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builder051 · 5 years

Note

It just snowed again here lol so I feel the cold. Could you do a fic where Jason gets locked out of the apartment/apartment building (my apartment building has doors outside that you go through and if you don’t have the key you’re fucked) and Colby finds him? Maybe hypothermia for Jason?

The first day of the new semester is dedicated to working out kinks. Jason knows that. He doesn’t expect to receive any homework as he waltzes around campus, every class releasing early after a casual overview of the syllabus.

One benefit of being a halfway through his junior year is the lighter schedule. He’s only on campus twice a week now, but, as he’s quickly learning, the aforementioned lightness is subjective. Tuesdays and Thursdays have him running from seminar to lecture to lab from 8 in the morning to 5 at night. And those are start times. It’s well past 7 when he finally trudges back to his car to drive home.

“Flop day, my ass,” Jason mutters, turning on the radio and scanning until he finds something that isn’t a commercial. He’d been irrationally proud of himself this morning, learning before the school day even commenced. When I’m a teacher, he’d written across the top of the first page of a fresh spiral notebook, don’t start coursework on first day. Set expectations. Expect schedule changes. Then he’d missed the professor’s introduction because he was too busy beating himself up over the two iterations of the word “expect” so close together.

Jason can’t believe how tired he is. Some of it is misinformation, his brain attempting to process his surroundings and doing it badly. It’s barely past the dinner hour, but dark enough to be midnight. He may not have any reading to do when he gets home, but he’s still been gone for more than 8 hours. Exhaustion is a natural response, even if it isn’t helpful or expected.

A flutter of panic runs through his stomach as he thinks of what’s in store for him tomorrow. He’s starting his first run of student teaching, meeting his mentor and the principal of the local high school bright and early tomorrow morning. Will he be able to get enough sleep? It’s so late…

No, he reminds himself. It’s not. The car clock says it’s 7:26. Twelve hours before he has to be somewhere again. Twelve hours, what a relief. Or should he be thinking only 12 hours? Is that really enough time? Does he have a shirt to wear that isn’t horribly wrinkled? There’s enough time to iron, isn’t there? Do they even have an iron?

And so it goes. For almost half an hour. Traffic is stop-and-go, a mix of late commuters and folks on their way to and from the smattering of restaurants ringing the campus. Jason thinks about stopping to pick up something to eat, but he lacks the motivation to even pull into a drive-thru. He’ll have to watch that. make sure it doesn’t become a habit.

Eventually Jason reaches the parking lot of the apartment complex. He pulls his Corolla besides Mike’s frosty Rav-4, proof that she’s been home for hours already. If only he could count on her to cook dinner. He laughs to himself, wishing Colby was the one who got off mid-afternoon. But alas, his partner is stuck in the awkward phase of proving himself and working long shifts in between the holiday and regular retail seasons, while his stubborn sister is inside, probably reading with headphones on and oblivious to Jason’s imminent arrival. Jason shakes his head. At least Mike doesn’t take up much space.

He slings his bag over his shoulder and runs toward the building, skidding slightly on the ice around the edges of the lot. He swipes the RFID fob on his keyring across the sensor situated on the other side of the glass door. Jason doesn’t hear the requisite beep, but he assumes his chattering teeth have just drowned out the soft sound. He hadn’t thought he’d need gloves and a hat when the only time he’d be spending outside would be spent walking briskly, but he wishes he had them now. He reaches for the door handle and yanks, but it stays resolutely shut.

“The hell?” Jason mutters. He swipes his keyring again, listening closely. Again he hears only silence. “Hm.” He cups his hands around his eyes like binoculars and looks through the glass, trying to find the source of the problem. It’s hard to see in the dark, but the kiosk with the sensor seems to be glowing with its usual pinprick of orange light.

Jason swipes a third time, looking and listening this time. Still nothing. He gives the door a good smack with the pinky side of his fist. The warm brightness shakes, and the jagged edges of something papery tremble into existence. A leaf or a gum wrapper or something, trapped between the glass and the sensor, perfectly positioned to interrupt whatever invisible means the key fob uses to communicate with the kiosk.

“Ugh. Fuck.” Jason smacks the door again, then stupidly pulls on the handle. Hitting it won’t unlock it, he knows. But the situation is frustrating. Jason looses a few more choice words, then slowly pulls in a deep breath. He blows out a cloud of steam.

There is a simple solution, though it’s mortifying. Jason digs in his pocket for his phone to call Mike and ask to be let in. He feels like a dog scratching at the door. He taps his phone’s dark screen, but nothing happens. At first he wonders if his mind is playing tricks again, since the door just pulled the same one, but then the realization hits him and his stomach turns to a bucket of ice. He ran out of battery before stepping into his last class.

It’s his own fault for leaving his headphones plugged in with Pandora streaming for an entire class period. Jason tells himself he’ll carry a charger with him at all times from now on, but it does nothing to fix the current problem. “God fucking dammit, Mike!” he yells, pacing back and forth in front of the door. “Decide to go check the mail or something!”

But she won’t. Jason knows she won’t. Mike is… lazy is the wrong word, but Jason’s shivering seems to be interrupting his thoughts with sharp spikes like those produced by a seismograph. Sparing. That’s more accurate. If something isn’t her problem, she’ won’t volunteer to make it her problem. Once she’s safely in the apartment for the night, there’s little chance Mike will step out of her bedroom, let alone the front door.

They originally chose this complex for its safety features, but now Jason hates them. The 10-foot brick wall surrounding the grid of row houses is too steep to scale, and if he tries, he’ll only mangle his fingers. He imagines drops of blood running down his palms and freezing before they hit the ground. Jason feels faintly nauseated. If he pukes, that will probably freeze, too. At least his stomach is empty.

He wonders vaguely how long it takes to starve to death. Then how long it takes to die of exposure. If he gets back in his car, he might be warmer, but he’ll have to run the engine to run the heater. Jason’s gas tank is rarely over half full, and today topping up was another activity on the list to do later. Plus, people are more likely to see him up here by the door. Someone will come in or out soon.

It’s still early. Right? Jason checks his watch. It’s almost 8. Time for… what do they watch on Tuesdays? He’s too cold. He can’t think. He bounces on the balls of his feet, vocalizing indistinctly and listening to his pitch change as it bounces off the glass and echoes back at him.

“What the hell are you doing?” a muffled voice asks.

Jason spins around to see a tall, slender figure, almost unrecognizable under a hat, scarf, and shabby parka.

“Ohmygod.” Jason feels faint with relief. He trips toward Colby, unintentionally tackling him and sending him ass-first onto the pavement.

“Whoa, ok.” Colby says, his voice halfway between amused and concerned. “Good to see you too.” He clasps Jason’s hands between his mittens. “What’cha doing out here? Besides trying to give me a concussion”

“Freezing to death,” Jason breathes, burying his nose in Colby’s shoulder.

“You lose your keys or something? Did you walk here?” Colby looks around wildly.

“No,” Jason says, trying to determine if it’s worth it to explain. His brain gets hung up halfway through. “Did you walk here?”

“Nah, Gil dropped me off halfway down the block,” Colby says. He uses his thumb to stroke Jason’s red nose. “Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend? Since when are you worried about me before you’re worried about you? Not that, like, that’s a bad thing. It’s just a ‘you’ thing.”

“Sheesh.” Jason tries to roll his eyes, but he feels faint again.

“Here, let’s go inside.” Colby starts to pull him up.

“No, you gotta, um, you gotta…” Jason can’t stop stuttering. “You gotta call Mike.”

“Why?” Colby looks at him like he’s gone nuts.

“Don’t ask. Long story.” It’s not actually that long, but Jason shakes his head anyway. “Just do it.”

“Ok?” Colby takes off one mitten and pulls his phone out of his coat pocket. “But I get the full explanation later, right?”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees without thinking. “But call her fast. I’m fucking cold.”

“You know, I would have never guessed,” Colby laughs as he dials and holds the device to his ear.

#oc fic #mike & co #mike deangeles #jason deangeles #colby carson #casa deangles-carson #colby and jason #sickfic #cold #hypothermia #hurt/comfort #angst

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sproutwings · 3 years

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WIP Nudge Game

@elasticella tagged me, so now I have to look at the mess that’s my WIP folder. OH NO! /o\ So, problem: there’s a bunch I can’t share anything about because they’re upcoming exchange assignments and therefore very hush-hush, and a lot of the rest... Well, let’s just say chances are high that they’re going to remain WIPs forever. D: But have at them anyway!

Send me the description and I'll add at least one sentence & share a bit about the fic.

The Flash:

Coldflash D/s

Coldwest(allen?) undercover

Coldwestallen time travel

Coldflash casual sex

Coldflash “Catch Me If You Can” part 4

Coldflash “The Biggest Score of All” sequel

Coldflash hallucination!Len

MCU: Steve/Rumlow “... But Your Enemies Closer” part 3

DCU: Dickstroke identity porn

Eye Candy:

Tommy/Bubonic, post-show working together

Tommy/Bubonic, chance encounter

Original Works: noncon gangbang sequel

Game of Thrones: Jaime/Dany political marriage (now-AU)

TVD: Elena/Klaus/Elijah sex magic

Suits: Mike/various 5 times fic

Tagging (as always, feel free to ignore :)) - @moriavis, @sophiainspace, @qlala, @nixie-deangel, @crestfallercanyon

#MEMEMEMEMEMEME #profession: writer (nonpracticing)

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fallenqueen2 · 4 years

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I was tagged by @takaraphoenix!

List which 5 TV shows make you feel better then tag 10 other blogs (this isn't in order or anything).

1. Mike & Molly

2. Yu Yu Hakusho [Especially the Saint Beasts Arc and the early fights in the Dark Tournament]

3. Mrs. Brown’s Boys

4. Supernatural [Season 1-5 because I’ve seen them a hundred times they are so soothing now lol]

5. Shaman King [Especially the arc where they are traveling to find Dobi Village as a small group, hijinks and fun adventures!]

@lat479 @hotforcaptaincold @stellecraft @ofstarlightandbows @nixie-deangel

#Mike & Molly #Yu Yu Hakusho #Mrs browns boys #supernatural #shaman king #tumblr tag list #get to know me #fallenqueen2

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illnesssecretsanta · 7 years

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Name/Tumblr url: Builder051 (https://builder051.tumblr.com/)

My name is Laura.

Character/s you would like to receive art/stories of:

Here is a link to my characters page:

https://builder051.tumblr.com/charactersandfandoms

I’m interested in seeing something with my characters Mike and Jason. Their details are on my characters page, but the short of it is that they are sister and brother (Mike is short for Michaela), attending college, and sharing an apartment. It’s their first time away from home, and they support each other and drive each other crazy. I headcanon that they decide not to go home for Christmas, but rather stay at their apartment near the Michigan State campus to spend a quieter holiday away from the parents and nearer to Jason’s boyfriend Colby, who also does not not have a good family relationship.

Here’s a link to my master story list if you’d like to see what I’ve written on these characters so far:

https://builder051.tumblr.com/masterstorylist

Do you prefer visual art or written gifts or is there no preference?:

Either is wonderful.

What would you like to receive:

A possible scenario I’ve thought about is the Deangeles-Carson household (Mike, Jason, and Colby) enjoying a quiet, cozy Christmas morning, then heading out to a park for an epic snowball fight. Per usual, Mike’s getting over the flu (regular/respiratory, not gastric), and she easily tires. Also per usual, she won’t admit she’s starting to feel unwell until she’s vomiting from over-exertion. Jason tries to offer comfort, and Mike’s a little bristly about it.

Feel absolutely free to choose one aspect of that, elaborate on it, or scrap it as you see fit. It’s nothing more than an idea, and I’m very interested in how another person will see my characters and take them in new directions.

Anything you don’t want?:

I prefer to see illness only, no injury. I don’t want to see scat. I’m also not big on sneeze. Regarding emeto, even though it’s totally my thing, I’d rather written descriptions not be extremely graphic. (Visual representations of puke are fantastic, though. I know, I’m really weird.)

See more about my preferences here:

https://builder051.tumblr.com/whatkink

Have you read and understood our rules and guidelines?:

Yes, I have. :)

#builder015 #submission #applicants

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builder051 · 5 years

Note

How about something where Jason (kinda out of the blue) starts rambling about how maybe he's being a bad son by not going home for Christmas, and he's getting fairly worked up and a little teary, and Colby is confused as to where it's all coming from until he puts a hand on Jason's shoulder and realises that his temperature is sky high

Ahhh, the drama. I hate playing favorites, but (with the obvious exception of Troy), I think these guys are my favorite OCs.

_____

Colby’s lost in thought as he drops his towel in the laundry basket and climbs into bed. Jason’s already tucked under the covers, staring down at a textbook in his lap.

“Did you put the baby down?”

“What?” Colby asks, blinking himself out of the daze of fishing paraphernalia flashing through his mind. He knows he’s only a temporary employee, but he genuinely loves the store. He cares that it does well. At first he thinks that’s what Jason’s referring to, but he doesn’t usually smirk like that when they talk about Colby’s holiday job.

“My sister,” Jason says. “You tuck her in or something?”

“No,” Colby replies, pulling the covers up to his waist, but maintaining a few inches between him and Jason. “She just wanted to talk a little bit. And I had to wait for you to get out of the shower, anyway,” he adds a little defensively.

“Mike doesn’t talk. Not, like, socially.” Jason closes his book.

“Yeah, I know. But…she hasn’t been doing so good, and I think maybe acknowledging it is a step in the right direction.”

“You’re trying to be her therapist now? And her mom?” Jason gives a humorless laugh.

“Hey, now,” Colby says softly. “She lives here. We’re friends.”

“Well, give me the full report,” Jason says. “Since she’s apparently not friends with me.”

“God, I didn’t say that,” Colby scrubs his hand down the side of his face. Jason’s probably tired, maybe stressed. He’s just being petty. But Colby also sees the grain of truth. “But, honestly? She feels bad about not going home for Christmas.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Jesus.” Jason bites his lip. “Fuck.” He laughs again, but this time it’s prolonged. Colby watches his eyes well up and drip fat teardrops down his cheeks, and he realizes the sound is a sob. He’s immediately concerned, but also taken aback.

“What…?” Colby starts, his brows knitting together.

“You know we’re staying here for her? Because she’s the one who always fights with our mom? You know I’ve spent the past, like, two months already feeling bad about that? We didn’t go home for Thanksgiving, now we’re not going for Christmas.” Jason pauses to swallow. “Do you know how many texts I haven’t replied to, or said I was studying, or that we’re too busy, or some lame-ass excuse? Do you know how hard that is, to feel like you’re letting your parents down?”

He just needs to talk. He just needs to let his feelings out. It’s just the way Jason is, and Colby knows it. He loves him for it. He knows he doesn’t mean it. It’s not the right time to remind Jason that he has family troubles all his own. “Yeah,” Colby whispers. “I do. It’s really hard. I’m sorry.” He reaches to put his hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“God, I mean, I didn’t…” Jason seems to realize the impact of his words. “I know you look out for your sister too, it’s just, like, I have a reputation, just like Mike has a reputation, but we’re opposite. She’s bad, and I’m good. She doesn’t care. I try really hard not to, but I do.” He sniffles and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

“Yeah…” Colby sighs. He rubs his hand down Jason’s arm until he passes the sleeve on his t-shirt. Sleeping, or even just relaxing in bed, does funny things to body temperature, and so does crying, probably. But the heat coming off Jason seems unnatural for any situation.

Colby reaches with his other hand to cup Jason’s cheek.

“What?” Jason demands weakly.

“You feeling alright? You’re really warm.”

Jason looks at him, another tear escaping from the corner of he eye. “No,” he mumbles, deflating. “I’m a bad son and I ruined Christmas and my head hurts and my throat hurts and I’m fucking cold.”

“Hey, come’ere.” Colby opens his arms as Jason leans into him. “I want you to be well. And happy. And I want the same things for Mike, and your parents, and, well, everybody. But I don’t think any less of you when you’re not.”

“Yeah,” Jason breathes, sending a gust of warm air into Colby’s collar. “I know.”

“Good.” He kisses the top of Jason’s head. “And I know you want me to hold you all night and all day tomorrow until you feel better. Right?” He cracks a smile as Jason looks up at him with red, glassy eyes.

“Right.”

#oc fic #my ocs #sickfic #mike & co #mike deangeles #jason deangeles #colby carson #colby and jason #casa deangles-carson #fever #angst #family issues #drama #relationships

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builder051 · 5 years

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Nov(emeto)ber day 8: Party pooper

Warnings: emeto, teen partying, alcohol, smoking

Fandom: My OCs (Mike & Co)

This takes place in Mike, Ash, and Hannah’s high school days.

_____

Ash barely notices when Hannah pries the red plastic cup out of his hand. “Are you ok?” she asks.

“Huh?” Ash blinks at her, unable to make his eyes focus on her grinning face. She’s giggly, maybe a little buzzed. But it’s nothing compared to his current state. Sloshed doesn’t begin to cover it.

“I said, are you ok?” Hannah repeats. “But actually I think I’m gonna answer for you.” She sets the cup on the counter behind her and latches onto Ash’s arm instead. “Come on.”

She drags him out the front door, away from the noise of the party. “Where’re we going?” Ash slurs. He attempts to quell a belch behind his hand, but he moves too fast, and his fist bounces off his chin.

“Oh, honey.” Hannah shakes her head. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

They emerge onto the porch. Mike’s standing with a couple of guys, smoking a cigarette and laughing. “What’s wrong with him?” she asks, eyeing Ash’s green-tinged face.

“A little too much, I think. We need to get him home,” Hannah says, patting him on the back as he burps again.

“Geez, you have the IQ of a fucking houseplant.” Mike shoves Ash down the steps. “If you think you’re getting in my car right now, you’re delusional.”

“Nah, I’m having so much fun,” Ash mumbles, catching himself on the railing and doubling over it. The blow to the stomach forces a groan into his throat. He isn’t sure if he tastes alcohol or bile, but whatever it is, it splashes up in waves, coating his shirt and the flowerbed below him.

“Oh, man,”Ash groans, wiping his mouth. It’s no use, though. He ducks his head and vomits again.

“Yeah, keep going.” Mike shakes her head. “You got a lot more than that to bring up.”

“Fuck.” Ash spits. Hannah offers him a Kleenex from her pocket and pats him on the back.

“Guess this is my fault, huh?” he asks breathlessly.

Hannah gives him a sympathetic look. “I can’t argue with that.”

#my ocs #mike & co #Ash and Hannah #mike deangeles #Ash Lindsay #hannah pham #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #drunkenness #alcohol #smoking #hurt/comfort

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builder051 · 5 years

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Casa Deangeles-Carson

Here it is. Obviously not to scale, and quite squiggly, but this is how I imagine Mike, Jason, and Colby’s apartment.

#my ocs #mike&co #mike deangeles #jason deangeles #colby carson #colby and jason #casa deangles carson

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builder051 · 6 years

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Risk and reward, part 2

This is part 2 of what I expect to be a 3-part arc featuring Ash, with cameos from the rest of the Mike&Co cast.

Find character info here.

Find the previous installment here.

This chapter contains violence, implied homophobia, and 911 calls.

_____

Ash is on the point of answering when someone calls out to him. A dark figure approaches, walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

“Huh?” Ash stares at the as they pass each other.

“I said, is that an iPhone?” the guy repeats loudly.

“Yeah?” Ash wonders why it matters. He’s already zoomed halfway down the block. He shakes his head and looks forward again.

“Well then you better give it to me. And your wallet.” The second man emerges from the shadows before Ash has the chance to slow down. He stumbles off his board a second before they collide, but it doesn’t stop the large fist from colliding with the side of his face. Ash staggers, dizzy. His phone hits the pavement. Then his head does too.

_____

“Ash?” Mike holds the phone an inch away from her ear as the line crackles loudly. “What the fuck?”

The call’s still connected. Her screen glows, showing a years-old profile pic of Ash sticking his tongue out. “What did you do, you idiot? Did you drop your phone?”

There’s no answer. There is movement, though. Heavy footsteps and what sounds like wind noise. Then a voice that’s decidedly not Ash. “Pat him down. Check his pockets.”

It takes Mike a second to process. “What the hell?” she mutters. This can’t be real. This only happens in movies.

“Gimme your wallet and you won’t get hurt. Well, not too bad.”

“Get away from me. What did I ever do to you?” That sounds like Ash. But its thick and muffled. He’s already hurting.

“We’ll call it wrong place, wrong time.” There’s a gruff laugh.

Then a third voice speaks, this one much closer to Ash’s phone. “What the--?” Static plays over the line, and the sounds shift quieter, then louder again. “Fuck. He was talking to somebody.”

So two attackers? Mike swallows her shock and tries to memorize the details. This guy has Ash’s phone. The other one has Ash.

“Ash?” Mike yells, cramming her phone against her mouth. “Fucking run! Get out of there!”

“Shit. Hang up before they call the cops!” A muffled thump. A cry of pain.

“Who were you talking to, huh?” There’s a tap of thick fingers against the screen.

“Ash!” Mike tries again “Run, Ash!”

“Ash, run!” the goon parrots. He laughs cruelly. “Is that your girlfriend?”

“Hey, you fucking stop,” Mike spits. Anger surges, and she’s glad for it. It’s easier to deal with than fear. “Fucking let him go!” She hears impact again, and Ash moans.

“Ha. Mike.” More laughter. “I fucking knew it. Your pansy-ass boyfriend isn’t coming to save your pansy ass.”

“You shut the fuck up,” Mike rises up on her knees, knocking her laptop off the bed. “Get out of there, Ash!” She can see the events unfolding in her mind’s eye, each one shoving another arrow into her heart. Her stupid nickname, Ash’s tendencies to fill his contacts with emojis instead of useful information, the goddamn stick figure drawing she’d sent him instead of a profile picture… It’s easy to misinterpret, even for someone with an intelligence level higher than that of the average street robber.

“Nah, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Here, get his wallet.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Mike screeches. “You fucking--”

The line crackles again, then goes dead.

“Ash? Come on. Ash?” She knows there won’t be a reply, but she can’t seem to stop asking. “Fuck. Ash?”

Mike’s door bursts open. Jason fumbles the light switch, then stands in the doorway, squinting. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks sleepily. “What the fuck?”

“Goddammit!” Mike lowers her phone, watching the screen fade to black. “Fuck. Ugh. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“What are you doing? Why are you screaming?” Jason blubbers, rubbing his eyes.

“I--fucking Ash,” Mike says, looking at her brother and acutely aware of how much she’s shaking. “He’s getting mugged or something. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Wait, what?” Jason shakes his head. “Ash?”

“Yeah, he called me, and they robbed him, and, fuck, I don’t know--”

“He called you for help?”

Jason’s fixated on the wrong part, and Mike has no patience for him. “No, before that,” she says. “But he’s not here. He’s at home. I don’t-- like, what do I…?” Her throat goes tight. The urge to help is alien to her. But it’s born of protective instincts, some overgrown aspect of her inability to turn away from a fight.

“God, Mike, I don’t know…” Jason comes to sit on the end of Mike’s bed just as Colby appears, looking much more awake.

“What? You ok?” Under any other circumstances, Mike would care about the differences in Colby’s and Jason’s approaches. But today there’s no time to spare on an answer.

“Ash is getting beat up, and he called me from fucking Ann Arbor, and he’s probably dying in the street two hours away from here,” Mike blurts, eager to push out the words as quickly as she can. The pressure of building tears makes her head throb. It’s a feeling she’s unfortunately used to, but that doesn’t make it any more pleasant.

“Ok, um…” Colby blinks a few times. He barely knows Ash, probably barely comprehends what Mike just said. He drops a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder and fixes his eyes on Mike’s. “I think you should call the cops.”

“But it’s a different city!” Here comes the anger again. At least if Mike’s loud, she’s not sobbing. “They won’t do anything!”

“Maybe they can connect you or something.” Colby bites his lip. “I mean, it’s worth a shot.”

“They won’t fucking do anything,” Mike says. But she wakes the screen on her phone anyway.

“Do you want me to call? ‘Cause I will.” Colby holds out his hand. It’s how he operates, pressing Mike’s buttons and driving her up the wall in exactly the right way. Mike wonders if he even realizes he’s doing it.

“I can do it,” she mutters defensively, dialing 911 and putting the phone on speaker.

“911, please state your emergency,” a young, female-sounding voice answers.

“I, um, ok.” Mike takes a breath. “My friend’s getting mugged. They beat him up and took his phone, and he’s hurt, I think.”

“What’s the location?”

“He’s in Ann Arbor,” Mike says. She realizes she’s unsure where in Ann Arbor, making her even more unhelpful. She can rattle off Hannah’s address, give a general description of the neighborhood, but she doesn’t know where Ash’s apartment is, whether it’s north or south or closer to the university.

“Ok. This is East Lansing PD,” the operator says, sounding confused.

“Yeah, I live here,” Mike replies. “He’s in Ann Arbor. We were on the phone, and then the call got fucked up, and he’s getting robbed. They were beating him up!”

“Something happened during the phone call?” the operator clarifies.

“Yes!” Mike shouts, exasperated. “I heard it. There were two of them, taking his shit and hitting him!”

“Ok, sweetie, try to stay calm. Is he conscious, do you think?”

“Don’t fucking call me sweetie! I don’t know. I’m not fucking there.” Tears begin to drip from the corners of Mike’s eyes. “It’s all my fucking fault.”

“Take a breath,” the operator soothes. Mike doesn’t on principle.

Colby clambers onto the bed between Jason and Mike. He gently grabs Mike’s wrist and pulls the phone toward himself.

“This is her roommate,” Colby chimes in. “She’s really worried about her friend.”

“Ok, yes, I understand,” the operator says. “It’s just, it’s a different PD. I can’t dispatch from here.”

“Can you transfer the call?” Colby’s younger than Mike. She wonders how on earth he’s so mature.

“No, but I can give you the number. You can request a welfare check and let them know you suspect an assault.”

“Ok, ok, yeah, good,” Colby says. He leans over and digs a sharpie out of the mess on Mike’s bedside table. He scribbles the number on his palm as the operator reads it off, then thanks her profusely.

“That was a fucking waste of time,” Mike mumbles. The operator wasn’t inept, but Mike choses to color her that way anyway. It helps write over the piece of truth she’d spilled. Mike doesn’t want to think about it, but it is all her fault.

“No it wasn’t.” Colby takes Mike’s phone and starts dialing. He nudges Jason in the back with his knee. “Why don’t you go back to bed. I’ll be right there.” Then he looks at Mike, his gaze earnest again. “We’re gonna take care of this. It’s gonna be ok.”

Every part of Mike screams for her to contradict him. He’s being too optimistic. And she’s been lied to too many times to give the words any weight. But deep in her heart, she wants them to be true. So she stays silent as the phone line begins to ring.

#my ocs #mike & co #mike deangeles #jason deangeles #colby carson #Ash Lindsay #casa deangles-carson #u mich #injury #angst #violence #mugging #homophobia tw #hurt/comfort #oc fic

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builder051 · 6 years

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Risk and reward

Now that H and P are (mostly) settled, I’m going to devote the rest of October to cranking out a short arc with the Mike & Co group. This one will feature all 5 characters, but most of the action will take place with Ash.

A quick warning that this arc will contain violence, injury, and medical stuff (ambulance and hospital settings). Not sure how much they’ll factor in since I haven’t written to far into it yet. This first chapter is very tame.

Apologies in advance for the cliffie ending; I promise more is coming.

_____

Ash looks down at his phone for what feels like the hundredth time in the past hour. Nobody’s going to call him or send him a text at two in the morning, but he can’t shake the feeling of…not paranoia, exactly. More like expectation. He can’t let himself get too deep into USA Today or Angry Birds, just in case something important happens.

He opens his contacts. A Hannah tops his list. Then A Mike, even before A Mom.

He hasn’t communicated with Mike in years now. Liking her stupid Instagram photos doesn’t count, and the visit he’d paid her in the hospital back in the spring doesn’t seem to count either. As heartfelt as it had seemed, neither one of them had known what to do with the emotion.

Ash glances up at the clock, which, surprise, shows the same hour as the screen in his hand. Two in the morning. The hour when egging the neighbor’s house or snarfing down half a pizza seems like a good idea. Risks don’t hold the same weight or the same consequences in the middle of the night.

Risks like calling his ex-best friend. Ash thinks about it, really considers the possible outcomes.

She probably won’t answer. So he could either leave Mike a dumb voicemail or hang up. And if she did answer, she’d either chat or tell him to fuck off. Ash has lived through all four options. He’s not flying blind, even though it feels like he is.

He taps his foot against the leg of the couch. There’s nothing to lose. His battery’s low, and he feels like a daredevil. He presses the call button.

The line rings twice.

“Hello?” Mike sounds raspy, maybe smoky. But not sleepy.

“Oh, hey!” Ash’s heart flutters in his chest. “I just thought, uh, I just thought I’d call. You’re awake.”

“Duh.”

“Well, yeah, I mean,” Ash waffles. “It’s like two AM. I didn’t think you‘d be awake.”

“You’re awake,” Mike points out.

“So. Whatch’ya doing?” Ash asks.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah.” Then the implications click together. “I mean, no, not like Jake from State Farm, or whatever.” Ash shakes his head, his ear batting against the phone. “I mean, like, why are you up at 2 AM?” It’s only marginally less suggestive.

“Watching TV?” Mike’s either pissed or amused. Or possibly both. It’s hard to tell. “What’re you doing? Besides, like, pranking me or whatever the fuck you’re doing.”

“I’m at Hannah’s,” Ash reports.

“That’s gross if you’re calling me for pillow talk.”

“Oh god.” Ash laughs. He cups his hand around his mouth to contain the sound. “No, she’s sick with like the stomach flu or something, so I came by to, like, cheer her up and see if she needed anything, but I forgot my keys. So if I go home, I’m locked out,” he explains.

“You’re fucking dumb.” But Mike gives a tiny chuckle that brings a smile to Ash’s lips.

“Eh, sometimes. I’ll give you that.”

“All the damn time,” Mike says. “So, like, let me picture it. You’re at her house, pretending to sleep on the couch or some shit, while she’s barfing, her brother’s sleeping, and her parents are boning?”

“Her parents might be sleeping.”

“Fuck. Why’d you even go over there?”

“I thought it’d be nice to come take care of Hannah. But she wanted me to leave her alone.” Ash shrugs. He probably deserved the rebuffing. And Hannah wasn’t even angry. Just tired and feverish.

“I can’t believe you’re still there.” Mike snickers again.

“I told you! I’d be locked out if I went home.”

“Hannah has a key to your apartment, right?”

“Yeah…?” It dawns on Ash that when the flow of conversation between them petered off after senior year, so did all the knowledge of each other’s lives. It would only take Facebook and logical deduction to put two and two together and figure out he doesn’t live at home anymore, but still. It takes a care factor too.

“So take her keys, go home, find yours, and bring hers back later. I mean, she’ll probably want to go to school in the morning, but if she’s still yakking…” Mike gives the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe I never thought of that.” Ash bounces up and down slightly, the couch cushion creaking with his movement.

“I can.”

“Yeah, ‘course you can. But you’re like a genius, and I’m just—“

“Dumb,” Mike finishes.

“Yeah, you said that,” Ash good-naturedly agrees. He squints in the dark as he picks his way around the coffee table and into the entryway. Hannah’s keys hang on a hook beside the front door, her monogrammed keychain swaying slightly under the ring. Ash puts them in his pocket, then steps on the edge of his skateboard so it flips up into his free hand.

“I am fast, though,” Ash says. “I bet I can get home and back here in…half an hour? You wanna time me?”

“You seriously want me to keep talking to you for that long?” Mike’s tone is hard to read again. It’s not completely negative, though, so Ash takes it as a win.

“If you can still hear me with the, like, wheel noise in the background.” He lets himself out, then jumps on his board and coasts down the driveway. “Can you?” Ash adjusts the phone against his ear.

“Yeah,” Mike sighs. “But it does kinda fuck up the sound.”

“I’ll get one of those fancy noise reduction microphones,” Ash says. “It’ll be better next time. And then I can make sick skating videos when it’s windy outside.”

Mike makes a sound of acknowledgement. Then, “So you’re gonna make this a thing? Like, calling?”

Ash is on the point of answering when someone calls out to him. A dark figure approaches, walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

“Huh?” Ash stares at the as they pass each other.

“I said, is that an iPhone?” the guy repeats loudly.

“Yeah?” Ash wonders why it matters. He’s already zoomed halfway down the block. He shakes his head and looks forward again.

#my ocs #mike&co #ash lindsay #hannah pham #ash and hannah #mike deangeles #u mich #sickfic #friendship #angst #violence #cliffhanger

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builder051 · 6 years

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Love your work so much! Excited as always for SS! Maybe if you're willing, would you write a lil Drabble of Colby getting sick from emotion when he's in a fight with Jason or Mike, and worrying that he's gonna get kicked out of the house? (but ofc they aren't really gonna do that to him)

Thank you! I’ve kind of been meaning to get back to the serious storyline for these guys, so thanks for giving me an in here. I hope it reads ok, since I want to keep it pretty short.

Small TW for ED-related things, but it’s very mild and not the focal point of this story.

_____

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Mike spits. She shoves her plate across the table and gets to her feet. “Stop pressuring me!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Colby says quickly. “I’m sorry.” He takes the plate of food to the counter. “Do you want something else?” He opens the fridge and pulls out the Wonder bread and strawberry jam. “Toast?”

“Just fucking stop.” Mike starts down the hall toward her room. “No means no. You should know that.”

“Ok. Ok, yeah.” Colby lets the fridge door slam shut. He’s defeated. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he sighs.

“Yeah, right.” Mike rolls her eyes as she stops away.

“Fuck,” Colby murmurs, leaning against the counter and burying his face in his hands. He can already feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

It’s been a challenging week for all of them. The job at the tackle shop Colby’d thought he’d nabbed had fallen through, and without classes to keep him busy, he’d found himself spending most of his time sitting across the table from an increasingly crabbier Mike while Jason’s been out enjoying his summer internship.

Colby pulls a tupperware from the cabinet above the sink and dumps the uneaten dinner into it. The sight of roasted sweet potatoes and kale suddenly turns his stomach, and Colby’s swallowing back bile in addition to tears.

What is he doing here? How is he contributing to the household? All he seems to do anymore is cook food nobody eats and give advice nobody wants. Mike’s face is beginning to look pinched again as she skips meals and throws dirty looks. And while Jason seems to be having the time of his life tutoring kids in summer school, he comes home tired and in no mood to chat.

Colby swipes his wrist under his eye to catch a tear. No one is happy. Not really. It seems only a matter of time before Mike or Jason or both decide they’re better off without him. All he does is spend their money and get in the way.

By force of habit, Colby looks for a bright side, for something to turn the situation around. But he’s all out of tricks. Mike’s stopped giving him the time of day. Jason’s closer to his dream career than ever before, and if this is an indication of the future, things might not be looking so good.

Colby’s stomach rises to his throat, and he quickly sets down the plate and clamps his hand over his mouth as he runs to the bathroom. He begins to sob as he throws up, dripping tears into the toilet bowl along with bile.

Colby doesn’t hear the apartment door open, so it’s a surprise when Jason’s voice sounds from the doorway. “Are you ok?”

Colby reaches for a square of toilet paper to wipe his mouth, and words begin to tumble out amid fresh sobs and dry heaves. “All I do is mess up. Mike’s mad at me and I don’t have any money and you’re so busy now. Just tell me to go. I promise I will.”

“What?” Jason sounds taken aback and confused. He sits on the edge of the bathtub, giving Colby a wide berth, but still providing a comforting presence. “You didn’t get high again, did you?”

“No…?”

“‘Cause you’re talking nonsense,” Jason says. “I mean, I know things are kind of shitty right now, like, for all of us. But I’m not kicking you out.”

Colby blows his nose and lets the words sink in. “I’m sorry. I’d get it if you didn’t want me around…”

“Are you kidding? Of course I want you around. Coming home to see you is something I look forward to every day.”

“Really?” Colby flushes the toilet and looks up at Jason.

Jason smiles at him. “Yeah. I’d come kiss you if you hadn’t just puked.”

Colby laughs quietly, and more tears flow down his cheeks. “I’ll brush my teeth, I guess.”

#mike & co #colby carson #mike deangeles #jason deangeles #casa deangles-carson #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #angst #oc fic #my ocs

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builder051 · 6 years

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Okay, for the 200 words, maybe Colby getting sick all the sudden during like 'family movie night' or something, and Jason just being so squicked that he's actually puke if he tried to help, so Mike is left to clean up the mess and 'comfort' him as best she can? Congrats on 337 followers!

Thank you!

_____

“What’s wrong with you?” Mike asks, throwing a piece of popcorn across the room so it bounces off the side of Colby’s head.

“Hm?” Colby startles from his drowse and looks at her. “Nothing, I was …paying attention.” He turns his gaze back to the movie playing on the TV.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jason shoots back, “You’re supposed to eat your popcorn, not play with it.”

Mike makes an ugly face at him, then addresses Colby again. “Seriously, though. You’re like a ghost. And this movie isn’t even scary.”

Colby shifts against Jason’s arm. “Maybe I’ve kind of got a headache…” he admits. Then, “Oh, shit.” He jumps up with his hand over his mouth. He only gets two steps away from the couch when he retches, sick spraying between his fingers and onto the floor.

“Fuck.” Jason almost upends his popcorn as he throws his arms up over his face. “Oh my god.”

“Oh, shut up,” Mike says, shaking her head.

“I’m so sorry,” Colby chokes. He runs down the hallway toward the bathroom, and his loud gagging carries to the living room.

“Go take care of him,” Mike snaps at Jason. “Don’t just sit there.”

Jason lowers his arms, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t…I can’t. If I go in there, I’m gonna…” He fixes his wide eyes on his sister, avoiding the mess of puke on the floor.

“Are you fucking serious?” Mike rolls her eyes.

Jason nods weakly.

“Ok. Geez.” She sighs. “Get out of here, then.” She grabs the roll of paper towels from the kitchen. “But you fucking owe me.”

#oc fic #my ocs #mike & co #jason deangeles #colby carson #mike deangeles #casa deangles-carson #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #200-word fic

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builder051 · 6 years

Photo

Here’s all of Mike & Co, arranged by their sub-groups.

#my ocs #my art #mike & co #mike deangeles #jason deangeles #colby carson #hannah pham #ash lindsay

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builder051 · 6 years

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Mike & Co story arc part 4

Catch up with these guys on the master fic list here.

Warnings for very dark (yet also vague) content relating to eating disorders, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts wrapped up in a guise of emotional h/c.

_____

Jason’s still too upset to face Mike, so Colby leaves him in the cafeteria and climbs the stairs to her ward alone. He knocks on the door to her room, but doesn’t wait to open it a crack.

“What?” Mike barks.

Colby pushes the door all the way open. “Hey, hey,” he says, fighting to put some brightness in his voice.

Mike stands at the end of her bed, and she has on jeans under her hospital gown. There’s dirt on the butt and a grass stain by her knee. They’re definitely the ones she’d been wearing during the ordeal of her arrest. “You here to bug me too?” she asks gruffly.

“Not bug you. Just see you,” Colby replies.

“Huh. Could’ve fucking waited till I got home.” Mike grabs her backpack off the floor and starts throwing things into it. Her laptop goes in first, then a hairbrush.

“Going home?” Colby eases closer and stays her elbow. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m an adult. I’m not in police custody. I want to get the fuck out of here,” Mike says with a shrug.

“But you haven’t been discharged.” It comes out somewhere between a statement and a question. Colby holds Mike’s gaze until she looks away.

“I don’t have to be. I can go when I want.” False toughness imbues Mike’s tone.

Colby recognizes that she’s putting up a front. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess you can.” He pauses, wondering if Mike will answer if he asks. “What did the doctor say?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mike says. She shoves a pair of socks into her bag.

“I’m not saying you have to listen to him,” Colby placates. “I just, you know. What did he say?”

Mike relaxes the tension in her arm, and her backpack scrapes the floor even though the handle’s still tight in her grip. She blinks. Swallows. “Inpatient,” she says, then quickly looks away. “He wants me to fucking go to inpatient.” She punctuates the sentence with a derisive laugh.

Colby sucks in his breath. He’d thought as much, but it’s different to hear Mike say it aloud, even hidden under bravado and profanity. “Hm,” Colby hums, choosing his words carefully. He understands Mike like few others do, but the last thing he wants is to make her uncomfortable. It’s a delicate situation for both of them. “We all know that’s not happening,” he finally says. “But the suggestion’s gotta be what you expected.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mike mutters. She pulls her phone charger out of the wall. She holds it in one hand and the strap of her backpack in the other. “I gotta get my toothbrush, “ she mutters, taking a step toward the bathroom.

“Hey, hold up,” Colby says, putting up a hand to stop her. “Get it in a minute. Sit down with me for a little while first.”

“Why?” Mike demands.

“’Cause I haven’t seen you in, like, a day,” Colby teases. “I missed you.”

Mike’s brows furrow. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did,” Colby says, bringing a touch of seriousness back. “Believe it or not, I like having you around. And so does Jason.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t make this one of those ‘we care about you’ talks.”

Colby sighs. “Ok. Come sit with me, though.” He perches on the edge of the unmade hospital bed and gestures for Mike to take the chair beside it.

“I have to get my shit packed up,” Mike says, resisting.

“Do it later. Come’ere.” Colby taps the leg of the chair with his foot and digs in his pocket. He finds what he’s looking for and clasps the small tube in his fist.

Mike gives him a look, but drops her bag and flops into the seat. “What?” she demands again. “Are you just putting a kink in my chain, or –“

“Give me your hands.” Colby holds his own hands out, palms up, the tube of hand salve pinched in the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Are you serious? Are we gonna fucking meditate or something?”

“Come on, Mike. Humor me for a minute,” Colby says, locking his eyes on hers again.

“Ugh. Fine.” Mike lays the tips of her fingers over Colby’s, barely touching him.

“Good,” Colby says. He unscrews the cap from the hand salve and squeezes a bit of the cream into his palm. He gently grabs Mike’s bony wrist and starts to massage her hand.

“Really?” Mike asks. “Are you gonna give me a fucking manicure too? Or am I guinea pig for your new all-natural lube?”

“No,” Colby chuckles. “I just want you to relax for a minute. Lavender essential oil is gonna help you be calm. Organic beeswax is gonna make your hands soft.”

“Yeah, right.” Mike rolls her eyes.

“Take a deep breath,” Colby says.

Mike glares at him for a second, then complies. Her shoulders rise as she inhales, and her stiff posture softens the slightest bit as she exhales.

Colby rubs the moisturizer into the heel of Mike’s hand and asks, “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. Lame.”

“Yeah, you do,” Colby pushes. “How are you feeling, really?”

“You can’t tell me how I do or don’t feel,” Mike snaps.

“You’re right. I can’t.” Colby works the salve into Mike’s palm, then holds her hand between his and flips it. “But I know when you’re lying.”

“God. I thought I was gonna escape before they threw a psychiatrist at me.” Mike gives a malicious laugh, but she uses her free hand to scrub fiercely at her eyes.

Mikes knuckles are black and blue, and Colby touches them gingerly as he massages the back of her hand. There are reddish scrapes in the midst of the bruises, but they’re not scabbed over and healing like the rest of her injuries. Colby’s heart breaks as he imagines her, here, in the hospital, knocking the knobs of her knuckles against her teeth as she scrambles to bring up whatever she’d forced down.

“Hey, talk to me,” Colby says, wrapping his hand protectively over Mike’s. “I’m not looking for the right answer, ok? I want to hear how you actually feel.”

“Fuck off, Colby.” Mike tries to yank her hand back, but either she doesn’t try hard enough or she really is that weak. Colby’s grip doesn’t budge. And tears glitter at the corners of Mike’s eyes.

“I’m not gonna judge you,” Colby assures her. “You know me well enough to know that.”

“But you and your fucking open mindedness are gonna tell Jason, and he’s gonna tell my parents and then I’m gonna have to go to fucking inpatient and…” Mike shakes her head. “And I’m gonna kill myself. I’m not gonna go there again. I can’t.” A single teardrop slides down Mike’s cheek, and she wipes it away with her shoulder, using enough force to leave a red patch on her cheek from the hospital gown’s rough fabric.

Colby gathers his breath. “I know that’s not a good environment for you,” he says. “It’s all about rules, and…no one takes the time to get to know how you work best. But Mike,” Colby steels himself up to lay down the truth. “You’re not doing so well.”

“You don’t think I fucking know that?” Mike growls through gritted teeth.

“We both do.” Colby reaches for Mike’s other hand, and he clasps them together in his. “I don’t see you any differently because you’re struggling. But you can’t stay like this. You’re hurting yourself. And you’re hurting other people too.”

“Jason’s a crybaby.”

“Watching you fall apart, it kind of hurts me, too,” Colby admits, emotion coming up and tightening his vocal cords. “I don’t want you to…” He shakes his head. “Be honest with me. What are you trying to do?”

“I…” Mike shakes her head. Another tear escapes, and she bites her lip, her whole face quivering. “I don’t fucking know.”

Colby feels like he’s been punched in the chest, and Mike looks it. Her shoulders cave in as she fights not to cry.

“It’s ok,” Colby says. “To feel…however. To be mad, or sad, or…you know.”

Mike huffs out her breath and makes a choked noise deep in her throat. “I…I don’t want to be like this. I just… I can’t—“ She swallows, and tear tracks run from both eyes, down her cheeks, and off her chin.

“It’s ok, Mike,” Colby says again. He squeezes her hands. “It’s—“

He’s interrupted with a knock on the door, which Colby realizes, too late, isn’t closed all the way. He expects to see Jason, or maybe a nurse, but instead he locks eyes with a bewildered-looking redheaded boy. “Um. Hey,” he says uncertainly, pushing the door open. “Mike? Remember me?”

#mike & co #mike deangeles #colby carson #emotional hurt/comfort #emotions #eating disoder tw #suicidal thoughts tw #dark #my ocs

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builder051 · 6 years

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Mike & Co story arc: part 1

This is going to be a 5-parter? Maybe? Something like that. Nowhere near as long as Hildur and Pierce’s storyline, but still decently extended. The episodes will move among different characters’ POV, and Mike, Jason, Colby, Ash, and Hannah will all be included. There will be a little bit of illness/emeto, but it’s going to be mainly plot.

WARNING FOR EATING DISORDER CONTENT. It kind of features in this part, but it’s going to be vague and kind of glossed over throughout because it’s not the main focus of this arc, but it’s definitely a thing that affects all of these charas, whether directly or indirectly.

Also, a warning for an obscene amount of cursing. This girl is by far my most foul-mouthed character.

_____

Everything’s fine. Everything is completely and totally fine. Her grades are good. She’s not being forced to go home for spring break. There’s plenty of new stuff to watch on Netflix. So why Mike goes into the 7-11 and buys out a display of Hostess Cupcakes is beyond her. Nothing’s weighing on her mind. She hasn’t been in a fight. The urge just hits like a ton of bricks and she’s suddenly powerless.

She hasn’t done this in months, and maybe that’s why she’s so out of practice in saying no to herself. Mike holds the plastic shopping bag in the crook of her elbow and swallows the first cupcake in two bites. She reaches in for another, and self-hatred flares up in her ribcage. That feeling’s more familiar.

Mike finishes the sweets by the time she finishes the walk to the campus. She crumples the shopping bag and lobs it into the trash outside the humanities building, then shoves inside. It’s after five on a Friday, so the hallways are deserted. That’s a good thing.

Mike pauses to take a long drink from the water fountain, then ducks into the bathroom to get down to business. She feels weird and shaky and a little guilty to be doing this again after being clean for so long. But post-purge guilt still beats holding onto the calories.

It’s like riding a bike; the technique comes back quickly, and Mike’s at the sink washing up within minutes. Her eyes are read and teary, and they’ll probably stay that way for half an hour or so. At least she’s on a college campus, so she can blame smoking pot.

She dries her hands with a paper towel, then uses it to wipe her mouth. Now that the deed’s done, she’s exhausted. The tremor she felt earlier has crept permanently into arms and legs, and she knows it won’t go away until she falls asleep or eats something for real. And that’s definitely not going to happen any time soon.

Mike wants to go home. There’s no reason to loiter around campus anymore; her classes are all done for break. She can practically hear her bed calling from across town. Some music, some TV. Maybe a little ibuprofen/Unisom cocktail. That sounds nice.

But Jason and Colby are probably home. They are more often than not, and it’s way too early for them to have retired to the bedroom. They’re probably sitting at the kitchen table right now, wondering where the fuck she is, because that’s all they seem to do. If she wants them to stay out of her business, she can’t go home yet.

Mike considers sending out an exploratory text message, a simple hey what are you doing? But if anything’s going to get her caught, it’s that. She never initiates contact.

Mike shoves her phone deep into her pocket and starts a circuit around the campus. If she goes out behind the Humanities building and walks the paved loop around most of the main thoroughfare, she’ll kill an hour and another couple hundred calories. Mike wraps her arms around her midsection and slaps her feet hard against the sidewalk.

She wishes she could refocus, just snap her fingers and immediately place some other fixation in her brain, at least temporarily. Bile and chocolate still coat her back teeth, and Mike isn’t sure if she’s disgusted or thrilled. She wishes she had a cigarette. But it’s cold and windy out, and it probably wouldn’t stay lit anyway. Just like she can’t stay normal.

“Why’d you do that?” Mike spits under her breath. “Why’d you fucking do that?”

She can’t come up with a good answer. She just felt like it. She gave in. She fucked up.

If she was talking to Colby, he’d say it was ok. It’s ok to fuck up and have a setback. She can just try to do better tomorrow.

Mike guesses she can. But it doesn’t make her any less stupid today.

Jason would tell it like it is. He’d give Mike a good disappointed head-shake and tell her to go fuck herself. Or just eat food like a normal person and not throw it back up.

Then she’d ask him how he knew what normal people did. The possibility of an argument would be too good to resist.

“You don’t know what normal people do either,” Mike huffs to herself. “Not everybody thrives on conflict like you, bitch.”

She would’ve clocked herself in the face with that comment if the choice had been anywhere near logical. The desire to hit something is rising fast. There’s a dilapidated storage shed coming up a few feet off the path, and Mike steps onto the soggy grass and slams her fist into the dented door. It produces a hollow sound, and the whole shack seems to shudder even though the punch is weak.

Something perks up in Mike’s brain as adrenaline starts to flow, and she hits the door again. She assumes a sloppy boxing stance and jabs right and left and right again. Her knuckles start to hurt, and somehow that makes her laugh. She switches to battering the door with the heel of her hand. It creaks as if it’s going to give way under Mike’s meager strength, and in her mind, it’s fucking hilarious.

If she manages to break down the door, is there going to be some kind of junker lawn mower inside? Mike’s suddenly keen to find out. The pseudo-boxing match is making her tired, so she readjusts and rams the door with her shoulder. Pain lances down her arm and across her back. She’s too bony to throw her weight around without hurting herself. But it doesn’t keep her from trying again.

Mike backs up a foot or so and throws her hip and elbow into the shed. She feels something give way, and she knows she’ll only need to smack the thing another couple more times to force the door open. She takes a second to catch her breath and swallow bitter saliva before she puts her back into it again.

“Hey! What are you doing? That’s university property!”

Mike looks over her shoulder to see two campus police officers hurrying toward her. “Fuck,” she mumbles. She should run for it. But she’s so close to forcing the shed open. She doesn’t want to stop. She can’t stop.

Mike butts the side of her body into the door one more time, and the latch breaks off the door with a crunch. She falls sideways as the door swings open under her, but before she hits the ground, one of the officers has his hand wrapped around her arm. “What do you think you’re doing?” he barks.

She got the door open, but it’s not like it proved anything. Now she’s stuck here with two cops, and she might have been committing a crime. She has a feeling explaining the truth is going to get her nowhere. I had to do something to distract myself from the fact that I’d just broken a 4-month clean streak from my eating disorder probably isn’t going to hold water with the police. Like she’d willingly speak those words anyway.

So she does the next worst thing she can think of. Mike draws her free arm back and aims a punch at the officer’s jaw.

“Whoa, calm down,” the other cop says, moving his hands in a shushing motion. “We just want to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” Mike grunts. She manages to get her feet under her. The officer holding her arm doesn’t have much on her in height, but he’s heavy. His belt and tucked-in shirt hold a substantial beer gut. She bets he hits the Hostess cupcakes pretty hard too. Mike can barely look at him without being disgusted. She gathers her remaining strength and socks him in the stomach.

“Ma’am, I need you to put both hands up.” The fat officer tries to manhandle her around to face the shed’s outer wall.

“Let me go,” Mike grunts. “Don’t touch me.” She continues to struggle.

“We just wanted to have a chat,” the other cop says, reaching for Mike’s flailing hand. He has red hair like Ash, and the thought of her old friend makes her want to knock him to the ground. She doesn’t have a reason to hate this officer. She doesn’t have a reason to hate Ash, either. But the violent feelings don’t stop coming.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Mike thrashes her body, and the fat cop’s arm comes around her waist. He isn’t holding her tightly, but panic strobes in her brain, and she feels sick. She wants to run.

“You want to get booked for resisting arrest?” The red-headed officer asks.

“I don’t want anything to do with anything,” Mike spits. Her head is growing foggy. The peeling paint on the outside of the shed blurs before her eyes. One ear is about ten times heavier than the other, and she tilts badly to one side.

“Stand up straight. Put your hands behind your head,” The fat cop says. “This is the last time I’m gonna ask.”

Mike might’ve complied. Or maybe she wouldn’t’ve. She doesn’t get the chance to decide, though, because vertigo suddenly takes precedence, and she doubles over to retch against the wall.

“Hey, alright.” The fat cop lets go of Mike’s stomach and grips her by the back of her shirt instead. “This for real or are you just playing?”

Mike gags and manages to choke, “I’m fine. Leave me alone.” She takes one stumbling step away from the officers and almost falls. She claws at the side of the shed to hold herself upright.

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk. You can sit down, cool off a little,” the red-head offers. He puts his hand on Mike’s shoulder in a way that’s half-comforting and half-threatening. She jerks away and covers her mouth with her hand. She throws up anyway, and it’s mostly chocolate mixed with some snot and bile.

“Fuck.” She thought she’d gotten it all back up.

“Ma’am?”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not going with you!” The force of shouting makes Mike lightheaded, and she stumbles again.

“Are you going to faint?” The cops look at each other.

“Just leave me alone,” Mike mumbles. The words are getting harder to form. Her vision swirls, and it only makes the dizziness worse.

“We’re gonna get you some medical attention, ok?” The fat cop puts his arm around her waist while the other one talks into a walkie-talkie. Mike catches the wordambulance.

“Don’t take me…” she chokes out. They can’t take her to the hospital. They can’t. She won’t stand for it. She’ll run away. She’ll let Jason drive her home. “Call my brother.”

“We’ll call him when we get to the ER,” the red-headed officer reassures. “They’ll help you out with whatever’s going on or whatever you took. Then we’ll get in touch with your family…”

Mike wants to burst out laughing again. They think she’s high. She wishes she was high. But she’s already out of her mind and her eyes are red, so there’s probably little difference.

“Fuck you. I’m alright.” Mike makes one more effort to get away. She’ll escape the fat cop’s partial embrace and run.

But she can’t even get on her feet. Mike lists sideways and everything goes dark.

#oc fic #mike & co #mike deangeles #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #eating disoder tw #ed tw

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builder051 · 6 years

Text

Mike & Co story arc: part 2

Enter Jason, who is actually of sound mind (probably). Refresh your memory and check out part 1 here.

Warnings for: hospitals, some ED talk, physical health talk, mental health talk, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of death.

I don’t think it’s actually as heavy as it sounds...? Maybe not; I’m a soulless bastard, don’t’ya’know.

_____

Jason doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there. Long enough for the pleather recliner to feel uncomfortable. Long enough for the light of dawn to start filtering through the blinds on the window. But still not long enough for Mike to wake up.

She looks small lying in the hospital bed, practically engulfed by pillows. Her chin tilts toward one shoulder and her hair fans out under her head. For once she’s not frowning. He looks almost peaceful.

“The hell have you gotten yourself into?” Jason mutters for the thousandth time. “What have you gotten us all into?” He sighs and adjusts his slouch so he can balance his elbow on the armrest and drop his forehead onto his fist.

The sound of sheets rustling startles Jason back to awareness. He blinks away grogginess and pushes himself up straight in the chair. Mike does the same in the bed. She finds the buttons embedded in the side rail and raises the mattress till she’s supported.

“Yo,” Jason says, all his irritation with her evaporating. “Good to see you awake.”

“How long was I out?” Mike asks.

“A while,” Jason says. “They, uh. Gave you some sedatives.”

Mike looks around the small room. She already knows where she is. It’s more like she’s taking in the scenery. “What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Jason asks.

Mike blinks. Swallows. “You don’t really want to know.”

Of course it isn’t. He tries not to imagine. “Well, the cops picked you up. Apparently you told them to call me before you passed out, so at least you were kind of using your brain. Otherwise they would’ve called mom and dad.”

Mike twists the sheets in her lap. “Have you told mom and dad?”

“Not yet,” Jason says.

Mike looks around again. “Is this ward general? Or…or something else?”

“What? Psych?”

Mike glares at him. “Just tell me what happened.”

“You really don’t remember?” Even in Jason’s inexpert opinion, that seems like a bad sign.

“It’s foggy,” Mike admits. “And you said I’ve been on drugs. I don’t want to guess wrong.”

It’s fair enough. “Well, you got arrested,” Jason says with as little ceremony as possible. “But you passed out, so the cops called an ambulance. They thought you were high, but you weren’t, so they admitted you.”

“That it?” Mike raises her eyebrows.

“You resisted pretty hard,” Jason says. “So after you came to, they just knocked you out again.”

“Yeah, figures.” Mike gives a singular chuckle.

“It’s not funny.”

Mike shrugs. “It kind of is. You sure this isn’t psych? If I was, like violent…” She sounds almost proud.

“Yeah, it’s a regular ward. You had, like barely any blood pressure or something. You’re pretty sick.” Mike just blinks at him, so Jason goes on. “And you’re not that tough. You’re a fucking toothpick.”

“Can I go?” Mike picks at the tape holding the IV to her arm. “I don’t want to be here.”

“You haven’t been released yet. And if you pull that thing out, I swear, I’m gonna pass out too.” Jason holds both hands in front of his face.

“I’m an adult. I can check myself out if I want.” Mike rolls her eyes. “But will I be in trouble with the cops if I go? Are they, like, holding me here?”

“Oh. No. You were technically in custody for a while, but we paid your bail. They gave you a really low one since we’re ‘starving college kids’ and all.” He uses air quotes around the phrase.

Mike raises her eyebrows. “Right.”

“Sorry. Bad choice of words. I think he was bending the rules ‘cause you’re a cute girl who’s never really been in trouble before.” Jason shakes his head. “But point is, I put up a couple hundred bucks, and you get to go free as long as you make your court date. He’ll probably come back with some papers and shit for you to sign.”

“The fuck are they charging me with?” Mike grumbles, picking at the IV line again. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Resisting arrest and damage to public property. I guess you broke a latch off a door or something?” Jason tries to recall what the officer told him. Lack of sleep is catching up, though, and his brain feels like mush.

“That’s stupid.”

“Well, I don’t make the rules.”

A moment of quiet ensues. Then Mike bites her lip. “You really didn’t tell Mom and Dad?”

Jason shakes his head. “No.”

“That’s…” Mike shakes her head. “That’s weird of you. I know you’re their spy. Making sure I behave myself.”

“Do you want me to tell them?” Jason already knows the answer; he doesn’t need to keep proving the point. He wonders if that makes him cruel.

“Fuck no.”

“Well, see?”

“Since when have you ever done what I want?” Mike crosses her arms over her chest. There might be a tremor going in her hands, but it’s clear she doesn’t want Jason to see.

“Since…” Jason scrubs his fist over one eye and sighs. “I don’t know, Mike. Since you started scaring me so much.” The emotion he’s been pushing down all night grows into a clot at the back of his throat.

“Scaring you how? Nothing I do is about you,” Mike says, venom imbuing her tone.

“I know it’s not about me.” Jason takes a breath, then lets his feelings spill out. “What would you do to yourself if I told them, huh? When you lock yourself in the bathroom, I don’t know if you’re slitting your wrists or what. I don’t…I don’t want you to do anything because of me.”

Another uncomfortable silence passes. Then Mike mutters, “I didn’t think you cared that much.”

“How could I not care? You’re my only sister. We don’t get along anymore, sure. But…Jesus Christ, Mike, I can’t believe you’re making me say this.” He’s going to cry. Hot tears already fill the corners of his eyes.

“I’m not making you do anything. Just get up and fucking leave.”

“No, you’re sitting there fucking manipulating me because you know you can.” Jason fights to keep his breaths even. “I’d be sad if you died, ok? I love you, and you matter to me. So get better, ok?” His voice catches, and he rubs his sleeve over his eyes. “I want you to get better.”

“You can’t just say that and have it happen.” Mike doesn’t look at him. She yanks the tape off the IV line.

“I know that.” Jason swallows a sob. “But you’re in over your head. I want to help you. Colby wants to help you. Fuck. Mom and Dad want to help you.”

“Don’t talk to me about Mom and Dad,” Mike snaps. She winces as she starts to pull on the needle in the crook of her elbow. “Get the fuck out.”

Jason doesn’t need telling twice. “God fucking dammit.” He leans against the wall outside Mike’s room, fighting waves of dizziness. He can’t hide the tears that run down his face as he makes his way down the corridor.

At the nurses’ station, he pauses. “Can you call me?” he asks desperately. “If my sister tries to check herself out? Or if she sees the doctor? Or, like, if anything happens?”

The nurse behind the counter nods and holds out a box of tissues. “Of course,” he says.

“Just…” Jason chokes on a sob. “Don’t let her make any more bad choices.”

***

“Here you go.” Colby passes Jason a tall styrofoam cup and pulls out the chair across from him.

“What is it?” Jason asks, resigned. His voice is still rough from crying.

“Taste it and find out,” Colby says.

Jason takes a swig. The warmth and sweetness of the hot chocolate is soothing, and he smiles as he reaches for Colby’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Figured it was what you needed.” Colby gives him a small smile.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Jason takes another sip. “Thanks for coming. I know this isn’t how you want to be spending Spring Break, sitting around in a hospital cafeteria…” He shakes his head.

“Seriously? Where else would I be?” Colby flattens Jason’s hand between both his palms.

“I don’t know,” Jason murmurs. “I don’t even know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

They already have. Jason’s passed on every bit of information he knows about Mike’s condition. That her weight’s bordering on dangerously low. That her heart’s working too hard. That every time she smokes a cigarette or goes for a jog or sticks her finger down her throat she’s straining herself enough to risk her life. The added stress of an arrest and a court date will be nowhere near helpful for her condition.

Jason shrugs. “You know the facts.”

“I mean, like, how you feel about it. You can’t hold it in all by yourself. The pressure is going to end up hurting you,” Colby says.

Jason takes another sip of his drink. He heaves a sigh and blinks quickly as his eyes well up again.

“Hey, it’s healthy to cry,” Colby says.

Jason digs in his pocket for the crumpled tissue he’d taken from the nurse’s station earlier. “God,” he whispers as he wipes his eyes. “It’s only the same shit I’ve always known. She’s been doing it for almost 4 years. I don’t care about the stuff with the cops. It’s the way she keeps hurting herself that just…fucks me up. I don’t know why I’m so upset about it now.”

“It’s a different context,” Colby says. “Everything’s scarier in a hospital.”

“Yeah, I guess.” The pressure of the tears is starting to make his head ache. “I feel stupid for not caring so much before.”

“No,” Colby reassures. “You totally cared. It’s just hard to help somebody who doesn’t want help.”

Long-forgotten feelings are building up in Jason’s chest again. The longer he sits there, the more he feels like he’s going to burst. “You know, um…” He tries to gather his words. “You know my brother died, right?”

Colby slowly shakes his head. He clasps Jason’s hand tighter. “No,” he breathes.

“It was SIDS, we were all really little,” Jason says quickly. “I don’t even really remember it. But…” He swallows hard. “I just don’t want to lose…”

“Yeah.”

“Mike can’t die.” A sob wracks Jason’s shoulders. “She can’t fucking die.”

“She’s not gonna die,” Colby says. He reaches across the table to squeeze Jason’s shoulder.

“You can’t know that. She’s gonna do something else stupid and it’s gonna be too much and there’s not going to be anything we can do about it.”

“Mike’s smart. She’ll come around,” Colby says. “Maybe not right away, but she’ll come around.”

“What if she doesn’t? I’ve been waiting for her to get the memo for four years.” Jason can barely force out the words. The emotion makes his teeth chatter.

“She will,” Colby says firmly. “I’ll talk some sense into her. So will the doctors. She’ll listen to you eventually.”

“I…” Jason forces a deep breath. “I want to believe that.”

“Then do.”

“I just…don’t know if I can. Her track record is…” Jason shakes his throbbing head.

“Things change. Let’s look on the positive side,” Colby says. Then he asks, “Have you eaten?”

“You going all ED therapist on me too?” Jason asks with a dry laugh.

“No, it’s 11:30, and I’m pretty sure all you’ve had today is sugar.” Colby tests the weight of Jason’s hot chocolate. “Yeah, time for some real food, I think. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t know…”

“Trust me.” Colby stands up. “We’ll have a sandwich and go from there, ok?”

Jason swallows hard, then nods. “Ok.”

#my ocs #oc fic #mike & co #mike deangeles #jason deangeles #colby carson #sickfic #eating disoder tw #death tw #hospitals tw #mental health #physical health #suicidal thoughts tw #suicide tw #hurt/comfort

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