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shadowsong26x · 3 years

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Because My Roommate And I Think We’re Hilarious*

*because it’s True

From a conversation we had like three years ago, I give you: the Iliad/Oddyssey as a college Battle of the Bands.

Roommate - In fact I really wanna write a modern-day AU where Helen will only date the best rocker so it's a giant battle of the bands and Achilles is closeted until he's really spectacularly not

Me - yesssss that is amazing.

Roommate - and Odyessus is MARRIED and doesn't want to BE here fuck you very MUCH, Diomedes.

Me - "look, dude, you're the best drummer we've got we NEED you here. come on, be a wingman."

Roommate - "DUDE WE HAVE A TWO-MONTH-OLD. MY WIFE WILL KILL ME. I WILL KILL ME."

Me - "bro, come ooooooooooon i'll make it up to you."

Roommate - "THERE IS NO MAKE IT UP TO ME" "THERE IS ONLY EXTREMELY JUSTIFIABLE HOMICIDE" "BRB TEXTING MY WIFE 'SORRY, SWEETHEART, DIOMEDES FUCKING KIDNAPPED ME.'"

Me - XD

Roommate - and then he sits in traffic all night trying to get the fuck home

Me - gets into a fender bender on a deserted back street with a girl who insists they have to do the police accident report thing and swears she called the cops and of course his phone died and they're there for like three hours and he's pretty sure she did not, in fact, call the cops.

Roommate - then his car won't start so he flags down a cab except it's full of fratboys smoking weed and he's pretty sure they're hotboxing him

Me - then they get pulled over and he spends a few hours in the drunk tank trying to convince the lady cop who arrested them that he was not involved, really, he was just hitchhiking.

Roommate - omg yes ends up getting bailed out by a guy and his teenager who overhear him talking about his infant and begging to go home

Me - yes i love it

Roommate - then the guy and his teenage daughter give him a ride home except the assholes from down the street who keep wolf-whistling at his wife are like, barricading the damn street so he has to beat them up before he can finally. get. home.

Me - he is never speaking to diomedes again.

Roommate - once he tells the saga to Penelope he adds "and if I murder Diomedes will you help me get rid of the body"

Me - "babe, you'll only murder him if i don't get there first."

Roommate - Can't decide if Diomedes is like "BRO :(" or "...yeah actually that's fair"

Me - ...yeah, tough call.

Roommate - Achilles suddenly has MORE fangirls now that he's come out, which is not what his mom/manager expected

Me - nope. not at all.

Roommate - Patroclus is a little worried that HE suddenly has fangirls, he is literally not involved in this beyond tagging along after Achilles

Me - hector is just facepalming at this whole thing and wondering why the hell they decided to host the damn thing, now the house is trashed.

Roommate - Their newest pledge was horny on main for Helen, that's why

Me - ...are we going sweet paris or asshole paris? i prefer sweet paris mostly because it's nicer to helen, but

Roommate - Sweet, but uh God love him not bright

Me - so he loses and helen's like "...but i like him. i don't like the asshole president of the other frat's asshole brother."

Roommate - oooh wait better idea

Me - oh?

Roommate - "I don't like the asshole president of the other frat's asshole brother, and sweetie, you're very nice, but you're also VERY dumb. Hector. Your sister. Introduce me."

Me - oooooh nice! WAIT I HAVE ANOTHER OPTION genderbend paris. her sorority sister egged her on into crossdressing and entering the battle

Roommate - OMG EVEN BETTER PERFECT PERFECT So Helen and Paris run off together, Agamemnon and Menelaus get to sulk, Odysseus gets home... eventually, Diomedes gets a lot of nasty emails, and Achilles and Patroclus have a lot of sex and wake up to find out that shippers are a thing.

Me - and hector is left to clean up the mess after these assholes trashed my house not cool guys.

Roommate - 'cause Achilles is like, legit, he's an actual rock star singer, he's just been closeted because his mom made him and now he's like "...I get to smooch my perfect boyfriend on stage and NOT ONLY do they think it's great, they draw cute pictures of my perfect boyfriend? FUCKING SOLD."

Me - yes! perfect i love it

Roommate - Briseis is Patroclus's bestie who Agamemnon kept hitting on at the party and finally she was like 'ugh Achilles beat him up for me' and Achilles is like "BETTER PLAN HOW ABOUT I JUST DON'T SING YOU DICK"

Me - and agamamnon is like "but dude YOU'RE OUR HEADLINER."

Roommate - and Patroclus is like "great now he's holding grudges for you too" and Briseis is like "I am perfectly capable of holding this grudge on my own"

Me - "helen won't date my brother if you don't sing!"

Roommate - "FUCK YOU SHOULDA THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU HIT ON MY PERFECT BOYFRIEND'S BEST FRIEND"

Me - XD

Roommate - "FINE WE'LL MAKE PATROCLUS SING" and Patroclus gets stage fright and Achilles like bounds up and plants one on him and then they just vanish

Me - yesssssssss i love it

Roommate - and Briseis is like "hit on me again and you will not like the consequences"

#tigerkat24 #i still think i'm funny #also came up in this conversation: that time i wrote an x-files/oddyssey fusion fanfic for my high school english class #IT WORKED OKAY

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13-reasons-ideas · 4 years

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Finding Peace In Another Part 19

A/N: T/W: Discussion of drug addiction and dating violence. This chapter is coming out a few days early and I’m sorry for the delay, I've been really busy with school. I hope everyone is coping well with the virus and isn't going to stir crazy. Also note that this is a work of free fiction and as such I’m not sticking to exact US immigration protocol. Much love!

A few weeks after my dinner with Scott, things were going well. His suspicions were quelled, Monty and I were good and there were no lingering issues with me hanging out with Scott. Since things had calmed down some, I decided to partake in my new favourite pastime. Recently I started surprising Justin at Monet’s after his shifts.

“Hey Justin, can I get peach tea and a raspberry scone please?”

“Coming right up. Usual table?”

“Depends, do you have leftovers?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. I’m beginning to think you’re only using me for a baked good fix.”

“Maybe. I do bake as a hobby though, so its definitely more that I like you.”

He laughed as I took my drink and wandered over to the table. I people watched while he finished his shift.

“So, how are things with you?” I asked, casually after he sat down.

“You know, things are going. Clay is kind of oblivious to things, mom and dad are trying to judge what they should and shouldn’t push me on. The usual stuff. You?”

“Yeah. Things are going with me too. Dad still occasionally pops in town for a few days before going to wherever he needs to again. Still acts like I don’t essentially live on my own. I think he’s going to be in town for like two weeks sometime soon so that will be interesting.”

“Oh?” He asked, surprised. “Interesting how?”

I had to be careful how I answered. Man, this hiding our relationship thing is getting hard. “Well, he could decide to actually parent me. I’m an adult though so that could cause problems. May end up being a very silent couple of weeks.”

“Sounds like a trip.” He said, laughing.

“Justin. The last time he was home for any length of time, he told me to go look for a job.”

“Uh, why?”

“I have no idea. I can’t even legally work here. Dad’s work did something with the paperwork or something because I am still in high school. I literally can’t work, even if I wanted to.”

“I know. That makes no sense. Could tell him to send you home really.” He said, jokingly. There was a skepticalness to his tone that seemed to indicate he was nervous for my answer.

“What? No. I have finally finished settling in and have begun to think of Evergreen County as my second home. Alberta will always be my home, but that doesn’t mean I want to move back. I still don’t understand your reluctance for universal healthcare but that’s fine. Technically it hasn’t been long enough to be removed from Alberta Healthcare, but I’m not about to go to the trouble of going all the way home to deal with something that can be dealt with here. Dad haggled and made them give him really good insurance to move here and give up the free healthcare.”

“Okay good. Because we like you and don’t want you to leave.”

We talked about some school stuff for a while before I noticed him start to seem a little restless. I knew about his addiction issues and we talked about it often. “Hey, you still with me Justin?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry what were we talking about?”

“Math test, but that’s not important. How are you doing right now?” I asked, subtly referencing the possible cause of his restlessness.

He sighed before answering, “I’m doing okay I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it? We can go for a walk if you’re not comfortable talking here.”

After a moment he nodded. I got up and went to order us two coffees to go while he waited, trying to organize his thoughts.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Your usual?”

I rolled my eyes at him. Obviously.

We left the shop and wandered around a bit before he broke the silence. “It’s just harder than I expected it to be. Even with going to meetings, it’s hard to manage sometimes.”

“I get it. Have you talked to your sponsor at all?”

“I call him every afternoon to check in but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. And I want to talk to Jess about it, but I don’t want to scare her or push her away. And I want to talk to mom and dad about it but I don’t want them to be mad or….”

“Or what Justin?”

“Or kick me out or something? I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen, but I hear you and I understand what you mean.” We sat on a park bench and people watched for a while. “You should tell Jess. Trust me when I tell you she is probably going to figure something out sooner or later.”

He looked at me in surprise, “You…?”

“No, not me. My ex-boyfriend was a prescription drug addict. Percocet was his drug of choice. He was in quasi-recovery, still drank and smoked weed so not actually trying stay sober, when we started dating. It wasn’t pills though so I wasn’t going to push the issue. But as time went on, he started using again and tried to hide it from me. It wasn’t that hard to figure it out. Things got… bad towards the end. Not that you would ever… just. I knew.”

“Oh. I-I didn’t know. Are you like, okay?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t that bad. If we stayed together it would have been worse, but thankfully we ended up breaking up after he went on a bender and I said enough was enough. But we aren’t talking about me, we are talking about you.”

“Do you think she would understand?”

“I think so. It might be hard at first, but I think she will. And she needs to hear it from you, not figure it out on her own like I did or be told by someone else. That will make it easier.”

“And my parents?”

“If you want, I can go with you to talk to them.”

“I think that would be good, yeah.”

“What do you want to do Justin?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you need? Do you need to go to more meetings? Do you need someone to take you to meetings? Do you need to consider going to rehab? What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I know I need help. I just don’t know where to start. Why?”

“Because I want to help you. You’re my friend. And your parents will ask, so maybe thinking about it before you talk to them would be helpful. If not though, I understand. And if you need anything, just call me. Okay? Day or night.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks Becca.”

We chatted randomly for a while again before calling it a night and parting ways.

The next day went smoothly as well. At least until lunch that is. The guys were goofing off as usual and since Scott had seemed to quell his suspicions at least for now, Monty and I didn’t have to walk on eggshells as much around him anymore. Bailey called me about halfway through lunch. It wasn’t unusual for him to call me in the middle of the day, given he had a spare after lunch, but he didn’t usually call and then text and then call again. Odd. I hope everything is okay….

“Someone’s popular? Hot date you forgot about tonight Becca?” Garrison joked. I wasn’t looking at Monty but I knew his eye twitched ever so slightly, as it did whenever someone made a comment like that.

“Uh, yeah sure. Whatever Garrison.” I said, distracted as my phone began to ring again. Something is going on. I answered it at the table rude I know, but I don’t think a bunch of teenage boys care much about table etiquette. “Hey Bailey, what’s up?” I asked.

“Hey so I didn’t want to get involved or get you involved since you aren’t here to defend yourself, but I feel like you need to know. And it’s my problem because you’re my best friend.”

“Need to know what?” I put my hand up to quiet the boys down a bit.

“James has been… saying stuff. About you. And your relationship.”

“Uh okay? Why is that a problem?”

“Because of what he has been saying and what it involves regarding your relationship.”

“What has he been saying Bailey?” I felt my cheeks begin to warm and Monty and Zach’s eyes on me.

“He’s been telling our friends uh… intimate details about your erm… private relationship.”

I laughed in disbelief. That little prick. I took a deep breath to centre myself, though it did little to quell my growing anger. The table grew silent as I started to vibrate, “well Bailey. You tell James that if he keeps running his damn mouth, I will get on the next plane home, find him, and shove my foot so far up his ass he will taste it.” I heard Bryce let out a laugh and glared at him threateningly.

“Okay. Is it wrong that I would pay to watch that? Because that would be great.”

“Bailey.”

“Sorry, just trying to break the tension.”

“Has the little slime ball been saying anything else?”

“I mean, he complains about the end of your relationship, which I don’t like but that’s not unusual.”

“Remind him that I kept my mouth shut about a lot of shit he did, to protect him. And remind him about the little agreement we made when we broke up. I may not live there anymore, but my phone plan has international calling and I am on very good terms with the school resource officer.”

“What agreement Rebecca?”

“The agreement that keeps his dumb ass out of jail for various things that I cannot talk about right now. And certainly not with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have money to bail you out of jail and the exchange rate is terrible right now. That’s why.”

“O-okay then. Talk later?”

“Yeah, I might call tonight but if not, later this week. Depends on my plans for the evening.” I heard a bell on the other end of the line.

“Gotta run, love you Becky.”

“Love you too Bear.”

When I looked up, the table was staring at me, slack jawed. Scott looked the least surprised out of the group, considering he had a little more insight than everyone else regarding my last relationship. “What?”

“What the fuck was that?” Matt asked.

“My ex was talking about shit he shouldn’t have been talking about.”

“Okay we got that much but… what was that?” Zach asked.

“You’re so small. How can such a small person have that kind of anger in them?” Garrison added.

“Could have something to do with people not watching where the hell they walk and stepping on me, or it could have something to do with my tolerance for bullshit getting lower and lower the older I get.”

“But you hang out with us. So, I don’t see how that is possible? That was kind of hot though.” Scott asked.

“No offence, but I’ve met second graders who exude more bullshit than you guys do all put together. Well if I knew that’s all it would take to turn you on Scott, I would have told Bailey to call me during lunch a long time ago.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Hurtful but fair. What can I say, it’s the simple things. Are you going to eat your apple?”

“Depends Scotty. Are you going to take it anyway?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Uh huh. Since I don’t get a choice anymore, knock yourself out.” I chucked my apple at him, half hoping he would miss. He never did.

Zach and Monty shared a look. Still haven’t grasped subtlety yet I see. “Do you want my carrot sticks Monty? I’m not very hungry.”

“Why?”

“Big breakfast.”

“Right. Sure, not one to say no to free food. Even if they are someone’s leftovers.”

“They aren’t leftovers you meatball. I cut them this morning. I had green beans last night.”

“Do you eat other vegetables Becks?” Monty asked, teasingly, taking a bite of the stick.

“Dude, chew your fucking food.” Bryce chided.

“Why? What is this? Interrogate Rebecca day or something? Eat your damn carrot sticks.”

There was a beat of silence, where the boys sat with perplexed looks on their faces. Zach, bless him, jumped in with some game related question that I tuned out as it went over my head. I’m dating a sports player. I never said I understood any of it. The heat seemed to be off of us again, though I could feel Scott glancing my way every now and then while I tried to brush up on some geometry before math class.

I had full intentions to lessen Scott’s once again raised suspicions, so instead of waiting for Montgomery a minute or two after the lunch bell as usual, I merely waived goodbye to my friends and ran to math. I was the first one there so I pulled out the book I was reading between classes.

“Good book?” Cyrus asked, startling me as he sat down.

“God! You scared me. Yeah, I have read it a few times though.”

“Cool. Did you want to come hang out tonight? Mack is going to Chad’s place to talk boys or something.”

“Maybe, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Dad is making baked ziti for dinner. You can have a corner piece.” He bribed.

“A corner piece of ziti you say? Well in that case, my schedule is clear as day.”

“It’s a plan.”

Mr. Daniels started class a few minutes later. Will geometry ever get easier?

I met Cyrus at my locker after school and yelled a goodbye to my friends, who were having an animated discussion about who would in a fight, someone I had never heard of or some other guy I’ve never heard of. There was a chorus of ‘byes’ and grunts of acknowledgement. We parted ways and met again at his house.

“Hey Andrew.” I greeted his dad.

“Hey kids. How was school?”

“It was school dad. The establishment and crap.”

“I see you had a good day Cyrus.”

“At Liberty? Sure.”

“I had a pretty good day. I told my friend at home to tell my ex where he can stick his opinion. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, that’s okay thanks though Becca.”

“Oh this I need to hear.” Cyrus said, grabbing a Coke from the fridge.

“Pass me a Diet and I’ll tell you.” After opening my drink, I told the father and son the story of the lunch phone call.

His dad raised his brow and muttered something about punk ass little shits who don’t know their cocks from their feet.

“That is awesome dude. You should have told him to Facetime you when he told this James dickwad.”

“That would require me seeing the asshat’s stupid face. So no sadly.”

“Fair point. We are going to my room to do some homework Dad. Call when dinner is ready? I bribed her with a corner piece so save one for her.”

“For sure kids. Have fun.”

With that, we ran off to his room, but we didn’t work on the non-existent homework. Instead, we went through his records and Spotify account and argued about which to play. “Just go to a radio if it’s going to be an issue Cyrus.”

“No no. You’re my guest, you choose.”

“I already chose and you said no.”

“Fine. Defy it is. You’re lucky I like you.”

“Mhmm. Just play the damn album Cy.”

He laughed as he hit play and the sounds of Of Mice & Men filled the room.

“You better not have been lying about the corner piece man.”

“Lie to you about dad’s cooking? I would never.”

“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”

We joked around for a while before dinner. Andrew called us down later and as promised, I had my crispy corner slice of ziti.

“Thank God it’s Friday. I want this week to be over. Thank you for dinner again.”

“Everything okay Becca? It’s no problem.” Andrew asked.

“Yeah, it’s just been busy. Lots of assignments and stuff.” Too much work and not enough boyfriend time.

“Well you have the weekend to relax at least.” Cyrus pointed out, waving his fork.

“If you don’t stop that, you’ll poke your eye out one of these days. Are you going to the game next Saturday, Cyrus?” “Maybe. Not really my scene.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. We can not care about the sport together. It’s high school. You only go once.”

“Fine, but you are buying me popcorn.”

“Deal.” I said and shook his hand.

Andrew made sure to send me home with leftovers and a standing invitation to come for dinner any time at the end of the night.

#monty imagine #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x oc #montgomery de la cruz #montgomery de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz x reader #monty de la cruz #monty x oc #Justin Foley #justin foley jensen #Bryce Walker #trigger warning #cyrus 13rw #scott reed #zach dempsey #FEEDBACK PLEASE

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dragonnan · 4 years

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Author Interview Tag

Tagged by @aelaer a week or two ago, thank you!

Name: Tanya (among family I'm Nan or Auntie Nanny)

Fandoms: Sherlock, MCU, Psych, Prodigal Son, and a goodly collection of others

Where you post: For a number of years I posted on FFN but between the really shitty reviews and extremely cumbersome posting process I finally quit. I posed on Psychfic while still an active part of that fandom but that, too, has pretty much ended. I put a few stories on Wattpad but found it to be pretty meh. I now post exclusively to AO3.

Most popular multi-chapter fic: It's a tossup between “Fury” on Psychfic and “All Nighter” on AO3 – one based on comments and the other on Kudos. Frankly “popularity” is really subjective because there's also stuff like read count and with comments, at least nearly half are replies from me and read count also includes re-reads as well as every time I clicked on the damn thing to edit so....

You know I'm just really not sure how to properly answer this??

Favorite story you’ve written so far: Like others have stated you can ask me this on three different days and get three different answers and there will be more than 1 fic mentioned every time so.... Because I write in different fandoms I just absolutely can't list a single fic. The best I can narrow it would a fic from my top 3 fandoms.

Psych: Paint it Black. I had read a fic where Shawn was gradually going blind and had really been enjoying it and the challenges it presented. Sadly it was never completed. As has happened before I decided I would write my own damn fic if I couldn't get a completed story so that was the primary motivation to start this. What I most love about this is writing from Shawn's perspective as he navigates being blind and not knowing whether or not his condition is permanent. I did my best to honor the experience of blind and partially blind people and tried to look beyond the cliché.

MCU: I have so much fun writing these stories! In spite of the dumpster fire the film canon became I do so love this sandbox and employing various forms of unfucking it. So I'm gonna cheat a little and pick two for my faves here since one is a WIP. Sed Diabolus. I don't need to have completed it yet to know this will be my all-time favorite. This is the first fic that has been entirely plotted out and OMG I'm so excited for iiiit!! The second is Simple Math which seems like an odd choice given there's zero action – mostly just one character – hell, not even any whump. But there is something about that deep dive into Tony's mindset that keeps this as a fave even though it was the first thing I ever wrote for the MCU. I learned about Tony as I wrote this and I also worked my way through those motivations that bothered me regarding Stane. Even years later I still mentally go back to this fic whenever I write Tony because I feel encapsulates the essence of how I see him as a character.

Sherlock: Compared to other fandoms I'm still quite new to this fandom so I don't have nearly as many fics. But I still have a favorite! And, like with the MCU, it's the first story I ever wrote for this fandom; The Tiger and the Shark. Returning to a plot device I've employed in other fics, this one is built around a sexual assault and taking the character on a journey from that terrible event to the point where they rediscover themselves. PTSD ever being my favorite form of whump I employ that fairly a lot in this story and employ some kinda radical methods for coping with those memories.

Fic you were nervous to post: I mean until I start getting comments I'm a world of anxiety with every story I post. But grabbing a specific fic that hit my nerves – that Sherlock fic I'd said was my fave certainly qualified. Not only was it my first Sherlock fic – it also was charging out of the gate with a very heavy topic so yeah – I wasn't sure if people would absolutely hate it or find my characterizations totally off or what.

How you choose your titles: It varies a bit. In some stories, like Sed Diabolus, I actually consult friends on various ideas. Other times I'll consider songs or lyrics and my favorite thing is if I can alter the known title just a bit to make it more relevant to the fic (I did that a LOT with Psych fics which was the method the show also employed for its episode titles). One of my favorite Psych titles is “The Wizard Was the Wicked Witch and the Scarecrow Lost His Courage”.

Do you outline: Almost never – not until “Sed Diabolus”. That story, though, is so astoundingly complex that without an outline I'd be hopelessly lost. I am, though, trying to make a practice of outlining more because it helps SO much!

Complete: If we count every one-shot collection and challenge collection it likely is over 200 stories. Of course a lot of those are one-shots. My total completed chaptered fics number maybe around 34?

In progress: 16 – between Psychfic and AO3. All Psych stories are on long-term hiatus for the foreseeable future (some, honestly, I will never finish as they are many many years old and I've lost the inspiration for the plot). Several MCU stories are also on the back-burner while I focus on “Sed Diabolus”. I admit I get LOTS of story ideas and staying focused on a single fic is not something I've ever been greatly successful with.

Coming soon/not yet started: I meaaaan.... lots?? I have probably several hundred ideas and partially started fics across many fandoms. As to “imminently coming soon...” I don't think I currently have an active story that I haven't already posted at least a first chapter. Sadly I have zero patience for developing something for months before posting which is why I have so many WIPs. That said I DO have a Sherlock au that has been poking at me now and then involving the witch trials that started in Denmark and, eventually, made their way to Salem. The idea would be that Molly Hooper is accused of being a witch. She, of course, is innocent but cause this unfortunate attention due to her “uncanny” ability to heal the sick and injured (not so much uncanny as opposed to employing methods that aren't so reliant on superstition and folklore).

She is scheduled to be tortured and executed but is saved by Sherlock – a strange recluse primarily ignored and given a pass as he solves mysteries for people. He and his friend John save Molly from this awful fate. The twist is that Sherlock is a sorcerer (bit of marvel crossover-ish) and able to transport them to safety.

Do you accept prompts: I wish I could cause I love ideas but I don't have the time/energy to always work on what I already have and I'm awful at follow thru. Like I will never turn away an Ask wanting to share ideas but I can't promise that I can actually write anything.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: As was the reply to a previous query – I have lots that are ideas that will linger in partial stages for sometimes years. If it's “upcoming” I've already posted the first chapter lol! But, again, I have several story ideas that whenever I poke through my folders I get excited about someday actually writing them. Here is a teaser for an MCU fic involving Tony Stark and Obie (I still feel this was never explored enough – certainly not in fic):

They were doing a retrospective, ten year anniversary kinda... whatever. Unofficial, of course. Certainly nothing Pepper would have dreamed up even at her most drunk (which, honestly, was never her scene. Tony had sorta owned that space well beyond the time it had started owning him). Whose idea it ultimately had been? Frankly Tony couldn't give a fuck. That he was asked to be one of the speakers was slightly more... awkward. Awkward was the right word, yeah? Nauseating was certainly another and possibly a bit more accurate.

Dead for a decade and Obadiah Stane still managed to fuck with his life.

But... it hadn't always been that way. At least, not as he'd believed back when the Walkman had been on every kid's Christmas list.

He'd thought it was bonding; at the time. His dad had never been one for just hanging out; shooting the shit; telling tales out of school. No, Pops, when he bothered to interact, led with questions. “You keeping your grades up?” “You still seeing that floozy?” “When are you going to pull your head out of your ass and grow the hell up?” “You do realize it's my name you're disgracing every time you go on a bender?”

With Obie it was just, easy. Obie might ask about school but it was always with approval and pride. He would discuss Tony's conquests as though Tony had climbed Kilimanjaro wearing nothing but underwear and a cape.

Obie was there when his father wasn't. Which meant that Obie was always there. The first time he got astoundingly drunk on his father's scotch, Obie was the one to help him hunch over the toilet and vomit expensive, aged booze into the toilet. Obie was also the one to replace the depleted bottle to keep Howard in the dark. For a fourteen year old kid still trying to gain his dad's favor, that had meant everything.

He saw his first porn with Obie; sex education ala Traci Lords, three months shy of his fifteenth birthday. That was the same time he was introduced to weed. Obie had cautioned him to use it sparingly; didn't want to fry that genius brain, he'd say, and ruffle his hair. The porn had made him uncomfortable. Obie had turned it off and told him they could watch whatever Tony wanted. They'd ended up changing the station to Knight Rider; smoking and munching Cheetos and laughing over their orange fingers.

It was Obie who was there, arm around his shoulders, after his parents died. He desperately didn't want to sob in front of the man. Things were so complicated with his dad that all he felt was blinding guilt... as though some part of him had caused this. But Obie had filled him with bourbon until the emotions got soft around the edges and he'd sat beside the older man, head tipping gradually to the right until he was held up by Obie's shoulder. Obie had just slung an arm around him and let Tony pass out while he rubbed a broad hand up and down his bicep.

It was strange, now, looking back with adult perspective. A perspective that included Afghanistan and his intended execution while Obie talked about legacy and responsibility while Tony's lungs slowly seized. He'd taken the time to sit there – arm around Tony's shoulders while one broad hand traveled up and down Tony's bicep – just like when he was a kid and Obie was the whole world.

He'd tried to remember if it had felt so... tainted... at the time. Or if he'd always believed it was love.

Obie had never quite crossed that line. Though hindsight offered a peek into that possibility with enough clarity Tony had fought with his cramping gut for nearly thirty minutes. He'd staved off vomiting though he was fairly certain his dignity had still been in tatters what with Bruce wandering in on his misery.

Upcoming story you are most excited about (this is basically a repeat of the above question so I decided to change it. Do you have a future story idea you'd like to write that is not yet beyond the vague idea stage? I love stories that put Molly in some sort of jeporady and I have a barely formed idea to someday write a “stalker fic” of some sort and not I don't care that this trope had been done on repeat – I still love it lol! I have a smidge of writing for it:

“I need your help.”

As afternoons at Baker Street went, this was a mundane request heard so often that Sherlock's typical reply, “Obviously, or you wouldn't be here”, could have been printed on flash cards. The detective had actually made the suggestion after a particularly full day at the flat and having heard the statement no less than twenty times.

Today, however, Sherlock merely blinked for a moment. Then, with an awkwardness rare to a man with a lethal sort of grace in his movements, Sherlock gestured to John's chair, JOHN'S CHAIR, before taking his usual seat.

Molly didn't exactly smile but her lips edged up a bit before she sat.

John cleared his throat before pointing a vague hand towards the kitchen. “I'll just go make some tea, shall I?”

“No, please, I...” The stammer in her speech was not uncommon; though John couldn't recall such obvious fear. Forgoing the kitchen he, instead, took the hard wooden chair facing the other two.

“Molly, what's wrong?”

Tagging: @kitcat992 @mizjoely @sgam76 @ariaadagio @hanuko @ceruleanmindpalace

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broke-n-bitchy · 5 years

Text

Wicked Dreams

Part Three

Nikki Sixx / OC

http://broke-n-bitchy.tumblr.com/post/184255512272/wicked-dreams Part One

http://broke-n-bitchy.tumblr.com/post/184267030842/wicked-dreams Part Two

Part Three

Warnings: Drinking, drugs, alcohol, cursing, shit gets a lil steamy

Nikki Sixx / OC

-Lucy’s POV-

It had been three weeks since that day at the studio, we kicked off the tour last weekend. But the beginning was fucking brutal, and amazing at the same time.

My band and I busted our asses every single day, fifteen hours a day, perfecting our performances until we got it right. We sounded good, but it was the pizazz that Doc was worried about. Seeming as Motley Crue always put on a show that people would always remember, their opening band had to not be absolutely boring.

None of us minded, though. We got our chance, we took it and we gave everything we had to get here. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, and I have a lot of things I miss. But this? This was different.

We’ve also been getting along extremely well with everyone, see, I grew up with my cousin and when we were in high school, he was always in trouble. There were countless moments when I had to cover for him. So, the fact that Motley Crue was insane, meant they all got along very quickly.

I, however, enjoyed my quiet time every now and then. I mean, I loved my band, they’re my brothers. My family. But I’m the only girl on this tour and I liked a little time to myself.

It was always ruined, though.

“LUUUCYYYY!” I heard screaming outside of the tour bus and I looked up from the music lyrics I was going over for a possible new song.

“What the hell?” Standing up, running outside and busting out the door, I saw my lead singer, Alex, running past me butt ass naked. Vince was behind him, also naked.

“Why are you guys’ naked!?”

“We burned them in the trash can in the lobby! The COPS ARE CHASING US! LET US IN!”

We have been stopped off at this hotel room for not even ten fucking minutes. Doc was still getting our rooms signed in and set up.

Without responding, because honestly, I had no words. I stepped back into the bus and left the door in so they could run inside.

Sitting back down, and refusing to even look up for a second, I jogged a few more things down before closing my journal and shoving it into my bag.

“Hey, give me some of that,” I mumbled as Nikki followed behind shortly with a bottle of Jack in his hand, but without giving him a chance to answer, I snagged the bottle and took a few swigs. Feeling the burning sensation flow down my throat, and sighing in relief, he snatched it back.

-Nikki’s POV-

It’s been three weeks getting to know System Insomniac, and honestly, the guy’s were pretty cool. So was Lucy, she was a pretty good musician, not to mention she was hot. But the only thing was that every night, after getting off stage, she’d grab her smokes and her booze and just go back to her hotel room.

It was weird, she never partied. Everyone else did, hell, even Doc joined us a few times. Not to mention she always looked so fucking serious and was always writing shit down, I’ve never seen her relax once.

“Get your own.” Grumbling in frustration, I took my bottle back.

“Alex drank it all.” She retorted without looking up, I wish she would. Her eyes, goddamn. For some reason, I couldn’t get them out of my fucking head and it was annoying.

“Alright, I’m going to go to my room and take a shower. See you guys later.”

We were off for the night and our show wasn’t until tomorrow, so me and the guys were about to head out and party. Which, thank god. I’m out of blow.

“Hey, wait-” Grabbing her by the wrist, she turned to face me, there they were. I lost my train of thought for a second.

“What’s up?” She questioned, and snapping out of it, “Uh, we’re all going out, even your band. Why don’t you come and join us? I promise you, it’ll be a good time.”

I know she can handle her alcohol, she always has a flask tucked in her boot or bra, if not just carrying around the bottle itself. So, why didn’t she ever just come with us?

She hadn’t answered yet but she gently moved her hand over mine and removed it from her wrist, her brows were furrowed together and her nose was slightly scrunched, I noticed it did that when she was thinking.

Lucy always had something on her mind.

“Um, sure. But I’m still going to go get changed and freshen up.” She had finally agreed. And with that, she turned around, walked off the bus and headed into the hotel. Ryder, Sami, and Tommy all stepped onto the bus to grab their bags,

“Hey man, your cousin finally agreed to go out with us,” I told Sami while stepping off of the bus myself, taking a swig out of the bottle before passing it to Tommy while they followed behind.

“I don’t know why she hasn’t been coming out with us before, she was insane in high school. Never home, on benders, hardly ever sober. Hell, she’s still hardly ever sober. She just coops herself up. Even before we got here, she partied harder than we did. I guess she’s taking the tour a little too seriously.” Sami confided in me about his younger cousin. I thought it was kind of weird how they lived together since kids, and how they’re now in a band. But then again, that might be because I don’t really have any family of my own except for my bandmates, my brother’s.

“Hm,” I couldn’t help but smirk. Lucy used to party, I knew she fuckin’ had a wild side. Maybe I can help bring it out of her tonight.

We headed to our rooms, I changed into some leather pants, a halfway buttoned-down shirt, and put some cologne on before stepping out.

The guys’ were waiting for me in the lobby and I picked my head up to see Lucy coming out as well.

She was wearing this backless tight little black dress. Goddamn. Her hair was down in curls, her little feet were actually in a pair of heels. I was teasing her the other day about how my heels were higher than hers, I didn’t think she owned a pair. She always wore sneakers or boots.

But Lucy looked fucking gorgeous, no, not just gorgeous, she was sexy. Curvy in all of the right places.

“Hey,” She smiled once she saw me, “Ready?” She asked me and I nodded at her, “Cool, let’s go.”

“You look hot,” I blurted out, I was gonna tell her she looked beautiful but my mouth had other things to say.

“Why thank you, Sixx, you don’t look so bad yourself.” She winked before walking past me and I quickly followed behind her, watching her hips sway back and forth while my eyes trailed down to what I can only describe as a smackable ass, gazing upward to the flawless, fair skin on her back and that’s when I noticed it. She had a tattoo right below her left shoulder blade. All I saw was the petals of a rose, I wonder what the rest looked like.

-Lucy’s POV-

It had been about half an hour since we’ve gotten to the party, I didn’t know anyone here except the people I came with. It smelled like alcohol and sweat in here, music blasted throughout the place. I think we were at someone’s house? I’m not sure.

Everyone had disappeared so I don’t know where anyone is, I was standing in the kitchen, making myself another drink. Originally starting off with a few beers, it got boring, so I figured some hard liquor would help me loosen up.

There was a bottle of scotch, I couldn’t pronounce the name on it so it must’ve been expensive. Pouring some into a glass and taking a sip, “Oh my god, that’s so fucking smooth.” Finishing off the glass before just setting it down and taking the bottle, I made my way towards a different room.

“Hey, Lucy! Come do a bump with me!” I heard Tommy yell over the music, him and Nikki were settled next to each other on a couch, Tommy had his arm wrapped around some redheaded chick, and Nikki was leaning back with some brunette leaning into his ear.

Nodding, I made a Beeline over there and nestled myself between Tommy and Nikki, I’ve never snorted anything before unless you counted nasal spray.

I did party, a lot. But my extent was drinking, weed, and the occasional happy pills.

“I’ve never done blow before,” I told Tommy as he handed me the same dish I saw Nikki with on the first day I met them, even lines of blow spread across and there was a little black straw.

“I can show you,” Tommy said but I shook my head, “It’s just shit going up my nose, can’t be that hard.” I shrugged, sometimes I was too independent for my own good.

Leaning forward, I placed the straw barely in my nostril and placed the other end over the beginning of a line, snorting until I reached the end of it.

Handing the plate over to the redhead, she had her hand out for it, I waited a moment before wrinkling my nose and sneezing four times in a row. Everyone started laughing at me.

“Fuck you guys.” I flipped them off before picking up my bottle, tilting my head back as I chugged. My eyes were watering a little from the blow and this scotch was helping me feel better in every way. Plus, I think the drugs were starting to hit.

“Whoo! Thank you, Tommy,” Wrapping my arm around his lanky shoulders, I gave him a little squeeze,

“You’re welcome!” He responded, but then Nikki smacked his arm.

“You should be thanking me because I’m the one fuckin’ who fuckin’ paid for it!” Nikki told me, I turned to look at him, I didn’t deem him for a touchy-feely person unless it was with his girl for the night. But, I wrapped my arms around him anyways, “Thank you, doll.” I told him before leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. I fell quiet, taking a swig out of my bottle before Nikki snatched it from me.

He took a drink, “Shit, that’s good.”

“Fuckin’ right? I love scotch. I love scotch more than I love myself, but I checked the label, 500 dollars. That’s worth more than my car.” I randomly babbled, oh yeah, I got chatty when I was buzzing.

“Well, maybe if you’re nice to me I’ll get you another bottle later on,” Nikki said while making eye contact with me, I tilted my head to the side. I was always nice, a little sarcastic but never rude.

“I am nice,” I responded, a little confused.

“That’s not what I meant,” His free arm snaked around my waist and tugged me closer, the brunette on his right was giving me a deathly glare. I leaned in, tilting his chin upward until my face was barely centimeters away from his. I wouldn’t deny it, Nikki was fucking hot. His hair was messy and his makeup from yesterday’s show was faded across his cheeks, his lips were taunting me, and his cologne was fucking intoxicating. My eyes trailed from his down towards his bare chest as I licked my lips before meeting his eyes with my own again, “Never going to happen, Sixx.” And with that, I shoved him back, giggling to myself.

“We’ll see about that, Lovelace.” His voice was right in my ear, whispering to me while his fingers trailed ever-so-tenderly down my back. Fuck.

“I need some fresh air,” I said quietly before getting up, making my way outside so my entire body wouldn’t feel like it was going to burst into flames.

Nikki had a different girl with him every night, I wasn’t about to be another one on the list. It was never going to happen.

Or was it?

@slowandangry @rxsesinjune @fandomshit6000 @knightwhosaysnii @prettysureimgayxo @carmineharry @triplehaitches

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atmilliways · 6 years

Note

34 please

“Pickles/Nathan.”

It’s funny, I sincerely thought I had written something about this pairing at some point, but when I went back through my old fics… nuthin’. So. Here’s a thing, set during the “Keep the Party Going” bit of the Doomstar Requiem.

(mtl prompts list)

—

Out of the corner of his eye, Pickles saw Nathan pull out his dethphone. “Stop it,” he said automatically.

Nathan’s head snapped up with the speed of a guilty man who’d been consciously hoping not to be caught. “Stop what?”

Pickles sighed and fished around in his own pockets for anything interesting he happened to have on him, coming up some papers, a baggie of weed, and… a spoon. Damn. He sighed again and decided to start rolling a joint anyway.

“What?” Nathan insisted.

“Stop looking at the picture,” Pickles replied distractedly while he picked a nug apart over the paper, pausing only to sniff his fingers and try to remember if this was a sativa or an indica or somewhere in the middle. “We’re keepin’ the party goin’, not lookin’ at pictures of Abigail.”

“I… wasn’t,” Nathan mumbled, slowly lowering his phone.

“Dood, yer about as convincing as… shit, as this spoon. You got a fuckin’ lighter?”

Dutifully, the frontman patted his pockets and eventually produced a black and silver bic. Pickles finished rolling the joint, put it to his lips, and instead of taking the lighter just leaned in Nathan’s general direction and waited for a light. When it came, he took a hard pull and sat back, draping himself lazily against the couch cushions before letting the smoke out in a slow stream. He passed Nathan the joint and sighed again.

“I’ll put some hash in the next one,” he muttered aimlessly. “I think I got some around here somewhere…” But he made no effort to look for it, so that probably wouldn’t happen.

Ha.

Whatever.

Everything was fine.

“Hey. Hey, Pickles.” Nathan nudged the smoldering joint into his hand. “Uh… Can I ask you something?”

“Dood, if it’s about either of those two people that nonna us are talkin’ about, I don’t wanna hear it.” The drummer took his hit and passed it back. “Ash that.”

Nathan tapped the ash off the end over the coffee table. Nice.

“It’s not. Uh, about them,” he insisted.

“Alright, fine. What?”

The younger man’s face was screwed up in an agony of concentration. “You know… all that shit I said at the funeral? Before… that stuff happened? It’s not about that,” he said quickly, catching Pickles’ glare. “You know how I said… how I didn’t want something if it meant you not being in the band?”

Pickles raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…?”

It figured that Nathan was avoiding saying the S word again, but he hadn’t expected any part of that speech to be directly referenced again. It had been one of those in the moment things, and once it was all said everything was just settled and that was that, no need for dredging that emotional crap up again.

“Uhhhh…” Nathan took another hit, stalling for time while he collected his thoughts and attempted to put his words in some sort of coherent order. “Mmmmmngh never really wanted it in the first place.”

Pickles squinted through the smoke that was turning the air around them hazy. “What?”

Nathan heaved a sigh and took another hit, out of order but whatever. Then, belatedly, he passed the joint. “I never wanted her. I mean, you know. Not like… not enough to fuck up the band.”

There was a moment of silence while Pickles digested that and Nathan stared intently and the little pile of ash on the table.

“Dood, then why’d ya go after her?”

“Because I was pissed off!” Nathan burst out, glancing at him but then eyes sliding away almost immediately. “Because you were mad at me… about the album and, uh, hitting you in the face…”

Pickles groaned. “Ya know, it’d help if you didn’t keep bringing shit up and reminding me.”

“I know, I know. But listen.” Nathan was sitting hunched forward, his fists clenched and resting hard against his thighs. “You were pissed off at me, so I got pissed too. And then we were on the submarine and couldn’t jack off and you were acting like a fucking tool…”

“Again, not really helping, Nathan.”

“LISTEN.”

“Okie, okie, I’m listening.” Pickles took his third hit in a row, sharing be damned. The other man didn’t seem to want it right now anyway.

“I just wanted you to shut up about her. And… I did not go about that the right way. I know that now. But everything was fucked up.”

Between them, amidst the smoke, hung the reality that things were still fucked up. Toki was missing, Abigail might be dead, Charles didn’t seem to be sleeping anymore, and some guy with a beard wanted them to save the world — which, fuck the world, the world was shit-for-brains fucked up all on its own, not their fault or problem.

“So… I think I was jealous, I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Pickles groaned and scrubbed a hand over his goatee. “Well, yeah, Nate, that’s what happens when two doods go after the same lady.”

“Yeah, but…"

As dulled as his reactions were this far into the day — Pickles had been awake for a whole hour and a half, and he’d mostly had coke and beer for breakfast — he felt his stomach give a little cringe of anxiety. That thing, the thing they’d never acknowledged or talked about, ever, but somehow meant that even though by band agreement they weren’t friends they could still go on vacations together and call it a friender bender. That connection. That. Nathan was getting perilously close to actually saying something about it, he could practically taste it.

And that was so many kind of fucked up, but if everything was already fucked up anyway…

Nathan had vomited blood in public for him, for fuck’s sake. That was pretty brutal.

“… I was jealous ‘cause I didn’t want her to get you,” Nathan finished.

There.

Once it had been said, Pickles relaxed. He took another hit, then passed it back to Nathan, who took it and slumped back on the couch as though suddenly exhausted.

“Same, dood,” he said, smoke eddying from his mouth and nostrils with the words. “Same.”

#metalocalypse #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion #nickles #slow burn?#my fanfiction

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apollcs-blog · 6 years

Text

✩ — ❛ introduction. ❜

hello, everyone ! i’m admin fox and i’m honestly so excited to get this group going ! everyone’s characters are looking so cool and interesting i can’t wait to go through the intro tag & read up on them ! if you’d like to plot, please like this post or message me !

⋆ ◦ ° ⟡ ⌈ dominic sherwood ⌋ — have you met ezekiel ‘zeke’ thomas? they are a twenty-seven year old cis male that goes by he/him. known as the dirtbag, this homosexual scorpio is currently a drug dealer & aspiring filmmaker, and they can be dedicated + protective, as well as crass + paranoid. tan freckled skin. backwards snapbacks. blood-shot eyes.

✩ — ❛ about. ❜

zeke was adopted when he was six years old by matthew and elizabeth thomas in agnes water, where he was raised. zeke doesn’t remember anything about his biological family, having been abandoned at just three years old in the back of a church in sydney; it took the nuns nearly a day to find him there, hiding, and he was very malnourished and badly beaten. he told them with the best of his abilities that he didn’t have any parents, being raised by someone named “uncle jake” instead; the toddler couldn’t give more information other than that, though, and once nobody claimed him with the police he was given for adoption.

matthew and elizabeth were good parents, though zeke could never let go of the mystery surrounding his past; his interest in it fluctuated over the years, with some times ezekiel deciding he didn’t want any family that wasn’t the thomas, and times where he could barely sleep thinking about the life he never had. he spent the last few years trying to find his parents, or at least to figure out who was the man capable of beating a three year old nearly to death before abandoning him behind a church, but so far he hasn’t found much.

he’s a professional filmmaker, having gone to college the ny film academy australia for it, but he has yet to make a living out of his degree. as he waits for his big break, zeke sells weed, ecstasy and cocaine--- he’s been doing such since college, and despite being prone to smoking a bit too much of his marijuana stash, he’s pretty good at his profession.

the anna marie murder was exactly what ezekiel needed to make his filmmaker career launch; he’s currently writing and filming a documentary on the murder & its perpetrator, and it’s becoming a big obsession in his life: he’s constantly bothering the police force for more information, butting his nose where it doesn’t belong and collecting more evidence on it than the police was capable of doing.

✩ — ❛ pesonality. ❜

zeke’s personality changes drastically depending on who’s near him; to the people he cares about, he’s a caring angel, always ready to help and do whatever he can to make them happy. to the people on his bad side, however, zeke is reckless and violent, the kind of guy that punches before he thinks.

he loves the beach, and spends a lot of time on it, swimming and surfing or even just frying under the sun. typical deadbeat druggie of a small town really, he has never had an honest job in his life and will finesse his way around anything.

10/10 fuckboy unless you’re his family he really doesn’t care about your feelings and probably doesn’t even think about how his actions might hurt or harm other people.

gay as fuck and will always remember you of how gay he is; he was in the closet for most of his life, always afraid that he’d be shunned by his family and friends if he came out, but once his mother got tired of him skirting around the subject and straight up told him nobody gave a shit he’s gay it’s like he’s trying to overcompensate for all the years he pretended to be straight.

✩ — ❛ appearances. ❜

6′0 with bleached blond hair and tanned skin, his cheeks always a little too red from spending way too much time in the sun.

he.... hardly ever has a shirt on ? and when he does it’s halfway unbuttoned tbh the man hates wearing clothes.

9/10 times he has some time of glitter or body paint on him you’ll never not see his chest sparkling.

he really likes painting his nails which once again was something he never allowed himself to do but now that he’s out he’s always painting his nails different colors and he loves it.

he dyes his hair constantly, always in unnatural colors like blues and greens and pinks but always ends up going back to the bleached blonde he likes best.

✩ — ❛ wanted plots. ❜

two roommates :: zeke comes from a middle class family but since his main source of income is the drug fiends in town he doesn’t make a lot of money, sharing a crappy apartment downtown with two other people.

a best friend :: someone that has been by his side his entire life, he feels the most comfortable with his person. zeke’s probably very touchy with this person, and they are one of the few people in his life that zeke loves to touch in a platonic way.

a friend with benefits :: zeke doesn’t have a lot of experience in being intimate with men, but he’s down to try anything once and this guy is the first number he calls.

a protective friend :: between his obsessive benders and lack of care for his own well being, zeke doesn’t lead the healthiest of lives, and this person would be someone that looks after him–- sometimes, he just needs some first aid and some comfort, and this person is always there to give it to him.

a childhood friend :: since he was six, zeke lived in agnes water; this person was one of the first people who befriended him in town, and maybe they had a big falling out at some point, for reasons we can definitely plot out later!

friends of all kinds :: despite not being born in town and spending a few years of his adult life away, he knows almost everyone in town. he is very charming and polite, and loves to make friends with as many people as he possibly can.

an ex boyfriend :: this breakup would’ve been pretty recent, maybe in the past three months or so. he was the first man zeke was ever in a serious relationship with, and it probably ended because ezekiel has been consumed with his research on the anna marie murder and ended up spending less and less time with his boyfriend, to the point where they were barely in each other’s lives anymore.

#✩ — ❛ Z E K E :: drain those big blue eyes / INTRO. ❜#agnes.intro

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queenspirituality · 3 years

Text

to benzo,

ive decided to take some time out of my life to write a letter to you and for me too. Benjamin, I have been truly lucky enough to have the privilege of having you in my life for six years. I would like to take this moment in time to share with you my deepest gratitude towards you for lessons you've taught me, memories we've made together and special moments we have shared that i could never replace.

I sit here with my heart on my sleeve expressing to you my most heartfelt appreciation for our six solid years of dedication and perseverance with enduring this rollercoaster of a friendship. I am glad that we have stayed in contact with each others amongst all the other drama of our separate lives. I will forever cherish our connection for the rest of my life as it is unlike any other and I wouldn't change it for anything. These six years have been life-changing, and I mean that. I think we can both agree that these past six years have been eventful to say the least.

I was intending to only write this one single letter to you however I am now starting to realise the full extent of just how many precious moments we have shared over the years and I feel i won't be able to sum everything that I want to express up in one letter so with that being said I have decided to take my sweet time writing this letter and if I have any further thoughts id like to share with you I'll write another letter, and another and another until I have exhausted all brain motor and cognitive functions.

Anyway, I suppose I am steering off track a tad, so let me redirect your attention back to some of the good times weve shared together, particularly the first year of us dating each other and making so many unforgettable memories that I love dearly. When I reflect over all of our memories weve created over these years, it takes me back to the good times we've had, like and challenging times also, came to the beautiful realisation of how deep our love runs for one another.true depth of how far weve come from our first awkward encounter our past memories just how manycertain Heres to our many naive new beginnings and heres to our endless and countless promises of change, success and hope, of fresh starts and second chances that sadly never saw the finish line. We never stuck to our word or kept our promises to each other.

Nevertheless, from the very start, I believe 2017, you and me, we were honestly inseparable during our innocent and lust-filled honeymoon months. At the beginning of our goofy, naive and a little overly codependant relationship we shared together, you made me very happy for once in my life and I really developed a deep and intimate bond with you that I hadn't ever discovered with anyone else before in life. You were really special to me in that period of my life, you were my only real support system and best friend who I shared my deepest secrets, fears and insecurities with. You were my rock, my soul mate at that moment in my life, my bad-decision making bad influence of a boyfriend who did a lot of drugs which I wanted to partake in with him.

Even after our lowest of low moments, like our messy breakup which involved me asking your sister to pick you up because you were simply too emotional to pack your belongings or that other time when we were friends again but soon enough you practically moved right back in with me when I was living at Cornwall St. always making sure you were absolutely imposing upon my personal bubble, even when many times I asked for space which only resulted in you getting more clingy of me and deepened your attachment issues with me. It felt as if whenever I would demand space and time, you would decide to latch on even more, eventually leading me to give in and surrender to you.

The honest truth is there were difficult times with you exhausted me Ben. Both during the relationship and outside of the relo, in and out of our relationship, even when we were just friends with no strings or expectations just surrendered to your problems and gave my undivided attention to majority of the time I had to compromise my own wellbeing and personal integrity and wants and needs for myself because you were so expectant and needy of me to provide you with my undivided attention and affection when you attached to me like this, for me it was the easier path to take, even though it truly compromised my wellbeing and happiness your persuasive pleads an begs for my attention and affection many drug-filled and chaotic nights many nights, icking you out of m home, regardless if we were intimate or platonic at the time somehow lity we have someone managed to always gravitate back to each other over the endurance of six wholesome and adventurous years with you and for that I am endlessly grateful. naive feeling, overly codependant relationship with my little clingy but cute teenage stoner boyfriend who just wanted to smoke weed (4/20 blaze it) every day, talk skating with his boys and share his pure goofiness and love with those closest to him.

This letter was written for you and for me. For me because of my own self healing and to finally start my next chapter of life without you for a while (don't fret, i am to discuss this in greater detail for you further along in letter). We have to let each other respectfully go for good, for now.

I wrote this for you simply because i realised the depth of our history together and what better way to say one final farewell than to honour all those cherished memories we shared together over six intense years knowing each other. You deserve this so much and I care about you more than I truly express.

truly what a journey in life we have say shared together. Starting from our very first extremely awkward and absolutely cringeworthy 30 second encounter at one of mollies usual weekend gatherings she would throw any chance she could get, to our most recent and adventurous all night benders spent in cheap motel rooms, laying dead still in your room at your grandmas off limits house, to locking yourself inside my bathroom anxiously anticipating being busted by either my brother or my ex partner. All of the memories we have shared in between our initial meeting and most recent encounter I want to write abouts mainly for my own healing and growing but also for you, so you might just see things from my side of the fence.

Prepare yourself, as this will be one hefty and long-winded letter containing a rollercoaster of emotions and relayed past events both positive and negative, hopefully all neatly summarised into one final reflection of my feelings between us and this journey in life we've shared at the end.

So Ben, here goes nothing. I will start with when we first met at mollies place. Truthfully I couldn't keep my eyes off you, it was as if a magnet was attached to me and one to you and I was uncontrollably getting more invested and interested in finding out about you. I distinclty remember where you were sitting as I became more curious about you, next to Tobias on the couch beside the wall. I think you stayed sat there for the majority of the night, but nevertheless my eyes kept wandering back to you. I took some mdma caps that night and stupidly and spontaneously decided to go for a long ass nighttime bush walk with some guys from your high school (if I recall correctly it was ethan jensen and tom merrigan) through mollies creepy dark bush creek park she lives next to. Now that I think about it, I don't even think they were eager to come with me but they didn't want me going through that dangerous bushland area alone, especially in my state.

At that point during the night, to say I was way out of my mind would have been an absolute understatement as these narcotics were working in overdrive now, taking over my mind, body and any common sense i may have employed sober. Since this was still one of the first experiences I had with taking mdma, the experience was super intense and half of the night I felt as if I wasn't actually conscious or if I was conscious I had replaced old rubi with an upgraded, much more brave rubi that was suddenly in the mood to go walking straight into a potentially dangerous bushland area where hobos have squatted in before, did I mention at night, pitch black in there, with no street lighting except our eye vision. It was as if I did not care for danger or threats because I felt so high up on this cloud of euphoria that no one could touch me and I was totally protected from harm. Yes, my sober brain dies have more common sense and logic than that, however that one single feeling of pure euphoria pulsating through me was enough for me to want more of it, and more and so on and so forth.

And that is when i gained the confidence to start a conversation with you, or rather attempt to put a sentence together without looking proper munted from the drugs. I think we did speak briefly by the pool area and I recall you mentioning that you were in a relo with a chick named Emily. I didn't care about anything you were saying, I was so fucking ecstatic that somehow we ended up chatting to each other, even if it wasn't for long. I made a mental note of you in my head. I wanted to know you before I really had an idea of you. To sum up this first story, so now you know what my initial (& may I politely add extremely intoxicating) encounter with you from my perspective was like and my first impression of you: for me it was always from that very first glance of you that I became intrigued and I couldn't shake it one bit, even when you mentioned your relationship status with your cool girlfriend at the time. I wasn't listening, you were talking to a brick wall disguised as a pretty girl. I just remember how badly I wanted to know more of you, and I just had a gut feeling we would see each other again soon.

P.s. originally I was going to write one big letter to you and I yet I've realised just how many memories we've shared that I must write about. So instead I have decided to write each letter as a past memory or reflection of our experiences we've shared together over this six year rollercoaster.

First letter is completed, see you soon my friend.

P.p.s. OKAY YES, I can be super annoying (thoughtful, caring, kind, mindful, loving) and know JUST how much you truly cherish and adore (hate, despise, resent) my little life pep talks and lectures so benzo, especially for you I've decided to leave you some of my personal and unique little words of advice and wisdom rants just for you cos YOU DESERVE TO HEAR THEM SO READ THEM FOR ME FOR ONCE IN YOUR MEDIOCRE LIFE AND LET THEM SINK INTO YOUR BRAIN FOR GOODNESS SAKE YOU WONDERFUL BUT SOMETIMES LOST HUMAN BEING who deserves someone who will write personalised care letters because they are valuable and worthy and deserve love and lots of it.

10.10.2020

Word of advice #1:

Please take care of yourself, if not for yourself just do it for your little sister, she needs you more than you know. Feed yourself that second plate of homemade spaghetti bolognaise which YOU cooked with extra cheese and pasta, go mental person crazy in the shower, sing as loud as your lungs will fully permit you and sing those sad fucking sappy love songs you hate to love because they make you feel something instead of being aimlessly numb all day. AND FUCK, JUST do it, go ahead and get that girly lavender soap for your grandma because she let's you live in her temple and she means more than words could describe to you, write her a little letter too, go on and show your grandma some emotion for once, she worries about you and wants to see you prosper before she leaves you on Earth. Write about how lost in life you feel, or ask how lost in life she feels, maybe she's hurting too.

If nothing else, try remember that in life, we have one giant society consumed with human beings that can be very harsh and cruel and judgemental of your every GODDAM action.

In this clusterfuck of what society has labelled a life", we have constructed some outrageous and unrealistic expectations and laws and rules and ongoing policies and guidelines for our fellow law-abiding aife experiences, I have endured the worst kinds of days that stretch on and on, these days feelyo7u like you aren't contributing to society's overall desire for successful people and you keep missing the mark and when does it ever get easier for you, the past few years have just felt like one big snakes and ladders board game where you're piece is broken and won't stop descending down the snake, slowly slipping into the dark abyss of your april fools joke of a life (i say april fools because ive legit had some of the most soul-cursing life experiences that've got me full depressed to the point where it had a comedic level of patheticness may have this mindset at times, or not, that's ok. I frequently do. I do know when this dark never-ending tunnel or abyss or however you personally envision the dark periods in your life, has got me trapped so bad I may as well be submerged in sinking mud on a deserted island called 'No Hope Island a large can be hard to climb out of the sinking mud of your patheticness cietysh because it feels good, wash because people are cruel and you've been corrupted with their silly bullshit and you don't need their scent on your skin anymore, scrub your body until you can longer scrub, scrub your skin and don't stop until it is raw, red and numb. Don't call your that mate of yours today, hes doing hard drugs, he can't think straight therefore doesnt care for you as a genuine mate would and wants to see you in pain just as much as he is because in reality, it makes him feel slightly better about his pathetic situation because he has someone on the same level so now he feels less disgusted of who he has become. Tell me, is that a friend to you? A good friend who gets literal twisted pleasure and comfort out of watching you stick a needle in your arm and sell your soul to the devil. That same sinister devil who awaits you always so very eagerly every high you take. That devil demon who is always patiently waiting for you at the finish line of your come up. This monster you have let in, he has made himself a home in yours, he lays right beside you, breathing in your air and covering the room with dark shadows so you aren't reminded of how peaceful the daytime light looks in your bedroom. Yes, I assure you, as I have met him before in my sleep. He has told me that sometimes he watches over me in the darkest corner of my ceiling while I sleep, waiting for my fears and anxiety to emerge in my sleep. He is my sleep paralysis monster. He follows me everywhere I go now, i have no privacy from him. He is always there, watching and waiting for weakness. When I am weak and vulberable once I have had my dose of drugs, he likes to play a game called hide and seek. He hides and I seek. Sometimes I hide and he seeks. He hides himself deep within me, the way he enters into me is through my auraus just after I have taken narcotics and opened my auraus right up, when one is the most vulnerable to evilness of spirits. When I am anxious, he makes me go seek. I never want to seek inside but I am not to disobey his orders for that is when he will truly punish me with the insidious sleep paralysis, sleep deprivation, shadow people watching as an audience, inner demons invited on stage to surround you, the sickest feeling of fear and paranoia washing over your soul like sticky slime you can't remove off your skin no matter how many scratches you've inflicted upon your skin. Because of that one night with that one friendeedle,

Laying right beside you ou in your bed, as an unwanted shadow, n anticipation, the devil when your come down is creeping over you with a sheepish grin upon his face. has begun andat the end of your reality has set back in and the come down is creeping up on you of your high for you. Go ahead, if that's the life you want, nants you to go down like him, and that is just not part of hesgo to bed early, read that self-help book, try, just try to listen to your parents (even if they suck major sweaty hairy balls right know and are in the typical parent stage of not being completely and pathetically oblivious to you as a evolving adolescent boy that needs help and support and guidance from his parents because he feels sort of invisible and worthless in life right now and has been questioning for some time now his place in this world and what he means to anyone that cares for him and if his worthiness is even worth anything now or is he just too far gone to make it or start over fresh.

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baby-harrington · 5 years

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Hhhey !!!! Can you write HCs with Andrew Clark ? Reader and Andrew meeting during the breakfast club and they get together ? Hhh I’m sorry I’m not that creative djdjdj thank you in advance !!!!!

heyhey i love this idea!! this is quite short and not the best but i hope you like it anyway!!!

- so, you got detention

- needless to say you were pissed and so were your parents

- but you sucked it up and went

- you were on time but not the first to get there

- when you entered the library, people were already occupying a few seats

- one of your friends, brian, was along the middle row across from john bender, a notorious troublemaker

- along the front, however, sat some people you didn’t really know

- a pretty girl who seemed as though she couldn’t do anything wrong in her life

- and a rather attractive boy in a varsity jacket - he must be on a sports team

- you decided to sit in front of brian

- across the row from varsity boy

- so you could sneakily glance out the corner of your eye at him

- another girl entered too but you didn’t know her either

- then came vernon and his stupid essay idea

- the morning dragged on after he left

- bender was antagonising everyone and varsity boy (who you now knew was called andrew) was arguing back but you stayed quiet, not wanting to be in on their fighting

- it was pretty annoying to say the least

- and eventually you got fed up

- “look,” you spoke up, “can we all just agree that nobody is better than anyone else. bender, stop invading people’s personal business, claire, stop acting like you’re above everyone and andrew, stop retaliating because it’s only making him do it more!”

- there’s silence for a sec

- “finally, she speaks!” andrew grins towards you whilst claire and john grumble to themselves

- *blush intensifies* and you look down at your lap, embarrassed

- so then the focus turns to you now that they know you can actually speak

- everyone’s asking questions

- “what’s your name?” “how did you get in here?” “do you get on with your parents?” etc

- but andrew seems to be the most interested

- he sits across from you, leaning into the conversation, smiling and chuckling

- you can’t help but swoon over him

- even though he was pretty horrible to bender at lunchtime which upset you, especially when he called bullshit on bender’s home life

- you still couldn’t help but glance over to him whenever you got the chance

- he offered you some of his lunch

- “I don’t wanna be greedy and eat all this to myself, so you can take some if you like, y/n”

- when you headed to bender’s locker to get his weed and were running through the halls, andrew grabbed your hand as you escaped from vernon

- in the library, he offered you his joint and you smoked together, laughing and leaning into each other lazily

- you clapped and cheered when he was springing about, doing flips and cartwheels and flinging his shirt around

- it was pretty hot cool when he did that

- and when the group formed their little circle after coming down from their highs, you two sat closely, shoulder to shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around your waist

- when he confessed his troubles, you comforted him, rubbing his back and pulling him in for a hug

- he did the same for you when you told them about things you weren’t happy with, and he stroked your hair comfortingly too

- when you all cheered up afterwards by dancing, andrew took your hands and spun you around, grinning and laughing and singing

- you were out of breath by the end of it

- on the railing afterwards, he held your hand whilst claire discussed the essay with brian and took allison to do her makeup

- whilst they were out of the way, andrew looked up at you

- he was infatuated

- you were so pretty and kind and he’d learned so much about you already from just one day of detention

- he just had to have you

- “hey, y/n?”

- “yes?”

- “I was just thinking,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “do you wanna go somewhere together sometime? like a date?”

- your cheeks heated up and your stomach did a flip

- “of course, andrew, I’d love that”

- he squeezed your hand a little tighter

- at the end of the day you headed out together

- and he gave you a tender kiss in front of your father’s car

- “see you on monday?” he asked hopefully

- “yeah, see you then” you replied

- he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders and then you headed to the car, waving to him as you left

- he watched as you went, already dreaming of seeing you again on monday morning

#andrew clark #andrew clark imagine #andrew clark x reader #the breakfast club #the breakfast club imagine #the breakfast club x reader #andrew #imagine #request

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freespiritcreations · 4 years

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The Long Lost Diary of Teenaged Yaya

Hey guys, how have you all been? As for me, for the past few weeks, I’ve been watching a lot of films pertaining to youth culture. I’ve seen all of the episodes of HBO Max’s “Euphoria” (2019), along with the movies “The Breakfast Club” (1985), “Mean Girls” (2004), “Mid-90’s” (2018), and “KIDS” (1995). Although all of these films take place at different times periods, their portrayal of youth culture is not too different from my reality.

I can definitely say that there were some characters who go through certain life experiences that I can relate too. Especially Kat Hernandez from the tv series Euphoria. Kat is a chubby girl who struggles with receiving and accepting love from other boys. She is also insecure about her weight, and confused about her identity. I personally know how it feels to grow up like Kat.

First of all, I too had that one summer as a middle schooler where I came back twenty pounds heavier. Most of the boys in my former middle school found me repulsive because of my size.

Also, like most girls, I was curious about the concept of human intimacy. There were times when I would express my fantasies through creating explicit drawings and writing odd stories. However, my drawings never pertained to any acts of sexual activities. Instead, they were drawings of sensual looking sonic characters.

Most of the time, I would draw a specific character that I named Miu. Miu was supposed to be a cross between a lion and a wolf because those were my two favorite animals.

I choose to draw anamorphic characters because it was like I was creating a world where everyone was imperfect and perfect at the same time. Every time I would draw, it felt like I was escaping to a world where everyone was a mess. But, we were all beautiful creatures because of our differences inside and out.

In a way, Miu was drawn to be who I envisioned to look like and to become. I was incredibly insecure about the way I looked. Unlike Kat, I stopped growing when I was only twelve years old. So, I will forever be four feet and eleven inches tall. And, being fat and short at the same time doesn’t mix so well. Because of this, consistently drawing Miu was comforting to me.

As far as my stories, they too were also a bit different from Kat’s writings . I would often write fanfiction novels that were based off of my own life. For example, I would write love stories about me and whoever I had a crush on. In those stories, we could be in the world of Pokemon, Inuyasha, or any other anime shows. Yeah, I know, I was a very weird yet creative pre-teen. However, I didn’t have the balls to post them like Kat did.

As I got older, I had similar experiences in promiscuity too Kat. Just like her, it felt empowering to have some type of sexual control over guys. In fact, the more I felt that way, the more my identity started to change. I went from looking like a geeky nerd, to looking like a 80’s high school dropout, and finally I look like some kind of urban looking goth chic. My identity change increased my confidence over the past years.

However, that type of lifestyle does have its drawbacks. Similar to Kat ,after some time it became harder for me to recognize boys who actually had genuine feelings for me. I would try to push away those who showed me a lot of affection because I often feel like it’s a set up. Because of this, it is difficult for me to accept that kind of attention from guys. Overall, I can relate to most of Kat’s youthful experiences.

In addition to Kat’s personal experience, I’ve noticed a few common themes that these films share. These themes include teenage rebellion, drug abuse and dealing with relationship issues. Although these themes were portrayed in a fictional setting, they do resemble traits of contemporary youth culture. I can even relate to these themes from my own personal adolescent experiences.

I’m pretty sure most teenagers go through the challenges or phases at one point or another. Just like in the films, there was at least one character that had gone through these issues. For instance, Bender from The Breakfast Club had a reputation of being a bully and causing trouble. His behavior resulted from his unstable home life. Rue Bennette from Euphoria started abusing drugs once her family was breaking up. Stevie from Mid-90’s started hanging around a rowdy crowd because had no one else to look up to. Maddy from Euphoria continued to stay in a toxic relationship even though she was aware of it’s conditions. In a way, my adolescent life was similar to theirs.

I can say that I definitely went through a rebellious phase by the time I was in high school. However, there were certain situations that lead up to that point that were similar to Rue Bennette from Euphoria and Stevie from Mid-90’s. When I was about ten years old, my parents had gotten into a nasty divorce. Not too long after, my step dad Fritz came into my life. His presence had felt threatening at first because I feared that he was going to replace my dad. Around the same time, I was diagnosed with bipolar depression. At the time, my mom treated me like another mental patient. My dad wasn’t really around, and my step father didn’t understand my mental illness. My moods started to become so unpredictable that it was extremely hard to hold onto friendships.

By the time I was fifthteen years old, I started to smoke weed, sneak out at night, sneak boys inside my room, get into physical altercations, steal from others, and unexplainably start irrational arguments. It seemed like the only thing I didn't do was let my grades drop. Somehow, I was able to maintain a high GPA while acting like a tyrant.

By that time, I had an estranged relationship with my family. My mom and I would constantly fight almost every other day. Although my step dad tried his hardest to earn my trust, I continued to resent him as my father. My little sister was so hellbent into tarnishing my reputation, that she would vindictively tell my friends and her own that I was crazy and to stay away from me. She would also purposely pick fights with me in front of her friends, so I could respond irrationally in front of them. She would do this just to further prove her point about me.

I felt so alone when I was a teenager, so I decided to look for acceptance elsewhere. I started to sleep around with boys who I knew were emotionally unstable trouble-makers. I also started to hang around gang affiliated teenagers with no ambition to better themselves. It had felt like my family, friends, and even my own teachers had seen me as no different from them because of my mental illness. So, I thought that that was where I belonged. They lost hope for me, so I began to lose hope in myself. I didn’t care where my actions would lead me, I just wanted to be a part of something. Even if I had to hurt or deceive others just to feel like I mattered to someone.

That’s what I thought at first, until my rebellious behavior caught up with me. When I was seventeen, there was one guy who I had a friends-with-benefits type of relationship with. He pretended to be interested in me, so he could find out where I lived. He had teamed up with my so-called “friends,” and they all robbed my family while we were at my brother’s wedding. That was the same day that I found out my step father’s cancer had gotten worse, and he was going to die soon.

Fritz died the day before Thanksgiving that year. His passing inspired me to better myself. I stopped being around a bad crowd, and began to improve my behavior.

That’s when I met the love of my life Cristian in my late teenage years. We had gotten so close because we both lost a parent to cancer the same year. As well as that, we both suffered from bipolar disorder. It actually felt like someone understood me for once in my life. I was finally receiving the love I’ve been longing for. What made things better was that he actually loved me for who I am and not just for my body. He even accepted my past as well.

However, because neither of us were receiving professional help for our disorder, we would often engage in violent fights and arguments. Eventually, we were engaged to be married, but our relationship was falling apart at the same time. I started to smoke weed nonstop. It felt like for the entire two years I was constantly high. I can’t even remember a time when I was sober for an entire day back then. I even started to experiment with other harder drugs, such as ecstasy, cocaine, and LSD. I was in denial that my life was falling apart. I wanted to num the painful thoughts of losing my father, my family’s trust again, my relationship and my mind.

Eventually, I stepped out of the relationship which ultimately ended it. I began to rebel again which pushed people away from me even more. When I had gotten arrested and was facing pending charges, that’s when I vowed to myself to regain my life again no matter what challenges I faced. I started to seek professional help, and I even regained my family’s trust again. I was gaining back the friendships that I had lost, and I started smoking weed only once a day.

It had seemed like my life was getting back to normal, until I saw Cristian again. The last time I had seen him, we had gotten into a very bad fight which stopped us from communicating for at least a year. When I saw him, we cleared the air and squashed any kind of bad blood we had for each other. He wanted to get back together with me, but I declined his advances. He was still persistent in wanting to at least regain a friendship again. So, we decided to work on that. That night, something inside of me told me to hug him, but something was preventing me from doing so. I wish I had given him that hug because he died two weeks later from a drug overdose.

The night of his candle lighting ceremony, his best friend told me that he had seen him the same night he passed away. He told me that Cristian was talking about me that night. Apparently, Cristian was telling him that he was excited that him and I were friends again. He also told me that Cristian’s plan was to get back together with me. That was the last time someone had ever loved me.

So yeah, my adolescent life was an absolute mess. To be honest, this entire experience was incredibly traumatizing for me. But, after watching those films, it made me realize that somewhere in the world, I’m not the only one that goes through hard times. I truly believe that the themes from these films resonate with the ugly side of contemporary youth culture.

On another note, the soundtrack for Euphoria had greatly impacted the narrative of the story entirely. I mean, what doesn’t go well with music nowadays. Soundtracks have a way of further emphasizing the focal point of a story. Especially, when the lyrics and meaning to a song matches perfectly with the situation at hand, as well as the movements being seen in the film. A soundtrack with these qualities emotionally connects an audience to the characters in order to empathize with what they are going through.

If I could pick ten songs to put on a soundtrack based on my adolescent life experiences, they would all be songs that were made at different time periods, including the ones that weren’t out yet at the time.

The first song I would choose for my soundtrack would be “lovely” by Billie Ellish and Khalid. The song is about being in a dark place in life and wanting to get out of it. This song is a perfect example of how I felt when I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder. During that time, I was battling depression because of my parents divorce. Not only that, I was being severely bullied while I was in middle school for liking anime. Other students would harass me and leave death threats in my locker. They would do this because they also accused me of being a lesiban just for watching anime. My mental illness had gotten so bad that I was in and out of hospitals, homeschooled, and then eventually placed in special education classes just for having a mental illness. I was at the lowest point of my life and often had thoughts of suicde. I wanted so desperately to be happy again like how I was when I was kid. I wanted to live a life of no worries and live shamelessly, but I didn’t know if I was ever going to overcome my depression.

The second song of my choice would be “Drop the World” by Lil Wayne and Eminem. The song is about letting out your frustration on society by reatulationg on the world around you. Like I mentioned before, by the time I was in high school, I went through a rebellious phase. I made careless and risky decisions because of how isolated I had felt from society. I didn’t have anyone I could talk to about how I felt, so I would bottom up all of my emotions until I would lash out on people. After a while, my behavior became a part of me. I turned into a selfish narcissistic person who wouldn’t listen to reason. I was so full of anger because of how I was being treated, so I began to treat everyone around me horribly in retaliation.

The third song of my choice is “Under the Influence” by Chris Brown. This song is basically about the feeling of being high while undergoing sexual intercourse. It also explains how his sex appael had gotten his partner lustfully addicted to him. Obviously, I won't go into too much detail, but this song describes exactly how I felt during my promiscuous adventures. For the most part, I was extremely high during those circumstances. I did it in order to not feel so guilty about my activities while feeling extremely relaxed during the process. In a way, it was just another addiction. It was also just another outlet for me to num the pain. Even so, the guys would not get enough of me. For some reason, they just keep coming back for more even years later. Somehow, I became extremely desirable amongst the boys in my class despite my weight.

Anyways, the fourth song would be “idontwannabeyouanymore” by Billie Ellish. In a nutshell, the song is about how girls negatively envision themselves based on discouraging criticisms of their appearance. After the robbery situation, I began to reevaluate my life and who I was becoming. It took me sometime to realize that I did not like who I was becoming. I had even heard numerous rumors about myself regarding my sexual prerogative. A lot of people started to call me a whore, and I started to become ashamed of myself. However, I didn’t want to change that specific aspect about myself. I didn’t understand why it was okay for boys to be sexually active but not for girls. I wanted to change my behavior, but I didn’t want to completely change who I am. I wanted to accept my interests while becoming a better person.

My fifth song of choice would be “Heaven” by Beyonce. The title itself is pretty self explanatory, but overall the song is about losing a loved one. My step father was one of the best guys I’ve ever met in my life. He stepped in to be a father figure when my biological father walked out of my life. He was a smart, kind hearted, and considerate man. When he passed away, I was in denial about his death for about three months. Once I came into terms with it, the only way I was able to handle it was by telling myself that he was no longer suffering or in pain. Additionally, this song was already prior to his passing. Therefore, I found a lot of comfort with this song while I was grieving his loss.

The sixth song for my soundtrack would be “Love Yourz” by J. Cole. For a long time, I used to compare my appearance and life with other students who I thought were better than me. During my first healing process, I was starting to become grateful for the challenges I was beginning to overcome. I also tried telling myself that things could be worse off, and I tried to love myself for who I am while I was trying to improve myself. This song relates to a lot of what I dealt with during my healing process.

The seventh song for my playlist would be “How to Love” by Lil Wayne. The lyrics in this song remind me a lot of a reflection of my earlier troubled teenage life. If you listen to the song, the rapper talks about how men play a role in the way women view themselves and behave. Looking back, I can say that the lack of affection from my biological father had definitely impacted my life negatively. It had shaped me into becoming the person who I was. I honestly didn’t realize how much that had affected me until I started going to therapy. That goes to show how much an absent father can affect a young woman's life.

The eighth song would be “Losin Control” by Russ. This song elaborates how a toxic relationship affects the way a woman handles a stable one. When I first got with Cristian, I didn’t know how to accept his love and affection. I would accuse him of similar accusations that the previous men in my life have committed. However, Crisitan remained as patient as he could with me. Even when we would argue, he also made sure that we never went to bed angry. At the end, Cristian really did love me for who I am. He also didn’t know how to handle it because of his past trauma.

The ninth song for my soundtrack would be “WE ARE CHAOS” by Marilyn Manson. The gist of this song is that people are naturally a mess, and there’s nothing we can do about it. When my relationship with failing and my life was spiraling out of control, I started to lose touch with reality. Because I was constantly high, I didn’t feel like I was living. I felt like I was existing. It was like I was no different than a piece of furniture. I was there but I am not here, if that makes sense to you.

The final song I would choose for my soundtrack would be “Keep Holding On” by the cast of Glee. There are a couple of reasons why I choose this song. The first reason is because of the meaning of the song. This song inspires me to continue to move forward through bad situations. It also reminds me that I’m never alone, and that I have people in my life that have my back no matter what. The second reason is because the show Glee is one of my favorite comfort shows. That show has helped me overcome a lot of obstacles in my life. This also includes the episode when the characters had performed while singing that specific song. That sentimental moment has helped me so much when I used to watch it in high school.

Well that’s enough blogging for one day. Thank you for taking the time out of your day by reading what the hell I had to say. This blog post really lets you inside of my personal past, so please do not judge me for that. I am who I am. And, I’m no longer ashamed of my past. I hope this post inspires you and others to live your best life unapologetically no matter how you grew up. Don’t forget to not let your past or any mental illness define you as a person. You are more than that, and that’s what makes you special. Talk to you guys another time.

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were-cheetah-stiles · 7 years

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The Recruit (Chapter 32) - Mitch Rapp

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “Day 116″

Characters: Mitch Rapp, Stan Hurley, Irene Kennedy & Reader/OFC

Author’s Note: The first block of italicized text is Day 109. The second block of italicized text is Day 111. All regular text is Day 116. Also, I think it is important to note that the truth probably lies somewhere between Stan and Ghost’s stories about how Brandon became Ghost.

Summary: By Day 109, Y/n and Mitch have returned back to Virginia and back to The Barn to finally collect their things before heading up to New York, when Stan decides that it is finally time that Y/n learns the truth. On Day 111, Y/n stops by Irene's office at Langley to discuss specific arrangements. But on Day 116, Y/n finally becomes a legitimate CIA agent and discusses hers and Mitch's future's with The Agency.

Chapter Thirty-One - Chapter Thirty-Two - Chapter Thirty-Three

“Y/n?" Stan knocked on the doorframe and Mitch and your heads shot up. The two of you had been milling about your bedroom, packing it into boxes, readying you to move out of The Barn for good. Mitch took a solid four minutes to pack his bedroom up, as he had not brought much with him in the first place. You, however, had made The Barn into your home over the years, and you had to put things in boxes. However, your arm was in a sling since being shot back in Istanbul, and Mitch volunteered to do most of the heavy lifting.

Mitch glanced over at you to see what you would do. You sneered at Stan, but couldn’t help your curiosity. "What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you.. alone, if possible."

You shook your head. "If you want to stay, then Mitch stays too."

Stan sighed, but took the invitation that he got. He closed the door behind him and examined the room. It was bare, which upset him, as he was going to miss having you around every day. "Can I?" Stan gestured to your wooden desk chair, and watched as you nodded. "Uh, if you would.." Stan gestured to your bed, as he sat down across the room in your chair. You remained standing next to your dresser, with Mitch behind you.

"I asked Irene not to send you on that mission." Stan began, starting off the conversation on the wrong foot.

You tisked your tongue against the backs of your teeth, and bit lightly at your top lip, all while shaking your head. Mitch sighed behind you; he knew that comment would piss you off. "So you could continue hiding my fucking brother from me? You son of a fuc-"

"No, no! Shit." Stan sighed and dropped his head. "Okay.. No, I didn't want you finding out about him like that, but I- oh god, I don't know, Y/n. So much time had passed and there would have been no good time to tell this story."

"Am I supposed to feel bad for you right now, Stan?" You asked, contorting your face in anger. "I don't need to listen to this." You stepped towards the door and placed your hand on the knob, when you felt Mitch grab your wrist to stop you.

"Y/n/n... you're going to regret not hearing his side of the story. Come on.."

You relented to Mitch, and followed him over to the edge of your bed. The two of you sat down next to each other, and Mitch remained holding your hand, partly to comfort you and partly to keep you in place. Stan began his version of the story.

"Brandon said.."

You cut Stan off. "Don't call him that." You gripped Mitch's fingers tightly in your hand, redirecting your rage. Mitch happily took it.

"Uh.. Ghost..." Stan glanced up at you, who remained silent, so he continued. "Ghost.... no, fuck, I'm sorry, Y/n, but this is about your brother, not Ghost. Brandon was getting into trouble back in 2001. He was falling in with the wrong crowd at school and your parents had a meeting with his principle, that afternoon, to discuss whether they should pull him out and send him somewhere else or whether the administration felt that they could turn things around."

"School had just started though.. how had he already...."

"It had started before the last school year had ended. He came home drunk, got into a fight with your Dad.." Stan rubbed his hand back and forth over his thin salt and pepper hair. He started his next sentence a few times, always changing how he was potentially going to approach the story. He finally decided on a path. "On September 11th, 2001, your brother was supposed to go to work with your parents and then they were all going to go down to the school for the meeting. But, I guess he had snuck out the night before because he wasn't in his bed when your parents went to wake him up."

A thought occurred to you, and you had to know. "Would.... would they have... they would've been at the meeting instead of in the North Tower when the planes hit if Brandon had been there, wouldn't they?" Stan nodded slowly, and you buried your face in Mitch's shoulder. Mitch let out an angry sigh as he stroked your hair to calm you, as you cried softly into his shirt.

"Where was Brandon that morning, Sir?" Mitch asked, finally speaking up.

"He was at a friend's apartment down in the Bowery... he was high off his ass. He had gotten into the rich kid shit, you know what I mean? Coke and booze and weed and pills... I don't know how kids these days even get their hands on that shit in the first place but he was getting in deep." You lifted your head and wiped the tears from your cheeks. You were stunned.

"I had no idea, I mean, I thought he was just getting into trouble like all teenagers do.. I had no idea."

"You were nine, Y/n, your parents wanted to keep you young and innocent. They didn't want Brandon's issues to become your burden." Stan tried to comfort you.

Mitch contorted his face in annoyed confusion and spoke up again. "I don't understand how we get from a fifteen year old Brandon doing coke down in The Bowery with his friends to Ghost doing what he did last week."

Stan scowled at Mitch, but he knew that he would have to explain. He just didn't appreciate Mitch's presence or involvement in his family's business. You perked up. You didn't understand that either, and you still weren't sure what the truth was. You felt your rage towards Stan bubbling back up under the surface again.

Stan continued. "Have you ever thought about how long it took me to get to you on that day, Y/n?" Stan asked.

"...The bridges and tunnels were closed.. the subways and PATH were shut down.. the city was.."

Stan cut you off. "But for someone like me? Someone with my connections? You never thought about it?" You furrowed your brow. The thought somehow never occurred to you. "Brandon called me sometime around noon when one of his shitty friends went outside and saw the smoke and asked someone what had happened. He told me where he was, and I knew.. Your Dad was my best friend, and he kept me informed as to what was happening with you kids. I knew what Brandon being in the Bowery instead of at school on a Tuesday morning meant. I used my connections and I got to him within the hour. I was already on my way up to Manhattan after the news broke that morning. But he was so high... I didn't want you to see him like that, so I sent him down here with Aiden."

"Aiden?" Mitch asked. "Breen?"

Stan nodded. "He came up with me that morning, and he took Brandon back in the helo we hitched a ride in. I hoofed it the rest of the way to you." Stan looked at you, an apathetic look resting on your face.

"So, you did keep him from me?" You accused.

"I was only going to for a few days. No one was thinking logically at that point, and that's not an excuse, but it's what I've got. I wanted to get him clean, so I sent him to The Barn with Aiden for a week." Stan sighed and shook his head, staring down at his shoes against the mahogany wood floors. "We tried rehabs, but he kept falling back into trouble, and he was aggressive... he was angry."

"What was wrong with him?" Mitch asked, and you scowled up at him, then whipped your head around when Stan answered.

"So many things. I didn't realize any of them until I asked Tom Lewis to come and observe him many years later."

"Who's Tom Lewis?" Mitch asked.

"He's a clinical psychologist... a friend of Stan and Irene's.. he freelances for The Agency sometimes. You saw him. He was the guy who was sort of hovering around The Barn your second week there." You reminded Mitch of a man that he had all but forgotten about and had always assumed was either one of Stan's bosses or an instructor that stayed behind the scenes. "What'd Lewis say?" You asked Stan.

Stan rubbed his rough palm over his face, dragging his hand down the bridge of his nose and towards his chin. "A lot of technical doctor shit, but basically, Brandon suffered from auditory hallucinations. He was hearing voices that weren't there, and he was trying to drown them out with the drugs. He was angry, and he barely controlled that. He had issues with impulse control and a real obsessive personality. He was just deeply troubled, and we got him on meds but he wanted nothing to do with them. He said that the routine and the exercise of The Barn was what was best for him, and it seemed to be helping to curb his behavior so, we got him a tutor and he finished high school from The Barn."

"If... I was here in the summers in high school. Are you telling me that I saw Brandon then but didn't recognize him?" You questioned, trying to poke holes in Stan's story.

Stan shook his head and continued rubbing his hands together, nervously. "When you and Beth and the boys would come here in the summers, Brandon would go off to The Farm to learn more tradecraft. Your third summer here, Brandon was already a part of Orion and going on missions though. He was convinced that he could find UBL and take out Al-Qaeda, and fuck if that boy didn't try."

"He was going after UBL?" Mitch questioned, surprised at the high priority target.

"Yea, he went down to Gitmo a few times and interviewed KSM in an effort to get leads on UBL, but nothing panned out, then when Seal Team Six took him out in 2011, he kind of went on a bender. I tried to get him to give up his plans and finally go to see you, Y/n, I really did..... But he just kept saying, ‘I can't see her until the people who killed our parents are all dead. She deserves that peace, she deserves it.’"

You were getting angry. You stood, held back by Mitch's grip on your wrist. "I DESERVED A BROTHER!" You yanked at your arm, but Mitch wouldn't relent. "Let me fucking go. I need a break from this bullshit. I need some air." Mitch let go, and he and Stan watched you walk out of your bedroom, slamming the door behind you as you went.

Mitch sat in his spot on your bed and stared at Stan. "What was with all of the cuts and scars on his body?" Mitch asked.

Stan raised his head, and grimaced. "He embedded with some locals in the mountains in Afghanistan with a group of four other agents. The mission went south real fucking fast because Brandon couldn't keep his anger in check. He and the others got taken and we knew where they were but..." Stan paused and shook his head. "More lives would have been lost than would have been saved if we had gone in to rescue them. They tortured and fucked with them. Three died. Brandon and that Jennifer Blake zealot survived.. Maybe if I had gone for him, none of this would have happened."

Mitch shook his head. "It doesn't really matter what you should've done then, now, does it?"

"It does to her, you little fuck." Stan pointed to the door, but was gesturing for you.

"I think deep down, she knows the truth. It'll take time, but she'll come around."

"You clearly don't know how stubborn she is." Stan scoffed at Mitch's bullshit optimism.

"I'm sorry Mitch couldn't come to the ceremony." Irene apologized to you as the two of you walked away from the graduation ceremony at The Farm. You were now officially a member of the Central Intelligence Agency.

"It's fine. He's not a part of the CIA and anyway, I suppose people aren't really supposed to know about him, or us, so.. It's fine." You half-smiled up at your new boss and longtime friend.

"Y/n, can you meet me back at my office in, oh, I don't know, about an hour?" Irene checked her watch and then adjusted it back under the sleeve of her suit jacket.

"Is everything okay?"

Irene nodded and then smiled. "We need to discuss your next assignment." She patted you on the shoulder and then stepped inside of the idling black SUV on the street. She paused before she closed the door, and looked at you. "I'm proud of you, Agent Hurley."

"Thank you, Ma'am." You nodded once, then watched Irene close the door as the car pulled away, leaving you on the curb alone, watching as Irene drove back to Langley.

"You asked to see me, Ma'am?" You glanced at Stan, sitting in one of the club chairs in front of Irene's desk. He barely looked up. Mitch had been right. You believed his version of the story, and you had begun to mend fences over Ghost, but you were still livid at him for lying to you for so long. The trust had been broken and the relationship was teetering on a state of disrepair.

"Come on in, Hurley." Irene glanced up from behind her desk and gestured for you to sit next to Stan, which you begrudgingly did. "How's the arm?"

You looked down and gently rubbed the fabric on your dark blue sling. "It's fine, Ma'am. Doc said I needed to wear the sling, but I think it's healing just fine without."

"Well, why don't we keep listening to the doctor's anyway? That thing was pretty infected by the time we got you to the hospital in Rome." Irene picked up her coffee mug and loudly sipped from it, then pressed her elbows against the wood grain of her desk, focusing in on your face. You nodded at Irene's instruction, and Irene decided to end the pleasantries. "Y/n.." Irene paused. "I don't know how to start this.. We brought Bran.. um, Ghos... uh... the body.. back to the States with us."

"Okay.." You looked over at Stan, who had sunk further into his chair and refused to make eye contact with you. "What are you planning on doing with it?"

"Well, considering you are his next of kin, that decision is yours." Irene explained.

"Is that why you brought it back here? For me?" You were getting slightly agitated.

Irene furrowed her brow and then nodded. She wasn't sure what she thought your reaction was going to be anymore. Part of her expected you to be grateful for the opportunity, but Irene realized that maybe she didn't know the young woman sitting in front of her as well as she once did. Irene thought back on the events of the past few weeks and the past few months and contemplated how they had been shaping you. They had made you a bit more detached; more of a killer.

You cleared your throat and shook your head. "I didn't ask anyone to do that."

"We.. I... well, Thomas and I, we assumed.." Irene was referring to her boss, Thomas Stansfield, and she realized she had made an error in judgement. "I'm sorry, Y/n. We wanted to allow you and Stan and your family to grieve properly.. to bury him."

You stood, your tight black pencil skirt smoothing back over your legs as you straightened up. Stan and Irene stood in reaction to you. "I buried my brother when I was nine years old. That man was so far from the boy that I remember, it would be a disservice to Brandon's memory to even..." You paused and shook her head, her face was crinkled with anger and disgust and pain. "I grieved properly. I still do. I didn't need the bodies to say goodbye."

"I'll take care of it then." Stan offered, but you shook your head once more.

"No. He wasn't my brother, but I still know what Ghost would've wanted. Cremate him and spread his ashes in the Mediterranean; that's clearly where he wanted to die." You spoke in a detached and clinical manner. You had no emotional ties to the monster that your brother grew to be.

"I'll take care of it." Irene promised.

"Do you need me for anything else, Ma'am?"

Irene shook her head. "You can go, Hurley."

"Thank you, Ma'am." You walked out of the room, but Irene and Stan remained standing, simply staring at each other wordlessly.

"Mitch, I am so pleased that you have managed to prove me right. You are quickly becoming our country's greatest asset. Everything you did last week... you have really turned out to be everything I hoped and more."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Mitch sat in front of Irene in a black sweater, pulled over a crisp white dress shirt with the collar poking out, and black dress pants. His hair was neatly combed for once and only the semblance of a five-o-clock shadow could be found on his face. He longed to leave Langley and get away from the formalities, however.

"Because you are not CIA, though, Mitch, you and I can work out the details of how you think your time with Orion versus how I think your time with Orion should go." Irene explained.

Mitch nodded. "I only have a couple of requests, Ma'am." Irene gestured for Mitch to speak freely, and then she went back to folding her arms in front of her and leaning back into her tall black leather desk chair. "I won't go on any missions until you let me take out Mansur and the Bahji."

"Fine. I already have my people working on it." Irene agreed.

"Second, Y/n wants a vacation. I think she deserves it. I know that's not usually how you start a new job but, considering you all forced her into killing her brother last week..." Mitch's sarcastic and blunt side always came back out eventually.

Irene half-snorted and nodded. "I can probably get the two of you a few weeks off."

"A month." Mitch countered with a smirk. He was trying to figure out how much of an upper hand he had in these negotiations. He was trying to figure out how badly Irene and Tom Stansfield wanted him to be Orion, and do America's bidding.

Irene paused, hesitating a little too long, then submitted to his request. "A month, but if we get a hit on Mansur, you'll have to come back sooner."

Mitch grinned. "That would be my pleasure."

"Is that it?"

"I haven't even gotten to the important stuff yet." Mitch crossed his arms over his chest, smirked and shook his head.

"We don't need you that badly, Rapp." Irene tried to reassert her dominance.

"Are you sure about that, Ma'am?" Mitch pushed back, with a large hint of arrogance dripping from his words.

Irene paused again, then rolled her eyes. "Just tell me what else you want, Mitch."

Mitch leaned back in his chair, and folded his hands casually over his torso. "Y/n and I want to be based out of New York, and we don't want to live in D.C."

"That I can't give you." Irene finally put her foot down. "You can stay in New York when you aren't on missions, but you will need to be down here some of the time, or at least, Y/n will need to be." Mitch huffed. "And you really shouldn't be putting your names down on any documents together if you want to remain as a couple, so no signing for leases under your real names."

"Get me an alias, then, Director." Mitch suggested.

"We're already working on that as well. Is that all?"

"One last thing..." Mitch smirked and leaned forward. "I get that CIA agents aren't supposed to know about Orion, at least not really, and furthermore that we are not supposed to work together.."

Irene cut Mitch off. "Oh, hell no, Rapp. This one won't happen."

Mitch leaned back. "This is the only deal breaker, Ma'am. When Y/n is on a mission for the Agency, it’s fine if I get shipped off without her, but if we are both free when I get called up for something, she comes with me. Every time. Even Stansfield couldn't deny how good of a team we made. I believe he said something along the lines of 'the most valuable assets our country has in its possession right now.'" Mitch repeated Tom Stansfield, Director of the CIA's words after you and Mitch returned to the States from Rome, back to Irene who grimaced at his point. He knew how badly they wanted him to commit to Orion fully, and he was going to get what he wanted out of the arrangement.

Irene knew that Mitch was the one that they wanted, but that meant that they got all of Mitch; both his serious and deadly side and his facetious and uncooperative side. You would never get one without the other, but to Irene, Stansfield, and the nation's security, Mitch Rapp was worth the trouble. "You wanna go on her missions with her too?" Irene asked sarcastically.

Mitch bobbed his head to the side, then shrugged. "If I could sometimes, that'd be fine too. Why bother giving her a new partner when she already has one ready to go?"

"I was joking, Rapp." Irene leaned forward on her desk and shook her head at him.

"No, I think that should be a part of the agreement as well. Irene, you all know that we’re a good team, and the only reason that you all even know about our relationship is because we chose to stop hiding it from you. We will be discreet and we will be precise. She is my deal breaker. I won't do any of this without her as my partner in the field." Mitch gave his ultimatum.

Irene leaned back in her chair and shook her head. "Fine. Can you stick around a couple more days while we hammer out a contract?"

"No contract. Just give me your word, Irene." Mitch trusted Irene because you did, and he knew that leaving less of a paper trail towards him would also be in his best interests.

"Fine. You have my word. Y/n will be your partner whenever the two of you are free at the same time. Mansur will be your first mission. We're going to have to discuss the living arrangements a little further... But for now, go enjoy your vacation, Mitch. You earned it." Irene finally smiled up at the young man, who she had all of the faith in the world in.

Mitch stood and stuck his hand across her desk. Irene accepted his gesture and shook his hand, thus beginning a new chapter in Mitch's life. "Thank you, Ma'am."

Irene turned her chair towards her window and looked at the luxury car parked down below by the main entrance to the building. "You can tell Y/n that she doesn't need to come up. We'll sort out her details when you two get back."

"Will do, Ma'am." Mitch said with a smirk. He liked his boss; very little got past her.

"Where you guys going?" Irene asked, stopping Mitch as he had the door to her office half open.

"We were thinking about Buenos Aires." Mitch said with a smile, before nodding and ducking out the door.

You sat in the backseat of your tinted Rolls Royce Phantom, with the engine idling, outside of Langley. Mitch pulled the sweater off over his head and opened the door to the backseat. You were dressed in a slinky, navy blue jersey wrap dress and nude platform pumps. Mitch shut the door behind him and the car smoothly took off.

"Well if Irene knew what you looked like right now, she wouldn't have questioned why I wanted to have you as my partner in the field."

You smirked and leaned in to kiss the man you loved. "Did she say yes?"

"Of course. I told her that I wouldn't be Orion if she didn't meet my stipulations."

"Well, I can't believe she fell for that." You snickered.

Mitch smiled but furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Oh please, Mitch, it may not be the reason you started this line of work, but you don't fool me. I know you just want to do what's right and protect people. You're just a big softy down deep."

Mitch smirked. You had seen right through him from day one. "Well, Irene doesn't know that yet, and good thing, because she gave me everything I wanted." Mitch intertwined his fingers in yours and watched you bring his hand up to your lips. He felt the soft and smooth skin kiss the back of his hand, and then watched as you rested your chin on it. "My girl." He whispered.

You smiled, and whispered back. "Always." You dropped his hand into your lap and stroked the bit of arm hair coming out from under his sleeves.

"Ma'am, remind me of what airline again?" The driver asked from the front as he lowered the partition.

"Icelandair, and then once you drop us off, you are back up to New York to take a Steven Rapp and his clients out to Peter Lugers for dinner tonight, then Mr. Rapp will take the car off your hands at the end of the night."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did Irene ask where we were going?" You asked.

Mitch snickered. "Yea, I told her Argentina."

"Well that'll really throw them off the trail, babe." You teased.

"You excited for Iceland?" Mitch asked, leaning his head against the headrest behind him, and staring lovingly at you.

You nodded. "Are you?"

Mitch smiled wide. "I'm excited for it all."

Thirty-One <- -> Thirty-Three

Let me know what you thought of the sweet little murderous boo and if you’d like to be tagged.

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semi-anonyme · 4 years

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Let’s Talk About Alcohol

Gear up baby, this is a long and very personal post but I think it can help people and certainly it feels very cathartic to write.

Last night, I drank my last alcohol for a while, at least until my birthday in 2 months (more on that later). I’ve been declaring some intention to abstain from alcohol for a while now, but I think I’ve learned enough about myself during this past few months that this declaration now is clearer and more intentional. I’m going to write about it now because putting things into words is my therapeutic and ritualistic way of putting something behind me.

I think a big issue with substance abuse is being okay knowing that you have had legitimately good experiences that could not be replicated while sober. The part of me that strives to be mature and clearheaded wants to say:

every great experience I've had under the influence could have been replicated with a sober mind, I don’t need drugs

But the private voice in the back of my head says:

damn, those times were so fun. God do I really have to punish myself by going stone sober?

These two states, how I want to feel about my usage vs how I actually feel about my usage, create other feelings of shame and apprehension. I'm ashamed that I feel this way because I don't want the stigma of someone who is out of control but I also have no desire to stop because in my head the experience of the drug is irreplaceable.

An example I'm thinking of right now is going out to dance. When I'm a little faded on the dance floor, I usually have a big ass smile on my face and I vibe, man, I vibe. And there are times where I'm in the zone, I'll have people coming up to me -- including really beautiful women -- who just want to dance with me, know me.

As someone who spends so much time in solitude, it feels good and validating as a single man who also desires intimacy. There's something about knowing my energy was attractive that just feels good.

Same thing with sitting at a bar just drinking. I'd just be at a place having an IPA or a negroni after work, maybe some live jazz in the East Village. I'd enter with a lot on my mind and feel closed off. A drink or two in I'd start having a conversation with a woman sitting near me. Everything that flows out of me is just funny and real. The thoughts in my head I had deemed too shameful to reveal in my sober mind are expressed without inhibition. I am a poet. There's nothing to hide, this is real, and my inner life flows out of me as naturally as rivers flow downstream. I feel validated. Yes, I am a misunderstood martyr. Yes, I am a tragic anti-hero. Yes, these feelings I've been hiding are universal, why should I feel so ashamed? This is great. I love this.

I wake up the next day, maybe with a headache and a phone number or an instagram follow, but I know that I have no intention of actually knowing these people. Because who I was last night and who I am now are two different people. The shame is still there, it just got a little room to breathe.

Isn't that what we're always looking for? Just some room to breathe?

There's an overall theme in these two examples. On times I've been out drinking, there's this feeling of openness, human connection, and courage. In many ways, it's like wearing a mask and adopting a new identity. This character is full of joie de vivre, this character is an open book, this character is at peace with himself, this character is easily excitable, this character has an attractive energy and feels himself to be attractive. This character accepts his flaws, and knows that his humanity is precisely what makes him easy to connect with.

I remember one time I was talking to my therapist about drinking. I told her of all the times I had out, dancing, all the connections I made, all the memories I had. She looked at me and very non-judgmentally said, "it seems that alcohol has really given you a lot in your life". I agreed. She said, "you know, the alcohol is not really the problem - the alcohol is a proxy for something else, which is the relationship you have to yourself".

That kind of blew my mind. It made sense even initially, but over the past year it has become more concrete, and is the lens through which I view compulsive behavior. I’ll explain what she means more if you don’t quite get it.

If you notice how I laid out this "character" that I adopt, the space between who I am and this character is bridged -- or related -- by alcohol. In my daily life, I want to be more open, want to be quick to laugh, want to be quick witted and outside of my head more. I want to have that beautiful attractive energy I that I envy in some people. The alcohol gives me a lot of that -- but at a price.

I've talked with friends about their compulsive behaviors, read anonymous confessions on reddit, read about celebrities opening up about their addictions, and when you get into the why of when these people find themselves acting out their compulsive behavior, it really boils down to this:

I feel something that I do not want to feel --> I do a thing to escape this feeling --> that feeling goes away (but only temporarily)

A great example is when I listened to Kid Cudi on the Joe Rogan Experience talk about his addiction to cocaine. Note that this interview was in 2014 and he wasn't actually clean yet, so he was talking about a problem he was still privately battling. If you go to the 1:30 mark, he talks about his "trifecta" -- do cocaine before breakfast, drink a beer, smoke some weed. This allowed him to go out into the streets and interact with fans who would inevitably stop him and want to talk. Without it, he felt he couldn't.

What it did for me, it completely numbed me, I didn’t care about anything, I was a robot. But being so numb, it allowed me to meet my fans and be out in the streets, so in a twisted way, it did a positive thing for me and that’s why I didn’t see it as an issue

Like damn, today I went out in Soho and I was just high fiving fans and shit. It was the most amazing experience, something that I never get a chance to feel because I’m just like such a recluse and I was just weirded out when people recognized me and I just didn’t want to go anywhere

Kid Cudi needed his "trifecta" to get through that, but ultimately, a personality built off of drug use is obviously unsustainable. Again:

I feel something that I do not want to feel --> I do a thing to escape this feeling --> that feeling goes away (but only temporarily)

But that's the thing though. You don't know you have a problem until you're knee deep in it because the initial benefits of the drug use are so obviously good and pivotal to functioning.

Last year, I read this book The Lost Weekend -- it's about an alcoholic who goes on a five day bender that almost kills him. While I am not an alcoholic, it was amazing and terrifying to see how much of the character I identified with in his first two days of drinking. I wrote earlier how I now have a lens through which to view addiction ("alcohol is the proxy for your relationship to yourself") and this lens allowed me to see the main character, Don Birnam, for who he was and who he wanted to be and how he used alcohol to try and bridge the gap.

He was a failed writer who used alcohol to escape into fantasies of how his life should have turned out. There's this scene in day 2 of his bender where he's listening to a recording of a pianist and he talks about how his greatest fantasy is to have a piano recital at Carnegie Hall, a sold out show, and play beautiful piano pieces by his favorite composers. Everyone would adore him and his work.

While under the influence, he has these moments of clarity where he knows what he wants and feels committed to doing it. But as the booze wears off so does the satisfaction he has achieved in his fantasies, and he chases these fleeting feelings with more booze. After waking up, shaking, the only thing he can do to smother his feelings of shame and try to re-capture that sliver of optimism he felt is to drink even more. Therein lies the cycle of abuse.

This book was written in 1944 but it floors me how universally it portrays the mindset of drinking, and the slippery slope that the road takes. When it was published, a famous screenwriter named Herman Mankiewicz (an alcoholic who wrote Citizen Kane among many other great screenplays), having seen himself in the character of Don Birnam, attempted suicide. I was curious what more contemporary takeaways were. I can't find the source, but the one that stuck with me is when someone wrote, "The Lost Weekend made me realize that I thought that I was better than other people in my drinking, but in the end it's drinking, it's all the same".

Is it too embarrassing for me to admit that I totally get that?

I mentioned that substances are a poor substitute for the feelings we are attempting to bolster, and this is something I learned the hard way. I've had more than a few dozen conversations in my life with strangers that I felt were incredibly deep and meaningful, where I thought maybe, "oh this is someone I want to know in my everyday life". But of all those conversations, I think I may have had 3 people who are still in my life in any way today. And that's because the people you meet while out at bars are all wearing their own masks and good relationships aren't built on the basis of one strong connection alone.

Relationships, like all things worth building, take time.

I’m not an alcoholic, but maybe we should also get rid of that term?

There’s an article I read about a problem drinker who stopped calling herself an alcoholic and it struck a chord with me. I do not fit the profile of an alcoholic (and I guess the DSM 5 has revised the issue of problem drinking as Alcohol Use Disorder), but it has been obvious to me that something was not right with my alcohol use and I didn't feel completely in control of my actions. In fact, it was after waking up with a bad hangover on a Saturday last March that I decided to see a therapist.

I can't find it now, but there was an article I read when I was searching "how much is too much alcohol consumption". In this article, a psychologist said something along the lines of:

We used to give specific guidelines like 5 drinks is too much for a man, 3 drinks is too much for a woman. But there are people who drink more than these guidelines and live perfectly normal lives, and people who drink less and it's problematic. The amount you're drinking isn't as important as why you're drinking

I mentioned at the beginning of this entry that last night would be my last bits of alcohol for a while. If you had to guess, for me to make that type of declaration, how much do you think I drank?

The answer? (3) 16 oz beers over the course of about 5 hours. I like the taste of really boozy beers so these definitely weren't Tecates (the beers were 7.0%, 8.5% and 8% respectively) but still if you were to take that number and ask any random drinker whether that was too much they'd say, "what? c'mon, live a little".

This is the importance of self-knowledge though. Listen to yourself. Our intuition is pretty good at knowing when something is wrong.

So, what next?

I highly doubt I will be alcohol free for the rest of my life.

My self-awareness has always been a mixed bag of tricks but in identifying the root causes of my problem drinking (who I want to be vs who I actually am) plus my belief in my ability to change will allow me to get through this just fine.

I imagine being basically like Anthony Bourdain (RIP, sweet prince), who had a heroin addiction when he was younger but was able to travel and go drinking in his later years because he was no longer the person who did that.

I wrote a lot just now about this character that I don when I’m drinking who is open, friendly, confident, quick to laugh, sure of himself, easily excitable. These aren't just things I aspire to be but things I believe myself to be at my core, hidden underneath a layer of self-consciousness and useless thoughts that have no bearing in reality. When alcohol allows me to cut through that layer, it's not like I'm withdrawing from a bank account that's not mine; I'm reaching into a store of reserves that are in my name, just kind of hard to get to. I'm putting in the work now to streamline access to this core self, if this metaphor holds up

Earlier in the year, I mentioned my drinking guidelines as:

Vacations. Celebrations. Dates.

Vacations are a given, I never have a problem drinking while I'm on vacation. Celebrations mean big ones, basically, my birthday or my closest friends' birthdays or if my company gets acquired, or something. My plan is to do a deep dive for an extended period while working on my goals and designing the life I want to live. Like most people, drinking alcohol started as this social thing I did, which I wasn't doing unless I was with friends, and ended up becoming this thing that I used to avoid dealing with uncomfortable feelings I had about myself, feelings that only intensified the later I got into my 20s.

One reason why problematic drinking was able to go on for an extended amount of time -- hangovers and bad quality sleep and all -- was that I really didn't have anything else to look forward to. I could do my work fine so that was taken care of, but nothing actually excited me in my life. My goals in life became these checkboxes on a list of things that I thought might make me feel good but I was becoming less certain about that.

But after really examining my values in life, what I want to do, who I want to become, who I have to become in order to achieve these goals, I do have things that I'm excited to wake up and do now. And ultimately that's the only way to replace negative behaviors -- whether it's drinking, drugs, reckless sex, or procrastination. You have to identify why you do what you do and find suitable substitutes that give you the same benefits. Falling asleep at 3:30am after drinking 5 IPAs and watching 3.5 hours of K-Dramas doesn't have the same appeal to it like it did a couple of months ago.

Another reason why this has gone on pretty long is that when I think of myself in the future, I have an image in my head that constantly crosses my mind:

I'm living in New York or Paris or Tbilisi, a big city, you know. I have a beautiful apartment. It's Sunday at 2:00pm and I'm finishing up my first session of work and could use a break. I hit up a group of close friends and we decide to go to the neighborhood bar, have a beer, talk about what's happening in our lives, or do a post-game analysis of last night's shenanigans. We laugh, do that quality friend time, build memories and strengthen our connection.

But after babysitting a beer or two it is now the evening, and I want to make sure I have enough energy and focus -- either for a second session of work or just so I can relax at home just reading a book or watching a movie or spending quality time with my girlfriend/wife.

That sounds cute, right? Doesn't that sound beautiful?

Every time I’ve thought of abstaining from drinking, that image plays in my head and I think, “do I really need to stop? Can’t I just moderate? Like in that image?” Now I know from experience that asking yourself that question is a huge red flag.

Last week, I laid out some of my one year goals:

(1) to create a social media website (2) drop weight and attain a lean, muscular, model-esque physique (3) learn how to rap, develop a flow, and release some rap songs on SoundCloud

One thing I know about pursuing these things is that the process will become satisfying in and of itself. And when that satisfaction really sets in and the dopamine machine of my life is on autopilot, when I'm just really excited to wake up and work on programming this new feature before work, when I'm really excited to get my pull-ups in because my lats are starting to look really good and my body is just getting more tight and angular, when I'm excited to work on my rhymes because I have a few clever wordplays I want to drop, that's when I know, okay, I can have a couple of drinks with friends. Because by that point, the relationship with myself will have been repaired, and I'll have something to look forward to, and I won't look at myself as being this person who needs to avoid things or prop up my self-esteem, you know.

I have more to say (when do I not? I swear I can’t shut the fuck up) but I'll leave it at that for now.

I can’t believe you read this all.

I love you. I love you all.

#self #text post #alcohol #alcoholism #alcohol abuse #drinking #anxiety #depression #compulsive behavior

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revenge-goth · 5 years

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addiction: a life update

so im gonna post an update on my life. not that yall want it or will even read it but i really need this rn soo. also theres a lot im not gonna iclude bc i wanna talk about addiction. theres a lot to be said about gow i used sex as a coping mechanism, my relapses with self harm, and my journey w medications and mental illness. ill save that for another time. also huge trigger warning for addiction, rape, and suicide.

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i started drinking back around 2013 when i was 15. from there, i became a high functioning alcoholic for the next three years. i would always start my day drinking, always took tumblers w alcohol to school. no one really noticed until around my senior year when it really started to become more of a problem due to having been in a really sexually abusive relationship. i did it to cope with everything. i was scared about the future since i never thought i was going to make it past 17 and my 18th birthday was slowly approaching. i was scared about college and growing up and what i wanted to do with my life. i remember being really drunk when receiving my awards and scholarships at a school district function. i remember i found it funny that a fuck up like me was representing my high school and seen as a really successful student while i was masking my drunken state.

by the time i went to college i was blowing through cash for alcohol, i stole from bars, i stole from frat guys. i lied a lot. i did a lot of stupid shit.

during this though, my following on twitter was growing steadily. my drunken thoughts and actions became peoples entertainment and was sensationalized by those around me. people would recognize me as sandia goth in public, people wanted to party w me, people wanted to hang w me, people loved that version of me.

in 2017 i started abusing pills after being raped at a party. i was really drunk when it happened and i dont really remember it. that night is one of those regrets i have to carry with me for the rest of my life. at first i would abuse sleeping meds. later on i started to abuse the fuck outta my antipsychotics. eventually i was prescribed ativan, a benzodiazepine, and that was the beginning of my downward spiral. i was constantly downing pills with a bottle of vodka every night. i was always really careless. i had it in my head that maybe taking all those pills and drinking would eventually end up killing me and that one night i just wouldnt make it home. i dont remember a lot from that period in my life. i remember vague things like stading out on my dorms balcony while all the color around me was extremely saturated and everything was shiny. i remember waking up after a really bad bender in my own vomit. i remember how disappointed my sister was. i remember staring at the bathroom floor.

i hit rock bottom that december, i had tried to commit suicide multiple times in my life but this time i felt like it was a lot more real and a lot more final. it didnt happen though. i dont remember christmas and in my drunken state i lost the christmas present my sister was so excited about giving me. looking back at pictures you could tell that i wasnt there at all and that my family was taking notice.

in january 2018 i checked myself into an inpatient hospital to get sober. i was terrified. i showed up to the hospital intoxicated. they ask you a lot of questions when you come in and i remember talking about everything and just laughing about it. the assessor was really creeped out. they made me sleep it off in a waiting room before they let me into the unit.

it helped a lot and i met a lot of people i wont ever forget. it was kind of weird being the youngest there and group was rough. i remember staying in my room and not being able to go eat because my heartrate was at 52 and i felt actually dead. the withdrawal process was really difficult and staying off was even harder. the first thing i did when i was discharged was drink a whole lot, get high, and had my friends drive me across half of the valley going 90 on the freeway while blasting lcd soundsystem with the windows down at 3 am.

after that i decided that it was time to really stop. my parents had cleared out the liquor cabinet and moved me to a room downstairs with no lock where they could keep an eye on me. they found my stash and threw it out. i also started smoking a lot of fuckin cigarettes. i was sober for about 5 months.

i started drinking again but just socially. a healthy amount. i was good except for a few hiccups here and there until march 2019 when i was raped, again, at another party. i was sober this time which really fucked me up. i remember everything and still have nightmares about it. i started abusing medications again and smoking a lot of weed. i was high for about three weeks before i became suicidal and called the cops on myself so i could be hospitalized. i would end up being hospitalized for two weeks. when i got out i started snorting ambien (which is fuckin wack and i dont recommend). that landed me back in the hospital two weeks later. i would be hospitalized two more times before being stable enough to not have someone taking care of me 24/7.

and we come to now. last week i relapsed. i got really sick though bc the wine i drank was spolied. it really scared me though because i thought my braincells were dying because of all the pills i had snorted (i literally thought this) but it was just the wine. it kind of scared me back to my senses though that that path is not the fuckin way to go.

ive recently gotten back to the things i love: music and art. i reopened my tumblr acct, found my sketchbooks from high school and dug up my old music. doing all of this, including doing a lot of research on my old icon gerard way, watching life on the murder scene and crying because ive been there, and seeing frank iero live, has (as ridiculous as it may sound to most that someone you look up to can be a saving force) made me consider getting clean for 2020. for real this time.

sometimes i miss her. the sadia goth everyine loved and looked up to. i lost a lot of friends when i got sober and even more followers. thats not important in the grand scheme of things, it was an empty sense of validation for me. whats truly important is that im not her anymore. im me. addiction prone, mentally ill, over medicated, lonely, sad, artistic, gives no shits, emo trash, goth icon, uses way too many gerard way references, astrology loving, empathetic to a fault, me.

i know that this is something im going to struggle with for the rest of my life, but i really want to go forward knowing that im trying my hardest and giving it my best shot. this is possibly my hardest feat, my biggest challenge in life, but im trynna make it and ill sure as fuck never let it take me alive.

xoxo,

-sandia goth

(alondra)

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eternallybroken7604-blog · 6 years

Text

We have been up for 2 days. I accepted years ago that this has to be part of my life. He's a package deal. But I am so tired. I do it with him. Idk y. I don't enjoy it most times. But I'm also afraid and to sleep while he's up. I learned not to the hard way.... A part of me wants my life back. My before life. But I know it will be the fight of my life. And I'm not ready. I sometimes tell myself that this was God's plan. I believe that each of us have at least one person that they are mentally to impact in some way and set in motion a positive path. Or bring a lost soul to God. God made me strong and brought me this man. He had to put me thru it to equip me to be wha this man needs. Maybe I'm the only one capable of sticking this journey out with him and bringing him out other side with me. That's why my addiction is so odd. My husband gets locked up from time to time, and when he's gone, I don't do any dope, I smoke my weed. But with the dope, he does my shots, from start to finish. He twirls the bowl. I don't want to know how. I tried once, he got arrested at the end of an 8 month horrendous, traumatizing bender. Suddenly my person is gone and I've been up for weeks. I tried to do it myself. I had the audacity to tell him about it at visitation, because he has always hated doing my shots. He feels enough guilt over where my life is and where it was. He's scared that bnb if I die, he will go to prison. So I always take sure my prints are on it too. He's not ready to even see that he needs to change. I can see that it weighs on him sometimes. And he will want to do better. But then he has no way to stop the guilt, the pain, self hatred. The high and associated relief are his constant and a very erratic life. I'm aware of all this and more. I'm aware I could be completely wrong and he really is just a piece of shit junkiethat destroy a family by joining it. I can't even fault him for that. My kids adored him. And he them. He had a family finally. He was know where near ready to be a step dad. But he gave it an honest try. Then again maybe I just rrwa lly ne ed there to be a greater purpose beh9nd all this, losing my babies, my self respect, my family. Everything.

I can't hate him for being selfish and out for number one, it's all his life has really ever been. I can see what drives everything about h, I study him cause I have never met someone that level of addicted. I cant explain why his thought processes fascinate me, I have to study them til I understand them. Which is hard to do because it's so complex and I'm juggling moneyissues, homelessness, the hustle, him in general, and the dope. The more I learn him, the more pity I feel and I cant leave. I love him to a fault, but I am not ready to abandon him to his demons. He won't survive it with any sort of sanity. He would argue with me on that but it's the one thing I believe with no doubt, he does need me. I think he knows it deep down. He knows I'm 100% on his side. Even if he dont like how at times. He knows I'm real. Even if he tells u I'm not. It's like his pride and years of telling me in so inferior refuse to allow him to recognize anyachievements, no matter the size. I know this but I forget every time we fight, cause it's his defense mechanism with me, it's about the only thing that works. He will reach I to the depths of cruelty and verbally destroy me. He knows what hurts me too. He has left scars that will never go away. I will never forget his eyes and voices and the feeling of my own pain at things he has said. My first husband beat me, that's not how u hurt me. The act of being able to hurt me, that really hurts. My now husband has gotten physical a few times. I cant hate him for it long because I see how much he hates himself for it. But that pride tho, he wont apologize verbally, but he will show me best he can that he's sorry. He knows I deserve better. He went thru a phase where all the blame was put on me for not leaving when it first started, woth the dope and us losing the kids. I tell myself I pushed him too far. It's no excuse I know. But I know how much weighs on him daily, and when substances are u introduced, well I am the embodiment of a large portion of his pain and stress and guilt. I forgive him because I know he's not mentally able to deal with all that and day to day life without help. To stubborn to ever agree with me but I just k ow I'm right. Cant explain that but it's never led me wrong. I shoulder as much as he will let me. And getting high and drunk and my mouth can sometimes push him too far, exacerbates things.

I knew he was a 'recovering' addict when we met. But he only smoked weed when I met him. I thought all that was his past. I didn't mind weed. I didn't personally smoke when we met. I was a divorced mom to 3. We were all finally happy and stable after my horror of an ex-husband. Idk y I fell in love with this man. But I did. He was my first serious relationship in the 2 years since. I never even missed sex, I wasn't lonely. I didn't miss that kind of love until...I was reminded.

8 mos later, we have a place together with my kids. Then a neighbor moved and offered my husband dope. He hid it for a little bit. But I picked up on his different behaviors and made him tell me. Then I wanted to smoke some too. I'd heard of Meth. But I grew up very sheltered by a pill head. I didnt know that when this gorgeous man told me he used to be an addict that he meant thousands of dollars and many hears of hardcore IV drug use. Herion, bar salts. His drug of choice was simply, more. He named his addiction Maria. He needed that relief so badly that once he discovered its power to 'fix' things, he personified his addiction. Maria has been his stability. Shes lways there when everyone else let's him dow. I can understand the desire not to feel. So badly u wanna die. But I was raised different. U can be weak, but dont stay weak. .

But by the time I realized that he didn't recover from his addictions, he fled his former home state and had no access to those things here. He was big on the run big ti.e qhen we met. Hes a hardened city boy. I'm a small town countrygirl. He let me smoke with him. A week later, hes got a needle. I have never seen a pill snorted. I wanted him to let watch him and he did. Seeing the man I love so in thrall to drugs, it broke my heart for him. Women pray to God to see a man look at them with that look. His addiction borders worship. As I write this we are also high with a few friends, he just finished fixing his shot and has decided to ask them to film him. I cant keep going. Thats bothers.me and ill to tore up now to try to figure out my feelings. So I'll wrap this up. My emotions are going every where and I really hate him like this. I hope he watches his video and hates himself. I love him and wint leave him to feel all that guiltalone, that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to feel most of it. God knows I feel my fair share. I promise myself one thing, I will not live like this forever. I'll keep looking for my way out. I'll keep praying for strength to leave. Or for God to open his eyes. I know better than to preach too much at him. He usually shuts down as soon. as he realizes what I'm saying. But I still try. He doesn't know it yet, cause he has never felt it before, but I love him enough for this. I will win this fight. Even if he hates.me in the end. (Forgove any typos, I'm intoxicated and when I get adamant about a topic, I type too fast)

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