#On his funeral then just support my mom. No instead he does this shit. I cant handle it how he acts like all is fine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scarlettriot · 3 years

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Along for the Ride PT 1

Pairing: KirishimaxF!Reader

Summary: A drunken mistake had you marking the little Plus One box to your snobby cousin's wedding. Kirishima told you not to worry, if you couldn't find a date, he'd go with you. When the wedding gets moved up, there's absolutely no time to find a date and you're now about to be traveling to America with Kirishima on a private jet no less, dreading having him meet your rude and impossibly arrogant family.

Contains: Kirishima and Reader both come from very well-off families. Plus-Sized Reader. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Kinda smutty for a minute. Minors DNI. Drunken Sex. TW: Manipulative Family Relationships. TW: Body Image Issues

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I might rewrite this and repost. Or I might just post the whole thing soon. I dunno yet. It does get smuttier.

Word Count: 4,974

"What's up with Y/N?"

Eijiro stepped out of the locker room with a towel slung over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchenette where Mina was chugging a bottle of water before getting back to her patrol. His eyes were trained on their mutual friend out on the patio, pacing.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, the high neck of your hero costume unzipped to your collarbone and he noticed your gloves discarded on a chair.

"No clue." Mina shrugged. "She got back from patrol and she noticed a bunch of missed calls from her mom. She's been out there, flailing on the phone for the last fifteen minutes now."

The three of you had met in your second year at UA when you transferred into their class and were quickly accepted by their little squad of friends. You were a bit quiet at first but quickly found comfort in the group. Eijiro had grown especially close to you when you both interned with Fat Gum.

Late nights traveling on the train back to school, a few close calls while helping patrol, and days spent playing cards while you both healed up in the hospital left plenty of time for Eijiro to get to know you better than most. It was how he knew you had a pretty bad relationship with your family, why you hated returning home for the holidays almost as much as you hated any and all forms of tomatoes.

He considered going out there just to see if there was anything he could do but before he had the chance, you were sliding the glass door open. "Oh, good, you're back." He offered you a bottle of water for your throat that he assumed was sore after that argument. "I- um- can I borrow you for a second? Alone?"

Mina snorted a laugh. "If you guys wanna bang it out on the counter you can just say so. I gotta go to work anyways."

Eijiro threw the towel at her as she left the room leaving you two alone. "What's goin' on?"

You hoisted yourself up on the countertop while he leaned against the fridge. "You remember my cousin's wedding that's happening this winter?"

He nodded. He vividly remembered the both of you getting waste a few weeks ago when you were filling out the RSVP and accidentally marking 'plus one'. Then you ran around trying to find White Out but he'd told you if you didn't find a date or have a significant other by the time of the wedding, he'd just go with you.

You argued that your family was bat shit crazy, had more money than they could spend in their lifetime and because of that, they were among some of the rudest people you knew, and you didn't want Eijiro or anyone else around that.

The thing was, Eijiro already knew that and was still okay with going. He came from money too. A lot of it. His family was just more welcoming than yours, the wealth never really going to their heads. But, he reminded you that he'd ran into enough people like those in your family that he knew how to handle them. You finally agreed to let him accompany you, leaving the plus one box checked but the name line blank.

"Well, my cousin just found out that surprise, she's pregnant! And, obviously, she can't have a wedding while seven months along so they've decided to move the wedding up to this weekend."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "This weekend? As in four days from now?"

"Yup! Saturday at 4 in the evening. Oh! No one's supposed to know she's pregnant either. So, I'm just supposed to compliment her on how flattering her dress looks, how thin she is," Your hands strangled the water bottle between them, "And I have to find something flattering to my figure because my mother has seen me in my hero outfit and she's so glad I wear a mask because if anyone knew her daughter ran around looking like I do, well, it'd ruin her!"

You massaged your temples circling back to the actual point, "Anyways, I just wanted to bitch for a sec and let you know you're off the hook since four days is just a little short notice and I told her my plus one wouldn't be able to get the time off that fast."

He pushed off the fridge. "Well, wait, hang on! I'm not letting you go in alone to deal with them! Hell no! You need backup!" You looked almost taken aback by his abruptness, "Yeah. I can work this out. Is the wedding at the same place it was supposed to be or has it moved?"

"No, it's still that fancy lodge in California. I was planning on leaving Friday morning and then coming back either Sunday night or Monday morning since my mother insists I go to their brunch the following day. But, Eijiro, I already have this weekend off..."

"Denki owes me a favor or twelve. He's supposed to be off this weekend too, I'll just see if he can cover me."

"And if he can't?"

"Then..." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, "Y/N, am I feeling warm to you? I think I might be starting a fever!"

You folded your arms, shaking your head, "Thought you said lying isn't manly."

"Technically, correct. But, what would be real unmanly is for me to let you deal with your family's bullshit all alone." You watched him closely, "To be honest, I'm sure we could just explain you had a family thing come up and asked me to come along for moral support. I don't really think anyone would think twice about it. Hell, you took a few days off to console me when my turtle died suddenly!"

"Eiji, you refused to eat."

"And you brought me my favorite dumplings! Same thing!"

You might have shaken your head at him but your arms opened wide. The telltale sign you wanted affection. He walked forward, consuming you in a tight hug. Your arms latched around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. "You're the best."

"I just do what I can."

>>><<<

You should have canceled. Instead of Eijiro faking sick to get out of work, you should have faked it with your mother so you didn't have to go in the first place. You crumpled to the floor of your bedroom in pure frustration amidst the twenty or so outfits and dozen pairs of shoes you'd thrown out of your closet trying to find something that your mother would deem appropriate.

It wasn't your fault you had a fuller figure. You worked out, ate right, not to mention your job kept you very active, and yet your, hips, ass, and breasts were by no means subtle.

Your mother had also insisted on the dress being floor-length and modern, "Do try not wearing all black. It's a wedding, not a funeral. And, get your hair looking natural, please." And, just like that, 70% of your wardrobe was out the window!

"It's open!" You called from the floor when the doorbell rang.

"You really should lock this." Mina tutted, walking through the door with a bag full of takeout.

"I do. At night."

"Honey, it's 9 PM."

"Night like bedtime."

Mina just rolled her eyes and walked into your tiny kitchen. "I see the dress hunt is going well."

"I actually figured it out!" You got off the floor, careful not to step on a heel as you made your way to the pink haired woman, "I'm just gonna go in my birthday suit. I figured, my mother made my body technically therefore she can't disapprove of it. Because, you know, she's never done anything wrong in her life!"

Your best friend snorted out a laugh and passed you the take-out container stuffed full of stir fry. "you're a wonderful person, you know that?" You loved the fact Mina didn't even have to ask what you wanted.

"If you'd just move closer to work then you could pick it up yourself and I wouldn't have to bring it to you."

"Too expensive." You declared after a mouthful. "You pay almost twice as much as I do per month and I just don't see the point. I have damn near the same amount of space you do for half the cost!"

You adored your small one-bedroom apartment. It was perfect. Right above a bakery that you visited each morning after your run and a little balcony that provided you with the most stunning view of the sunset.

"You and Kiri, I swear." Mina just shook her head and curled up with her food on the loveseat. "I thought he'd end up with the biggest house out of us all the moment we started making that real Pro money. You've seen his parent's house. It's massive! You could get lost in that place!"

Eijiro's place was barely bigger than your own. He lived in the same condo he had since you'd graduated UA, claiming it was perfect for him in each and every way. But, you knew that he donated a sizable amount of his paycheck every month to charities, the same as you. With savings to spare, neither of you saw the point in hoarding it and therefore the small condo was all he could afford with what he actually kept.

"Just don't understand how a guy that big can live in such a tiny little space. At least with you, it's you know, physically feasible."

Eijiro's bedroom was barely large enough to fit the king-sized bed the man needed to sleep comfortably and even then, his feet were dangerously close to dangling off the bed. And, as if the man's ears were burning, your cell phone went off under a pile of discarded shoes.

Shark-E: Figured out your dress situation? If not, I'm just gonna pack like ten different ties and hope for the best.

You: Yeah! I totally did! I'm just gonna wear this birthday suit I got and call it a night.

You chuckled at your own joke all over again. Watching the grey ellipses appear and then vanish, appear and vanish again. After a third time, you took pity on the man.

You: Joking, Ei. I still don't have it figured out but Mina's over so, hopefully, she can help.

Shark-E: Gonna give me a damn heart attack! Seriously, I wouldn't put it past you just to see the look on your mom's face. Tell Mina hi and good luck to you. I vote the dress from the Hero Gala two years ago.

You: Hi from Mina. Can't. Too much boobs.

Shark-E: You take that back right now! There is NEVER such a thing as too much boobs!

You chuckled to yourself, putting your phone down, and then finished off the last of your delicious dinner, thinking about the dress Eijiro mentioned.

You wondered if maybe there was a way you could make the thing work but it was so very low cut. So much tape had been used to make sure no slips happened but damn was it worth it! The beaded bodice with the sparkling long sleeves, gods, how you loved that dress.

"I'm inclined to agree with our shark boy. You're busty, who gives a damn. You looked hot as hell in that dress."

"My mother, that's who. As much as I'd like to not give a flying fuck what she thinks, for some dumb reason, I do. On top of her telling me that the amount of cleavage I would show would be vastly inappropriate for a wedding, she'd also say the way it hugs my hips makes them look too fat."

Mina rolled her eyes. "She's such a piece of work." Pushing herself up, she held her arms out to you, wiggling little pink fingers for you to take. "Come on then. Let's get you sorted."

"What about that one you wore to the charity art thingy with Kyoka last winter? The one with the silver top."

"Silver is too close to white." You called out from within your closet.

"What! Not true!"

"You know that. I know that. Every person with two brain cells knows that, which is why most of my family does not know that."

"Fine..." She whined and started sifting through the opposite end of your closet. "Oh, what about this?" Mina waved about the blue and green plaid skirt that made up your uniform from your middle school days when you lived in America. "Please try this on. I'm begging!"

You were pretty sure it wouldn't even go over your thighs anymore.

"It's got a better chance of fitting you!"

Mina threw it at you anyway. Slipping off the sweats you wore, somehow, someway, you were able to tug it on AND get it zipped, barely. It no longer covered your ass but you still enjoyed the way it swished around when you wiggled your hips.

"You could be fulfilling so many people's fantasies right now." Mina mused.

You pulled the skirt off and sweats back on, throwing the former back at her. "Yeah, you can take it and go fulfill Hanta's fantasies if you like. Not like I've got anyone to impress." You pulled down a dress you bought on sale a year ago but Mina was quick to dismiss it.

Too puffy, she said and then held up one that was from Momo. "I needed to get it shortened and I don't have time for that now."

"Wait..." She hummed and dropped the Momo dress. "I know what it should be!"

Mina hurried through the closet, grumbling about not finding it. "Just tell me which dress and I can tell you where it's at."

"It's that one you got for grad night and then you got sick and couldn't go!"

"Mina, Mina I can't wear that! That's actual vintage, not like, made-to-look-vintage!"

"But it's so elegant and has that off-the-shoulder sleeve thing. The wedding is at a damn sky lodge! It'll look so pretty in the snow! Ah! Found it!"

She yanked up the long, elegant gown from the garment bag you'd never removed it from. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the burgundy fabric. It looked just as beautiful as the day you found it in that second-hand store, on a mannequin with gaudy stage jewels that you just had to buy so the look was complete.

You ran the back of your hand over the velvety fabric, soft to the touch. "It'll be too tight now. If I was the same size I was at graduation-"

"Bullshit!" Mina cut you off with a dismissive hand, "You've got hips now. We aren't 18 anymore! It's not like it's some clubbing dress. And I bet no one would say a damn thing about your figure if they knew how easily you could crush them with those thighs!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without quirks, you gave every single one of your classmates a run for their money in hand to hand. Most were fairly easy to beat. You could usually take down Eijiro in about five or six minutes and Katsuki in half the time. Funny enough, it was Ochaco that gave you the hardest time.

"I'll consider it. But help me find something else just in case."

>>><<<

It was another two hours before you finally agreed on an a-line, empire waist green and gold number that had been the bridesmaid's dresses for Tetsutetsu's wedding. Mina thought they were a crime the first time they had to wear them, she had no idea what you were thinking.

That's why the moment you were preoccupied with trying to find yet another dress for the Sunday brunch, Mina pulled out her phone.

You: DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow Y/N to wear the green dress. She's bringing two because she can't decide. Red is the winner!

Jaws: Aw, come on. If she likes it, let her wear whatever she's comfortable in. She'll be under enough stress already.

You: Kirishima, it's the dress from Tetsu's wedding. The one that looks sparkly baby food.

It took him a second to respond.

Jaws: Alright. Understood. I thought you guys looked good but damn, she hated that dress.

You: We all did.

Mina looked at the message chain again and couldn't help but asked, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you and Eiji are flying all the way to America, last minute, to attend a wedding together, even though you're not together?"

"We've flown to the states before."

"For work!" She sat up eagerly. "This is different, Y/N! This is a date and not just a, like, casual date but a wedding date!"

You poked your head out of the closet. "No, it isn't. This is a friend helping another friend who stupidly mismarked an RSVP." You corrected very plainly but Mina wasn't one to give up so easily.

She whined, dragging out your name, "You guys have been doing this thing for ages. Why do you have to be so stubborn about it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mina started ticking off points on her fingers. "He was the first person you opened up to at UA. You saved his life when he was busy saving Katsuki's life second year. You spent all that time interning together, became sidekicks together. Went to America together for three whole months, ALONE, and you honestly expect me to think there's nothing between the two of you!"

The truth of it all was simple really; 17 year old you had a massive crush on Eijiro Kirishima. He was sweet, always listening to you, providing comfort when you needed it, and always encouraging you to push your limits. He was bright and honest, a little slow in the head from time to time but that made him all the more endearing.

He was also head over heels in love with Katsuki Bakugo.

It was why you never made a move. Never spoke a word of the feelings you harbored. You didn't dare to cross that line with him because you couldn't ever hold a candle to the explosive man.

In the three years Eijiro and Katsuki spent together, your brain finally started registering Eijiro as just a friend, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. You thought your heart had followed suit but it was becoming more and more apparent that wasn't the case. Because the night he showed up at your door, tears in his ruby eyes, every lock you put on your heart broke open.

The same way you couldn't hold a candle to Katsuki, Eijiro couldn't hold one to Izuku. You knew exactly what he was feeling even if you never intended to tell him. Too overcome with fear. If Katsuki came back... that'd be it. Eijiro would go back and you wouldn't even blame him!

Still, the redhead consumed a decent chunk of your heart though, you couldn't deny that after the three months you spent together in America, gathering intel on a smuggling ring, living in the same apartment. The groggy, 'good mornings' when his voice was still scratchy with sleep, hair falling in his eyes. The late nights bandaging wounds and killing cheap bottles of wine while watching terrible American reality shows.

It was those bottles of wine that did you in on your second to last night in America. Supplying you with courage and draining your sense of reason, allowing you to crawl onto his lap, into his arms. You could still remember the pressure of his lips on yours, those sharp teeth gently dragging along your lower lip.

Scared hands tracing the curve of your ass before taking handfuls to squeeze. The laugh that came from you was unlike anything you heard before, something so genuine that you couldn't reproduce.

How it felt when he lifted you up and took you to his bed, laying you down taking his time removing your clothes, and watching with awe as you pulled away his own. The way he looked over top of you, his hair a curtain of red around you just before you closed your eyes, gasping while he filled you.

You also remembered the guilt that crept into your head during the wee hours of the morning, the doubt that was louder than the snores coming from behind you.

It made you slip from under his massive arm, gather up your clothes from his floor, you tucked the blanket around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple before padding out of the room.

You told yourself you'd talk to him about it if he brought it up, but he never did. Not the next morning, or night, not on the plane ride back home, nor anytime since. It was a memory you'd hold close to your heart, one you wouldn't let slip away or share.

"There's nothing there, Mina. We're just good friends is all." You lied with a smile on your face, something that had become surprisingly easy to do.

If only you knew that Mina saw right through it. That Mina already knew the truth of it all.

>>><<<

It was nearly one in the morning when your phone rang. The goofy picture of Eijiro with face half painted at a festival a few years back never failed to make you grin.

"It's a little late." You answered by way of greeting.

"Don't pretend like you were anywhere close to sleeping, you little night owl."

Chuckling at the nickname that had followed you since high school, "What's up, Eiji?"

"I was going over flights. You said in the office that you wanted to leave on Friday?"

"Yeah. I have patrol tomorrow and I didn't find any flights after 6 PM so, Friday is the earliest."

He was quiet on the other line for a moment. "Yeah, you don't have patrol tomorrow, or work at all for that matter."

You sat up a bit straighter in bed. "Um, yes I do."

"No, you don't. I called Mina, asked her if you'd mind taking that shift for you and, since she knows what's happening, she agreed the extra day for travel would do you some good. So, she's covering you tomorrow then you're off work until next Wednesday. As for me, thanks to all that overtime I put in when Denki, Kyoka, and Hitoshi got married, the three of them are splitting up my days so I have until Wednesday too."

Eijiro sounded impossibly proud on the other line, you could almost see the smirk on his face. "You've got this all planned out, don't you?"

"And a bag nearly packed. Just need you to tell me what ties to bring."

"Gold, burgundy, and black."

"Thought your mom said no black for you?"

"She said no black for the wedding. She said nothing about black at the brunch!"

You couldn't wait to put on the tea-length dress that had been a favorite for years. Satin with a lacy top and, best of all, pockets.

He let out a rumbling laugh that fell off into comfortable silence as you laid back in your bed, lights still on, the room still a mess. You tapped the speaker icon and laid the phone on the pillow right beside your head, listing to the various sounds of Eijiro moving around.

A door creaking open, a hanger clattering against another, and a zipper. "And just like that, I'm all set."

"Don't forget your passport or hero license."

"I have one in my wallet and the other in my backpack."

You swiped up on your iPad, off Netflix, and going to google, lazily searching through flights. "So, did you find any good flights since you've clearly been looking?"

Another chuckle, "Eijiro, why are you laughing?" More stifled giggles had you sitting up in bed again. "Just tell me a site you were on. They're just flights, what's so funny?"

"There isn't a site."

"You said you were checking flights."

"And I was... on my family's jet."

"Eiji! No! No, no, no! That is supposed to be for their business or hero things! My stupid cousin's wedding is neither of those things!"

"Relax, Y/N. My family has multiple and they don't have any business trips planned right now anyways. I already cleared it with my mom. Seriously, I just mention your name and she's likely to let me have it for a whole year at least. Plus Todoroki's is back up in working order so the agency is covered too."

Damn, why'd he have to be so good at planning from time to time! You'd completely forgotten about the second jet his family had. Always opting for the larger one since the few missions they needed it for required them to bring fifty or so heroes along.

"Besides, if we fly private, we can land at an airstrip closer to the venue and won't need to drive four hours on top of a ten-hour flight."

"Alright, okay, thank you but, let me take care of the rental car, please. It's the least you can let me do."

"Deal. I just have one more question for ya."

"What's that?"

"Wanna leave tonight?"

You nearly dropped your damn iPad in shock. "Eijiro! What the fuck has gotten into you! It's the middle of the night!"

"I'm excited!" He boomed, "I haven't had a vacation in months!"

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but this isn't going to be a vacation. You really shouldn't get your hopes up. This isn't going to be a good time with laughs and fun memories... my family, they just, they aren't those kinds of people."

"But we are." He stated matter-of-factly. "If they want to have sticks up their asses then let them! We'll have a good time on our own, laugh and make fun memories! So, what do you say, Y/N? I can be at your place in fifteen. I just gotta put shoes on and grab my keys..."

"Wait, hang on. Are you forgetting that we need someone to, oh, I dunno, FLY THE PLANE! Actually, we need two someone's, can't forget about a co-pilot!"

He hummed happily and you rubbed your temples. "You, you have a pilot and a co, don't you, Eiji?"

"Mhm! There is a company we use. Two can be at the hanger in an hour and every hour after that. I just have to make the call and get the flight plan approved which will be done before I even get to your house."

There was literally no reason to say no. You had mostly everything packed, nothing you needed to get from the store, all you had to do was put on pants and pack up your hygiene bag and you were ready too. Maybe getting there quicker and getting the whole thing over with would be better than staying home dwelling on everything.

"Better put your shoes on."

The glee in his voice, that was enough to make this whole thing worth it, "I'll see you soon."

>>><<<

Eijiro reached into the backseat and plopped a bag down on your lap the very moment you were buckled in. "Had to make a pit stop." He explained.

"It's after two in the morning, where'd you have to..."

"Just open the bag and don't complain."

You found it filled to the brim with all your favorite snacks.

"I'm sure the plane will have a bunch of snacks we can raid but I know for a fact they don't have these." He held up a pack of cookies and creme flavored pocky that had been his favorite for as long as you'd known him, quickly followed by your favorite flavor too. You also found a massive bag of gummy worms and jolly ranchers.

"So, what you're telling me is our teeth are going to rot by the time we land? Not that I'm complaining."

You ripped open the bag of ranchers knowing that was what he'd go for first and sure enough his hand dove inside just as he pulled away from the curb. You could hear his dangerously sharp teeth biting through the rock candy like it was nothing while you still rolled one around your mouth.

Eijiro asked you about the resort you'd be going to, wondering if you'd been there before or what other stuff you guys could do when you weren't dealing with your family. "I figured we could fly back Monday night or Tuesday morning, you know, just play it by ear in case there was anything else we wanted to do."

More than anything, you wished you could just leech a little bit of that excitement from him. The glimpses of his smile you caught as you drove under the street lights made your heart ache.

"What?" He asked with that wide smile of his. You'd been caught staring, red-handed.

"I, uh, I just don't know what to tell you."

You could see the subtle change of his grin, watch as it softened and his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Hey, it's gonna be fine! And if we run into them while out doing stuff, you can just avoid them or hide behind me!" At least hiding behind Eijiro is an easy thing to do, damn mountain of a man.

His thumb slowly brushed back and forth. "'S gonna be okay. I'll beat 'em up if they're assholes!"

You snickered at his Katsuki impression and let the drone of the radio fill the air around you both. Enjoying the silence the rest of the way to the hanger with Eijiro's hand atop your leg.

#mha #bnha #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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angryteapott-archive · 2 years

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I actually (personally) like anthony's arc in the show a bit better too. In the book there's this p&p esque emphasis that he's core good all along w/ rough edges. But Anthony isn't just a little judgey but overall kind to strangers like Darcey, Anthony is repeated a Giant Dick in both the show and the book,, NOT ONLY by modern standards but as told by people in his world. That's an issue for a romance lead.

The books tries to solve by him standing up for penelope at a ball- he does that because she's a family friend, and I'm not personally convinced he's a nice person from that considering the shit he's said/ done to other strangers thats pretty much the bullying he's saving her from. He loves his family but in a way that is dismissive, controlling, and doesn't line up with how he treats others, ie him throwing a key to see kate crawl on the floor after being such a controlling dick to Daphne because "simon doesn't treat women right" BETTER THAN YOU DICKHEAD. The conflict that is instead addressed in the book is his resistance to love due to trauma, and to resolve the other issues the book decides "he might be a rake but he's also something else entirely " like who cares? Volunteering at the soup kitchen doesnt absolve you of kicking puppies??

The show at least attempts to link both things- he's a callous misogynist who's too controlling while having a dutiful heart for his family and trauma BECAUSE he has a dutiful heart towards family and trauma. He's not kind/honorable and separately a swashbuckling rake, his kindness is tainted and mirrors his actions as a rake because it comes from his terrified certainty that his family can rely only on him. He's allergic to being wrong and condescends constantly because he's caught up in this narrative. I need a mistress because I need affection without being vulnerable with my family because then I'm putting the burden on them that mom put on me and I can't possibly be wrong in treating my mistress as subhuman because my duty to family means she's unsuitable for my reputation and if I'm wrong about that SHE needs to fit into MY world. Edwina's a good wife candidate, I'm the only one who can support my family, if I'm wrong about something my family faces dire consequences (baby or mother?), I cannot be wrong, if I no longer want to marry Edwina my previous decision was wrong, I must marry edwina to never be wrong for my family. Thus him not pursuing kate and pursuing edwina actually makes more sense then it does in the books- instead of it being due to a fear of his own death that doesn't touch his relationship to his family, it is in line with his actions towards daphne, his mistresses, his brothers etc as a fear of a loss of control. It's completely irrational but justified to himself as self sacrifice. In the show everyone is baffled by his decision except for kate, who has the exact same fear and the exact same flawed arithmetic. Why can't she also find a match? Because Edwina's the one who's important! She's not afraid of a loss of control and being legally separated from her family at all! She's doing it for them! It makes no sense until its viewed through the lens of her trauma. Anthony resisting being together is less drawn out in the books, but while the starter reason is similar (edwina makes a good wife) the secondary reason (I'm attracted to Kate and thus will be too sad about my upcoming funeral) rings a little hollow for me because we don't see that fear of death in other areas.

In the book, Anthony's issue of trauma making him not want to love Kate is resolved by him deciding to not let fear make him not want to love Kate. His previous callous behavior is completely forgotten or presumably continued. In the show, Anthony's issue of trauma making him want to never be wrong and control everything by saying he's self sacrificing is resolved by him realizing that very fear puts him in the wrong a lot of the time and his sacrifices aren't actually what people want or need. Whether it's putting too much pressure on his 13 year old brother, bribing an institution to accept his 20 something year old brother, or lying to a lovely young woman about the circumstances of their engagement- it's NOT for their own good, what he's sacrificing for is his fear, and he needs to learn to love in a way that takes into account other peoples input. Daphne's line was deafening - "All of these decisions that you seem to make and then resent us for. Though they do not make you worthy of your family's respect. They simply make us pity you." !!!!!! !!!!!! ! ! ! He realizes he's failed! And only through that does he realize it's now safe to fail! This culminates in him confessing he loves Kate while understanding he can't control what she does in response, but more importantly it is preceded by him making amends with his mother, brothers, and generally admitting he was wrong. Instead of an arc that's indulgent of his bad behavior and where trauma only impacts one facet of his life substantially, he begins to change how he moves in the world!! Way more consistent of a motivation.

Now, was how we arrived there better than the book to me? No. Once he realized he should dump edwina it really was annoying that they pushed it to the wedding day for drama. Why wasn't kate's arc equally fleshed out. Why was so much time devoted to penelope and the featheringtons. There's flaws. But i think the writers at least realized "anthony is nice to penelope at a ball and loves his fam" wasn't going to cut it to present anthony as a good man, and the arc they gave is actually pretty nuanced. Deffo think the book was better paced though, and Edwina and Mary are MUCH better done in the book.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton meta #god help me but it is

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fucktheroyals · 4 years

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You know after reading and reading and reading peoples theories and the meta from before the spn finale aired and the meta writers reactions to the finale I think I have a theory of my own. We don't have any answers tho, so this is pure speculation. If you wanna add something to support or discredit any of this that's cool but there's too many things floating around. Know I dont have proof for this conclusion at all. A lot of what I say is just guesses based on previous facts.

This all came together in my head when I realized how much this finale REEKS of the original producers and who the show was originally for. It REEKS of Robert Singer. Like if the execs started saying they didn't want it, Robert Singer was the one pushing that the story was about the brothers. That kinda thing.

Then, I was thinking of the problems in this episode and it struck me these are all of Supernatural biggest issues and to be honest all of it feels completely deliberate.

Take the sexism for example, Supernatural in it's later seasons largely out grew this, we have Jody, Rowena, Donna, Charlie, Mary, Claire (and even a wayward sisters pilot with MORE women/girls) all making regular appearances. They're mainly good characters and mostly aren't there to hurt our boys. Rowena, of course, is the one outlier being very about herself but it's clear she still cares for them, I mean its part of her development. But they're all real, with character flaws just like everyone else. (And we have Death too and she was POC 😭 THANK GOD)

Now look at the earlier half of Spn, we have Ellen and Jo, who's appearances were far in between. There's Bela in season 3, recurring for quite a bit (5 eps), but she is a character that is only there for herself, definitely not found family (unlike Ellen & Jo), and she's got more episodes in season 3 than Ellen and Jo in season 2 who aren't seen again til season 5. The "fans" send in hate mail after hate mail to try to get these characters off, and eventually they are. Then there's Ruby who's character stayed for a whole two seasons and was a largely recurring character. Why does she get to say so long? She's a plot device. She's supposed to be there to betray Sam. She has to stay (plus Jared obviously likes her). But she's not just a character the writers like writing about. Same with Lilith. Obviously not as recurring but still a plot device. Did they get hate mail tho? You can bet on it. Why? because tHeY'rE gOnNa PuSh ThE bOyS (Dean and Sam) aPaRt ThE sHoW iS aBoUt ThE bOyS oNlY. Without even thinking about the hate mail, just notice how large the difference is from how women are seen in the earlier seasons to the later seasons. Misha got tons of hate mail too for being a character that could split up the boys (probably only being allowed to say because he a man, thanks sexist producers and execs).

Only after Castiel was killed off and then Castiel fans successfully (thank you guys) got him back on the show did the hate mail largely simmer, which means female character's were allowed to stay! Which has lead us to a show with a good amount of female characters. But can you imagine having to kill characters off time and time again because people keep complaining that the show is "only about the boys." Fun times really.

So now we get to this final and we see sexism. But it wasn't just the plain old regular sexism you find in the earlier days of spn. Because now, there ARE women to talk about, talk to. But this episode was DESOLATE women wise, unless they were used for plot (which is also sexist!). Small scenes, they're barely there. Women gets her tongue cut out. Random women from s1 gets killed. Sam doesn't SPEAK of Eileen. Nothing. No mention of any female characters from the boys mouths unless they were from/in this episode itself. That's WIERD. I know we've all said it. But that goes beyond forgetting about characters. I mean its SAM'S GIRLFRIEND for Christ's sake. There is NO REASON they couldn't have said Eileen's name. Notice how Sam's wife is just... faceless. This is literally an age old sexist trope. Like... one of the things about bringing Mary back to life for s12+ is that it takes this trope... of basically a generic mother, and gives her life and feelings, whether you like them or not, they're real feelings. They said Mary isn't just a mom she's a person. Mary's existence in the later half of spn is to fix this kind of female tropes that fall upon her character, to not let these her stay a 2 dimensional character. They said we should know she's more than just the mom who tried to save her kid. Do that is the exact opposite of Sam getting a nameless, faceless wife. The sexism of the old spn wasn't just brought back, it was completely amplified. It wasn't just accidental or some exec "fixing" the story it was DELIBRATE. Whoever wrote that, didn't do ALL OF THAT by accident. Because an exec or a producer who doesn't see the flaws in old supernatural isn't going to write it that deliberately.

Let's bring it back to s10 when Charlie was killed (singer was mainly to blame). Dead in the bathtub, age old classic of burying ur gays. If you were here you know people never let Supernatural live that down. THEY KNOW what bury ur gays means. Hell, Robbie Thompson left because of Charlie's death and you think the writers don't know what it means? I mean both Bobo Berens (especially) and Steve Yockey's careers are centered around LGBT+ storytelling and you think they don't know? They know. They know.

And Dean wasn't just apart of the bury your gays trope, it is so far BEYOND that. Dean being killed on a rusty nail/screw, the tongues ripped out, things that seemed to be meant for other people. Jensen's acting in the last two episodes was giving us "DEAN RECIPROCATES" but no one ever actually saying it. I think it's clear that Dean was killed for being Bi. They didn't address it for a reason, they just silenced him. His narrative was supposed to be about letting him be HIM for the first time, to say what his feelings are instead of having them miscommunicated, and instead of doing that, they just silenced him. And the more we look at this scene the more horrific it gets. The more it's a complete slap in the face and it's supposed to be. Some guy who knows nothing about the LGBT can't write a scene this horrific.

Some guy who knows nothing about Dean couldn't write a scene that deconstructs all of Dean's character development and gives Dean his worst nightmare. I MEAN DEAN WANTED TO LIVE HIS LIFE! THEY DIDNT HIDE THAT JOB APPLICATION (or whatever job related thing that was) IN THERE FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES THEY WANT YOU TO KNOW THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST SITUATION. Dean isn't Barney from HIMYM. If you watched HIMYM then you'll know Barney went from being a stereotypical ladies man and treating women terribly to being in love with a women and treating her right and working hard for it. The last episode of HIMYM (why its so bad) Barney's character development is thrown out and he's back to being a stereotypical ladies man. You don't need to know Barney's character very much to do that.

To kill Dean during a hunt his father never finished, to not have anyone at his funeral, to have Dean die young like his life didn't matter. Those are Dean's worst fears and you'd only truly know that if you watched the gin episode in s3, where they are basically laid out for you. You HAVE to know Dean's character to tear him apart like this.

This episode took all the core elements of the show and did a complete 180° the name of the episode itself is "Carry on" and Dean and Sam very much did not carry on. Sam grieving his entire life so that he good get to heaven and see Dean again. Dean being ready to live his life, despite the enormous pitfalls and learning to love himself only to be killed. "Family don't end with blood." Um.... it did in that episode either literally with Dean's death or you know BECAUSE NONE OF THEIR FOUND FAMILY WAS THERE. Not Jack, Not Cas, Not Eileen, Not Donna, Not Charlie, Not Jody, Not Claire... on and on we go. No one was there, nobody was even mentioned. Dean's funeral, no one even called that we know of. It was just Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean. And Bobby. Don't forget Bobby. But yeah Sam and Dean.

That's what the show is about right, the brothers.

Except it's not anymore. It hasn't been for years.

Cas not being there was deafening but it brought us to a major point. Becky. Becky's telling us about the terrible ending.

And many of us are wondering why would they literally tell us this is the worst ending and then... make it the ending.

Now before we move on, it very apparent many of you think Dabb doesn't ship Deancas. And Dabb doesn't care about the characters.

Say what you will about any plot holes in his writing, the point he is VERY GOOD at writing the characters, and giving us good ones.

Why do we know Dabb ships Deancas? (ill say when its cowrote, other wise its not) cowrote ep 8.02 - purgatory "I prayed to you, Cas, every night" "Cas, Buddy, I need you." "I have a price on my head, and I've been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to – to keep them away from you." 8.08 Hunteri Heroici - Cas helps them hunt! 😊❤ Dean & Cas have a serious convo about why Cas doesn't want to see/go to heaven. 8.22 Dean's mad at Cas. Sam's explanation of why Dean should be easy on Cas: "It's Cas." Dean then points out how he'd knife anybody else if they did what Cas did. 9.10 - Cas comforts Dean when Dean can't take seeing Sam (Gadreel) being tortured anymore. Also tons of Cas. 9.20 (bloodlines) - Canonical couple parallel "I was there, where were you" 9.22 The angels make Cas choose between them and killing Dean and he "gave up an entire army for one guy" 10.09 Claire's reintroduction. Cas heavy ep. DeanCas date. 10.22 THE PRISONER - u know the ep where Dean beats the shit out of Cas but loves him enough to not kill him.

We COULD keep going but I think I've made my point. If Robert Singer is the guy that is like "the show is about Sam and Dean only" Andrew Dabb is the DeanCas shipper. And you could even say a Cas stan.

Notice! How in s13 for SEVEN episodes we have a story that revolves around Dean's grief about losing Cas. Notice! How often the stories in all these seasons have a focus on their relationship. THAT is Andrew Dabb. If it weren't for him doing that, we wouldn't be able to easily say after Dean's lack of a response to Cas' confession, that Dean reciprocates.

To me, when I was (binge) watching s12 for the first time, I thought damn this is really got a lot of DeanCas. So I went to look at who was in charge, who was writing. I saw Andrew Dabb, associated him with Deancas episodes, saw all the new writers, Bobo, and then I saw that Yockey is known for same sex stories and it clicked. Dabb assembled a team to give us Destiel. THAT WAS IN SEASON 12!!!!!!!!

The amount of people saying he's homophobic flabbergast me. Open your eyes! That isn't what's going on.

Imagine making a show and trying to right all the wrongs of Supernatural. Imagine trying to write the greatest love story ever told and you have the entire season planned out for it to end off beautifully, it may possibly be your greatest achievement when it's done and then boom. someone comes in and tells you you aren't allowed to make Dean bi or make destiel endgame, after he was most probably already given the go ahead.

Sure. You could imply he's bi or into cas still in a way. Still make nice-ish ending. just give everyone what the kinda want.

Or you could scrap the last season, nothing close to a canonical bisexual Dean Winchester or Deancas endgame in site. People can be done with it be happy with the show, continue to live their lives in ignorance as to how close they were to Canon destiel.

OR you can lead everyone to the very closest you can get them to what you were aiming for and then show everyone the ugly truth and reality. Light it all on fire. Burn the show to the ground in your wake. Try your darnedest to making these people's (the people saying no) pockets suffer. Show us, the audience, what happened. Show us what this show really is.

I've seen people talk about the ending being changed during covid but I dont think that happened. I think what happened was Dabb already had this season planned out before it even started. Obviously the details were wobbly but it was all lead up to this ending. Destiel endgame, Canon Bisexual Dean, whatever it was. They were ready to write the greatest love story ever told and then someone shut it down.

Imagine the pain that must have caused them to be told no when they already said yes. They must have been so excited to give this to us.

I think someone (some producers) told him what this show is "really" about. The brothers. Can you imagine, after being told no, some kinda bullshit like this is said to you: "Why aren't you bringing it back to the brothers, Andrew? that's what the shows about. What with all this homosexual stuff, you know the audience won't like that. Not really." Imagine the original producers pushing this kind of view on you. "You know when we started it was Sam and Dean. It should end with Sam and Dean." That kinda sounds like someone huh? huh.

So why give us a nice acceptable finale, when you can take every problem Supernatural's had either up front or behind the scenes and create a finale so incredibly bad that people don't want to watch it anymore.

Someone made a good point about how Sam was originally supposed to be the main focus (this isn't to put any hate on Sam or Jared). Dean and Sam are the main characters but Sam was supposed to be the focus and for Dean to have become the focus, must have annoyed the producers because... well here we are. They wouldn't listen to Jensen. The producers liked this ending. Jensen's opinion didn't matter to them.

In some ways, if this is really what happened, it can be seen as childish from Dabb. To hurt all of us like that. Yes, he's hurting the producers, the execs, the cw. But to hurt us? Yeah it stings.

But in other ways, if this is really what happened, this is Dabb showing us the muck and gunk under the shiny surface. The hate for Misha. The hidden hate for Jensen. The underlying sexism. The underlying homophobia. The people REALLY in charge don't care about us, they just want our money. He needed to open our eyes and free us, at least free the people that he was writing for. The people he sees that care about this show.

This is the ending the powers that be wanted and its a big fuck you for a reason. I dont think this is Dabb spitting in our faces for loving this show, I think this is him trying to get revenge for us.

But from here, you can see it how u want it. If this is really what happened, I'm not in charge of your emotions, if you wanna be mad be mad if you wanna be grateful be grateful. And you don't have to believe me either I said this is speculation.

Also, as for all of the rumors like there being shots to the confession scene that we didn't see, which Jensen himself implied, I think that might have been a last ditch effort to canonized DeanCas but obviously it was cut. Like the name change was pretty clear. As for Misha possibly having shot some stuff for 20 I dont know what to tell you. If it's true I dont know where the blame would lie.

I do think however, that if all this was the case, the writers were prepared to become villians here. I mean they told us the writers were villians with Chuck right? So. Who knows what went down so they could give us such a vile ending. It could've been the producers or the writers, who truly knows. I do think tho that people we "trust" did some pretty shitty things to push the narrative in certain directions so now one would see this as the actual ending that was coming.

So again do with my SPECULATION what you will. This was in no way meant to put Dabb on a pedestal or anything. Just meant to give a bit of perspective.

(Also Jensen didn't unfollow Dabb recently he was already unfollowed for years)

#15x20 wank #spn finale wank #spn finale meta #15x20 meta #Andrew Dabb #spn #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #deancas #misha collins #jensen ackles #long post #sorry im on mobile #this is the longest post i have ever writen

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moronic-validity · 3 years

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The Vincent Sinclair’s Boot x Reader Fic

okay so a few notes!

1) Reader is a trans guy (like your’s truly)

2) This is smut for the sake of smut, plain and simple.

3) I finished this at 2:30am and I have to be at work at 8.

This Contains: dubcon/coerced consent, drugs, bdsm, dom vincent, a boot kink, typos, almost murder, masturbation, and car problems! Everything under the cut is 18+!!!

As the temperature gauge crept higher and higher, [y/n] had to kick himself. He had been told to check his oil periodically through the road trip, but more than that, he had always been told to keep an extra thing of 5-20 in his car. Both pieces of advice went in one ear and out the other.

Which left him here, in the middle of nowhere Louisiana, 30 miles shy of Baton Rouge.

The immediate reaction was to get out of his car and scream. Sure, it was near midnight, but there wasn’t anyone nearby, so what was the worst thing that could happen. The flash of headlights on him and his car answered his question.

Great. Fantastic. Cool.

“Hey, sorry about the yelling,” he called out in the general direction of the headlights. “Any chance you have some 5-20, I’ll be right out of here if you do!”

No response. [y/n] sighed and sat on the hood of his car and watched the car. It was the middle of the night and it was still hotter than hell and humid to match. Without giving it much thought, he pulled his t shirt over his head and sat it on the hood next to him. What did it matter, he had a binder on anyway. Not like anything was showing.

The mystery driver flashed his brights at [y/n], then threw it in reverse and went back to where he came from.

Well that’s fantastic. I’m in the middle of nowhere and someone knows I’m stranded here. Perfect.

Without giving any more thought to it, he got back into his car and went to sleep, his t shirt thrown over his eyes.

The sun didn’t wake him up, the tapping on his window did.

[y/n] scrambled into an acceptable position and pulled his still damp t shirt on. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he was able to see the man standing near his window. The man wasn’t intimidating or anything, but the situation was odd and [y/n] was immediately warry.

“Sorry ‘bout that, didn mean to startle ya or nothin,” The man with the green hat said with a small laugh, “it just looked like ya might need some help, most people don like sleepin in their car this time a year.”

[y/n] squinted at the guy. It wasn’t due to the accent or the look of him, the sun just happened to be right in his eyes. The perfect start to another fantastic day.

“Uh yeah, I’ve definitely had better days. Any chance you know where to get a quart or two of oil?” He asked, ending it with a still tired yawn.

“I could give ya a lift into town, ‘m sure Bo will help you out at the station,” The green hatted man offered helpfully.

“Actually, that’d be wonderful, thank you…” [y/n] realized that he just accepted a ride from a man who’s name he didn’t even know. His mother would be so proud.

“Lester, Lester Sinclair,” Lester said with an extended hand.

“[y/n], [y/n] [l/n]” He took the other’s hand and gave a firm shake. [y/n] was acutely aware of the tacky reddish-brown smudge that was now on his hand.

The ride into town was quite, aside from the rumble of Lester’s truck and the sound of tires throwing rock.

“So where’re you headed?” Lester asked, glancing over at [y/n].

“Ah, no direction, wanted to go up, down, coast to coast. Want to see a little bit of everything, I guess,” [y/n] picked at the skin around his index finger, “I’ve only broken down once, so I figure I’m doing okay.”

“Welcome to Ambrose, I know it probably isn where ya wanted t’ go, but there are worse places.” Lester said cheerfully.

The ride went back to being quiet.

“Oh shit,” Lester whined, more to himself than anything else, as he threw the car in park and jumped out, “ya wouldn’ mind givin me a hand flipping the hubs, would ya?”

What the hell does that even mean? {y/n] thought to himself as he hopped out of the car to help Lester with the task anyway. Help was a bit of a strong word for what [y/n] did, it was more get in the way and offer moral support. Lester appreciated the gesture and the company. Most people jumped out of the car and fled into town by this point.

The two got back into the truck and drove right on into Ambrose and parked in front of the service station.

“Now, you wait here, Bo ‘ll be ‘round soon,” Lester dropped [y/n] off with a wave then drove off to wherever he worked. It occurred to [y/n] that he never thought to ask.

It also occurred to [y/n] that he’d have to walk back to his car or hope that someone in town would be willing to give him a ride. Just one more thing. He sighed and sat with his back against the wall of the station.

At least there’s shade. It’s already starting to feel like the devil’s armpit, but at least there is shade.

Time passed, could’ve been hours, could’ve been minutes.

No, it was definitely hours.

Around the point [y/n] was sure that this Bo guy would have to pry him off the cement with a spatula, Bo happened to come down the road and up to the door of the station, near where he was sitting. Bo stood within arm’s distance as [y/n] pushed himself up off the sidewalk.

“I take it you’re Bo? [Y/n] [l/n], Lester said you might have some oil?” [y/n] offered the man he assumed to be Bo his hand. Bo flashed [y/n] a smile that seemed to try to hard to be charming.

“Well, I’d introduce myself but you already know who I am,” Bo chuckled. He was in a suit and tie, didn’t seem like he was dressed for his line of work. “ Let’s see if we can’t get you back on the road, hm?” He hummed to himself as he unlocked the door to let the two men into the store.

There was no AC, and that was the first problem [y/n] had with the station. The second problem was that there appeared to be no oil. Anywhere.

What type of station doesn’t carry oil. Oil. OIL. Walmart carries oil, DG carries oil. Why does this man not have oil.

“Uh….Hey Bo, any chance you have some oil in the garage that you’re willing to part with?” [y/n] asked, while squatting and looking at another shelf devoid of oil.

“I’m sure I could check,” Bo said, his voice drifting further away. [y/n] kept looking.

“So I’ve got some bad news, I don’t have any oil down here;” ,” Bo said as he re-entered the store, wiping his hands down on a grease rag, “Good news though, I got my restock shipment in yesterday and just haven’t gotten around to bringing it down from the house. I’m more than willing to let you wait here while I go up to to get what you need, but you look like you need something to drink.”

[y/n] thought it over. This would mark the second time in less than 24 hours that he went somewhere with a random stranger, but at least this time he knew the guy’s name.

Well, the south is known for its hospitality, so I might as well go and get something to drink.

“I’d really appreciate something to drink and thank you so much for the help,” [y/n] said, suddenly aware that his mouth felt like it was full of glue.

The pair were about halfway to the house, when [y/n] finally felt the need to ask about the suit.

“Okay so, I know it’s absolutely none of my business, but why are you wearing a suit? Isn’t it a bit hot for that?” Bo stopped moving at [y/n]’s question and seemed to consider a few possible answers before he nodded to himself and kept walking.

“Well, it’s not the heat that gets you, it’s the humidity,” he chuckled to himself, “and uh,” he paused to clear his throat, “My mom passed on, was at her service.”

“Bo, I am so sorry. If you don’t mind, I’ll be sure to pay my respects before I leave town,” [y/n] couldn’t help but feel intense sympathy for Bo.

He left his mom’s funeral to help me get some oil so I can get back on the road. Holy shit.

They walked in silence for the rest of the day, [y/n] was unsure how to comfort this stranger, so he just followed the other man’s lead. Silence.

Bo unlocked the door when they got up on the step and lead [y/n] into the house.

“Washroom is down the hall if you need it, the door should be open,” Bo motioned towards the washroom, “Make yourself at home.”

With that, Bo was in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of sweet tea. [y/n] decided to take Bo up on his offer of a washroom. Once the door was shut, he fought with his binder for a minute, before finally getting it off his chest, letting it hang loosely around his neck. At this point, it just felt good to take a few deep breaths. After a few minutes passed, [y/n] pulled his binder back into place, swore he’d keep it off until he hit the next rest stop, then went back out into the house and met Bo in the kitchen.

Bo handed [y/n] the glass of sweet tea, condensation already beading on the sides. Nice and cold and incredibly sweet, it even tasted southern. And a bit salty. [y/n] had never had homemade sweet tea before, so he assumed that maybe that just happened sometimes with the tea when it cooled.

The room started to sway.

“Hey, [y/n] maybe you should sit down, looks like the heat is getting to you,” Bo said, worry in his voice, but a smile on his lips, “maybe you ought to lay down for a bit.”

Not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all.

That was weird, he tried to say it out loud, but his mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Bo helped [y/n] to sit on the couch and as his vision started to darken, [y/n] swore he saw another person enter the room.

When [y/n] came to, he realized a few things in short order. It was much darker, he was not on the couch, and he was restrained to the metal table he way laying on. Ever the optimist, he was thankful for the fact that he still had his clothes on and also for the fact it was much cooler wherever he was.

A tall man with long dark hair entered his line of sight. [y/n] had a few ideas of things to yell at him, but instead, took a different approach.

“So, either I’ve been asleep for a really long time, or you’re not Bo,” [y/n] said, turning his head to get a better look at the man. The man’s shoulders shook, like he was laughing without the noise.

Okay so he can’t talk. Noted.

The man turned around to face the table and made sure his hands were in clear view as he signed, “Vincent.”

The motions were smooth and [y/n] caught it near immediately.

“Vincent is a nice name,” he mused, giving Vincent a charming smile of his own, “I’m [y/n]. Now, I do have a few questions, mainly, why am I tied up?”

Vincent turned his back on [y/n] and went back to preparing the paralytic, deciding to make it a bit stronger so the man on the table wouldn’t have to be awake for the worst of it. When he turned around and [y/n] saw the needle, the reality of the situation began to sink in and things snapped into focus.

“Hey Vincent, I don’t know what’s in that needle, but I promise you don’t have to do whatever it is you’re about to do,” [y/n] tried to keep his voice level as he squirmed and fought against the restraints, “I know we don’t know each other, but I swear you don’t need to do this.”

Vincent watched him writhe on the table and considered his options.

“Please, can we talk this out, please,” [y/n] continued to beg, tears forming in the corners of his eyes and bruises already forming at both his wrists and his ankles from the jerking around. Desperation in one hell of a drug, because in no other situation could [y/n] see himself saying, “I’ll do anything to convince you.”

Vincent set the syringe back down and walked up to the head of the table and gripped [y/n]’s jaw and turned his head to make sure he saw when he signed “Are you sure?” he drew it out to emphasize the importance of the question.

Was [y/n] sure? No. No he wasn’t, but he wasn’t in a place that allowed many options. Behind door one? Death! Behind door two? A questionable fate that could very well still end in death!

Yeah, I’ll go with door number two, please.

[y/n] nodded, Vincent’s hand still not leaving his jaw.

Vincent considered the situation for a moment. He considered the number of girls that Bo had brought to him after he had had his way with them at the station. Girls had never really been Vincent’s speed. There were plenty of attractive guys who had come through, but mostly they were either already dead or just spit curses at him. [y/n] was different. No threats, no insults, he was shockingly calm, all things considered. Vincent stroked up and down the side of [y/n]’s face, bringing his hand into the smaller man’s hair and pulling, eliciting a soft whimper.

“I want you to show me,” Vincent signed before undoing the restraints at [y/n]’s ankles. As for his hands? His hands were going to stay bound, but a change of position was still needed. Vincent kept eye contact with [y/n] as he undid his wrists.

[y/n] sat up on the table, moving slowly as to not startle Vincent. The last thing he wanted was to scare the guy who probably had a half dozen ways to kill him in arms reach. His wrists ached and were bleeding in some places. He rubbed at his sore joints before Vincent snapped his fingers, pointed directly at him, then down at the floor near his boot clad feet.

[y/n] had the opportunity to make a run for it, but instead knelt at Vincent’s feet. Vincent put his hand out and without thinking, [y/n] rested the side of his face against it. Vincent’s face burned beneath his mask, that was not what he needed the man to do. He pulled his hand away and gently slapped at the kneeling man’s face, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for him to know that that was not the desired action. The kneeling man was a quick learner and when Vincent put his hand out again, he reluctantly placed his wrists in the larger man’s hands.

[y/n] was not thrilled at this situation, but he was also a simple man, and for all the terror in the situation, Vincent was a large man with shockingly soft hands that were big enough to envelop both of his wrists, who had complete control over the situation. Should he be getting wet due to the situation? Absolutely not, but in the one psychology class he took in high school, it was mentioned that fear and arousal were close together in the brain.

Vincent saw the bruising and blood on the smaller man’s wrists and was careful when he rebound them. Sure, he was planning on killing the guy, but his plans had changed. He threaded a rope and carefully suspended his wrists so that his wrists would remain above his head.

[y/n]’s first thought was that Vincent wanted head. Most guys he had met enjoyed getting head, so it did make sense. He carefully pressed his cheek against the man’s crotch and nuzzled against it, then looked up and into Vincent’s eyes for any sign. Instead, Vincent just lifted his knee and pushed [y/n] off of him like he was a disobedient dog.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as to what he wanted, if not a blow job. He was further confused when Vincent lifted his boot clad foot and pressed it into the smaller man’s pelvic bone, hard.

Oh.

The pressure of it was enough to lift him up just a little bit more and it had him wetter than he thought he could be in a situation like this. He pressed down onto the shoe and began to grind against it, shamelessly chasing the friction it created.

Vincent groaned. His cock twitched as he watched the man’s lewd display. He didn’t want [y/n] to touch him, not yet. There was still the chance that could go horribly wrong, what Vincent wanted was to see exactly how desperate the man was. Vincent began to palm himself, stroking through the fabric of his pants while he watched.

The answer was very. [y/n] was very desperate. [y/n] was desperate not to die and now, now he was also desperate to cum. He pressed himself harder against the toe of Vincent’s boot and rutted against it, groaning loudly when it pressed up against that bundle of nerves. He began to fall into a rhythm that hit every sensitive spot he could reach.

Vincent’s hand was now in his pants as he stroked himself to the same rhythm [y/n] was fucking himself to. God, Vincent thought to himself, this man was making an absolute whore of himself. It might not be a bad idea to keep him around. Could make work slightly less taxing. Then the bound man made a sound that snapped Vincent out of his thoughts and almost made him cream his pants.

He was getting so close, he had thrown himself so into chasing his high that he almost forgot that the circumstances that brought him to this were less than desirable. He pressed began to rotate his hips so that bundle of nerves caught significantly more pressure and more friction. He let out a loud, needy whine.

“Please Vincent, please tell me I can cum, I’ve been such a good boy, please God, Vincent,” the words came tumbling out of his mouth, he was babbling and begging for a different release now. Vincent bucked into his own hand, listening to the whines and pleas.

Tears were starting to form in [y/n]’s eyes again, he was trying so hard to be good for Vincent, trying so hard to be his good boy. Sure, less than an hour ago, he wanted nothing more than to be as far from him as possible, but God, he was so close to cumming and he just needed Vincent to tell him he had been good. Hadn’t he been good enough to deserve release?

Vincent pressed his crotch against [y/n]’s face and continued to jack himself off. He didn’t want the man’s mouth, but he wanted the proximity. He was so close to his own release. So so close, all he needed was-

“Oh GOD, sir please, I’ve been so good for you, please sir. Tell me I’ve been a good boy for you, tell me I’m your good boy, please sir; oh my God, please, please,” [y/n] continued to babble, now crying for release against Vincent’s aching cock.

Yeah, that just about did it for him. Vincent’s orgasm took him hard and left a sizable stain that leaked into the front of his pants and against the begging man’s face. Vincent closed his eyes, lost in his own release. When things snapped back into focus, he realized the other man was still whining pitifully, still having not came.

Vincent had to admit, he was impressed at the man’s willpower, it was oddly attractive to him that the man refused to grant himself pleasure without permission. This could actually work out wonderfully, Vincent thought to himself.

He took the rope in his free hand and yanked on it hard enough to knock the [y/n] off balance. He looked up at Vincent as he tried to regain balance. Vincent let go of the rope and let him drop onto his knees, but his eyes were still locked on his masked face.

Vincent thought about it for a moment before signing “I want you to cum.”

That was all [y/n] needed to hear before going back to rutting against the shoe, quickly going over the edge and coating the toe of the boot in his fluids. He braced himself against Vincent’s leg, mumbling thank yous as he came back down. Vincent allowed this to go on for a short while, before cutting the rope and pressing [y/n]’s face down to the still wet boot.

Vincent used one hand to yank [y/n]’s hair to make the blissed out man look up at him, with the other hand, he calmly signed “Clean it up.”

#slasher fucker #vincent's boots #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent x reader #house of wax #nsft #I haven't written a fanfic in years #fanfic #theo writes #theo's thoughts #teddy talks #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #sinclair brothers

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6knotty6thotty6 · 4 years

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So a couple of months ago, I saw a YouTube video that was an audio recording of season 5, episode 6 of Bojack Horseman, “Free Churro.” In the episode, the main character, Bojack Horseman, spends 20 minutes giving a eulogy at his mother’s funeral. There’s one big problem though, his mother was an abusive bitch. His eulogy is him trying to contemplate what she meant by her drying words, “I see you,” and whether or not she loved him. As someone who has a dead parent who was abusive, this is probably my favorite episode of any show ever for how much it helped me understand my feelings. The comments section is filled with people sharing their pain with their abusive families, but one comment stood out to me above all the others by how raw and relatable it was. This comment was by a YouTuber named Moonstruck. At the bottom of this post is a link to her channel. Please support her. After reading this, she deserves a million subscribers. Also please watch Bojack Horseman. (I corrected some of the grammatical errors to make it easier to read)

Disclaimer: Child abuse, bullying, trauma, and mental health:

Moonstruck:

This is a great monologue, but one part of it, in particular, really caught my attention was the 'grand gesture' bit.

When I was a kid, I read this book called "Chicken Soup for the Soul." There's a shitload of them. I don't remember which particular one it was. I hated the whole series because it's just someone profiting off a bunch of other people's stories rather than trying to write their own, in my opinion.

Anyway.

This one story that I remember, the ONLY one I remembered, was sent in by a little girl. She wrote about how her father never told her that he loved her. He never once, in her whole life, said the words "I love you." I don't remember her mom being mentioned, maybe she was dead; it doesn't matter. The point is her dad was basically an emotionless asshole. Well, one day, this girl gets sick. Really sick. Possibly on her deathbed sick. She wrote that one day she woke up to find a necklace sitting on her nightstand that had a pendant that looked like her dog. She said she held it to her heart and cried because that necklace said all the things her father never had.

I thought, "What a load of bullshit."

A cheap trinket doesn't make up for years and years of emotional neglect. Anyone can buy a thing and toss it your way. Hell, he didn't even hand it to her himself, just left it there for her to find if/when she woke up, then left her alone again to possibly die.

A lot of people say that actions speak louder than words, in cases like political protests and shit. While that's true, scenarios that this that girl are different. Gifts can never replace the words, "I love you."

When I was a kid, my father never told me he loved me. My mother didn't either, but she's a whole other kettle of fish. I would say 'my biological mother or father,' but I never got adopted ones, so who gives a shit. Anyway. My father was rarely around, and when he was, he just spent the entire time fighting with my mother and leaving again. He would do and say anything that could get him to spend less time in the house with her. With us. I can't blame him. If I could've left during those times, I would have. I tried more than once. I even earned the nickname 'runaway' from a family friend because of it.

I was told that I was worthless as early as I could understand words. I don't know what it is about me that set my mother off, but she HATED me. I was always told how expensive I was to keep alive and how I wasn't worth it. If I dared ask for anything, she would remind me how much she spent just to keep me from starving to death and that it was too much already. On the rare occasion I was given something, it was so she could use it as a threat. She was like, "Sure, you can have that toy horse since we got your sister a real one, but you better behave or we'll give it to her and let her break it." Or "Oh, fine, we can keep this dog as a FAMILY pet (NOT YOURS), but if you do something we don't like, we'll take it away and kill it."

Oh, yeah. I have a sister. She’s cut from the same cloth as our mother. I don't consider any of them family anymore. She was two years older than me. She was the "we should have stopped while we were ahead" kid. Anything she wanted, she got.

"Mom, can I have an award-winning horse and expensive dressage lessons?"

"Sure!"

"Mom, can I have a car?"

"No problem!"

"Mom, can you pay for my ballet lessons?"

"Absolutely!"

She was the golden child. The one that could do no wrong and wasn't a mistake. Even after she totaled her car, got arrested for an underage DUI, and got pregnant three times in high school, she was still the good one. I never even asked to go to school dances, parties, or go out with the one friend I had. My sister liked to see me in pain. She'd tell our mom that I did things just to get me in trouble. Whether it involved blaming me for things she did or fabricating stuff, she'd say whatever it took to get my mother to beat me while she watched and laughed. Oh, yeah, our mom was BIG on physical punishment. I've been whipped with everything from a riding crop, a wooden paddle, spoons, and especially belts. Anything that was close at hand when my mother got irritated, I've been hit with it.

At one point, my sister had three tall, beautiful show-worthy horses. I was allowed to keep a sickly old pony for all of a week before she was taken away, then I'd get called ungrateful for asking why we had to get rid of HER instead of one of the horses. Even though my mother said it cost too much to keep them all. With horses being obviously too rich for my blood, I asked for something cheaper, and for once, I got it. I was given a baby goat that one of our neighbors' goats had abandoned for being too weak, and they didn't have time to raise. I loved that goat. I bottle raised him, and named him Ben. He was my best friend for a while. When he grew up, he got so big that I was able to stand on his back to grab tree branches and pull them down so he could eat the leaves. I walked him on a leash like a dog every day. I loved him so much. My mother had me enter him in a show, and we won ninth place! I was thrilled to have something to show against my sister's collection of dressage show ribbons. I finally had proof that I could do something right! Sure, the prize money was taken away from me, but I still had Ben.

But Ben didn't come home with me after the show. It turns out he was sold to a slaughterhouse because that show was for meat goats. I didn't know until he was already gone. Of course, my mother punished me for being upset and even forced me to write a thank-you card to the people who bought his meat.

My mother was always like that. Anything I loved was used as a threat. I eventually accepted that loving anything was a waste of time. I learned to detach myself from my feelings, and I got really good at it. I can completely turn off my emotional reaction to anything. One time I had to put down one of the egg-laying hens at work that got too sick to save, and I felt nothing while bringing down the ax. When I lost out on a job that could have changed my life, I told myself how stupid it was to hope for anything good. Any positive emotion I felt got me punished, so I learned to feel nothing at all. To this day, I still have trouble feeling things, even when I want to. I'm taking pills now, and they help, sometimes.

I've had several suicide attempts. I keep a box of razor blades in my desk just to have them close. I got a tattoo of a heart with rainbows on my wrist. Partially for LGBT solidarity, but mostly to remind myself that there is still beauty in the world. I still struggle with wonder if I actually believe it or not.

I've tried so hard to be a good kid. I never partied, never drank, never smoked even when the chances were there, and I would have greatly loved anything to make the pain stop or even just dull it a little bit. I was in the gifted and talented program at school and was able to graduate at fifteen. For a while, I was sent to a children's home where I was passed around to many people I didn't know, including a clown who I may or may not have actually been related to, until I eventually wound up out here where I am now. It's all pretty hazy, and the details get scrambled.

It's been 10 years since I've had contact with my mother and sister. I can't even keep in touch with the one friend I had, even after I lived with her. She's tried to reach out to me, but I just… can't. I try, but I can't. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that my past wasn't real. It's just a hazy fog that isn't really there. I want to believe that if I don't allow something, or someone, who was part of that past, someone tangible and real, into my life again, then the fog will go away. This is why I can't do it. I know I'm a terrible friend. Ariel, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. You're better off without me in your life anyway.

I typed all of this out because sometimes, about fifty dollars or so shows up in my PayPal from my father's email address. I don't know if it's from him or from her using his email, but it doesn't matter either way. The point is I know my mother is the one sending the money.

I know my mother likes to think she's a good person. She went to church every Sunday, and probably still does. She organized a lot of church events and participated in every church function. I had to be an altar server for several years until I aged out of it and was in the choir. She kept going to that church even after the priest got drunk, called me many horrible names in front of everyone, and was revealed to be a pedophile that raped a little boy at gunpoint. She probably still goes to that same church and organizes things. She likes being in charge. She likes having people look at her and say, "That there is a good person."

But are you, though, Mom? Are you really a good person? Were you a good person when you hit me? When you lied to me? When you laughed with my sister about how much I got hurt for things I didn't do? Were you a good person every time you told me you'd kill my cat or leave my dog at the pound? Were you a good person when you sold Ben to be eaten, knowing that I loved him? Were you a good person when you made me read "A child called It" and told me that you'd start doing the things in that book to me if I didn't behave? Were you a good person every time you told my father I was a liar whenever I tried to tell him what you were doing to me? Were you a good person when you told me I wasn't worth the cost of being alive? Were you?

Fuck you, Mom! Keep your fucking money! A necklace on the nightstand isn't enough. A trinket can't heal years and years and years of abuse and hurt. You can't hide these scars under dollar bills. I hope you die alone. I know I probably will, but I don't even care anymore. I lost the ability to care thanks to you. You can't make up for the things you did and the things you didn't say now. Too little, too late!

#child abuse #abuse #domestic abuse #family #survivor #YouTube #bojack horseman #forgive #mom #mother #friend #friends #story #personal #chicken soup for the soul #free churro #monolouge #father #dad

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sunshinejins · 4 years

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if i was dying on my knees (you’d be the one to rescue me)

(title from brother by kodaline)

so, hi! jatp has reignited my desire to write again and this time i think i might actually finish a whole fic. so uh, here it is :) please let me know if you like it, I’ll hopefully update asap, but i’m in uni so asap may be in like two weeks. unless people really like it. then, probably sooner lmao.

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

warnings: death bc rose, and i swear once but other than that i think nothing else?

Julie didn’t want to be frustrated, she really didn’t. In fact, she wanted to be sad, mourning, depressed, or literally anything other than slightly pissed off all the time. It’s incredibly exhausting to be angry all the time, and she felt like being sad would at least give her blood a break from simmering.

But her mom died. And apparently her body only knows how to process grief by developing a rather annoying tendency to be irritated constantly.

She tries to forget it though. Instead of wallowing in the negative feelings that cloud her family in the months following Rose Molina’s death, she throws herself into distractions. She gets a job at a coffee shop near the USC campus and puts almost all her effort into becoming a top employee. Her grades don’t drop because thankfully her professors seemed to all inherently understand that she just couldn’t sing anymore. Like at all.

The world kept spinning. Julie could only hope to hold on.

That’s how she ended up, six months later, complaining over a milk frother about her very well-intentioned best friend to the only person she knew would listen.

“Flynn just doesn’t understand,” Julie moans, shutting off the machine and dumping the contents unceremoniously into a to-go cup. Her coworker, Allison, raises an eyebrow and swipes a rag at the milk spill that pools under the cup.

“Did she try to get you to sing again?”

“Surprise karaoke night with her girlfriend and a couple kids from class. Her intentions were pure though so I don’t even know why I’m upset.” Julie shoves a lid onto the cup and slides it across the counter to a pre-occupied businessman who doesn’t notice the extra milk soaked into the bottom. Allison nods thoughtfully and starts dumping coffee beans into the espresso machine. Julie watches her with slight awe. Allison was one of those people that terrified Julie when she met her; everything about her felt polished and put together down to the blunt cut of her pale blonde hair and the curve of her smirk when she smiled. Soon enough, Julie discovered that she was as warm as any of her other friends, but it had taken a lot of closing shifts and smoothie runs to come to that conclusion.

Allison sets down the bag of coffee beans and gives Julie one of her solemn looks; it’s the sort of look where Julie thinks Allison could probably read her mind if she tried hard enough.

“Maybe they’re going about it wrong. You haven’t been around music properly in what? A year? What if you just need to sit and listen to music again to just get you used to the environment?” Julie thinks for a moment. Allison raises a fair point, and it’s the complete opposite tactic that everyone else has been trying, which has been to shove music in front of her to sing and give her expectant and hopeful looks. It’s a trial run. Something casual.

“Where would I go?” Allison smiles a bit and passes Julie a container of oat milk to put away.

“There’s a bar off Sunset that’s hosting an open mic tonight. Very relaxed and casual vibes. I could pick you up from your apartment and take you. We haven’t hung out since that movie night a while ago.” Julie hesitates. It’s not that she’s opposed to spending a night with Allison, but a small part of her feels like she’s cheating on her current circle of emotional support humans by agreeing to go. Not that her dad or Carlos or Tia would mind, but Flynn would possibly take offence and that alone stalled Julie for longer than she realized. Allison clocks the look on her face and amends the statement.

“Flynn is obviously welcome too.”

A mind reader, Julie swears.

“Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

***

Julie’s feeling significantly less optimistic when Allison’s car has been driven away by the valet and herself, Flynn, and Allison are all standing in line outside the club. Julie can feel the bass of the songs playing more than she can hear them, but the proximity of music is enough to make her palms sweat. Other than the music the coffee shop plays and the strains of country she hears through Carlos’ wall, Julie hasn’t heard proper music since Tia Victoria sang “Amazing Grace” for her mother’s funeral. Flynn notices her nervous look.

“Chill, Jules. It’s all very chill. We’re just gonna listen to a couple bands.”

“Flynn’s right. And if at any point you want to bail, we can go get soft pretzels.”

“But we should try and stay for the whole thing!”

“However, we’re also going to respect you if you can’t do that,” Allison punctuates this sentence with a meaningful eyebrow raise and Flynn nods vigorously. Julie swallows and tries to mimic the courage she had a few hours ago. The bartender scrutinizes their IDs for a moment before allowing them to sweep into the bar and Julie’s jaw nearly drops at the volume of people contained inside. Nearly every seat is filled, and the standing areas are packed with people all jamming to the band onstage that’s currently playing what Julie has to admit is a pretty kick ass cover of “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers.

Allison somehow discovers a table near the edge of the bar, and disappears off to get them drinks. Flynn’s rocking out already, and Julie feels a few of the nerves in her stomach even out as the realization that she doesn’t have to sing sinks into her bones. Allison was right, unsurprisingly. If she focuses hard enough, she can even push out the memories of coming to these sorts of open nights with her mom. Flynn shoots her a large and grateful grin and Julie lets herself smile back. She’s taking a step. She’s doing it.

Allison returns as the band switches and a new band begins to play a hyped up cover of “Africa” by Toto. The three girls lapse into quiet appreciation of the music, with Flynn singing along to every song played, Allison bobbing her head to herself and occasionally letting out a few notes in her vocal range, and Julie just quietly appreciating the fact that she doesn’t feel like throwing up.

It’s all very casual, just like her friends said.

Until it’s not.

As the third band of the night begins their last song, Julie retreats to find the bathroom. It’s hidden nearly backstage, and she’s just about to make it to the door when she hears the panicked shouts of someone from near the curtain which separates the small backstage from the actual performing area.

“Dude, I cannot believe he bailed on us.”

“Are you really surprised? Bobby was a piece of shit.”

“Hey, he didn’t use to be!”

“Calm down, Reg. You know he’s been treating us like garbage ever since that record label thought he had a ‘marketable voice’ or whatever they said.”

“Guys he bailed on us, what are we supposed to do?”

Julie, despite all the “stranger danger” lessons running through her brain, backed up far enough to see into the backstage area. Three guys stood there, two with a guitar and a bass each and one with drumsticks he was nervously twirling. The one with the guitar had his face buried in his hands and kept swearing heavily under his breath. The other two seemed frozen in their own panic as well. Guitar Player removed his hands from his face and Julie caught a glimpse of worried hazel eyes and dark curls. Bass Player opened his arms and Guitar Player tumbled into them for a hug while Drum Player rubbed his back. The three guys looked absolutely wrecked.

Here’s the thing: Julie had an uncontrollable urge to help people. It’s how she got roped into half of Flynn’s schemes, how she ended up teaching Carlos all of his second grade science curriculum herself, and how she somehow became the unofficial backbone of her family after her mom died. Seeing three guys utterly wrecked because, presumably, their fourth bandmate had bailed on them? It activated that uncontrollable urge deep in her stomach.

Here’s another thing: Julie hasn’t played music or sang in six months. She’s had no desire to, and every time she’s tried, the distinct urge to throw up overtook her. Tonight was supposed to be the baby step that showed her whether or not music was something she could seriously consider again; whether or not she could feel that itch to perform anymore.

“Hey, do you guys need a fourth?”

She felt the itch.

The three guys looked up in varying levels of shock. Drum Player recovered first, and stepped towards her hesitantly, wringing his pink hoodie as he did.

“Um, what?”

“It sounded like someone bailed on you. I can play. If you need it.” Guitar Player recovers next and nearly bounds over to her in barely contained excitement.

“You can play rhythm guitar?”

“No,” the three boys deflate, “I can play piano though.” Guitar Player tilts his head to the side as though playing a melody through in his head. He turns back to the other two.

“Bright could fit piano.”

“We never wrote the music for a piano component,” Drum Player wrinkles his nose.

“I did,” Guitar Player admits. The other two don’t look phased, though Bass Player does raise an eyebrow. “I was bored!”

“Okay, but we don’t want to put you out,” Drum Player turns back to Julie and she swallows.

“No, I offered. Let me see the music.”

“Okay, but you have like ten minutes!” Bass Player finally chips in with a surprisingly cheerful tone. Guitar Player hands Julie what looks like a piece of notebook paper and her eyes skim the words and notes. It’s feasible for sure, but she can feel the nerves prickling at her stomach. Guitar Player leans into her space and she clocks how ridiculously attractive he is up close. He gives her a smile.

“We alternative verses like this, see? And I don’t know your range, but we can figure that out on the go.” Julie gives him a small smile.

“Somewhere between mezzo-soprano and soprano.”

“We can work with that.” Guitar Player seems to vibrate with energy. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“No pressure,” Bass Player adds.

“Like seriously, none. We can just go home and cry,” Drum Player says. Julie isn’t sure. She really isn’t. In fact, she’s pretty sure she should just run away and hope she never sees these guys again.

“I’m sure.”

Well, that’s that.

Guitar Player sends her a smile that looks genuinely like someone has funnelled sunlight into his body and Julie feels the nerves lift for half a second. Then, they’re called to the stage and all of a sudden she feels like she could puke all over again. Guitar Player grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“You got this.”

Julie files out with the rest of the band and she’s extremely grateful her friends aren’t sitting in her direct line of sight. The piano is definitely worn out from use, but her fingers settle naturally on the keys and Julie tries to focus on the budding itch to perform in her stomach rather than the urge to throw up. She’s supposed to start this song. This song that she became aware of ten minutes earlier. She catches Guitar Player’s eye and he nods encouragingly.

She presses down on the keys and opens her mouth.

Sometimes I think I'm falling down

I wanna cry, I'm calling out

For one more try to feel alive

And when I feel lost and alone

I know that I can make it home

Fight through the dark and find the spark

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #julie x luke #julie molina x luke patterson #juke #jukebox #jukebox fanfiction #juke fanfiction #julie x luke fanfiction #reggie peters #alex mercer #jatp #my writing #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #can i possibly tag this with anything else??? idk

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thelittlestcheshire · 3 years

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Self Para 008: I Don’t Pretend to Know the Challenges You’re Facing Word Count: 2024 words When: July 2020, in the early hours of July 19th during Ches’s birthday trip Note: I decided I’m going to queue up and post one of the old self paras I never posted, Feel free to skip it, since it’s a past event and stuff. TWs: Rape (mentioned / discussed), Anxiety Attacks, Alcoholism / Drinking, Hangovers, Vomitting, Death, suicide (not exactly but there’s a definite apathy towards the idea of death this as well so better safe than sorry), murder (her mother)

There was a loud thud as a purse landed on the suite’s floor as Ches stumbled through the front door. She knew she shouldn’t have gone to galaxy edge before closing for drinks, but she was desperate to feel good. Yet, no matter how much she drank today, she didn’t feel the happiness that tended to run through her veins. She felt worse and worse. Even the sight of the balloons in the living room from Emmett and his girlfriend didn’t bring any sort of joy.

It was her fault her mother died; she should have been here instead of Ches. And the more gifts she received, the more she thought back to why her mother was dead. If she hadn’t gone to get gifts for Jonah... it felt like the room was spinning as the thought came back. Wait, no, the room was definitely spinning.

“Hey Ches, sorry I needed to- fuck.” Zander had just come out from the living room, likely taking her up on his offer to hide, but his attempt to avoid people is forgotten by the time he reaches her. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” There were two of him by the time he wraps an arm around her to support her. “It’s been a long night.” He starts to lead her to her bedroom, and it’s hard to keep her feet under her as they walk. But he saves her from crashing to the floor and manages to get her on the bed.

“It wasn’t a night.” She slurs at him as she rests her head against her pillow. “Sky and I, you know. Club 33.” She knew the look on his faces even through the intoxicated haze. She knew he wasn’t happy about this. “I’m okay.” She informs him, starting to sit up. The room begins to move again, and for a moment, she feels like she might just be sick. She moves quickly, barely making it to the toilet before she vomits. Zander quickly behind her to hold back her hair. “See, fine.” She gets out weakly as she flushes the toilet.

“Definitely not fine.” He disagrees as he smooths out her hair. “I’m staying with you tonight, at least until you feel better.” It’s obvious she had no say in the matter, and she doesn’t waste the energy to protest. She slowly gets up, nearly falling face-first as she attempts to reach the bathroom sink to brush her teeth. He’s there in an instant to keep her from tumbling. Perhaps he had a point. She accepts the assistance as she brushes her teeth and doesn’t fight him as he leads her back to the bed and messes with all her pillows to ensure she’s propped up on her side.

“I hate you.”

The words just slip off her tongue. Not how she genuinely felt in the slightest. Zander doesn’t seem to take offense. However, he just runs his fingers through her hair. “I know, I know. I’m the worst. Time for you to sleep.” He whispers back to her. She frowns, but she shuts her eyes, anyway. She’s not sure how long it takes: perhaps it’s minutes, maybe it was hours, but eventually she falls asleep.

—

Opening her eyes felt like literally crawling out of a grave when she finally does wake up, the only light shining was from a phone beside her. “Turn that damn thing off. It hurts,” Ches grumbles, the man beside her laying on top of her blankets complies. “What time is it anyway?”

“4 am, give or take.”

Zander’s answer only causes her to groan as she fixes her pillows the way she likes them. “Shit. No wonder I feel like I was run over by a freight train.” She continues to adjust her pillows, settling into a comfortable spot as she rolls over onto her back.

“No, I think that’s thanks to Club 33.” Zander gives her a pointed look. How did he even know she’d gone drinking there? That she had a membership at all for that matter. “I could pay for the entirety of my college tuition with how much you’ve spent on this trip. Couldn’t I?” There was something about his tone that feels off, that despite his words, it wasn’t the Disneyland trip he was frustrated with at the moment. “You’re spiraling again. The fancy trip, the mass text about Leo, the drinking. Fuck, everything that’s occurred since you came back to Luxor. Spring break, prom, open house. What’s going on?” Of course, he’d notice things weren’t right. Her luck couldn’t get any worse, could it?

“It’s the tenth anniversary of my mother’s death.” The excuse slides off her tongue quickly. But even in the dark, she could make out the look on his face. He knew she was lying, and yet she didn’t change her tune. She couldn’t. After what happened with Lucy, she wasn’t going to tell anyone about that ever again. “Zander, that’s all there is to everything. Drop it.”

He opens his mouth as if he had something to say, but he quickly shuts up. After a few seconds where it looks like he’s not going to push, she takes a breath. But her relief is short-lived when he finally speaks. “Has anyone ever mentioned you crinkle your nose when you lie?”

“I do not!” She protests immediately. Did she really have such an obvious tell? “I’m not lying. That’s really all there is to it. Please.” The word sounds like a plea, and as she hears it, she can’t help but dread him picking up on it. She didn’t need to give him more to question when he was already treading into territory she couldn’t stand to think about. How could she discuss it again? She barely got through it with Lucy.

“Okay, I just have one more question then. Why is your father spending so much money on you lately? Taking the entire school to Disneyland, a suite just for you to hide in, him showing up to graduation. Your Club 33 membership cost could be a household’s entire annual salary, There has to be a reason he’s tossing money at you so aggressively.”

The question causes her blood to run cold. What was she supposed to say? That his father suddenly saw the error of his ways became invested in her life. The lie didn’t even seem plausible, let alone believable. The entire truth hurt too much to think about; she didn’t want to get into the reasons. The best she could offer was the truth, without any details. “He feels guilty.”

“About your mom?” Zander’s voice is so soft, and as the slight hint of guilt starts to leak into it, she can feel her heart starting to break. He was too good to her, too safe, and he doesn’t even hesitate as she moves closer to him on the bed and tries to crawl into his arms. As she starts to sob, he just accepts that right now she needed someone to hold her. “I’m sorry, Chessie. I-”

“It’s not about maman, Zan. When I was home I had to attend his dinner parties, and his VP, he-” She can’t even finish getting the words out as she starts to sob, as the panic sets in and she clings tighter to him. The thought of that evening made her wish she could carve off her skin as if it’d erase the memories of that night from her mind. The more she remembers, the harder it feels to gasp for air, and the faster she breathes as her eyes rapidly search for the nearest escape route.

“Ches, hey. It’s okay, you’re okay.” His voice is gentle as he starts stroking her hair again. For a moment, she goes completely still as she tries to remind herself this was Zander. “You’re safe, I promise. Nobody’s going to hurt you here.” She focuses on the sound of his voice as he tries to comfort her, and slowly, but surely, oxygen is easier to catch. The fear was still lingering; the urge to flee and never look back was overwhelming. “You don’t have to say anything, okay.”

“Look where not saying anything got me, Zander.” She snaps at him, the words just coming out suddenly. “He fucking raped me, and I have to- no, I’m expected to just stay quiet and move past it. Sometimes I’m not sure if the money is because my dad is upset it happened or to keep my mouth shut. You know, he was the one who made me drop the charges.” She still could remember that talk with her father. She could shut her eyes and picture it as if it was five minutes ago still, her father pacing around the living room in their penthouse looking almost as disheveled as he had at her mother’s funeral, practically begging her to let him handle this behind closed doors because he didn’t think she’d survive a trial. “Said he thought I’d kill myself if we went to trials, he handled it behind the scenes.”

“It’s out of love, either way, I think,” Zander says gently as if he’s not sure he’s supposed to speak at all. Honestly, Ches isn’t sure she wants him to talk either. The last time she’d discussed it, she hadn’t felt any better. In ways, she felt worse - guilty for burdening Lucy with something so heavy she couldn’t explain to anyone else.

“I know.”

The words are hard for her to get out, even if it’s the truth. She knew that her father loved her, even when it sometimes felt like he didn’t care nearly enough. Perhaps, in its own fucked up way, this was his way of showing he cared. Her father’s actions weren’t out of ill intent.

“I’m sorry that you’re going through this, you had a horrible year.” He wasn’t wrong about that, the more she thought about it, the more she realized seventeen had truly sucked. “But, you can’t destroy yourself in your attempts to cope. I can’t figure out how you got back without hurting yourself. That’s an issue.”

“It’s not a deal-breaker.” As Ches continues to calm down slowly, the realization she’s trembling begins to dawn on her. “I don’t care if I die, you know.”

“Well I do. Lucy and Avery do, and Elliot would be devastated, so that’s not an option, for starters. So this shit needs to stop.” Zander’s voice is firm, almost like when Logan had no other choice but to scold them. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but this isn’t the answer, Hailey.”

For a brief moment, she considers saying something about her first name, but she doesn’t. She was too drained to fight with him over it. The use could be tolerated for one night. “You can’t tell anyone, Zander. The only person who knows is Lucy.” She says instead as she pulls herself out of his arms to lay in bed again.

“And your therapist?”

“Doesn’t know anything either.” She shuts her eyes as she says the word. Of course, she didn’t go to her therapist about this; it felt too painful to revisit, too heavy to bring words to at times. “Just promise me, Zander.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” She can feel him moving on the bed beside her to start to get up as he says the words, her arm quickly reaching out to stop him. “But, I think you need to talk to your therapist. And-”

“Okay.” She agrees. “But, can you stay? I don’t want- I can’t be alone right now. Please?” The boy stops trying to move at her confession, the admittance she needed someone there. “I think being alone is a bad idea, and I don’t think I can ask Elli to-”

“I’ll stay, as long you need me to.”

She doesn’t say anything as she moves her arm back to her side of the bed. For a moment, she wonders if he’ll question it, but soon the only noise is the sound of his phone unlocking as the two settle into a comfortable silence.

#you know i adore queue #all of my heroes died all alone ( musings )#a hundred thrown out speeches i almost said to you ( self paras )#events ( ches's birthday 2020 )#rape tw #vomiting tw #vomit tw #anxiety tw #anxiety attack tw #alcoholism tw #alcohol tw #drinking tw #all you cool people better leave now 'cause it's about to happen ( balo | zander )#death tw #suicide tw #murder tw

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todaysgenderistherevengecrew · 4 years

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What Does Family Mean to You?

Authors Note: I wrote this a while ago and posted it on AO3 but i wasn’t really on tumblr at that point so i wanted to post it here while i try to write some other stuff

Work:

October 1990

“You know you won’t get anywhere right? No ones going to bail you out this time,” Reggie hears his dad call after his brother and he knows it’s bad this time because Richie doesn’t grace that with a response.

Reggie expects to hear the door slam but instead he can hear someone coming up the steps so he scrambles to climb into the back of his closet, in the compartment he knew his father never bothered to check.

“Reg?” Richie’s voice calls out in the room and Reggie knows that means its safe for him to come out because Richie would never call for him if he was with their father. So, Reggie scrambles out of the closet in a less than graceful tumble of limbs that Richie always promised he would grow into. “Hey buddy,” Richie says once Reggie is on his feet.

Reggie knows what’s happening and he briefly wonders if he crawled back into the closet if that would stop Richie. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

“I have too,” Richie says and Reggie knows that was true, knew this was coming, Richie is 19 and has managed to stay for as long as he could to protect Reggie but he can’t stay forever and it’s selfish of Reggie to want to keep him here.

“Please don’t,” Escapes Reggie’s mouth in a whimper before he can stop it.

Richie kneels in front of him and Reggie hates that he does that Reggie’s 12 now he doesn’t need to be a babied. “Reg,” Richie says, softly.

“Take me with you,” Reggie tries instead.

“I can’t do that,” Richie says and Reggie’s body slumps, “Mom and dad would never let me and I can’t support us both right now but I’m going to start saving and get somewhere stable and I promise the minute I can I’m coming back for you okay?”

“Okay,” Reggie says, quietly.

“It’s going to be okay buddy,” Richie says pulling Reggie into his chest. “We’re going to get out one day and we’ll never have to talk to them ever again.”

Reggie doesn’t respond just sobs silently into his brother’s shoulder. Reggie doesn’t know how long they sit on the floor like that but eventually Richie gets up and packs what little he can carry and heads out the door with one last, “I love you,” thrown over his shoulder to Reggie as he leaves. Reggie doesn’t know this as he sits on the floor but that’s the last time, he’ll see his brother alive.

May 1984

Their parents are loud again and it’s so overwhelming and Reggie can’t find Richie and Richie always makes everything better he just wants his brother. He tries to stifle the loud sob that escapes his mouth but he knows he doesn’t do it well and if his dad wasn’t yelling over it, he would have come up there and gave Reggie something to cry about. Reggie is crumpled on the floor of his and Richie’s room wishing he knew where his brother was when the door to his closet bursts open and Reggie jumps almost out of his skin.

“Hey Reg!” Richie says, crawling out, “Guess what I found.”

“What?” Reggie asks, sitting up and frantically wiping his face.

“Come on,” Richie waves and then crawls back into the closet. Reggie tentively follows him into the cluttered closet.

“Richie where are we going?” Reggie asks as he scrambles over the piles of clothes on the floor of their closet.

“Watch this,” Richie says, turning on a flashlight and handing it to Reggie as he pulls the door to the closet closed. “Here point it there,” Richie says pointing it at a point in the back of the closet. When Reggie does that Richie pushes on it and the panel pops open and slides aside.

“Woah,” Reggie says softly.

“It’s our own secret hide out,” Richie says crawling in and taking the flashlight so Reggie can follow. “See look we can put the panel back and no one will ever know we’re in here.”

“It’s quiet,” Reggie whispers.

“Yeah that’s the best part!” Richie says with a small smile Reggie is too young to decipher. “And we can make it our own, bring some blankets and stuff in here and it can be our own secret fort no one else knows about.”

“You’re the best brother I coulda ever asked for Richie,” Reggie says hugging him.

“Nah that’s you,” Richie says ruffling his hair and hugging him back.

October 1993

Reggie’s mom gets the call almost exactly 3 years after Richie leaves and his dad tells her not to tell him. They forgot he was home again, something they’ve been doing more and more since he joined the band, so they don’t know he can hear them. He goes tearing out of his house after that. He doesn’t even know where he’s going all he knows is his brothers dead and he isn’t supposed to know and everything is too loud and he didn’t get to say good bye and his parents weren’t going to tell him how could they not tell him? does this mean he cant go to the funeral?

His still spiraling when someone grabs him by the shoulders and he cries out and wrenches his whole body backwards and he falls to the pavement. “Reggie. Reggie! Calm down it’s me!” He feels like he can’t breathe and his vision is swimming he doesn’t know what to do is he dying he feels like he’s dying and if he dies does he get to see Richie?

“Reg.” There’s someone kneeling in front of him and for one traitorous moment he thinks its Richie and his body calms this was all a big mistake he misheard and Richie’s come back for him everything’s going to be okay but then his vision clears and the person swims into focus and it’s just Alex with Luke and Bobby standing over his shoulder looking frantic and scared. Reggie lets out a sob and curls in on himself.

“Reg come on what’s wrong?” Alex says softly, reaching out before hesitating remembering what happened last time, he tried to grab Reggie.

Reggie doesn’t respond just throws himself into Alex’s arms and sobs. “He’s dead.” He sobs. He knows he’s making no sense, they don’t even know about Richie, but he doesn’t think he can get anything else out because he feels like someone has tore a hole in his chest and he can’t focus on anything else.

“Who Reggie?” Bobby asks, “Who’s dead?” and that’s when Reggie realizes that Luke and Bobby have kneeled on either side of Alex who has his arms wrapped tightly around Reggie.

“My brother,” he manages to stutter out between gasped breaths.

“What…” Luke starts but Alex cuts him off.

“Let’s go inside,” he says trying to guide Reggie so he’s standing. As Reggie gets to his feet, he realizes somehow, he’s ended up at Bobby’s garage and that’s when he remembers they were supposed to be rehearsing today.

“Shit,” he says and they all turn to him. “We’re supposed to be practicing. I’m so…”

Bobby cuts him off. “Don’t you dare apologize this takes precedent okay? You come before the band. Let’s just go inside and we can deal with everything else from there okay?” he asks, putting his hands on Reggie’s shoulders. When Reggie nods and Bobby slides his arm over Reggie’s shoulder and guides him inside. When they’re all inside they arrange themselves on the couch so that they’re surrounding Reggie with Luke pulling up one of the chairs so he’s sitting in front of Reggie.

“Okay can you tell us what happened?” Luke says calmly.

So, Reggie does his best to explain through hiccupped breaths. The fighting, his brother leaving, how the fighting only got worse, how he wasn’t even allowed to talk about Richie most of the time, the fact that his parents weren’t going to tell him, the knowledge that he was never going to get to say goodbye to his brother because he wasn’t even allowed to know he died, everything came tumbling out before Reggie could stop any of it.

“Reg,” Alex says softly when he finally exhausts himself. “I’m so sorry.” He rubs his hand on his shoulder.

“Do you know when it is?” Luke asks.

“What?” Reggie asks.

“The funeral,” Luke says.

“Yeah it’s the first week of November at St Catherine’s,” Reggie says, “That’s how I know my mom was telling my dad when it was.”

“We’ll take you,” Luke says at the same time Bobby says, “Well why don’t we go?”

“What?” Reggie asks, “You don’t have…”

Luke cuts him off. “I know but we want too.” That’s when Reggie starts to realize that maybe family isn’t just his blood but it can also be the people you care about. These boys, his bandmates, are willing to drop everything to make him feel better and that’s more than either of his parents have ever done for him.

Reggie lets out a sob he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you,” he sobs, “Thank you so much.”

They all chorus reassurances and hug him. “It’s going to be okay,“ Alex says, face buried in his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Reggie says, “One day I think it will.”

December 1987

It’s Christmas Eve and his parents can’t stop fighting long enough to have one good holiday. Richie isn’t home, he’d snuck out about an hour ago to see his current girlfriend for a little before he had to come home. Reggie’s nine and knows that he should be able to deal with the fighting by now but the sound of a plate smashing still sends him scrambling to the safe space he and his brother had created all those years ago. He doesn’t know how long he’s in there when he hears the panel slide open and see’s Richie climb in.

“Hey Reg,” He says, sliding the panel closed again.

“Hey Rich,” Reggie replies quietly, “It was just loud couldn’t focus on uh…” he frantically looks around for something that he could have been working on finding only a book that he knows is Richie’s.

“It’s okay if you’re scared Reggie,” Rich says, face soft, “You’re just a kid you shouldn’t have to deal with them fighting all on your own, I’m sorry I left I just needed to get something I thought maybe they would be better because it was Christmas.”

“Its fine,” Reggie snaps, “I’m not a kid. I wasn’t scared.” He crosses his arms.

“Okay well sometimes mom and dad yelling scares me so if it scares you its okay.” Reggie doesn’t answer just turns away. Richie smirks. “So, I guess you don’t want your present then?”

“Present?” Reggie says, turning back to him.

“Oh, now you’re interested?” Richie says, laughing and socking his shoulder.

“Maybe a little,” Reggie leans forward, “Can I see it?”

Richie hands him a badly wrapped box. “It’s not much but I hope you like it

Reggie rips open the packaging and “it’s a necklace?” Reggie says holding it out towards Richie, it’s beaded all the way around and way too big for Reggie’s small frame with a long stone at the end.

“It’s a pendent so that even if we aren’t together, I will always be there to protect you. If mom and dad ever fight and I’m not here to protect you just touch it and remember I am always with you in here,” Richie says, pointing to his chest.

“thank you. I love it Richie. I’m never going to take it off.” He hugs his brother.

November 1993

Alex’s parents drive them all to the funeral and he has no clue how Alex got them to do it without asking too many questions but they just drop them off and tell them they’ll come back to get them when the service is over. When Reggie walks in he is overwhelmed by the number of people, the number of boys his age, there are inside.

“What…” Reggie trails off, “Maybe this is the wrong service,” he starts to back out when a brown-haired woman and with a little girl’s hand in hers comes up to him.

“Wait!” She calls, “You’re Reggie, right?”

“Yeah. I… who are you?” Reggie asks, taking another step backward before Luke puts a calming hand on his upper arm to ground him.

“You probably don’t remember me I think we only actually met once but Richie talked about you so much I feel like I know you,” She says reaching her free hand out to shake his. “I’m Charlotte I was your brother’s wife.”

“What?” Reggie takes another stagger step back and this time it’s Alex who stabilizes him. “My brother wasn’t… he didn’t… what?”

“I know this is a lot to take in but when he left it was because I was pregnant with Riley.” She motioned to the little girl next to her who gives a shy wave. “He wanted to tell you but he couldn’t let your parents find out, he didn’t want your dad knowing, and he didn’t want you to have to worry about keeping it from them.”

“I don’t understand,” Reggie stutters.

“Your brother and I had been dating for about a month when we found out I was pregnant with Riley and he knew he couldn’t live in the house and support me and Riley. His biggest regret was leaving you there to deal with your family alone. It was something he struggled with for the last three years. He spent his life planning to get you out and moved in with us but every time he tried to go back your father stopped him from seeing you. He volunteered at so many youth programs trying to fill the hole you left, the hole he made when he left you. Your brother was an amazing man and used his short life to touch so many people and I’m so glad to officially meet the boy who inspired all that in him.” She sounds on the verge of tears but she still radiates so much love in the way she talks about his brother it physically hurts Reggie.

“I can’t do this,” Reggie says turning on his heels and bolting out of the church. He makes it to the steps before collapsing and shoving his head between his legs to try to calm his rapid breathing.

“It’s okay,” A soft voice accompanied by a hand, Alex’s his hands are always so cold, says, “Just try to breathe.”

“I think we should go,” Reggie says, lifting his head, “I don’t think I can do this. That isn’t… Richie didn’t… I don’t think I knew my brother at all.”

Luke is standing in front of him and he says, “We can leave if you want none of us will stop you, we will find something to do until Alex’s parents come back but I don’t think you should.”

“I can’t stand there and find out the person my brother was around me was a lie,” Reggie says, voice cracking.

“He wasn’t,” Bobby says, “Just because he had a wife and a kid and a lot of people who he clearly touched doesn’t mean you were any less important to him. Listen we don’t know much about your family so I’m not going to try to speak for your brother but from what you said, from what Charlotte has said, you meant the world to him and he was clearly important to you. Like Luke said if you want to leave right now, we will we don’t have to go back in there but I think it is something you will really regret if you don’t.”

Reggie puts his head back between his legs and takes a couple deep breathes and blinks the last of the tears from his eyes. He inhales and lifts his head. “Okay let’s go back in.”

Alex pulls him to standing and Luke claps him on the back and says, “I’m proud of you man.” And they walk back into the funeral as a unit.

June 1984

The first time Reggie takes off on his bike without his brother’s hands to guide him Richie jumps up and down, cheering and scoops him up and spins him. “I’m so proud of you Reg!”

July 1995

There is no one breaking point that summer that makes him leave and move into the garage he just decides one day that enough is enough and no one will come looking for him at this point so he mine as well move in with his real family. He leaves a note just saying they shouldn’t come looking for him and he’s not coming and then in one spiteful moment he knows he’ll regret later he writes ‘you were wrong Richie came back for me’. he knows they’ll know he’s lying. He hopes it makes his mom cry. He hopes it makes his dad break something important. He hopes they know he knows they’ll know he’s lying. Most of all, despite everything, he hopes they get better, hopes they mend their relationship or finally get that divorce whatever makes them happy in the end. He hopes maybe one day he can come back and they’ll apologize and they’re relationship will never be perfect but he hopes one day they can make it okay.

He dies a week later.

August 2020

“Hey Richie. I hope wherever you are you can hear me I hope you’re somewhere that isn’t here I think being a ghost is bad ass but I think it would just upset you so I hope you’re somewhere you’re happy. I really thought dying would bring me back to you but I guess I didn’t count on it happening so soon either. I just wanted you to know I got out. I got away from mom and dad. I never got the chance to go to your grave after… before… well you know. I also wanted you to know I found Charlotte and Riley when I came back. Riley looks so much like you it’s scary. From everything I’ve learned about her she’s just like you. She’s going far in life. I’m so sorry you couldn’t watch her grow up but I just want you to know I’m here now and I’ll watch over her. That kids going far and I’ll be damned if I let what happened to us happen to her. I still miss you so much. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it but it’s getting easier. The band could never replace you but it feels good to have people around me who actually care about me like you would have. So yeah that’s really all. I just wanted you to know that you can rest easy I’m doing good and I’ve got Riley for you now so you can rest knowing you left a legacy of amazing people who are doing fine. I’d like you to meet my new family one day. I love you Rich and I miss you every day. I hope, if I ever figure out how too and decide to cross over, I can see you again but if I never can thank you for everything you did for me. I couldn’t have asked for a better big brother.”

#julie and the phantoms #japt #japt alex #luke patterson #luke julie and the phantoms #japt luke #alex julie and the phantoms #alex japt #reggie julie and the phantoms #japt reggie #reggie jatp #character death #canonical character death #oc Reggie's brother #OC richie

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blisslilywrites · 5 years

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Hello. I hope you're doing well. My grandfather died recently and I need support more than ever. Can be ask you scenario about GOM, Kagami and Nijimura when have their s/o died someone from native and she has become depressed and detached, it needs the support of. Thank you for your efforts and creativity.) I hope you enjoy creating for your readers.

A/N: Dear anon, we’re both really sorry it took so long. We hope you’ve been feeling better with everything you’ve been through ~Bliss & Lily

AKASHI SEIJUURO

You and your grandfather were really close and Akashi, your boyfriend, knew this. The moment you heard the news of his death, Akashi was by your side doing everything he could to comfort you.

He attended the funeral with you a few days later and held you as you sobbed in his arms. He understands that this is a difficult time for you, so he gave you the space you need to mourn and grieve.

However, as the days passed, you felt yourself growing more and more detached. From your boyfriend, from your work, from the world…

Akashi noticed this too. He didn’t say anything at first because he was afraid of upsetting you. But after a while, it’s become clear that you’ve only been getting worse.

“Y/N, it’s been a few weeks since your grandfather died and in that time, you—you’ve been avoiding a lot of your responsibilities,” he said as gently as he could.

“I’m not condemning you or anything for taking your time to mourn, but…what you’re doing isn’t exactly healthy to yourself—”

Anger and sadness filled you. You felt like crying but there weren’t any tears left to cry. So, instead, you looked away.

“Sei, you don’t understand ok”

“But Y/N, I do understand what you’re going through…”

Suddenly you felt ashamed, of course, he knew what it’s like.

“Y/N,” he continued, taking your hands into his. “Things may be rough for you, but I need you to remember you’re not alone.”

You finally looked him in the eyes again.

“It may be difficult to deal with now, but it’ll get better. I promise.”

The tears finally started coming. He softly wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight.

“And until it gets better, I promise to say by your side,” he whispered

And he did stay by your side. On the nights you cry in your sleep, he’d lay next to you and hug you, not letting go until dawn breaks. During the days you feel like you need a distraction, Akashi would take you out, whether it’s to eat, to watch a movie, or even to go to an amusement park.

He’s been with you through the good times and now he’s here for you in the bad.

AOMINE DAIKI

“Daiki?” you whispered into your phone.

“What’s up Y/N?”

“My grandfather just died…” The words felt strange coming out of your lips.

He froze. “Holy shit y/n. Where are you? I’m coming.”

Aomine knew how much your grandfather meant to you, so hearing that caused him to panic a little on the inside. He may be a complete jerk at times but when push comes to shove, he’ll show that he actually does care a lot because, well because he does.

You told him you were still home and within minutes there he was. He hugged you and asked you how you were holding up? You told him you were fine.

All you felt then was numbness.

As time passed, the numbness only grew. If someone asked how you were doing, you just said you’re fine and put on a cheerful smile.

It wasn’t a smile that fooled everyone though.

One day, Aomine gave you an old photo. You took it from him and saw it was one of you and your grandfather, taken while you were still a kid.

You stared at it blankly for a moment before saying, “Thanks Daiki. I didn’t know you had this.”

“Well your mom gave it to me…”

You gave him a small half-hearted smile, to which he responded with a frown.

“Y/n, you can’t keep going on like this,” Aomine said. “You still smile, but it’s not the same smile you used to have…”

“Daiki I-”

“Look I wouldn’t think it was weird because people do need their time to grieve but, hell you haven’t even cried properly.”

You fell quiet at that.

“Y/n I know how much he meant to you OK. In the times that I’ve met him I could already tell he was an amazing guy. I know you miss him alot and you’re just trying to act strong. But you have to let yourself feel things too. Keeping it inside isn’t doing you any favors.”

“Hmm didn’t think you’d actually lecture me on this” you said trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hey, don’t give me that. And see, you’re doing it again. Y/N look we both know you’re suffering like this. Please just—”

“I know ok. But Daiki…” You looked at the photo in your hand and back to your boyfriend. “He’s actually gone.”

Your voice broke and all the feelings came rushing out. Aomine quickly moved to your side and you collapsed into his arms, sobbing. He stroked your hair and back but kept quiet because he knew that you’ve finally started on the path to moving on. And there’s no way in hell he’s going to allow anything to stop you on your way.

KISE RYOUTA

Morning.

Another day filled with pain and agony. You reached out everything you needed for school. Uniform, bag, and composure.

It had been a week since your grandfather’s funeral and you found yourself still longing for his warmth.

A vibration meddled amidst your preparation. On your phone screen, Kise’s name was written.

You answered without any lingering hesitation.

“Doumo Y/N-cchi!” A cheerful greeting pleased your ears. You felt a joyous, contented smile spread across your face. “How are you doing?”

“Ryouta, seriously. You’ve been doing the same thing for a week—,” You were about to scold him about the same thing again, nevertheless the blonde knew and so he beat you to it, “and I’ll do it again. Y/N-cchi, I’m going to get you, okay? So don’t think about leaving without me-ssu!”

Your day started with what he promised you, he walked you to school, sent you to your classroom and carried out a gentlemanly gesture in front of everyone. If he was an ordinary guy, people wouldn’t care. But your boyfriend was Kise Ryouta, with that his fangirls sent condolences with what he informed them.

Kaijo’s ace observed you the whole day, his head buried on his hand which was in contact with his desk, gazing at you intently with the golden eyes of his you could easily drown in.

The class dismissed in boredom and customary, yet Kise hadn’t fulfilled his auspicious duty. There was one last thing he hadn’t done for the day— a kiss on the forehead, a sign of comforting someone.

As the figure of your home became unquestionable in your sight, you paused as you directed your position into seeing your boyfriend off and to thank him for the whole day of being nothing but a chivalrous, courteous and an honorable man.

“Ryouta, thank you—,” You lifted your face and felt he planted a soft, gentle kiss on your forehead. It was a peck and he pulled away after barely grazing your forehead nevertheless it was pure of solace.

You stared at him, stunned as your cheeks turned bright red. For a week, he would fetch you home, feed you, console you and attend to your needs. But a kiss.. it was a sudden remark.

“Y/N-cchi, I don’t know how you feel, but I am here to help in any way I can. So expect me to do it again-ssu! Let’s move on slow and steady, shall we?” A lovely, genuine smile painted across your lips as if blooming flowers. Yeah, there was no reason for you to stop him. Because your joy is his.

It was time he disappeared from your sight, but before that, he spared you a moment’s glance and gave you a single, handsome smile. Tomorrow was another day of warmth without ruins.

MIDORIMA SHINTARO

A familiar beep came overflowing the corners of your room, resulted you awake from an unwanted nightmare.

As a habit, you did your morning routine actively. You made your bed again, tidied up your room, took a shower and did your skin care. Everything was in place. Everything was common.

Everything wasn’t weird.

Seeing no hint of oddness within your room, you headed downstairs to the living room to eat breakfast and to greet someone special as a usual thing.

Everything was normal. Everything was ordinary. Everything was usual…

…until you saw the empty living room longing for the company of someone. You fell to your knees. It wasn’t just a nightmare you dreamed of, it was your excruciating memory. You sighed, another day of assuming everything was okay. Because in reality, everything was not.

Your eyes glistened with desolation, tears you thought that would last forever. You hadn’t gotten used of your special someone’s disappearance. It was unusual for you to not see them, it was unusual for you to beg, it was unusual for you to cry and—

Just as you heard the sound of the doorbell, you went to see the last unusual thing. You nudged the door open only to see the one and only boyfriend of yours.

“Y/N, I got you something to eat-nanodayo.” He presented you the plastic bag in his hand with your favorite food and a drink to second it. You smiled weakly but showed gratitude for his kindness as you welcomed him to your lonely home.

“Shintaro, you know you didn’t have to—,”

“Oha Asa said to comfort you, so you don’t need to feel in debt to me. And.. I want to see for myself you’re eating well.”

“Yeah but..” A downhill tone of voice established your words. It was no use to seeing the green haired off and stopping him about something he was enthusiastic about was pointless. Instead, you giggled that made him quirked his eyebrows.

“Still, it’s unusual for you to skip school for me, you smartass.”

He beamed brighter than ever. He had his way of showing affection because as the tsundere guy he is, he wouldn’t go directly at something. He didn’t go to school for days just to comfort someone he loved dearly. He brought you food and diverted your attention elsewhere. Shintaro is the home you needed the most.

MURASAKIBARA ATSUSHI

It’s been a few hours since you found out. At first, you were in denial and didn’t really know what to do. You wandered aimlessly around your house, going from room to room, feeling nothing but a hallowed emptiness.

Suddenly you heard the doorbell ring. You quickly gathered yourself and walked to the front door to see who was there.

“Y/n-chin~” you were greeted upon opening the door. “Why are you still in your pajamas? I thought you were going to take me to the new candy store today,” Murasakibara said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Oh right, that was today…” The news from earlier was all that had occupied your mind and you completely forgot your date with Murasakibara today.

You took a deep breath. “Actually, I don’t think I can make it today Atsu.”

“Ehh? Why?”

“I just don’t feel so good OK?” you answered trying your best to be patient.

“Is y/nchin sick?”

“Not exactly Atsu”

He frowned. “OK…we don’t have to go today.”

You smiled and apologized before heading back into the house. You spent the rest of the next few days in your room, coming out only to go to the toilet and to get food. You haven’t even touched your phone since the hospital called. A few people may have come to visit you but you never left your room to talk to them. Eventually, they just left.

After who knew how long, you heard another doorbell. And another. And some pounding coming from the front door. You pulled your tear-stained blanket over your head and wished it would just stop.

“Y/n-chin,” a familiar voice called out.

You knew who it was but neither had the will nor the energy to leave your bed at the moment. A couple minutes later, you heard the lock click and the front door opening.

Oh right, I told him where I hid the spare key.

A giant shadow loomed in your hallway. As Mura walked into your room, you could slowly make out the details of his face. He looked…concerned.

“Y/n-chin, Muro-chin told me what happened.”

You gulped and buried your face in the blanket again.

He crouched down next to your bed and easily lifted the blanket off your head.

“I brought you some snacks,” he quietly said lifting a plastic bag of sweets and various other junk food.

You smiled and sat up as Murasakibara reached into the bag to pull out your favorite snack. He sat down next to you and started feeding you.

“You don’t have to feed me Atsu,” you said, not really protesting though.

“It’s OK, I want y/n-chin to get better.”

Tears started forming in your eyes. Your boyfriend wasn’t a man of many words but he knew exactly how to make you feel better.

Seeing you cry, he started to panic. “Don’t be sad y/n-chin. I’ll stop feeding you if you want.”

You laughed as you wiped away the tears. “No these are happy tears Atsu.” He looked relieved and you suddenly thought back to the few days you’ve locked yourself inside your house.

“Atsu, I’m sorry…for not telling you what happened and—“

“Y/n-chin,” he shushed you, putting a finger on your lips. “Don’t be sorry. It’s ok. I know now and I’m here.”

You smiled again. Your boyfriend really is the sweetest.

KUROKO TETSUYA

You heard the growling of your younger relatives from behind. Three kids no older than fourth graders, prowling over their empty stomachs as their own hunger fed them.

“Y/N-chan, I miss grandpa..” One cried out, grieving for the beloved. “And.. I’m hungry..”

The other two seconded with much support whereas you calmed them down and showed a fine expression. You were good with them, but three kids were too much for you to handle.

“Then let’s go out to eat, okay?”

As you ushered them outside with both hands linked to the children, the sunlight illuminated the face of someone especially familiar in soft, warm golds. He was waiting near your house, with both hands occupied by the take outs he had recently bought. “Y/N-san, I’m here for you.”

You were happy to see your boyfriend— ecstatic rather, nonetheless misery charged upon your eyes the moment he had separated his lips. Because you still couldn’t believe the reality before you, and Kuroko being there for you moved you to your soul, which made your tears more discernible. You tried to obscure the obvious, even so your relatives caught you simply as it is to find out.

“Y/N-chan, are you crying?!” They fussed in chorus.

“Y/N-san,” Kuroko held you to your composure, hands at your sides to support your stance and balance, “Let’s go get some fresh air, shall we?”

Fresh air led to somewhere surrounded by trees and grass, with several people either relaxing their minds or exhausting their bodies. It was a park, which the children loved so much.

But it wasn’t just the kids who played with each other, apparently your boyfriend knew how to handle children just the way they liked. They ran and ran, hid and sought, enjoyed and bursted out all excitement within.

As Kuroko finished his duty as a good brother-in-law, he came back to check on you.

“So Y/N-san, have you thought about everything now?” He flopped down on the bench as to where you were sitting, gazing at you like a good observer.

“Kuroko, thank you..”

“I didn’t do anything. It was you who smiled on your own. So Y/N-san..” He stared at you and cracked a smile. You were already drowning in his blue, blank gaze before he could even continue, “A glimpse or an obvious one, I will make sure to see your real smile everyday.”

KAGAMI TAIGA

He knew about what had happened a week or two ago, but what he didn’t know was how to act around you after that. According to your mom, he was to “try his best to keep everything normal” as your grandfather’s death upset you quite a lot. He has been “trying his best to keep everything normal” but he could only feel you slowly slipping away.

It started with the walking home alone, then the silence, and then finally avoidance.

Not knowing what to do, Kagami turned to Kuroko.

“Make her feel loved. Y/n-san is going through a tough time. Show her you’re there for her to support her.”

Still not knowing what to do, but having a better idea than before, Kagami came up with a plan. He went to your house the next weekend and asked your mom if he could take you out for the day.

“To make her feel better,” he explained.

Your mom agreed and practically forced you out of the house.

As usual nowadays, you were a bit quiet. The only time you spoke was when you asked Kagami where you guys were headed.

“You’ll see,” was all he said.

After about a few minutes of walking, you quickly realized where he was taking you. This route led to only one place you could think of - the park. You suddenly stopped in your tracks. The park was where you and your grandfather had spent most of your childhood. He taught you how to play sports, ride bikes, feed the fish in the lake and the birds on the ground.

Kagami turned to look at you.

“Y/N are you OK?” he said with concerned eyes.

you shook your head and quickly muttered, “I’m fine” before quickly walking to your side.

The two of you finally made it to the park when Kagami said, “Y/N, there’s a good hot dog stand somewhere here, wanna grab a bite?”

You nodded, too busy to actually pay attention to his words. Instead, you looked around you as all the memories came flooding back.

You were still in a daze when Kagami hades you a hot dog. It was the exact same one you used to eat with your grandfather every time you two came here.

Tears started pouring out against your will. You quickly wiped them away and took the hot dog from Kagami.

You were about to suggest going to sit on one of the benches when you felt strong arms embracing you.

Kagami pulled you in for a hug and quietly whispered, “You told me once you spent a lot of time with him here as a kid.”

You felt the tears surfacing again. “I’m here for you Y/N, please just talk to me if you need to.”

You started crying into his shirt and he pulled you in even tighter.

When you regained your composure and he let you go, you gazed at him with a smile and noticed something on his shirt.

“Umm Taiga, I may have gotten your shirt a bit dirty…”

He looked down to see mustard and ketchup stains muddled with tears.

He laughed and said it was fine before buying you another hot dog.

At the end of the day, you gave him a wide smile, “Thank you Taiga.” Despite still feeling sad, having him with you did make dealing with the pain way easier.

NIJIMURA SHUZO

Nijimura had been waiting at the entrance of your school as he was lit in gaiety the moment he saw his special someone.

“Y/N!” He called for your attention, with a raised hand to captivate you completely. You ran past the other students to your boyfriend who was glowing under the silhouette of the sunset.

“Shuzo-kun! Have you been here for long? I’m sorry I slept in my class!” You erased every evidence you had for crying silently in class. Just as you read again that text your mom sent you last night, you had been crying softly since Math class. Your friends did notice and confronted you about it, but being the secretive person you are, you just brushed it off.

You survived hiding your sorrow until dismissal and wished to prolong your masked emotions, but.. could you?

Nijimura noticed the unusual silence wrapped around you and him as you walked together down the pavement. He thought it wasn’t something to make fuss of, not that he didn’t like you being noisy, but a quiet air seemed definitely normal. That unusual silence he noticed was one thing, but the second unusual thing made him conclude that something wasn’t right. He offered his arm for you to hold because he knew you liked clinging onto him very much, but you were preoccupied, gazing at thin air as if you were daydreaming.

“Y/N,” He snapped.

The both of you stopped your steps as you whirled to ask him what was wrong, but the given answer only made you stoned in tension.

“You’re acting kind of different. Tell me, are you okay?” The question you had been ignoring strongly stabbed you to your soul. But just like you did to your friends earlier, you pulled the knife out of you.

“Of course I’m okay! I mean, I was just thinking about something like umm.. Oh! Our English homework.”

“..Really? Then what’s it all about?”

“How would I know? I told you I was thinking about how to answer it without knowing what it’s all about, hehehe..”

“Seriously, Y/N.” He placed his hands upon your shoulders, his gaze meeting yours.

“You told me you slept throughout your last class, but I know that’s your favorite subject so you wouldn’t even dare to blink. Secondly, you have been distracted lately and haven’t held my hand, shallow but reasonable. And the last one about your English homework is pure nonsense. So Y/N, tell me what’s wrong.” You damned him and his smart ass in your mind. Yeah.. Nijimura’s pretty straightforward too.

You gasped, tears prisoned behind your constrained happy eyes, that very much led you to your own downhill. “My grandfather just died..” Your voice cracked.

He was shocked, albeit his composure didn’t reduce a bit. He seized your hand with his and pulled you to his embrace. It was so warm and felt like home.

“You are never alone and never will be.”

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dragonkitty · 4 years

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Dear Mom

Hi Mom,

I thought of you today bringing Avery to the vet. I remember when you used to give me shit about it, and we would always say, “well you know she’s old”. And she is. And every damn time they tell me that she’s actually incredibly healthy. Today they told me she’s senile “like people” and I thought you’d be amused. It’s like Jingles but twenty times worse. She just howls! All day. Honestly. And the gabapentin they gave me for her? 250 dollars!!!! Ugh. Dad made a good point that a good vet would have told me. I mean, I like Wakefield though but he’s right.

How’ve you been? I sort of imagine you’re not in any one particular place. I picture you like that weird sci-fi book dad talked about, where you can exist all over the place. Except you just kind of exist. I think you wouldn’t like the idea of watching over anyone, but just being with them. Is that weird? Nah.

Moira got really really awful. I would have called you but fuck… she just says the cruelest things. I think you hoped she wouldn’t. Maybe you didn’t think she would to someone like me. She kept saying I was becoming what you were worried about or whatever. I blocked her. Told dad I did. He told Matt and they both kind of wondered what she wants. I don’t think she wants anything from me that I can give her. Just get tired of being a punching bag.

In that realm, can we talk about that? You were so good at caretaking, or maybe you just didn’t mind it… but I can’t do it. I know you worried about Sofia and Theo, and wanted me to watch over them, but I can’t. And watching out for Dad has been… a lot. I love him, you know that. I don’t regret any time spent with him or looking out, but it’s just been hard as hell. Definitely did exactly what you said he would, though. You knew the man, that’s for sure. I don’t think you told anyone about me, or at least, how I would react. I think you worried but you knew I was strong. I don’t feel strong.

Every day is so hard, you know? I feel guilty on the days when I don’t call your phone, but worse when I put on headphones and listen to your voicemails or your playlists. Honestly I’m super sorry I didn’t give you more credit. You’ve got amazing songs. I wish you played the good stuff.

I drove to New York to see Dee a few weekends ago. Friend from college, you remember her? You never met her but I talked about her and her kiddos a bunch. Anyway driving there was hard. Longest drive I’ve done in years, probably. Made me glad for the new Civic. The drive back was peaceful, though. I sort of just flew. I even turned off the music for a bit and just sat in the peace and thought about you. I let myself just ‘be’. Mindfulness, right?

The Dali Lama got vaccinated, by the way! I mean, Dad did, too. But so did the Dali Lama. Dad’s was nice. He tried not to backseat drive. He even walked in and did OK. We got him the shot and he cried, but because you weren’t there. It’s hard to explain the emotion I have with that. Maybe you would have known and if I knew how this would have felt I’d have asked. I wanted him to be happy crying, too. That he and I did this together. Got him here. That we would be able to eat dinner together and see movies. But he was on you. Trust me I get it, I don’t fault him that. I just so wish I could be someone he feels emotionally attached to and I feel like he isn’t. He’s lost in his own brain where you still exist and where the rest of the world doesn’t have to. I’m not jealous but I am sad.

You know, it reminds me a lot of when he took me to the Isabella Gardner Museum in Boston back when I was a teen. We took the 100 bus to the Orange Line, then into Boston and the Green Line to the museum. I vividly remember how beautiful it was but I remember the look on his face looking around. The light was shining in, middle of winter, into the arboretum. Stunning flowers and ivy and plants and he just stood and took it in. I’ll never know what he was thinking but he looked like what I imagine peace to be. I hope he felt it, in that moment. I think he was trying to share it. You can’t share an emotion, though. But it connected us. We’ve got weird moments. Don’t we all.

Honestly if we’re being real I’m sort of pissed you covered all the death stuff before you died. Everyone out there frets about funerals and financials and all this garbage… you had it covered. It means all I’m stuck with is dealing with grief. And hell I fucking sucked at it. I thought that time off in November would be OK but it wasn’t. I was just so fucking angry all the time. Everything made me angry. In turn, everything made me tired. When I finally sort of dropped in February and crawled to the finish line long enough to take leave, I realized how truly done I was. I’m not sure how much closer to a nervous breakdown you get.

Grief sucks. They don’t tell you it’s always different. That it looks different with different people. I wanted it to be… predictable. Or something I could watch in a movie. I wanted Meg Ryan to be able to show me how to cope or feel like Brie Larson experienced it the same. But no one does. They don’t tell you the guilt looks so fucking weird and wonky. Or that it’s not just ‘guilt’ but like, this uncontrollable urge to fix it even if you know all was already said. And you told me you were going to die knowing I knew everything and that you were proud but god damnit, that didn’t help. We joked when you said “I’m at peace” and I said “Good for you but I’m not.” But it’s true.

The support group on Facebook is nice for that. A lot of people who HAVE experienced this or ARE experiencing it just… talking. Sharing stories. A woman in there thought I was a teen, haha. She said if she was closer she’d have taken me to get ice cream on Friday for your birthday, but instead is going to show her daughter my hair. You’d love my hair now. Went back to funky colors.

All right. Got a lot of sobbing out and got distracted mid-writing this. People below me keep smoking so much pot it’s driving me nuts.

That’s life, though, right? At least I’m taking this time off. I told dad if I had the money I’d quit my regular job and just work at Target until I passed out. Give me 60-hour weeks of brain-dead work. Putting clothes away, stocking shelves, ignoring rude customers. I wish I did that. I like a job with purpose but man… I just want a break.

Anyway I’ll write again when I’m ready. Miss you and happy early birthday if I don’t talk to you before Friday. Love you.

#mom #grief #loss #coping #mental health #parent loss #mother #loss of a parent #dear mom

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babbling-idiot · 4 years

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Milton Dammers Headcanon

Request: "How would Milton's s/o react to seeing him as a ghost after his run in with Patricia?" -by Anon

Warning: Milton being dead

(Hey anon! I hope you are satisfied with this headcanon. I hope this is good enough.)

Well I'd like to think, pissed smooth off

I mean I know I would be

You went to his funeral, Frank and Lucy were there, mostly for your sake and for support, cause they knew how much you loved Milton

You didn’t take it all too well, most of the time you’d stay up and just sit on the couch asking if he could hear you and trying to reach out to him

Which never worked, till now

one day you're at home doing work and out of know where you see Milton and fall over the back of the couch, which hurt like a motherfucker

He is also pissed, mostly cause it took so long for you to finally see him and cause he’s fucking dead

I mean damn! After everything Milton has gone through and now this!!

Oh man this changes everything though big time

Milton didn't know what to do after he was killed so of course he went straight to you, again it took a while for you to see him

Which was not good what so ever, it broke your very being

Even though he was there with you, to kind of help you through your breakdown, it just wasn't right

This wasn't right, he should be here, with you eating dinner or cuddling with you but no instead he is this see-through ghost that is just standing there.

I'd like to think that over time, you get used to it.

As you get used to his ghost-ness, you get used to not being able to hug him, which sucks, tremendously

Though you do go to Frank to get some info on ghosts, cause he was around that for like, ever

Like can you make contact with them, can they make contact with you, and things like that, most of it was a big fat no

But hey at least you tried

He does go with you almost everywhere you go, to the store, to your friend's house, to which he just mocks them, cause they never really like him and it's just funny that he'll just stand behind them and make faces and mock them

He loves doing that to the ones that didn’t like him, but mostly to make you smile and laugh, which works a lot of the time, and your friends will look at you like your are crazy, but you have to play it off, as you saw something and it made you laugh or you remembered something

He is still Milton, just dead, but one day everything will be ok

(I hope you like this anon!)(Also, me and my mom were arguing over if Milton goes to heaven or hell?!? Like he should end up in heaven but my mom was all over me on how Milton should actually go to hell?? Like what kind of fucking logic is that, He never did anything wrong, he had all this shit done to him so he should go to heaven!!) Also like shouldn't Milton had got to see the ghosts as well, i mean he did get all the 'Fruity Cases' right, isn't that traumatic or was it not traumatic to him?)

#milton dammers x reader #milton dammers headcanon #milton dammers #The Frighteners #jeffery combs

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baldrambo · 4 years

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On Joyce Byers....

Joyce Byers is a bad ass. So why is she handled with kid gloves by everyone? This is a bit of a companion discussion to my Hopper post from a few weeks ago. Like my prior meta, I will discuss what I believe to be truths about Joyce and her arc, which don’t appear to be aligned with most analyses of her character that I’ve seen elsewhere. I will make 5 assertions and address each of them below the cut because (as per the norm) this got really long and I am not trying to clog up people’s dashboards.

Assertion 1: We have no canon evidence that Lonnie was physically abusive and making Joyce his victim does a disservice to her characterization

Assertion 2: What Bob represented to Joyce was more important to her arc than Bob himself (aka Bob/Joyce were not really a good match)

Assertion 3: Making fun of/being frustrated by Joyce’s magnet obsession misses the point of her arc in S3, which was about her pro-activity rather than reactivity

Assertion 4: Joyce inappropriately attempts to compartmentalize Hopper (aka Joyce needs to let Lonnie and Bob go if she’s to ever move on)

Assertion 5: Joyce is not a delicate cinnamon roll in need of our protection she is a BAMF and should be treated as such.

Assertion 1:

Our first introduction to Joyce is as a small, mousy, anxious, chain-smoking single mom who….can’t find her keys. And not because she is is careless. She has literally SO much on her plate at any given moment that the location of her keys is trivial until it’s not. She works long hours at a low-wage job to support her boys. She really has no life outside of work, paying bills, and cleaning house. Wash, rinse, repeat. She is just barely scraping by.

And yet we learn through flashbacks fairly quickly after Will’s disappearance that despite working long hours, despite the constant stress….she still manages to find time to parent her boys. And not just be any old parent, mind you. Joyce Byers is a good parent. When Will is out in Castle Byers she doesn’t just barge in. She respects his personal space, remembers a unique nerdy password, and waits for him to tell her that she can enter. She then trusts his judgment when he says that he can handle watching Poltergeist. This is later juxtaposed by the scene in Nancy’s bedroom with Jonathan where Karen attempts to enter the bedroom after Nancy has had to lock it. Jonathan looks at Nancy, a little shocked, and says “she doesn’t knock?” Which is weird to him, of course, because Joyce would always knock. Now lets contrast Joyce, who is Mother of the Year, with Lonnie Byers who is a Grade A Piece of Shit™. He abandoned the family and hasn’t seen them in years. And when he was around, he spent his time being a deadbeat, calling his son a faggot, and trying to force his boys into being “manlier” and more mainstream.

We first meet Lonnie in 1x2 when Jonathan drives out to Indianapolis to confirm that Will is in fact, not with his father. When Lonnie’s girlfriend answers the door, Jonathan pushes past her and into the home, shouting for his brother. Lonnie then comes in from outside, grabs Jonathan, and pushes him up against a wall. Only then does he realize it’s his son. Lonnie hadn’t seen Jonathan in so long that he almost didn’t recognize him, and initially thought him an intruder. Jonathan angrily shoves Lonnie back, who steps back and laughs. Notably, Jonathan does not appear to fear Lonnie and Lonnie makes no attempt to otherwise assert any other type of physical control over Jonathan. Lonnie talks to him like he’s an adult.

When Lonnie returns in 1x5 for Will’s funeral, he is an immediate negative influence who has Joyce up drinking all night, calls her crazy, and starts sniping at Jonathan about some stupid poster in his bedroom being inappropriate. However, there is no real confrontation until Joyce finds the flyer in his belongings and realizes he is attempting to collect on Will’s “death.” She screams at Lonnie and holds her ground when he shouts back. She shoves him. She gets in his face and throws his bag at him. And then little 5′2 Joyce Byers successfully throws a grown ass man out of her house. He never raises a hand to her.

This is not a Lonnie Byers apology piece. Lonnie Byers is a shitty dad, shitty partner, shitty person. I think an entirely separate piece could be written on the emotional abuse of his boys (although in the 80′s Midwest much of that would be considered normal, but that’s another essay). But there is nothing to suggest that Lonnie ever hit them, or Joyce. If the Duffers wanted Lonnie to be physically abusive, they would make it obvious, no?

The most clear example of this? Neil Hargrove. When he enters Billy’s bedroom in 2x8, he has complete control. Over Billy, his wife, the conversation. He overtly strikes Billy, humiliates him, and it’s clear that Billy fears him. Susan Hargrove also fears him, and she stands in the background for the entire confrontation, avoiding eye contact, saying nothing. The only time she attempts to intercede is to diffuse the situation, diffuse Neil, when he commands that Billy apologize and quickly shuts up when it’s clear her efforts didn’t work. She then exits the room, first allowing him to leave the room before her. The dynamics here are light years from Joyce/Lonnie/Jonathan.

Ok so. Why am I bringing all of this up? Because, imo, turning Lonnie into a physical abuser cuts at the heart of Joyce’s characterization. Joyce Byers is a fighter. That’s what Bob loved about her. “You fight back,” he told her, in a somewhat awestruck voice. Joyce is not a Susan Hargrove. None of this is to suggest that Susan is to blame for what she has gone through, or that somehow Joyce is better for not being like her. I contrast them because the Duffer brothers do. Joyce will steamroll anyone and anything that gets in her way to protect her boys. If she’s on a mission….if she is trying to save someone…watch out. Making Lonnie a physical abuser so he can be a plot device, or because it makes it easier to hate and villainize him upsets the core of Joyce’s character. And it changes the entire show.

Assertion 2:

Much of Joyce’s inner strength shines through in S2. When S2 begins, Joyce can’t leave Will’s side and still worries about him incessantly. She’s overbearing and “struggles to function” whenever she is not with him. She is forced to re-live the horrors of what her and her family went through every time she goes to Hawkins Lab and worse…she has to place her trust in the very same people who nearly ripped her family apart. Yet, she doesn’t give up, she soldiers on for Jonathan and Will. But so much like S1, S2 Joyce is helpless. She is unable to control what is happening around her. The events of S1-S2 make her reactionary, she gets dragged along by the plot instead of driving the plot.

But there is one bright spot of happiness for her…..Bob. He is the exact opposite of Lonnie in every way. He is kind, thoughtful, hardworking, honest, and trustworthy. He put Joyce first, he tried to bond with and be a parent to Will and Jonathan. And he was willing to jump in to the fray when he had no idea what was going on to save her, save everyone despite being absolutely terrified. Bob Newby. Superhero.

There are some early warning signs that perhaps….we as the audience are not supposed to view this as the perfect match? Jonathan, in particular, doesn’t seem to approve at all, in fact, it downright confuses him. He confides in Will that he doesn’t understand what Joyce sees in him and later gets agitated when he learns that Bob has stayed the night. Hopper, too, seems to struggle with it. And while a lot of that can probably be chalked up to the early signs of jealousy, his forced “I’m happy for you” appears to be at least somewhat tied to his inability to take her dating “Bob the Brain” seriously. Why drop all these hints if it doesn’t mean anything?

It’s the conversation she has with Bob in 2x2 on Halloween that really cements Joyce’s arc and Bob’s central purpose. While they’re dancing to Kenny Rogers, he starts prattling on about moving to Maine. He’s in love with her, he knows being in Hawkins is hard for her. So why not start over again and be a family? “We aren’t a normal family.” She tells Bob. His response is simple: “It could be.” And that moment plants that seed for Joyce. What if they COULD be a happy, nuclear family? What if they COULD leave all that trauma behind them and finally find safety and security? She starts thinking on it so much that by the end of S2 when Bob brings it up again, she’s all but ready. And the Duffers have confirmed, if Bob had survived she would have gone with him to Maine.

But here’s the thing: what if someone else besides Bob had planted the idea in her head? Would she have wanted it any less? Or consider, was it really Bob himself that drove her desire, or was it always lying dormant there waiting to be activated? If she had started dating Hopper after S1 instead and HE had been the one to make the suggestion, would she have desired it any less? Did she really love Bob himself, or the idea of him?

It’s easy to romanticize Bob because he seemed perfect, he represented the happy ending that Joyce wants, that WE WANT for her, but here’s the thing. There is no perfect guy. You can’t move a few states away and leave behind Demogorgons and another dimension that nearly killed your son. That stays with you wherever you go, and you have to face it and deal with it. You can’t run away from trauma, and Joyce has to realize this. Joyce is chasing a mirage. Perhaps Bob was kind of a mirage, too.

Assertion 3:.

The Joyce we see at the end of s2 seems….like she’s going to be okay. She has her boys, Hopper’s friendship. She’s lost Bob but the Gate is closed now, everyone is safe (or so everyone thinks). But then there’s S3 Joyce. She’s lonely, isolated, sad, discontent, and restless. The kids are trying to move on from the events of S1-S2. But she’s unable to. She’s unable to move on from Bob, from her fear that her boys could still be in danger, from the feeling that something is going to go horribly wrong again and she won’t be able to stop it.

So Joyce preemptively reshapes her arc. She decides she is going to put her own house on the market. Bob may not be coming with her but goddammit she is going to move anyway and find safety somewhere else. When she notices the magnets fall off the fridge she is not going to wait and see what happens, SHE is going to go research magnets and solenoids and weird science stuff she doesn’t understand and SHE is going to figure it out and SHE is going bring it to Hopper before shit hits the fan. And when they call the military, SHE is not going to wait around for them to show up and save her kids. She’s going to take action herself.

Thus, Joyce is driving much of the plot in S3, rather than being dragged along by the plot as she was in S1-S2. She is not focusing all of her time and energy on Will and his safety, and reacting to where he is and what he’s doing, she is able to focus on Hopper, El, the Party, the bigger picture. Will kept her focus narrowed, magnets expanded them.

And perhaps most significantly, the magnet obsession is what ultimately saved the day. Joyce is the hero of S3. Think about who saved the day in S1-S2. Who were the heroes? El and Hopper. In S1, El sacrificed herself to kill the Demogorgon and save the Party and Hopper resuscitated Will. In S2, El and Hopper closed the Gate. In S3, who saved the day? El? She had no power. She wasn’t even the one fighting the Meat Flayer. Hopper? He was trapped on the platform. Who closed the Gate and killed the “Meat Flayer?” Joyce. By herself. This ended the threat, this stopped the “Meat Flayer,” this saved El and the Party.

I think it’s easy to miss all of this due to the tonal shift in S3, which added some silliness to the plot lines that didn’t exist in S1-S2. On the surface, obsessing about magnets instead of your son seems ridiculous. But this shift gave Joyce’s character a chance to breathe, a chance to grapple with her own feelings, what she wants, it gave her a chance to just be Joyce instead of Mom™. So S3 is about her, instead of what is happening to her.

And i think, ultimately, this tonal shift in S3 is what allowed that to happen. If the circumstances in S3 were the same as S1-S2, then the Duffers wouldn’t have had this freedom. If we want to see Joyce grow as a character, there has to be time and energy spent on her away from her kids and away from the same closed loop of S1-S2. Which brings me to my next point.

Assertion 4:

Jopper. You can’t expect me to write this long ass meta on Joyce Byers and not talk about Hopper, right?

In early S3 there is obviously a marked shift in her relationship with Hopper. There are no longer secrets (El) or other relationships (Bob) that they can use to hold each other at arm’s length anymore. There are no other adults in town now who understand what they’ve been through. Joyce is effectively co-parenting El with Hopper and it’s clear that he not only asks her for advice often but that they spend a lot of time together. This did not happen between 1 and 2. It’s made fairly clear upfront that Hopper is hopelessly in love with her, but what of Joyce? She’s more difficult to read. And this is due in large part to the fact that she is more complicated than Hopper and her feelings are more complicated than his.

I am not here to argue about whether I think Joyce loves Hopper. This entire analysis is based on the assumption that she does because I think the Duffers and Winona have given us more than enough to go on to draw that conclusion. What I AM here to argue, however, is that Joyce is still grappling with what she wants and (inappropriately so) is attempting to compartmentalize Hopper.

Adult relationships are complicated and particularly for a character like Joyce, who has been to Hell and back a few times, there is added complexity that has to be dealt with and worked through. She’s been in prior relationships before. She knows what it’s like to be in love and she’s felt the pain and grief that comes along with it. She’s been divorced already, had a spouse that abandoned her, children to prioritize over her own love life, and trauma stemming both from the events of 1983-1985 and separate from it. Joyce, especially, is fresh off the train of losing a love interest who she got close to very quickly. You can imagine her hesitation about leaping forwards again with someone else who could die.

There’s your backdrop for Joyce in S3. Throw a healthy dollop of she has feelings for Hopper and then point blank ask her: “What do you want, Joyce?” She could probably tell you that she wants to feel safe again. That she wants to be free of the pain and grief of losing Bob and what happened in S1-S2. If you really can get her to open up (or if you are a mind reader like Murray) you would also find out that she is still holding onto that desire to have a normal, happy family which includes a “nice guy to settle down with.” The thing about Hopper is that he fulfills all of this for her, just messily. Joyce is still looking for that coloring book of life to be filled in by an artist (Bob). Hopper fills it in like a 3 year old with disorganized scribbles that cover the picture but can’t quite stay in the lines. Lonnie is easy: he never even filled in the lines to begin with.

Hopper shares personality traits with both Bob and Lonnie. Like Bob, he makes her feel safe, she can trust him, she knows he cares about her, feels more than friendship for her. But he’s also brash and loud and argumentative and after spending a decade of her life screaming with Lonnie….she doesn’t want that again. He probably at times DOES “remind her of a bad relationship,” but Hopper is not Lonnie. He respects her, treats her like an equal, trusts her judgment. But she can’t escape the constant comparisons.

And what I’ve seen from a lot of the fandom are the same attempts to shove Hopper into the “Lonnie” box or the “Bob” box that Joyce keeps trying to do. S1-S2 Hopper is in the “Bob” box. We like S1-S2 Hopper. But S3 Hopper, man. He is in the “Lonnie” box. He yells and stamps his feet. This Hopper isn’t “good enough” for Joyce.

But here’s my radical proposition: Hopper IS good enough for Joyce if he is who she wants. And he is what she wants. But she needs to let Lonnie and Bob go first.

Lonnie and Bob still have a hold on her and if she is going to be able to take that leap forward with Hopper she needs to put their ghosts to rest. She couldn’t save Bob, but maybe she can save Hopper. Maybe Hopper isn’t perfect and has a temper, but that is ok because he loves her and respects her unlike Lonnie. I think if we see Joyce work through this in S4 and join her on her journey of making the decision to be with Hop and making that choice FOR HERSELF rather than the plot or some other force making that decision for her, the payout is gonna be huge.

Assertion 5:

Finally, I wanted to touch on the common theme of this whole analysis: that despite this inner strength, despite the growth and change her character has undergone, she is still largely handled by the ST fandom with kid gloves. Like she is someone that can’t take care of herself, and who we need to step in and defend and protect against….the world. Here are a few examples I’ve seen over and over:

1) Mischaracterizing S3 Hopper as an “abuser” that Joyce needs “protection” from, much like she needed “protection” from Lonnie.

2) Attempting to turn Jonathan into her protector/her keeper.

3) Defending her when she is in the wrong because she is Mom™ (see i.e. standing Hopper up for their date and being non-apologetic about it.)

4) Analyzing “what is best for Joyce” without thinking about her canon feelings or what SHE wants

As I dissected above, Joyce never needed protection from Lonnie. She doesn’t need protection from Hopper. Or anyone. She doesn’t need Jonathan stepping in for her and she does not need us the fandom, to decide FOR her what she wants and what she can and cannot do. All this does is, ultimately, build her arc around men and strip her of her agency as a character.

All the canon evidence suggests that she is a bad ass. She curb stomps assholes on the regular and saves the day, multiple times. So why is it next to impossible to find any discussion of Joyce that doesn’t involve complaints of what man (Duffer or otherwise) is wronging her at any moment? Is it because it’s just easier to pidgeonhole characters, particularly female characters, into villain/oppressor and “the good guy?” Because if we open her up into complexity outside of being our cinnamon roll mom we worry she could disappoint us? Because we cannot accept that a good female character doesn’t need protection? What happens if Joyce is just a complex person who is both mom and badass? Focused on her kids and herself? Deserving of her own life and respect for her autonomy? Is both selfish and selfless?

Joyce, imo, has one of the most compelling arcs on the entire show. We are introduced to her as a Mom who is barely holding it together already and then loses her son, sending her into a spiral that her inner strength alone carries her through. After nearly losing her kid again, she loses her boyfriend horrifically, and just when she thinks they may have finally escaped it all permanently she has to single-handedly close the Gate, torching the only other man she loves in the process. So she packs her shit up and moves her family away from the danger. She goes from the most reactive character on the show to, perhaps, the most proactive one.

She may not have “powers,” she may not be able to effectively wield a gun, but she can knee an asshole in the crotch and that makes her a hero to me. I say let her be everything she is, allow her to explore her own wants even if they are imperfect, let her make mistakes and stand up for and protect herself, and let her be her own person outside of the character arcs of other male characters.

Andddddd end scene.

#joyce byers #jim hopper #jopper #jonathan byers #lonnie byers #thank you for coming to my long winded ted talk part 2 #aka joyce byers could beat my ass and i am here for it #also this got me all kinds of hype for s4 lemme tell you its gonna be JOYCES SEASON #anyway if you read this please give me your thoughts i love to hear what other people agree and disagree about #i get so wrapped up in these im sorry they're so long jfc #meta

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farmerlan · 4 years

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Farmer Lan’s Rewatch Guide to The Untamed - Episode 2

SPOILER CAUTION APPLIES.

Alright buds we are going to get right into it - no time to waste!

[WWX hangs out by a river/well with XPG (Little Apple aka Xiao Ping Guo aka XPG from now on), cultivator scene with the demon compass argument happens (cute), A-Yan gives WWX an apple and she’s clearly not mentally all there, mountain top A-Yan dance scene with her mom disclosing her tragic story and father’s death to WWX.]

Differences from the novel:

There’s some minor choronological and setting differences between here and Chapter 6. A-Yan was not the person who gave WWX the apple, it was a random girl. There were two separate scenes with cultivators trying to use the compass in the novel, but it was condensed into one in the drama.

WWX bumps into A-Yan in the town at the foot of DFS and hears of her story from townspeople. A-Yan’s story is essentially the same in both versions, but the novel also includes an additional story about how a slovenly/good-for-nothing oaf became seemingly wealthy and suddenly wanted to get married and settle down, except he died on the night of the wedding. This would later be used by WWX to further support his narrative of what’s behind the ‘soulless people’ cases when he explains it to the Gusu disciples.

[Cut to WWX in a forest, A WILD JIN LING APPEARS! Man, I forgot what a little shit he was when he first arrived <3. WWX and JL runs into each other, except JL thinks he is MXY, banter ensues, WWX traps JL with his paper man and drops that awful YOUR MOM line to JL.

Banter continues until JC brings his posse and incredibly sharp jawline to the scene. Seriously, damn. Things are about to get physical before LWJ arrives. Shade is thrown between JC and Gusu & Co., JC literally looks like he is in pain and why oh why does nothing ever work out for him as his subordinate reports that all the spirit nets have been destroyed. JC decides against picking a fight and tells JL he better BRING HIS A GAME TO THE HUNT before dismissing him. LWJ dismisses the rest of the disciples and walks away, leaving WWX alone. Cut to WWX remembering JC + JYL by the river and then he overhears JL’s true parentage and feels baaaaaaad man.]

In the novel, there is further discussion of the LLJ sect and especially JGS in Chapter 7. Seeing JL’s reaction to him as MXY, WWX then correctly deduces that MXY is actually the illegitimate son of none other than JGS, who was known for his philandering ways.

It was also clarified in the novel that locked within the ‘paper man’ WWX sic-ed on JL was the ghost of a man who had died from gluttony, hence why JL could not get up. He was basically being sat on by a really fat man.

A bigger deal is made in the novel of how LWJ is someone who “appears where there is trouble” – JL says this to him in a sarcastic way, but it’s a common theme that runs throughout the novel, that although he can be considered an extremely prominent figure, he takes the time to help or show up no matter how ‘low level’ the situation is. It’s a sign of his strong moral character that nothing is too beneath his attention.

The situation of the night hunt itself is also explained a little bit more in detail – JL is turning sixteen this year, and this night hunt at DFS is basically a debutante ball for him as you have to be past a certain age to participate in hunts. So, in order to make sure he claims the top prize, JC made sure to come with him and also set up the spirit nets. Aww, they ruined his present!

Fun fact: JC very nearly came to blows with LWJ in the novel but chose not to do so because a) he had to consider sect relations between Gusu and Yunmeng and b) he wasn’t sure he would win since they’ve never fought before. HA.

[Gusu disciples run into old man grave caretaker, these are Wen graves! He asks them to go visit the Tiannu Temple and they move on before he can tell them that the goddess statue moooves. Spoopy. WWX also happens upon the Wen graves. Scene between him and WQ and he realizes it’s the statue stirring shit and JL is about to step in the shit that has been stirred.

Scene in the temple with Gusu disciples and JL, shit starts going down, WWX and Gusu disciples gather outside. Gusu disciples realize they ran out of flares and WWX is all like haha prepare to be punished! WWX clarifies the difference between soul-eaters and the goddess status, links it to the ongoing issues with A-Yan. LJY calls him out – he’s only pretending to be CRAZY! ]

There’s no old grave caretaker in the novel and there’s no Wen graves scene. There are ancient tombs around the area that the Gusu disciples explored, but it was only mentioned in passing as part of the larger conversation around what exactly was plaguing the mountain. What happens in the novel is – WWX encounters a spirit dressed in fancy burial clothes, realizes something is wrong because that kind of spirit (the spirit of a corpse) should not be on DFS, puts two and two together and goes off to find JL.

The scenario of WWX explaining what exactly ‘it’ is to the Gusu disciples closely follows that of the novel, except he also adds the explanation around the slovenly oaf’s story. Basically, oaf prays to the goddess statue to be wealthy, the goddess granted him his wish but took away his soul on the night of the marriage. Hence why WWX encountered the wealthy corpse spirit - essentially the goddess split open his grave and gave the oaf the funeral/afterlife offerings that were buried within it, displacing the spirit in the process.

Also the goddess statue ate some humans in the novel but this was probably too graphic for the drama lol.

[JL shows up with the statue hot on his heels, WWX is like but wait we sealed the statue off before! WWX then builds and plays a makeshift bamboo flute. LJY changes his mind – MXY is still crazy after all, and on top of that he’s also a garbage flute player, ha. WN shows up and WWX is all ???, illusion is revealed, WWX posits whoever did this wanted lure out WN, a mysterious man in black scuttles off in the background.

Men rush WN, WN is like, uhm, y’all ain’t shit. WWX then plays WangXian to suppress WN’s rage, draws him towards himself and then we have THE REUNION – eyes meet, lovey-dovey wrist-gripping scene ensues.]

Interestingly, the drama shows JL being thrown to the ground and trying to scurry away/flinching as the statue advanced on him. In the novel, he actually stood right within reach and thought, “If I can’t kill her right here and now, I’ll die – but so what?!” Basically, he was 100% ready to kill the statue or die trying before WN showed up.

In the drama, we weren’t specifically clued in to the fact that WN is currently unconscious due to the nails in his head. In the novel, WWX realizes this instantly because Wen Ning was not capable of sentient thought and had to rely on WWX’s orders.

The drama hints that the whole thing was staged by the mysterious man in black caught scampering away – in the novel, this is not the case. There was no other person ‘operating behind the scenes’, this whole incident with the statue was not an illusion.

The reunion scene is as it happens in the novel, gripping of wrists and all. Ha. I love you directors.

[WWX is outed as the person who summoned WN and JC is like well well well, Shady’s back. LWJ tries to protect WWX, WWX tries to run away but gets whipped and decides to play crazy as JC wonders why Zidian didn’t work.

WWX appears to faint and wishes to go back to the time to 16 years ago, when he was at Lotus Pier and we start our flashback arc. Cute scene where he gets a sugar rabbit (HA I see you) for JYL. They decide to rest in a tavern. JC bickers with WWX and grouses that JYL and JFM always defends him and is reminded that being free-spirited is considered a virtue by the YMJ sect.]

The confrontation between JC, WWX and LWJ follows the novel partly (the whipping, the face-off between JC and LWJ), but the novel goes into more detail.

For one, LJY is like, ‘wait didn’t YOU kill WWX? Why are you saying he’s back?’ to JC in the drama. In the novel, no one claims that JC was the one who killed WWX in the novel – only that he was present at the battle at Nightless City along with the Yunmeng Jiang sect.

Also, in the novel, someone in JC’s sect basically tells says that there’s no way MXY is WWX because WWX would have chosen someone cooler. WWX was flirtatious with girls and a good-looking dude and MXY is a gay lunatic riding a donkey. And also, his flute skills are so, so subpar compared to WWX. Ha. WWX secretly grouses that he would kneel to anyone who’s able to play a nice melody on a dollar-store flute after not having practiced for 13 years. Touché.

In an attempt to get both JC and LWJ off his case, WWX tries to disgust the both of them by going, “JC is NOT my type but you know who is my type? LWJ uwu he’s so attractive” but it totally fails because LWJ does not take the bait. Instead, he says “Well then, I’m taking this man back to the Lan sect with me.” And that’s the end of Chapter 10. See comments on the flashback/timeskip in the summary section below.

The last conversation JC and JYL shares is very interesting. It’s not in the novel, but it really plays into the narrative that “WWX embodies more of Yunmeng Jiang’s values than JC even though he is not a Jiang”, which is also a theme in the novel and kind of a sticking point for JC obviously. One can say that JC takes after his mom, and WWX takes more after JFM.

Overall Thoughts

This is where the divergence from the novel plot line begins to get a little more serious. The novel employs a series of flashbacks scattered throughout the book whereas the drama is essentially one long flashback from Episode 2 through Episode 33. It obviously makes more narrative sense to arrange it that way in a drama series in order to make it less confusing, especially since they’re using the same actors for past and present WWX/LWJ, but just keep that in mind.

With that said, I will stop at Chapter 10 for the purpose of comparing it to Episode 2. Chapter 11 and 12 have essentially both been removed from the drama besides for the cold springs scene, which was also modified. I will discuss these two chapters when we get to Episode 33 (wow, will we ever get there??). Episode 3 picks up at Chapter 13, which is the beginning of the Gusu arc. Chapters will start jumping around (in the novel, the Gusu arc is only Chapters 13-18, and then the Wen Sect/Tortoise of Slaughter is a separate flashback from Chapters 51-59) so I am going to try my best to match them up lol.

Ending the summary on another cute note, in the novel LWJ’s presence is often described as being accompanied by the light scent of sandalwood, which is what WWX smelled before bumping into him in the novel.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan wangji #wei wuxian #the untamed #episode 2 #cql #魔道祖师 #recap

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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colour me blue, chapter one (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 7422

Vanessa knows as much about the heart as any cardiologist in a hospital.

The four chambers and the valves that connect them. The way that they’re responsible for pumping blood around the entire body, spreading oxygen to where it’s needed the most and keeping the cells alive. How the heart is like the engine of a finely tuned machine, a ticking clock beating out a rhythm that the rest of the body falls into step with.

Vanessa also knows what happens when the heart begins to fail.

AN: This fic started as a drabble to take a break from my WIPs but then turned into its own beast. It was…an absolute process to write but definitely pushed me in ways that helped me grow as a writer, which is always a good thing. CW in this fic for medical terms, hospital stays, uncertainties re: long term illness. I usually don’t like to give away spoilers, but I will say that there will no main character deaths in this fic, just to be clear. Writ is the absolute best - not only for giving me the prompt, but helping me brainstorm, pushing me to keep writing when I was ready to leave this fic in my google drive forever, and being the best encouragement one could ever ask for. They deserve the world <3

Vanessa knows as much about the heart as any cardiologist in a hospital.

Vanessa also knows what happens when the heart begins to fail.

Her dad keels over during Christmas Day brunch when she’s five, clutching the dining room table with a grip that loosens as he falls off his chair and onto the floor. Vanessa doesn’t understand what death means at the time, not really, at his funeral. The fact that her dad isn’t away on a work trip, that he isn’t ever coming back. That he isn’t going to walk in the door one night in his uniform the way that he always does.

That the stone in the cemetery bearing his name is a finality, a marker that takes his place in this world, now that he’s no longer here.

Vanessa is twelve and her lungs feel like they’re clawing their way out of her chest in gym class, when the teacher is making them run faster, damnit. She doesn’t know that she isn’t supposed to feel like she is going to pass out when she jogs, or as if her insides are collapsing inside of her ribs. She’s not supposed to be seeing white spots in her vision as some of her classmates carry her to the sidelines when her body can’t push her any farther. She shouldn’t be constantly lightheaded, grabbing onto tables and bookshelves and chairs just to keep herself upright.

There’s appointment after appointment and test after test, specialist after specialist because Vanessa’s mother is fiercely protective, overwhelmingly worried after their unit of three becomes a unit of two. She pushes and pushes and pushes until they get an answer, but it’s one that makes Vanessa’s mom nearly keel over, too.

It’s genetic. Autosomal dominant. Passed on from Vanessa’s dad, making the walls in the chambers of her heart stiffer, rougher. Keeping them from being able to properly pump blood to where her body needs it the most. Enough to create the possibility of heart failure at any time, when the well oiled machine will simply crumble under the pressure.

Vanessa’s told that she’s lucky that they’ve caught it so early. That this means they can test solutions and try different medications to maybe make it easier for her heart to pump, to reduce the strain that it constantly shoulders. When the medications don’t work it’s okay, really, she’s told, because there are less invasive surgical options. Ones to try that don’t put her under for that long or have an extended recovery period and will allow her to bounce back quickly.

Except that she never does. Her heart never heals, never reaches its maximum potential. Hell, her heart never lets her be a regular person, because it’s breaking down more and more no matter what the doctors do. No matter how many surgeries she has.

Vanessa’s twenty five and has to quit her job because she’s used up all of her sick days, and because getting up out of bed in the morning is impossible when her body feels so weak.

Her mother hopes, prays, lights candles for the possibility that things will get better. That Vanessa will bounce back, that she’ll get to go back to living without having it snatched away from her like it had been from her father.

Except life doesn’t feel like it’s being snatched away, to Vanessa. It’s being dangled in front of her, possibilities that she isn’t quite able to reach because she’s too weak and can’t exert herself because her heart can’t take it, and maybe, just maybe, another procedure will work. Another surgery.

Until she’s twenty six and lying in a hospital bed and in complete heart failure because nothing has worked, and she can’t walk the five steps to the bathroom without the support of a walker.

Because Vanessa needs a new heart.

Vanessa’s been in the hospital for three months and her current nurse on the cardiology floor is making her scowl.

“It’s not going to be forever. Probably just a few weeks. Then when the floor is less busy, they’ll bring you back.” Asia’s trying to explain why they’re moving Vanessa to another unit the best she can, Vanessa knows. Vanessa just doesn’t get why it has to be her.

“I’ve been stuck here long enough. Why are y’all moving me? Why not someone else on the floor?” Vanessa crosses her arms, careful not to tug on the various wires attached to her chest that are connected to the monitors behind her displaying her heart activity.

“Because apparently the universe wanted to make my day harder and give me a headache, like the one that I’m getting from this argument with you.” Asia lightly swats her shoulder before her features soften. “Look. They don’t move people to other floors unless they’re stable. Which must mean that the team needs to keep less of an eye on you, which is a good thing.”

“I guess.” Vanessa grumbles as she says it, because still. Being the one that gets booted off of the cardiac unit because it is too full isn’t a good feeling, not in the least. Instead, it makes her feel like she doesn’t matter to the team, not if they’re fine with pushing her somewhere else.

“Look on the bright side,” Asia tugs on Vanessa’s phone charger from where it’s hanging off of the side of her bed, blending in with the various wires that are protruding from Vanessa’s frame. “Maybe the room you’re moving to will have an actual working outlet.”

“It better.” The electrical outlet closest to Vanessa’s bed is sporadic, often failing to charge her phone when she plugs it in. She uses the call button more often than not to get the nurses to plug her phone into outlets that she can’t reach from her bed, ignoring their muttered comments of that’s not what the call button is for, Vanjie.

“Besides, you get to bond with a new crop of nurses.” Asia fiddles with the monitors above Vanessa’s bed. “Aren’t we boring you yet?

“What are you talking about? I love kiki-ing with y’all.” It’s true. Being in the hospital for an extended period of time can be…lonely. There’s only so long that friends and family will continue to visit, before they realize that the hospital is Vanessa’s new normal. Before they get bored of her.

Before they stop visiting.

But she’s got nurses and therapists close to her age, ones that she’s trying her best to bond with. It’s worked with most of them, especially Asia. The cardiac nurses get her. They’re nice, they gossip with her about their lives and feel like coworkers, at most. Coworkers that give her medication and help her transfer out of her bed and try to keep her alive.

“I’ll miss your ass, that’s for sure.” Vanessa sighs as Asia fiddles with the electrode stuck to her collarbone.

Asia snorts. “Will you miss me prodding your arm at 7 a.m. to take your vitals?”

“Better you than some random whack nurse I don’t know.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to them before you even meet them. I heard the general internal medicine team is nice. Kameron is, at least.” Asia’s voice rises slightly as she says the name, and it piques Vanessa’s interest.

“Who’s Kameron?”

“No one.”

Vanessa narrows her eyes. “That sounded hella suspicious.”

“She’s a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” Vanessa nudges Asia’s side, laughing as she scowls.

“So goddamn nosy. Tell me why the other patients don’t needle me like you do?”

Vanessa grins. “‘Cause I know you love spilling shit too, that’s why. I’ll be sure to say hi to Kameron for you.”

Asia’s cheeks turn slightly pink. “Don’t you start.”

The general internal medicine unit is chaotic.

Doctors, nurses, family members running back and forth between rooms, instructions being yelled left and right, beeping machines that somehow did not seem as alarming when Vanessa had still been on the cardiology unit.

While on the cardiology floor, Vanessa had shared her hospital room with a pleasant enough elderly lady who slept for most of the day. So much, in fact, that Vanessa had never actually spoken to her.

Vanessa’s worried about who they’ll place her with now, as she’s wheeled into her new room. Someone in the throes of delirium who will be up at all hours of the night? Someone who turns the TV up way too high, not letting her sleep? Someone who has too much family that comes to visit, meaning that the room will never be quiet again?

But the girl lying in the bed closest to the window is none of those things. Her hair, albeit mussed, is pulled back into a high ponytail, and her makeup-free face is somehow the most beautiful thing Vanessa’s ever seen.

“Hi.” The girl waves at her, a tentative smile on her face and Vanessa realizes, coincidentally, that she has forgotten the entirety of the English language.

Vanessa’s normally bold, brash enough that she has the confidence to go after girls that she’s into. Except that it’s easier when she’s wearing more than a hospital gown, when she’s standing on her own two feet and not feeling like she’s weaker than a year-old baby.

Vanessa squeaks out something that sounds close to a hi, and wants to groan when it makes the girl’s brow furrow.

“You okay? Not in too much pain, are you? I can call the nurse with my call bell-”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Vanessa mumbles the words under her breath, trying her best to tame the mess of her hair with her fingers as discreetly as she can.

“Okay.” The girl shifts in her bed slightly to face her, and Vanessa notices the way that she flinches in pain as she does. “So, fellow inmate. What are you in for?”

The words make Vanessa let out a surprised laugh, make her feel less wound up. “Got a heart that’s been right messing with me.”

The girl raises an eyebrow. “Why, did someone break it?” Her expression is deadpan as she says it, and it makes Vanessa snort.

“Funny. What about you?”

“Appendix nuclear explosion.” The girl points to her abdomen, and Vanessa’s eyes widen at the sutures that criss cross it. “They didn’t get it fast enough and now it’s a mess that they’re still trying to clean up.”

“Damn.” Vanessa lets out a whistle. “So, Miss App-app-appendick, what’s your name?”

“Appendick?” The girl holds back a giggle.

“What?” Vanessa shrugs. “It sounds right, don’t it?”

“Close enough.” The girl’s smiles are reaching her eyes, and the sight makes the tightness in Vanessa’s chest lessen, if only a little. “Brooke. Yours?”

“Vanessa.” She’s not sure, really, why she doesn’t tell Brooke that her name is Vanjie, considering that most people call her that, anyway. But something about the girl makes her want to hold back on it, see what the girl thinks of her actual name.

“Vanessa. I like it.” A small smile builds on the edge of curve of Brooke’s lip, and for a second, Vanessa feels her regular confidence flow back towards her.

That is, at least, until a nurse bounds into the room, muttering about how it’s about time that Vanessa goes to the bathroom, since she hasn’t had a bowel movement since yesterday, and we can’t have that, can we?

Oh, well. She’ll get her game back, somehow.

Vanessa finds out that she likes having a roommate who’s actually awake for most of the day.

Brooke is fun to talk to, almost enough to sometimes make Vanessa forget that she’s stuck in a hospital bed. Almost. Vanessa learns that Brooke is a ballet dancer, part of the corps and working towards becoming a soloist. She’d been performing in a matinee when her appendix ruptured, managing to hold off from collapsing in pain until the curtain call, when she could safely bend over in the wings without any audience members seeing her.

Brooke’s form underneath her gown is toned, long, looking every part of the graceful dancer she is. Vanessa’s lying if she says that she isn’t mesmerized by the way that Brooke reaches over to grab water from her bedside table, especially with how it’s done with an air of delicateness, lightness.

“What about you? What’s your story?” Brooke’s propped up by pillows, turned on her side slightly when she asks the question. Her grey eyes aren’t cool but rather they’re warm, inviting, waiting for Vanessa to talk.

Vanessa, for her part, pauses.

“Oh, y’know,” she tries to keep her face light, her voice casual, “Some shit happening with my heart. Felt some weird beating the other day and they wanna look into it more.”

It’s a lie, maybe, but she doesn’t regret it.

Ever since she was young, Vanessa’s only been known as the sick girl. The girl who’s always in the hospital. The girl who had missed so much school when she was a kid that she’d had to be taught by a teacher in the hospital. The girl who is unable to keep a job for too long because she has to take off work again and again, days when she’s so weak she can’t get out of bed, other days spent in clinics and at appointments with specialists monitoring her useless excuse of a heart.

Vanessa hates it. Being defined by something that she has no control over, something that she wish could fix itself because it’s taken over way, way too much of her life. For once, just once, she doesn’t want it to be a big deal. Even though she’s in a hospital.

Brooke, for her part, buys it. “Wow. Hope they find out. Nothing too serious, you think?”

“Nah.” Vanessa shrugs. “I’ll be out of here in no time.”

God, she wishes.

“What do you do for work?” Brooke looks at her expectantly and it surprises Vanessa, almost, how fast she lets the subject change, because she’s not used to it. Her friends, her family draw out conversations about her shitty heart for ages, fake pitying expressions on their faces that Vanessa wishes she had the power to slap away.

“Makeup artist.” Vanessa grins when Brooke’s face lights up. “I work at MAC, and got a few freelance clients on the side.”

So what if MAC shifts are far and few between because she’s not a dependable employee anymore? She’s trying. It helps to be in a job where she gets to rest, sit down quite a bit. Her body wouldn’t be able to handle it otherwise.

“Is that why you still have mascara on while in the hospital?” Brooke’s smile is cheeky and it makes Vanessa snort.

“Maybe. Can’t ruin my brand and be fully makeup-free.”

“You’re still cute without it, though.” Brooke winks at her, or at least Vanessa thinks so, and the sight makes her heart do a little flip in her chest. Is she flirting with her? Vanessa can’t tell. But she’s absolutely going to play into it.

“So are you, you tall, leggy model.” The words leave Vanessa’s lips before she can stop herself, but Brooke is grinning, thank god, hasn’t taken them in a bad way.

“Leggy, huh? You can tell even under these blankets?”

Vanessa shrugs. “You can’t get up and show me, so a girl’s gotta assume. How tall are you?”

“Five eleven.”

“What?”

Vanessa’s mouth drops open and Brooke’s laughing, laughing at her, but goddamn. Brooke really is an Amazon.

“Why, how tall are you?” Brooke can’t tell from all the blankets that Vanessa is under, but she doesn’t want to answer, really, not after hearing that Brooke is five eleven.

“Five three.” Vanessa mumbles the words, scowling when Brooke claps a hand over her mouth. “What?”

“You’re tiny!”

“Am not.”

“Practically pocket-sized.”

“I’m tall in personality!” Vanessa huffs and crosses her arms. She’s not that short, she isn’t.

But Brooke’s still grinning. “So tall. Though I do like short girls.”

Vanessa’s brain is about to short circuit. Is Brooke flirting with her? Or is the extended time being cooped up in a hospital bed making her brain go a little bit loopy?

Vanessa normally has game. But right now she can’t do much more than stare at Brooke open mouthed, something that Brooke is clearly enjoying.

“You’ll let bugs fly into your mouth if you keep it open any longer.”

“Shut up.”

They’re eating shitty hospital food for lunch and Brooke is antsy beside Vanessa.

“Okay, what?” Vanessa turns to Brooke because she’s been tapping the railing of her bed for the last half an hour. Vanessa wouldn’t press the issue except for the fact that Brooke keeps biting her lip, clinking her fork on her plate, her eyes all shifty.

“Nothing.” Brooke looks away from her, down at the pasta on her tray that doesn’t appear to be very appetizing, from the way that most of it is still in the bowl.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

Brooke bites her lip. “They rounded this morning while you were asleep.”

“As they do every morning at 8 a.m., yeah.”

“They wanna do another exploratory surgery.”

“For your appendix?” Vanessa’s eyes widen. Brooke’s complications must be worse than previously thought.

Brooke pauses. “Hey, look at you pronouncing appendix correctly.”

“Shut up.” Vanessa sticks her tongue out at her. “We’re talking about you right now.”

Brooke sighs. “They wanna see if they’ve missed things. I mean, aside from the first surgery, I’ve never really had any, and I don’t want to go under again. What if things go wrong?”

“Hey, hey.” Vanessa wishes that Brooke were closer so that she could reach over, squeeze her hand. “They do tons of surgeries every day here. They know what they’re doing.”

“But what if this time, they don’t?”

“You don’t know that. But you gotta trust that they do without assuming the worst before it even happens.”

“I guess.” Brooke sighs, and Vanessa wants to tell her, she really does, about the various procedures that she’s gone through as a child to make Brooke feel better, but at the same time…

It’s nice not to be the focus of medical attention for once.

“When are they thinking of scheduling it for?”

”A week.”

“Does this mean I can film you coming out of sedation?”

“What?” Brooke looks over at her, lets out a laugh, the exact effect that Vanessa wants.

“Bet you’ll say hysterical shit.”

“You better not.”

Vanessa grins. “Sorry, didn’t hear you there. Can’t wait to hear all the crazy things you say.”

“Nooo.” Brooke whines, and Vanessa doesn’t want to tell her that she won’t come back to the unit until the sedation has worn off, because her reaction is making her crack up.

“Maybe you’ll spill all your deepest darkest secrets.”

“Absolutely not-”

“Maybe you’ll confess your love for your nurse.” Vanessa holds back a laugh at Brooke’s look of horror.

“Anita’s at least 60!”

“And quite the looker. Hey, maybe you’re into cougars.”

“Ugh.” Brooke makes a face but she’s grinning too, Vanessa can see it. “Definitely not my type.”

“So what is your type?” Vanessa meets Brooke’s gaze with a raised eyebrow, a challenge. Two can play at this game.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Brooke wastes no time in answering, winking again, and Vanessa’s definitely not imagined it this time around.

She’s glad that Brooke goes to take a sip of her coffee, so she can try to come up with at least something coherent. Sure, she’s become more used to being Brooke’s hospital roommate as the days go by, but her gay ass sure hasn’t yet.

Vanessa’s cardiologist and physiotherapist and nurse pop into her room one day while Brooke’s asleep.

“Bad time?” Nina’s holding a clipboard, rifling through the sheets in front of her. Vanessa’s known her cardiologist for long enough that she doesn’t have to call her Dr. West anymore. It’s both a great and terrible feeling.

Vanessa gives her a look. “You really think I got anything else to do right now?”

Her physiotherapist, Kameron, snorts, though tries to stifle it under Nina’s gaze.

“Fair enough.” Nina leans against the wall, peeking over at Brooke. “Are you worried about her overhearing? We can move you outside into the hallway if you want-”

“She’s asleep. Doesn’t matter.” Vanessa waves a hand. “So, any news on the waitlist?”

“Moved up a couple spots, though not by much.” Nina’s face is apologetic, and it makes Vanessa want to scowl.

“Why am I so damn low on it?” Vanessa doesn’t want to show how scared she really is about it. She’s been waiting for months, months, unable to do much or exert herself lest her heart give out on her. Waiting for the other shoe to drop and for things to go south. It’s like she’s walking on a minefield, about to step on explosives at any time that will finally take her out.

She wishes it could stop.

“You’ll move up soon enough. These things are dynamic, they fluctuate.” Nina’s words don’t even look as if they’re convincing to herself, which bodes well for Vanessa. “In the meantime, we’re thinking we may trial another medication. We’ll see if it helps with oxygenation a little bit more.”

“Sure, why not.” Vanessa’s resigned as she says it, because really, will it even make a difference? Will anything actually change for the better?

After so many years, she’s stopped hoping. It’s hard to hope when it feels like she has no fight left in her anymore.

Her situation has been the same since before she was a teenager, and nothing’s changed. She’s still living a half life, one that she can’t fully enjoy because she always has the worries in the back of her mind. Ones that keep her away from everything that she wants to be able to do.

But she has to tolerate it. She has no choice, not when her doctors and nurses are walking away, waving at her as they go to consult on another patient. Not when they have nothing left to give to her.

Vanessa and Brooke fall into a routine, of sorts. They binge shows, alternating episodes of Schitt’s Creek and 90 Day Fiancé because they can. They complain about the shitty hospital food, trying to bribe the nurses to get them something better from the cafeteria, a tactic that never quite works.

It’s another week before Vanessa meets Brooke’s family, arriving in a flurry of buttoned up peacoats to fawn at her bedside.

“Honestly, Brooke Lynn, why do you have to work so far away from home?” Brooke’s mother is smoothing her hair, tucking it behind her ears, and Brooke looks younger than Vanessa’s ever seen her.

“I can’t control which ballet company gives me a job, Mom.” Brooke’s eyes are happy, when her sister and her mom pull up chairs at her bedside. It makes Vanessa’s heart tug, just a little.

“Still, I wish you were closer and we didn’t have to take two flights to get here.” Brooke’s mother sheds her coat on her chair. “Though the food they gave us was quite nice.”

Brooke snorts. “You’re the only person who actually likes airport food.”

Brooke’s sister turns towards Vanessa then, and the sudden eye contact makes her freeze. Vanessa hadn’t wanted to bother Brooke and her family; she had wanted to look busy, but it’s too late, because Brooke’s sister is waving at her.

“B, you didn’t even introduce your room buddy.”

Brooke wrinkles her nose. “Room buddy?”

“Hey, it fits.” Brooke’s sister shrugs.

Vanessa finds her voice then, because Brooke’s family looks nice enough. “Vanessa.”

“Nice to meet you, dear.” Brooke’s mom has kind eyes and Vanessa feels a longing in her heart that isn’t being caused by her existing cardiac problems.

“Nice to meet y’all, too.” Vanessa grabs a book from her bedside table, buries her face into it while Brooke and her mom and sister continue talking, trying to ignore the realization that her own mom hasn’t visited in weeks.

It’s not her mom’s fault, it’s really not. Vanessa has to remind herself of that. She gets it.

The fact that her father died of the same thing makes it…eerie. Vanessa feels like a ticking time bomb, one her mom clearly doesn’t want to watch as she slowly reaches end of her timer, when history will inevitably repeat itself. Vanessa understands why her mom wants to stay away and avoid watching her daughter go down the same route. Save herself from the pain as much as possible and instead burying herself in her work.

It doesn’t stop Vanessa from feeling lonely, though.

She misses having people. Having her mom brush her hair out of her face, hold her hand while she’s getting tests done. Be there to listen with her with the doctors spew more and more predictions about how her heart is going to hold up.

It’s not that Vanessa can’t handle the burden, be the foundation on her own. She just misses having reinforcements, strengths around it.

She misses her mom.

Brooke’s mom and sister leave for the night, but not before bringing the two of them McDonalds. The sight of the bags, with the mouthwatering smell from the food inside wafting around the room, makes Vanessa pause.

Technically, she’s supposed to avoid foods with excess sodium, as the extra salt makes her heart work harder than it’s supposed to, wears it down faster. But at the same time, she can’t bring herself to care.

She picks up a burger.

“I haven’t had McDonalds in ages.” Vanessa’s missed burgers, she really has, because there’s only so much bland hospital food she’s been able to take.

“I’m more of a Swiss Chalet fan, myself.” Brooke’s still munching on her burger, but Vanessa tilts her head.

“The hell is that?”

“Food place in Canada. Lots of roast chicken and gravy.” Brooke’s eyes are already getting a wistful, a faraway look in her eyes as she’s thinking about it.

Vanessa wrinkles her nose, because it doesn’t sound that appetizing. “That’s some white people fast food.”

Brooke shrugs. “It’s good. The gravy is nectar from the gods.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” No wonder Brooke doesn’t mind the hospital food as much. Vanessa looks over at her, the way she’s tossing back some French fries. “Real nice of your mom and sister to bring me some food, too.”

Brooke smiles, her face all warm and Vanessa’s glad that she has support from her family, at least. “They’re great.”

Brooke pauses then, looking over at her, and Vanessa can tell that she’s figuring out how to word a question. One that Vanessa already knows is coming.

“So, I’ve never seen yours come to visit.” Brooke’s voice is light as she looks down at her food, clearly trying to avoid eye contact. “Do they live far, too?”

Vanessa bites her lip, takes a bite of her burger to give herself time before she has to answer. “Oh, y’know. My mom works a lot, that’s all. Besides, we talk here and there on the phone.”

It’s a lie, and Vanessa knows it, and Brooke does too, from the way Vanessa can see the gears turning in her head. “I’ve never heard you talk to anyone on the phone except-”

“It’s while you’re asleep, drop it.” Vanessa scowls, crossing her arms. She doesn’t mean to snap, she doesn’t, but she doesn’t want to talk about the fact that her mom doesn’t fucking visit and that her friends are too busy with their own lives and settling down and she’s been left behind.

She doesn’t want to.

“Okay, sorry.” Brooke holds her hands up in defeat and Vanessa almost feels bad. Almost. “Won’t bring it up.”

“Good.” Vanessa takes a bite of her burger, chewing with a little more force than necessary, and she wonders why she’s feeling a bit more out of breath than usual.

Kameron knocks on their door while Vanessa and Brooke are discussing the finer points of the latest season of Stranger Things.

“I’m just saying, the ending was a cop out-”

“Was not- ”

“Ahem.” Kameron’s grinning at both of them when Vanessa’s about to talk about the next potential season. “As much as I want to join in this discussion, I gotta take you one after the other for physio.”

Vanessa lets out a grumble that is mirrored by Brooke, and it makes Kameron snort. “Y’all are quite a pair. So, who’s gonna suffer first?”

Vanessa’s mouth drops open when Brooke immediately points in her direction. “Traitor!”

Brooke shrugs. “You snooze, you lose.”

Vanessa huffs but does her best to sit up nonetheless, letting Kameron bring her walker over to the side of her bed.

“Can I ditch this thing yet? I feel old as hell.” Vanessa hates the damn walker. It only serves to remind her of how weak she’s gotten.

“As soon as you can walk the length of the unit without near collapsing on me, it’s gone.” Kameron’s hand is on her back to steady her as she stands. Vanessa hates how much she has to lean her weight on the thing.

“Walkers are for the elderly.” Nonetheless, Vanessa clutches the handles to keep her balance.

“Technically, it’s a rollator.”

“Giving it a fancy Transformers name ain’t helping.”

Brooke’s watching them with a thoroughly entertained expression. “You always this much fun in physio sessions, Vanessa?”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at her. “I’m a delight.”

“Not sure if that’s the word I’d use.” Kameron snickers, poking her shoulder when she begins to protest. “C’mon, time to walk and build up that strength.”

Vanessa’s drained after one lap around the unit, gripping the handles of the walker with shaky hands and Kameron’s hands keeping her half-upright. By the time they get back to the room, Vanessa’s bed feels like heaven rather than the prison that it usually is.

“You good?” Brooke’s brow is furrowed in concern as she sits up from her own bed, ready for her turn to walk with Kameron.

“Yeah, fine.” So what if the words come out in a slight wheeze? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean anything. “I’m good.”

Except that Vanessa feels like her body’s made of lead, pulling her down, down, down into the earth to never be able to get up again. Not with the way she’s exhausted from just one lap around the floor.

“That tired you out more than usual.” Kameron’s brow knits in concern as she lowers the head of Vanessa’s bed.

“I’m fine.” Still, Vanessa has to close her eyes, catch her breath as she says it. Not a convincing lie.

Thankfully, Kameron lets the subject drop, and part of Vanessa hopes that Brooke’s laps around the floor take longer so that she has a second on her own to contemplate how messed up her life really has become.

“So, she says it’s to match the ‘rainforest’ theme that’s been chosen for the party, right? Well, get this. She goes orange and green. Orange and green! Who fucking wants that for a look?”

Brooke’s laughing at everything Vanessa is saying and Vanessa can’t help the way she preens a little, embraces it. “What did it turn out like?”

“Oh, hideous.” Vanessa waves a hand, laughing when Brooke claps a hand over her mouth. “She looked like a fucking weird snake creature.”

“Oh my god. You’re ridiculous.” Brooke’s giggling, and Vanessa never, ever wants to stop hearing the sound of it. “Are you this indulgent with all your clients?”

“Only the crazy bitches who’d try and fight me if I didn’t do exactly what they wanted. Even if the final look was more scary than anything.” Vanessa pauses, remembering the client, along with every other person she’s done makeup for. “Didn’t want them to speak with no manager.”

“You should do my makeup sometime. It would be fun?” Brooke phrases it like a question, and her smile is tentative, but it makes Vanessa gasp, try and sit up, before falling right back down on her pillow.

“Are you kidding me? Absolutely. I’ll make you all banjie, fit my aesthetic.” She’s excited just thinking about it. Brooke’s high cheekbones, her eyes, her bone structure-

Vanessa’s only ruminating on all of it because of the possibilities for makeup, that’s all. No other reason.

Nope.

Brooke wrinkles her nose. “What’s banjie?’

Vanessa can’t help but grin. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Vanessa makes a mental note to her own body to get its shit together. To allow her to fucking sit up again without running out of breath, becoming light headed, feeling weak. She has a new client, after all.

The attending doctor and resident and nurses pass by for their evening rounds as Vanessa’s describing the kind of makeup look she wants to try out on Brooke. The attending frowns when he looks up at the monitors above Vanessa’s bed, a sight that makes Vanessa’s stomach churn in unease. She hates that look.

“Miss Mateo’s sats are getting pretty low, aren’t they?”

“Hello? I’m right here.” Vanessa stops just short of lifting up a hand, snapping it in the healthcare team’s faces. She hates the way they pretend to talk above her sometimes, as if she’s not privy to conversation about her own body.

The attending pays her no mind, turning towards her nurse instead. “I’d say lets try nasal prongs for the next couple hours, see if that increases her oxygen saturation.”

Vanessa tilts her head slightly, looking up at the monitor behind her. Eighty nine percent. She knows from years and years of being in the hospital that anything below ninety five percent is considered low, and that dropping saturation levels mean that she’s not getting the oxygen she needs, that her heart isn’t doing a good job of pumping the blood to where it’s supposed to go.

She doesn’t want a tube by her nose, though. It would make her look sicker than she already is.

“Don’t I get a choice?” She grumbles the words and only the resident hears her, sympathetically reaching out to pat her shoulder.

“It’s only to help you.” The attending doctor doesn’t even look up as he says it, and it makes Vanessa bristle.

The doctors to round on the next patient without much room for argument, and Vanessa’s nurse is apologetic as she brings over a set of nasal prongs.

“They’ll make you feel better, promise.” Scarlet hands over the tubing to Vanessa so that she can put it on herself, and part of Vanessa appreciates it, that someone at least is recognizing her competency.

“Don’t mean I gotta like it.”

Brooke turns to her as Scarlet leaves the room. “Gotta say, you pull them off well.”

“Don’t you even start with me.”

“Latest fall trend?”

Vanessa snorts in spite of herself. “I know what you’re tryna do.”

“What?” Brooke’s face is the picture of innocence, and it makes Vanessa feel a little bit lighter, with how she’s playing along.

“Tryna make me feel better.”

Brooke tuts. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. Just saying that you’ve started a new couture look. Might have to pick up a pair myself.”

Brooke winks at her, and Vanessa can’t help the small smile that’s growing on her face. “Still. Thanks.”

“I get how it feels, being stuck in here. It’s…not easy.” Brooke bites a lip. “I’m glad it’s you that I’m sharing a room with, and we have a blast, but I feel-”

“Powerless?”

“Yeah.” Brooke’s looking up at her, all traces of previous joking gone. “Like we’re disconnected from everything on the outside.”

“God, I get it.” Vanessa really does. Everyone’s moving on without them, getting farther and farther in life. Working, settling down, doing something with themselves. “Everyone’s doing things while we can’t.”

“At least this isn’t going to be forever. We’ll be back out there in no time.” Brooke’s smile is encouraging, and it makes Vanessa’s stomach turn a little, because Brooke will.

She won’t.

Though she doesn’t want Brooke to know. Doesn’t want her to worry.

“Yeah, we’ll get better before we know it.”

If only.

Their room feels just a little bit too empty to Vanessa when Brooke is whisked away for her surgery. It’s strange - back on the cardiology unit, she had relished the chance to have some peace and quiet. Now, though? She can’t stand the silence.

Their little micro-universe feels like it’s slipping away as Brooke begins to heal. She needs to stay in bed less, being less tired as the days go on, walking more and more with physio.

Vanessa’s happy for her, she is, because being stuck in a hospital bed is not something she would wish on anyone. The mundaneness. The feeling of helplessness. Watching everyone come and go, walking past their room without any inkling of how lucky they are just to be up and moving.

But at the same time, she wishes she was improving at the same rate. It doesn’t feel like it’s going to happen any time soon. Vanessa’s been needing the nasal prongs more often than not, no matter how much she grumbles as she wears them. She gets lightheaded, weaker, without them, closer to passing out the longer she tries to keep them off to prove that they’re not necessary.

Her stupid excuse of a heart is truly testing her patience.

Kameron doesn’t push her to walk anymore, something that makes Vanessa pissed, because she’s still gotta try, damn it. But at the same time, she’s grateful. She doesn’t want Brooke to see how weak she’s gotten. Hell, she doesn’t even want to know the whole scope of it herself. She doesn’t want to deal with it anymore.

She wants things to go back to normal. Well, as normal as they’ve ever been. For Vanessa, normal is being able to walk and talk and work and not be in the hospital. That’s all that she wants.

Brooke is dangling her feet from the edge of her bed one afternoon when they’ve finished a Jeopardy episode. “I’m still hungry.”

“We just had lunch.” Vanessa’s half right, because Brooke had her lunch. Vanessa’s not that hungry.

“You haven’t been out of bed in days. Let’s go somewhere. Let’s grab coffee from the cafeteria.” Brooke’s looking excited by the idea, standing up and slipping on her shoes. Without her walker, since she doesn’t need it anymore.

Vanessa’s only a little bit jealous.

“I’m tired as hell.” It’s not a lie, because Vanessa really is. Except that there’s not a time these days that she isn’t.

“Are you sure? Want me to bring you something back?” Brooke’s question makes Vanessa smile, just a little.

“I’m fine.”

Vanessa doesn’t want Brooke to know that Kameron downgraded her to using only a wheelchair, rather than the walker. It’s embarrassing. She doesn’t want to use it. So, she’s not going to. So what if she’s going to be in bed forever now?

Brooke is unfazed. “‘Kay. I’ll be back.”

She’s waltzing out of the room before Vanessa can even say goodbye, past the four walls that are slowly becoming the only part of the world that Vanessa is exposed to these days.

Vanessa tugs off the nasal prongs when Brooke gets back. Brooke raises an eyebrow as she does, but doesn’t comment. Hands her a muffin instead.

“I wanna get out of here.” Vanessa’s made up her mind.

Brooke takes a sip of her soft drink. “Thought you were tired.”

“I’m always tired. I don’t wanna be tired here.”

Vanessa doesn’t want to have to die while staring at the same four walls day in and day out. A prison of her body’s making, her heart the instigator that’s dooming her to a half, trapped life that may not even last that long.

If this is all she’s going to get, if this is the extent of her future? She doesn’t care anymore.

“Are you even allowed to leave the unit?”

Brooke’s question is valid, but it makes Vanessa scowl, tuck the red bracelet that denotes she can’t under her sleeve. “Doesn’t matter.”

Why should it even be an issue? Why does Vanessa have to spend her already shitty existence trapped where she doesn’t even want to be?

“Pretty sure nursing will ream you out if you try and go.” Brooke’s biting her lip now, and Vanessa’s starting to regret ever roping her into it. Someone who still has an inkling of self preservation left, someone who’s still trying to play within the rules.

Brooke deserves better than her.

“They’ll get over it. Come on, it’ll be fun.” She wiggles her brows, and she can see Brooke’s resolve beginning to break. “We can be like Bonnie and Clyde or some shit.”

“Okay, but didn’t Bonnie and Clyde rob people-”

“Irrelevant.” Vanessa waves her hand before pointing at the wheelchair in the corner of the room, still folded up and unused. Brooke gives in, walking over to grab it and bring it towards the side of her bed. Success.

Vanessa takes a deep breath before attempting to get up. Sure, physio and nursing had drilled the importance of having two people helping her transfer to and from the bed. Saying that she’s a falls risk, that she can hurt herself with the slightest of missteps.

But when Vanessa’s able to get her butt into the wheelchair with just a smidge of exertion, she smiles for the first time in days. Nursing and physio can suck it.

Brooke giggles as she pushes Vanessa’s wheelchair into the hospital’s atrium, past the piano and the front desk and the small garden. “I feel like we’re fugitives.”

Vanessa cranes her neck to look up at her. “Does that make me precious cargo?”

Brooke snorts. “You’re priceless.”

Vanessa can’t help the way that she peeks around the hallways as the walk, eyes out for any nursing from their unit, any therapists or physicians that could spot them and wonder why she’s not on the unit.

It’s fine. She’ll be fine. She can go without her nasal prongs for twenty minutes. She can handle being up in the chair for the length of time it takes to get a fucking coffee.

At least, that’s what she’s trying to tell herself as Brooke pushes her up to the Starbucks.

Brooke’s debating between a London Fog or a latte, and Vanessa’s never noticed, really, how pretty Brooke’s eyes are. How her face lights up while she’s scanning the menu, how delicate her movements are as she goes to pay. Even as a patient in a hospital, Brooke manages to glow. Vanessa’s not sure whether to be jealous or infatuated.

But by the way she can feel her own cheeks heat up as Brooke passes her drink to her, she has an inkling of which one it could be.

Vanessa’s breathless as they head back, dropping her head to rest on her hand. She’s still giggling over the pianist’s song choices in the lobby, and can hear Brooke doing the same as she pushes her chair.

The elevator ride back up to the unit feels final, as if they’re reaching the end of something. Vanessa tries to ignore the feeling and push it away, to focus instead on how she and Brooke had people watched in the lobby, giving every passing by patient or doctor or nurse an outlandish backstory. How Brooke had given her a sip of her drink, taken a sip of hers in return. How Vanessa hadn’t felt like a patient for once, ignoring the aches and pains in her body and the straining in her chest so that she could focus on the way Brooke beamed at her, eyes alight and full of so many possibilities.

Except the lightness in her chest drops, pulling her back down deep into the earth like an anchor as soon as the doors of the elevator open back up.

Because there’s a gaggle of nurses. Doctors. Her cardiologist. Her… mom?

A group of people looking very, very, mad.

Vanessa shrinks in the wheelchair as she hears Brooke gulp above her.

Whoops.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #hurt/comfort #hospital au #sick fic #holtzmanns #colour me blue

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