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emberfrostlovesloki · 3 years

Text

#25 Drowning (in Paperwork).

Prompt: You overhear Spencer defending after someone calls you stupid / lazy.

Category: Angst / Comfort

Content Warning: None

A/N: Sorry that I have been gone so long. Grad school has been as busy as I imagined it would be. I’m almost free however and will hopefully post often over the break. This piece has been sitting idle for months so here is it. This is a collaboration with @imagining-in-the-margins who came up with the idea for the story. They have some awesome CM content, so I highly recommend their blog.

Word Count: 2K

List with all stories

Y/n = your name

Y/l/n = your last name

_Y/n_ was currently slumped over her desk asleep. The bullpen was mostly empty at the moment because most of the members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit were out grabbing their lunch from the breakroom or getting food from the many take out joints near the FBI compound. Agent y/l/n_ had planned on shot gunning a cup of coffee and continuing her paperwork over their most recent successful case. The unsub, Keith Drivesdale, had ended the whole situation very dramatically with a seven mile footrace in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Tennessee. Mr. Drivesdale had been kidnapping young female hikers on the Appalachian Trail, assaulting them, and then dumping the bodies across state lines on the trail. Drivesdale had been repeating the same pattern for four months until the authorities in Georgia, Tennessee, Virginia, and Pennsylvania had the sense to contact the other states sheriff stations to see if there was a pattern in the type of killings that were happening on their portion of the trail. By that time the unsub had killed eleven young women. The man hunt had concluded with twenty five sheriffs, five helicopters searching for the last victim from above, and _y/n_ and Morgan tracking down the man on foot. When they had found his trailer, Keith had not attempted to injure Kelly Browning, his last victim. Morgan stayed with the hiker until Jason and Emily came to take her to the hospital. Meanwhile agent _y/l/n_ had run after Drivesdale. The unsub finally tired enough to make a bad decision in his choice of trail to attempt escape on. The man had run himself onto a lookout with a high drop. _Y/n_ had her gun pulled out and said, “Mr. Drivesdales there’s no place to go. Give this up.” Keith pulled out a pistol from his belt and said, “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I really couldn’t.” The man quickly put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. His body wracked with the impact of the bullet, and the unsub fell back off the lookout, and into the river below. A second later Derek rushed into the clearing. The other agent was afraid that the unsub had hurt _y/l/n_. With the accelerating chase over, and the case solved the team piled into the jet and returned to D.C.

It was the following day after the case and the paperwork was due by the end of the workday. Derek and Spencer entered the bullpen. Morgan walked up to _y/n_ desk and pulled The Decameron out from under the sleeping agents folded arms. Surprisingly this movement didn’t stir the sleeping woman. After a few minutes of standing over _y/n_ Derek gently patted her shoulder. The female agent jerked awake, and gripped the sides of her desk. Morgan startled a little at the sharp movement, and said, “Hey, are you alright _y/n_? After rubbing her palm over her eyes and replied, “I’m fine. I had a paper due last night and about a hundred pages of reading left before attending lecture tonight.” Spencer smiled and moved forward saying, “I’ve read The Decameron five times. If you want me to give you a summary of the pages you haven’t read yet I’d be happy to.” _Y/n_ smiled at Reid. She knew that reading that much text was going to take longer than she had. Also, she never missed an opportunity to hear Spencer flex his extensive knowledge. Therefore she replied, “That sounds great. I’ll treat you to some good coffee. You talk and I take notes. If that seems like an equal exchange to you.” Spencer smiled, trilled at the idea of getting to spend time with _y/n_. Derek could see Reid’s excitement, but refrained from saying anything about it in front of agent _y/l/n_. After an awkward moment of silence the standing agents moved toward their respective desks and started working on their own paperwork.

After another three hours _y/n_ startled awake again. She internally berated herself for only getting an hour of sleep last night. Unfortunately editing a ten page paper took longer than she had anticipated. The paper was 15% of her final grade in one of the three graduate classes she was taking at Georgetown University. She looked up at the clock and was thankful that she had only been out for ten minutes. She was longing for the day to end, and to spend an hour or two with Spencer. Speaking of the young genius, she couldn’t see him anywhere in the brightly lit desk area. She also noticed that one of her thicker, unfinished files was apparently missing. She took the approach she always did when something strange happened near her; get a cup of coffee and figure it out after the caffeine hit her. She pushed her chair out from her desk and moved toward the break room. As she approached the small coffee area that was separated from the rest of the breakroom by a wall and door on the far right that led to the coffee she craved, she heard her name brought up. The voice sounded slightly like, ‘Dave, Devin, David’ she couldn’t really remember his name at the moment. He was a new quantitative technician that made sure all the servers were up and running as they should be. He often was in the bullpen in a desperate grasp to get into Penelope's good graces. From what she heard from Garcia was that the computer analyst hated the new guy's guts. “He thinks he is so smart, smarter than everyone else, even me,” the computer genius had once told _y/n_ over drinks. _y/l/n_ stopped and waited to see if the man had something else to say and wondered who in the world he was talking to. It’s not like this Dave guy knew her at all. It only took a moment before he heard his voice again, “So did she ask you to work on her files?” After a second _y/n_ heard a voice she definitely knew, Spencer's. He replied to the comment, “No, I just wanted to help.” There was a scoff from Dave and he replied, “Well I wouldn’t put it past her to ask you to do extra work for her. She’s such a lazy person.” This type of talk shouldn’t have gotten to her, she had heard worse. But hearing some egocentric man who didn’t even know her talk about her behind her back hurt in a way she hadn’t expected. What hurt her more was what Spencer said next, “How is she lazy?” _Y/n_ sucked in a breath and tried to stop the warm tears from rolling down her face. She had been doubted by cops, by teachers in the academy, by her own family that she wasn’t capable of doing this job. She didn’t expect to find her own team doubting her. Especially not Spencer. From the way he asked it sounded like he was trying to get more information about how she just wasn’t good enough. She wanted to move away, but couldn’t move her legs, instead she slumped against the wall and heard Dave say, “She’s always asleep at her desk, she doesn’t do her work, I don’t know what she’s like in the field, but I bet it’s not great.” The silence after his statement was finished was deafening.

At least it was deafening until Spencer replied. On the other side of the wall Spencer was leaning against the counter as Devin made a rude remark about _y/n_. He furrowed his eyebrows and asked the middle aged man to elaborate. When the man replied he was just digging himself into a bigger hole. After Spence finished a swig of his coffee he cleared his throat and said, “Let me tell you something about _y/n_, first of all she performs excellently in the field. The case we just finished almost entirely was solved by her. Secondly, just because she’s new to the team doesn’t make her less valuable, in fact it makes her more valuable. She sees things in the cases and the team that we don’t. I hope that doesn’t change. Third, she’s not lazy or stupid, she’s pursuing an advanced degree in English Literature. She’s essentially condensing her master and PhD. into four years. I don’t see you reading three hundred pages a night of the literary canon plus secondary readings and trying to write a dissertation at the same time. Also, she's taking three classes this semester, which is a full load at Georgetown University. So don’t tell me that _y/n_ is lazy. She’s far from it. Also, maybe stop making observations about people you don’t know to a profiler, and especially to me.” With this Spencer brushed past the man and out into the breakroom. Spencer noticed _y/n_ leaning against the wall. Once he saw her it became exceedingly clear that she had overheard the conversation he just had with Devin. He walked quickly over to her and gently grabbed her elbow and led her away from the wall and the break room altogether. As the pair entered the hall Spencer quietly said, “I’m sorry you had to hear that in there.” After the duo entered the hallway and moved back toward the bullpen. Before they both entered the bullpen _y/n_ stopped Spencer by touching his arm lightly. The genius stopped and looked down at her. She gave him a small smile and bit her lower lip slightly before saying, “Thank you for defending me in there. It means a lot.” Spencer shook his head slightly, as if in shock, and replied, “You don’t have to thank me. That guy is an idiot and an asshole.” Reid’s word’s caused _y/l/n’s_ heart tug slightly, she smiled up at him and said, “So, are we still on for later today?” Spence smiled and nodded. With the conversation being finished for the moment he opened the glass door to the bullpen and held it for her.

An hour later _y/n_ was sipping on a warm chai latte and Spencer was going over the last fourth of Boccaccio’s plague narrative. It was raining outside, and the atmosphere in the coffee shop felt like it’s own cozy little bubble separated from the rest of the world. After Reid had finished his recap and _y/l/n_ had all her questions answered she looked up and said, “Spencer, um, I was wondering if you’d like to do this again sometime, but without the books and notetaking and all that?” The lanky agent shifted in his seat before responding, “You mean a date?” _Y/n_ smiled slightly uncomfortably, hoping she hadn’t crossed some kind of professional boundary with her colleague. She thought about her response and replied, “It doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. I would like it if I didn’t have to have the excuse of studying to spend time with you. You’re a cool guy and I’d like to know you better if you were comfortable with it.” Reid couldn’t suppress the small smile that crossed his face briefly before saying, “Sure, I’d like that a lot.” _Y/n_ looked down at her notepad to hid the redness of her cheeks from Reid. It wasn’t anything yet, but she hoped with time she could tell Spence how she truly felt about him. She reminded her self of one of her favorite quotes, ‘all in good time my love.’

#dr. spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader #derek morgan #cm #coffeeshop #spencer reid

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

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maybe? 👉👈 steve taking a really long time with college (like on one year and off one yours year, on, off, on, off) and he still doesn't really know what he wants to do and he gets really frustrated bc billy just did college all in one go and steve is taking forever and he feels down on himself? idk im feeling the whump rn???

Steve had left high school having no idea what he wanted from the rest of his life.

That’s not true, he had some idea.

He knew he wanted to leave Hawkins, follow Billy wherever he was going. He knew he wanted to be with Billy for the rest of his life, he knew he wanted to leave the past behind and make new friends, people who were kind, and fun, and didn’t bat an eye when Billy pulled him into his lap.

But that’s about it.

So when Billy graduates high school, and gets a full ride to UC Berkeley, and they move into a cheap apartment in downtown Oakland, Steve is so happy that he got out.

He gets a job waiting tables at a restaurant down the street, pays half the rent and buys the groceries while Billy’s in class.

But then two years pass, and Billy’s soaring through college, working to his degrees, plural, because he just couldn’t decide between studying English Literature or Biology with a focus in research.

So he’s majoring in both and getting a minor in Italian because then I’ll know what you’re sayin’ when you start horny babblin’.

And Steve was at the same restaurant.

True, he was assistant manager now, and it came with a pretty okay raise, and he even gets dental insurance, but he feels so stuck.

So he enrolls in community college.

He starts with some general classes, still completely unsure of what he wants to study.

Billy said it was okay to just rule out things you don’t want to study, to nearly fail a math course and know that accounting is not for you.

So when Steve finishes his first year, he at least knows what he doesn’t want to pursue.

Meanwhile Billy has an internship at a lab through Kaiser Permanente. And he can read and write Italian than Steve can.

Steve is walking home from his job at the restaurant when it happens. He’s crossing the street, and gets hit by a car.

He’s taken to the hospital, where he’s informed of a fractured spine and another concussion.

He’s told his injury could’ve been much more severe, that he will not experience paralysis, but he needs physical therapy and walking will be difficult for a while.

Their finances take a big hit.

Billy’s internship doesn’t pay super well, and with Steve being unable to work for the foreseeable future, he’s fired.

Billy has insurance through the school, but because on paper, he and Steve have no real relation, Steve’s medical bills come out of pocket.

So Steve is bedridden for months. He can’t work or get groceries, or do fucking anything but lay there.

They can’t afford physical therapy.

But Billy has a friend studying to be a PT, and she comes over every Saturday, and practices her technique on him in exchange for ten bucks and a few beers.

And so the money Steve tucked away for school is rapidly diminishing.

By the time Billy graduates, Steve is a year into recovery. He still gets dizzy at odd intervals, and his back gets stiff when it rains, but Billy gets a job right away, doing research on flu vaccines.

And Steve goes back to work.

He gets a desk job, something he won’t have to be on his feet all day for. He works reception for a message therapist, which comes with free massages, which work wonders on his back.

So in the fall, he decides to give his education another shot.

He learns that history is not for him, and that his nutrition course was fine until they began looking into how the body processes nutrients, and he was fucking lost. He takes a few business classes, thinking, hoping genetics would take over and this is something he could do.

But his dad was right to take away the job opportunity at his own firm. Steve was not cut out for this.

After a year of research, Billy is promoted three times. He ends up working on some extremely important study that Steve does not understand for the fucking life of him.

But he sits and listens every time Billy explains what he did that day, even though Steve gets so sad when Billy mentions having to kill the lab mice to study their bodies.

So Steve is two years into community college, five years into living in Oakland with Billy, and he still is lost.

He takes a semester off, working more hours, trying to save up some money.

Because Billy is beginning to think about grad school, and that shit’s not cheap.

But Billy decides to postpone that, work for a few more years, and besides, he’s caught between studying something to put him in a research field, or just straight up going to medical school to study infectious disease.

Because Billy could. He’s smart enough for medical school, smart enough to research and be a doctor.

And Steve has a smushy spine and half a degree in nothing.

A semester off turns into a year.

A year and a semester.

Two years.

They’ve been in California for seven years, and Billy gets into grad school in San Diego. They move south and Billy spends late nights pursuing a Masters in Immunology.

And Steve works the front desk at a pediatrician’s office.

He’s flipping through a course catalog from the San Diego Community College when Billy comes home from his new job, the position he got after applying to only three labs.

He kissed the top of Steve’s head, moving to grab himself a beer from the fridge.

“You thinkin’ of going back?”

“I don’t know.” Steve slid the catalog closed. “Is it even worth it?”

“That’s something you have to decide.” Billy sat down, sliding the catalog towards him. Steve had crossed off the classes he had already taken, the ones he new he wouldn’t like. “And you know, going to school isn’t the only option. You could get an apprenticeship, master a trade.”

“I can’t do anything where I need to bend over for really any length of time. So that rules out plumber, and car mechanic, and anything physical like construction, or landscaping or even general contracting is right out.”

Steve could feel the old shame, the doubt and the self hatred crawling up his spine.

“I have nothing to offer. I have no discerning skills, and in seven years I’ve only made it through two years of goddamn community college, and here you are, ripping through grad school like a fourth degree is easy.”

“Stevie, you’ve got a lot to offer. We just gotta find something that suits you.” He took Steve’s pen, turning to the back page of the catalog. “Okay, we’re gonna write down all of you strengths, and think of career paths that could fit those. I’ll go first, you’re extremely caring. You’d be good at any career where you care for people.”

“But I can’t study nursing or something, I barely understood my biology 101 course. Plus, nurses are strong. I can’t lift more than like, thirty pounds.”

“There’re way more caring fields than nursing, Pretty Boy. Although I would love if you were my nurse.” Billy smirked at him, leaning in to plant a sloppy kiss to Steve’s cheek as he rolled his eyes. “Another strength: your emotional intelligence is through the fucking roof.” He wrote it down. “Okay, I’ve said tow, so you say one.”

“Um, I think that I’m good at making people laugh?”

“Yes! You are. Perfect.” Billy scribbled it down. “You’re a good leader.”

“I’m pretty good at reading people.” Billy wrote Intuitive, can smell a douchebag from a mile away.

“You’re good under pressure.”

“Sometimes.”

“Every time I’ve seen. You’re good at keeping calm and keeping others calm.”

“I guess.”

“Nah, Stevie. Positives only. Say a strength.”

“I’m, uh, I’m good at, bilingual?” Billy stared at him. “Like, I’m bilingual.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think that was English, even.” Steve slapped his chest, Billy laughed. “I’m joking. You are bilingual. You’re also really good at making others feel safe.”

“I was always pretty alright at public speaking.”

“You’ve got a great eye for detail.”

“I’m good at teamwork, and delegating.”

“You’re really compassionate, too.” Billy drew a line under the strengths side. “Okay, so now we’ve got some of your strengths, think about what you’d want in a job, and we can match everything up and think about some careers that could fit.” Steve nodded, racking his brain.

“Um, I would want to work with kind people, I would kind of like to do something, you know, worthwhile. I’d like to be in charge of something. Like it’s fine if I have a boss to answer to, but I’d like to be fairly independent.”

“I already have so many ideas.”

“Lay ‘em on me.” Steve sat back, closing his eyes to try and picture everything Billy threw out.

“I’ve actually always thought you’d be a really good teacher. Especially if you did like, kindergarten. Just got to be around little kids all day.” Steve could actually see it. “I also think you’d be a could social worker, like to work with Child Protective Services, or something. Um, you’d be good at even planning. Or I think you’d be really good working at a nonprofit of some kind. Maybe you could be the event planner for a nonprofit.”

And Steve was sitting there, and suddenly, he had four career paths, just sitting right in front of him. Four super attainable career paths.

“Wait, wait those make sense.” Billy beamed at him.

“Yeah, that’s because I know you, Pretty Boy.” Billy opened the catalog. “So, I think if you choose to enroll, you should pick a few classes, like, Intro to Social Work, Early Childhood Education 100, and maybe like, Sociology, and see from there.”

Steve stared at the course descriptions for what Billy circled.

“Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry this has taken me so long.”

“It’s okay. Everyone is on a different timeline. And it’s not like you got to explore options in high school. You were told business until your dad decided that nevermind. So it’s understandable that this took you a minute. Plus, you went through hell with your back.”

Steve sat up straight, stretching out his back.

“But, I mean, the back thing kinda happened to you too, and you still made it through all your schooling.”

“Sure, I watched you go through it, but I was not in the pain you were. And like, emotionally, it fucking sucked to watch the love of my goddamn life go through something, and I couldn’t even afford therapy. Like, I felt so helpless, but that’s nothing to what you went through literally experiencing it.” Steve took Billy’s hand, linking their fingers together, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“You did the best you could. Everything was shit for like, that whole year.”

“I cannot telly you how many times I would go into an individual study room in the library and just like, sob for a while.And then I’d get so mad at myself, thinking of you at home, hurting and not even able to get yourself out of bed, and I’d race home feeling like shit.”

Steve scrubbed his fingers through Billy’s hair. He had cut it a while ago, kept it short these days.

“You were doing everything you could for me. I would just sit in bed all day, and think about how amazing you are. Like I would just think about all the good times we’ve had together, and how much I love you.”

“That explains why we didn’t fight for like, that whole year.” Steve laughed. Billy leaned to kiss him softly.

“And you know, even now we’ve done this, there’s still no rush on you. You don’t have to go back to school this year, of this decade, or anytime until you’re ready. Until you want to.”

“Well now, I feel like there’s a fucking light at the end of the tunnel. I’m almost, excited. Is this how you feel? Excited to go to school?”

“Welcome to the nerd life, Sweet Thing.” Billy drained the last of his beer. “You wanna go out tonight? Celebrate?”

“Like, go out to dinner, or go out?”

“Oh, just like dinner. Be home by eight thirty, in bed by nine, missionary with the lights off, and asleep by nine fifteen.”

“Sign me the fuck up.”

#billy is based a lot on my sister in this #and steve is based on her best friend #any life path is valid #there's kind of a lot of set up but yeah #also i live for them settling down and becoming a totally boring mundane couple but they're just SO HAPPY toghether that's my shit #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrive #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

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blackenedinsomnia · 5 years

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A Bond Forged through Fire & Steel.

Hey, hope everyone has a decent holiday. I have been working on this piece for a couple of days and just wanted to get this out here. This follows my 2 OC’s Lucas Von Richer and Lana Schmitt, going about in their lives as normally as they can. Note: Lucas was used in my second Kirimina fanfic, which is also on my page however the TLDR is; he is a UA hero grad, with heightened intelligence and agility who’s hero name is Crossguard.

Enjoy! ________________________________________________________________

It was 0600 hours above the seas of Japan, the sun laid out a path of light across the cotton-like carpet. Lucas sat there in his chair tapping away at his laptop, finishing his weekly report on his patients. The interior of his jet was lavish, a white body spanned across the walling of the plane with a wooden undercut, six leather seats filled the jet for other passengers, the flooring finished the plane with a brown carpet.

Lucas took a sip of his coffee, then laid the cup on the white plate that accompanied it. A woman came from the pilot’s cabin and walked over toward Lucas and sat in the chair opposite him. “Lucas,” she said tapping his kneecap “We’re making our descent to Haneda Airport now” she smiled, her white teeth glistening in the sun. Laying her hand on his metal prosthetic and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Sure Lana, let me just save this report and I’ll switch off” he smiled back. Lana was a bright individual, she had long flowing dark ginger hair and had hazel eyes. She wore a cream turtle-neck jumper and a white lab coat.

The plane slowly descended towards the runway, slicing through the clouds like butter. The wheels scratched the runway as the plane came to a stop. Stepping off the plane, he took in the fresh air, reminiscing, he felt he was back home again. “Well Lucas you seem to be happy, this is the first time I’ve seen your shoulders relax” she giggled handing his laptop bag.

“Has it been that long?” he smiled slinging the bag around his shoulder.

“Well were to first Lucas, I’ve noticed that there is a lot on the schedule,” she said flipping through her phone’s diary.

“Well we’re supposed to be meeting principle Nezu for a meeting with other U.A teachers,” he said walking towards the entrance to the arrival section of the airport.

Wait, Lucas! Are you going to become a U.A teacher?” she exclaimed

“Well that is one of the reasons why and I’m here to see some old friends as well” he grinned.

Two hours had passed, Lucas and Lana stumbling out of the taxi like zombies. “Good god that took way too long” he pushed his voice out with last exasperated breath.

“Yeah, I know, I feel like a wet rag, it’s super warm” Lana stretched her arms and back out.

“Well at least you’re here” Principle Nezu walked up jauntily “How was your Journey?” he asked.

“As you can see Mr Nezu, not that great, I feel like I pulled a cable” Lucas chuckled “I hope I am not late?” he said realizing the time.

“Not at all Lucas, we’re still awaiting All Might and Creati to join us, so you aren’t the only ones” he smiled. “Now please if you may follow me” he gestured to the entrance. Lucas smiled as a wave of nostalgia flooded him walking through the entrance of the school. Walking through the hallways past the big door of Class – 1A, a small smile perked up reminiscing of the time he spent in the same corridors.

“Hey Lucas” Lana whispered in his ear

“What’s up Lana?” he whispered back

“To be honest, I wasn’t expecting the principle to be ah… well…” she paused trying to find her words.

“A small polar bear-like creature” he chuckled back

“Yeah!” she snapped her fingers, giggling away

“Well we’re here” Nezu opened the door and there sat around a rectangular table was Eraser Head, Present Mic, Creati, Battle Fist and All Might.

“Sorry for the wait everyone” Lucas bowed in embarrassment

“No, it’s fine Crossguard, you travelled pretty far to be here and on such short notice” All Might stood up and extended his hand out. “How have things been on I Island?” he said as Lucas’s metallic hand grasped his.

“It’s been fine, tiresome but fine” Lucas smiled.

“And who is that woman with you Crossguard?” Creati said pointing to Lana. He turned around to see Lana, frantically breathing behind her briefcase, getting redder every second.

“She spoke to me!” she squealed, she ran over to Creati and pulled her up from her seat. “I’m your biggest fan! I’ve read all of your interviews, I followed you on your campaign to put more funding into the science industry and your motivations have really inspired me and…” she paused looking where she was standing. Lucas looked at her with a negative expression on his face. “Oh, I am so sorry, I should really know my bounds” she squealed bowing apologetically.

“It’s fine, I’m glad that you view me as that way and I always have fans coming up to me like that as well” she smiled “It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?” she asked.

“Oh my name is Lana Schmitt, I’m the assistant researcher to Luca… I mean Crossguard” she smiled extending her hand in a friendly gesture.

“Well it’s very nice to meet you anyway Lana” she extended her hand and shook Lana’s.

“Well now that everyone is here, we can discuss why you’re here Crossguard,” Nezu said hopping onto his chair swivelling in toward Lucas. “You’re here to make sure that the student’s here at UA academy, feel safe and are given the correct education,” he said taking a sip of his green tea. “I’ve brought everyone here to welcome you to UA and congratulate yourself on accepting the position of Homeroom teacher for Class 1-B” he clapped, and applause followed.

“Congrats Crossguard I can’t wait to see whose class will come out on top” Aizawa plainly stated

“Thank you Aizawa, but it’s Lucas or alternatively you can call me Richer, whatever works for you” he grinned shooting a competitive stare.

“Well let’s all get sat down and finish this meeting, I need to get home to my cats and I really need to pick Eri up” Aizawa groaned

“Right you are” Lucas replied, the meeting went on for 4 hours and covered procedures, what the curriculum was and who was in each class after the meeting concluded Lucas walked out toward the gates with Lana.

“Uh Lucas how are we getting to the apartment?” she asked

“I’ve asked Nezu if we could have a carpool to take us to the house, I picked out for us, and it should be here soon,” he said taking off his glasses and cleaned his lenses

“Oh okay,” she said gripping her briefcase around her chest, the wind blowing through her long ginger hair.

“Hey, Lana, when you were about to say my name to Yaoyorozu, why did you stop?” he turned to her putting his glasses on.

“Oh well, I thought it would’ve been rude” she flustered

“Is that so?” he said as the car pulled up beside them, he went and opened the door and let Lana in. The car ride was 20 minutes in total for the both to arrive at their makeshift home. Lana was the first to step out and have a look at the new accommodation they would be living in for the foreseeable future. She had gotten a file of the house from the properties the previous owner and started to read it.

“I know we’re dating and everything, but this seems to surreal” she whispered in denial

A 2-bedroom house with an open kitchen that extended into the dining room, two bathrooms and an ensuite bathroom on the main bedroom, which complimented it with a balcony overlooking a motorway. They set down their luggage in the entrance of the house and went to look at the house.

Later on, in the day shopping was delivered to their new home. Lucas awoke from his slumber on the sofa and checked his watch. “18:45, is it really that late?” Lucas whispered “Lana, honey!?” he shouted walking to the beginning of the stairs shouting up to her “What do you want for Tea?” Lana walked to the top of the stairs standing there in a pink bathrobe.

“There should be some steak in the freezer and some potatoes in the garage, or…” she unravelled the bathrobe “you can come with me and we order take out?” she whispered seductively walking away towards the bathroom. A wave of heat overcame Lucas and walked up the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt and making his way towards her.

He took off his shirt and grabbed her by the waist and kissed her passionately on the lips. Taking off his trousers and underwear they paused and looked at one another, this was one of the first times they had privacy and some time together.

His metallic hand firmly plastered itself on her back, she recoiled in shock. “Lucas! Stop doing that, you know I hate it when your arm is cold” she yelled her hair flaring up into flames

“That’s why I do it, it annoys you and…” he leaned over and whispered, “but it brings out your fiery side” she looked at him, her flames extinguished and her face blushed redder than her ginger hair. He picked her up and placed her in the bath, squeezing himself around her body, he let her rest her head on his chest.

“I love this” he whispered to the quiet Lana. “This house being with you, settled, it feels relaxing” he smiled at her pulling her closer.

“You’re a big dummy, you do realise that right?” she sheepishly responded, Lucas, chuckled to himself and kissed Lana on her head.

“Well we’ll have takeout and then we’ll get down to business” he whispered again

It was midnight and the house was quiet from the kitchen to the upstairs area, Takeout bags were messily straddled on the dining room table and clothes were cascaded on the walk up to the main bedroom where the two slept. The covers were covering half of Lucas’s bottom, Lana slept peacefully with the covers covering her body.

Lucas tossed and turned in his bed, his metallic fingers moving frantically. Suddenly he jolted up with a shock, searing pain shot through his right. His arm spasmed frantically, he disconnected his arm from his body, banging to the floor; the arm moving out of control like a dying animal. He grabbed his phone and turned off the arm, it’s movement ceasing.

Lucas fell over onto the floor, he laid there for a moment and started to regain his bearings. He was still sweating, he slowly stood up, grabbed his lighter and his cigars from his coat pocket and walked out onto the balcony. He lit his cigarette and breathed in, the ember burning away till the halfway point. He exhaled as smoke billowed out into the night sky.

“Really Lucas, I thought you quit?” Lana looked at him worryingly from the doorway

“Yeah sorry Lana, it’s the only thing that takes the edge off,” he said rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb.

“Did it happen again?” she asked walking up behind him wrapping her arms around his chest.

“Yeah” he whispered.

It was 5 years ago when the incident happened, it was on I island a horrible accident that changed both of their lives. Lucas was a scientist there researching how to heal wounds with different types of technologies and makeshift inventions. And Lana was the patient, her quirk was out of control and super volatile. Whenever she took on pain, she could convert it into raw power, which she can use in any way she seemed fit too.

Lucas sat there in his office, the monitors light blinding the dark enveloped room. “Today is the 16th of May 2030, my name is Dr Lucas Von Richer; this is test number 22. Patient is Lana Schmitt, a quirk user wanting to control her quirk.” Lucas took a sip of his coffee from the paper cup on the righthand side of his desk. Lana was laying down on a metal table.

“Lana is also hooked up to a shocking device that’ll charge her quirk up to max power she can disconnect at any time by pressing the button on the remote strapped to her hand.” He looked through behind the monitor to the window.

“Lana are you sure you want to do this?” Lucas still worried at what it’ll do to her.

“I’ll be fine Lucas, I need to do this,” she said in determination

“Okay Patient is co-operative with the experiment, the camera is now recording” he typed away at his keyboard. Lana laid there in discomfort as her hair started to flare up. “Okay Lana, vitals are stable, shocks should be increasing slowly, we’re now hitting 30%” Lucas informed her. His computer read her quirk output and her stress levels. Discomfort turned into distress, Lana’s skin started to light up in a bright orange glow as the voltage increased, the remote disintegrated as the heat of the room increased.

“Argh!” she screamed in pain.

“Lana!” Lucas screamed trying to stop the voltage. It wasn’t working, Lucas was panicking. Her quirk output was overloading the sensors and her emotions were going out of control. “Shit, shit, shit” he quickly scurried to the door and forced it open. The heat was unbearable “Lana!” he yelled as the room was flooded with light. He reached out desperately to help her, his heroism blinding him.

“Lucas stay away…” before she could finish, the room exploded. 30 minutes passed, and Lucas regained conscious, a seething pain blistered his right shoulder. Opening his eyes, he could only see smoke and red flashing lights all around the room. He felt weak, looking to his right he was haemorrhaging blood from his missing appendage. Moving some rubble, he walked towards a first aid kit on the floor. His scarred and burnt body making it hard to move around, he found a capsule in the kit and applied it to his wound sealing it.

“Argh goddammit!” he yelled in pain, biting down on his teeth. “Lana!” he yelled in desperation running into the testing lab. The room was burnt to a crisp with Lana perfectly preserved in the middle of the room. The walls still exposing mass amounts of heat. He ran to her ignoring that and checked her pulse. “She’s… fine?” he gasped.

Just then the door was melted down and two heroes ran in. “Lucas you here?” Kirishima yelled.

“Yes… cough, cough… there’s another person in here as well!” Lucas yelled both heroes ran over into the other room.

“Lucas what the hell happened to you!” Mina screamed

“I need to get her to safety” Lucas slurred the adrenaline slowly fading from his body. He started to slowly drop down onto the black ground.

“Lucas you need to stop, you’re too hurt,” Mina said picking up Lana “Kiri pick up Lucas and take him to the med bay,” she said.

“No I need to…” his last few words, pushed out as he slowly closed his eyes and fainted from the pain.

Day became night and Lucas had awoken from when he passed out. He sat there with bandages on the right side of his face. He sat there, worried about Lana he couldn’t think straight.

“I’m so clueless, damn it” he bit in anger, tears stinging the slightly blistered side of his face. The door opened to his room and a Doctor walked in with Lana in a wheelchair, she frantically wheeled herself out of doctor’s grip.

“Lucas!” she screamed with relief, she hugged him, grasping him tight with her joy. “I thought I killed you” she blubbered tears running down her face. She rolled back and looked at his arm and face, she gasped in shock. “Did I do this to you?” she said quietly.

“No this was not your fault Lana, it was over my arrogance and ignorance for the worst to happen” he wiped the tears from her face. “I can repair my burns with my nano-bots, however…” he lifted her head by her chin “I’ll need some help with a few things” he chuckled.

She looked up at him her face still damp from her tears “As long as you help me as well” she smiled.

Through the past few years, Lucas had been working on the metal arm that earned him the name Crossguard, Lana started to learn over Lucas and she became his assistant to his research and helped him wherever they went. Soon they became close, their work saved hundreds of heroes’ lives.

A dynamic duo forged in fire and steel.

Lucas woke up with his phone buzzing on his bedside table, lifting the covers he sat upright on the edge of the bed. Looking at the light peering through the cream blinds of the bedroom. He looked over to Lana, peacefully sleeping, he smiled; got up and went to take a shower.

After he finished his shower he went downstairs invest and smart trousers turned the hob on and started to prepare to cook. Switching on the radio it turned onto the news.

“Today 30 people have been injured and 5 have been killed in a train bombing in downtown Musutafu that happened late last night. Witness reports seem to indicate that the men involved were part of a cult or organisation.” Lucas listened along cracking 2 eggs into the frying pan whilst the sizzling bacon cracked and popped, concerned about the news.

“Other witnesses have said that they heard them scream “For the Eye” before detonating the bombs, we go to Hayunji Station with a personal statement from Detective Tsukauchi,” the newscaster said as Lucas took two plates out of the cupboard and placed them on the dining room table.

“I can understand the worrying from the public, and we’re trying to crack down on this organisation with different hero agencies. I’d advise the public to keep an eye out for men in all black with a big red eye on the back of their suits. If these are seen please contact the authorities and we’ll deal with them. Thank You”

Lucas poured 2 glasses of fresh orange and placed a long plate of toast out on the table as well. Turning off the radio he laid out the other condiments. The breakfast was made, with 3 rashes of bacon each, 1 fried egg each with a side of fried tomatoes. He burst the yolk and on Lana’s plate, the yellow liquid seeping out onto the rest of the egg.

He heard her footsteps coming down the stairs, Lucas sat in his chair and started to eat. “Hey honey, how is the arm?” Lana trying to combat jetlag, she stood there in her underwear with one of Lucas’s creased work shirts, her hair looked like untwined rope.

“The pain has gone but I haven’t put it back on yet,” he said drinking from his glass

“So, you’re saying that you did this all with one arm?” she asked scratching her head, sitting down at the table biting into a piece of toast.

“I had been living without my right arm for 1 month” he laughed.

“Well what’s on the agenda today?” she asked poking at her egg

“Well I need to go back to the school as it is opening today so I need to be off soon,” he said placing the fork down on his plate. “However, I do want some help with reaching the arm” he embarrassingly asked.

After Lana finished her breakfast they both got changed.

Lucas re-equipped his arm, he grabbed his trench coat and went to the carpool. “Lucas! Wait!” Lana yelled. “I made you lunch for today! Think of it as a thank you for breakfast” she giggled kissing him on his bearded cheek. “Have a good first day!” she joyfully shouted as the car pulled away.

In the car, he opened up his phone and had a look at the file sent to him on Class 1-B. “I wonder what these fine young heroes have in store for me?” he grinned.

#bnha oc #my hero academia #bnha #fanfic

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cosmosogler · 5 years

Text

i keep putting off talking about my Many Feelings About Dead Pets and i know it’s not helpful but thinking about it makes me so sad.

i miss snoopy so much. i miss genevieve and i know i’m never going to see her again and i couldn’t be there to make sure things went as smoothly as they could when she was dying. i know she was laying there suffering and she was probably hanging in there so hard because she thought i might come back. because we belonged together.

that’s something i can never give her, now. that’s something she never got to have. this is just how her life went and it will be how her life and death went, forever.

i can’t describe how angry i am at my dad. he’s a coward. i can’t stand it. i can’t stand that there’s nothing i can do about it and there’s nothing i can do for eve. she didn’t deserve that.

there’s nothing that feels pathetic quite like starting to cry while you’re trying to eat food. or crying while you’re doing homework. i keep feeling like i’m going to throw up. i’m so upset. nothing is really making it better. it just keeps coming in tidal waves.

i know if i talked to people i might feel a little better but i don’t really want to spend energy interacting with people. there’s lots of people i LIKE talking to... but when i say “ok, well we’re feeling bad, so let��s pull up a friend’s chat window and say hi” my brain screams “NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

and then when someone blessedly comes up to ME to say hi my brain screams “NO!!!!!!!!!!!! I DON’T WANT *THAT* PERSON” no matter who it is.

even close friends!

i haven’t even said anything about what’s going on with me on facebook... and i’m usually the first to complain publicly about my life. i guess, when usually i want to be around people, lately i just feel like i want to be left alone. even though i still want to be around people. it’s not a good combination.

how am i supposed to “feel” all of this? how do you “process” “an emotion”? my psychiatrist said i should do some kind of, like, memorial for my pets. but even thinking about it makes me start crying a lot. doesn’t matter if i’m cooking, or biking to campus, or even just laying in bed. thinking about writing a letter to snoopy? boom, instant tears. what would i even say? “i love you and i’m sorry”? do i need to write that down?

i feel so embarrassed about earnest expressions of, like, affection. most emotions in general but ESPECIALLY genuinely caring about something and saying something about it makes me feel super guilty if i see it again later. doesn’t matter what it is. if i tell a friend “i love you” i get antsy about it later. i can announce to the world “i love my puppy” and i’ll mean it, but if i try to say something, like, specific about eve? if i try to convey in words the exact extent to which i care?

god forbid i try to say something POETIC about it. or use some kind of metaphor or arrangement of words that might not mean anything grammatically, but emotionally resonates with me.

and then talking on twitter or here about how much i’ve been crying doesn’t feel good either. it kind of half feels like a joke. i joke that i cry when i see a dog on tv. how could i not joke about every time i do it regardless of context. i have to make it not matter. if it matters it’s bad... i don’t want people to worry about me... i feel pathetic... i’m just acting pathetic for attention... etc etc.

i decided against it, but yesterday i was gonna make some kind of comment about the emotions the characters experience in my comic and the ones i’m experiencing right now. like, “good thing i wrote out how they all deal with grief ahead of time!! because i totally nailed it.” or, “haha wow i wrote a whole story about how it’s bad to pretend you’re not feeling your emotions and then i immediately proceed to do everything possible to avoid my emotions!”

i’m a real winner.

i drew for a while today... i got 2/3 of a page done, which is a good solid pace for one day. i had to stop because i started feeling really restless and irritable about it. like, i wanted to keep going, but i also very much Did Not Want to keep going. it’s like that with the little written bit i’ve been working on, too... i want to write it, i want to tell my story and i want to express myself with some art, but i also just. i don’t want to do anything at all. i just want to throw up and cry a lot.

but i’ve got things to do... and i don’t like crying or throwing up. they feel bad. and life will keep going on without me if i don’t try to keep up. not that it matters. it’s not like they can double fail me out of the grad program. i haven’t been keeping up with my grading, which is like the one thing that is an actual obligation to people outside of myself. homework is making me miserable.

my psychiatrist recommended i spend more days doing absolutely nothing except things that make me happy, just to try to rest, but...

nothing is making me very happy. i don’t want to do anything. i have to spend a huge amount of energy just to get my game console turned on. the weather’s been kind of grubby so i haven’t wanted to go for a bike ride, let alone spent energy trying to convince myself to do it. it took me a lot of psyching myself up just to watch some youtube videos i had in my bookmarks. absolutely miserable.

vanessa got me to go to the medieval fair with her last weekend, but outside of that no one’s really approached me about keeping me busy. i feel kind of abandoned and isolated. even though i don’t even really want to talk to anyone. ian grabbed chipotle with me on friday night. that was nice. but it was also my idea and i had to get myself to club and then sit down for the whole three hours. i also read out chapter 3 of my comic, and THAT took a huge investment of my energy...

at least people liked it.

ruby from the discord channel has been leaving a lot of very nice and thoughtful comments on the art that i post there, and on one of the side comics i drew. owl has also been sending me long and very nice messages most days... there are people there. i just... still feel really bad.

so it comes back around to “i should probably do something to officially ‘grieve’ for my friends” but i guess i don’t feel ready. i don’t know what to say. i don’t know what there is TO say. thinking about it, thinking about starting or even just the concept makes me cry. then i want to avoid it. maybe it’s too soon... but i know it won’t be healthy if it is “too soon” forever. i should probably do something at some point.

i guess i can trust myself to get around to it whenever i feel ready. i am a person of action. i feel comfortable saying that about myself. so if i’m not doing it, it’s probably because i’m not ready. right...? i do things when i’m ready to do them... even if i don’t really want to.

i wonder if that’s true or if i use it to justify putting things off. maybe it’s a little of both. maybe it’s another stick i just use to beat myself over the head even though i’m doing a fine job.

haha. “people like my comic and really relate to blue? better beat myself up because WHAT IF I STOP DOING IT GOOD ENOUGH?” “i get the things on my to-do list done when i can, and can trust myself to get my chores / grieving done when i have the energy for it? WHAT IF I HAD THE ENERGY FOR IT ALL ALONG AND I’M JUST LAZY? LAZY!! SO LAZY!!!”

“but if you just tried harder...”

it always comes back to that, doesn’t it. if i just... ţ̻̭͉͐̑̍ͅr͈̫͇͚̦͇̥ͮͧ͊̇i̠͚̹̖͓̣̽͂e̩̲̯̩d̦͎͉̭̺̮ͤ̆̍ͮ͆͗ͅ ͛̆̓̓͂ͩͪ̀ ́͑ͭh̢͔̮̼͎̾̂̓͛̈͆̇ ̛͕̦̖̩̿a̺̹͓̳̮̹͠ ̼͓͕̝̘͎͙ͦ̐ŕ̉ͤ҉̣̬͉̼ͅ ̧̺̮ͦ͂̅ͮd̕ ̣̩̠͔ͯ̉ͣͩ̆̓e̝͛͌ͥ ̺͚̲̺̰̥̈ͫrͪ̓ͩ҉̼̭̟͕ͅ.............

if i tried harder... what? my dog wouldn’t be dead? my cat? i would still be in my phd program? i would have a job? i would be finished with chapter 4, which i wanted to be done with by the end of last year??

could i even try harder? i feel like i’m going at 100%. can i try harder? i don’t know how. i don’t know how to do anything different from what i’m doing (other than, like, not doing things, or being an asshole. i can do those things... i can also not do them, and i am currently trying very hard to not do them).

i know that my trying isn’t good enough. i guess that’s the source of my uncertainty and my guilt. it’s not good enough. how do i make it good enough? will it ever be good enough? maybe not... where does that leave me?

i’ve been thinking about something from group therapy for the last entire week. one person said they were jealous of their peers. i asked what that meant for them. they said it mostly felt like being really frustrated with themself.

i said... i said something like “oh i feel like that all the time but i don’t call it jealousy.” and... that’s true.

i’m so afraid of doing something bad or feeling a Bad Emotion that i’ve been trying so hard to reframe all the thoughts and emotions. but... the word fits. i feel jealous of all the successful people. i don’t like admitting that, it doesn’t make me feel very good at all, but it feels true.

i’m jealous of all the people who get more followers than me more quickly, even though i feel like i’m doing everything that they do. i’m jealous of my classmates who can pass tests even though i’m the one helping them with homework (yeah i know it goes both ways but IT GOES BOTH WAYS, I AM THE ONE HELPING SOMETIMES, I AM THE ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS, SOME OF THE TIME, AND YET THEY ARE IN THE PROGRAM AND I AM NOT).

i don’t like this about myself. i don’t like these things. i don’t like feeling like this. i know that’s just how it is and i gotta deal with it. but i don’t know how to change how i feel about it. i’m not even jealous of the skill or anything. i know how good i am at physics, at art, at telling stories... i’m jealous of the attention i guess. knowing that about myself is makin me miserable.

miserable on top of snoopy. on top of eve. on top of how my group therapists broke The Rules. on top of the school obligations. on top of losing the whole reason i moved out here, to get an education... on top of my brother sinking deeper into his abhorrent political and moral identity. on top of my dad being a coward, on top of mom jumping down my throat to get a new cat and get a job and get all these things done and just try harder. on top of hating eating food because it makes me so sick half the time. on top of not getting any sleep, not enough sleep for so long. on top of every one of the hundreds of minor inconveniences and annoying things that pop up every single day. on top of feeling lonely and isolated and unable to keep myself, like, socially stimulated i guess. i’m tired and restless and exhausted and agitated and i never get any rest.

i feel like, no matter how hard i work to be a good person, no matter how much time i spend plugging up all the holes in the dam with my fingers and “fake it til you make it” and “you are what you practice” i’m still going to just be bad and worthless. i’ll mess up at some point and everyone will realize how much i suck and then they’ll all leave. it only takes one slip up.

i know tumblr’s whole “callout culture” thing gets to me. i don’t even... do any of the major “talking points” that come up with that sort of thing. but i know how easy it is to just make it up or take something i said out of context. i’ve been physically beaten up over it before, taking my words out of context... it’s not just tumblr that stresses me out even though i know tumblr specifically is SUPER not helpful. i know how dangerous it is to be queer-ish and female. participating in a fandom again feels like i’m throwing myself out into a spotlight. or maybe a microscope light. i know attention is bad. but i want attention. but i know it’s bad. but i want people to see what i made. but i know it’s bad...............

i miss my kitty. i loved her so much. i can’t get over that at the end she was trying to comfort me. i miss diogi. i miss brushing her and all those little moments where she seemed truly happy under the anxiety. i miss genevieve. i loved her more than anything. and i could show her that, i know she knew that, but i couldn’t show her forever like i wanted to. i wanted to be with her forever. i know that’s not how it works, but deep down it’s what i wanted...

#ugfhhhghghhh the sadness #dead pets

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ricky-najjar · 4 years

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About Me

When I was growing up, it was expected that I would become a doctor. Since I could practically remember my mother and father kept introducing me as “Future Dr. Najjar.” It was a pair of shoes I knew I couldn’t fill in, I wasn’t particularly gifted in biology, nor any sort of math. I was forced to go to tutoring every day when I was in elementary school, they hoped it would knock some sense into me then. By the time I was fourteen, my parents dream of me becoming a doctor became less realistic.

I grew interested in reading at a young age, I was picking up books well above my age group since I was seven. By the time I was ten, I found myself bored of fiction and started working on biographies, historical non-fiction, even reading encyclopedias to keep myself informed. I was eleven years old when I read my first Abraham Lincoln book. The first of the collection was 800-pages, it was considered to be the “end all” of biographies for this great president. I read that in a month, and the second one in six weeks. It was around then I consider my love for history to have blossomed into a full obsession. Every year for my birthday and Christmas I begged for another book, when I had my fill of Lincoln I went after Jefferson Davis, Ulysees S Grant, Robert E Lee, and the Civil War entirely. I started making connections with them, comparing the author’s thesis as to why this horrible American tragedy occured. For my senior project in high school, I wrote and presented a paper on the continuing effects from the Civil War. Not only did it gain attention in my district, but to the rest of Pennsylvania as it was published in the newspaper the following week. I was given a scholarship to continue my studies in college. While I was ecstatic to major in History at the University of Pennsylvania, I knew my parents were disappointed.

College was a different experience altogether, I had to say goodbye to my family and friends every semester in order to live on campus. Out of everyone, it was the hardest to say goodbye to Elisabeth Robinson, the friend I’ve had since I could walk. We were two different sides of the same misunderstood coin. Her parents had similar dreams for her but she chose a different path. I was really the only one who understood her, and her anger issues that stemmed from her parents. She would visit me any chance she got, each time it was known that her parent’s anger against her and themselves was wearing down on her. When I was living in my own apartment by my junior year I offered her a chance to stay, and she denied due to her own dreams taking her elsewhere. It was for the best, at that point I was studying for my GREs and getting ready to go to grad school.

I graduated Magna Cum Laude with my Bachelor’s Degree in History in May of 2008. With that I was given the opportunity to finish my schooling at George Washington University in Washington D.C. It was prestigious, at least in regards to working in the museum industry. A degree from there would open many doors for me. My family threw a large graduation party, only because my cousin Karim had also graduated from Yale - top of his class and in molecular biology. When it was our chance to give our thank you speeches he went first, telling everyone about his plans to become a surgeon and bring our family name up in the world. When it was my turn to give one, I simply thanked my mother and father for pushing me to my absolute limit in getting my degree. I can still see my father sighing and taking a long swing from his drink.

Leaving the area was the best decision I made in life, I felt like I finally became my own person in Washington D.C. It was a nice change of pace to be surrounded by people who loved history just as much as I did. Those two years of my life went by quickly, and before I knew it, it was time to defend everything I had been working on since I could remember. My thesis was a continuation of everything I had read up on since I was young, it was something I grew to be passionate about and protected at all cost. When I was hit with the questions from everyone in the group, I instantly had an answer as soon as it was asked. My professors were impressed, proud, and everything else that they should be. When I returned the news to my parents, they expressed some sort of happiness - just not to the same extent.

I came home for a week after I walked across the stage one last time. My mother insisted on throwing another graduation party despite my pleas not to. It wasn’t nearly as big, and most of the people there used it as an excuse to drink without judgement at four in the afternoon. I hid in my room for most of it, reading my own thesis for the hundredth time to myself. Despite what everyone else thought of my degree, this was something I could be proud of for the rest of my life. I was asleep when I heard a faint knock on my door, and without warning Kathleen Robinson entered my room. She expressed how sorry she was that Scott and Elisabeth couldn’t attend, citing that they both were at different parts of the world. I didn’t really care, considering I had lost contact with Lizzie after she hastily made a decision to move to Brazil and do missionary work. I couldn’t tell how drunk Mrs. Robinson was, but she seemed so sure of herself when she started coming on to me. Despite my best efforts to push her away, we ended up together that night.

I tried to stay in Washington for as long as I could, getting a mediocre job during my first summer out of school. Money became too tight, my loans were starting to collect up, ultimately it forced me to move back home. I was thankful that a former professor pulled some strings to get me a manager’s position at the Museum of the American Revolution back at home. During my time at home Mrs. Robinson continued to show her interest in me by coming over every day to “speak to my mother.” When she went to the kitchen that's when her true intentions started, telling me how handsome I’ve gotten over the years, how she’s missed me, stuff that made my skin crawl at first. The more she came over, the more comfortable I got with her. She ultimately won this sick game she created with me through persuasion, all while her family and my mother and father remained clueless on it.

I lost any remaining respect I had for myself in those few months. Any time I tried to breakaway she pulled me back in, telling me I would be worthless without her. I started to believe her, even going as far as agreeing with what she was telling me. I am worthless. Hopeless. No one could ever love me like she did. I started lying to my parents as to where I was, and when they questioned I argued that I was an adult and could go wherever I pleased. If Mr.Robinson was away on a business trip, it was almost expected I would come over. That first year back home is almost a blur to me now, one that would continue to haunt me for the rest of my life.

Elisabeth finally came home, and with nowhere to go she moved back in with her parents. Things got complicated from there. Her mother tried to find different ways to invite me over, later at night, during my lunch, sometimes she would come to my house unannounced and demanded my attention. My cracking point was when Lizzie invited me out to lunch one day and told me that she missed me. She said that the last few years had helped her anger issues in many ways and she was ready to move on. She kissed me then, and unlike her mother it was genuine, sweet, like she actually did love me. That night I informed her mother I was done playing her little game. To my surprise, she was okay with it. My life seemed to go right for a little bit. I was doing better at my job, Lizzie and I were in love, and more importantly we were officially getting our own place together. Her mother never said a word to me, even when I was over at her house to see her daughter. It was like something about us moving forward startled her, and after a year and a half of us being together - she broke the news while I was helping her pack. She didn’t believe her at first, but when I didn’t deny my actions she grew disgusted and kicked me out. Our little bit of happiness was cut short.

I couldn’t stay in Philadelphia any longer. I had to move back to the place that had given me the closest thing I had to peace in my life. I was given a chance to come back when Ford’s Theater called me in for an interview, practically giving me that job the second I walked in. With my life in full swing once again, I took what little pride I had left and ran away from home.

#about me #rp #introduction

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justalittlebluetiefling · 7 years

Text

Chapter 43: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke Chapter: 43/68 Word Count: 1774 Words

Chapter Summary: The one where Clake isn’t happy with her art history TA.

Also on AO3; Start from the beginning on AO3

It was still unclear how her alarm didn’t get set, but most of the seats were full by the time Clarke made it to class. She found a seat as close to the front as possible and set up her stuff. Some students always gave her weird looks on the first day of any class. Most of the people she knew used laptops for note taking, but she preferred to write things out. She also needed somewhere to sketch while she waited for the class to start.

A stack of papers landed directly on top of her notebook, forcing her to mess up on the bunny she was drawing. She scoffed and glanced up at the TA, who was apparently an asshole, and gasped loudly.

Bellamy put on a stern face. “Take one and pass it down please.”

Clarke didn’t have time to formulate a response before he smirked and continued down the line. Usually, syllabus days were Clarke’s favorite. An entire overview of the course material, a layout of all the assignments, the schedule of all the quizzes and tests? Structure was… calming. But today, all she could do was watch him doing whatever the hell his job was as the TA. It didn’t help that he kept catching her eye with some fake innocuous expression that might fool anyone else, but she could read him like a fucking book. Like the world’s most obnoxious fucking book.

He had laughed at her when he saw ‘From Athena to Lady Gaga: Art in the Modern Imagination’ on her schedule. She had tried to counter by listing everything in the class description.

“The Lascaux caves, Bellamy.” “Lady Gaga, Clarke.” “Raphael. Michelangelo. The Baroque movement. The neo-classicist movement.” “Lady Gaga.” He smirked. “Monet. Picasso. Jackson Pollock.” “Lady Gaga’s in the fucking name, Princess. How am I supposed to take a class seriously when Lady Gaga’s in the name? What does she have to do with art history?” “Oh, come on. Have you seen her outfits? Have you read anything about her?” “You refuse to listen to her music. You refused to go to that concert with O last year.” Clarke shrugged. “I’m not a fan of surrealism and her outfits are a little much for me. That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the fact that it’s technically art and some people may enjoy it.”

The professor started to discuss the assignment list, snapping Clarke back to reality. She refused to look at Bellamy’s stupid grin. But that was when it finally dawned on Clarke. Two short five-page papers, a midterm, one longer ten-page paper, and then a final… and Bellamy fucking Blake would be grading all of them.

There were fifteen minutes left when the professor said, “That’s about it for the day. My TA, Bellamy Blake, has the list of groups for discussions and peer edits. Stop by and get your group info before you leave.” There was an hour before her next class, so Clarke let most of the class rush to line up at the front before her under the guise of packing up her stuff. She ended up behind a pair of girls who wouldn’t stop giggling about the “hot TA”. One even pulled her shirt down a little before she leaned over the desk to look at the list. To his credit, Bellamy only glanced at her before looking up at Clarke. She stuck a finger in her mouth and pretended to gag, smiling when he had to choke back a laugh.

She smirked at him when she finally reached the desk. He plastered a grin on his face. “Name?”

“Clarke Griffin,” she said, struggling to hold in a smile.

Bellamy ran his finger along the list and put his chin in his other hand. “Hmmm, I’m not seeing any royalty on this list.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and pulled the list away from him, leaning in. “Lady Gaga, huh?” She barely exhaled the question.

“I’ve heard she’s a fantastic artist,” he muttered.

“You saw this class on my schedule.”

He nodded and murmured assent with a serious look, as though they were talking about assignments or attendance or anything else.

“You knew.”

He nodded again.

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I wanted to surprise you.” She looked up from the paper she was writing her group information on to see a stupid grin on his face again.

The person behind her chose that moment to clear their throat loudly and she realized it probably looked like they were flirting. Bellamy was already starting to glare at them when Clarke turned around to glare herself. She absentmindedly hoped that the guy wasn’t in her group as she turned back to Bellamy and tried to sound as cheerful as possible. “Thanks. See you Wednesday.”

The science building was on the other side of campus. Clarke dug her phone out of her purse to check it as she made her way through the masses.

Monty 10:10am Calc isn’t the same without you. Jasper’s been moping the whole class. Why did you decide to take Stats instead?

Wells 10:16am Did you wake up on time? I told you that hiding behind that bench waiting for Miller to come by was a bad idea. He wasn’t even that scared.

Octavia 10:21am Important question. How many classes do you think I can skip and still pass? Like, you still have all your old psych notes right?

Bell 10:27am Surprise, Princess!

Clarke stopped walking so she could angrily type out a reply to the last one. It wasn’t even entirely clear to her why she was suddenly so mad at him, but the more she thought about it, the angrier she got.

Clarke 11:51am How in the hell did you land a TA gig for an art history class?

She stared at her phone for a few minutes, waiting for a response, until someone bumped her as they walked by. She was about to yell, but realized she was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Frustrated, still for no real reason which was even more frustrating, she shoved her phone back into her purse and finished her walk to the science building. Once she found an empty bench nearby, she sat and took her phone back out.

Bell 12:01pm Your Roman art history class last quarter really piqued my interest. My grad advisor hooked me up.

Clarke 12:06pm You didn’t even tell me you were going to be a TA for any class. You told me you were thinking about it. Not that it was a real thing that was happening.

Oh. That’s why she was mad. She’d looked into being an undergrad TA, but opted not to in the long run. It was pretty demanding just as an undergrad. It would be twice as much work for a grad student.

Bell 12:07pm You’re not going to lose your hookup at the café. I’ll still be there on the weekends.

Clarke You’re not going to have time to hang out anymore. Isn’t that basically a job? When am I even going to see you?

Bellamy didn’t respond. He was ruining syllabus day for her and he didn’t even bother to respond. Clarke stared at her phone for a solid five minutes before she grabbed her things and found her class. Thankfully, there were no surprises during her physics class, but she had another hour to kill before statistics. The math building was right by the science building so she found a place to sit again and pulled out her phone. It was still blank.

She was halfway through typing out a moderately scathing text when a floating iced coffee drink covered in whipped cream appeared in front of her. Well, it wasn’t floating. It was attached to a hand that was attached to an annoyed looking Bellamy. She glared before reluctantly accepting it. He just had to pick that moment to remind her that he knew her coffee order in any weather. A white paper bag landed in her lap as he sat next to her, too. There was a turkey sandwich inside.

“Bribery isn’t going to work, Blake.”

“Come on. I know you’ve got some time to kill. I also know that you weren’t going to eat lunch and that you probably skipped breakfast.” She scoffed and took a bite of her sandwich. He nudged her knee with his and smiled at her. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I did not want to get up this morning. Miller was still super pissed, by the way.”

Clarke snorted and took another bite. Miller’s face was priceless. It was what he deserved, telling them his routine. Campus security guards were supposed to be more random with their routes and they agreed that he needed some encouragement.

They ate in silence for a few minutes and it gave Clarke a little time to calm down. When she was done with the first half of her sandwich, she folded her hands in her lap and looked over at him. He was happily chewing a bite and lost in people watching, so it took him a moment to realize she was watching him.

“Don’t be a creep, Princess,” he said after he swallowed.

Clarke frowned. “Sorry for getting freaked out. You know I—”

“You don’t like surprises on syllabus day. I know.” He put his sandwich down in his lap and shrugged. “I thought I’d be a nice surprise.”

“Oh, come on.” Clarke elbowed him gently. “Of course you’re a nice surprise. If I have to be surprised, I’d rather it be you.” He smiled at her and she frowned. “You’re going to be so busy, though. You’re not going to have time for the little people.”

“You know you’re never going to be little people. Come on.” He slung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her into his side. “Plus, you’ll see me every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for at least an hour and a half. I’m like a built-in lunch date this quarter.”

“And you’re a creepy stalker who remembered that I have a break between my classes on Monday and Friday.”

“And an even longer break on Wednesdays, because you don’t have Physics.” Clarke laughed out loud and set her head on his shoulder. He squeezed her one more time before pulling away. “I’ll be busier this year, sure, but you’re my… one of my best friends. Plus, you live with my sister. You’re never getting rid of me.”

Clarke looked down at her lap, trying to hide her smile. Bellamy Blake was probably the best surprise she’d ever had in her life.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #modern au #sometimes i can't see myself #my work #erin writes

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g0dblessthefandom · 7 years

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Brittana Valentine’s Semi AU (Updated Daily Until Valentine’s Day) February 12, 2017

A bit of a shorter chapter. Excuse me while I tie up some loose ends. Until tomorrow!

February 12, 2017

Santana knew that at moments like this, the most logical thing would be to give Brittany space. She wasn’t being as strict with herself as she should have been, and the night before proved it. As much as she’d tried to deny it to herself, they’d almost kissed, and after the moment on the balcony, they’d spent the rest of the evening nearly cuddled up on the couch. They weren’t nearly as bad as Sugar and Jane, but Santana was sure she’d caught a couple of trademarked Mercedes-Jones-is-judging-you looks.

She probably should have left Brittany alone. But the deadline her brain had decided on (Valentine’s Day), was fast approaching, and she didn’t want to be left without a plan. She’d crossed off most of the date ideas on her list, but there were a few left, and hopefully, they would be enough to really wow Brittany. That’s what she hoped anyway.

So, she may have found herself pestering Jane for Brittany’s whereabouts, and then may have packed a lunch for her, and may have put on the expensive perfume that she got from Rachel in a package last Christmas, but she had to put in some kind of effort didn’t she? Jane’d told her that Brittany had a study group that met once a month in the library, and Santana made her way there to find her. Anyway, it was only to ask her if she had plans for Valentine’s Day, and nothing else.

Right.

The stacks at the campus library were pretty impressive. Santana had been to the campus many times considering Brittany had gone there throughout her school career (all the way up to her PhD). Sometimes, she’d find her there studying, and Santana would do just like she was doing that day: pack her a lunch, and go for a visit. More often than not they’d find a quiet nook and spend the rest of the “study session” making out. It wasn’t really good for Brittany’s productivity, so she made Santana stop visiting the second year of her grad studies.

She walked in the familiar hallways, heading towards the door that the very helpful (and totally checking her out) librarian had directed her to. She knew that Brittany’s study thing wouldn’t last much longer, so she picked an empty study room nearby, taped a ‘do not disturb’ sign to the front, and unpacked the lunch. She’d even gotten one of those checkered tablecloths that you always saw in movies. She spread it out over the table and set the dishes she brought on top.

She couldn’t wait until Brittany saw it. She’d always picked that day to tell Brittany about her new job. The job meant stability, and it meant less of a chance of her disappearing at a moment’s notice. Of course, Santana had no intention of leaving, but she was still trying to figure out a way of convincing Brittany of that. She’d done well for herself in a week. First the apartment and now the job. She might have something to offer Brittany after all.

When she was satisfied with the job she’d done, she turned on the electric candles (she hadn’t brought real ones because they were in a library and she wasn’t stupid), and went in search for Brittany. The classroom they were supposed to have been in was empty save for a few students on their way out. She recognized one from the musical performance the other day, and waved her over.

“Hey, hi. I’m looking for Dr. Pierce. Is she around?”

The girl looked unsure for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, um, we finished up a little early, and she had to go talk to some guy.”

“Some guy?”

“Yeah.” She gestured towards a closed door. “They’re in there. He didn’t look happy, but that’s none of my business.”

Santana thanked the girl, and went to the door. She could faintly hear Brittany’s voice behind the door as she approached, and suddenly she heard another voice.

“Really, Brittany? I mean, what did you expect?” Said the voice in a measured calm that Santana found strangely unnerving.

It was Clark. It had to be him. She’d only heard him say a few words, but who else could it be? She swallowed hard. Of course she shouldn’t be listening to this conversation. The best thing for her to do would have been to walk away. Let them figure out their problems on their own. It wasn’t her business. And yet… Her feet stayed glued to the floor.

“Clark, I’m not saying that I don’t care about you. I’m just saying there are a lot of things happening right now and I just need you to be patient.”

“I have been patient, Brittany. Do you think I don’t know that you two are out there together? I know you have friends in common. I know that you see each other. Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying anything!”

“Have you ever thought about what I want in all this? About what might be fair to me? I’m not a selfish person, Brittany, but I don’t like being made a fool of.” There was a moment where Santana was sure that she heard Clark’s voice crack, but he cleared his throat. “I really like you, Brittany. I think you’re an amazing person. You don’t deserve to be with a person who hurt you so badly. I know how she treated you, I know how she abandoned you. I can’t believe you would even consider giving her the time of day!”

The words hit Santana full on. How much had Brittany told him about what had happened between the two of them? She tasted bile in the back of her throat. She felt angry, but she mostly felt ashamed. Ashamed of what she’d done, and what she was still asking Brittany to do. Sure, she didn’t like Clark, but he was right. If someone treated one of her friends the way they were treating him, she would have kicked their ass.

“It's not about you. It's not that simple, okay?” Brittany responded.

“Well, why don't you explain it to me, Brittany?”

His voice should have sounded angry, but to Santana, it just sounded sad.

“Do you love her, Brittany?” Clark’s voice cut through again.

There was a long silence, and Santana couldn’t listen anymore. Whatever Brittany said, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the distance, maybe it was how long she’d waited, but what if what they’d had couldn’t be repaired? What if all the fancy dates, and picnics, and musical numbers couldn’t solve it? What if Brittany broke up with Clark, and Santana still somehow let her down? She could feel herself spirling, and tried to take a few steadying breaths, but her breath kept coming out more and more shallow.

Santana took a step back from the door right as it swung open, and she was face to face with Clark. His eyes were dark, and his face red. His eyes went wide, then his face relax, as if he’d been expecting her.

“Of course it’s you. You’ll have to excuse me, Santana, I’m in no mood to play third wheel tonight. See you later, Brittany.”

He brushed past Santana, and she saw the look on Brittany’s face. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about this either, and for the first time in a long time, they were on the same page.

“Sorry, Britt, I’ve gotta go.” Santana turned and walked towards the classroom where she’d set up their lunch.

To her surprise, as she gathered up dishes and dinnerware, Brittany was right behind her.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“What?”

“C’mon, Santana, don’t act innocent with me. You didn’t just happen to walk up to the door when Clark was coming out.”

Santana sped up the packing, throwing caution to the wind, and not minding if packages were closed before throwing them into her bag.

“Santana, Santana, stop.”

Brittany walked in, and placed a gentle hand on Santana’s arm. It was light, but enough to bring Santana out of her spiral. She took a deep breath.

“Do you love me, Brittany?”

Brittany cocked her head. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s the same one he asked you. I didn’t hear you respond.”

“I thought we weren’t going to do this to each other, Santana.” Brittany rubbed her temples.

“Do what? Ask questions that matter? Actually talk about the things that are bothering us?”

“No! Make demands. Ask everything of the other person. Santana, you came back less than two weeks ago. If you expect me to know-”

“It’s not just about this” Santana said, gesturing between the two of them. “It’s about what we could be. It’s about deciding if what happened is going to decide what’s next for us.”

“Santana, you apologized to me just last night! It takes time to process stuff like that. It’s not an on/off switch.”

“So, what did you tell Clark?”

“Tell him about what?”

“When he asked if you still loved me. What did you tell him?”

Brittany paused for another moment, and looked at Santana carefully.

“I will always love you, Santana. That’s not the question.”

“Then what is the question?” Santana asked quietly.

“The question is can I trust you. Can I trust you not to break my heart again?”

“And what do you think?”

“I want to trust you. I really do. I think we’ve both established how much we missed each other. I didn’t just miss hanging out with you, Santana. I missed hanging out with you and everyone else. I missed making little jokes that only you heard, or hearing you bickering with Rachel, or doing impromptu duets with Mercedes. I missed living with you, and having you wake me up in the morning with kisses, and I just miss you, Santana.”

But is it enough?

The question hung in the air unsaid. They were both having the same doubts, the same questions. It was the one thing they couldn’t shake. Maybe it was too late. Maybe the damage was already done.

Santana folded up the tablecloth, and placed it in her bag.

“I just really wish…” She trailed off, and thought for a moment. “I just really wish I had come here when you asked me.”

Brittany nodded, her throat too tight with tears to do anything else.

Santana put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a small shake. “I’ll be here, Britt. When you make up your mind.”

Brittany nodded again, and then Santana was gone.

This is a fic that will update everyday until Valentine’s Day 2017. To truly enjoy please put on (Sweet Sweet Baby) Since You’ve Been Gone by Aretha Franklin. :P

FF.net link and Ao3 link.

#brittana #santana lopez #brittany s. pierce #glee #fanfiction #mercedes jones #sugar motta #the troubletones #brittana valentine's fic #ugh you two dummies #i love you just get together already #oh wait #i'm the author #i can totally do that #I #HAVE #THE #POWERRRRRRR

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meanderings0ul · 7 years

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Dodio Fic Preview 1

Taking part in femslash February at the very last hour. Of course.

This is a portion of a long fic I’ve been working on off and on for about two years. As we’ve have more episodes involving our favorite Wayward ladies I’ve made changes to keep things in line with canon. It’s been a challenge and I’m glad I’ve done it. This fic is from Jody’s pov and focuses not only on the relationship she build’s with Donna, but on her careers as sheriff and part-time hunter, and the girls she’s taken in when they had no where else to go. I’d hoped to finish it this month of course, but between grad school and that fact that my outline now suggests its going to end up at around 30,000 words, yikes, it’s not finished yet.You can expect to see another preview snippet or two before it’s finally complete.

Please enjoy <3

She met Donna in the muddy parking lot of the county’s tiny morgue three hours later. Donna’d clearly been waiting out next to her car for a while, ankles crossed and blonde ponytail fluffed out from the breeze. The second Jody stood the woman sorta, well, cooed a little and hugged Jody hello, way too tight and sudden. Jody tried not to instinctively shrug her off.

“Ooo, are you a sight for sore eyes! How’ve you been? I haven’t been in to take a look yet, but we’ll just tell them we’ve worked together on something like this before right? It shouldn’t be a problem.”

It wasn’t. Donna introduced them in a flood of over energetic conversation and Jody glowered over her shoulder when it looked like the clerk was going to make a fuss. They sailed through the morgue visit and examining the guy’s files in a blur of slightly too off the record police work. Donna was never squeamish at the body or the photos, didn’t waste any time they didn’t need to spend talking to the cop that’d been first on scene and Jody played up the surliness whenever it looked like someone wasn’t going to take Donna seriously.

Damn, was it fun.

This was ridiculous. What were they going to do? Run off on badly informed hunts whenever there was something in the tri state area? They had real jobs, real identities at risk, hell Jody had a teenager at home that had probably already snuck out. This couldn’t possibly work out as a repeat thing.

But Jody already knew she’d really like it to. Donna was humming and it wasn’t even annoying her, and a crime scene only they had a hope of dealing with waiting for them.

But Sam finally called Jody back when they were in Donna’s car almost to the victim’s house.

“You said big bites, deep scratches, on a guy inside a locked house?”

“Something like that.”

“Anything go suddenly right in his life about ten years ago? Money? Miraculous health recovery?”

Jody glanced at Donna and repeated the questions but she only shrugged, pursed her lips out and shook her head.

“Doesn’t seem like there was anything major Sam, why’re you askin?”

Sam sighed. He sounded exhausted, hadn’t even so much as said hi. “Well, sometimes it isn’t obvious. Sounds like a demon deal. You usually get ten years then your times up, hellhounds come to collect the soul and there’s basically nothing you can put in their way. Locks don’t matter. Lot of people just end it when they hear them coming.”

“Hellhounds.”

Donna’s head snapped away from the road to stare at Jody, frowning.

“Yeah. They’re invisible. There won’t be any traces except the bites and scratches on the vic. And they’ll be long gone by now Jody. There’s nothing for you to do. Sorry I couldn’t get back to you faster.”

“It’s fine Sam, now we know. Wait, wait don’t hang up yet. You boys doing ok?” He sounded too flat, like he’d been up for days.

“Yeah, we’re good, just busy. Sorry Jody, I gotta go.” Sam hung up with a click.

Yeah, they weren’t good.

Shit.

Donna parked her car in the road outside the victim’s house, but left it running. There was really no reason to go in now. Police tape was still up over the door. Some flowers had been left near the doorstep.

“Apparently the victim probably made a deal with a demon. A hellhound comes to collect later.”

“Demon? An actual demon.”

Her voice was a little high, face pale when Jody glanced over. “Yeah, they’re just as real as vamps. Demons I’ve actually seen before. Sorry Donna. And now hellhounds are real too apparently.”

Donna sighed, drummed her knuckles on the steering wheel. “So there’s nothing to be done? This poor fellas dead, his family’s devastated, and the thing that did it just poofs away into nothing like a dandelion?”

A dandelion. Jody shrugged.

“Sam said a lot of people who know this is coming commit suicide when they hear the hounds, so that’s why we don’t see this as often as it happens. They just get lumped in with the rest of the unexplained suicide cases.”

Donna shook her head, turned back to look at the guy’s empty little house, little blue truck still parked out front under a yellow streetlight. “Hellhounds. Who’d a thought.”

Jody looked and wondered for a moment what could have driven the guy to this.

All the fun had gone out of their little side case, but Jody didn’t regret the drive. They made their apologies to the local department, made some excuses, ended up sitting in some late night diner before they both drove back towards home, drinking godawful black coffee and discussing demons just as seriously as any other bit of police procedure.

Jody ordered another awful coffee. She still had work tomorrow and finding a hotel at this hour for less than one night was a ridiculous hassle.

“It’s amazing how much you miss before you know, what you miss about this stuff, things you can’t believe you didn’t notice before. There must be more people like us who know, who’ve seen things. Lots even,” Donna said. “You’re telling me the Winchester boys have been hunting this stuff for years on end, so there must be more people around who know. How did I not hear anything for so long? Especially in our line of work, we come across all sorts of things. Eventually enough people will have to be in the know that it won’t all stay so unidentified, right?”

Jody took another drink of shit coffee and thought about Sioux Falls. About the hundreds of families that had a loved one return and then turn into something else. About how there were only five people Jody could think of that were willing to acknowledge the experience, all the stories in the local papers about mass hallucinations and accidental injury all due to a chemical spill. So tragic.

So very tragic.

Jody hadn’t been involved with that press release for obvious reasons, but she knew everyone who had, and they all believed in it like it was true. Bobby’d been the only thing in the aftermath that’d kept her from fucking losing it.

Donna had to be right. There were lots of people out there who knew about these things. Had to be. But it would be a long damn time before most of them were willing to know much at all. Thinking otherwise was a useless daydream at best.

“You’d be surprised what people are willing to forget,” she said.

But Donna only sighed, tapped her nails with their chipped purple polish on the slimy table. “I know what you mean.”

And Jody somehow felt like she actually, probably did.

Hey, if you wouldn’t mind, text me once you’ve

made it back to familiar territory? You had way

more of a drive to take on than I did. I’m

already stuck at a light in Sioux Falls.

No prob! I should be home in about two hours.

And I didn’t text and drive either Ms Sheriff!

Stopped for gas ;p Sorry to have taken up your

time for nothing though :/

Don’t worry about it. Really.

Hate to admit it, but stomping around

like I knew everything was kinda fun.

Felt like being in one of those fancy detective

shows, didn’t it? :D Wish we could solve all

our crimes in an hour :|

Don’t we all.

After that first phone call there were other calls.

Somebody called to bitch about paperwork. Somebody called to ask about a better cookie recipe, because the Toll House package one just wasn’t doing the trick. Somebody called because there was nothing good on TV. (When was there ever? Jody didn’t pretend to watch much other than Walking Dead or HGTV anymore.)

Donna called after getting thrown up on while dealing with a drunk and disorderly call on a particularly busy night.

Jody called after catching up on all her damn paperwork, dealing with five different road ice crashes, getting another call about Alex smoking, and was considering just driving off a bridge rather than deal with the headache one more goddamned minute.

She’d pulled over into a park lot so none of her coworkers would spot her complaining on the phone. Wasn’t good form to let your deputies see you doing that. The creeks were up with snow melt, but all the trees were still bare, roads covered in old salt and black ice.

Donna listened, then talked for an hour about last fall’s weird hunting-season incident phone calls. By the end of the call, Jody’s headache was gone. She pretended not to notice that. Or how many times she’d laughed at Donna’s stories. Especially the one about the drunken and very insistent call she’d gotten from someone about a bigfoot sighting. Or the way Jody’d just let her voice linger on the ‘e’ in bye just like Donna had.

Jody finally had to admit that it was a regular thing after she realized they talked on the phone almost three times a week.

She hadn’t talked to another human being this much in years.

So what else do you do for funsies in your spare time?

What spare time you talkin about exactly?

Oh boo :p even our line of work gets a spare minute

or two! Have to say I haven’t done much lately but

catch up on all the novels I missed these last few

years. Do you like mysteries?

I love mysteries. Especially stupid murder mysteries.

They never get old.

I’ve had that new one by Lindsey Faye by my bed for

weeks now and haven’t made it past page one.

Oh you’ve got to read this one then! By Kate

Morton? You’ll just love her, if you haven’t

read any of hers before. She’s written several.

I’ll mail this one to ya after I finish it. Two

chapters left and I’ve got to wait for tomorrow! >:(

#supernatural #dodio #femslash february #fanfic #jody mills #donna hanscum #My writing #i do hope the texts aren't too confusing here

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