehow surprised him. “Why?”
Jerome shrugged. “You deserve the world, my dear. If you want someone to look at you like those idiots in those sappy movies, I’ll do it at least once. My motto is that you have to try everything at least once to see if you like it. It’s how I figured out I like men.”
That made Harley chuckle. He touched Jerome lovingly, humming in thought. “You don’t have to change for me, J.”
“I know.” His hips dipped and he grinded into Harley. The boy beneath him gasped, his lips parting and his head pressing into the couch as his grip fighting in Jerome’s arm and shoulder. “Do you want me to do it or not? Just so you know.”
Taking a second to regain his breath, Harley nodded. “Just as long as you’re in charge.”
Jerome grinned. “Good, because tonight I’m in the mood to make you feel really good.”
-
Male reader tag List: @sheepfather
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rory-for-short · 3 years
Text
We are not our Parents| Part Six
Chandeliers and Secrets
Richard Grayson had cleaned up nicely. His hair a tad less wild, his aftershave on his face and neck making him smell like sandlewood, and the beautiful black wool suit had him looking like James Bond. He had added a deep purple tie and pocket square to match with Lucy. When he opened his door to meet her in the hallway, he watched nervously as she took him all in. He was like a daydreams she'd have about Superman as a kid, only better. She forgot how to breath for a moment.
"Alright, take a picture, it'll last longer," He joked at his girlfriend's starry eyed gaze. Just then a voice that didn't belong to either of them chimed in.
"Brilliant idea, master Grayson, I was just readying the old Kodak," Alfred quipped holding up a proper photography grade camera in front of his face. "Remember the old prom pose is a classic."
The two started to pose in the most contrasting way, given their attire. Lucy threw one of her hands into a love sign, hand on her hips, head tilted and winking. Dick had his tongue stuck out at the Camara and was giving Lucy bunnie ears.
"Lovely," Alfred responded dryly to their hijinks. They giggled and headed to the front of the mannor, before being stopped by Alfred.
"Your father wanted me to inform you that the two of you will be sharing his limo," he informed. Dick froze up and turned to Alfred with a shoked and indignant look on his face. He looked like a child being told it was bed time, or that he couldn't have friends over.
"-And before you say anything I'll get the whole tantrum out of the way: no Tim and Conner don't have to, yes its unfair, life tends to be very unfair, put up with it for one night, you will live," Alfred directed before taking his leave. Lucy looked up at her boyfriend's face, he was stoic and tired looking. She knew his dad had, well, control issues from what she was told by him. She grabbed his arm lightly as to avoid making him jump or tense like he always did. She knew he was adopted. She wondered what happened to his boilogical parents, and if that’s why he always startled, but she wouldn't press or ask. He'd tell her when he was ready... until then it was her job to keep him comfortable.
"Well if it's any consolation, I aways wanted to meet Bruce Wayne," she smiled softy. It was the only soft smile from her he had ever seen. And it was for him.
When they reached the stairs and could see into the foyer, they could see Bruce adjusting his own tie in one of the antique mirrors. Connor was trying to fix his pocket square and Tim was fussing over his hair.
"Are you all ready to par-tayyy!?" Dick hyped as they neared the bottom of the stairs case.
"Yeet," Tim's equally hyped response echoed. Conner glared at him, and Grayson knew it was because he had a hard enough time without his brother being loud while he had super hearing. Bruce turned his attention from the mirror and to the couple that had just entered and Dick could feel his stomach in knots.
"Dad this is my girlfriend Lucy Fleck. Lucy, this is my dad," he managed the best he could with the tense interductions. Lucy immediately stuck her hand out at an accute angle, fingers splayed from eachother, limp wristed, and grin wild. It was a gesture they had all seen before. She was waiting for a hand shake, but the way she looked. The way she moved. It was hard to explain, but her interduction body language screamed "Joker making a deal."
"Hiya, Mr. Wayne, its a pleasure to meet'cha," she declared. Dick relized at that moment that just because he was use to her Lucy-izims, didn't mean anyone else was. The purple probably wasn't helping their case. If Bruce noticed, he made no indication that it bothered him. He shook her hand and returned the sentiment. Tim and Connor were headed out the door already, happy with the distraction. They were probably planning on going in a different car then them. Which was smart. Dick knew he was about to hate this car-ride to the benefit.
Lucy was funny. What started with normal introductions and small talk turned into an anti~joke off in the back of the limo, with Bruce doing little to hide how amusing he found their stupid humor.
“Okay, what do you call a cow with no legs?” Lucy prompted.
“Ground beef,” Grayson said rolling his eyes.
“No, actually it doesn’t matter what you call him, he won’t be able to come to you anyway,” she laughed.
“Oh. My. God” Graysons eyes went wide but laughed despite himself. Bruce chimed in.
“Here’s one. What do you get when you cross a chicken and a hog” Bruce started.
“I don’t know, what?” Lucy answered.
“A media frenzy on the ethics of making hybrid animals.”
There was a beat of silence followed by sudden complete laughter from the two twenty somethings. That’s pretty much how the entire ride went. Just the three of them telling their best bad jokes. The laughter did everything to ease the tension an the limo was outside the banquet hall in no time. Dick had gotten out from his side to let Lucy out. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as he opened her door and took her hand in his. The blinding lights of the press, the loud chatter surrounding them; it was like a red carpet event, but sad and depressing because it was outside the sad gothic erection of the Gotham City Hall. She instinctively shielded her eyes as she stood beside her boyfriend and his father, who were able to inhumanly smile with clear eyes despite the visual assault. She hooked arms with Dick and he grabbed the hand she was shielding the lights with gently and walked slightly in front of her to help protect her eyes. She could hear the reporters asking a million questions.
“Mr. Wayne, is it true you are partnering with the Metropolis press and if so, don’t you think it is rather unethical for billionaires to have control of the media?”
“Richard Wayne, is it true that you use to be an acrobat.”
“Mr. Wayne, what are your thoughts on the current emphasis for planetary spending and is that something you are considering?”
“Richard Wayne, is that your new partner, or are we just having fun with a friend tonight?”
Bruce had actually stopped to answer the ones directed at him which, gave Lucy and is son the chance to hurry into the opulent building. They dashed in and took in the architecture. White marble floors that transitioned into mahogany carpeting. The banquet hall was lit with small chandeliers rather than one large one. Lucy felt a little ill at that reminder. There was chatter in the hall and a small wooden podium. As they passed people chattering, Lucy couldn’t help but feel their eyes on her. She glanced around nervously. Sometimes she’d catch eyes with someone and they’d look away.
‘Don’t be paranoid’ she thought to herself, ‘they are sizing you up because of the man on your arm being a billionaires son and well known batchlor. No other reason’. Dick must have noticed her tight grip on his arm. He turned to murmur to her,
“I know I didn’t say it earlier with Bruce and Alfred around, but you look magnificent,” he smiled at her.
“Really?” She whispered with a grin.
“Truly. I don’t know a lot of things, but I know a work of art when I see one,” he smirked. She blushed and pushed his arm with a roll of her eyes. Their beautiful moment was quickly interrupted.
“Richard Wayne, you and your lovely date are seated over here,” the waiter gestured. He let them to an empty table that could comfortably fit about 10 people at it. It was covered with a lush white table cloth and had cards with their names for seating. Dick noticed he had his full name and Lucy had “L.F.” on her card. Say what you will about Bruce, but he’s always been a pro at hiding identities, and they were both grateful for it. As they sat in their seats, Lucy’s expression was strange and contemplative.
“Nickel for your thoughts,” Dick prompted.
“I thought it was penny?”
“It is but as a billionaire my thought taxes are higher.”
She laughed and gave a small shrug before looking into his eyes with a guilty look.
“ Your dad knows who I am, doesn’t he?” It was more of a statement then a question. Dick was caught off guard, for once. He didn’t really think too much about it until then, but if he was in her position, he realized how crushing that would feel. For your partners parents to know the darkest secrets of your past. As her eyes still bore into him, he carefully answered best he could.
“ I mean, I had to warn him before hand, just to make sure we did everything we could to keep you safe. As much as you deserve a spotlight, I know you wanted to lay low,” he carefully explained. She smiled.
“So when he found out... was he mad?” she asked sheepishly. Dick hesitated in his response weighing what to say. It was all a lie. Bruce had told HIM. But he couldn’t really say “Batman, my adoptive father, told me and had me wear a wire to a date to make sure you weren’t in cahoots with your recently escaped convict dad that ruined your life. You know. The night we hooked up”. And he felt vile realizing one day he might have to confront her with this and potentially loose her. He felt more vile fore thinking about how the truth effected him before her. But for now, the goal was to have an easy night where she had fun. Oh boy, he was going to have to get his therapist to sign an NDA.
“He wasn’t mad, just concerned. For us mostly. In the public eye, and he said it’s selfish of me to put you in it after all you went through,” and that much was true. Lucy visibly relaxed. She then leaned in closer and talked a little more hushed.
“Hey, do you know what happened to the original chandelier in here?” She asked pointing to a risen spot in the ceiling where it use to hang from. He knew. He was there, he said nothing and continued looking at her for her explanation.
“My mom and dad tried to drop it on a table that had two prime ministers and the commissioner seated at it. Batman managed to figure it out but not before the chain was undone by D-, er, Joker. According to the police report he held the chain and kept it suspended long enough for everyone below it to scatter. Can you imagine? Holding 350 pounds of diamonds from crushing people?” She explained with her wild eyes. He could though. He had his hands wrapped around her mother's neck when it happened.
“Why are you telling me this?” He asked nervously.
“So you know what you are up against. Everyone in here knows that story. If they ever find out I’m, yah know, me, they will look at you the same way you looked at me just now. Weary, and uncomfortable,” she stated dryly.
“My dad hit Superman with his car one time,” he retorted. This caused Lucy to give him a baffled look. “Oh I’m sorry, I thought we were telling pointless stories about our parents that don’t effect either party in anyway,” he quipped with his signature disarming smile. She rolled her eyes and smiled.
“Babe, I’m serious!” She giggled. Just then the waiter brought another two over to the table. The Kents. Louis and Clark to be exact. Wait, Dick just now got that. The were seated somewhat across from them.
“Hey sport,” Clark greeted his coworker’s son. Louise gave a little wave. “I see you have a friend with you for once, decided that the sad loner thing looked better on your dad?” He joked. Grayson genuinely laughed. He got along well with Superman, because he had a tendency to call out Bruce. A lot. Every time there was a justice league dispute, he secretly sided with Clark. Sometimes because he truly agreed. Sometimes just because he could.
“Lucy, these are my Dad’s friends, Clark and Louis. They work for the daily planet,” he explained.
Lucy noted the classically beautiful woman, and the attractive man. Not anything compared to Dick though. He looked a little dorkier than her Adonis of a boyfriend. Then again, her rose colored glasses made everything about Richard Grayson much better than everyone else.
“Nice to meet you two,” she announced.
That’s how the majority of the banquet went on. Some of his dad's business associates, some of his side business associates, introductions, surface level conversations, and food. Dick noticed that Connor and him were seated elsewhere. He was sure Tim felt fortunate that he didn’t have to sit with Connor’s father. Bruce had yet to be seated. He was up and working the room. Shaking hands. Smiling. It was strange how fake it seemed. Sometimes he couldn’t tell witch was the real Bruce. And given his own struggles to understand which of his alter egos he truly was, he guessed that Bruce didn’t know either.
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ms-demeanor · 4 years
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After reading your "ultra-long postivity post", now I have kind of a weird feeling because i relate a lot to pretty much everything you said, but i ended up approaching the "not everyone can x" from the opposite side, being the "gifted kid" teachers used to hold everyone to unrealistic standards (that i knew most couldnt achieve in the given timeframes), and now i get frustrated when i dont develop skills immediately, because i have done it before and feel like i should be able to and aaaaaaaaaa
Funny story: when I was a kid my parents had both my sister and I tested for learning and developmental disabilities. This testing included IQ testing.
It identified that we were both “gifted” kids* and that I’m dyslexic.
It totally missed my ADHD, though!
The problem with that is that my parents. Hm.
Okay my parents both grew up in very poor families. VERY poor. And they both wanted to go to college and knew the only way that they could was through scholarships. So they became debaters. They met at a tournament in high school.
Debaters are weird. You need an efficient working memory and strong recall and the ability to think quickly on your feet. Being witty and kind of an asshole are also good traits for debaters. Basically you’ve either gotta be really fuck-off smart to be a competitive debater or you’ve gotta at least *seem* really fuck-off smart.
And my parents were champion debaters at a national level. The Whittier College debate trophy has my mom’s name written directly under Richard goddamn Nixon. My dad was on the USC debate team and competed against Harvard and won. Not only that but he ended up coaching debate for USC and Cal Tech.
So as kids who grew up in extremely poor families and were able to go to college and get middle-class jobs and buy a house because of intellectual ability my parents placed A LOT of importance on intellectual ability.
So that IQ score became a large part of my life.
First we attacked the dyslexia. The approach was basically teaching me a bunch of sight words because sounding out phonics doesn’t work when the letters get screwed up. And because I was *gifted* we did a lot of really BIG sight words.
It took about six months to get me up to speed from “memorizing the pages of a story to match the pictures because I couldn’t read along in class” to “the first book I read on my own was The Hobbit.” I guess that counted as “cured” because that was the last time I got any kind of educational assistance.
At that time I was at a gifted school, a really tiny private school that was also an after-school daycare where we did full-day classes and then did gymnastics and swim from 3-6pm. I also was there over the summer because my parents worked.
So going from “tiny private school where the teacher has you stand up in class to read your failing grade in front of everyone so that she could shame you into performing better” to “fine public school in a suburb wealthy enough to have arts programs” was a major, major change. They did an aptitude test because I was transferring in from a different district and there was much discussion about whether or not to move me directly from the second to the sixth grade.
The district refused, thank fuck.
The public elementary school didn’t *have* a gifted program so it took very little time for me to become the Certified Weird Kid. My third grade teacher had me read aloud to our class for twenty minutes a day. I taught the class the multiplication table.
When it got to be time to go to the junior high school my mom went to a meeting for the school’s gifted kids program. APPARENTLY one of the kid’s dad’s basically said “I don’t understand why you’re wasting school funds on field trips for the stupid kids, the school should spend more of its resources on kids who have a chance of actually meaning something to the world” and my mom decided that while being gifted was important it was less important than making sure I wasn’t exposed to assholes of that caliber on a regular basis.
(thanks mom, I actually do really appreciate that reprieve)
Several teachers pushed me into advanced classes - my math teacher insisted that I take the advanced algebra classes in the seventh and eighth grade.
The GATE kids *WERE* assholes and were extra bonus special assholes to me because math was the only advanced class that I was in. (At my junior high school you had to pick your elective based on what level of classes you were in - to take the GATE classes you HAD to take a music elective; if you took art, drama, shop, or home ec you couldn’t take the smart kid classes. The algebra class was a new, separate addition to the program so *some* of the kids in the “electives for dropouts” program could take algebra. Schools are really fucked up, guys, in case you didn’t know schools are really fucked up and that was BEFORE No Child Left Behind).
I got a C in that algebra class and sat in my room for literally an hour screaming at myself for being such a selfish, distracted idiot that I let myself read my books instead of studying harder for the class. (clearly very healthy, normal twelve-year-old behavior)
When it was time to go to high school my teachers made a united plea to the district to transfer me into honors/IB/AP classes.
The kids in the honors/IB/AP classes continued to be kind of awful to me. I got extremely depressed and basically started doing the lazy-but-brilliant thing of completely ignoring homework or in-class work but performing spectacularly well on tests or essays in the classes that I wasn’t catastrophically failing
I was the only person at the school who got a perfect score on the vocab part of my SAT. I was the only honors kid who hadn’t been in SAT prep classes. There was only one other kid who graduated with the same number of units as I had, we’d outstripped the valedictorian and salutatorian but three classes each. I only applied to one college - I got accepted for painting but my interviewer urged me to move to the writing program and I got accepted for that too.
My financial aid didn’t come through and my dad wasn’t willing to cosign for loans on “an art program at a trade school.”
I got accepted to Pratt Institute on their Writing for Publication track which included an internship with the New York Times for third-year students in the program.
At that point I had a Columbia Scholastic Press award for my work on my high school yearbook.
Let me tell you, the community college that I went to and spent five years variously failing and succeeding at had a fucking *killer* newspaper and magazine when I was there. The local community newspaper that hired me when I was 21 was also much better designed and edited than it had any right to be for the three years I worked there (getting paid a whole eight dollars an hour and sometimes working 20 hours straight to get it in to the printer on time).
When I transferred to the state school I got perfect grades and worked full time and won every contest offered by the school’s English Honors society (which I couldn’t join because I was a transfer student and hadn’t done honors classes my freshman and sophomore years). I started a literary magazine with some friends when I graduated; we published four full issues online before it fell apart.
You know what’s also funny?
Even the food-service job I had to pay my way though the community college I felt terrible about attending was a skills test. I was a barista, so of course for a while I was a competitive barista.
I disappointed my parents a lot. I heard a lot of “we know you’re better than this.” I got told I was too smart to be screwing up this bad. I mentioned it a couple weeks ago but my results from that IQ test got compared to my sister’s and that was the justification for holding me to a higher standard. “You’re measurably brilliant, why aren’t you acting like it?”
Here lies the corpse of a gifted kid. Look on my works ye might and despair.
I am the perfect picture of a twice exceptional gifted kid and the reason I wrote all of this out is to tell you one thing:
“Gifted Kid” is a label that someone applied to you, it has nothing to do with who and what you ARE.
It’s very, very unfair that the adults in your life used you that way. I have an exceptionally terrible memory of being singled out as the only one who passed the first test in my IB World History class; “Why is Alli the only one of all of you who is writing at grade level? You’re supposed to be the smartest kids in the school, why did you all fail?”
That’s awful for the kids around you, that’s awful for you. It doesn’t do anybody any favors if people around you are being informed that you’re setting the curve they’ll be judged against. And it really, really doesn’t do YOU any favors because it doesn’t take long *at all* for your brain to learn that that’s all you’re good for. If you aren’t the best at a thing then what’s the point, you HAVE to be best because they already SAID you were best and if you aren’t then all these other people hate you for setting a standard that even you can’t keep up with.
You end up competing with past versions of yourself and focusing on those things that make the grownups in your life praise you because the grownups in your life has praised you in such a way that it’s turned all the other kids against you.
You know who bullied the fuck out of me? The kids I taught the times tables to, the kids I read to for half an hour a day.
Those kids were MEAN to me but the teacher who told me to read Boxcar Kids to the class after lunch everyday was NICE and she told me not to worry, they were just jealous and I should be proud of my gifts.
“Anon did this in three minutes. What’s taking the rest of you so long?” - what a terrible weight to put on a child. You’re right. Not everyone can do everything.
Fucking hell.
Adults what the everloving shit is wrong with us? Please don’t treat kids like that.
Okay.
Okay.
But here’s the other thing:
If there’s any time in your life that it’s easy to acquire skills with no apparent effort it’s when you’re a child surrounded by a support system that is engaged in making sure that you can acquire those skills.
It took three adults, two dictionaries, and several hours a day to teach me enough sight-words to throw me into “look at baby genius*” territory but from my perspective as a little kid I was just reading cool stories.
I spent four hours a day in the yearbook room and ditched and failed other classes so that I could work on the yearbook. I collected hundreds of magazines to get an eye for layout. But from my perspective as a teenager it was a fun activity that I did with the closest thing I had to friends.
I’m sure that there are some skills that you had a natural aptitude for, some things that came naturally. But I’m also sure that you didn’t learn those skills with no effort, it’s just that now as an adult with a life and other shit going on it takes more effort to learn to do things.
In all likelihood you weren’t a savant who did everything perfectly the first time you tried. It just seems that way because even really smart kids don’t know when they’re bad at things and are mostly being compared against other kids (with the few rare exceptions of music prodigies or math prodigies or those kids who end up in science grad programs at 12 and boy howdy do I think there’s a whole other can of worms when it comes to the way child prodigies* interact with the world).
You wanna know what probably saved my life in the last few years?
That “anti-capitalist love notes” tumblr post.
Tumblr media
You are worth more than your productivity.
You are worth more than your productivity.
You are worth more than your productivity.
I was actually kind of offended the first time I saw that post on my dash. “No I’m not,” I thought. “You’re only worth what you can do, everyone knows that. People care about what you do for them.”
And why the hell would I think anything else? That’s what I’d learned for pretty much my whole life.
It took me a really long time to understand that I was wrong. I matter outside of what I can do for people or how well I perform. I matter more than being able to perfectly recite poetry from memory or do calculations on command or sit down at a piano and play a piece I’ve never played by sight-reading it.
And you matter outside of that too. You’re more than your performance, you’re better than being gifted. There are people who love you for the way you make them laugh and how you listen to their stories and for the simple joy of your presence.
It’s nice to be clever, it’s handy in a lot of situations even if it does come with a lot of baggage for some people.
But god damn, it’s important to be kind.
* Personally I have issues with the way that society constructs the concepts of giftedness, genius, and prodigies. There are a lot of “gifted” kids who were the kids who scored in the top 5% of their class in school but there are also gifted kids who were doing high-level math or reading novels as toddlers; there are prodigies who showed an aptitude for music young and who were then schooled in that instrument to the exclusion of all other activities (and I bet there are a fair number of kids who might be considered prodigies if they were trained to play flute for nine hours a day and didn’t have friends but thankfully we don’t *do* that to very many people - side note, ask me my opinion about olympic athletes some time). Words like “genius” and “gifted” are very nearly meaningless and almost *never* accurately reflect skills proficiency or long-term success or are reflected in income or respect. People think that geniuses are hypercompetent robots with their shit together but literally every adult I know with a genius-level IQ is some variety or other of total fucking tire fire.
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roronoasanjii · 3 years
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I thought it was a shame to just leave this in a folder and never do anything with it so here’s an old Critical Role fic idea I came up with. It’s only written like notes but I still really like it.
Hope you enjoy!
Caleb is in the witness protection scheme. He killed his parents when he was younger (thirteen) and they sent him away and changed his name to protect him after he spent a couple of years in a mental health facility. He came out the other side of it feeling better than he did, but still majorly suffering from depression.
Caleb is an orphan, through his own doing, and none of his family wanted anything to do with him so he is now in foster care.
He has a deep British-German mix accent.
He attends the same high school as the gang, having being enrolled there when he left the mental health facility and came to live at the group home. He struggled to make friends out of fear of anyone knowing who he was, but he comes to be friends with a guy called Mollymauk in his classes who then further introduces him to the rest of the gang.
Caleb hasn't been fostered when we first meet him, he's still in a group home which he hates, and the gang notice this so they try as much as possible to keep Caleb away from there by inviting him out, or round to their houses.
At some point Caleb is fostered and the gang immediately notice that he seems different; he's barely said anything to any of them since they arrived at school. Molly is sent over to talk because they're not stupid; they know that Caleb seems to be at his calmest around Molly.
Caleb tells Molly what's happening and he offers reassurance, telling Caleb that at least this means he's going to get out of the group home
Caleb is fostered by a woman called Veth. At first glance, it's obvious that this woman is overly keen about the prospect of having a child, despite the fact that Caleb is anything but, now seventeen.
Caleb notices how out of touch with society Veth is, but not from her own doing. People look at her and judge heavily for reasons that he can't fathom, but it happens quite regularly.
He hears crying one night and tiptoes down the stairs to hear Veth talking in the kitchen quietly to herself. Caleb overhears her talking about a son and a husband, which he realises are the missing pieces in this house that should be there but aren't. It's also pretty clear that she's been on her own until she fostered Caleb.
Caleb isn't stupid. He sees the link between the clearly grieving broken mother who needs a replacement for the child she lost and him. Caleb believes there's nothing more to it which doesn't help him feel more at home, instead doing the exact opposite because he doesn't know who she wants him to be.
Veth tries her hardest and makes sure to try and allow Caleb to feel safe in the house, but he still struggles with the balance of it all and the sheer amount of changes in his life of late. Upon noticing this, Veth asks him if he's okay and manages to wriggle out of him the fact that he overheard her in the kitchen. She puts two and two together and correctly guesses that he thinks he's a replacement.
His accent slips, falling away in his fear.
"Luke was my child, and I love him... But you are not Luke."
Caleb feels like this is it, this is the moment when he gets sent back to the group home again, he's blown it already because he dared to even compare himself to Veth’s own flesh and blood son. Caleb kicks himself for being so stupid, but Veth isn't finished.
"I fostered you because you are a kind young man with a bright future ahead of him that just needed someone in his life who cared. You're not a replacement and you were never meant to be one. I don't want you to be Luke; I just want you to be Caleb."
Caleb nods and accepts a hug from Veth when she offers him one. She has noticed the change in accent.
"Is that German?"
"Yes." He clears his throat. "I'm uh, I'm German. My parents moved here when I was very young."
"So why where you doing that accent?"
"I think we're both a little scared of what people would say to us. I learnt quickly that children are unkind, the others at school would tease me and call me horrible names, and then my parents… passed away and I went into the system. No one wanted to foster some weird German kid, and I hated myself so I changed my accent trying to make myself a different person. I wanted to be anyone else but me, but I couldn't.”
Veth strokes a hand down his cheek and smiles.
"Like I said, I just want you to be Caleb. You can speak however you like here."
"It's just, strange, you know, after all this time."
"Well whatever you come to decide, it will sound lovely either way."
The two become closer after this.
Veth and Caleb do something together that he really ends up enjoying. Veth comments that it's the first time she's seen him smile, which only makes Caleb smile more, because it's true, he truly had a good time. But that only just makes Caleb head worse because now the thoughts come back about how he doesn't deserve to be happy because of what he did.
He starts to isolate himself which scares Veth, and he barely talks to her. She becomes more and more worried about him until she calls his social worker to ask for advice.
When Caleb returns home from school to see his social worker's car parked outside he immediately becomes panicked. Going inside confirms the sight of his social worker and that's when he immediately feels betrayed. He thought things were going well with Veth and he was seriously trying his hardest to make it all work but now she's abandoning him just like everyone else.
Caleb runs off, unaware of the actual reasoning behind the visit and Veth panics. Her and the social worker rush to try and find him, which Veth eventually does. He's covered in mud and soaked through when she comes across him, curled up under a tree and sobbing. She pulls him into a huge hug and she fusses about how he's silly for running away and how he could have gotten hurt, or pneumonia, or worse and Caleb feels so much guilt in that moment because he remembers their conversation about Luke.
Veth lost her husband and child in a way that left her feeling useless because how they died was out of her control. There's nothing she could have done to save them because she wasn't even there when it happened, she found out afterwards when they had already passed.
Caleb connects the dots to realise that a lot of Veth's responses to things he does probably stem from never wanting to lose someone ever again if she has a way of preventing it. So when he walks home in the dark, if anything happened to him she would always know that she could very easily have gone and picked him up if she'd known, or when he runs off without any warning that anything could happen to him and she wouldn't know before it was too late, exactly like Luke and her husband.
Veth tells him that there is nothing that would ever make her give him up. Ever. Caleb nods, feeling a little better, but ultimately knowing that if she knew the truth, she would get rid of him in a heartbeat. He makes a pact with himself to stop unintentionally giving Veth a heart attack by accepting her offers on things such as lifts because it clearly gives her peace of mind.
At one point the gang notice bandages or bracelets, or just a slip of Caleb’s sleeves that reveal scars on his arms. They immediately presume the worse and panic. They try talking to him about it which doesn't go well at all. Caleb leaves the school and walks all the way home in the rain in his big brown coat and scarf that Veth bought him - his most treasured possessions along with the books that she has gotten him too.
When Veth gets home she knows something is wrong and asks if Caleb wants to talk about it. Caleb declines but Veth sorta’ doubles down saying that she really needs to know because she's worried. In a moment of bravery, Caleb pulls up his sleeve to reveal the scars on his arm and rope marks on his wrist.
Caleb tells her that he didn't do this but then nicely asks her to not ask any more questions than that, which she reluctantly agrees. She then takes out her tablet and starts tapping away. When Caleb asks what she's doing, Veth is looking for ways in which he can cover them up because she can see how much they upset Caleb to look at. Caleb is overcome with a feeling of love due to how just genuinely lovely she is. He thinks he doesn't deserve her.
Veth tells Caleb, who's in his room feeling shitty, that she has a surprise for him. Caleb is curious as Veth pushes open the door a little more to reveal, a cat. Apparently Veth adopted her for Caleb, hoping she might help him when he's feeling down or upset.
Caleb falls head over fucking heels in love with this cat immediately, naming her Frumpkin for no particular reason other than he can. The two become practically inseparable.
On the anniversary of the murders there is a news report which plays on TV, Caleb is at somebody's house when it does and he just immediately panics because he hears everything and it makes him feel sick to the point where he sprints to the bathroom and pukes heavily and violently, breaking down in sobs. Molly comes to the bathroom to check on him and they talk, Caleb doesn't admit anything and Molly doesn't push him to, admitting that this can stay between them and the others don't have to know so they don't start questioning him.
Caleb goes home, stating not feeling well as his reason for leaving early. He walks back, which Veth once again tells him off for, pointing out that its black dark outside and anything could've happened to him. She rants at him in a mother-henning way for a couple of minutes before taking a breath and pulling him into a hug. That's when Caleb breaks down in apologies, begging Veth not to get rid of him.
Veth cements the fact that she will never do that, but states that she thinks it's time that he tells her what's really going on in that head of his. Caleb tells her that he can't, but as she progressively looks more and more hurt by feeling like a bad parent and shut out by him, Caleb eventually caves.
"My name was Bren Aldric Ermendrud."
Caleb tells her about how they put him in a mental health facility for a few years, and the older woman helped him. This woman asked Caleb what he was in for and in his absolute lowest state, tells her the truth of what happened, admitting that he was groomed to do it by a man named Trent Ikithon who lied to him about so many things. The woman, being the first and only person he has ever opened to about it, tells Caleb that he was only young when it happened, and that it wasn’t his fault. Yes he may have committed the act, but he wasn't in the right headspace, and was made to do it by an adult. This led to Caleb feeling a little better for the first time and her encouragement for him to accept therapy didn't fall on deaf ears with Caleb doing exactly that meaning that he ended up being discharged early.
Caleb tells Veth everything and feels sick once again after doing so, not able to look her in the eye. There is silence in the living room of the house for a painful amount of time before Veth just smushes him into an absolutely enormous hug and tells him firmly that the woman in the facility was right, it wasn't his fault, and that the true blame lies in the hands of Trent.
Veth puts two and two together with the scars, which Caleb admits is true, Trent did that to him. She asks him what he’d like to be called, and he states that he still wishes to be known as Caleb
After this, the two only become stronger, their bond growing as does their protectiveness of one-another.
Caleb and Molly's relationship grows too as they become strong friends, Molly looking out for him on days when he really needed a friend. All is going well until Caleb arrives at school one morning to a tense, horrible atmosphere.
There are a lot of tearful looking eyes and sad faces. Caleb, confused and worried finds the gang to ask what's going over. He notices Molly's older brother, Caduceus from the year above.
"What happened?"
Jester deflates as she sighs, wordlessly pulls him into a hug. As he pulls away, Caleb notices the ostentatious missing member of their group.
"Where's Molly?"
Caduceus scrubs a shaky hand down his chin, clearing his throat.
"He uh… he died. Last night."
Caleb's breath catches in his throat as his hand flies to his mouth, shaking his head as tears come to his eyes.
"No…"
Caduceus pulls him close and hugs him, getting emotional himself.
"Everything was normal and ordinary until it wasn't. Molly coughed up blood, Mom took him to the hospital… and an hour later he was dead... just like that." Caduceus takes a breath to compose himself, clearing his throat once again. "Our Aunt is planning a memorial service, you guys are all invited. You don't have to do speeches and all that if you don't want to but the choice is yours. You know Molly; he would've loved all this fuss. No doubt he would have applauded the pageantry of it all."
"Oh." Caleb opens his satchel and takes out the large notebook Veth bought him. From the mess of papers and coursework handouts in the back he flicks through them until he arrives at a purple coloured sheet. "Here."
Caduceus takes the piece of paper, unfolding it.
"It's Molly's favourite poem, he uh, he wrote it out for me in English class because he said I was uncultured for having never experienced Yeats."
"Thanks, this is perfect for the memorial. Are you sure you don't want to keep this?"
"If you want it you can have it. If not, you can give it back to me at the end of the service, I don't mind which."
Caleb is unsurprisingly quiet after Molly's death. Veth looks after him, so does Frumpkin, the ginger tabby having become accustomed to lying across Caleb's shoulders, tail hanging down over his chest.
As if she knew of his sadness, Frumpkin made sure to stay close, never leaving Caleb's sight when she felt he might need her.
The gang all attend the memorial. It is held in the local park Molly loved. A thin layer of snow had fallen that morning providing a beautiful backdrop. Beside the purple flower beds, a large tree branch had been stabbed into the ground, Molly's eccentric coat draped over it, blowing gently in the wind.
Caleb doesn't make a speech and he feels like a traitor for not being able to man enough to do it, but he feels a hand reach close and take hold of his own with a gentle squeeze. Beau. She had been a godsend in the past week or so since Molly's death.
Despite the fact that they famously didn't really seem to ever get on at high school, Beau had gone above and beyond to make sure he was okay, offering him someone to talk to, and being there for him when he just needed to let it all out.
After the memorial, Caleb struggles with both the finality of saying goodbye to Molly and the sight of the flames from the barbecue set up to serve food, the scent causing him to gag a little as he walks off through the park to the tree Molly used to read beside. Caduceus follows him over.
"You doing okay, Mr. Caleb?"
"Why do you call me that?"
"I don't know. You've always been quite an enigma so it seemed fitting, plus, I know irritates you so there's that too." Caduceus answered with a smirk before offering a soft smile. "Molly wouldn't want you to be crying. Try and think about all the good times rather than the bad, that's how he'd want you to remember him."
"I know it is, it's just…"
"It's hard I know, but you're not alone in this, you have people who care about you, myself included. Don't think that you can't talk."
"Thanks, Cad."
He nods, clapping Caleb on the shoulder.
"Oh, I almost forgot." Caduceus reaches into his pocket and hands the contents to Caleb.
"What's this?"
"A letter from Molly and his tarot cards, he wanted you to have them. He was always talking about you being a little lost, maybe they just might help. I don't know... Molly was into this bullshit more than I was.” Caduceus smirks before walking back over to the other guests.
 Caleb takes a breath before opening the small folded piece of paper clearly from a hospital notepad. Clearing his throat he begins to read.
'Hey Cay,
I'm stuck in here puking my guts up and something tells me that it's not looking good for me. Fucking cards.
I haven't got much paper so be prepared for tiny handwriting, I'm sure you'll manage.
Anyway, the first thing I wanna say is, you're cute, and if I wasn't slowly internally bleeding to death then there's no doubt I wouldn't have tried wooing you eventually.
Second, stop being so afraid of everything and live your fucking life dude. It's feeling more and more like you're gonna' have to live it for the both of us so get out there and do shit. Kiss a girl, kiss a boy, tell Veth how much she means to you, get yourself adopted, accept more invites from the gang, get some therapy for that old noggin of yours, I don't know, just promise me you'll not block everyone out. That's what worries me most about potentially dying, you not going to the others for help because I'm not there anymore to come to you. Please, don't be alone.
I hope someday we'll meet each other again.
Take care of my brother for me.
Love,
Molly x'
Emotionally wrecked after the memorial and reading Molly's letter, Caleb actually calls Veth to get a lift home for once rather than just walking. Weirdly though, he doesn't get an answer, the phone just ringing and ringing. Finding that strange, Caleb grabs a ride from Fjord and Jester.
When he walks in, the light is on in the kitchen and Veth is sitting at the table holding a bag of peas to her face, one arm huddled proactively to her chest.
Caleb enters to see her covered in bruises, anger flaring immediately.
"Who did this?" He asks low and furious.
"Caleb, I'm fine."
"You're not fine, you're hurt. Someone did this to you and you need to tell me who that person is."
“It's just a bump."
“It's more than a bump! People treat you like you're below them and I hate it. They stare, they judge, they whisper shit, it's vile! You shouldn't have to deal with that.”
“That's my concern, not yours.”
“Why are you so calm about this, someone nearly broke your fucking arm. Get mad about this, get angry.”
“And what would that achieve?”
“I don't know, more than just sitting around waiting for the next person to hurt you.” He shouts before scrubbing a hand down his face, keeping his hand over his mouth as he shakes. “I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, I shouted and I didn't mean to… I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” His weak tone whimpers as he drops down to one of the seats around the table and cries.
“Caleb, it's okay.”
“It's not okay. Nothing is okay, everything's just shit and it makes me so angry sometimes, and it scares me. I don't want to be that person.”
Veth stands up from the table and walks round to Caleb, wrapping her good arm around him in a hug, gently resting her chin on the top of his head.
“What you are, is a sweet boy who cares about everyone and never wants to see anyone he loves hurt. That is a blessing not a curse. You have a big heart, Caleb, and that's a beautiful thing.”
After this point, Caleb stands up for Veth a lot more in situations where people are being awful towards her.
When one of Veth's brothers, Morrell visits, he patronisingly talks about how it's good that she now has Caleb to look after her.
"You know, Nottie, if you feel safer having Caleb protecting you, maybe you could start doing more, rather than just alternating between work and being in the house all day."
"I think there's a bit of misconception here. Caleb and I have a very special relationship. It is that of a parent and a child, regardless of the fact that he isn't technically mine. But I am the parent in this situation. It's my job to protect him. He's my boy, and I keep him safe. I want him to thrive, and get better at school, and grow into the wonderful young man I know he's going to be, because he can achieve great things.’ She takes a breath. ‘When I fostered him he was a scared little boy who was afraid to speak up out of fear of being hurt, and tried to act invisible in case one wrong move landed him back at the group home. As we have gotten more comfortable, he has gotten more comfortable and come out of his shell. It's my job to protect him, because I love him, and I am his parent. It is not his job to protect me."
Morrell nods.
"I'll admit; I had the wrong idea about the two of you. Caleb sounds like a good kid."
"He is." Veth nods. "He's going to be a great man someday."
"He will."
"Does he know that you think of him as a son?"
Veth shakes her head.
"Maybe you should let him know, it might make him feel a little better, especially after everything that's happened recently, he needs you more than ever."
"I'll talk to him."
Before she has the chance to do so, Caleb’s world gets shattered once again.
Caleb is looking around the house for Frumpkin. Unable to find him he goes outside to hear a pained meow from just beyond the driveway. There lies Frumpkin, who has clearly been hit by a car that hasn’t even stopped to check to see if she was okay.
Caleb panics at this point, bundling Frumpkin into his arms and grabbing his phone. He knows Veth is at work so he calls Fjord and Jester instead begging for their help. Jester stays on the phone with him to try and reassure him and keep him calm while the two of them drive over, pick Caleb up, and take him to the vets where they try and save her.
Long story short, the vets won’t operate on Frumpkin unless they are paid upfront for the medical costs, its company policy no matter how much they want to help the cat. The amount of money they would need is beyond substantial, and it’s money that a fucking orphaned foster kid like Caleb just doesn’t have, and he knows Veth doesn’t have it either so he refuses to ask, knowing that she’s already done too much for him anyway by just having to deal with his shit in the first place.
While Caleb is being comforted by Jester, Fjord discreetly calls Veth from Caleb’s phone (which he got Jester to sneakily swipe), and tells her what is happening. She rushes down to the vets to find Caleb in the back room of the vets sitting on top of the doctor’s table with Frumpkin curled up on his lap, hugging her gently.
Hating to see her boy so broken, she goes back to the vets in the lobby and begs them to accept a smaller down payment, even saying they can charge interest on the other payments too if they have to. The head vet, who seems to be the owner agrees and Veth partially pays.
A confused Caleb is practically dragged kicking and screaming from the backroom, desperate to be with Frumpkin, and Veth manages to get him calmed down, telling him that they’re going to try and save Frumpkin.
"What? But… how?"
"I paid them."
Caleb looks torn.
"No, you shouldn’t… you shouldn’t have done that, you don’t have the money and I can’t ask you to do that for me. It’s just a cat, I can get another one."
But Veth knows that’s not true. Caleb is too infatuated with that cat to ever think that way, he’s just trying to not take up space, something he has a history of being very good at.
"Frumpkin is your friend, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her with us. Fuck the money, I can think of no better use for it then saving family."
Caleb looks stunned in that moment, wide eyed and astonished as he wordlessly wraps his arms tight around Veth.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you."
The vets manage to save Frumpkin and if he wasn’t already, Caleb becomes even more protective of her, making sure she’s okay after all her surgeries. When they’re allowed to take her home, Caleb is soft and kind with her, not letting her out of his sight.
On a lovely sunny day, Caleb decides that Frumpkin needs some fresh air. With the stitches gone and her feeling a lot better, they take a walk together slowly round the neighbourhood. Veth wasn't home when they left but there was a note from her on the counter saying that she would be back soon.
As they walk past the church, Caleb notices Veth knelt down beside a small grave in the graveyard with a book open on her lap. He debates on whether to just keep walking and let her have her privacy, but ultimately decides that she might someone with her.
As he approaches, Veth notices the two of them and smiles.
The grave is marked:
‘In loving memory of Luke Brenatto’
Caleb notices the lack of her husband's name.
"If it's none of my business just tell me to shut up, but why isn't your husband’s name on here too?"
Veth looks a little confused at first before she understands why Caleb would think the way he does.
"When Luke and Yeza were involved in that accident, neither were expected to live. It took a long time for the paramedics to arrive and even longer to get them out. Luke… he didn't make it, but they managed to get Yeza stabilised. The man I spoke to in that hospital wasn't my husband. He was cold as if a part of him had died with Luke, and it probably had. Yeza packed up and left after Luke's funeral and I've never heard from him since."
"That's awful."
"People deal with loss in different ways. Some grieve a little, some grieve a lot, and some just never get over it at all. Yeza was one of those people." Veth turns to look at the gravesite which has fresh flowers beside it as well as a weathered toy bear and various tealights in brightly coloured holders. "Every so often I come out here and I read to him. I know that probably sounds weird but it helps."
Caleb shakes his head.
"No, it doesn't sound weird at all, I'm sure Luke loves it, wherever he is."
The social worker visits go well every time until the all-important one approaches, the meeting about what Caleb is going to do once he turns eighteen and becomes a ward of the state, free to leave the system and live on his own independently.
Caleb truthfully admits that he doesn't know what he's going to do, and that he hasn't put much thought into it. This is when Veth offers him another option. She wants to adopt him.
Caleb doesn't know how to react and looks terrified, mostly out of fear of her changing her mind, which leads to Veth once again reiterating the point that she loves him as her own and would never ever give him up. Caleb is her son through and through, and that she wants to make it official.
Caleb accepts and the paperwork is completed for the adoption to become official.
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