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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

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Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 11

Title: Old Wounds

Warnings: none. But there’s always profanity, just an FYI

Tagging: @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @tragiclyhip

“Well I’ve got good news and bad news,” Tyler announces, as he descends the stairs later in the evening, pausing at the front entrance to switch off the foyer light and lock the door and set the alarm before joining his wife in the living room. “Which do you want first?”

Esme glances up from the mountains of clean laundry that takes up residence at her feet and on the already cluttered coffee table. Laundry baskets of differing colours are scattered around the room. A larger one that consists of their clothing and smaller containers labelled with each of the kids’ names; the latter eventually being placed in intervals on the stairs in hopes they’ll be carried up to the corresponding rooms. For the most part, the kids are good at getting their assigned chores done. The littles enjoying a ‘sticker chart’ that signifies a treat or toy of their choosing when full, and the older ones satisfied with decent sized allowances. Despite an extremely healthy bank account and money constantly flowing in, they’re still expected to ‘tow the line’; being taught responsibility and learning skills that will help them become self reliant and well functioning adults.

She wrinkles her nose and scowls. “Depends. On a scale of one to ten, how bad IS the bad news?”

“Considering it’s our kids we’re talking about?” He drops heavily onto the couch, wincing at the stiffness in his right knee when he stretches his leg out and places his foot on the edge of the coffee table. The cold weather is aggravating it; causing the arthritis to flare up and bringing with it an incessant ache that seems to have burrowed into the bone. Two reconstructive surgeries and a host of complications later, it’s as good as that leg is going to get. Already told to be prepared for a third surgery before he hits sixty. If he makes it that far. “I don’t know. I guess a four? Five at the most?”

“So that means no broken bones, knocked out teeth, and no one is unconscious or bleeding. In other words, it’s a relatively tame night for our house. Still…” she tosses a pair of mismatched socks into Tanner’s basket. He’s particular; socks always scrunched into a ball, never matching, and his other clothes separated by colour yet not folded, preferring to do it himself once he takes the basket upstairs. “...tell me the good news first. It’s been a weird day.”

“The good news is that all the little ones are already asleep. Tanner’s on his way out but he’s sleeping in the tub in the boys’ bathroom again because TJ and Declan are being too loud. Not even the headphones and locking himself in his happy place were doing the trick. I tried.”

“Well, at least he finds ways to cope and make himself happy, I guess. The bad news?”

“Millie and Alannah are showing no signs of slowing down. So if you’re wanting to actually get some shut eye, you might want to camp out down here. It’s going to be a long ass night.”

“Maybe I’ll borrow Tanner’s headphones,” she says, then grins at him over her shoulder. “That should help fend off your snoring too.”

“It can’t be THAT bad. You’ve been sharing a bed with me for twelve and a half years. I notice you don’t ever head for the couch. You put up with it.”

“Do you know many times in the past twelve and a half years I’ve been tempted to smother you with a pillow? Many. Many. MANY times.”

“Yet I’m still here.”

“Mostly because I wouldn’t do well in jail. I’d never survive in there. And prison jumpsuit orange is NOT my colour.”

“And here I was thinking maybe I’ve survived because you just love me THAT much.”

“It plays a small part in it. But just a small one. Just so you know.”

“You’d miss me. If I wasn’t around.”

“Like a migraine,” she teases, and yelps when he lands a playful yet solid backhand on one of the cheeks of her ass. “That’s not nice. That’s not friends.”

“Is that what we are? Friends? That’s as far as we’ve come in twelve and a half years?”

“Friends with the best benefits,” she chides, and snags an unfolded towel from the pile of laundry on the floor and smacks him upside the head with it. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. You wouldn’t suddenly want to find yourself facing an extremely long dry spell.”

“I’d be alright. I have three wank files on my phone now.”

“Three? What do you need three for? And how do you even have that many pictures of me in the first place? Are you sneaking them while I’m asleep? Because that’s just...creepy...if you are.”

“Bold of you to assume that it’s just pictures of you.”

She drops her chin to her chest and stares at him pointedly.

“I’m kidding. I only need pictures of you. No one else. Well, there’s a couple of videos too, but…”

“I swear to God, if anyone ever goes into your phone and finds those? I will kill you. In the most brutal and painful way possible. Why do you need videos anyway?”

“Homemade porn. Best you can get.”

“You can’t watch regular porn like regular people?”

“I mean, I COULD. But I don’t want to. I want to watch you. Unleashing your inner porn star. Getting all freaky and kinky and shit. You should watch them with me. Be kind of hot, don’t think? Watch them and make a new one?”

“You’ve got issues. Serious issues.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that my wife is a total MILF. That she looks all tiny and cute and innocent but is a freak in bed. You shouldn’t have been so eager and willing if you didn’t want me scooping you up at that quick.”

She smirks. “I thought you said I was a B plus?”

“You were. Until I got a hold of you. Now? Solid A plus, plus, PLUS.”

“So you’re finally admitting that you DID corrupt me. After twelve and a half years denying it.”

“I merely helped you build on your skills. Improve them. I was more than willing to let you experiment on me.”

“Mmmhmm. You know, I was a good girl until you got a hold of me.”

“Like fuck you were. Good girls do NOT bang a guy...for five days straight...that they barely know. Unprotected.”

“I admit, that was not one of my finer judgement calls. But I trusted you. You didn’t seem like the type that didn’t take precautions. I mean, looking like you do and having women in different ports all over the world? That was a given. But you didn’t strike me as the type that wanted kids all over the world. Or STD’s. I trusted you. For some reason.”

“You just wanted the dick. Admit it. You were willing to sacrifice all your morals and standards for it.”

“I will admit to no such things. You were just as into it as I was. You didn’t exactly turn sex down. You didn’t seem too concerned about the whole protection thing. How did you know I wasn’t some hoe crawling with Lord knows what? How’d you know you weren’t going to get the burn?”

“I trusted you. Against my better judgement.”

Smirking, she cocks her head to the side and regards him with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

“You were all cute and tiny and innocent looking. Boy did I learn. Quick.”

“Something tells me you wouldn’t have kept me around if I was TOO cute and innocent. I knew just enough to make you want it, yet still gave you a pretty clean slate to work with. You must be so proud of yourself. Corrupting me like you have. Moulding me into some freak in bed.”

“Babe, you had a freak inside of you, just took good dick to bring it out. You are some of my best work though. You didn’t turn out too bad.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“Aren’t you glad you went along with Nik’s fucked up idea? Was it not the best decision of your life?”

“I don’t know about the best,” she teases, and drops a load of clean wash in his lap. “But you’re on my top five list.”

“Well for what it’s worth, it’s definitely the best decision I ever made. And you have to admit, the whole lack of protection thing? It didn’t turn out too bad.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s turning into quite the hell beast. You know those hellhounds on Supernatural? Millie could be their ruler. In fact, they’d be scared of HER. Although I have figured it out. Why she’s been extra bitchy lately.”

“Please tell me it’s not boys. Bad enough we had one phone here. I don’t want to find out there’s more.”

“It’s not boys. Although…” she drops down onto the couch beside him. “...that will come soon enough. Puberty. It’s puberty.”

“Excuse me?”

“It hasn’t happened yet. The big event. She hasn’t gotten her period.”

“We are NOT having this conversation.”

“As uncomfortable as it makes you, we have to have it. Because it’s going to happen. Soon.”

“She’s eleven.”

“She’ll be twelve in March. I was just shy of twelve when I got mine.”

He turns his attention to the pile of laundry in his lap. “I do NOT want to hear this.”

“I’m just trying to prepare you. The mood swings? The skin breakouts? The fact she’s starting to develop and has already asked me to take her shopping for bras…”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I’m not listening to you. I refuse to listen to you.”

“...means that things are going to happen. Soon. And we need to be prepared. Especially you.”

“Why me? Why do I need to be more prepared than you?”

“Because I’ve had my period for almost thirty years. I’m obviously experienced in these things.”

“And I’ve lived with you for twelve of those thirty years. Who is the one that bears the brunt of the shit storm when you get all mean and moody and shit? Who’s the one that’s been bringing your bitchy ass chocolate and ice cream? Who’s the one that will massage your back and bring you a heating pad when the cramps are bad? Never mind that, who’s had to go to the store and buy you woman stuff?”

“You’ve been very good about it. But in all fairness, if you really think about it? I haven’t had my period that much since we’ve been together. You may have done all those very sweet and amazing things, but you’ve also gotten me pregnant with seven kids. In twelve years.”

“That is a very good point, actually.”

“All I’m saying is that things are going to happen. Soon. And I just want you to be prepared for it. I know it bothers you to think about it. Your baby girl growing up. But she is. Growing up. And she’s doing it very quickly. You need to step up your game and be ready for anything.”

“I really hate you right now.”

“Do you, Tyler? Do you REALLY?”

Leaning into her, he presses a kiss to her temple. “No. Not in the slightest.”

“I just want you to be prepared. In case it happens when I’m not home. So you know what to do.”

“You’re not leaving the house from here on out. Until she DOES get it.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure everything is in the house that you’ll need in case it does happen. I remember when Riley was going through puberty. My mom was totally useless. It was a disaster when I started mine. She would have been more than willing to just let me bleed all over the place. I had to stuff toilet paper in my underwear and steal money out of her purse so I could go to the store and get necessities.”

He grins. “My wife the felon.”

“So I made sure Riley would never have to go through that kind of humiliation. I made up this basket for her. Pads, tampons, a heating pad, chocolate bars, some pain killers. Everything she’d need. I’ll do that for Millie too. And I’ll put it somewhere where you can find it. So you’re ready if it happens and I’m not home.”

“Do we really have to keep talking about this?”

“Stick your head in the sand all you want, husband. It’s going to happen. Whether you like it or not. I know she’s your little girl. Your miracle baby. But she’s growing up. And it’s happening very fast and there’s nothing we can do to stop it, I’m not exactly happy about it either. This is all happening way too quick for my liking. Where the hell has the last twelve years gone? We’re going to have a teenager. Very soon.”

“Not to make things worse, but we’re going to have three in the house in just over two years.”

“You’re not helping. Seriously though. Where has that time gone? Some days it feels like we just met, don’t you think?”

“Now that I think about it, there are days you drive me as fucking nuts as you did that that first day in Dhaka.”

“Fuck you! I was cute and charming.”

“You were a pain in my ass.”

“But I was a CUTE pain in your ass. You can’t deny that.”

“You were something alright.”

“Look, just because you were having the feels for me and didn’t know how to handle it, that’s not my fault. And for the record, I would have been able to handle myself. In the market. If things went south.”

“Sure you would have. You would have been just fine. All five foot nothing and a hundred pounds of you.”

“Good things come in small packages. You didn’t need to watch me that closely.”

“Yes. I did. I very much did. You know what would have happened if Asif’s thugs got a hold of you? The end result would not have been pretty.”

“I think you use that as an excuse. I think you just wanted me that close because you WERE having feels for me.”

“I am neither going to admit OR deny that.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve caught on to you. You can keep lying to yourself about your motives back then, but I know what you were up to. And it’s very sweet. That you wanted to keep me safe and sound because you had feels for me.”

“Do you want me to be totally honest?”

“Always.”

“I really just wanted to keep you close so I could look at your ass. And because I was hoping to get laid. I needed you to be safe and in one piece for that to happen.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“I’m just saying. You want honesty? There’s your honesty. You were cute and had a wicked body and I was horny as fuck and wanted you to fix that. And boy, did you ever fix it.”

“And I'm still fixing it. Twelve and a half years later. You lucky bastard.”

“I am lucky.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “Very lucky.”

“It’s weird.” She turns her attention back to folding the laundry at her feet. “Sometimes it DOES seem like it was just yesterday. Where DID the time go? How did we end up old enough to have a pre-teen? I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel old enough for that.”

“The way my body is? I feel old enough to have a kid in college, never mind becoming a teenager. Which leads me to the other bad news.”

“Oh God…” Esme groans. “...there’s more?”

“These?” He reaches into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a pair of reading glasses. “Don’t do shit anymore. I can see up close, but I can’t see fuck all far away. You know what that means?”

“Your eyesight is shit. Which I’ve been telling you for the last three years. Is it just your right eye?”

“That one’s worse.” It’s a mixture of things. The knife that Nathan had dug into his face -the sharp blade cutting deep and causing problems with the surrounding nerves- and the multitude of concussions suffered over the years. The last one five years ago had been the tipping point; causing permanent and extensive damage to the optic nerve. “ But they’re both shit.”

“When we get home you’ll have to call and schedule an eye appointment. And while you’re at it, you should call and get that hearing test done.”

“I don’t need one done. I know my hearing is fucked.”

“Fucked or not, you need one. So you know what you’re dealing with. You might need a hearing aid.”

“That’s a huge ‘fuck no’ from me.”

“I know it makes you feel old; glasses and hearing aids and arthritis and all the aches and pains. But you ARE getting close to fifty. And you’ve had a hard life. There’s been a lot of damage done. Isn’t it better to get on top of those things? So they don’t get worse? I just want you to have a good life. I want you to be around for a long while. And if that means you have to wear glasses on a permanent basis and get a hearing aid…”

“I’m sorry. Are you talking? I couldn’t hear you. It’s my old age.”

“It’s not old age. You’re just an asshole. Always have been, always will be. But you’re my asshole and I want to keep you around. And I know YOU want to stick around. Especially for your kids. So do it for them? Get your eyes and your hearing tested. Please? Because we love you, you insufferable, stubborn pain in my ass. And us loving you? That’s not going to change because you need help hearing and seeing.”

“I’ll be ugly as fuck. If I have to wear glasses all the time.”

“It’s impossible for you to be ugly. In fact…” she plucks the glasses from his hand and slips them onto his face. “...I think you’re quite sexy in them.”

“You know, you’re not half bad looking when I can actually see.”

She laughs and shoves him back against the couch. “You’re a total dick.”

“Fuck you, you love me.”

“I do. Despite my better judgement and the warnings from friends and family.”

Smirking, he lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into him; speaking with the tips of their noses pressed together and lips mere inches apart. “Why are you so mean to me? You’re always so mean.”

“I know. You have it so rough. I am the worst wife EVER. I’m horrible. Just horrible. How you put up with me defies all logic.”

“It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. It’s my cross to bear.”

“You poor bastard,” she laughs, a palm coming to rest on the side of his face when he kisses her. Long and slow and sweet, followed by a series of small pecks and then concluded with the press of his lips against her forehead; her eyes fluttering closed and a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It’s always been one of her favorite things; those feathery kisses placed on her brow and the weight of his hand on the back of her neck and the warmth of his body so close to hers. It’s sweet and it’s pure; intimacy at its most basic and innocent of levels. And her smile widens when a calloused fingertip softly traces the slope of her nose and his lips press against the tip. “You and your freckles.”

“Well technically, they’re YOUR freckles.”

“You’re staring at them aren’t you.”

“Not staring. Admiring.”

“Admiring what? They’re ugly.”

“They’re adorable. And you’re beautiful.” He presses a kiss to each corner of her mouth, hand smoothing wayward strands of hair away from the sides of her face and neck.

Her eyes flutter open. “Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like THAT. How you’re looking at me right now. Just so...I don’t know...I don’t know how to describe it. But you always do it. Your face changes. So does the colour of your eyes. It’s like you’re looking at me for the very first time all over again. Even though you’ve seen me nearly every day for the last twelve and a half years. Yet you still do it. Look at me like that. Like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe to me you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe all I see is you. Maybe because everything that is amazing and perfect in my life is because of you. All this? A place like this? My kids? Us? None of that would exist if it wasn’t for you. If you hadn’t stuck around on that bridge…”

“But I did. I DID stick around. And if it happened a thousand times, I would make the exact same decision. No hesitations. I did the right thing. No one can ever tell me different.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you put your ass on the line for a guy that was a complete and utter fucking mess.”

“Well I guess I just saw the potential,” she chides, and then kisses him; fingernails lightly scraping along the bottom of his hairline “You know what I really want right now?”

“I’m hoping you’re going to say sex, but I have a sneaky feeling that’s not it.”

“Leftover Chinese food. And my last chocolate croissant.”

“And then sex?”

Laying a hand on the side of his head, she pulls him closer; placing a series of feathery kisses along his jaw and then grinning against his ear. “Maybe.”

*****

An hour later they sit in the sunroom; the remnants of a late night meal on the coffee table, the area illuminated by strings of multi-colored Christmas lights lining each pane of glass and the soft glow given off by the space heater. It’s the kind of quiet and relaxation that is extremely rare to find especially during the holiday season; one that comes only when everything on your ‘to do list’ has been checked off. It’s a relief to have it all done; every last minute gift snagged, almost all the wrapping relegated to a very accommodating and willing Desi, fridges and freezers stocked and the house fully decorated both inside and out.

It had been a learning process; getting comfortable with celebrating the season while still harbouring painful childhood trauma and the memories of six Christmases with his first child. But Esme had made it easier; never pushing him to ‘get into the spirit’ and knowing what lines shouldn’t be crossing and learning to step back when the trauma of the past would begin to fester. Seeing her enjoyment of the holiday had helped; the excitement she shows over something as simple as a walk or a drive to look at other peoples’ lights, the joy she gets in buying things for the kids and keeping the magic alive and seeing their faces light up on Christmas morning. And he’d come around a little bit at a time; a distaste for the holiday becoming more bearable as the years went on and eventually being replaced with actual enjoyment and appreciation. And now that the hard work is done, it’s time to relish in accomplishment; a quiet house and the ambiance and the press of her head against his chest and the feel of her hair as it slowly slips through his fingers. He’d gladly stay there all the night; away from the giggles and chatter that drift down from their daughter’s room, lulled to sleep by the familiar weight of his wife’s body against his and the warmth that radiates from her. Nothing sexual about it; just quiet, soft intimacy in its purest form.

His eyes flicker open when he feels her move away; head lifting from the back of the couch and as her hair slips from between his fingers. “You okay?”

She gives a sheepish, almost nervous smile. “We need to talk.”

“So no, you’re not.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m okay.”

“Babe, nothing good ever comes after ‘we need to talk’.”

“Everything’s fine. The kids are good, I’m good, we’re good. Just something has been eating at me all day and I wasn’t even going to bring it up but I just know it’s going to keep me up all night if I don’t get it out.”

“How bad is this thing that’s been eating at you? Because the way you said ‘we need to talk’...”

“It’s not bad. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, it’s maybe a three. A four. At the most.”

“Okay. What is it? What’s going on?”

“Before I tell you…” she turns her body to face him. “.... there’s some other things I need to say. First, I want you to promise you won’t get upset.”

“It’s obviously worse than a four if you think it’s going to upset me. It takes a lot; for you to piss me off.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘pissing you off’. Just I can totally see why you might take it the wrong way and get defensive. And there’s no reason for you to be. Defensive.”

“It’s not about the job is it? Because we already talked about that and I already said I would stay home. Or at least if I did have to go somewhere, I’d stay completely behind the scenes. So if it’s about that…”

“It’s not about the job. That’s water under the bridge. We dealt with it. And may I add, we dealt with that very well. EXTREMELY well. You didn’t get worked up and we didn’t fight and that’s a big thing for us. A huge thing. And that’s a REALLY nice change; it shows we’re a lot stronger now.”

“So if it’s not about the job…”

“I need you to promise. That you won’t get upset. That you won’t get defensive even though it might seem like you need to be.”

“I promise. I’ll keep my shit together.”

“Second, I need you to know that I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And you ARE the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Hands down. You’re an amazing husband and an even more amazing father and I couldn’t have asked for a better dad for my kids. And I appreciate you so much. Everything you do for us. For our family. How you care for us and provide for us and…”

“As nice as it is to hear all this, you’re rambling. And while I normally find that cute, it’s actually really unnerving right now. So maybe just spit it out? What’s going on? Why are you so edge? What’s got you all worked up?”

“Okay. I’m just going to ask and hope for the best. Just remember, there’s no reason to get defensive and I’m NOT accusing you of anything. It might seem like I am, but I’m not. I promise.”

“Are you going to get it out sometime today or…?”

“How friendly were you? To that neighbour the other day?”

“What neighbour?”

“The new one. The single mom. At the park. Natalie. The tall blond who looks like Sephora threw up on her face? Remember her?”

“What about her?”

“How friendly WERE you with her?”

He can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“You said you talked to her. What did you talk about?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“There’s a reason I’m asking. I’m not just asking to ask. I knew you met her and I know you talked to her and…”

“And what? What ARE you trying to ask? Because you said I shouldn’t get defensive and it seems like maybe I should. ARE you accusing me of something?”

“No. I’m not. I am not accusing of anything. I know you, Tyler. I know your heart. I know you love me and that you’d never, EVER cheat on me. So I am not accusing you of that. I never would.”

“So then what the fuck? What do you mean how friendly was I? When have you known me to be friendly with ANYONE? Especially people I don’t know. Are you suggesting I did something? Because that is totally it, Esme. I fucked her...in the dead of winter...in public...with my son twenty feet away. Is that what you WANT to hear?”

“No! God no. And that’s not what I’m suggesting at all. I just want to know. What you talked to her about. That’s it.”

“Why? What the hell does it matter? You’re always on my ass about how I should be more social and make an effort to meet people. Now all of a sudden you’re changing your mind? ‘Cause you’re worried about some neighbour? What the hell…?”

“Hear me out, please,” she begs, and takes both of his hands in hers. “This isn’t about me being neurotic and my self esteem issues and my weirdness about other women.”

“Seriously? Because that’s EXACTLY what this is about. This happens every fucking time we go somewhere. You get all worked up because you think women are paying attention to me. Because you think all these housewives and mothers are so thirsty they’d actually give a fuck about me. You think way too highly of me.”

“Okay, first off, no I don’t. You happen to be incredibly attractive. The blue eyes? The smile? The body? The whole vibe you’ve got going on? The resting bitch face? The tattoos and the scars and the whole intimidation factor? It’s very sexy. Whether you realize it or not. And I know you can’t help it. You’re just naturally beautiful. I’m not blaming you for that. But I do have a reason. For being the way I am. For having the issues I do.”

“Yeah, your brain is fucked up. Just as much as mine is.”

“You may not see it...all the women that check you out and thirst over you...but I do. All the time. But we’re not talking about the soccer park or the school yard. We’re talking about the park. And Natalie. The pretty single mom.”

“She’s not pretty. I don’t think she’s pretty.”

“Are you blind? You must be. Your eyes must be worse than my thought.”

“She’s not pretty. Not to me. She’s not my type.”

“You don’t have a type. In fact, your type used to be anything that walked with a wiggle.”

“I’ve had a type for the last twelve and a half years. If you want to call it having a ‘type’. You. You’re the only one that matters to me. You’re the only woman that I give a shit about. You might as well be the only one that exists on the entire fucking planet. All I want is you. That’s it. So what the fuck…?”

“She showed up here today. Asking for you.”

“Who did?”

Esme sighs in exasperation. “Natalie. The neighbour.”

“She came here?”

“And asked for you. She came calling on another woman’s husband. You don’t find that at least a little bit strange? That she would do that? That she would show up on our doorstep looking for you? You don’t find that even a little weird?”

“I find it a lot weird. I don’t know why she’d come here. I wasn’t THAT nice. It was small talk. Nothing more than that. I was my usual pleasant self.”

“Well, you certainly made an impression on her. Enough that she felt comfortable coming here. And talking to your daughter AND your wife. Let me just say, her social etiquette needs some work. She’s not as charming and witty as she thinks she is. Her people skills are a tad rusty.”

“What did she want?”

“To talk to you. To give you her cookie.”

He chuckles. “Is that a code language for…?”

“No. She literally brought you cookies. That she made for you.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme’s eyes narrow.

“I’m kidding. That was a joke. Probably not the best time to make one, mind you.”

“Oatmeal raisin if you need to know ALL the details.”

“Worst cookie EVER. You don’t know betrayal until you bite into one thinking it’s chocolate chip and you find out it’s THAT.”

“I’m pretty sure she was also offering up HER cookie. On a silver platter.”

“And if she was? Who the fuck cares? I don’t want anything from her. I talked to her at the park. Welcomed her to the neighbourhood. That was it. Everything else is on her. If she read too much into it, that’s her problem. Not mine. I made small talk and that was it. And you know how much I hate small talk.”

“I know YOU didn’t do anything. I know you. I know who you are and what you’re like. I wasn’t suggesting that you made a move on her or led her on or anything like that. You know that, right? That I’m not accusing you of anything?”

“I know you’re not. But it does seem like you are.”

“I know. And I don’t mean for it to sound that way. It just upset me. Her showing up here. Asking for you. That is so many shades of wrong. Why would someone do that?”

“Why would a man follow someone’s wife home from the post office? Someone’s noticeably pregnant wife.”

“That’s NOT the same thing.”

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s worse. You were pregnant with my kid. You told him you were married. And he still followed you home.”

“And you took care of it. You scared the shit out of him. Knocked him on his ass. All’s well that ends well.”

“Doesn’t mean I liked it. The fact some fucking asshole followed my wife home. You say I don’t notice things? How come you never notice all the men that pay attention to you? I notice it. Why don’t you?”

“It doesn’t happen that often.”

“It happens all the fucking time. And some of them are actually brave enough to be right out there with it. That takes a lot of balls; being that bold in front of someone’s husband. You think I like THAT? When men check you out?”

“You never say anything. You never act like it’s bothering you. If it does, why don’t you just say something?”

“Because I trust you. Because I’m secure. When it comes to knowing how you feel about me. I don’t see these guys as competition. A pain in the ass. But not competition.”

“That’s because they’re not. I don’t give a shit about any of them. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I am perfectly happy with you. I love the way things are. With you. None of them matter to me.”

“Then why does it bother you what other women do? Why does it bother you so much? You don’t trust me?”

“What? No. I do. I DO trust you. You are not the problem. They are.”

“That doesn’t make ANY sense. How can they be a problem when I won’t let them be? I don’t give a fuck about any of them. How can they cause issues if I won’t let them? What do you think they’re going to do, Me? You can’t steal someone away unless they WANT to be. And you know what? As much as you drive me fucking insane, I am perfectly happy where I am. With who I have.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Being around that. Those women. You don’t…”

“I DO know what it’s like. Guys check you out all the time. Do you see me going all neurotic about it?”

“Well, being neurotic IS my thing,” she sheepishly admits.

“This needs to stop. You being like this. It has been twelve and a half years of this, Me. And it’s tiring. I love you. And I have to tell you until my very last breath that I love you and I don’t want anyone else, I’ll do it. But it doesn’t mean it it doesn’t grate on my fucking nerves.”

“You knew I was like this. You knew my issues. Going into things. If they pissed you off THAT bad…”

“They don’t piss me off. Is it annoying, yes? Can I live with it? Also a yes. I will put up with it. Until my dying day. Because I love you. But I would give anything to put an end to it.”

“I can’t help it. Being like this. I’m not you, Tyler. You’re secure and you’re confident and you’re able to just ignore other men.”

“Because I trust you.”

“And I trust YOU. You are NOT the problem. And I know it doesn’t make any sense to you. Me worrying about other women when I know for a fact you’d never cheat on me. But I do. Worry about them.”

“Why? Tell me why you worry about them? What do you think they’re going to do, Esme? Tell me. What do you think is going to happen?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“That is NOT an acceptable answer for anyone over six. Try again.”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what I’m thinking. But you don’t hear what they say. The women at the soccer park on the school yard. I do. I hear it. I hear them talking about how ugly and plain and boring looking I am and how they can’t understand why someone like you would be with someone like me,” she struggles to hold back a threatening flood of tears. “They don’t hide it, Tyler. They don’t talk about these things in secret. They make sure I hear it. And you know what? It hurts. A lot. And if I tell you something hurts me, you don’t have the right to tell me it doesn’t.”

“I’m not doing that, babe. I’m not saying it shouldn’t hurt you. And I’m sorry. That it does. That you hear stuff like that.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault. You can’t help what they say.”

“Do you want me to say something? To them? The next time I pick the kids up? Because I will. I’m not shy when it comes to telling people off. You know that. And when it comes to protecting you…”

“It would just make things worse. I can just hear them now. Talking about what a cry baby I am and how you deserve a real woman. Don’t say anything. It’ll just set them off. Things are bad enough as they are.”

“Why don’t you tell them to fuck off? You usually don’t back away from shit like that.”

“Because that’s our kids’ school and we’ve been on the principal’s shit list before and I don’t want to make things hard on our kids. But it does bother me. Hearing that stuff. And it DOES hurt.”

“But it shouldn’t. That’s what I’m saying. Just let go in one ear and out the other. Who gives a fuck what they think? What does it matter? I love you. I have always loved you. I always WILL love you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Isn’t that enough? What I think? Why isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t know. I want it to be. And I know it should be. I know you love me. I’ve never doubted that. Not even during those six months. Even then, I knew you did. You just needed to get your shit together. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I don’t why I’m like this. Why I can’t get past it. I think I’m getting better and then something happens and it’s back to square one.”

“Your mom fucked you up. So did Mark. You went through a lot of shit. Especially with him. But I’m not Mark, Esme.”

“I know. I know you’re not.”

“Do you? Because sometimes I’m not sure you do.”

The tears come freely now; body trembling with the force of the emotions that accompany them. And he places a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him; a forearm across the small of her back as her body presses tightly against his and her arms immediately circle his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs against his shoulder. “I never meant to make you feel that way. Like I was comparing you to him.”

“I know.” One hand repeatedly strokes his hair, the other settling at the small of her back. “I know you didn’t.”

“Because you’re NOT him. You’re nothing like him. And I’ve never thought you are. I’m sorry, Tyler. For making you that feel that way. I never meant it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Me. He fucked you up. Badly. I’m just the guy that came after. The one that has to try and clean up his mess. And if it takes the rest of my life to do that? Then I’ll deal with it. I can’t make it better. I can’t take it all away; make it like it never happened. I wish I could.”

“I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to be crazy and neurotic and a freaking mess.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, you’re a beautiful mess.”

She manages a small laugh. “I don’t know what to do. To make this better. To make ME better. And it’s not fair to you. To have to deal with this shit.”

“I’ve brought more shit to the table than you have. And you’ve always dealt with it. I figure it’s the least I can do. Put up with your crap.”

“I don’t want to be like this. I can’t live like this for the rest of my life. I just can’t. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix me. And it shouldn’t be up to you to do it.”

“You’re my wife. You’re the mother of my kids. I love you. It’s what we do. Help each other. Fix one another. You’re not in this by yourself.” He presses a kiss to her temple and tightens his hold on her. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get you past all this.”

“What if we can’t? What if it CAN’T be fixed?”

“Then we live it. I spent the rest of my life constantly reassuring you that I’m not going anywhere. That I love you and think you’re the most beautiful in the world. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll take one for the team.”

“You’re so generous,” she chides. “Always so willing to sacrifice yourself.”

“Well, we do crazy shit for love. When we get home, you should go and talk to Doctor Klein. Tell him what’s going on. How you’ve been feeling. If anyone can figure shit out, it’s him.”

“You’ll come with me, right? I think you should. Come with me.”

“You know I will. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

She pulls away to look at him, sitting back at her heels. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he declares, and lays his hands on the sides of her face and uses his thumbs to wipe away the lingering tears.

“I know all snotty nose and puffy eyed isn’t my best look, but maybe we could have sex now?”

He grins. “Maybe. Would it make you feel better?”

She nods. “Being worshipped ALWAYS makes me feel better.”

“What can I say? I’m always willing to cheer you up. Besides, your body’s a temple, babe. It deserves to be worshipped.”

“It’s a temple, alright. Ancient and crumbling. Probably haunted.”

“It’s beautiful,” his hands move to the front of the plaid shirt she wears; enormous and baggy on her tiny frame. “And sexy.”

“Even after seven kids?”

His fingers tend to opening the buttons on the shirt. “ESPECIALLY after seven kids.”

“You always have the right thing to say. Your sweet talking is improving.”

“I thought you preferred dirty talk?”

“I do. Dirty talk is my favourite. Especially YOUR dirty talk. That voice? That accent? I’m wet just thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” With a playful smirk, he forcibly shoves her onto her back; a palm on either side of her head as outstretched arms brace his much heavier and bulkier frame. “In that case, shut up and let me fuck you.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

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thatblondeperson · 4 years

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TimSteph, taking care of chronic injuries!

Hey look, another ask that got buried! Sorry friend!!!!

This is all preboot, RR/Batgirl era.

Ok so Tim is super extra imo when it comes to treating any kind of sickness, injury, ANYTHING. He’s the type of guy who will go to CVS and buy out the entire “cold + flu” aisle as soon a Steph gets a runny nose. He absolutely drowns her in cough drops and tissues. I can see him being extremely attentive as well. Like bringing blankets and pillows around the clock, happy to carry her from point A to point B, almost insisting to do so on occasion, and just sitting with her for as long as she desires/needs company. He absolutely pays no mind to germs. Steph can cuddle all she wants.

Steph is similar but less extra. She’s got some more classic home remedies that Tim doesn’t have. She absolutely would baby the hell out of him if he got sick though, and probably more often than not she has to put her foot down on him trying to patrol even if he’s completely out of it and burning up. Tim has a hard time relaxing, but eventually the time is used for him to catch up on sleep. Tim getting sick is like a mini-hibernation. I can see Alfred stepping in occasionally if they were both sick because Tim’s an absolute mess, and Steph can only do so much before she gets wiped out. They’re hopeless and completely out of service if they’re both ill at the same time. Error 404: Dorks not found.

Chronic injuries are a constant process. Steph obviously has a ton just from Black Mask alone. I’m sure she gets aches and pains on the regular due to the severity of the torture she experience. Power drills would leave some lasting abdominal pain for sure. Hell, I wonder if it makes cramps worse for her? It could in all honestly. She may need serious pain meds during that time of the month which are of course always kept on hand. On top of that, the physical trauma definitely left endless mental trauma. No question about it. Not to mention that time she got lightly shot in the head. I say lightly because I forgot this was a thing because they don’t really address it again. I imagine that would cause occasional headaches/migraines, and I’m sure Tim likes to run a scan every now and again to make sure there isn’t any lasting damage. And of course, we return to the medicine cabinet for more pain pills. (Thank you @incoherentbabblings for reminding me of the gunshot.)

I headcanon that both of them get nightmares on almost the regular. They’ve both got it set that if one of them is in the middle of a bad nightmare, the other just holds them close, doing whatever they can to soothe them until the calmness sets back in. The nightmares get more spaced out some time after they move in together because I think the constant safeness of having someone beside them every night would eventually help them both sleep through the night better. It is hard to get back to sleep though. Both of them have been put through the ringer, they’ve both seen death of loved ones up close and personal, and I imagine a lot of what they’ve experienced is still very vivid and intense for them.

Tim’s got his own fair share of recurring pain. The boy doesn’t have a spleen and tbh I don’t know how he’s not getting sick more frequently. But extra precautions need to be taken to keep him from getting infections when he gets any kid of open wound, thank GOD Steph is a nurse. Tim has to be kept pretty healthy though if at all possible, which brings us back to my previous headcanon about him not caring about germs when Steph is sick? Yeah, not his smartest move, but Tim’s an idiot and forgets that he’s fragile.

Both of them have regular joint issues. They’ve dislocated enough things for just about everything to make awful clicking sounds now and again. Steph doesn’t have as much regular muscle pain, she’s far more flexible than Tim is so she stays pretty loose and limber, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to work at it every day. Steph does yoga as a part of her routine. She gets Tim to join sometimes but he’s not very good at keeping up with it. He’s flexible too but not to her level, and he locks up easier if he’s had an especially tough night. They both try to put the time in to exercise when they can, spotting each other, keeping a routine going, because given how much they both get beaten and battered on the daily, if they don’t keep up with muscle pain, it’ll just get worse. On bad days when the pain makes any mobility difficult, massages ensue. They’ve got at least 15 ice packs in the freezer at all times, and a stack of heating pads in the medicine cabinet. And if all else fails, a nice hot bubble bath never hurts. With Epsom salts and everything. Steph likes to add a touch of lavender oil.

Immediate injuries they’re both very good at treating. Steph obviously has more technical knowhow, and she is the most medically trained of all the Batfam members, but Tim is detail oriented and good at focusing when he needs to so he can keep up just fine. They’re both good at stitches and general wound treatment, but Steph is better at consistent treatment. Tim will absolutely forget to switch out his bandages or clean things because his brain is soup and he cannot be bothered to think about injuries when he’s too busy with 50 other things on the constant. He needs to slow down. We get right back into “more prone to infections” again. Alas. Idiot.

They both have their fair share of mental health issues, though Tim’s tend to be more intense. Steph has her ways of managing her own mental state but Tim gets stuck often. He falls into some pretty deep depression spells, and his anxiety acts up fairly frequently. Steph has started teaching him how to meditate, but also has a list of distractions and special remedies that she can utilize if need be. Movies and tea are a good base line, though Tim’s mind gets very far away sometimes and it’s hard to pull him back out. Like he almost wants to wallow in his sadness. Often she just tries to ground him as best she can so he doesn’t get so lost that he can’t come back. Steph likes to make sure that he isn’t always using patrol as a crutch for when he’s feeling upset or tense. It’s hard to sway him away from more pain when he lets himself get so close to the edge. It breaks her heart, sometimes she feels helpless.

Steph has anxiety as well, and some psychosomatic tics from her past abuse. She needs a lot of reassurance and gentleness when her mind starts racing. She’s still prone to trust issues, even now when she’s surrounded herself with stable people. She’s been let down and she fears losing her steady ground sometimes. Tim, let’s face it, hasn’t been the most reliable in the past, but I firmly believe that with some growing up he’d step up to the plate and try to be a solid home base for her to the best of his abilities. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. He’s very good at being gentle. That’s canon as fuck. I will die on the hill that Tim is as delicate with Steph as one would be with a priceless porcelain heirloom. Fight me, the boy would never intentionally try to physically or mentally hurt her. He tries so hard to reassure her but I thinks he feels a little helpless sometimes too. Some of her trust issues are his fault, and he can’t just snap his fingers and reverse his mistakes. He tries his best, but there will always be scars.

All in all, I think they’re both very tender and caring with one another. They’re both beyond broken sometimes, and they are a mess and a half. But they know each other, they know each others pain and sadness and I think once they got back together they’d settle very easily into a care routine. Both of them are carrying the weight of countless consequences and mistakes and hardship on their shoulders. Pain is just a side affect that comes with carrying so much baggage, but it’s a little easier to manage when they have each other for support. I do think some of it would get easier over time, and my wish for them is that they can move somewhere just outside the city, maybe by a lake. Far enough away that things are quiet, but not so far that they would completely leave the hero gig behind. I agree with the consensus that neither of them could fully quit. Tim would just sink into the background, but Steph would be out there in the field for many years. Justas long as they have somewhere safe and comfortable to return to, I think they’ll both be just fine. Plus smooches are the best fallback medicine for all ailments and we all know that they never run out of those. 😘💋

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK! More than half of this was not anything to do with chronic injuries but fuck it. We’ve tapped into the hurt/comfort section of my brain and there is a lot of material there to work with. Idk when you sent this in but I hope it wasn’t too long ago. I hope this answered more questions than you ever intended to ask. 💜❤

#TimSteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #robin iii #spoiler #robin iv #red robin #batgirl #batfam #batfamily #dc comics #dc #batman #personal #ask tbp

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cloudhayato · 4 years

Text

Greek Yogurt Melancholy

Happy @khrobscureshipweek guys

Lancia/Giannini

Lancia jerked awake from his nap. His heart was pounding and his face was drenched in sweat. Looking down, for a split second he expected to see blood on his hands, but there was nothing. Just the calloused and scarred skin after years of use. He blinked, needing a moment to process all this, and then let out a heavy sigh.

Nightmares again, huh? Even though it was all over, he still couldn't get a good night's sleep. He probably never will, and he doesn't deserve it. Even if Mukuro made him do it, all their deaths are still on him. He's the one who slit their throats and crushed their skulls and-

Yeah, he needed to do anything other than think right now. Getting up to his feet, he felt the weight of exhaustion push down on his shoulders, and dragged his feet towards the kitchen.

His apartment wasn't anything big or stylish. It was a small space with only a bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. That was all he needed though, he wasn't one for excess amenities.

Opening his fridge door, Lancia glanced at the almost barren shelves and felt a migraine coming on. Reaching towards the back, he grabbed a carton of greek yogurt and went to his drawers to pull out a spoon. The sour taste would help him feel more awake, and it was one of the few things he genuinely enjoyed.

After he sat down at his table, he popped the lid off, and felt his heart fall. Empty. Why would he even put the empty carton back in the fridge? Did he really hate himself that much? This was the sole event that almost made him consider therapy, but he pointedly ignored those thoughts and forcefully got up.

He'd just go to the store and buy more greek yogurt. It wasn't the end of the world, no need to be dramatic about it.

...Except he didn't have a car, and glancing at the clock, which said 7pm, he knew the store would close two hours from now. He wouldn't make it on foot. There was another option available for him, but he didn't feel good about it. Asking for things made him feel weak, and this would put him in the vicinity of another person, when he really would rather be alone.

Swallowing his pride, which was almost as sour as the yogurt he was craving, he walked towards his rotary phone and slowly inputted the numbers.

"Hello?" The familiar voice of Giannini said from the other line. "Mr. Lancia, is that you?"

He still didn't get how Giannini always knew it was him. Technology just never made sense to him.

"Yeah, Giannini, it's me." He answered. "I'm sorry to be asking you this so late, but could you drive me to the store?"

God, he sounded pathetic. He would never willingly learn how to drive one of those deathtraps though. Last time he tried to stop a plane from crashing, let's say the plane still crashed and his presence didn't really affect anything.

"Oh, yes of course Mr. Lancia!" Giannini chirped, as bright and chipper as always. "I'll be there in five minutes, just hold on one moment!"

"Yeah, thank you, Giannini."

Lancia waited for the familiar 'click' to signal the end of the call, and then put the receiver down. Pressing his forehead against the wall, he was already regretting this decision. Just thinking about it was draining, and he sounded so pathetic asking someone to come pick him up just so he could get some yogurt.

There was nothing he could do about it now though. He'd dug his hole and now he had to lay in it, no changing that now.

Lancia stayed like that the entire five minutes. His mind raced through constant mental turmoil, but that was his default state so it was fine, until he heard the doorbell ring. Finally removing his head from the wall, he steeled his face in a default expression that looked like it could kill you, and answered the door.

At first, Lancia was confused. He had to look down to speak to everyone, but he wasn't expecting to look so far down. He also wasn't looking at Giannini. On the ground was this little metal disk thing. A hand had come out of the top, and was still hovering by the doorbell, before receding back into what could only be some kind of machine.

"Mr. Lancia!"

He didn't expect the machine to shout his name. It took him so by surprise that he almost crushed it under his foot on instinct, only stopping himself at the last moment. That voice was Giannini's.

A high pitched shriek erupted from the disk at this attempted murder. "Please wait a moment—"

"Where are you?" Lancia interrupted, looking around the hallway in confusion before back to the disk. "Is this thing like a phone?"

"Exactly that! This is a roomba I've modified to have a variety of extra uses than just vacuuming." Giannini gushed, before calming down and sounding a bit more sheepish. "I'm sorry to have startled you, I should have given you fair notice beforehand."

Most of that flew over Lancia's head, especially the roomba part, but the moment it came up, he stopped caring. Not that he'd say that out loud, Giannini sounded excited and shutting him down would be rude.

"It's fine. Where are you?" Lancia asked, trying not to sound too exhausted.

"Ah, I'm parked outside." Giannini answered.

The 'roomba' turned around and pointed towards the stairs. He lived on the second floor so just at the bottom would be the exit.

Lancia just grunted in affirmation.

He stepped over the roomba and doubled his pace. This already felt like it was taking forever. He literally just wanted some Greek Yogurt, that was it. If only life itself didn't hate him with a burning passion.

The staircase went in a circle pattern. Not really a spiral staircase, but how most stairs in a small space worked. Lancia just jumped the railing and fell perfectly through the middle part where no stairs touched. It was just the second floor after all.

He landed on his feet, knees bent a little, but he barely felt the landing anyways. The building manager behind his desk was looking at him with wide eyes, but he pointedly didn't make eye contact as he walked past. He really didn't need to deal with that right now.

Opening the door to the parking lot, Lancia recognized Giannini's car immediately. It was bright yellow, and the mechanic had told him it was a 'buggy' as if that meant anything to him. It was small and cramped, and Lancia could barely fit himself in it, but it's not like he was going to make Giannini make, yes he made that buggy, a whole new car just for him.

Giannini excitedly waved at him through the windshield. Lancia was grateful he remembered not to honk the horn this time. The loud noise activated his fight or flight, and he was hardwired to always choose fight. He still felt bad about completely crushing the engine, but Giannini assured him it was fine and he could fix it.

None of that mattered now though, and as Lancia opened the car door, he finally felt like he was getting somewhere. The roomba jumped in after him and crawled behind the seats. He didn't have anything more to say about the invention so he just didn't acknowledge it.

"It's been awhile." Giannini said conversationally as he started the engine. "What have you been up to?"

"Mulling over the sins of my past." Lancia answered honestly.

"Okay!" Giannini smiled uncomfortably. "I was working on upgrading my microwave in order to stabilize isotopes."

"Hm. Did it work?"

"No."

The conversation quieted down to an awkward silence after that, both unsure where to go from there. It was difficult for them to relate to one another. Giannini was the son of a brilliant inventor trying to live up to his father's legacy, and Lancia spent most of his early life possessed and forced to kill. Finding common ground was a challenge.

"What kind of greek yogurt do you like?" Giannini spoke up after a while, sounding nervous.

"...Regular." Lancia mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed talking about this.

"Oh, an excellent choice!" Gianni said, with a little more enthusiasm than necessary. "I'm a big fan of vanilla myself."

"Vanilla's fine. I just prefer it more sour." Lancia responded, and from there they descended into a very thoughtful conversation about flavours and their own preferences.

It was the most Lancia had spoken since returning to Italy.

Before they knew it, they arrived at the store. Lancia was actually genuinely surprised that the car ride wasn't another long, agonizing ordeal to go through. He actually felt a little energized, as strange as it was to say. He'd need to ruminate over this later when he got back to his apartment and was trying to sleep.

"Well, we're here!" Giannini said needlessly, since they'd been parked for around two minutes already.

"We are." Lancia repeated in his gruff voice, and then opened the door and stepped out.

It was a small little corner store that was several corners too far. Still, it was cheap and never too busy, and that ticked all of Lancia's boxes. Only one automatic door worked and Lancia had to step around the frozen one. He walked through the aisles, not making conversation with the cashier and the one other customer present.

After a bit of searching, he found what he was looking for. The long sought after prize, Greek Gods Greek Yogurt, and in this moment he'd never felt so happy before to finally buy some gross dairy product.

As he went to grab the yogurt from the fridge, something else caught his attention. A little notice advertising a sale. 'Buy one get one free!' it said, and after some hesitation, he grabbed a second one.

Quickly, he paid for them and left the store. Giannini waved at him again as he stepped into the parking lot, and Lancia looked away, feeling kind of embarrassed. Hurrying over, he opened the door and took his seat beside Giannini.

"Did you find what you were looking for, Mr. Lancia?" Giannini asked, looking at him curiously.

Without saying anything, Lancia handed him the second greek yogurt. It was vanilla.

Giannini let out a small gasp as he took the yogurt, and out of the corner of his eye, Lancia could see the mechanic's lips quirk up in a delighted smile.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Lancia!" Giannini sounded so happy it was almost ridiculous.

"Yeah, no problem." Lancia said, and after a moment of hesitation. "It's just Lancia, by the way."

Giannini's eyes softened at that, as he handed over plastic spoons he had in his glove compartment along with various tools.

"Okay then. Thank you, Lancia."

Maybe this outing wasn't as bad as Lancia thought. The greek yogurt tasted a little sweeter on his tongue, and he found that he didn't mind as much.

It was nice.

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #khrobscureshipweek #khr giannini #khr lancia #Giannini doesn't have a fandom shorthand so I have to name this ship #For organization purposes on my blog #Giancia #There we go #97 incomprehensible moments #That's my writing tag now #Anyways this was a request and it definitely is obscure so I thought I'd submit it to the even #t #Yes someone request Giannini/Lancia with the prompt Greek Yogurt #I love making typos in long tags :/

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kawaiijellymonster · 3 years

Text

So I’ve got a note in my notes app called “Fanfic lines that should be in a hall of fame” and it’s gotten pretty long so I figure I’ll toss it on here so yall can enjoy it, most of them are: mha, zukka, miraculous ladybug, harry potter, and I think one is from a comment on a hannibal amv, But here you go:

Stain sold papers because he just had an aura about him that drew people in, like people who slow down to look at car crashes.

“The Rumor Come Out: Does Todoroki Shoto is Gay?”

Izuku spent the next week going to his normal martial arts classes, studying, and drinking gallons of coffee. Not healthy but he could deal with it. His body was never meant to be permanent.

So no one was watching when Mei placed her forehead against his, breath fanning across his face as she spoke. "Wake up Loki… the world needs you."

“No probs ‘lil listener!” Hizashi said, striking a dramatic pose. “I’ll be your DJ all through the night, bringin’ you such rockin’ hits as safety, security and sweet dreams!”

“This is stupid! Screw the waiting and screw these stupid butterflies. They're not paying rent, the little shits--”

Experimenting with unstable genetic mutant abominations is more of an art than a science, really."

Several looks pass across both their faces. “No flying for a month,” Sirius declares. That sucks, actually. But he’s also a hundred percent certain he can get them to cave on that in two weeks tops. “Okay. Is that for the breaking into the Ministry, destroying the Department of Mysteries, making a bargain with Voldemort, or bringing all my friends with me?” “It’s for recklessly endangering your own life again,” Remus says, “and while the punishment very much doesn’t fit the crime, we’re a bit at a loss for what else to do.” “It wasn’t reckless!” he protests. “We had a plan and everything, and we even brought an adult! An adult Order member! Also what else were we supposed to do, let Snape die?” Sirius takes a deep breath, but Remus steps on his foot before he can put it in his mouth. “Which is why you’re only getting flying privileges taken away and not thrown in a cell in Azkaban for our sanity and your safety.” As if any cell could hold him. “I accept your terms.”

“Who’s Theophania?” Sirius asks. Harry hesitates. Perhaps bringing her up was his smartest decision, strategically speaking. “If I tell you you’re not allowed to throw me in Azkaban. Or ground me.” “This isn’t a negotiation,” Sirius repeats. If Blaise has taught him anything, it’s that everything is a negotiation. “She’s a friend.” “And?” Sirius repeats. Remus suddenly grabs onto Sirius’s shoulder, “Wait. Petrifying - during your second year - is Theophania - she’s not the basilisk.” “No, they killed it,” Sirius says automatically. Harry remains silent. “Harry!” He rubs his nose. “It turns out I’m not that good at killing things. Unkilling things, however? My specialty.”

“It’s okay,” Nanaia says, “you don’t know. What do you do when you don’t know something?” “Try something you do know and hope it doesn’t make everything worse?” For some reason, Horace looks sad at that answer, and Dumbledore shifts from one foot to the other. “No,” she says, “you ask for help.” Oh.

“It’ll piss off your son,” he answers bluntly. “Fuck that kid,” Riddle Sr. says

“You played me!” “Like a cheap kazoo”

Batman sighed, before speaking in a voice that was so unlike his usual growl that most of the other League members almost fell out of their chairs. Diana and Clark seemed to be used to it. “Damian,” he started. His voice was still deep, but a regular-deep, instead of I-just-swallowed-six-buckets-of-gravel deep.

“She loved James too,” she assures, and the confidence she says that with allows him to breathe, like someone has let go of his lungs. “It is possible to love more than one person at the same time. She loved your father with the type of love that’s – that was like a shooting star, burning and bright and touching everyone around them. Her love for Severus was different, and in the end it wasn’t the type of love either of them could handle.”

You’re better at it now then many people are after leaving a full apprenticeship, and you’ve only had a year of lessons a couple of times a week instead of years of intensive study. Do you know why that is?” “Luck?” he offers weakly. For some reason, he doesn’t like the direction this is going in. “No,” she says. “To be good at healing, the way you are, the way I am, you need a certain combination of things. Intelligence, power, control, but more than that. Stubbornness, a tricky balance of flexibility and inflexibility, and a constant, brutal assessment over your own skills. And something else.” “A propensity towards poor life choices?” he suggests. Poppy shakes her head, not taking the bait. “No. You have to care. You have to care about everyone, even people you dislike, and you have to care so much that if feels like it’s killing you, you have to care and that care has to hurt, until the only thing that hurts worse than caring is not caring. To be good at this, you have to let it hurt you.”

“You two shouldn’t have bothered dressing formally for Albus, he’s a bitch.” Harry doesn’t have any idea what’s going on, but he’s loving it.

“It was on the syllabus,” Zuko whispered conspiratorially to his mother. Sokka gasped. “You know I don’t read those!” “This is your own fault then.” “I like to be surprised. The procrastination keeps me humble.”

sometimes you remind me of the stars youre gorgeous and happy and can always brighten me on the darkest days and even when youre dampened you can guide me home

“imagine you are the only person who loves to play chess more than anything but nobody else in the world has ever heard about chess. and then you see a person holding a chessboard. it’s like your whole world was reborn”

"I wanted to be a stripper in middle school," Izuku said. Yup, that's a good cover.

What you’re asking for isn’t fair or right. You can’t ask a person for more than they’re willing to give

In Mei’s words, “You have about five minutes of ‘fuck that one thing in particular.’ Make them count.”

“Mei, let me introduce your new best friend. This is Momo. She has a Quirk that lets her make anything as long as she knows its composition inside and out. All you have to do is buy her dinner,“ Izuku said,

The cameras were looped. The bots were hacked. It was a good day to be a villain.

“None. The alarm never left the building.” “Really? Why is that?” “Mei finished first and decided to do you a favor. However, you've got the fire alarm just starting to go off and that's on a different circuit. Take a fast way down.” “Understood,” Hitoshi drawled. A moment later he was looking back at the crew. “Ladies and Frenchman. We take the express.”

Quinn is talking like that actually answers his question when it really, really doesn’t. “If you don’t start making sense, I’ll cry.”

“You’re one of my best students,” ze says. “You should understand the importance of timing. Speaking of, you’re late for your next class.”

Fuck, he totally is. “Thank you for that very confusing answer. I’ll think of you while crying myself to sleep.”

He’d wondered if that was what bravery was, to be quiet even when you were hurting so much you wanted to scream.

maybe bravery was also running screaming at the thing that nearly killed you, to keep it from killing someone else.

“Apologies are not difficult. Good apologies revolve around three basic points. One, I acknowledge what I did was wrong. Two, I regret that you were harmed. Three, this is how I plan to make sure it does not happen again. That’s all. Apologies are easy.” Then she’d glanced at them all again, evaluating. “And if you become very, very good at your job... they will be the absolute hardest thing you ever do.”

“Even though we’re a bunch of migraine-inducing hellions who are smart enough to know when something is a bad idea and stupid enough to still do it?”

“You’re like the nice china that Al only brings out for Christmas. Except Bruce just realised that I stole it, and chipped it. Maybe it’s time I give it back before I shatter all the pieces.”

she won’t co-parent my perfectly reasonable and well-behaved children.” Clark snorts. “Damian’s trying to stab Tim, right now.”

"Oh, my knight in shining armour. What would I do without you?" the teen droned, placing a dramatic hand on her head.

"I think you mean 'knight in shining leather', M'Lady. And without me, you would be left alone in this kingdom of lies.”

"It's a kingdom, alright. It'll topple sooner or later." "That's the spirit!" Adrien laughed.

Here’s something that a harbinger of tragedy would never find the courage to admit: there are moments in between the bitter self-hatred and the visceral, tangible consequences of your sins in which you almost think you’re worthy of forgiveness; of second chances; of a life beyond your greatest regrets. It’s a unique brand of pain,

“Go directly to horny jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.”

“You can’t wait around for him to be sorry,” Izuku says. He’s quiet now. This isn’t something that’s meant to be shouted. “Maybe he’ll never be sorry. Maybe he doesn’t know he did anything wrong, or he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.” Cautiously he takes a step forward. “You can’t depend on the people who hurt you to be the ones to make it better, or it’s never going to get better. They’ll only disappoint you, or hurt you even worse, and then they’ll be gone and you’ll be waiting forever.”

Midoriya may be strong as hell, but that just means looking out for him has to be a team effort.

How would his new adoring fans react if they knew he raised a villain? He's no All-Might. His pillar's made of toothpicks, and it's not gonna take much to crack it.”

Tensei approaches Rei, “Okay, this plan is childish, unprofessional, and a discourtesy to this school's reputation. That being said, when do we nail the little twat?

Hinata is dead. Deceased. Passed away, laid to rest with a headstone that reads Here Lies Hinata Shouyou, Killed By A Wink And A Blown Kiss.

It’s dangerous to be a bad father when you have life insurance

#long post #fanfic lines that deserve to be in a hall of fame #fanfic #rambles #lol

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callsignbaphomet · 4 years

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Ok, so, originally this was gonna just be a million fuckin questions, and it'll prooooobably turn into one of those question chains from several months ago. BUT to start I think I can do just like, three. First, tell me ALL about the area in Norway where Jelani was growin up, absolutely anything and everything you can think of about it. Secondly, tell me ALL about babby Jelani! Again just anything and everything you can think of! Lastly, how exactly do those magic weapons work? :o Like, once they're made can anyone grab them? Can he only have one at a time? Stuff like that! Basically just use this as a chance to talk about all those things! :3

❤️❤️❤️

So Jelani was born and raised near what is known as Hammerfest today (woohoo subarctic climate!). Honestly he’s been everywhere and just about seen everything but nothing compares to when he was growing up in that area and watching the Aurora Borealis with family and friends in a comfortable silence while just taking it all in, ya know? Being born in 870 CE meant there was no light pollution so every night the sky always lit up and the stars were so shiny and there were millions and millions of them which was absolutely insane to see and had a lot of significance because of his mom’s culture and their relationship to the stars.

They were close to the coast so there was a lot of fishing and sailing. He was also partial to that area because it was close to the sea and close enough to the mountains where it felt like a happy in between. He’s not a fan of being too far from some source of water. That place was perfect as he could see all kinds of sea dwelling animals like whales and seals, squids though he’s not a fan, he’s kind of scared of squid especially the really big ones he saw every once in a while. He especially liked puffins as a kid since he thought they were kinda silly. Inland he saw his fair share of reindeer, foxes, bears, wolves and otters which he completely fell in love with and still loves as an adult. Show him pictures or videos of otters and he’ll melt, if he sees one irl he’ll practically die from the amount of cute. There were also the more supernatural creatures though he mostly grew up around a lot of werewolves.

Oh! And sure, he’s not a big fan of the sun but even he has to admit that the midnight sun is pretty impressive and beautiful in its own right. It was gorgeous to see it and he did enjoy walking around in the middle of the night and still see the sun out.

Also, despite the location, he was exposed to a lot of different people as the village was flagged as a safe area which saw a ton of traders and all were welcome regardless of who you were or if you were human or non-human. He saw everything and interacted with all sorts of people from the local Sámi People, Middle Eastern, Asian and even other African people. And after his mom found out her family were still alive and well they’d also visit each other when they could. Honestly, his upbringing was kinda fairy tale like.

______________________________________________________________

qasdxcfgbhn well, Jela as a little kid was always hanging around his parents, grandparents and especially his brother. Since Loke’s 13 years older than him Loke often watched him and played with him a lot, he wasn’t even asked to he just did it because baby brother. Like the instant Lo first saw him it was like love at first sight type of shit. He learned to speak clearly very early on which surprised everyone at how clear and structured his speech was for a kid so young and then they learned he was a very fast learner and really smart and was always curious and asking tons of questions.

Even since he was little he really loved animals so he was always seen chasing after them or somehow petting them and playing with them. Learned to ride and care for horses pretty fast and when he got his own it was like fireworks went off in his head. Even in present day he sees a horse and it’s like instant childhood memories flooding him. Btw his first horse was a mare he named Dagny, just like his ball python in modern times lol, it was a Fjord with a grey coat and a two tone mane and he loved her to bits. Aside from that there was the family dog named River because she loved to swim. He also liked cats but they didn’t have a cat because Loke was scared of them and Sanaa (for different reasons related to another creature) wasn’t fond of them. They don’t hate cats but they’d rather just keep ‘em at arm’s length.

Then teen Jelani who was...I don’t wanna use the word difficult because he wasn’t but let’s just say different for lack of a better word. It was around this time that he was realizing he wasn’t like his family and it actually hurt ‘im a lot. Especially since his mom was an arcane berserker and it was like a huge deal so they all thought he was gonna be one too. So in come the feelings of alienation and the doubts and the semi angst and the moodiness. He was never disrespectful to anyone but he was often moody and often felt down. Around this time he was also learning he had some unique abilities of his own that no one else had and since no one else had them he learned to control them but not without incidents. Not to mention that since he was very little he could see and hear and talk to things that no one else could really see. Some were friendly and others weren’t. Mix in the regular hormonal shit teenagers go through during puberty and it made for a bit of a mess. This kind of “weakened” him and his old self (which he nor anyone else knew of) was starting to rear in and it was kind of scary. He was actually fluctuating between his old personality which was chaotic af and his present self and both seemed to clash a lot. Once this started happening the migraine attacks and the nosebleeds began as well as the sleep paralysis, night terrors, insomnia and the nyctophobia and they all seemed to hit him really hard and suddenly. So all of that mixed in made the ages of 13 through 17 really, really fucking messy.

But family and friends were with him through it all and at 17 and a half he chilled out and learned to control himself and managed to suppress his old self. He’d learned to use and handle his abilities responsibly, still felt a little out of place but his family was sure to always let ‘im know they loved him no matter what and his grandfather especially let him know that his differences weren’t a bad thing and that they made ‘im special. By 18 he was back to his cheerful old self though sometimes he still felt bad about being different but didn’t let it get him down. However, he now had to cope with migraine attacks, night terrors, nyctophobia, random nosebleeds, insomnia and sleep paralysis which he still has even in present day.

______________________________________________________________

Okay so berserkers are non-humans that have the ability to summon powerful weapons and very sturdy armor from nothing thin air. The armor can take a beating but if they get targeted by a barrage of attacks the armor can break and they’d have to summon the armor again but there’s a cool down of about half an hour so it’s better to hang on to the armor even if broken or get your ass to safety. The weapons don’t break though. Oh and if an armor broke and they summon it again it’ll show up as good as new. Berserkers can summon up to two different weapons so which ones they summon depends on the person’s taste and comfort level.

These weapons can be summoned and dematerialized at will and have no cool down. Anyone can grab them if the berserker it belongs to doesn’t mind though why would a berserker use another one’s weapon unless they wanna be offensive and kill ‘em with their own weapon? It’s not offensive, more like yikes.

Now, since Jelani isn’t a berserker he managed to figure out a way to mimic berserkers’ ability to summon a weapon from thin air though unlike grown up berserkers he isn’t limited to just two types of weapons. For example Loke is able to summon a two headed axe and a bow, nothing more nothing less. Jelani can summon whatever he wants as he can manipulate the shape. His mom’s tribe are partial to glaives so he mainly uses a glaive. His weapons however are made of an unknown material that’s insanely hard and impossible to even crack. His weapons can’t be wielded by anyone other than himself bc as soon as someone else touches them they dematrerialize. It also looks weird, like it’s so dark it swallows all light and no light bounces off of it. He can’t summon armor though so that’s where the blacksmith comes in. His uncle Jørgen made his look like his dad’s and his mom’s.

#theonedayking #reply #Jelani tag #oc things #Oracle Corp #Oracle Corp tag

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idinink · 5 years

Text

keto

HI THIS POST WILL CONTAIN TALK ABOUT FOOD AND FOOD PLANNING, specifically my experience with the keto thing (i deliberately don’t call it a “diet” because that word is soooo loaded) so scroll on if you don’t wanna read, i will tag it as “keto” if you wanna blacklist. THERE WILL BE NO TALK OF WEIGHT LOSS, THIS BLOG IS ANTI-DIET CULTURE, ANTI FATPHOBIA, ANTI WEIGHT-LOSS-AS-GOAL.

details under cut

So it’s been just over 6 months, and I wanted to make a list for A) personal record-keeping reasons, B) a huge “thank you” to @swolerbear as he is the main reason I tried it, and C) in case anyone else is interested.

Disclaimer: I have not been even CLOSE to staying 100% low-carb. I’ve had carby periods, sometimes lasting up to 3 days, at least once a month. I knew when I started that I wouldn’t be strict with myself and I have no regrets and will likely continue being not-very-strict at all. However, I’ve stayed about 99% off desserts, which has been surprisingly easy as I’ve always had a major sweet tooth? I dunno why it’s been so easy and I’m not questioning it for now.

The expected/hoped-for good:

Migraines reduced from 1-3 per week to 1-3 per month

Noticeably stabilized mood

Increased energy*

The random/unexpected good:

Incredible improvement in singing voice. The past few years I truly thought I was losing my voice, but it’s totally back and I cannot express my joy and relief. Music and singing is a HUGE part of my identity and self-worth. I assume it has something to do with decreased mucus and inflammation.

Vastly improved body temperature regulation. I’ve always been cursed with hyperhydrosis (excessive sweating) and horribly icy cold hands and feet. Often at the same time. Yes, my feet would be simultaneously painfully cold and dripping sweat. Absolutely horrible and has ruined many a night’s sleep. What a relief! To sleep with warm dry bare feet under the skimming weight of a soft, clean pair of sheets -- such bliss!

Decreased tooth sensitivity. I have the good luck of very strong and healthy teeth, but the past couple years I��ve felt twinges when drinking/eating very cold foods, which was a totally new and demoralizing experience. Now am almost back to previous levels of imperviousness! Though the memory lingers so I’ll probably never crunch away obliviously at ice cubes again...

Regular periods? What? I have never ever EVER in my LIFE had regular periods. Anything from 30 to 90 freaking days was fair game. Now I’m every 33 days, Boom. Again I say, WHAT. They are also shorter: 1 day of bad cramping then 5 days of bleeding with slowly tapering cramping (as opposed to 3-4 days cramping then 7-8 days bleeding pre-keto). I put this in the “good” because surely it must be healthier to have regular cycles, right? It will also appear in the “bad” tho, ha.

The expected bad:

keto flu at first, tho it was very mild. A tiny bit of weakness the first week, then about 3 days of low level gut-ache. Increasing fat and electrolytes cleared it up. Zero issues since.

Increased sensitivity to carbs. They now will usually make my palms itch and I can expect some sort of mood meltdown, specifically a sudden attack of helpless despair and feelings of worthlessness. (This is going in the “bad” because it’s annoying, but obviously I was feeling these bad things before, they were just my “normal” so less noticeable.)

EXPENSIVE! Ugh. And frequently inconvenient.

Sometimes guilt-inducing. Especially bacon. I initially said “no pork” as pigs are dog-like and it’s much harder to find affordable humanely raised pork than beef/lamb/poultry/eggs/dairy. But....it’s such a valuable fat source that I’ve given in. For now. I love animals and have no “meat-drive” but all the research I did convinced me that current science A) unequivocally indicates humans are animals evolved to eat meat, and B) the agricultural complex is destroying the environment (and of course necessitates killing masses of wild animals). The evil and torturous factory farming of livestock must end. We must bring back the grasslands, populated by all its attendant wildlife PLUS herds of (humanely treated) grazing ruminants, to restore soil and ecosystem. I’m truly sorry, animals. And I thank you sincerely. But I am one of you and I deserve to eat.

The random bad:

Crazy back acne???? Idek if it’s even related but honestly it’s been CRAZY. it’s not like I’ve been working out and getting sweaty. I honestly have no fucking clue what that’s about. No uptick in facial acne...a downturn, if anything. ??????

....Regular periods. I now have periods more frequently (every 33 days as opposed to roughly every 45). The cramping doesn’t last as long, but is more intense. I did some cursory research into that, and several sources say saturated fats can increase menstrual pain, BUT it was usually attributed to inflammation from the fats, when I know I have far less inflammation in general than before. So idk.

That’s it, really? honestly feel like my body took to it like a duck to water.

**For me, “increased energy” means the ability to keep my home reasonably clean, grocery shop regularly, cook regularly, perform basic adult tasks with less dread, and not be quite as exhausted by work. I still struggle immensely with fatigue and am coming to accept that perhaps I always will. I had high hopes of socializing and exercising more (i.e. a non-zero amount) but so far that hasn’t happened. I have been able to write and paint a tiny bit more.

FINALLY, respectful questions are welcome, BUT:

im not interested in debating human carnivory or the environmental impact of livestock vs agriculture.

weight change was not my goal but I MAY consider PRIVATELY discussing that aspect on an individual basis, if anyone is curious.

#keto #food #bipolar #migraine #fatigue #eating habits #meat #periods #environmentalism #farming #agriculture #livestock

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rkkyungsoo · 5 years

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‹ red camellia. ›

group performance solo: shangri la - vixx {1:15 to 5:03} - line distribution

Five companies, five contestants in each team. Four companies were called and twenty hopefuls found their place for the semi-finals. One corner of Kyungsoo’s lips lifted in a bitter, but also knowing smile as he turned, his gaze met halfway by Suwoong’s dark eyes. Only one company team left and neither of their names were called. This means, ladies and gentlemen, that the Susoo cousin duo were selected to be in the same group. Kyungsoo wanted to be optimistic, but let’s not lie to ourselves - this was going to be the shit show of the year.

tw; anxiety, panic attack

Five minutes into the practice studio and Kyungsoo felt an incoming migraine. First of all, there were too many people in the room: the contestants and three whole coaches. Most of the contestants were excited about the coaches, with the most notable one being the youngest Eric. The kid was practically over the moon at the fact he was to be aided by his biases - the wonderful Luxe girls. Seolhyun was also supposed to be Kyungsoo’s bias from the bullshit he spewed during the audition when they asked about his music taste. He was aware he should at least try to look excited to see her, but all of the noises and contrasting smells in the room was making him want to throw himself out of the window.

Except they were not on the ground floor and he might actually break his legs. Can’t have that, can we, especially when he had to dance again! Oh joy, just when he thought his dancing days were over, fate laughed into his face and sent him straight back to hell.

Little known fact about Kyungsoo, he’s always struggled with some social anxiety. Over the years, he’d improved exponentially to the point where it no longer affected his daily lives. In the MGA so far, Kyungsoo managed to glide by social situation without too much trouble, mostly because he had fewer people to work with and viewed the judges/audience as background whenever he was on the stage. This week, however, there was no escape. With eight units of breathing homosapiens in the room, the clamminess of his hands were really setting in.

in his moment of distraction, he did not even notice that Suwoong had come up behind him and was marching him towards one of the cameras. His cousin, using both of his index fingers, was pressing against Kyungsoo’s cheeks and forming his lips manually into a smile. Bewildered, Kyungsoo initially flailed until he heard Suwoong’s voice introducing him. He imitated Suwoong during one of the interviews and now the other was unknowingly returning the favour. To be fair, Kyungsoo thought his imitation of Suwoong was better because at least he tried while Suwoong just sounded like a baby.

Once Suwoong finished his poor mimic of Kyungsoo’s voice, he peeked out from behind him and said “I am Suwoong!” in his regular cheery voice. Forming Vs with his hands, he greeted the camera once again with enthusiasm. Kyungsoo, supposing he should do more than just stand there, offered an awkward smile (this time on his own) and stiffly brought up a ‘V’ finger sign of his own.

On that very first day of practice, Kyungsoo was almost glad for Suwoong’s presence. The other knew him, at the very least, and was able to realize when all of the voices was beginning to overwhelm him when they were making the song selection. Whether or not Suwoong shushed everyone on purpose, Kyungsoo did not know (okay fine, he was pretty sure Suwoong did it for him but a part of him didn’t want to acknowledge it!), but felt a wave of gratefulness nevertheless. Perhaps, he thought innocently at that time, it wouldn’t be so bad having his cousin in the same team. Maybe they could make it work and actually behave like supportive family members instead of rivals, you know, for the first time in their entire life.

It was wishful thinking and the very next day, they had their first argument.

It was Saturday and they had all the parts divided. Suwoong took liking to one of Kyungsoo’s parts, and thought he should be the one to do it. Kyungsoo, who had been mostly silent and focused on learning the choreo, looked up from the ground with a glint of resentment in his eyes. He already had the least amount of lines among the singers and now his cousin wanted to casually rob him of another? The coaches asked Suwoong to try out the part and Kyungsoo must admit, Suwoong looked good doing the movement. His cousin was tall, slender, too pretty for a guy and did ballet. Kyungsoo was a logical person and saw no point in denying his cousin’s visual impact.

Coach Cheri told them to fight for it, to prove to everyone who deserved it more. Kyungsoo, who had been sitting at that time, stood up and gently pushed his way into the centre of the room where Suwoong and Eric were standing. “I would like to keep my part,” he said, his voice not loud but firm. He didn’t need to raise his voice, though, because the room was quiet and people were respectfully giving him the attention. Perhaps a few of them were just shocked by the fact he so readily defended himself, since he barely spoke two sentences to anyone so far.

“I’ve proven that I can embody the dark, mysterious aura from my past performances and I won’t disappoint the audience with my voice.” Why give one of the most beautiful vocal parts to the dancer, just because he was nice to look at? “Please allow me to demonstrate.” With that, he stepped up, waiting for Suwoong to move away so he could take the place that should have been his in the first place. He performed, only those few seconds, keeping his voice clear throughout the line but also making sure that last word mysterious linger.

Coach Cheri directed her gaze towards her fellow Luxe member, Ella, and the latter decided Kyungsoo should keep the line.

He exhaled with relief, not realizing he even held his breath in the first place.

From there, the rift between him and Suwoong only widened. The dance choreo wasn’t impossible, but it was challenging. There was this one set of footwork that was more difficult than the others and Kyungsoo struggled in getting it right. As he had always been his own worst critic, Kyungsoo’s frustration level was already high before he noticed Suwoong’s eyes, watching him through the mirrors.

“Let’s start again from the beginning,” his cousin said, looking away. Kyungsoo knew what that look was for - it was an accusation. A silent why can’t you keep up? Indignation rose in his chest, only to be swiftly pushed down. Kyungsoo knew he wasn’t the best dancer, but to be fair, in this practice room, he was also not the worst. if he had to judge, he would say he was right in the middle - not nearly as good as the dancers but a bit better than the other vocalists. So why was Suwoong so dead set on making him miserable?

It wasn’t like his cousin was direct. No, it was actually quite the opposite. Suwoong was subtle with his critics, and all the while still using that annoyingly sweet nickname Kyungie. To a less observant pair of eyes, Suwoong’s comments may not seem directed at Kyungsoo at all, but they’ve grown up together and he knew how Suwoong thought and what his small behaviour changes meant. From the way coach Ella narrowed her eyes, he’d say she caught on as well.

Move that foot a little, Kyungie. We are not getting it, let’s try again. It looks sloppy, we have to start from the top.

Those seemingly general, yet so very pointed comments, along with his already overflowing frustration with himself eventually built up to an explosion, and it happened on Sunday morning.

Suwoong had made another one of those comments with a barely detectable trace of genuine irritation. Kyungsoo’s fingers clenched around the handle of his fan as all of the anger that he kept pent up erupted in his chest, coating his inside with scorching hot rage. Who the hell died and made Suwoong the boss of him? Who gave him the right to keep nitpicking on him like this even though he was neither the worst dancer nor slacking. He was trying to do it right and had never used the fact he was a better singer against his cousin in anyway. How was this fair?

Kyungsoo couldn’t move, and he couldn’t speak. Anger made him tighten his grip on that fan until he felt its wooden edge pressing into his palm. It actually hurt, but not nearly enough to distract him from Suwoong’s voice. His cousin had noticed that he was no longer moving and asked for them to re-start. Kyungsoo, however, remained stationary.

“Are you not taking this seriously, Kyungie?” Suwoong actually sounded annoyed this time and that nickname of affection never sounded more artificial.

“I’ve been here since 5AM every weekend morning and am always one of the last to leave. Just because I am not yet as good as you doesn’t mean I am not trying!” There were exams coming, so much homework that he needed to take care of. Since the start of this survival show, his grades were taking a hit. Kyungsoo, who had always cared so much about his academics, opted to turn in papers late so he could work to not disappoint those watching him. Dancing, it was really fucking hard. One of the hardest things he had to learn and he had so little time to get it right. As a prideful person who needed control over every aspect of his life, just being in this room and opening himself up for criticism hurt. Sometimes Kyungsoo wanted to shout out the window what am I doing here? Wasn’t it his dream to go into business and become a rich ceo? Their family had wealth and influence, a few cards in the right pocket and he’d be rolling in cash. Business, damn, he was good at that stuff too. So why was he here, doing things he wasn’t good at and was continuing to struggle with?

It was as if somehow, while exploring a whim, he discovered a dream. Possibly the dream. And it was breaking down all of his walls and re-shaping his carefully constructed life. It felt too wonderful to walk away from, but it was also sort of killing him.

Kyungsoo threw his fan - part of its paper surface damp with perspiration - onto the ground. It landed with a soft but also ominous thud. Someone had turned off the music and the other contestants were looking at each other as they took in the severity of the situation. “You tell me if I am taking this seriously or not.” He raised his voice for the first time in...forever. He was never the type to yell, especially in public setting. This was something new, even to himself.

“Let’s have a break, please,” he said, eyes lowered. It was as if yelling took away his anger and left him only with shame. He should be better than this, should have held it in better...what was happening to him? He walked out of the practice room and no one attempted to stop him. Ten minutes of cooling down in the bathroom later, he returned to find the studio mostly empty. Apparently, Suwoong, Heejin and Eric headed out for lunch and Hyojin disappeared off to the convenience store. Kyungsoo didn’t mind and instead, found himself appreciative of the silence.

He picked up his fan from the ground and sat down, his legs too exhausted after an entire morning of practice. Seconds ticked by and the once comforting silent became grating as his outburst earlier returned to haunt him. In an effort to distract himself, Kyungsoo decided to practice some of his arm movements. One of the most difficult parts of this entire choreo was fan control, how they must ensure the fans opened fully on beat. While trying to perfect this, they broke quite a few fans already and that number was only going to increase as the days went by.

He flicked his wrist and the fan opened half way. He tried the same movement except this time harder and the prop nearly flew from his hands. Slightly frustrated, Kyungsoo took a few breaths to calm himself before attempting again. He just needed to figure out exactly how much force he needed to put into his hand and-

There were warm fingertips against his skin and he flinched in response. It was coach Ella, who must have sneaked upon him while he was focused on his fan work. She seemed unfazed by his response and tried once again to help him manoeuvring the fan, telling him about how to position his hand to make things easier. Eventually, they got off of the floor and she started helping him with his other dance parts. Ella was surprisingly patient as he explained what he wanted to achieve - as dance wasn’t his best skill, Kyungsoo was less focused on giving extra flair and more concerned about doing his part perfectly, paying attention to every detail. So the woman gave him advice on how he should stretch out his hand out, point his fingers and not clench his fingers into fists to give that extension. She also coached him on a turn he has to do near the middle of the song, how he should use his long sleeves to his advantage to make himself look longer and more graceful.

They talked about his outburst and while she did reprimand him on the lack of professionalism associated with throwing down his fan, the idol also showed some sympathy with his situation. Upon learning that Suwoong was his cousin, she even shared about her own MGA experience with her family. Their conversation eased away some of Kyungsoo’s discomfort and as they worked, Ella even took a hold of his hands at some point to show him how it should be done properly. Up close, he must admit that she really was an attractive woman. A faint blush eventually swept across his features. Oh, how the Luxe fanboys must be screaming with envy right now.

His smile, though small, became genuine as he tapped into the flow of the dance after the tutorial session. When Hyojin returned to the studio and saw his relaxed expression, the other contestant was decidedly relieved and ran to his side like a happy doggo. Kyungsoo took the sandwich Hyojin bought for the two of them at the local convenience store and petted the other male gently on the shoulder with a ‘thank you’. Hyojin attempted to sooth him and tried to convince him to play nice with Suwoong, to which Kyungsoo responded with a nod.

His mood was improved for the rest of the Sunday afternoon, but the anger returned during his car ride with Suwoong. His cousin decided to call him insufferable and Kyungsoo fired straight back. He ended up having to pull over at the side walk and the two of them really let each other have it. The conversation ended with Suwoong ditching the car and walking out into the night. Kyungsoo, though still livid, recalled the fact his cousin was a dumbass used to being driven around. “Where the hell are you going?” He demanded, rolling down the window and driving along Suwoong, who was stomping away dramatically. “To the trains!” His cousin responded, to which Kyungsoo could only offer some serious eye rolling because the other was going in the wrong direction.

Somehow, this actually eased the tension between them. From their conversation, Kyungsoo had at least gather that Suwoong was more comfortable criticizing him because he was family and at the end of the day, they’d never be able to hate each other. “Get back in the car,” he called out with some gentle reluctance. Suwoong tried to give him the ‘hmph’ at first, but as soon as Kyungsoo actually turned the car around, he hopped straight in. Kyungsoo hated to admit this, but even though his cousin was super annoying, high maintenance and picky, he was also kind of cute.

The two of them made up Sunday night and Suwoong came up with some reputation repairing ideas. They grabbed coffee and doughnuts to bring for the Monday practice and offered their apology to the group. Funny thing was neither he nor Suwoong enjoyed doughnuts but it felt like the right thing to bring. Hyojin sensed this was a good opportunity for a heart-to-heart and everyone made a circle. He talked about the tension, even going back to last week and expressing how he felt about Taeyang being eliminated instead of him. Hyojin was open and honest in a way Kyungsoo would likely never be but those admirable traits likely contributed to his later success collaborating with Eric. It really seemed like the two were working out their differences, just like he did with Suwoong. After that, they were back to practice, full speed ahead.

On Wednesday night, the contestants provided the three coaches each a fan with some written comments and their signatures. It was a cute gift idea. Kyungsoo struggled to find the right words so instead, he just wrote ‘thanks for everything’ along with a little drawing of a camellia flower, which he shall represent on the stage. He had always been a man of fewer words, this was his best effort but hopefully the coaches would understand. They all helped him a lot - Cheri with the vocals, Ella with the dance and Won with his hair. Yes, hair was part of the performance and Kyungsoo wanted his hair to be bouncy and soft so it would react appropriately to the natural wind effect generated by their fans. Coach Won, bless him, sent him a picture of his shampoo bottle straight from his own shower upon Kyungsoo’s request.

The performance day came and the stage was more beautiful than ever. Dressed in their long, traditional robes and equipped with a fan, the group introduced themselves as Youths over Flowers. Each of them introduced themselves then with their real name and their flower representation. Kyungsoo chose for himself Camellia, because one of his lines mentioned a red camellia and he took quite a liking to the vivid imagery it created. “I am Do Kyungsoo, Camellia of Youths over Flowers. Camellia flowers symbolize faithfulness and I promise to always be loyal to my audience. Thank you, I love you.” Ahh, he said it and it was every bit as embarrassing as he expected. Thankfully, Kyungsoo had a fan to hide behind after he delivered the shameful mini speech. His fan, same colour as everyone else, had a camellia flower drawn on it. The same flower was sewn into the bottom of his robe with silver thread by a skilled seamstress they were able to find.

As everyone finished the introductions, ending with Suwoong’s cringy fest, it was finally time to get into position. They hauled Suwoong back towards the centre of the stage, so he could stop talking about how he intended to take everyone’s breath away. Once they were in their starting positions, however, all signs of fun and games were wiped from their expressions. This was semi-finals and they had a show to put on. Kyungsoo had a feeling, that despite their struggles this week, they were going to give the audience a performance they’ll remember for a long time.

Music started and a thin layer of fog covered the surface of the stage. The lights were dimmed, a soft red that was almost romantic. They moved as one, extending their arms and flicking their fans. There was a satisfying sound as their fans collectively turned into half moons, perfectly on beat. It was a seemingly simple movement that took an insane amount of practice to ensure synchronization.

Kyungsoo will admit, when he first realized they’ll be dancing with fans, he thought of geisha dancers and that idea made him slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t like he did not appreciate the beautiful geisha or looked down upon their career, but it wasn’t a character he could fully embrace. So, he allowed his memories to roll back, recalling a story he once heard about a tyrant king. To dethrone the king and end his reign of terror, a group of skilled assassins were recruited. Knowing the king’s paranoid nature, they disguised themselves as dancers and put on an entrancing performance. Their beauty illuminated the night and the king was so seduced that he did not realize his life was in danger until the dagger was buried deep into his chest.

They hid their faces behind the fans and Kyungsoo did not know what imagery his teammates summoned for characterization but when he pulled back his fan to reveal his eyes, he was out to kill, just...in the sexiest way possible. Rolling onto one knee, Kyungsoo listened to Hyojin as he calmly opened up their song. Suwoong was the next to take centre as the rest of them dropped. Heejin appeared after, her voice clear and sweet, giving perfect entrance for their first and very brief rap part. After that, Kyungsoo got his first chance to be heard. They got into a line with Kyungsoo in front, he swished his fan as he sang, making his movements fluid and dramatic as his teammates did the same with theirs behind him.

낮과 밤이 전부 너야 빈틈 없이 꽉 채워

Eric joined him at the end of that line, boosting the vocal with a brief snippet of rap.

The next part of choreo had more difficult footwork, so Kyungsoo and Suwoong switched their parts from the original song and put Suwoong in the front so he could shine as a dancer.

His next part came when they formed a straight line across the stage. Kyungsoo turned to face the audience, gently tossing the right corner of his robe as he moved so the fabric swayed in the air.

밤의 안부에 널 닮은 붉은 동백이질투해

The fan, which had been pointed upwards in the air, became a half moon with a single flick of his wrist as it was brought, after a few swirls, to the front of his face. Kyungsoo smiled, but there was no moment to linger as they collectively turned with the exception of Suwoong, who moved towards the centre of the stage from the right, only to give it to Eric as the rap part came. Kyungsoo must say he was very impressed with Eric. They had perhaps only one or two rap lines in this song but were mostly singers or dancers. If their 15-years-old powerhouse didn’t step up, perhaps they would have to crop the parts out and miss out on that beautiful rap-singing contrast. Kyungsoo thought the kid did very well.

As soon as Eric’s part finished, Kyungsoo’s began:

일렁이는 내 맘도 낮과 밤이 전부 너야

This was the part where he had to raise his arms and spin. He practised this with Ella specifically, remember her tips on extending his arms and using the loose fabric of his sleeves to add to the illusion of height. This part was...slightly feminine, but they were at the point of go big or go home, and Kyungsoo practised this part too many times to still feel embarrassed about sliding a hand almost sensually down the side of his face and neck.

The chorus came once again and same as before, Kyungsoo switched places with Suwoong so his cousin could dance closer to the front of the stage. Hyojin started the chorus and Heejin finished it, giving Suwoong his time to show his vocal capabilities (which had vastly improved over the week) as they took the choreo to the floor. Hyojin went into the centre, raised his hand and sang with passion, which was Kyungsoo’s cue to get back into the centre, where he sang his lines and rested his head against Eric’s shoulder. The fluid movement almost reminded pleasantly him of his dance performance with Hyunggu a while ago.

신비로워 아름답고 따뜻했고

This was the part he fought for and he intended to make the most out of it, especially the half a second of pause he and Eric get at the end of their partially joined line. Kyungsoo looked towards the audience - the actual live audience, full of anticipation. He raised a brow as a corner of his lips tilted in a teasing smile. It was an expression that hopefully said you have no idea what’s coming.

Because they didn’t.

The stage suddenly became darker and the great wafts of fog which had disappeared after their song intro returned with vengeance. The light was blue instead of red, almost giving that day turned to night vibe as they danced. Kyungsoo and Suwoong switched places seamlessly, using the dim lighting to their advantage. Some of them jumped while others still did the full spin and gave the illusion of a jump. Their robes flowed and it was as if Youths Over Flowers were turning into fans themselves in the mysterious indigo light. They brought their hands to their lips, gave a light shh as if warning their potentially shocked audience to hold back those gasps because it wasn’t over.

The dance break itself wasn’t exactly technical, but it was very eye catching.

When the blue light faded and the stage was bright again, Heejin’s high note pierced through the air and each of the singers got a line before the song came to an end.

단 하나 너만 알아 찾아 헤맨 그곳 바로 너야

They posed, again as one to the beat of the final few notes. Then, before the stage darkened, they turned around and once more, flicked their fans out in perfect synchronization. That sound of fans opening, very similar to the one the audience would have heard in the beginning of the song, marked the end of their performance.

They thanked the judges and the live audience. Kyungsoo reached behind his back and tugged discreetly on Suwoong’s sleeve. “Good job,” he mouthed. That was his favourite stage to date and he felt, at least, that it was worth all of his efforts.

@rksuwoong, @ericxrk, @hyojinrk, @rkheejin, @rkwon, @rkcheri & @rkella

#wc: 4437 #RKMGA5 #RKMGA5GROUPS #tw; anxiety #tw; panic attack

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trustmeimadoctor · 5 years

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I came across my suicide note from back in August when I overdosed

I'm sick. I've been sick for a while. It isn't fair to expect me to keep going on like this.

It isn't anything anyone said or did. It wasn't the years of physical, mental or sexual abuse. It wasn't almost being murdered by a so called friend. It's that I can't take being sick anymore. And failing at taking care of myself because I don't know how. Not being able to exercise because my skin makes it too painful. It's being ignored or not being taken seriously enough by doctors. I can't stand feeling like I'm on drugs every day. I can't stand not being able to think clearly anymore. The daily migraines. I can't stand being tired all the time and needing to take several naps a day. I can't stand feeling like I'm dying. I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE. So I won't.

That is the reason.

And here is what has been happening:

I've been having dreams for the past few weeks or so (can't really recall when it exactly started) telling me that I need to kill myself. That my next life will be better. That the in between place is waiting for me. It's dark and safe there. I want to go back. It's been such a long time since I've been there. I miss it.

I believe I've been seeing reapers or a reaper. It follows me. I thought it was something that was just in our apartment but it's been following me when I'm out as well. I don't feel fear when he's around. He startles me sometimes but I'm not afraid of him. I think he's waiting to help me cross over. He knows my time is up.

I also keep seeing signs everywhere that I should end it. That things will be better. Every day these things have been happening. How can I ignore this?

I can't be the only adult in a household. I'm just not able to take care of things or myself. I'm too fucking retarded. That's not me putting myself down I'm just being a realist. I'm too autistic. But no adult in their right mind would willingly live with someone with tourette syndrome as bad as mine. I get that. It's no one's fault. That's life.

Thank you to everyone who's ever been nice to me. Everyone who's ever tried to cheer me up when I was down. Everyone who acted like they ever gave a shit about me. If you've ever just hung out with me... You people are the reason that this life is hard to let go of. You people are the reason that I didn't end my suffering years ago. Thank you so much for the memories. I'll try to bring them with me.

I miss my friends and family so much. I always had hope that one day we would be able to reconnect or start hanging out on a regular basis. But maybe we'll meet again in another time, place, reality.

I'm so sorry to Gage. His life is going to be the most altered by this. But honestly, I see no other way out of this. He is better off without me around in this condition. So much better off. I'm gonna miss him and Jr so much. I already have been missing my little brother so much. The times the three of us were together were the best times of my life. My favorite people in the world are those two kids. Playing video games together, doing madlibs and going for night walks. I miss our night walks so much. The memory of those will probably haunt my dreams in my next life.

Cremate my remains, please. I believe I will get stuck here if that doesn't happen. Just... please. I don't want to be buried. I don't want that diseased vessel to exist after I'm gone. I want it completely destroyed.

I want to be back with Dante and Henry. I miss them so much. Even though they are parts of me, I much prefer when we could communicate with each other. Hopefully, I get them back either in the next life or at least see them in the in between place before we get reborn. Even if that means the others come too, I'm okay with that. They weren't that bad. Even the static. If it meant Henry and Dante were with me I know I could handle it. I wonder if I'll get to see the blue lady again. The one that followed me around from the time I was a small child until I was about 20 years old. She watched over me and kept me safe at night. I was such a scared kid and I'm sure that's why she existed. I always felt completely safe when she was around. Or my "imaginary friend" that I had when I was really young, Nobody. Get it? Because he didn't have a physical body. That's how I remember him introducing himself anyway. Something like, "Hi, my name is Nobody. Get it? Because I have no BODY." He was funny. Not sure if he was real or not. I was too young to remember and he left before I was old enough to really ponder it. Now that I think about it him and Henry were very similar. Anyway, I miss them too.

I just don't want to be sick in the next life. Please, no more physical sickness. And I don't want to be transgender either! It's disgusting and people don't respect you. I fucking hate it! I want to be reborn biologically male.

I've already picked my parents. That's how that works... Right? Ha... Anyway, they are happy and healthy. They already have one child and seem like really good parents.

Pray for me, please.

#suicide note #mental health #mental illness #reincarnation #goodbye #fragmented personality #fragments #frags #Dante #Henry #overdose #failed overdose #failed suicide attempt

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justanothersadgirl95-blog · 5 years

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Medical marijuana advocacy

First Tumblr post!

I created this account so I can voice what I need to without the inevitable backlash from family and peers.

Weed is a strange subject right now. It's sort of legal, but sort of not. Sort of criminal, maybe kind of decriminalized. It's still taboo even though a huge number of people use it. It's still frowned upon by mother's (mine haha), employers, law enforcement.

Hi, I'm Alex and I'm a pot head. I first smoked weed out of a tobacco pipe on a highway overpass, on a hot summer evening when I was supposed to be at a church fair down the street, when I was approximately 14 years old and the rest is history. Now I am a 24 year old functioning member of society. I'm a wife and mom of two incredible and intelligent kids. I go to work when I'm supposed to (mostly), I pay my bills and my taxes and I (sort of) uphold traffic laws.

I also smoke cannabis whenever I am conscious. I doubt that anyone knows the difference between sober and stoned me anymore. I enjoy it. I use it as a crutch for my clinical and sometimes debilitating depression. I use it when I get headaches or migraines, a stomach bug, unnecessary family drama, tired, awake, hard day at work, celebrating, you name it.

At the end of the day, I do not care what the laws are. I should but I don't. In my state, medical marijuana is legal, recreational is illegal, but has been decriminalized so I think all you will get is a fine if caught with it. I advocate for medical marijuana to be fully accessable as needed for many ailments, mainly centered towards cancer patients.

A few weeks ago I sat in a waiting room after a follow up appointment with my oncologist. I'm still clear, in case you are wondering. I sat there with my husband staring at a TV screen with a health information slide show playing. Eventually it came to a slide concerning nausea after treatment. And all the "suggestions" were Bull. Shit. Different foods to try, exercise, medication. I lol'd. Because let me tell you guys, after a few hours of sitting in a chair with an IV in your chest receiving chemotherapy nicknamed "red death" (due to its bright red color before injection, when you pee it out, and simply because the side effects SUCK,) you don't want to eat, you cannot exercise, and you've already pumped every kind of pharmaceutical into your body desperately trying to relieve the sickness.

When I was 18 years old, freshly graduated from high school with a 6 month old on my hip, I was diagnosed with cancer. My mom was super proactive and got the ball rolling immediately. Just the year before, I saw my father die from cancer. I thought I had some preparation for how I'd feel after treatment. I was wrong.

The first treatment, I cried when they inserted the giant needle into the medi port in my chest. More because I was scared than because of pain. They told me I probably wouldn't feel any side effects until the next day so I finished the treatment a little dazed, but continued on to the grocery store with my mom. We tried to buy food for when I got hungry. I started feeling the weight of the world on me. A feeling I can only describe as poison taking over your body. Nausea. Oh the nausea. I went home and slept for two to three days. Only opening my eyes for water and medication. It. Was. Torture. Id never felt so bad in my life. I never imagined feeling so bad. Ever. And when I finally woke up, I looked my mom in the eyes and told her I couldn't do this. So told me I had to.

So off to the next treatment I went two weeks later (every other week.) This time we added additional nausea medications to my IV before treatment. Same results. I was asleep for a few days. When I finally woke up, my husband (fiance at the time) suggested we go search for food I'd be able to stomach. We drove off, he pulled out a blunt for me to smoke, I was scared to try it, feeling as awful as I did. But then the nausea started to lessen. I wasn't in such a "brain fog". I. Was. Hungry. AND I was able to eat and keep down just about anything I wanted. I was amazed. I was thankful. I was going to get through this.

So the next appointment, my husband took me. He held my hand during treatment, packed me into the car afterwards, drove off and again, handed me a blunt. And again, I felt okay. I felt.. definitely better since the last round. After that, I smoked weed as needed. Which was frequently. The chemo was Hell. But instead of being in a coma for three days, then days of sickness afterwards just trying to recover, I would bunker down for two to three days, use the pot as needed and THEN I WAS ABLE TO GO ABOUT MY LIFE FOR THE NEXT WEEK AND A HALF UNTIL THE NEXT TREATMENT. I mean, holy shit. It was like night and day, the difference cannabis made during all of that.

This stuff is the reason I made it. This stuff is the reason I was able to function like I did. I was able to be a mom and a daughter and a partner. I was able to live.

And then I realized that this shit, weed, ganja, pot, cannabis, MJ, the devil's lettuce, is not available to every cancer patient out there. There are still states where this is illegal.

Wait until you read what I am about to type next.

Because of lack of education and the unfortunate stigma against marijuana use, people who really need this shit, people going through chemotherapy, do not have regular and full access it. Everywhere.

It's insane really. Something so simple, easily grown, can make such a difference. THIS is what should be playing on the slide shows in the cancer centers. This is what we should be educating our family and friends on when they get sick. This, marijuana, is hope when there doesn't seem to be any.

Be open minded. Educate yourself. Pass it along. You never know who it could help.

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our-smooty · 6 years

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Take Me to Church Chapter 23: Forward

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: 2doc

Tags: Car Accidents Angst Hurt/Comfort Drugs/Alcohol Implied/Referenced Suicide SuicideHealing Everything Hurts

Summary: The band is back together, but things are… weird to say the least. But when a crisis arises, can they pull it all together and be a family again?

Link to other Chapters on my Blog!

The First Session - Stuart

“And what are your goals for therapy?”

So far, this session with his new therapist was going well. It wasn’t much different from sessions he’d had in the past, she’d asked him for some information, he’d told her about his past, and now they were talking about goals. Only 2D hadn’t really thought about why he was going to therapy, aside from encouraging Murdoc to go.

“I uh, I don’t really know,” he admitted, biting a nail. “ I was mostly jus’ comin’ because Murdoc said he would.”

She added a note to her file. “OK. Well, is there anything you’d like to work on?”

Stu thought for a little while, before remembering the incident in the kitchen. “I get scared, sometimes. About Murdoc, but also other things.”

“Hmm, I understand. You feel that in certain situations, you’re more afraid than you should be?”

“Y-yeah! Even when I know I’m safe I jus’...” he trailed off with a shrug. Since the time in the kitchen, he’d been noticing other little reactions that didn’t always make sense. One time Murdoc laughed loudly at something on the TV, and he immediately tensed up, afraid. Another time, Russel had dropped a cup and the smashing glass nearly frightened Stu to tears.

“Alright, is there anything else?” 2D thought back again, but couldn’t really put his finger on a specific thing.

“I don’t think so. I mean, I can’t think of anything.”

She made a few more notes, then closed her book, smiling. “Well, that sounds like a good place to start then!” They talked for a few more minutes about things before time was up. 2D left feeling relatively relaxed and a little bit hopeful.

It wasn’t a very long drive home, and within an hour he was stepping through the front door of Wobble Street. He was greeted by Katsu, who wound his way between his legs, purring loudly.

“‘Ello little buddy,” he cooed, leaning down to scritch behind the cat’s ears. When he straightened up again he saw Murdoc at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the wall. “Hello to you too, Muds.”

“Hey there, Bluebird,” the bassist drawled. He was wearing trackies and a tight-fitting t-shirt, his hair still mussed from sleep. The corner of his lip twitched like he was suppressing a smile. 2D didn’t bother hiding his, beaming at the other as he walked forward to wrap his arms around him.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” the singer teased, letting one of his hand's fiddle with the ends of Murdoc’s hair. The bassist did smile at that, craning his head up to mouth at Stu’s neck and jaw.

“Very happy,” he growled before beginning to suck a hickey into the taller’s neck. 2D gasped, then groaned as Murdoc worked, giving himself over completely to the older’s whims.

“M-Murdoc!” Now the bassist had a hand at the front of Stu’s pants, kneading at the burgeoning hardness there. 2D really, really hoped Russel wasn’t home.

“Shall we take this upstairs?” 2D nodded fervently, letting Murdoc turn and pull him up the stairs. He felt a little bit like a teenager again, silly and randy without a care. It was nice, to let loose like that sometimes.

Murdoc’s room was closest. The door was only just closing behind them as Murdoc sank to his knees, expertly unbuttoning Stu’s jeans and nuzzling against his crotch.

“S-shit Muds! G-gimmie a warning next t-time!” he squeaked. Murdoc chuckled lowly, moving to mouth at the singer’s cock through his briefs. 2D made eye contact with him and moaned.

“Woke up and you weren’t here,” Murdoc murmured, working Stu’s jeans and pants down and over his feet. “Wanted to feel you so bad, I couldn’t help myself.”

The singer hissed as Murdoc took him into his mouth, devilish tongue squirming around the tip. To anchor himself he threaded his fingers through Murdoc’s dark hair, knowing the bassist wouldn’t mind. As expected, the slight tugging made Murdoc whine, his eyes slipping shut in bliss.

Between the hot suction and the lewd noises Murdoc was making, 2D was a groaning, shaking mess in no time. He started thrusting his hips a little, and to his delight Murdoc immediately gave up control, letting the singer set the pace.

“So good--oh God M-Mudoc You're making me cu--!” White-hot pleasure burst from his core, forcing a shout from his lips. Murdoc took it all with a moan, the vibrations making everyone so much sweeter. By the time he stopped shaking and had the brainpower to look down, Murdoc was gasping through his own orgasm, hand in his pants and face pressed into Stu’s thigh.

“Holy hell,” he laughed, running his hands through Murdoc’s hair fondly. The bassist echoed the laugh with his own, slightly out of breath but no less pleased. They rested there against the door for a while as they both caught their breath, the space between them warm and close.

The Second Session - Stuart

He was late for his second session. The night before he’d been having trouble sleeping, so he’d taken some of his sleeping pills and then slept through the alarm and Murdoc’s inquiries. Then he’d been groggy and disoriented through the whole morning, not to mention his head had been hurting more than usual. Since he’d run out of headache pills earlier in the week, and finally realized how much of a dependence he had on them, he’d been trying to take less but it was so hard.

By the time he got into the therapist’s office, he was 15 minutes late and nearly in tears from the stress. He walked in and immediately sat down with his knees drawn up and fingers tapping away on his knees. She didn’t seem surprised by his state and waited for him to say something.

“So I--” he started, before stopping again to think. What was he going to say? “I-I don’t--”

“Would you like a glass of water?” she asked. When he nodded she got up and went to the water cooler, handing him a paper cup filled with cool water. He drank, letting the chilly liquid calm him down. When he was done his breathing was more regular, and his shakes had stopped.

“Thanks,” he said, crushing the cup in his hands. “It’s been a rough mornin’.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Well,” he began ripping the paper cup into little bits, “I couldn’t sleep las’ night so I took some pills, and then I slep’ through my alarm. And my head was killin’ me, but I don’t wanna take my headache pills because I know I’ve been takin’ too many.” It all came out in a rush, like each word crawling over the next.

“You haven’t been taking your migraine medication at all?”

“Not really, unless it got so bad I couldn’t do nothing,” he answered, shrugging. Her eyebrows pinched together in concern. He’d had two headaches this week that had been so bad he couldn’t get up or move, and only then did he let Murdoc or Russel feed him his medication.

“Stuart, it’s dangerous to quite any medication so suddenly, especially if you’ve become addicted.” He looked down at his shoes, still shredding the cup.

“I-I didn’t think it was gonna be this bad,” he admitted quietly. Each time he’d gone without his pills he’d been knocked on his arse by chills, nausea, and pain until Murdoc or Russel stepped in. “I didn’t notice I-I was takin’ so many.”

“It would be much safer to taper down to an appropriate dose,” she suggested. He knew that too, but...

“I dunno if I can do that myself… and I don’t really wanna give all my pills to Muds.” The memory of Murdoc’s most recent overdose was still too fresh.

“What about Russel? I’m sure he’d be happy to help you.”

“I don’t really wanna bug him though..” he trailed off. 2D knew that if he asked Russel wouldn’t mind, but he was still worried about annoying him. Russel had so much going on with his own life, was it really fair to ask him to help even more?

“Why don’t you ask him, and then if he says no we’ll figure out what to do from there?” He nodded in hesitant agreement, mostly because he didn't see any other way. “How was your week, otherwise?”

2D thought back. “Alrigh’ I guess. We visited Noodle again, though Murdoc stayed home. He, uh, he seemed pretty worked up after his first visit here but he was mostly alrigh’.”

“That’s good to hear. How is Noodle doing, and how are you doing since she’s been in the hospital?”

They talked a little back and forth, Stu sharing a couple of things, his therapist making suggestions here or there for ways he could do things differently. They talked a lot about Murdoc, and how their relationship was going. When the session came to an end he was feeling pretty relaxed, if not a little worn out from his headache, and he was glad when she finally closed her notebook and walked him out.

“Stu I’d like you to try keeping a journal. You can write whatever you like in it, but I think it may be helpful for you to be able to look back on your feelings from time to time.” He shrugged and agreed. He already had a music journal, maybe he could just use that.

Outside he sat on the curb and pulled out his phone. Since he hadn’t been feeling so good Murdoc had offered to drive him, which was a miracle in itself. The bassist had been on his best behaviour, following the speed-signs and stopping at every stop sign. For Murdoc it was nearly an unheard of amount of courtesy, and 2D made a mental note to thanks him. Then he made a physical note in his phone, knowing that if left to its own devices his brain would almost certainly throw out that bit of information.

He sent a quick text to the bassist to let him know he was done, then lit a fag. A slightly more intense twinge behind his eyes made him wince. He didn’t want to have to ask Russel to manage his medication on top of everything the drummer was already doing. Russ had enough on his plate with Noodle and Murdoc to worry about without Stu adding himself to the pile.

But he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking too many pills when the pain got bad. And from there it was a slippery slope to taking them when it was a little bad, then to taking them when he was feelin’ upset. He knew that if left to himself he’d go right back to popping his medication at any chance he got. So he’d have to ask the drummer for help.

Murdoc pulled up to the front of the building and honked the horn twice, jolting Stu out of his thoughts and making his head throb. He’d been to caught up in thought to notice the little headache he’d had was turning into a much larger problem. Crushing his smoke under his shoe, he ambled around to the passenger side, getting in. Murdoc shot him a questioning look at the way he curled forward in his seat.

“You ok there Stu?” he asked, keeping the car in park. 2D shook his head no and blindly reached to the dashboard, searching for the pills he knew Murdoc kept there. The bassist caught on quickly, finding the bottle and tossing a few into his hand and holding it out. The feeling of pills sliding down his throat dry was a familiar one.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, curling forward even more. The headache he’d had in the office was slowly turning into another migraine. It would take a while for the pills to kick in, and those weren’t going to address his nausea. The pills he usually took for that were back at home, but the idea of the car moving was enough to set his stomach rolling.

“Is it a bad one?” Stu grunted a yes. It was too bright out, and he pressed his palms into his eyes until all the light was blocked out. After a few seconds, he felt the car shut off, and heard Murdoc unlock his seat belt, followed by the feeling of cold hands against his scalp. It felt so good.

“Here, take my jacket and put it over your head,” Murdoc said, handing the leather over. “At least until those pills kick in." It wasn’t completely dark under the coat, but it was better than nothing. Murdoc kept his hands stroking through 2D’s hair and gently massaging the tight muscles in his neck. The jacket smelled like Murdoc, and Stu tried to focus on that as he let the pills dow their job.

Within an hour the medication kicked in and 2D felt safe buckling himself in for the ride home. Murdoc gave him a gentle half-smile and made sure to take the least bumpy paths. Stu watched the world outside his window go by in a medicated haze, feeling like he hadn’t really made any progress. Maybe after he asked Russel for help he’d feel better? It was worth a try.

The Third Session - Stuart

“You’ve mentioned Plastic Beach a few times since we first met. Could you tell me a little more about it?” Fuck. She knew, she had to. He’d tried to be sneaky about avoiding the topic, mentioning it here and there in passing, but she’d still picked up on his reluctance.

“I-I don’t know what you want me t’say,” he answered, looking away. He’d never been very good at lying. He already felt the word vomit creeping up his throat. “I-it was pretty b-bad, but i-it’s over. I’m o-over it.”

“What made it so bad?” his therapist asked, making a few notes. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He really didn’t want to talk about Plastic beach now; he wasn’t ready. He hadn’t prepared, he--

“M-Murdoc,” he stuttered out without meaning to. But once he’d started, it was difficult to stop. “H-he was h-horrible t’me, the w-whole time. H-he hurt me. A lot.”

Stu was breathing heavy now, the familiar prick of tears stinging his eyes. “A-and I know he w-wasn’t right then. H-he was sick. B-but…”

She was watching him now, he knew. It was pretty obvious she had some idea of how bad Plastic Beach had been, either from Murdoc or through the internet. “But I--I still t-think about it. I-I have dreams.”

“Does Murdoc still hurt you now?” she asked, voice a tiny bit harder than normal. He could see the relief on her face when he answered.

“N-no. He hasn’t since we came back, except for in one of our videos. B-but that was fake…” the hit with the shoe had still hurt a little, though not as much as it could have for sure.

“Have you talked to Murdoc about it?”

2D didn’t want to answer, because he knew that she’d tell him he should talk about it. Everyone was always pushing him to talk about it, to get over it, but he wasn’t ready--

“It’s OK, if you aren’t ready to yet,” she said instead. He snapped his head up to look at her and only then noticed he was crying.

“I-I,” Stu croaked. His throat wasn’t working, he wanted to talk about it so bad but he couldn’t yet. “It s-still hurts. I can’t y-yet.”

She nodded and handed him a box of tissues. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to, Stuart. You’re the one who sets the limits.” It felt good to be told he didn’t have to be ok, that he didn’t have to be open and willing to talk about what were frankly the worst months of his life. “You are an adult, and if you trust Murdoc now to not do what he did then, that’s your choice.”

“T-thanks.” He blew his nose and sniffed a little, smiling just a bit. “I know I-I need to talk about it eventually, b-but… Not now.”

“Do you have anything else you want to talk about today?”

Later that night, long after he’d gotten home and crawled into his bed, Murdoc tiptoed through his door. Normally they spent most of the day together, but after the session he’d had, well he needed some time alone. It honestly surprised him that the bassist hadn’t come in before, knowing how Murdoc didn’t always respect personal space very well.

“You awake, D?” the bassist whispered into the dark space. 2D thought about not answering and continuing to wallow.

“...Yeah.”

He could hear Murdoc’s quiet breathing and the sound of bare feet against carpet. “Can I come in?”

The promise of warmth and comfort was enough to draw him out of the covers. “..Yeah.”

Murdoc closed the door and slid under the covers, right behind Stu. How could that warmth be both everything he needed and everything he didn’t want at the same time?

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

If Murdoc was surprised by his refusal, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gently slid an arm around the singer’s waist and pulled him close. “OK, Bluebird. OK. Why don’t I tell you what Russel and I got up to today instead?”

“OK,” Stu sighed, happy to listen to the other prattle on about whatever if it meant they could stay the way they were. He felt comfortable, and secure, and maybe a little bit hopeful. But he was also kind of sad, and a little bit angry. Maybe that was part of it, part of getting better.

#takemetochurchfic #2doc #murdoc niccals #Stuart Pot #tw suicide #tw violence #tw car accident #tw DRUGS AND ALCOHOL #tw hospital

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theinvisiblemonsters · 6 years

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tagged by the eldritch horror that is kat ( @theotokosi ) whom i love very much. i am in the trenches of a week long migraine and i kept deleting this bc i hated how it sounded but i’m at a fuck it stage! so let’s do this!

1. your first real fandom, including OTP: if we’re just talking the first thing i can remember being a fan of, it would be The Tenth Kingdom miniseries. i remember waiting for new episodes every week and buying the vhs boxset after and just. sitting on the floor and reading the box over and over. i didn’t have an OTP because i literally could care less about that kinda thing, but i do remember being baby Julie being very “??? no???” when the show endgamed Virginia and Wolfie.

but i guess the first thing that i was REALLY into, enough to want to interact with other people who enjoyed it, would be Supernatural. that didn’t last very long but i dabbled in rping it and quickly lost interest.

2. current main fandom, including OTP: i am very boring and do not interact with any fandoms, but i guess if there’s any media i am Ride Or Die for, it’s anything my friend Sara writes / does / any of her characters? i love her very much and everything she creates is very interesting and dynamic.

and also my own OC’s / stories because listen. i’ve realized i have no interest in being humble or not embarrassing myself by being self-involved. i keep my OC’s in such a limited space and i’ve come to realize that if i don’t love them openly and loudly then no one will, and they’re worth looking like a fool muttering to myself in a ditch, regardless of if anybody else is listening to me. they’re all very interesting and there’s so much i love about each and every one of them! the one pairing in that that i can say i have a lot of attachment to their relationship is Leonois diu Lyonesse x Othneil Kingsley. they’re #relationshipgoals and i will gladly talk all day about them.

3. the personality trait you like most about yourself: I’ve always loved how resilient i am. this bitch doesn’t know how to just give up! i have wanted to just lay down and die so many times in so many ways and yet i still keep crawling. i never leave, i never stop; i let things get to me and i stay vulnerable, and when shit happens, i bandage the wound and keep going. and if i die trying, then i’ll crawl out of the grave! i’ve done it before, i’ll do it again! and i try my best to drag people along with me when they need it, too.

4. if you could be any mythological creature what would you pick and why: siren, because i’m fairly certain i am one already because man, i don’t know how else to describe the shit a few people have put me through. BUT i love the sea, i love merfae, i love drowning and then eating the patriarchy. it’s a perfect match.

5. be able to talk to animals but not understand them, or be able to understand them and not talk back; why: i am of the school that knows with 100% certainty that most social, domesticated animals have a full understanding of whatever language they were raised with. we already can talk to animals. the problem is that they don’t possess the ability to use human language, but they have their own and if you just fucking listen to them and take the time to learn their language and use basic empathic skills, you can understand them perfectly. you don’t gotta choose! you can have your cake and eat it too!

6. early bird or night owl: night owl, without a doubt. my circadian rhythm just fucking hates working correctly, i guess, but i also just genuinely enjoy the way nighttime feels. i enjoy it being dark, i enjoy the way the air feels at night, and i enjoy having the early morning be considered the end of my day.

7. the weirdest fanfic you ever read: i've never really read fanfic, but way back in the Ye Olden Days i used to be a regular on Quizilla, so i’ve still accidentally seen my fair share of bullshit. i remember very little of it, luckily. i have vague memories of a MCR GerardxMikey HS au incest mpreg fic, which is honestly pretty tame all things considered. i also remember that at the time i did not know the name of the MCR bandmembers so i just read it like it was a very bad, very weird short story.

8. your FAVORITE fanfic: probably Great Mouse Detective

9. favorite superhero movie: UH fuck these questions are really not made for me. i guess Deadpool 2? the way they just *kisses* made the fat brown kid a full and empathetic character. luv that. i would die for ryan renolds.

10. what do you think the meaning of life/our reason for being here is: there is none, my dude. and that’s fine. life is what you live and that’s gonna happen either way. there doesn’t have to be a reason for any of it. we’re just here, and that’s nice.

11. what does being a good person mean to you: trying your best to help make things even just a little easier for everyone else, being mindful of how you impact those around you, and causing as little pain as possible.

i tag @thortisgodofthundpurr, @ghoulhotline, @ufocafe, @thegirlwithgoldeyes, and anyone else who’d like the distraction!

#about me #about meme

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shewhowantsmouseears · 6 years

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Welcome to Spookyville! Chapter 3

Notes: As always, big thanks to my editors Drucilla and BlueShifted, both of which were rather creeped out by this chapter. I feel so proud.

Not much to say this time around, but I feel I do need to assure you that just because I put a character through hell, it doesn't mean I don't love them. If anything, it shows how much I love them! (Which is why it's probably a godsend to the rest of the world that I don't date.)

The song featured is from a classic Donald cartoon!

Summary: When Minnie learns that Mickey's secretary has a crush, she decides to become Minnie the MatchMaker! How could it possibly go wr-ALL THE WAYS.

The next tale in our absurd collection takes place after one of Minnie's latest wild goose chases around Spookyville – this is not a metaphor, she created a flock of magic wild geese to chase down the Mayor. It failed, as usual, but they sure left their marks, especially on the seats of the trousers of the Mayor's poor associates. Minnie never cried over her failures too long anymore – to her, it meant something new to learn, like how the Mayor was horribly allergic to goose down. Oh well, his head would stop swelling eventually, and then he'd surely forgive her.

She flounced back to her home on the hill, stopping every now and then to brush some feathers from her dress, making small-talk with her smaller familiars. As they discussed how to improve the next plan, it was Chip who remarked, “Say, did you guys notice that Donald got distracted mid-way through the day?”

“I saw that too!” Dale replied, sitting comfortably on Minnie's shoulder. “Wasn't that the oddest thing?”

“Why, I didn't see that,” Minnie said, surprised by this new information. “I was too busy watching the Mayor... was Donald really that distracted?”

“I swear it!” Chip saluted, always loyal to his lunatic. “I think it was when we were passing the Boo-tique-”

“That's a terrible pun!” Dale groaned.

“Spookyville is 99% terrible puns! And 1% outdated Halloween memes!”

Minnie let them bicker about nonsense as she threw open her front door, terribly curious. “Boys, I need to find out what happened! This could be crucial to my next idea! The Mayor's difficult to get alone, but if I can get rid of his friends, he'll be an easy, adorable target! Now, let me see...” Once her chipmunks hopped off, she began to dig into her closet, tossing magical tools over her shoulder. “Something in here should let me see what got Donald's attention... Enchanted Elixirs, Bewitching Brews, my personalized lockpicking kit...a-ha!” Satisfied, Minnie popped back up holding a remote control in her fingers. “I got this last year for Witchmas! The Clock-Clicker! I tell it a memory, and it'll play it back!”

“That is incredibly convenient,” Chip quipped.

“And to think we almost returned it for a coffee-maker!” Dale added.

Minnie spun around, pointing the clicker in the air and pressing several buttons before uttering the right spell.

“It happened today, a little past ten,

I saw my Mayor, I know exactly when,

Right around the Boo-tique, an eye was caught,

So be a dear and just tell me what!”

The remote glowed white, before shooting out a stream of fluffy clouds that formed a television screen, replaying the day's events. There went Minnie, happily skipping down the street, while citizens and mayors alike ran screaming from the flock of untamed animals she had released to nip at his heels. “Looks like a normal day so far,” Minnie commented as she watched, waiting for the turn around the corner.

“Wait for it...” Chip held his breath, before pointing. “There, right there, pause it!”

Click! Minnie froze the screen, and then leaned in – true enough, Donald had suddenly turned his head to the left, his attention caught elsewhere, instead of on the rabid goose trying to bite down on his tail-feathers. “Why, Chip, you're right! I wonder what made him look!” A few more experimental button-presses allowed her to zoom in past the flurry of white feathers and destroyed street pavement.

Right in front of the Boo-tique, gazing at the windows and ignoring the rampant chaos behind her, stood a young lady duck with her eyes glued to the dresses inside. She was definitely a pretty thing, decked in blues of all types and tints. Silhouettes of tiny mice poked around her hat, held together by a sparkling purple band, and her hands were comfortably resting in a fluffy periwinkle muffler. Her dressed appeared to glitter and gleam with every movement she made, which is perhaps what snagged Donald's eyes in the first place, though it was the rest of her that kept him looking.

Cute as it was, if he had managed to pay more attention to the danger than the dame, he wouldn't have been run over by the geese and the witch herself seconds later, making his back into the world's weirdest runway. Minnie clapped her hands together, intrigued and giddy. “Why, this is perfect! He's got a crush on this nice girl! We should set them up!”

“That's awfully nice of you to suggest, mistress!” Chip said.

“So how are you going to ruin it, mistress?” Dale said.

“If we get them together,” Minnie explained, turning off the image, “Then Donald will spend more time with her and less time with the Mayor! That means his defenses will have a big gap, and my plans to make him mine will increase by 30%!” Warning – trying to attempt this math will make you go cross-eyed. “If there's anyone who knows anything about love, it's Minnie Mouse, Matchmaker Master!” She stuck her fingers in her mouth, whistling for her broom.

“Not that we don't doubt your abilities in the slightest,” Chip easily lied, “But how are you going to do it?”

“Yeah, mistress, your magic is all about winning over the Mayor! … Or killing him. The comedic narrative makes it kind of hard to tell what your aim is,” Dale tried to reason as best he could. “Can it really be used to make someone else fall in love?”

“I won't know unless I try!” Minnie announced, yanking her broom over once it was within reach. “You boys stay here and get rid of the goose pen, I don't think we'll be needing that anymore. Maybe love lions would do better...” She then waved a hand, that would wait another day. “For now, my aim is one Donald Duck! Wish me luck!” She sat atop her broom and flew out the window, humming merrily along the way.

The chipmunks silently agreed that someone else probably needed that luck much, much more.

~*~

At the Mayor's office, Mickey had avoided a visit to the hospital thanks to a magical epi-pen, which is the same as a regular epi-pen, except it's magical. With Minnie's threat over for the day, he could get to work. He shuffled his papers, trying to remember the day's agenda before Minnie decided to... you know, he really had no idea what that last plan would have succeeded in doing, it was perhaps best not to dwell on it. “Okay, guys, where were we?”

“It was just about lunch-time!” Goofy said as he pulled out a tray of triple-decker sandwiches from his hat. “That is if your throat still isn't swelled up... also, what's the difference between the geese that chased us and Donald's distant cousins?”

“We don't have time to deal with existential fourth-wall breaking,” Donald said after clearing his throat, flipping open his notebook. “After your lunch, you need to look over the newest forms concerning donations at the local blood bank. Then you have a meeting with the democratic skeleton society, Dem Bones - ”

“That pun's so bad we should be sued over it.”

“That's your 3'clock appointment. After that, I have to be caught in a magical pink lasso... wait.” Donald paused, not remembering when he wrote that in the schedule – because he hadn't, it was happening right now, thanks to an open window. All three heads swiveled around to see who was on the other end, and take a fair guess.

“Hiii!” Minnie chirped outside, waving the other end of the lasso about as she sat on her broom. “I just need to borrow Donald for a little while! Thanks, bye!” With a click of her heels, the broom sped off, taking Donald with it with a loud “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!”

Mickey blinked at the now empty space in his office. He supposed the reasonable, rational, nice thing to do would be to follow them and make sure nothing happened to his secretary. Then again, he did have a lot of paperwork to get to, and without Donald around, he wouldn't be given more of it. He took a sandwich and thought as he chewed. “You know... he is pretty powerful, I'm sure he can take care of himself. Plus, it'd be nice not to be the center of attention this chapter.”

Goofy poured a fresh cup of tea out of his hat. “And it's got nothin' to do with how popular his new show is, right?”

“What did we just say about the fourth wall?”

~*~

Donald was finally released with an unceremonious THUD about ten blocks later, landing on his head while still tied up. Minnie jumped off her broom and began to brush Donald down. “There there, we can't have you looking like rubbish for your big date.”

Donald's eyes swam, confused on several levels. “My big what? … Oh, no, if you're in love with me now, I will take out my pen and stick it in my jugular.”

“First, ew. Second, rude. Third, it's not with me, silly!” Minnie adjusted his hat, and then began to untie him. “I'm going to get you a date with that cute girl you were staring at!”

Once Donald was free, he rubbed his raw wrists before actually hearing what had been said. “What? Seriously? … What's the catch?” He pointed at her face, immediately and rightfully suspicious. “Anything involving you never ends well. The last thing I need is a Minnie-sized migraine. If you'll excuse me...” He tugged on his jacket, turning on his heel, ready to go. “I can land dates on my own just fine.”

“Oh, really?” Minnie asked, genuinely sincere. “When was the last time you were on a date?”

Donald froze in place, and the longer he took to answer, the more obvious it became what the answer was. “It... might have been... a while...” he mumbled, each word taking more effort to say than the last. “... Oh, boy, I'm actually going to go along with this, aren't I?”

“It'll be easy, with me at your side!” Minnie skipped to his side, taking him by the arm and dragging him along. “A girl that fashionable is probably going to hit the shoe store next. It probably has a pun about soles and souls.”

“Hang on, hang on!” But no matter how hard Donald tried to use his feet as brakes, Minnie proved that her petite body had way more strength than he could ever account for. “I don't even know her name, or what type of monster she is! She could be a witch, or a mummy, or a werewolf... I need to make sure so I don't offend her!”

“Oh, those things don't matter!” Minnie put a hand above her eyes as if that would somehow help her peering prowess. “Just be yourself! Except more charming, suave, and debonair. And try to speak in a more natural voice. And stop frowning. Basically, just be anyone but yourself.” Donald had no time to be insulted when Minnie suddenly squealed, “There she is!” And then shoved Donald face-first into a patch of thorny bushes. “Here, hide so we can plan!”

“WHY IS EVERY MINUTE WITH YOU SOMEHOW FILLED WITH PAIN?!”

Minnie ducked in next to him, not getting pricked by the bushes because they knew better. “See, there she is!” She pointed ahead, and there stood the lady in question, leaving the shoe store with a pair of new purple heels on her feet, trying them out with a little tap-tap-tap on the sidewalk.

Donald managed to rip the thorns out of his face, blinking hard so he could see past the pain. “She is pretty cute... I can't even guess what type of monster she'd be. What makes you think someone that gorgeous would want a regular guy like me?” He waited. Waited. Waited. “...This is the part where you say I'm great.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought that was a rhetorical question.” Minnie shrugged it off, and with a wave of her hands, poofed up a bouquet of red roses. “Anyway, here you go! What girl doesn't love flowers? Aside from the ones who are allergic. But love is a risk worth taking!”

Donald took the flowers, but hesitated. “These... aren't going to explode, or turn carnivorous, or spray laughing gas, or-”

“Less asking me and more asking her out!” Minnie pushed Donald out of the bush, whispering so the other girl hopefully wouldn't hear. “Just walk across the street, and introduce yourself! You can do it!”

Donald glanced back at her, then at the girl who was deciding whether to go next, cupping her chin in adorable thought. He drew a breath – maybe it really could be as simple as all that! He smoothed down his jacket, cleared his throat, and then stepped forward into the street. “Hi-”

We pause this story for a brief safety lesson that is important for all ages. Whether you live in normal society or a world infested with Halloween creatures, you should always look both ways before crossing the street. That way, you will hopefully avoid being hit with an eighteen-wheeler, which Donald did not.

Minnie patiently waited until the last gigantic bone-crushing wheel had ran itself over Donald's mangled body before hopping over and inspecting the damage. “Aw, the flowers got crushed! We better think of something else to win her over.”

“I can't feel my legs.”

“C'mon, she's on the move!” Minnie grabbed Donald by the wrist, ignoring the sickening sound of his liquefied organs as she tried to find where the young lady had gone off to. “Faint heart never won the fair lady! And fainting doesn't count!”

~*~

Later on, the reluctant duo was in the Spookyville library, having spotted the young lady flipping through some texts in a corner. Minnie and Donald poked their heads around the corner, and then Minnie began to shove book after book into Donald's arms. “Okay, plan B. The Meet Cute!”

“Dare I ask?”

“It's the standard cliche for all romance movies! You create a scenario where the love interests meet, bonding over a shared experience, like dropping your books in front of her! She'll pick them up, glance at the titles, and start a conversation! Hollywood would be bankrupt without that trope!”

Once again, this sounded like a sane idea... in theory. However, Minnie's over-eager excitement decided that Donald needed to have many, many books to make this work. Donald wound up with an armful, a stackful, an eyeful – he could no longer see in front of his face. “Please tell me that me being injured isn't going to be the running gag of this chapter. It's already the running gag of my life.”

“Don't be such a downer, and go be the cutest meet that has ever met!” Minnie lightly pushed his shoulders, forcing Donald to walk forward, the tower of books beginning to wobble. Donald gulped loudly, trying to walk very slowly so he could avoid certain doom. Every so often he tried to glance around his pile to at least make sure he was headed in the right direction, but even this proved to be difficult. Inch by inch, scoot by scoot, he didn't dare go any faster. How was he supposed to drop these books naturally, by the way...?

Minnie was running out of patience. This was taking way too long! By the time he got over there, the young lady would be finished with her book and out the door! Clearly Donald needed her assistance. She slid out her wand from her pointy hat, and flicked it towards the carpet underneath his feet. All it would take is one gentle tug, and he'd have his meet cute, followed by date cute, then wedding cute, then Mayor in handcuffs and chained in Minnie's basement cute!

Donald let out a startled “WAK!” as he felt the carpet underneath his feet move, and it was not one gentle tug at all! It was a hard pull, and he was so surprised that he threw all the books up in shock – he let out a longer “WAAAAAK!” and scrambled to catch each and every single one before they could fall, even if it meant catching by with his feet, beak, tail, hat, etc. By some miracle, he managed to retrieve every single fallen book, and sighed with relief at the avoidance of his usual fate.

This relief lasted for three seconds, as when Minnie had tugged the carpet, it had also wound up tugging under the very large, heavy bookshelves which thudded against one another until they had a domino disaster. As much as Donald would have loved to move out of the way, all of his limbs being preoccupied with books prevented him from moving a single inch. The last thing he saw was the young lady quietly leaving – and then he was smashed flat. Minnie clicked her tongue – that wasn't very cute at all! She flounced over to the pile of crushed bookshelves, knowing no librarian with any will to live would think of shushing her, and managed to find Donald's hand. “Honestly, Donald, being loud in a library isn't going to win anyone over! Let's try something else.”

“I think my lung is punctured.”

“Don't be such a crybaby.” With both of her hands holding his, she dragged out the nearly-dead Donald from underneath and headed off. Third time was the charm, and tended to be the last time a plan failed before either a serious of hilarious quick-timed montages, or a success!

~*~

Lunch had passed, and it was almost dinner-time for residents of Spookyville, which was probably why Donald's stomach was rumbling. That, or all the blood his wounded organs were spilling was starting to pile up in there. The young lady was now at the florist, thoughtfully rubbing some rose petals between her fingers as the sun was starting to set. She did not see Donald and Minnie hiding in the nearby alleyway. Minnie's latest plan involved a large wooden guitar, which she strapped to Donald's back before sliding it into his arms. “There! Now you can serenade her, and win her heart with a song!”

Donald plucked a few strings with his fingers. “But I don't know any love songs.”

“Just sing from the heart! It'll come through! True love is understood in all languages, even the tone-deaf!”

Donald was understandably reluctant to give it a try, “hmm”ing out loud as he weighed his options. Mostly he was trying to figure out how this plan would wind up with him in need of a full-body cast, and for once he couldn't connect it. This plan, dumb as it was, did seem to be harmless. “Maybe you used up all your crazy for the day. This might actually do the job!”

Minnie clapped her hands before pointing away. “Go get her, future best man at my wedding!”

The secretary took a deep breath before walking out into the dimming sunlight. Looked left – looked right – nothing to run him over, nothing to fall on top of him, and with a glance behind him, Minnie was doing nothing except shaking a pair of suddenly summoned maracas to go with the song. So far, so good! Donald looked towards the young lady, who had moved on to picking up a few daisies, and found inspiration. He lightly began to strum, making the words up as he went along.

“Daisy, Daisy, you're the one,

That gets me captivated...”

The young lady paused before turning towards the song, eyebrows raised, intrigued by what she was hearing. Donald felt his heart skip a beat, seeing those pretty eyes meet his own, and he faltered before picking up the beat again. Things were going his way! Maybe Minnie wasn't so bad after all! He owed her one!

“Every time you look at me,

I get so addlepated...”

Except you and I both know the road to a bad place is paved with good intentions, and Minnie had nothing but good intentions on her mind. The song was good – but it could be better! Like if it was louder! Yes, if it could be heard all over the world, the young lady would swoon! Or go deaf and never hear Donald's natural voice, which would also work. With a wave of her wand, the maracas vanished, and she replaced them with six-foot-tall speakers. They just needed to be plugged into the guitar – which Minnie forgot at first was not an electric guitar. Oh well, things would work out.

She clicked the plugs for the speakers together, making sure they weren't just full of electricity, but super, super, SUPER charged with electricity. She skipped over to Donald -

“And when I'm riding along the street,

Everybody that I meet...”

“Here you go, Donald!” And jabbed the plugs into his back -

“Says 'there goes that guy,

that's crazy over Daisy MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAE'!”

Which wound up sending hundreds upon thousands of electric volts throughout his body, frying his feathers and turning him into delicious roast duck, then burnt duck, then sizzling, crackling, blackened duck. He landed on his back, mouth open, perhaps far past the point of being able to scream anymore. Minnie leaned over his comatose body, pouting. “Oh, Donald, I don't think she's into heavy metal! Your music taste leaves a lot to be desired.” She tossed the plugs aside, finished with the current scheme. “Oh well. Onto the next idea!”

“NO!” Donald yelled, suddenly able to find the strength to stand up and grab Minnie by the front of her dress. “NO MORE IDEAS! Each one of your stupid ideas gets me closer to death! I just saw a bright light and I'm pretty sure I had Walt waving at me from the other side! NO MORE! I'M OUT! I'M DONE! FINISHED! KAPUT! WHATEVER WILL GET THROUGH THOSE BIG EARS OF YOURS!”

Minnie blinked back at him, his smell reminding her to toss out the old chicken fried rice in her fridge. “But you can't stop now, Donald! Your true love is waiting for you! How will she ever know how you feel if you don't go for it?”

“I CAN'T DATE HER IF I'M DEAD!”

“Now that's just quitter talk. Besides, I know necromancy!”

Donald dropped Minnie like a hot potato, convinced that she took “help him or die trying” quite literally. “Go back to stalking the Mayor! Shoot, I'll gift-wrap him for you if that'll get you to stop helping me! I don't ever want you helping me again! Not now, not ever, now get lost!”

Minnie went quiet, her face seeming to shrink. Her eyes ducked down, almost hidden by her hat, and her hands folded together. She didn't say anything right away, save for a few timid sniffles, before -

“AND YOU, NARRATOR! QUIT TRYING TO DRUM UP SYMPATHY!”

Donald was so caught up in yelling at everyone in sight, and those beyond, he nearly missed the feeling of someone tapping his shoulder. He would've yelled at them too, if that person didn't happen to be the young lady! “Pardon me,” she asked, “But what in the world is going on here? Is it my imagination, or have you two been following me all day?”

“Yes” said Minnie at the exact time Donald said “no”. Minnie then clamped Donald's beak with her hands, bright and peppy again. “My dear friend here wanted to be your boyfriend, so I've been trying to help him come up with ideas on how to win your heart! Isn't that right, Donald?” She made him nod.

The girl raised an eyebrow, turning her head towards Donald. “If that's the case... why didn't you just ask me on a date?”

Stating the simple solution had never hurt a man's soul more severely than it did for Donald right then and there. He buried his face in his hands, grumbling this and that. Minnie tilted her head back in thought – huh, maybe they could've just done that at the start. But what fun would that have been? The young lady held back a chuckle, and offered her hand to Donald. “My name's Daisy.”

Donald lowered his hands slowly in shock. He glanced at Minnie, who gave two thumbs up, before steadily taking Daisy's hand to shake it. “I'm, um... I'm Donald Duck! It's nice to meet you, Daisy.”

“Looks like my work here is done!” Minnie declared proudly, whistling for her broom.

“You literally did nothing,” Donald said under his breath.

“Invite me to the wedding so I can catch the bouquet!” Minnie cheered as she took a seat and began to ride off. Why, she did such a nice thing today! It made her feel good. She deserved a reward for all her hard work – a hot bath, a few chocolates, and then watching the Mayor through the hidden security cameras she placed all over his house.

Relieved to be rid of the nuisance at last, Donald adjusted his hat and linked arms with Daisy, happy to be with a sane woman for the first time all day. “Hey, the day's still young! Why don't we grab a bite to eat?” Maybe he could ask her what type of monster she was, after he told her he was a warlock.

“I had the exact same idea,” Daisy said with a girly giggle, but instead of sharing Donald's embrace, she calmly lifted his arm and rolled up his sleeve. “Bon appetite!” And then sunk her vampire fangs right into his flesh.

As it turned out, Donald did still have enough nerve cells alive that could allow him to scream his lungs out.

#disney #fanfic #welcome to spookyville #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #donald duck #daisy duck

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