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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

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"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 14*

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

This chapter literally took me all day, and it's kinda super long, but since I'm only going to 15 it had to be done. Also, I wanted to get a certain part and all the bullshit detail action needs to be written before we get there so I just kept writing to get there. Lulz.

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Okay and can I just say about the Goodbye Love thing it was in my head since I had her say "I need to go away".

This was supposed to be the preview:

Mimi Please don't touch me Understand I'm scared I need to go away

Mark I know a place - a clinic

Benny A rehab?

Mimi Maybe - could you?

Benny I'll pay

And this is for chapter 15: Mimi Goodbye love Goodbye love Came to say goodbye, love, goodbye Just came to say Goodbye love Goodbye love Goodbye love Hello disease....

*DUN DUN DUNNNN*

---------------------

The next thing you knew you were waking up in another room. This one was more lavish and beautiful; the sunset was peeking through green silk curtains with a matching chaise lounge. You were now in pink silk pajamas as opposed to a hospital gown, and you weren’t hooked up to near as many wires. Just a pack attached to your arm linked to your sides.

“What the…?” You cautiously crept out of bed, examining the room.

So many questions flew through your mind at that moment. How did you get here? Where exactly were you? Who the hell changed you while you were passed out? It was too much to imagine. You walked over to the full length mirror and examined yourself. You were still semi pale, but you looked pretty damn good for just having surgery this morning.

You walked back towards your bed where your phone was laying on the nightstand. You went to check your messages when you saw the date-- it had been three days. THREE DAYS?

“What the actual fuck--?” You muttered.

Were you in a Black Mirror episode? How did you lose three whole days of your life?! You began to panic, making you pace the room. Wasn’t there a button you could do? You quickly looked around the room for anything, but all you found was a TV remote.

“Oh are you fucking--” You started to curse the world when you saw a little drawing of a nurse on one of the buttons. You frantically pushed it until a girl who looked like she was a nurse out of a porno as opposed to a hospital came running in.

“Oh my god, I thought you were like, dying or something,” She rolled her eyes and twirled her hair like she was a teenage stereotype.

“Where the hell am I? Why am I---”

“Okay you need to like, chill babe,” Nurse Betty put her hands up. “

“I’m not your babe, mmkay pumpkin? We are not friends,” You pushed her hands down. “Now why don’t you get your little chart and explain to me what’s going on in the Twilight Zone?”

“Alright, well--” She whipped out a mini tablet from her scrubs and flipped through it. “You got here three days ago with an order to keep you in a medically induced coma-- Ooooh, wow that sounds like some soap opera shit. Where your organs harvested on the black market?”

“WHAT?” You grabbed the tablet. That DID sound like some soap opera shit. “You read the tablet, all it said was the details about the coma and then FILES SEALED.

“Can you-- unlock this, please?” You shoved the tablet back in her hands.

“Um no, you need a supervisor for that babe,”

“Can you please get someone to unlock this then, BABE?” Your eye began to twitch from stress.

“Yeah, sure I’ll try,” She shrugged and walked back out of the room. You continued to pace faster now, googling “HARVESTED ORGANS ON THE BLACK MARKET”, when a doctor came in wearing navy blue scrubs, looking like Derek Shepherd.

“Well hey there, beautiful,” He grinned at you.

“...What is happening?” You muttered, staring at him. He was gorgeous, you’d probably be more flustered if you weren’t so freaked out and pissed off.

“What kind of soap opera hospital is this?!” You scowled.

“Hey, just because we take care of ourselves around here doesn’t mean it’s Grey’s Anatomy up here,” He made a face.

“...Could’ve fooled me, McDreamy,”

“....Just because my name is Derek doesn’t mean I’m that tool,” He frowned.

“Oh my god you’re kidding me right?” You had to laugh at the irony.

“You’re probably just grumpy because you haven’t eaten for three days,” He patted your head. “How about a nice filet mignon?”

“Wha…?” You looked around the room in disbelief. “How about you tell me where I am and how I got here?”

“You’re at Whistling Pines Hospital and Rehabilitation Center in Hartford Connecticut, Miss Y/N,”

“Connecticut?!” You gasped. “Sonny said it was just upstate New York. Jesus Christ he sent me out of state?!”

“Calm yourself,” Derek put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re basically on the state line, Mr. Carisi didn’t send you to Siberia,”

“...And why exactly was I brought here against my will?” You crossed your arms.

“Against your will?” He snorted. “Your paperwork says you requested to be out while you recovered so you wouldn’t be tempted to ask for pain meds or anything. Part of the detox, you understand,”

“Detox?” Your face scrunched. “Seriously? So...so now what, you escort me down to the padded room now that I’m healed?”

“No, no of course not,” He shook his head. “Our rehab rooms are much nicer than this. And yours is all ready for you,”

“....Yeah, alright,” You shrugged, looking around the room.

“Wonderful,” He gave you another 100 watt smile before opening the door and motioning you to follow him. You walked for a while through what seemed like a normal hospital wing, then you came to two large doors that said “REHABILITATION WING”.

Derek opened it and let you go through first, into a beautiful lobby. The walls were made of marble, there was a koi pond with a waterfall in the middle of it, sparkling water stations next to big leather chairs. It was like a spa.

“Wow...” You whispered as you admired it while you walked.

“Yes, I know,” He chuckled. “It’s quite impressive, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” You began to feel guilty; how much was this costing Sonny? This place looked like it cost the down payment on a house to stay in. You followed Derek down a hallway that looked like a hotel room hallway more than a rehab center, until he stopped at a door labelled 312.

“Ah here we are,” He opened the door and let you go inside first once again. It was an even more lavish room than you woke up in. A nice king bed with fluffy pillows and silk comforters were covered with extra blankets if you needed them. There was a huge sofa in front of a large screen TV, and a little kitchenette with a small fridge, cabinets, a dishwasher, and a microwave.

“....Wow,” You continued to stare in awe at the luxurious amenities this place had.

“Indeed,” Derek smiled. “Now, the TV comes loaded with digital cable and all the streaming services. Our WIFI password is LIVELAUGHLOVE, the fridge is stocked with organic, healthy foods only, but if you’d like to request something you can give our front desk a ring,”

You just nodded as you checked out the room.

“Now,” He cleared his throat. “For the icky part,”

“...The icky part?” You sputtered with a sarcastic smile. “Where did you go to medical school, Sesame Street?”

“Ha ha,” He rolled his eyes. “You will need to stay in your room at all times unless it’s social time, or group time. We do have several common areas such as a pool and a gym, but you’ll need to schedule times to use them, you can’t just walk around on your own,”

“Ah,” You nodded. “So it is a prison, just a very nice prison,”

“It’s not a prison, Miss Y/N,” He shook his head. “Not for you, anyway,”

“Really? Because it sounds like--”

“Your cousin did pay for your residency here, but you’re not under a court order or anything so you’re not confined here. Most of our residents have to be here several months before they’re even allowed out of their rooms at all, you should consider yourself lucky,”

“...Right,” You rolled your eyes. “Where is my cousin, anyway?” You asked. “Is he back at the hospital in New York?”

“Excuse me?” He looked at you in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand,”

“Oh I guess it’s been a few days,” You thought out loud. “He must have gone home by now,”

“...Well I’d sure hope so,” He chuckled.

“So..” You took a seat on the couch. “What am I doing now, warden?”

“Well like I said, I can have food sent up to you if you’re hungry,” He explained as he handed you your own tablet. “We have these for you so you can browse our menu for food and amenities,”

“Mmmkay…”

“Tomorrow’s social time is at 10 am, and your group therapy is at noon,”

“..Uh huh,” You nodded as you absent mindedly flipped through the menu.

“It’s mandatory,” He added.

“...Right,”

“Wonderful,” He beamed. “Now your bathroom is there, obviously,” He nodded to a door on the other side of the room. “It has a shower with three different pressures, and a spa bathtub. I recommend you take a long hot bath and relax, the first night is usually the hardest to get used to.

“Right…”

“Alright well I’ll leave you to it,” He nodded at you with another dreamy smile.

He walked out and left you to your own devices. You walked over to the drawers and pulled them out. They were full of your clothes, how did they get these so fast? It was so bizarre all of this happened while you were out, it really did seem like some kind of episode out of Dynasty or something.

You decided to call Sonny and get some things sorted out. You picked up your phone and dialed his number and let it ring.

“Oh hey...you, how you feelin’?”

“I’m good,” You went and sat on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Me? I’m good,”

“Really? Not sore or anything?”

“What? OH-- Yeah, y’know, of course, obviously,”

“...Thanks so much for this, Sonny. It’s gorgeous here,”

“Anytime….sweetie,”

“Is um, is Rafael doing better? Do you know?”

“Uh he’s...he’s fine, I’m sure,”

“...Well that’s good,”

“I’ll be up there next week to see you, you hang in there okay?”

“...Yeah, alright,”

“Night darlin’, you sleep well. I love you,”

“Love you too,”

Sonny hung up the phone and glanced over at Rafael who was busy writing his closing arguments for their case tomorrow.

“....Who was that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Niece,” He lied.

“Mmm,”

“...How are you feelin’, by the way Barba?”

“Carisi, we’re not discussing anything personal, ever again. I told you that,” He grumbled, not looking up from his desk. He winced in pain every so often when he pulled on his stitches while writing.

“...Right,” He nodded sadly. He did feel guilty about all of this, but he knew in a few weeks it wouldn’t matter. You’d both forget about each other and move on, it was for the best.

--------

The next day you woke up and felt this overwhelming sense of dread. It was like everything had finally caught up to you, all the memory of how you got here came back to you. You missed Rafael almost immediately, Sonny’s words about how you had traumatized him rang in your head.

You wanted so desperately to call him and apologize, tell him how you would have never hurt him on purpose, and that all you wanted to do was make it up to him-- but you knew you had no way of doing that, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Your tablet began to go off, alarms for SOCIAL TIME were set on it. You tried to turn it off, but apparently a counselor had to do it when you arrived. Sneaky bastards. You sighed and pulled on some PJ pants, trying to ignore the blaring sound. You stomped out of your room and down the hall, down some stairs to a huge room labelled “REC ROOM.”

“Welcome Y/N!” A bright and cheery nurse came over and greeted you. “We have lots of activities for you here,” She began to show you around. “We have arts and crafts, several board games, and the Cards Against Humanity rounds get quite rowdy!”

“...Right,” You nodded softly, feeling more and more hopeless as you saw all the other “residents” mingling-- and by mingling, meaning most of them were walking around like soulless zombies. Was this your life now?

----

One Week Later

“Hey…” You saw Rafael laying down in front of you, reaching out for your hand. You took it, not believing this was real.

“I love you, Y/N…” He smiled at you, his green eyes sparkling.

“I love you too Rafael..”

You shot up in bed, it happened again. You had been having the same dream ever since you had gotten to Whistling Pines. It felt so real, especially when you touched his hand. And you always woke up alone, stuck in your prison. Never to see Rafael ever again; It was torture. No matter how fancy the prison was, it was still a prison. You looked at the clock on your bedside table- 3:30 am. You wondered what Rafael was doing at that moment-- well, probably sleeping, duh. Or maybe he was up late, working on law stuff.

You wondered if he was thinking about you, if he ever thought about you. He didn’t seem angry the last time you saw him, in fact you were pretty sure you remembered him holding you and crying. Well, like Sonny said he was probably just upset having to see someone like that again. But-- something inside told you that you didn’t leave on bad terms. Maybe you had been too quick to just delete and block his number. But it was too late to do anything about that now. You laid back down and cried yourself back to sleep for the fifth time that night.

=============

Two weeks later

Sonny drove up to Hartford early Friday morning, hoping to get back to the city that night. He signed in at the front desk, muttering obscenities under his breath. He paced the lobby waiting for you, trying to keep his calm. Finally you emerged from the big double doors: You were dressed in a t-shirt that used to be tight, but now it draped on your shoulders. Your hip hugger jeans were more like men’s jeans, hanging off your pelvis. Your hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and you had no makeup on. You walked over to Sonny who crossed his arms at the sight of you.

“Hey, Sunshine…” He pulled you into a tight hug, your face barely moved into a small smile.

“Can we talk?” He asked as he led you to one of the leather couches.

“Sure,” You nodded like a robot as you sat next to him.

“So Sunshine,” He sighed. “They tell me you haven’t uh, been doin’ so hot,”

“Oh, have they?” You mumbled, playing with a hole in your jeans.

“Yeah they said you’re not eating, you skip the group, you won’t talk to anybody,” He put a hand on your knee. “Is everything okay? Is it your new liver? The diabetes kicking yer ass?”

“...No, I’m fine,” You shrugged feebly.

“....Seriously?” He removed his hand, his soft tone gone. “So, nothing’s wrong with you physically? You’re just being a brat?”

“Excuse me?” You suddenly blinked in surprise.

“Here I came up here because I was worried somethin’ was really wrong with you, like you were rejecting the donation or-- or the trauma was too much, but you’re tellin’ me you just won’t cooperate?” He snapped at you.

“...What do you want me to say, Sonny? Sorry?” You snarked back.

“I want you to tell me why!” He tried not to yell but this was ridiculous. “Do you know how expensive this place is?!”

“Oh wow,” You scoffed. “Well I’m sorry my recovery is so expensive for you, Son,”

“It’s not even recovery, Y/N! You’re-- You’re just laying around here like a fuckin’ angsty teen!” He barked. “Why aren’t you trying? Don’t you wanna get outta here and get back to your life?”

“Maybe I don’t!” You yelled and stood up. “Maybe I don’t care about getting out of here, or not. There’s no point anymore,”

“What?” Sonny furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

“...Because,” You looked down at the floor.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Sonny threw up his hands, finally standing up himself. “Is this about Barba, really Y/N? You knew him for a few fuckin’ days, gimme a fuckin BREAK,”

“He was wonderful to me, Sonny! He was wonderful and loving and caring and YOU made me go off on him, and then I--” You paused, tears caught in your throat. “I fucking traumatized him. I hurt him so badly he didn’t even want to see me when i was dying,”

“I mean-- how bad of a person am I?!” You tried not to break down in the lobby. “I shouldn’t be allowed to be around anyone anymore, I just destroy things. Hurt people. I shouldn’t be around anyone,”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Sonny sighed. “You need to stop, alright? If you actually tried to get better, you wouldn’t--”

“I don’t want to get better!!!!” You flat out stomped your foot, not caring about making a scene now.

“Y/N, tough love time. You need to get your shit together and forget about Barba, alright? I can’t keep paying for you to stay here--” He put both hands on your shoulders.

“So let me out,” You glared at him.

“....And if I let you out, are you going to stay sober?” He gave you a suspicious look.

“Nope,” You said with a smirk.

“Y/N come the fuck on,” He threw up his hands.

“What?” You crossed your arms. “I’m being honest. So either you keep wasting your money here, or let me go,”

“And what, let you kill yourself?” He asked angrily.

“...Maybe,” You muttered.

“Sunshine, come here--” Sonny went to wrap you in a hug, his t-shirt caught up on yours causing it to pull up on his torso. Your eyes went wide when you caught sight of it, letting go of him.

“....Where’s your scar?” You blinked in disbelief, trying to wrap your head around what you were seeing.

“What?” He began to panic.

“Your scar,” You pulled your t-shirt to reveal your own scar from the transplant. “You should have one,”

“Oh, Um--” Sonny began to rack his brain for an explanation, but your brain was moving faster.

“.....You didn’t give me part of your liver, did you?” You pulled away from him.

“Uh well--” He sighed “Not exactly, no,”

“Then who did?” You eyed him accusingly.

“They got you an anonymous--”

“Oh don’t even give me that shit, Sonny,” You stopped him. “This-- this whole thing, when I got here. It felt so much like, like a set up. A soap opera plot,”

“A soap opera?” Sonny laughed. “Come on Sunshine, don’t--”

“Why did you ship me here so fast, Sonny?” You asked, your brain now on a roll.

“What?” He half laughed. “So that you could get started early--”

“No,” You stopped him. “You could have just let me come here on my own, CONSCIOUS,”

“Well I just wanted you to skip the DT’s--” He tried to think of a defense.

“DT’s don’t happen to you if you get drunk ONCE, Sonny!” You raised your voice.

“Well how was I supposed to--” He looked around nervously.

“Who really gave me their liver, Sonny?” You narrowed your eyes.

“I told you, I don’t--” He began to lie again.

“I’ll look it up,” You threatened, making his eyes go wide.

“Y-You can’t do that,” He protested.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to?” You challenged him.

“...Because--”

“Rafael did, didn’t he?” You weren’t letting him think of any more lies.

“Look Y/N, he just wanted to help you out so that you wouldn’t die, like his dad. He couldn’t save him so he saved you. Doesn’t that sound like him?”

You had to admit, it really did. But why lie about it?

“So why didn’t you tell me that, Sonny? Why tell me you did it? Why didn’t you just tell me he did it to be nice, and not that he hated me?”

“I never said he hated you--”

“If you lied to me about that, what else have you been lying to me about?” You put your hands on your hips.

“What?”

“Oh my god…” You started to remember your recurring dream. “It was real, it was real. I know it was real!”

“...What was real?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“I keep having this dream where Rafael is across from me lying on a table, and he tells me that he loves me. And I know that happened I know it did,” You explained.

You were absolutely sure of it now. So many thoughts were running through your mind, you hated that you didn’t remember any of this before.

“What?” Sonny laughed again. “Sunshine it’s just a dream, don’t you think you would remember something like that?”

“They...they gave me something before I went into the OR,” You looked off into nowhere as you tried desperately to recall that morning. “The nurse called it…’giggle juice’,”

“Giggle juice?” Sonny rolled his eyes.

“Did you make them give me that too?!” You went for his collar, but a nurse came out of nowhere to hold you back.

“Wha who whoa, Sunshine calm down,” Sonny waved the nurse off of you. “I got her, thanks ma’am,”

“I didn’t tell them to give you anything,” He said softly.

“Yeah, just to keep me out for three days so I wouldn’t ever see Rafael before you sent me here,” You accused him.

“...Not true…” He shook his head.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to talk to him, Sonny?” Tears choked your throat.

“He didn’t want to talk to you--”

“Bullshit!” You stomped your foot, eyeing the nurse who had her eye on you in case you lost it on Sonny again.

“Bullshit, were you scared he was going to tell me what you were really doing? That you were trying to keep us apart?” Tears began dripping from your cheeks. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe you could have been with Rafael this entire time.

“No!” He protested, his eyes darting back and forth. “No, I--”

“I don’t believe you!” You pushed him, the nurse stepped forward but you put your hands up in defeat. “You’re keeping him from me right now, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“That’s why you sent me so far, he has no idea where I am, and he wants to know doesn’t he? He wasn’t traumatized by my ‘incident’, he’s traumatized he lost me!” You hated that you cried when you got angry, it made you so much less intimidating.

“Traumatized is a strong word, Y/N…” Sonny rolled his eyes.

“Y’know what Sonny,” You shook your head while you wiped your eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. You bring Rafael here, and I’ll try to get better,”

“...I can’t,” He looked at the floor.

“Wha--Are you serious?” You half laughed sarcastically. “You’d rather me rot in here than--”

“I don’t know where he is, Y/N,” He looked up at you seriously.

“...What?” You asked, not wanting to know the answer.

“He…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He left,”

“What do you mean ‘he left’?” You air quoted left.

“He went on some campaign trail, Hilary I think. He took off across the country, I literally have no idea where he is right now,” He explained.

“Why would he do that?” You asked.

“I don’t know, he said he had to get out of the city--” He shrugged.

“And you couldn’t imagine why?” You gave him a knowing look.

“Oh puh-lease Y/N, he’s not a drama queen like you--” He stopped, thinking about it. “Okay well he might be a drama queen but--”

“You can call him,” You pointed to his pocket.

“I can’t,” He looked down at the ground once again.

“WHY NOT?!” You were getting fed up with him.

“He was….he was super pissed at me for keeping you apart, alright? You’re right. He...he changed his number when he took off, he wants nothing to do with me,”

“So he’s just...gone?” Your voice cracked.

“Sunshine, I promise you. In a few weeks you won’t care about him, and you’re gonna wanna get out of here,”

“Why, you're gonna start adding memory pills to my regiment too?” You scoffed with angry tears in your voice.

“Jesus,” He rolled his eyes. “No, because you’re 22 and you can fall in and out of love like that,” He snapped his fingers.

“No I won’t,” You shook your head. “You’re gonna have to let me out of here or I’ll die in here,”

“God you’re such a--” Sonny sighed in frustration. “I can get them to get you to eat, y’know that right?”

“Do it!” You dared him. “Start treating me like some kind of mental patient, control my life like you think you need to,”

“...I can’t deal with this,” He waved his hands and started to walk away. “I’ll be back in a few weeks, I’m sure you’ll be over this by then,”

“Don’t count on it,” You stomped back into the ward.

-----------------

A week later

You let the night nurse into your room, she brought your meds and a nightly snack.

“Well, are you excited for tomorrow?” She asked, making conversation.

“...What’s tomorrow?” You asked as your downed your pills.

“Your last day!” She smiled.

“...What?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, honey you’re not here on a court order or probation, and your cousin only paid for 30 days. So, you’re leaving tomorrow!”

“You’re just...you’re just letting me go??” You asked in disbelief.

“You’re not happy about that? I’m sure we could talk to your--” She started.

“No!” You stopped her. “No, No I’m totally excited, ready to get back to real life,”

“Good!” She smiled and patted your head. “Make sure you’re all packed, we’ve already filled this room once you leave,”

“...Of course you have,” You rolled your eyes.

She left and you began to frantically pack, ready to get out of here as fast as possible. You would find Rafael on your own, you knew you could.

----------

Sonny’s phone went off while he was out on a call, he saw it was Whistling Pines so he excused himself from the scene and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Yes, Mir. Carisi? This is Sylvia at Whistling Pines, we were just checking on Miss Y/N,”

“....Why would you be checking on her? Don’t you have her?”

“...No sir, she checked out a few days ago,”

“WHAT?!”

“Well it had been 30 days and you had only paid for a month--”

“So you just let her leave?! Why would you do that?!”

“Well sir, for one she’s a grown woman who’s a law abiding citizen, she wasn’t committed here by any kind of law enforcement. And like I said you only paid--”

“For a month,” He growled. “That’s all that matters to you people, isn’t it?”

“Well sir, this is a very expensive--”

“Where did she go?”

“What do you mean where did she go? She left with you,”

“Uh she sure as hell did NOT,”

“...Well she got in a car with a man…”

“Oh my god,” Sonny almost dropped the phone. “I swear to God if something happens to her because of you people I will sue you SO fast--”

“Okay no need to get hysterical,” She began to panic. “Why don’t you just come here and we’ll figure it out…”

“No I think you’ve done enough,” He growled before hanging up on her.

Where the hell had you gone? And with who?!

#rafael barba #rafael barba angst #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanficton #rafael barba imagine #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #sonny carisi #sonny carisi fanfiction

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jaxl-road · 5 years

Text

Hollow

“When I get stressed, I get violent and take it out on myself. I’ve pulled razor blades on myself but then realized that having a scar is more detrimental than not having a stereo. I’d rather kick in my stereo than cut my arm.” -Axl Rose

An AU where Axl changes his mind on that stance.

Pairings: none

***TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM (specifically cutting)***

~~~~~~~~~

There was a clawing in his chest. In his throat, in his stomach, behind his eyes and his teeth. Walking offstage, Axl felt like he couldn’t breathe, too busy focusing on containing the wild, storming beast that wanted to tear him apart.

He needed to get out of here.

The hallway backstage seemed to stretch on forever, staring at the backs of his bandmates as they headed towards their dressing rooms. As he walked, he found himself kicking an empty plastic chair viciously when he passed it.

Slash eyed him over his shoulder, "Jeez, what is your problem?"

Fuck. He wished the guitarist hadn’t asked. His fingers curl, nails biting into his palms as he grinds out, "Were you not listening out there? The audio was fucking shit, there was feedback every five fucking minutes!"

Rolling his eyes, Slash sighed, "Dude, it wasn't that bad-"

But before he could finish his attempt at de-escalation, Steven whipped around and interrupted, "Well maybe if you actually bothered to show up for soundcheck we wouldn't have this problem."

Axl ground to a halt in the middle of the hallway, snarling, “I shouldn’t need to be there for us to have halfway decent tech! All the fucking money we bring in and we can’t get a less mediocre PA system?”

“Guys, hey, let’s not-” Duff tried to intervene half-heartedly, Slash rubbing a hand over his face in the corner. Izzy sighed as he shared a look with the other two, because they all knew it was pointless. Axl was too volatile, Steven was too outspoken, and they were both too frustrated with each other. The match and the kerosene.

“We’d bring in more money if we weren’t constantly paying overtime fees because you can’t get your ass to your own gig on time!” Steven snapped, “I don’t get why you’re making more than me when you’re basically a part-time singer!”

That clawing beast inside Axl escaped. And it had a target.

His hand curled around the back of the plastic chair, blood roaring in his ears as he hurled it at the drummer. Everyone in the hallway ducked against the walls, Steven managing to step out of the way in time as the chair crashed to the ground harmlessly, sliding down the hallway as Axl started screaming.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! You don’t know a goddamn thing! You think you could do any of this without me?! Fat fucking chance!”

Axl could feel his mouth moving, could hear the words distantly, but there was a disconnect. It didn’t feel like him. He could see himself storming down the hallway like a glitching television screen, jumping and skipping, showing him shoving Steven aside and kicking the chair again even harder, everything fuzzy, static in his ears. A door slams furiously and he finds himself standing in his dressing room, and then there’s something in his hands, and then he’s surrounded by broken glass and overturned furniture. There are holes in the drywall and blood on his knuckles.

And he’s breathing. Gasping, actually, and he wonders if he had been holding his breath during the destruction; if the rage in his chest left no room for air.

But it was gone now. There was nothing left. Just a gaping cavern where the rage used to be. He staggered backwards and leaned against the wall, feeling lightheaded, his limbs weightless and shaky. Sliding to the floor, he put his head on his knees, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

Fuck.

The last half hour replays in his head.

Fuck.

What the fuck was wrong with him? This was hardly the first time he’d pulled this kind of bullshit, but each time felt worse. Steven didn't deserve that treatment. None of them did, and it was only a matter of time before he broke the camel's back with his fuck ups.

He wasn’t an idiot- he knew his bandmates wanted to fire him, and why wouldn’t they? Maybe Guns wouldn’t be the same without him, maybe they wouldn’t be as successful or popular, but with the amount of money they’d save from cutting out his property damage and late fees they’d probably still come out ahead, and that's not even considering how happy they'd be to be rid of him.

Axl was the one who’d suffer. He had a reputation now, and the bad was starting to outweigh the good. What would he even do, if he couldn’t sing? Couldn’t perform? Turning his head, he catches sight of his reflection in the shards of broken mirror surrounding him.

Reaching out, he picked up one of the larger shards without even thinking, turning it over in his hand. He ran a finger across the sharp edge in contemplation.

There had been a few times over the years where Axl found himself holding a blade to his skin. Everyone only saw rage, and that was part of it, sure, but it was more than that. There was a burning inside of him. Sometimes fire coursed through his veins that crackled and crawled and made Axl feel like tearing his skin off, like he was bursting at the seams, like even his own body didn't want him. Each time he'd reasoned with himself that it was better to scream and trash a room than scar himself. Things could be replaced, after all, so it was clearly the better solution.

Now he was rethinking that.

Something had to give, after all. He was halfway to ruining everything, steadily destroying this fragile life he'd built. If he didn't find a better way to purge this shit from inside him, it was going to crash down around him.

He thinks of bloodletting. He thinks of kneeling before some medieval priest to be drained of the devils and demons running through his veins. He wonders if that was why people were drawn to hurting him- his father, his stepfather, the bullies at school, the creeps who offered him a ride for a price- maybe his disease was so close to the surface that everyone could see it and knew that the only way to help him was to hurt him. Maybe this whole time he’d been flinching away from the cure. He thought of the empty feeling he got after each time he snapped and went on a rampage, and considered that maybe this way he could just bleed everything out- quietly, peacefully.

Sitting on the floor carefully, he slowly pushed his jeans down to his knees. Arms are a big no, he'd never be able to hide it, but legs would be easy to conceal. If he was careful, he could even make sure everything was hidden by shorts.

Looking down at the shard of reflection in his hand, he feels a sense of calm. It's not hopeless. There's still time. He has a plan now. He can fix this.

He pressed the glass against the top of his thigh.

He'll be better.

~~~~~~~~

It’s nearly morning when he makes it back to the hotel. Slipping into his room, he stays there until nightfall when they have to leave for the next city.

None of them talk about his outburst. They never do.

He sits alone.

~~~~~~~~

The night of their next performance, Axl doesn’t make it to soundcheck, but he does arrive before the openers go on.

“Wow, look who decided to show up,” Slash said mockingly, raising an eyebrow as he walked past.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Duff rolled his eyes in response.

Steven laughed, and oh, Axl wants to scream.

I’m doing what you want! I’m here! I’m trying! This is what you wanted, why aren’t you happy, why isn’t it enough?”

Instead, he presses the tips of his fingers into the side of his thigh and keeps walking.

~~~~~~

It infuriated him, seeing his bandmates strung out when they were supposed to be working.

“Clean up your fucking act before you OD on fucking stage!” he snapped, shoving at Slash’s chest before stomping away.

Back in his dressing room, he tugged his hair in frustration. Who was he to lecture his bandmates? He was trying not to cause trouble, not to get on anyone’s bad side, and yelling at his guitarist wasn’t exactly the way to do that.

God, he was the worst fuck up out of all of them. He shouldn’t have said anything. The anger hadn’t left, but now he felt guilty on top of it. He hated feeling this much. He hated not being able to do anything right. Opening one of the drawers beneath the vanity, he opened a small pack of spare razors.

~~~~~~

Get up.

The room is dark, the curtains drawn tight, only a sliver of light shining through the bottom of the hotel door.

Get up.

Another performance over, another city crossed off the list, and now it was time to gather his things because they had to be on the bus in an hour. But instead he was laying on his side on the bed, staring blankly at the wall.

Get up, get up, get up!

It’s almost funny to him- if someone walked in right now they’d probably think he looked dead, unable to hear the screaming inside his head.

Mustering up as much energy as he can, he reaches over to the top drawer of the side table. Fumbling around for a moment, his fingers finally find the pocketknife he had started keeping there. He flips it open lazily.

An hour later, he is running up to the bus, out of breath, but right on time.

~~~~~~

When he sits on the floor of the generic hotel bathroom, holding a towel to his leg, he wonders if this is a punishment or a reward.

Maybe it’s both.

~~~~~~

“Hey Axl, you coming?”

The singer blinked in surprise at Slash’s question. There was nothing on the band’s schedule for the day, leaving them free to do what they pleased. Duff, Slash, and Steven had been talking about heading to some VIP bar a friend had recommended, Izzy shrugging and agreeing to tag along while Axl sat to the side and stared out the window mindlessly.

It had been a long time since the band had all gone out together just for fun. Lately their outings were specifically a chance to get away from Axl, after all.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” the redhead smiled, standing and following the group out, chatting amicably. He tapped his fingers against his leg.

He must be doing something right.

~~~~~~

Shorts still cover everything, but he’s had to move from the tops of his thighs to the insides.

Then the outsides.

He starts wearing longer shorts.

~~~~~~

When the show ends, Axl throws his arms around his bandmates, pulling them close, waving and bowing for the crows. They seperate, but Steven keeps his arm around him, even when they’re out of sight of the audience, and Axl knows that it’s all worth it just for this moment of not being alone.

~~~~~~

On this night, he wears his rose leggings, as well as black basketball shorts over them. When he woke up that afternoon, Axl had felt a churning in his stomach, felt on edge and jittery and angry, and he refused to fuck up, not again, not anymore. Things were good, the past few months had gone relatively smoothly, he was on good terms with the rest of the band, and he couldn’t afford to mess that all up just because he had a broken, defective brain.

That’s what he told himself, when he pressed the blade a little harder than usual.

So he wore the leggings, and an extra layer, and that was fine. He was on time, and the energy of the show was amazing, and if he didn’t hit a note good enough, or the sound system had a glitch, he could just kick his legs out, leap from an amp, feel the stretch and burn and growing dampness around his hips and legs and everything felt okay again.

By the time the show ended and they made it back to the hotel, his legs stung with every step. But he was so exhausted, he couldn’t bring himself to deal with it. So he simply pulled his shirt and shoes off before collapsing into bed, falling asleep with the familiar feeling of pain comforting him.

~~~~~~

When he woke up, he knew immediately that something was very, very wrong.

The room was dark, so he assumed it was still the middle of the night, but when he turned his head to look at the clock beside his bed the numbers were blurry. He was hot, he could feel sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, making the thin bed sheet cling to his chest, and it felt like his eyes were burning in his skull. The heat was so distracting, making his thoughts fuzzy and muddled, it took him a moment to notice the pain. But once he did, he choked on a cry.

His legs hurt. The right one hurt, but oh, God, his left leg felt like an exposed nerve, every heartbeat sent a pulse of pain that seemed to echo from his thigh through the rest of his body. He felt like he was on fire, he felt like he was being flayed, he felt like he was suffocating.

Something was wrong.

Focusing everything he had, eyes clenched shut, Axl forced himself to sit up and swing his legs slowly over the side of the bed. His stomach lurched, and he took a few minutes to just breathe. When the nausea passed, he began to carefully slip his clothes off, sliding the shorts, leggings, and underwear away at the same time, biting his lip until he tasted blood as the fabric brushed past his thighs. As the garments fell to the floor, he finally opened his eyes.

Axl had to blink a few times, the room seeming to sway around him, and even as his vision cleared, it still took several minutes for his brain to focus, to process what exactly he was looking at. At first, all he sees is red. But slowly he is able to pick up more details- the angry pink that makes up the skin of his left thigh is broken up by lines of dark red, a few of them muted by a dull yellow color.

That’s bad. He knows that- that what he’s looking at is bad- but he couldn’t comprehend why. His thoughts are disorganized and inarticulate, understanding slipping through his fingers like water-

Water, he thinks suddenly, I need to clean this.

It’s the first truly coherent thought he’s had since he woke, and he clings to it desperately. Axl stands with a lurch, gritting his teeth through the pain, one hand held out against the wall to steady himself. Looking around, he feels confused, Where am I?, but he still manages to stagger towards the bathroom on instinct alone. He passes by a minifridge and without thinking shakily reaches in to snatch a small bottle of vodka.

He doesn’t remember the rest of the journey, but the next time he is fully aware of his surroundings he is standing in the shower, clumsily opening the vodka. Bracing himself against the tiled wall, he poured the alcohol over his thigh.

Axl has to bite down around a scream, and suddenly he feels like he’s snapped back into his body, the pain cutting through the fever haze and he gasps as he feels his jumbled thoughts finally click back together.

The cuts are infected, he realizes with dread, I cut too deep, I haven’t been cleaning them. It’s infected now. He looks down at the nearly empty bottle of vodka, his thigh still stinging, Alcohol isn’t gonna do shit now, it’s too late for that, I can’t fix this on my own, he feels his eyes burn with misery, I need help.

Swallowing thickly, the bottle slips from his fingers and clatters to the ground. His hand fumbles as he steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel and clumsily wrapping it around his naked waist. Every step hurts, and he feels the heat creeping back in, burning the thoughts from his head, and he leans heavily against the doorframe as he stares at the table beside his bed in anguish.

The phone feels so far away, and Axl just wants this to be over. He wishes he had never been born. He wishes his father had killed him instead of just ruining him. He wishes his stepfather had finished him off instead of always leaving him on the ground, broken and bloody and breathing. He wishes that stranger on the road had slit his throat instead of crawling on top of him. He wishes someone else would just take control and make it all stop.

Because out of all the things Axl hates about himself, the thing he hates most of all is that he does not want to die. He limps and stumbles towards the phone because he is a coward, and he's scared, and he doesn't want to die, he doesn’t want to go to Hell yet. Oh God, he doesn’t want to go to Hell.

By the time he reaches the other side of the room, he’s panting like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his face and chest, and all he can do is whimper in pain as he collapses onto his knees next to the bed, leaning his head against the side table. Curling up as much as he can in the corner between the bed and the table, he blindly reaches up, fumbling around until his hand finds the phone and pulls the receiver down.

Everything is swaying, like a boat on the ocean, and the nausea swelled, forcing him to wrap an arm around his stomach in a desperate attempt to swallow back bile. He's dizzy, and shivering, and he's staring at the phone in his hand when he realizes he doesn't know who to call. The front desk? 911? No, no, in either of those situations an ambulance would be involved which would increase the odds of paparazzi finding out. No, he just needs someone to drive him, that's all.

But of course, it's never that simple. Because he realizes he has no idea who is staying in what room- doesn’t think he could recall the information even if he had known it in the first place. They had booked most of the floor for the band and crew, but Axl couldn't remember specific room numbers. Clenching his eyes shut, he took a deep breath. There was no other option but to just guess and hope he got one of the crew members. He didn't want to see anyone- he didn't want anyone to see him- but he figured a tech could at least be paid to keep quiet.

So he punched in a number, any number for his floor, the buttons blurring as he looked at them, and shakily held the phone to his ear. The ringing feels far away, and he can’t decide if he feels cold or hot. He realizes suddenly that it’s the middle of the night, and he wonders what he will do if no one picks up.

But before he can think too long, he hears a click, and he holds his breath.

"Hmmmf, 'llo?" A tired voice filters through the line and Axl chokes out a sob.

Steven.

"Hello?"

Of course it's Steven. Axl hasn't fucked up the drummer's life enough apparently, now he has to wake him in the dead of night because he can't get his shit together. Another cry escapes him.

"...Axl? Is that you? Are you-"

The phone slips from his grasp, clattering to the ground as he leans heavily against the bed and sobs uncontrollably. A small voice chattered from the receiver, but Axl was too far gone to understand it.

He didn't want to hurt Steven anymore. He didn't want to hurt anyone, that was the whole reason he started all this. And why did he always hurt Steven, anyway? Was it because he was an easy target? Because he was so big hearted and forgiving he knew he could get away with it? This was why he was going to Hell. This was why he deserved this pain.

Gasping to catch his breath, his head aching and his whole body weak, he realized that the phone had gone silent. He feels almost afraid to pick it up again.

Maybe this is karma, he thinks. That would make sense. That would be fair. Maybe he can just lay down on the floor, and fall asleep, and not wake up. It’s not like he has the strength to do anything else at this point. Axl didn’t want to die, but he felt resigned. He was scared, but he just didn’t have the strength to fight it anymore.

There is a muffled thudding noise. He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but he listens, and it sounds far away, and he wonders if it’s his heartbeat. It gets faster, more frantic, and he thinks he hears a voice. Then he hears a crash.

Then he hears his name.

“Axl?”

Blinking sluggishly, he glances around the room in confusion, and then there is someone rushing towards him. He doesn’t recognize him until he is a foot away.

“Shit, Axl!” Steven's figure was blurry as he knelt in front of him, "Hey, hey, Axl, I'm here, you're okay," The drummer hissed when he pushed the sweaty red hair out of Axl's face, "Jesus Christ, you're burning up!"

“What’ryou…” Axl slurs, confused, Steven going in and out of focus.

Eyes widening in concern, the blonde put his hands on Axl’s shoulders to steady him, “You… you called me. Remember? You were-... you didn’t say anything but you didn’t sound okay. I was worried.”

Oh, Axl swallowed thickly, remembers now, dragging his thoughts back towards something resembling coherency.

Steven was here. Axl didn’t want him here, but he was here and there was no going back, and he still needed help, so even though he wanted nothing more than to keep crying, he had to press on. His thoughts felt shattered, all jagged edges scattering in every direction, so it took him what felt like ages to slur out, “Stevie…” his voice is raspy and raw, “Need you… t’drive me t’the hospital.”

The drummer frowned, “Hey, you’re okay, you’re sick, but we’ll get your fever down, okay? We’ll get you cooled down. If your fever doesn’t go away then we can-”

Axl shakes his head, slowly at first and then more frantic as Steven tries to reason with him, “No, it’s not… ‘m not…” he doesn’t know how to say it, he’s so dizzy, and weak, so he focuses his strength on clumsily pushing away the towel around his waist to just show him.

At some point his eyes slipped shut, trying to alleviate the nausea brought on by the spinning room, and he knows his sense of time cannot be trusted, but it feels like the silence stretches out for hours. The only sound is the rasping of his lungs, and if it weren’t for Steven’s hands still bracing his shoulders he’d assume the man had left. But maybe he was going to, just taking in the trainwreck for one more moment before walking out the door. Or maybe he already left and Axl was just hallucinating the idea of not being alone.

“Fuck, Axl…”

Steven’s voice sounds far away, but his hands are still present on his shoulders, his fingers tightening a bit and digging into his skin in a way that would probably be painful if it weren't for all the pain already drowning it out.

Axl is crying again, or maybe crying still, choking out through a sob, “‘m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay, everything is gonna be okay, man,” Steven rambles, hands releasing their grip and instead smoothing up and down Axl’s arms soothingly, “You’re gonna be fine. Let’s just… I’m just gonna call the guys, and we’ll take you to the hospital and get you all fixed up, yeah? You’re gonna be just fine.”

He reaches for the phone still laying on the ground, balancing it between his ear and shoulder as he snatches the receiver off the side table. Axl doesn’t notice his own hand moving, everything too syrupy and slow, but he feels his fingers curl into Steven’s shirt and hears a broken, wounded whine that he thinks might have come from his own mouth.

Pausing in his fumbling with the phone, Steven focuses on the singer in front of him. Axl is too tired, getting weaker every moment, has no more energy to sob but the tears are still streaming down his face and he wonders if he was nauseous because he was carrying an ocean in his stomach. He opens his mouth and he wants to say no, he wants to say please, he wants to say I’m sorry, I fucked up, please, don’t make me face them too, don’t let them see me, I don’t want to be hated anymore, it’s already too much, I can’t take anymore, please don’t punish me, even if I deserve it, please.

Maybe he did manage to say all that out loud and his own ears missed it, maybe he said some of it, maybe he stuttered and stumbled over fever thick words and somehow got the gist of it. Or maybe Steven just felt the way Axl’s hand shook with the effort of holding him, or saw the words reflected in his glassy eyes, or understood the shuddering of his breath. Either way, Steven set the phone on the ground and cupped the side of Axl’s face with a gentleness that makes it hard to breathe, tilting his head until the red-head is focusing fever-bright eyes on him.

“Hey,” Steven’s voice is soft, but strong, “it’s okay. I’m not trying to hurt you, okay? But if you don’t want an ambulance then I’m gonna need some fucking help. They’ll want to help,” he leaned in, eyes wide and emploring, “They’re on your side, okay? We’re on your side.”

Blinking slowly, it takes a minute for the words to cut through the haze, and then another for Axl to nod in defeat. Steven only has a second to sigh in relief before the singer is suddenly pitching forward, collapsing against his chest.

“Shit!” the drummer hissed, one arm coming around to hold him and wincing as his hand rested against bare skin and felt the heat radiating off his body.

Forehead resting against Steven’s chest, Axl let his eyes drift shut again. The hand on his back feels far away, he feels far away, feels like he’s underwater, everything floating and rippling. Every now and then he breaks through the surface for just a moment.

He hears Steven’s voice frantically saying Slash’s name, words sharp and panicked.

He sees shadows around him, tall and looming, fuzzy around the edges.

He feels hands on him, turning him, pushing his hair back, on his arms and his face and his neck, tugging at something around his hips.

He hears curses and arguing.

He feels fabric secured around his waist and draped over his shoulders. He feels arms around his back and under his knees. He feels a jolt as he’s lifted into the air. He feels a flare of pain in his legs from the movement. He feels himself open his mouth to scream but nothing comes out.

He feels himself sink beneath the surface, and this time he stays there.

~~~~~

Axl wakes up slowly.

Everything feels soft, muted, dulled. Like he’s resting just inches outside his body. There, but not quite. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s full of cotton, and yet his limbs feel heavy. He doesn’t feel tired exactly, but he feels so comfortable and peaceful he wants to go back to sleep, wants to wrap himself in this strange sensation and stay there. When he finally manages to open his eyes, everything is blurred and bright.

For a brief moment he wonders if he’s in Heaven. If maybe he’s been forgiven.

But his vision starts to clear, and he sees fluorescent lights, hears a steady beeping, and starts to feel aching and sore. It’s still confusing, there are bits and pieces of memory in his head but he can’t quite make sense of them, can’t see the image the puzzle is supposed to create. The answer is on the tip of his tongue, it feels like, but he can’t quite grasp it.

Then, as he slowly sinks back into his body, he becomes aware of someone holding his hand. He has to blink a few times before he can turn his head, and then a few more to find details in the dark silhouette sitting at his side.

“Hey,” Izzy’s voice cracks as he whispers, smiling shakily down at him, “welcome back.”

Axl doesn’t understand, just stares blankly up at the guitarist sitting on the edge of his bed. He opens his mouth because he feels like he should say something, anything, but all that comes out is a weak rasp, wincing at the sandpaper feel of his throat.

Izzy hushes him, reaching with his free hand and lifting a cup with a straw to his lips. Axl drinks greedily, the cool water hitting his stomach and making him feel more present. His throat feels better, but when Izzy pulls the cup away, he realizes that he has no idea what to say. So he doesn’t say anything. He simply blinks up at Izzy, and every time he closes his eyes he expects him to be gone when he opens them.

Swallowing thickly, Izzy rubs his thumb over the back of Axl’s hand, “We’ve been waiting for you all day.”

For the first time Axl becomes aware of the three other silhouettes in the corner of his vision. Turning his head, he sees Duff and Steven sitting on the floor, both asleep, the drummer curled up with his head on the bassist’s shoulder. Slash is sitting just to the side, sprawled out in an uncomfortable looking plastic chair, eyes hidden by his curls but the soft, steady breathing suggesting that he’s asleep too. As he looks at them his eyes also catch on machines, and wires, and the IV in his arm, and he finally sees the picture all the little pieces are making.

Hospital, he finds the word at last, I’m in the hospital.

He looks back up at Izzy. He finds the words. I fucked up.

Izzy’s hand grips his a little tighter, and his lips are trembling, and his eyes look watery and scared, and for the first time in years Axl thinks he looks like Jeff.

“You scared the shit out of us,” he whispers, “Fuck, Axl- Bill- Axl,” he takes a deep breath, grips his hand so tight it hurts, “You scared me so fucking bad.”

These words matter, Axl knows that, tucks them in his mind so he can give them their proper respect later, when he’s not dizzy on blood-loss and infection and painkillers and antibiotics. But right now, tears slip down the side of his face, soaking into stringy red locks, streaming silently for no other reason than because Izzy is here.

That’s all Axl can process right now, and even that is almost too much. Izzy is here. Steven, and Duff, and Slash, and Izzy, they’re here, they’re here, they’re here. After everything he’s done, they didn’t leave him on the floor of the hotel, didn’t drop him on the hospital doorsteps and move on, didn’t leave him here alone.

Izzy wipes at his tears, even though more replace them immediately. He stays. He holds Axl’s hand as he cries quietly and strokes his hair, and whispers softly. Axl is so tired, but he’s afraid to fall asleep in case this was all a dream, in case he wakes up alone.

“It’s okay,” Izzy leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Axl’s not sure he believes him, but his eyes are so heavy, and he feels himself sinking. He’s not sure he believes him. But as he slips back into unconsciousness, he allows himself to hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After sleeping through his first day in the hospital, Axl is released on the second.

Tapping his fingers anxiously, he sits on the edge of his bed, dressed in plain sweatpants and an old t-shirt Slash had brought for him. It’s just him and the doctor, who is monotone and indifferent as he gives the singer instructions. Three of the cuts had needed stitches, so he’d need to come back in two weeks to get them removed and have a check-up. Change the bandages two to three times a day. Take the prescribed antibiotics every twelve hours until the pills were gone, even if he felt better. He handed him a folder with the same instructions typed up, and the prescription, and a business card for a psychiatrist that Axl didn’t bother looking at.

Walking out of the room, he keeps his eyes on the ground. He’s walking stiffly, gauze and bandages thick around his thighs and hips making his steps stilted and awkward. The guys are waiting for him, all of them, still here he thinks, and his heart stutters. But he’s awake now, fever gone and head clear and he feels humiliated.

He doesn’t want them to leave, but he also wants them to have never been here at all.

“Good to go?” Duff asks. The four rockers stand and they look so out of place in the hospital waiting room. Not Axl though. Axl, with his pale skin, dark circles under his eyes, nondescript clothes hanging from his frame, hands shaky and weak. Axl looks like he belongs here. Axl looks like he shouldn’t be leaving.

But he nods, and they walk out the door together.

He doesn’t know whose car it is, but Izzy drives, Axl in the passenger seat while Slash, Duff, and Steven pile into the back.

They’re barely out of the parking lot when Steven leans forward, “How are you feeling?” He tries to keep his voice normal and conversational. He doesn't really succeed.

Axl rests his head against the window, “Tired.”

Steven nods awkwardly and the car falls into silence. Eventually Izzy stops the car by a pharmacy, quietly reaching over and slipping the folder out of Axl’s limp hands. He pulls out the prescription slip and hands it to Slash. There is no conversation while they wait for the guitarist to retrieve the medication, and Axl feels like he broke something. He wants to cry, but he feels hollow and dry and empty. He must have used up all the tears he had.

Slash comes back, grinning as he held up the paper bag, “I think this is the first time I’ve gotten drugs from somewhere other than a back alley,” he jokes. Axl lets out a huff through his nose, the closest to a laugh he can manage, and the others smile stiffly as the car starts again. Izzy turns on the radio to help fill the silence, but it only helps a little.

When they reach the hotel, Axl sits up and grimaces when he sees the grease mark left on the window. For the first time he looks at his reflection in the side mirror and is filled with shame and self-consciousness when he sees how stringy and dirty his hair looks, the dull matted locks only serving to make his pale face look even more sickly. A shiver runs through him at the sudden, overpowering dirtiness he feels, and he feels the urge to crouch under the dashboard, to curl up with his hands over his head so no one can see him. But before he has a chance his door opens, and he finds himself looking up at Slash.

The guitarist tilts his head and asks casually, “You alright, man?”

No, Axl thinks. He wants to scream. He wants to break something and throw a tantrum and snap and refuse to leave the car for anything. He wants to dig his fingers into his thigh.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’m fine.”

It’s not entirely surprising when they go into the hotel and lead Axl to a different room than the one he was staying in before- he has no idea what sort of state he left it in- and it’s not particularly surprising when the guys trail after him, either. Axl is still looking at the floor, disgusting strands of hair falling into his face and he feels sick for a whole list of reasons. He spots his suitcase in the corner and shuffles towards it.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he mumbled.

Izzy’s voice stops him in his tracks, “You can’t get your bandages wet.”

He says it matter-of-factly, just pointing out the obvious, but it feels so cruel to Axl that it cuts him to the quick. He snaps his head over, eyes wide with something like betrayal.

“But…” He feels like a child- fragile and hurting and at someone else’s mercy. His head drops back down. He feels so weak and he hates it, but he can’t find anything in him to fight back. There is no rage. Only a bone deep exhaustion.

“I just want to wash my hair,” he says it mostly to himself, voice cracking just slightly and so soft he doesn’t really expect any of them to hear it. One hand raises hesitantly to touch his fingers to the side of his hair, and he wonders if he can die from shame.

He’s about two seconds away from just curling up on the floor in defeat when Duff steps forward, “I’ll help you.”

Axl blinks up at him in surprise, partially from the offer, and partially because out of all of them Duff actually manages to sound normal- like this is any other day, and it’s completely routine for him to help his lead singer wash his hair. He’s even nonchalant in the way he pats Axl’s shoulder, nudging him towards the bathroom.

“Duff…” Izzy starts, a note of concern in his voice, but the bassist cuts him off.

“Izzy.” His voice is clipped, firm, final, and Izzy raises his hands in surrender.

Meanwhile, Axl stares blankly from just outside the bathroom, unmoving and uncertain as he watches Duff snag the chair from in front of the desk under the window. Dragging the chair behind him, he grinned at Axl, waving his hand and guiding him into the ensuite. Once they’re both inside, he closes the door behind them, allowing for some privacy from the three sets of eyes looking after them.

“Here,” Duff placed the chair in front of the sink, facing away, “sit down.”

Staring at the seat though, Axl felt cracked down the middle. Because he doesn’t think he can handle not being clean for any longer, but it hits him like a freight train that what Duff is suggesting involves him touching Axl’s hair, touching the sweat and grime and filth and it feels wrong to subject Duff to that.

He wants to scream. He wants to dig his fingers into his thigh. He wants them to stay. He wants them to have never been here at all.

“It’s okay,” he wraps his arms around himself, shaking his head slowly, “You don’t have to…”

“I know,” Duff's smile never wavered. He leaned against the counter casually, head tilting, “I want to,” his voice softens to almost a whisper, “It’s okay.”

Axl struggles to hold his gaze. It takes a minute, but Duff is patient, and eventually Axl manages to step over to him, turning and sitting slowly on the chair, head hung meekly.

The bassist beamed, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly, “Excellent! Hang on-” he bustled around the ensuite, snatching various items and placing them on the counter. Looking over his loot, he hummed and excused himself briefly. Axl blinked in confusion, but the tall blonde was back in less than a minute, closing the door again and placing a brush and a few bottles on the counter next to the hotel amenities.

“You don’t need all that,” Axl blurted out, feeling a little overwhelmed, “I just-... Just help me rinse it out, that’s all.”

“No way, dude,” Duff grinned, “If I’m doing this I’m doing it right. It’s a matter of pride. My hair routine is impeccable and I’ll prove it to you.” He gives Axl no room to argue, draping one towel around his shoulders and folding another to place on the edge of the sink. His hand smooths across Axl’s shoulders, smiling kindly, “It’s okay,” he assured him, “lean back.”

Doing as he was told, Axl let his head drop back into the sink, Duff adjusting the folded towel to make sure it cushioned the singer’s neck comfortably. Staring at the ceiling, Axl’s arms tightened around his stomach as long fingers swept his hair back into the sink.

“You’re okay,” Duff repeats, “just relax.”

He hears the water turn on, and there is a delay while Duff waits for it to heat up a bit before filling up a plastic cup and carefully pouring it over Axl’s hair.

Something releases in Axl’s chest. Warm water soothes the skin of his scalp, Duff’s hand steadily shielding his eyes and face, fingers carefully running through to try to loosen some of the larger knots. It feels like he can breathe, like something uncoiled around his lungs and they can expand properly for the first time in hours.

Duff hums a tune he doesn’t recognize, and Axl lets his hands unclench. After a few minutes, he sees the bassist reach for one of the bottles on the counter.

“You really don’t have to do all the fancy shit,” he mumbled.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Duff smirked.

Huffing out a laugh, Axl’s eyes slipped shut as Duff started working shampoo through his hair. He tried to remember the last time he was touched like this- gently and peacefully and unconditionally. On stage he was always sneaking for affection, throwing his arms around his bandmates and dragging them close, confident that they wouldn’t shove him away in front of an audience. It was rough and loud and desperate, like it always was, even off stage. But here it was quiet, Duff massaging his scalp and humming and Axl feels like he could fall asleep under his hands.

Coating his hair with a generous amount of conditioner next, the blonde nudged his shoulder lightly, “Sit up for a sec.”

Blinking, Axl straightened, starting a bit when Duff pushed his chair forward just enough so he could stand behind him. He then began diligently brushing the red strands, the conditioner allowing the brush to slide through the knots and matts with ease, though he was still cautious not to tug too hard.

Even when everything wasn’t collapsing around him, Axl doesn’t think he’s ever been this thorough with his hair. Or really with anything regarding his own body. The most he did was the necessary steps to not fall apart on stage- taping his ankles after the third time he sprained one, vocal exercises so he didn’t lose the one thing he was good at, shying away from hard drugs, things like that. Beyond that, he never really cared. He supposed his thighs were proof enough of that now.

But Duff was here, pressing him back to rinse out the conditioner, running his fingers through his hair and checking to make sure the water was still warm. Axl had given him multiple chances to do the minimum, to do nothing, but he chose to do more. He cared enough to do more. Even after everything Axl had put them all through.

The water turned off, and Duff wrung some of the water from his hair before nudging Axl forward again so he could gently rub a towel over his head. It suddenly struck the singer that Duff probably cared more about Axl than Axl did.

He doesn’t notice he’s crying until Duff is kneeling in front of him. It’s strange to have the tall bassist looking up at him. One hand comes to rest on the side of his face, holding him steady while the other softly wipes a wet washcloth over his forehead and cheeks. Axl can’t quite place the look in Duff’s eyes. It’s not worry, or pity, or disdain. He thinks the best word for it is compassion.

“You alright?”

Axl blinks slowly, thinking about the question. There are still tears escaping silently, and he knows that this moment of peace is temporary, that he has shaken the foundation of their group and it will take more than a day for them to find their balance again. But he’s clean, and he can look Duff in the eyes without feeling gutted, and his hands are relaxed in his lap.

So he nods.

“Yeah,” even his voice sounds more steady and strong, “I’m alright.”

~~~~~~~

Izzy turns music on again to try to cover up the awkward silence. They’re all sitting around the room, stiff and quiet, Axl laying on one of the beds and reading in an attempt to ignore all of them. He eyes the second bed suspiciously. When they had first arrived he hadn’t been in the right mind to really think about it, but now it bothered him. The hotel probably just didn’t have any more single rooms available- that would make sense given the last minute room change.

Snapping his book closed a little more forcefully than necessary, the redhead sat up and glanced around at his bandmates, “I’m tired, I’m gonna go to bed early. You guys can go back to your own rooms now.”

Duff, Steven, and Slash exchange nervous glances, but Izzy meets Axl’s stare head on. “We’re staying here.”

“That’s stupid,” Axl snapped back, “I’m just going to sleep. Go back to your room and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean, we’re not going fucking anywhere,” the rythym guitarist crossed his arms firmly.

Axl growled, “Why not?”

Izzy softened, just slightly, his voice lowering, “You know why.”

Standing, the singer glared, “I can take care of myself, y’know. Take my pills every twelve hours, change my bandages, blah blah, I don’t need you all hovering around me.”

“Obviously you do,” Izzy snapped, “or we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!”

“Don’t act like I’m the only one who’s fucked up!” Axl was yelling now. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t seem to stop, his voice only getting louder as the conversation went on, “I don’t remember you all scrambling to babysit Steven after he OD’d,” he snarled.

“Steven didn’t OD on purpose!”

“What, you think I got an infection on purpose?” he asked incredulously.

“Maybe not, but you hurt yourself on purpose!”

“So what, you’re just going to follow me around everywhere? You can’t watch me forever! After all,” He sneered, “You’ll have to go shoot up eventually.” The words are cold and cruel, and he sees Izzy’s jaw tense.

Eyes narrowed and nose flaring in rage, Izzy’s eyes dart down, landing on Axl’s hands, watching his fingers clench and unclench.

“Do it,” He spits out.

Axl blinked in confusion, “Do what?”

“Throw something!” he snapped, “Break something, tear the room apart! Come on, I know you want to!”

“I-” Axl ground his teeth together, fury rising in his chest, feeling cornered and trapped. Everything about this felt like a trap. “I want for you to leave me alone!”

“No you fucking don’t,” Izzy challenged, “If you actually wanted us to leave, then you wouldn’t be trying so hard not to freak out. If you wanted us gone you’d have already destroyed this room, and the last one, and the one before.”

“So, what? You’re mad at me because I’m trying to be better? Fuck you!”

“This isn’t better!” Izzy gestured at the singer as he yelled.

“Yes it fucking is!” Axl screamed, “It’s better! Everything was fucking better until I slipped up! I was being good, I was doing everything right! And I get it, I fucked up, I’ll be more careful now. But don’t you dare pretend like you didn't like me better when I was fucking bleeding!"

The words echo through the room, Axl’s chest heaving, and he can see all the fight leave Izzy on a single exhale. He looks gutted.

Swallowing, body still coiled with rage, Axl can’t bring himself to look at the others. The look on Izzy’s face is painful enough. Turning on his heel, he snatches a pack of cigarettes and a lighter off one of the nightstands before storming to the door.

“Axl-”

He ignores the call, throwing the door open.

“Axl-!”

The door slams behind him, and he runs.

~~~~~

Not that he makes it very far.

His legs and hips still ached, and he was tired, so he found himself stumbling before he even made it to the end of the hallway. Eyes clenched shut in frustration, he limps over to the door leading to the stairwell. Carefully, he makes his way down two flights before finally sliding down to sit on one of the steps.

The cigarettes are partially crushed from the tight grip he had held them in, but not ruined, lighting one up and inhaling deeply. Sighing, he feels some of the tension leave him with the nicotine hit, but even as he relaxes he feels the guilt grow.

Screaming at his bandmates wasn’t exactly better than trashing the room as Izzy had suggested. How many times was he going to mess everything up this week? How was he supposed to even fix this?

Maybe the disease wasn’t something he could bleed out. Maybe he was the disease.

He’s halfway through his second cigarette when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs above him. Closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall, he prays that maybe it’s just some random guest or maintenance person or something.

Still, when the steps come to a halt beside him and he feels a body sit next to him, he’s not really surprised. They pluck the pack of cigarettes and the lighter from his hands, and when he opens his eyes, Slash is casually lighting up.

Axl looks away again, and for a few minutes they smoke in silence.

Eventually though, once Slash reaches the end of his cigarette, he grinds it out on the floor next to him and sighs, “I’m sorry.”

Turning to him, Axl blinked in surprise, “What for?”

There is a long pause, Slash staring down at his hands with a sad look on his face. When he speaks, his voice is almost a whisper, “For not noticing. For not questioning when you started acting different.”

“It’s fine-”

“No, it’s not,” Slash insisted.

“You shouldn’t have to question why I’m suddenly less of an asshole!” Axl snapped, “That’s not your fucking job! The whole point of all this was so that you guys wouldn’t have to fucking deal with me!”

Running his hands through his hair in frustration, Axl put his head against the wall again. He wasn’t sure if he didn’t want to look at Slash or if he didn’t want Slash to look at him.

“Axl,” The guitarist spoke slowly, “I know things were… rough for awhile. I know none of us were really getting along-”

“You were getting along with each other just fine,” Axl mumbled.

Slash ignored him, “-but even if things weren’t great, you’re still our friend. Fuck, man, I still think of you as my best friend.” He hesitated for a moment as he thought through his next words, “Look… I’m going to be honest with you, okay?” His voice was gentle and sincere, “It’s hard sometimes. It can be frustrating when you get into those moods because we just don’t get it, y’know? We don’t understand what’s going on in that head of yours sometimes. But if I had to choose between you screaming at me and you hurting yourself, I will pick you screaming every time.”

“But I don’t want to scream at you!” Axl exclaimed, hands clenched desperately in front of him, “I don’t want to- to break things, or mess up our shows, or hurt anyone, or feel so fucking-” his voice cracked, and he snapped his jaw shut. His head falls forward, hair hanging in his face as he swallows thickly to try to hold back… everything.

It didn’t work though, and when he speaks his voice is a shaky whisper. He sounds defeated.

“I don’t want to be like this anymore, Saul.”

He barely has time to take a shuddering breath before Slash is slowly pulling him into his chest. His arms are warm, and gentle, and safe, smoothing up and down his back. Resting his chin on top of smooth red hair, Slash says with a voice full of understanding, “I know. I know you don’t.” He tightens his hold and Axl shakes harder, “We’ll get you help, okay? We’ll figure something out. We’ll find a way for you to feel better- an actual solution. But in the meantime? We would so much rather deal with a late show or a trashed dressing room than… than find you like we did that night.”

Axl is tired of crying. But Slash doesn’t mind, says nothing of the growing dampness on the front of his shirt, or the way the singer wraps his arms around his back to cling to him desperately.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps out, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

There’s so much he’s sorry for, and he doesn’t know if he is capable of articulating it all, but Slash nods, stroking his hair and Axl thinks he understands.

“I know,” he said, and he plants a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “We forgive you.”

~~~~~~~

Axl drags his feet walking back to the hotel room. Slash tries to comfort and encourage him, but he still feels anxiety like a vice grip on his heart. He had messed up so much, and they were all trying to help, even if he didn’t deserve it, and he went and yelled at them. And just because Slash said it was okay didn’t mean it was and he had to fix this, he had to, but he wasn’t sure how. He was scared that nothing would be enough.

When he finally steels himself and opens the door, he barely makes it into the room before a body collides with his, arm wrapping around him and pulling him as close as physically possible, one hand between his shoulder blades and the other cupping the back of his head. Axl feels his breath catch in his throat even as he sinks into Izzy’s warmth.

Izzy’s breath ghosts across the top of his head, and Axl slowly brings his arms up to hold him back. Sighing, he closes his eyes, letting his head rest against Izzy’s shoulder as he relaxes into the embrace. Neither of them say anything.

But neither of them need to.

~~~~~

Axl tosses and turns in bed. He’s tired, but it feels like his brain just won't shut off. He is alone on one of the queen beds, the others giving him a bit of space, which he figures makes sense given that he had tried to kick them all out a few hours earlier. Slash and Izzy are sharing the other bed, while Steven and Duff sleep on the pull out sofa in the corner of the room.

Everything was fine. Axl knew that everything was fine.

For now.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how delicate the situation was- he felt like he was on the thinnest sheet of ice and the slightest wrong move would send him plummeting into the cold and dark. Under the covers, he tapped his fingers against the tops of his thighs, the touch too light to be felt beneath the thick bandages. He wanted to press harder, to dig his nails in, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t betray his bandmates like that, couldn’t disappoint them again.

It wasn’t easy though, and he couldn’t stop tossing and turning and worrying. He was seconds away from raiding the mini fridge for something strong to clear his mind when the bed dipped behind him.

Jumping, he whipped his head around, coming face to face with Izzy, smirking down at him as he pulled the sheets back.

“Izzy? What the fuck are you-”

“You think too loud,” he explained, and Axl’s jaw clicked shut. The guitarist slid into bed beside him, turning onto his side to face the singer and opening his arms, “Come ‘ere.”

Huffing, Axl grumbles half-heartedly even as he curls up in the other man’s arms, Izzy chuckling at him as they made themselves comfortable. It did help, Axl admitted to himself, sighing as he tucked his head under Izzy’s chin. He was still awake, but at least he felt less jittery and tense.

Then, the mattress dipped again, and Axl felt someone crawling over them to get to the other side of the bed. Snapping his eyes open, he saw Slash finally settle on the other side of him.

“What the Hell?”

“Izzy abandoned me,” Slash pouted exaggeratedly.

“Oh my God, you fucking dork,” Axl laughed as Izzy flipped off the other guitarist. The three of them began to rearrange themselves, but as they did, a silhouette made its way over in the dark.

Slash held his arms out, wide-eyed, “No, no, no-!”

But it was too late, and Steven launched himself onto the bed, landing squarely on top of Slash, the guitarist groaning while the drummer giggled madly. Axl and Izzy burst out laughing as Slash shoved the blonde off, the two bickering and shoving at each other. They were so distracted by the chaos Steven had caused, that they didn’t notice another figure approaching until he was crawling onto the bed.

“Duff, no!” Izzy complained, “You're seven feet tall and these beds aren’t designed for five people!”

The bassist gave him the biggest, roundest puppy-eyes, his lip actually quivering dramatically, “So you’re going to all be together except me? You’re just going to leave me all alone while the rest of you cuddle? All by myself? Alone?"

“...Goddammit,” Izzy dropped his head back onto the pillow in defeat, Duff immediately dropping the ruse and bursting into a mischievous grin as he draped himself across the rest of their bodies.

“Jesus Christ,” Axl muttered, “What is this, ‘Kerrang!’?”

“Don’t act like that wasn’t the coziest photoshoot we’ve ever done,” Steven chimed in, still laying half on top of Slash.

It was a tight fit, and it took quite a bit of maneuvering to get them all comfortable, laughing as they shuffled around. Their bodies overlapped, limbs tangling and curling around each other. Somehow though, they made it work, each of them warm and comfortable as they drifted off one by one. It was ridiculous, Axl thought. Utterly absurd.

But he was still smiling, even when he finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

#weak ending but eh #my writing #Guns n Roses #gnr #guns n roses fanfiction #axl rose #slash #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #steven adler #self harm tw #tw self harm #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #I almost wrote more and included axl going to therapy and getting on medication and stuff #but this felt like a more natural end #so just like #imagine he does all the work and ends up healthy and happy #surprise! Jax rambles in tags

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criminalromantic · 4 years

Text

Cornelia Street - Chapter 7 (Billy Russo x Fem!Reader)

Summary: What happens when you and Billy don’t see each other?

Word Count: 1797

A/N: this is kind of a filler chapter, but I hope you enjoy it

Warnings: none

********************

Don’t come over today.

Was the text that you quickly sent Billy as you were ready for work. To say that you were nervous was an understatement. Never before you sent Billy that kind of text, but then again, you were always excited to see him. That one week alone was already quite a ride and you just wanted to be done with it and sort through your thoughts. It seemed to be chilly, but sunny day and you were not willing to let anyone or anything ruin your Friday.

As the day went you were feeling less tense, but at the same time more. You were thankful for every single minute when Billy didn’t show up. At the same time, you were scared that Billy replied to your text or worse - he would come through the door anytime and confront you about it. That is why you didn’t touch your phone since you sent the text and it has been hours since then.

The worst thing probably was that he didn’t know the reason behind your sudden change of heart. He didn’t know what he did or how you felt about it. According to his reputation and how it portrayed him to be, something like this was exactly something he would do.

Sound of the door opening brought you down to earth. It was a woman who bought a small bouquet for her friend’s birthday. Moments after she left, a man walked in.

He was tall, visibly muscular with short dark hair. As he walked towards you, you noticed his face looked like it had experienced a lot, but you didn’t judge.

“Hi, how may I help you?” You asked somewhat cheerfully out of habit as the man now stood on the other side of the counter.

“Hi, I’m looking to buy something for my girlfriend. A good pal of mine recommended this place, saying it’s his favorite in all of New York.” For some strange reason, he seemed a bit nervous as he spoke, a little smile on his lips.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that. I’m guessing that your friend really must like flowers. Anyway, what can I get you?”

“Seven pink roses, please. And no, he was never particularly into flowers. At least until, recently.” He explained as you grabbed the flowers and positioned them to arrange them. Could it be?

“Really? That’s interesting, but not in a bad way. Flowers can make our lives a little more beautiful one bouquet at a time.” For a second you raised your head to smile at the man. As you were finishing with your work, in the corner of your eye you saw him shifting from one leg to another uncomfortably. But you didn’t say anything.

“Alright, your total is 26 dollars.” He put a few bucks in front of you before you even finished your sentence. You handed him the change, he took it and put it all in your tip jar.

“Wow, that’s quite generous of you, thank you.” You said as 14 dollars landed in it.

“Excellent service, what can I say?” He hung around like he wanted to say something. Seconds later he turned around with a quick “bye” and left.

The rest of the day went by fast. Like every Friday, there were a lot of people buying flowers for dates or other celebrations, but the last hour was basically dead. Sometimes you wondered what it is like - to be hanging out with friends at a party or a bar or someone’s place. You never really get to do that. Usually, you’re tired after work and you’re more of a daytime person anyway. Most of your friends are like that too and the ones that aren’t - you aren’t that close to them. You are your own boss and you could close up early whenever you wanted, but you wanted to maintain a routine.

The clock struck 8 o’clock so you closed the shop and made sure everything was taken care of before you left for the weekend. Slowly you grabbed your phone and looked at it dreadfully. You didn’t want to check your notifications, but never using your phone for the rest of your life was kind of impossible. When you finally unlocked your phone, you saw… nothing. No notification. You felt relieved and slowly made your way upstairs to your apartment, where a hungry cat was already awaiting you.

While your day was calm, Billy’s wasn’t at all. Fridays were always hectic because everybody was trying to get their work done before the weekend - at least most people he worked with were like that. That meant that the entire day Billy was drowning in a pile of reports and contracts that needed to be checked. Not to mention that two days ago a friend - Dinah Madani - asked him to help her with a case. So basically since he got back to work on Wednesday, he hadn’t had a moment to take a breath. The whole day he was feeling stressed and became angrier and angrier when he discovered that some of the reports had incorrect information or some contracts didn’t have all the signatures they were supposed to have. Amateurs. Billy thought as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.

He looked at this phone, lying on the desk, and thought that he could use a little break. The first thing he saw was a text message from you. He was excited for a moment - until he saw what you wrote. What? He opened the conversation and his fingers hovered over the keyboard. He ended up writing nothing because he didn’t know what to write back. Instead, he just stared at the four words. When he finally put the phone away to get back to work, he couldn’t. Different reasons why you wouldn’t want him to come popped up in his mind and none of them were good. What if something happened to you? What if you felt sick again? What if you just didn’t want to see him again? But he was going to respect your wishes. Then he came up with a plan to see what was wrong and picked up the phone again.

“Hey, Frankie, uhm, are you free right now?” Billy asked a little timidly, not knowing how to word his question.

“Uh, yeah, what is it, Bill?”

“I need you to go to Y/N’s flower shop to check on her. For some reason, she doesn’t want me to come and I want to make sure she’s all right.”

“Wait, hold up. What do you mean she doesn’t want you to come over?” Frank was often Billy’s voice of reason and now it even seemed like he could read his mind.

“That’s what I don’t know, but she doesn’t want to see me today and as much as I want to go there right now, I can’t. So, will you go over there?” Billy flinched at how desperate and urgent his voice sounded, he was not used to that.

“Sure, why not. Send me the address.” He thanked his friend and quickly typed the address before sending it. He wasn’t completely calm, but he did feel a bit better and went back to work.

He was happy to hear from Frank that you were safe and nice as ever. He smiled at how Frank described your dedication to your job and mentally agreed. Another reason he smiled was that Frank liked you and his opinion mattered to him a lot. They have been through a lot together, seen each other’s ups and downs. They were always looking out for one another and that meant in all aspects of life - romantic included.

But one thing kept him up at night. If you were all right, why wouldn’t you want him to come over? Maybe it was nothing, maybe you were just as busy as he was. Maybe you had a lot of work to make up for the first three days of the week. But he had been there when you had a hard day and you never sent him on his way. He had a feeling that this was bad. And he didn’t like it one bit. What if you didn’t want to spend time with him anymore? Did he do something that made you change your mind?

He kept turning in his bed from one position to another. After a day like that, he thought that he would fall asleep as soon as he got into bed, but he couldn’t get you out of his mind. His phone was on his nightstand. Within reach. He contemplated calling you. Then he remembered that it was the middle of the night and he would probably wake you up, you would get angry at him for waking you up and he couldn’t come up with how that scenario would result in a good ending. He thought about sending a text, which he also figured was a bad idea. It was Friday and sending you a text would make it seem that he was getting drunk somewhere and texting you because of the alcohol. Neither of those options would give you the impression that he would like. Somehow, slowly, his eyelids became too heavy and he finally drifted off to sleep.

When you checked the weather forecast the next morning, you thought about how you were going to spend the day. To be more specific, you were thinking about outdoor ways to spend the day. Most of your week you were stuck inside and you felt more than ready to go out and enjoy some sunlight and fresh air. After a few minutes and consulting with your cat, you decided to go on a hike somewhere outside of New York.

Quickly you packed a bag with everything you might need. Some snacks, treats for Benjamin, a lot of water, some wet wipes - you never know when you might need those - and some other stuff. When you were satisfied with the contents, you got dressed into some comfortable leggings and t-shirt. You packed a spare t-shirt, in case you got sweaty and a hoodie if it got cold. Lastly, you put on some hiking boots. Only one thing left to do - get Benjamin ready for the adventure. You put the harness and leash on him and topped it off with a treat.

“Are you ready for adventure, Benji?” You asked in a baby voice.

“Meow.”

“Okay, let’s go.” You made sure you had everything, took Benji’s leash, and walked out the door.

When you stepped outside, you were met with chilly morning air. Taking a deep breath you felt good about your day.

That was until you stood face to face with a certain raven-haired man.

********************

Tags: @1-800-heartbreak @churchb

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo flower shop #billy russo cornelia street

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

Text

Slow Life (Chop and Change, Part 5.)

Series descriprion: Twenty years ago, you’ve given a promise to a boy who claimed to imprint on you. Against your will, you decided to keep it and to visit La Push just to see if anything has changed.

Part summary: The life at La Push slowly moves forward, and even your date day with Seth came along... But it did go nothing as you wished it would go.

A/N: Okay, I am not trying to make anyone look bad in here, I just think that La Pushers know a lot about vampires at that point - so they wouldn’t pressure vampire into doing something that’s not vampire-like

Also, the next part will be significantly shorter... You’ll see why.

Warning: It’s highly recommended to read the Football Time miniseries first since this contains an unlike pairing which is explained in the series, also the circumstances are given there.

Word counter: 6 K

Tagging: @nemodoren. @missdictatorme

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Series masterlist: H E R E

PICTURE SOURCE

"Well, start talking. We've been betting!" - Alice cried out with laughter as most of the Cullens gathered in front of the computer screen. You and Emmett were sitting on the other side. It was fun that Alice couldn't see anything that was about to happen to you or Emmett clearly, simply because of the number of shapeshifters you've been around. On what they've been betting, you were afraid to even guess. Yet at least one of the vampires had basic decent manners - and without any surprise, it was Carlisle. Of course, it was Carlisle. - "Is Seth doing better now?" - Doctor Cullen asked from behind all of his children gathering in front of the notebook, with concern in his voice. Both you and Emmett looked at each other with nasty giggles.

"First and foremost, everyone's doing good and we have to tell you a ton of 'Hi' from the Quileutes. They were asking about you." - You started to address as an adult would, but Emmett jumped into your speech. - "She's smelling like a wet dog and also forgot her blouse at his house, so," - "Emmett! Goddamn it." - You cried out but saw as both Bella and Rosalie gave Alice ten dollars. The future-seeing vampire just smiled happily, accepting the pocked cash. - "What the hell is that about?" - You opened up your mouth and wiggled your head. - "We were betting that it will take him at least a month to get under your skin. But Seth has his ways, as I see... Ew. That sounds gross." - Bella grinned at what she had said. Any of them had seen the man grown-up; most of them remembered him as a small kid.

"And I also kicked her ass when we've been chopping wood." - Emmett said proudly, looking at you. - "Don't worry, we hadn't hurt anyone, and Sam's glad he has an entire pile of wood for the winter. Children were standing far away." - You both started talking over each other, telling the Cullens about how you're doing in Forks and mainly in La Push, telling them every small detail.

You spent almost the whole night on the facetime, the Cullens changing in front of the screen. The only one who seemed to firmly believe that Seth will find his way, other than Alice, was Edward - so they've split the cash into halves. Whether metaphorically or literally, you didn't know, but you could imagine these to empty brains cutting the banknotes in halves. Just when you were about to end the call, Alice started to talk about some wedding which was including you too much for your liking - at that moment, you decided to do the laundry and to give yourself another long bath, since Emmett could smell the wet dog from you for miles.

The other morning, it was Friday, it was nice and sunny - so you decided to spend the day in the woods, hunting You were preparing for Port Angeles and Emmett heard, that there was too many bears at Mount Rock. To be honest, you had a ton of fun while fighting the bear. As you were walking to the Cullen house, it was twilight once more, leaving the woods in a nice, violet undertone for a moment before the night covered it. It was cloudy again, so this time, there were no stars. It was beautiful nonetheless - the way the moon was lighting the clouds from the inside was magnificent. - "I'll be leaving tomorrow." - Emmett said quietly, leading the way. Even though his voice didn't carry any emotion, you could tell he was smiling. - "I suppose I'll be going on my own, huh?" - At that, he sneakily looked at you.

"Unfortunately." - You agreed, but really, it could be heard that he's happy for you. And you were happy as well. It was still a mystery to you. How could the man look past your walls as fast as he did? Sure, he was very intuitive and notice when it came to you, but this was still scarily fast. But yeah, you liked him. And at that point, it was only slightly upsetting you. You only cared about Seth being alive and well. Maybe the imprinting was both-sided after all? Because the more time you spent with him, the more you appreciated him and cared for him. Soon, there won't be any alarm triggered in your head. - "Can I have at least one wish before I leave?" - He stopped and put his big palm on your shoulder. - "We'll see."

"I want to be your best man." - He smiled, watching a variety of emotions going through your face in the space of a minute. - "Fuck you." - Was all you could say before you took the lead yourself, walking to the house.

It was strange, the whole 'trying to look good for someone' thing. It was the first day in the centuries you've spent in front of the wardrobe, which you were allowed to use all you wanted, choosing what you'll wear. In the end, you didn't want to look too suspicious for the others in Port Angeles to notice, so you just chose a simple outfit.

Emmett left early in the morning, leaving you all alone in the Cullen residence - which was there for you as long as you'd need it. The closer you got to the evening, the more nervous you were. What on earth you were nervous about? Seth was all over the place for you since the time he first laid his eyes on you and you still were nervous because you didn't want to say something bad, look bad, stare all the time or do something to make him angry. He was important to you. As stupidly as it sounded, he found his way around you in a week. It couldn't be called 'loving', not just yet, but you did think about him as of your date.

Around six in the evening, you were there to pick him up. There was still enough time for you to have dinner before choosing some movie. Yet when you stopped the engine, you've noticed something different about him. - "Where did you leave your hair?" - You wondered, coming closer so you could touch him. Sure, he kept the hair long enough for some curls waving at the top of his hair, which were still falling into his forehead; but the long, black hair was gone. - "I need to keep it short because of the shifting. It gets annoying when you drag your fur on the soil." - Seth smiled and pulled out the flower he was hiding out of sight.

It was a rose, red as blood. Ironic, but still poetic. - "It's one of the flowers that are preserved. It should age slower." - He whispered when you just stood there, quietly watching the flower. He almost didn't notice a swift movement of your forearm that hugged his side, dragging him closer. It was a moment so quick and full of force that for a moment, Seth could barely breathe. Damn, you were a strong one. - "It's beautiful." - With a small smile, you kissed him on the edge of his jaw. - "Uh, seems like a have to get over the smell again." - You mumbled, ruining the romantic moment for good.

"Last time, you seemed to be doing good." - Seth rose his eyebrows and watched you opening the window in the kitchen, about which you already knew that can be opened with little force. Quickly, you put the rose into an empty vase before sliding back to Seth, closing the window behind. - "Hm." - He furrowed and put both his hands on his sides. - "What?" - "I might get as well rid of the door since you seem to be thinking it's useless." - This genuinely made you smile as he bumped his elbow to your shoulder, kissing the top of your head.

"Back to the previous topic. I was doing good because I spent more than twenty-four hours inside your bed, where your smell is the most intense." - "But you've been shopping?" - Seth answered with confusion, following you to the car. - "Who said I've been breathing there? I couldn't smell other smells, because I would have a hard time getting used to you when I'd get back." - The man looked at you for a second - his lips formed a straight line. So, just the way he did, you stood in the open door to your car with a smile.

"When I look at you, I see a funny, beautiful, and caring woman. But then I remember that you're a vampire and you, vampires, do a ton of weird stuff." - "What are you talking about? I'm not weird. Also, you change into a big fluffy dog, and?" - With that, Seth leaned his elbows into the top of the car and looked you in the eyes as he started to count on his fingers. - "You sit and stare without moving for hours, you never use the door or ask permission to enter a house, you just stop breathing for an unlimited amount of time... But this is what makes you fun. I like that you're weird. Normal isn't something for me, I think." - And with that, another kind smile spread all over Seth's face. Dear Lord, he was handsome and the shorter hair, even if long waves were your favorite without a question, was suiting him in away.

"As you mentioned the wolf thing... You know how you said my smell provokes your nose?" - Seth asked after a moment as you drove to Port Angeles. He noticed that you drive fast, not as fast as the Cullens, but you still were stepping over the speed limit. Yet, most likely, you weren't about to receive a fine - since Charlie had still a very strong connection to the Forks PD and if everything will go well, you will be Charlie's daughter-in-law one day. Yet your madman driving style was making him furrow at times. - "Yeah, it's just how it is." - You answered his question, quickly gazing at the man. - "I'll need to change for a day, maybe two. It's getting hard for me not to shift in your presence." - "Oh."

It almost came across as if you were... Not disappointed, just confused. Yeah, sure, you understood his natural need to change, but you forgot that he might be changing more just because you'll be around. Sure, you were irritated by the smell as well - but you still weren't changing into a huge dog. Yet Seth just needed to do that and he'll continue with needing it. - "Do you think we'll be able to figure it out, someday? You know, how to... Prolong it or something? I don't know how that works." - The way you shrugged your shoulders was extremely telling - it almost seemed that you're worried for Seth. What if he doesn't like to shift into a wolf? What if he'd like to stop one day? What would this mean for you?

But just because Seth wasn't a mind reader, he didn't understand what this was about. So, he just told you what was on his mind. - "It took you one day to get used to the smell, right?" - "I still felt it. It just got less intense, but it wasn't that bad anymore." - "I think I can do something similar. I just need time to get used to you being around just like you do. Naturally, you're a vampire, so even I wouldn't ever hurt you, my body still tells me that I need to change as soon as I can. Now, I'll need to change every two or three days to stay cool when I'm with you, but maybe after a year or two, I'll last a week or a month. We don't know that." - With that, the man put his palm on yours, which was holding the shift lever. - "What if you won't want to do it anymore? What then?" - The hand was making you nervous, but to be honest, you were interested in the answer more than in some damn hand holding yours. But Seth's grin gave you a slight help before you tried to guess. - "For a reason, there's no way in the world you'd stop with it, huh?" - You guessed, but Seth's grin gave it all away. It wasn't even a joke.

"I need to explain to you what's imprinting about again, don't I. The thing is - you're immortal. You're a vampire, you won't age, you won't die of sickness, you won't be any less beautiful than you're now. And if you don't age, what should make me wanna age?" - Seth asked you, and even though it was a rhetorical question, you still stopped at the aging thing. - "Shifters don't age at all? I thought that maybe, you're just getting old slower or something like that." - This was news to you, but it was good ones. - "No. Not a day since we start shifting. I guess you'll be stuck with me." - Suddenly, you moved his hand back, now having a big, bright smile.

"Keep that hand on your lap, sir, I'm still a strong, single lady." - Quickly, you placed a peck on his knuckles before you removed his palm from the lever because it was making you nervous.. - "And you'll stay strong. Just not single." - Seth muttered out under his breath. And though you should pretend that you didn't hear that, you smiled at the remark. It was fast, it was sudden, unexpected, but probably it was just the thing you needed in your life. Someone to share it with. And Seth, with both his kind personality and sometimes sassy sense of humor, seemed like a good person to choose.

He was like a ray of damn sunshine - the brightest you've met until that day. And if the imprinting meant that have found your soulmate which whom you were about to spend the rest of your damn days, if this wasn't any different from human/shifter imprinting, this ray was about to shine through each of your days.

Being on a date with him, an official one, about which you were so nervous, was kind of magical in the end. Seth told you to which restaurant in Port Angeles you should drive to - you had about an hour and a half to eat something before the last movie would be projected. About which you seemed untypically nervous - but Seth was more confused about something different. - "What did you just do?" - The man asked unbelievably and leaned his elbows to the desk of the table. You were sitting at a small table in the corner of the room, there was a basket with small pieces of bread in the middle of the table along with a lit-up candle. - "I think it's obvious when we're in a restaurant?" - It was a nonchalant response as you leaned closer to him as well, smiling into his surprised expression. - "You've just ordered food." - "Yeah, because we are sitting in a damn restaurant." - Seth furrowed even more after hearing those words, thinking about what you were saying. - "You don't have to pretend that you're eating normal food... For me. You know that right?" - It wasn't supposed to hurt you at all, Seth just didn't understand why you were making yourself do something you didn't want to. He didn't want you to do stuff that was unnatural just for the sake of it.

But it did hurt your feelings in some way. If Seth wouldn't stop at you ordering dinner, you wouldn't even flinch. You'd eat everything they would serve you, without stopping to think about it. You'll throw it up later, of course, but you wanted Seth to feel more human in your presence. - "Okay." - You said simply, having a saddened grin on your face. When Seth realized you maybe were trying to make him feel natural, he leaned over the table to catch your hand. - "I'm a big boy, I'll eat your food." - "Stop that, you'll be sick. I just let it lay on the table." - "Oh, you don't know what you're in for, do you?" - Seth's face lit up with a flirty smile as he gently put his lips on your knuckles. - "Miss, you need to learn how to cook, because my stomach doesn't have an end. Every shifter is like that." - There was a small while when Seth looked away from you he was lost in his memories there. - "Just after I started shifting, Sam took us to Emily almost every damn day. And the woman cooked baked and prepared hoards, tons of food every time she heard we were about to visit. Any food ever remained after us. We're like damn animals." - With that, he took both your palm to both of his. He was so much warmer, softer, and bigger than your palms almost lost as he gently held them.

"And I can promise you that whatever you'll cook, even if it will be some experiment or if it just won't work out, I'll eat it." - Hearing those words was so sweet. Seth was ready for the first few months, years most likely. There was a lot for you to learn about, especially when you couldn't taste normal human food and smelled it very subjectively. Cooking as a whole will be hard as hell for you and Seth could already tell that you'll be sticking your arms to pots and catch hot pans to your palms, yet he was willing to eat all of it. He trusted you not to poison him. Which made you smile back with shining eyes. - "It'll take some time before I learn how Emily bakes her muffins." - You answered with a smile and quickly squeezed his palms with yours, not letting go of them.

There was something else making Seth furrow. Without a doubt, the vampire transformation appeared to make you the apex predator for humans. It could be the smell, he could smell something flowery under the rotten tomatoes, it could be the way you spoke, moved, thought... But it was most likely your appearance that made a lot of the men in the restaurant stare at you shamelessly. For him, there was anyone prettier than you - to describe you, he wasn't able to use words. But he could see the stares, he was able to guess the thoughts they had... And it was very unsettling.

"Stop paying them attention, come on." - You smiled and put your palms back on your lap, leaning your back into the chair as the waitress put both the plates on the table. Her eyebrows rose when she noticed there wasn't any place on your side of the table and your boyfriend was seemingly ready to eat both the plates. - "Lasagne?" - She asked nervously, pretty sure that it were you, who ordered this particular food. Without looking up from Seth's face, you almost whispered. - "Both are his." - "But..." - The woman took in a short breath, watching you sitting there with your palms in your lap. - "He's hungry. Give him both the servings." - This time, you rose your eyes to her. For a moment, she couldn't catch her breath - she was barely one year old when Cullens had left, which meant that she couldn't meet any vampires. This was her first time seeing someone so breathtakingly beautiful and charming. Without further opposition, she put both plates in front of Seth and left the table, suddenly being all sweaty and weirdly nervous.

"You didn't have to do that. The poor girl would give me the meal anyway." - Seth mumbled, watching both the plates to decide which he would eat first. The lasagna looked delicious, but the pasta he ordered did look good too. - "I didn't do anything." - Oh. Okay. Maybe you didn't have this effect on Seth, because he realized a fairly long time ago that you were not only beautiful but mesmerizing as well. Maybe you didn't do this to him because the imprinting made him fall in love either way, without using your vampire charm on him. - "Okay." - Seth ended the topic, diving right into the lasagna.

You were doing it again. There you were, leaning your back into the chair below, without any sign of movement or breathing. The eyes in a color of caramel were stuck at him and him only, he didn't even know if you have blinked. This time, however, you watched him devour the food at almost a fascinating speed, having a small smile on your face. Then he drank both glasses of wine, straightening when he was done with the food.

Just when you thought you're going to see a movie, Seth stopped you. - "What are you doing? We have less than twenty minutes." - "Do you want to go see a human movie. Come on, we both know you're not interested in any stuff like that." - This had hurt you once more. Why was he like that? Was it so hard for him to believe that you're interested in having a normal human date? - "I have something better for you. It's just as fun, I swear." - The man said with a smile and put his hand in front of you, wiggling his fingers as he waited for the keys from your car. - "Do you think I can't act like a damn human for an evening? What's your point? First, you don't let me eat my damn food, and now, you... Seth, why are you doing this to me?" - This date was starting to be a disaster. At least from your point of view. Although you had a feeling that Seth doesn't see you as humanlike, his smile widened even more. - "This is just as human. And as I said, more fun. Don't you trust me?" - With a charming smile, the man wiggled his fingers again. It wasn't making you happy to give him the keys, but you did so nonetheless.

Your eyes were throwing knives, daggers, and bolts of lightning when you realized he's driving to the First Beach located under the cliff he took you a week ago. Oh wow. You couldn't wait to spend time with the girls who quite obviously didn't like you.

Yet when he opened the door for you, like the gentleman he was, you were curious when you realized the voices were male. Sure, there were the girls who didn't like you at all, but there were more boys you weren't quite able to recognize. They weren't at Sam's grill party, these were a lot younger. - "Time to meet the rest of the family." - Seth told you quietly while grasping your palm in his, making sure you won't wiggle out. Damn, you had to say that he was stronger than any human being you encountered before. Sure, there was this thing about Seth not being entirely human, yet your body wasn't resisting as he dragged you along. - "Are you gonna tell the stories again?" - You asked a moment after that, watching the boys with your eyes opened wide. - "No. This is a party in the La Push style, baby." - Seth flirted back, turning back to look at the people present. These boys were barely in their twenties, you realized, just like the girls. Yes, there was one man with curly hair and you suspected that a huge man who was turning his back at you was Paul, but... And then it hit you.

A new generation of the shifters. Of course. The kids Jake and Seth were responsible for. You weren't entirely sure that most of them had shifted yet, but you didn't suspect so - some of them had long, wavy black hair just like Seth had until that afternoon. Which, as he told you, wasn't handy for a shifter.

"Look who made it!" - One of the boys cried out suddenly, making you stiffen under Seth's force. - "It's okay." - As if he knew something you didn't. - "If you're worried that you'll be the one who makes them shift, trust me, these boys know Emmett and Esme. Nothing happened until now." - Seth put a palm on his heart, swearing on his dignity and honor. Sure, this wasn't what you were worried about, but go ahead, you mumbled under your breath and let him drag along.

A group of boys gathered around you and you'd swear that each of them was staring at you. Because they were. Yet not because you'd be a vampire, no - rather because they'd heard so much about you already that they were sure you're a myth rather than being real. All of them had to say... Seth wasn't making up a single thing about your beauty. Damn, you felt like a museum exposition.

"You're the vampire girl." - One of them said. - "Great to see you finally together." - Another finished. - "At least Seth won't be sighing all the time." - The third one chimed in. At that moment, Seth wanted to drag you away - yet just because you started to be interested in the conversation, you stiffened every muscle in your body and smiled at the boys, listening to what they had to say. Uh, you could tell it was about to get spicy just because Seth groaned and looked away from you. - "Is it Saturday?" - The first boy sighed, and the one who chimed and put his palm over his forehead. - "No, it's just Friday." - "Damn, the date's so far away." - "What will I wear? Should I cut my hair, yeah, I'll cut it." - They'd continue if Paul and the other older man wouldn't stop them. Just then, you realized that you were chuckling the whole time.

"Let them be, young men. You'll have the whole evening to make fun of Seth." - Paul patted one of the boys' shoulders while going for a hug with you at the same time. - "Nice to see you again, Y/N. Ignore them, we're not that uncultivated, I swear." - "The man hung his arm around your shoulder, leading you to the campfire. - "I would offer you some meat or a drink, but..." - "Don't worry about that." - With a small smile, you dismissed, sitting one of the logs, mainly because Paul pushed you to sit there. The second man with dimples in his faces and curly black hair sat down next to you, looking into the fire. They were just slightly older than Seth, so you figured out that they've stopped shifting at the same time as Seth and Sam did, but Seth was younger than them and he started shifting just before you rolled to La Push.

Said 'boyfriend' of yours was chatting with the other boys, joking and laughing; not that you couldn't hear them, you just concentrated on Paul and the second man. Of course, as could be expected, soon the girls started to stare at you with wrath in their eyes. You could understand. Seth was handsome and older, which could wake up something inside a young girl who knew Seth as the single teacher from La Push. And now, you just stormed in and tore down, maybe even claimed, most of his attention. Yet Ellie waved at you with a bright smile, letting you know that there's still someone who likes you.

"This kind mister here is sir Quil Ateara the fifth." - Paul pointed at Quil, who offered you a handshake. - "We've met, didn't we?" - You wondered. Quil was seemingly surprised that you could recall meeting him twenty years ago. - "There was a lot of us. It's nice that you remember me." - "Your face hasn't changed a bit, I swear. In fact, I, as an immortal being, can say that's impressive." - You smiled back at Quil. - "Well, you look exactly the same as I remember you. Except you're not cursing in every direction."

"That's what can Emmett do to me." - With that, you smiled at the fire. Although you didn't consume normal human alcohol, you asked Paul to give you a red cup with some. Yes, you were about to awkwardly hold it in your palm the whole time, but you seemed to be more human that way. - "So, how do you like it here? Paul told me that you were visiting Sam on Sunday's grill party at the Uleys, right?" - Quil seemed to be so nice. You really like this guy. - "It was great. Emily tried to cook with me... This didn't go the way she expected..." - At that, Quil started to laugh out loud, making you sure that he had already heard the story about the vampire girl sticking her whole arm into the pot. Yet although this made him laugh from the bottom of his belly, he didn't change the subject to the said story.

"People are lovely here. I was worried that I might not fit in." - "If you didn't hear about that, we already had made our truce with vampires." - Paul muttered and sat down next to Quil, leaving place for Seth next to you. - "No. It's just that... I've been living alone for quite some time. Century... Or two." - The two men started to laugh suddenly. - "Only a vampire can say this with a serious face. A century..." - "Or two." - Pual finished after Quil and now, when you get the joke, you started to laugh as well.

Suddenly, a beautiful woman appeared out of nowhere with a guitar in her palms. She was pretty, very pretty. First, she smiled at Quil, kissed him, and then she offered you a palm. - "My name's Claire. I'm Quil's wife." - She muttered and naturally, she stopped at your skin being ice-cold. Like almost everyone else, she immediately knew who you were. Quickly, you moved from Quil to let her sit down and sipped a bit of the beer. Each of them stared at you for a moment. - "What?" - You asked. - "Never seen a vampire gulping down on a beer. How does that work?" - Paul asked with a serious furrow. - "I have my ways. Jesus, you people can't get over a vampire acting humanlike." - There was an irritated sigh at the end.

"Where's Rachel? I thought she'll be here." - At that point, Paul and Claire started to chatter, leaving you out. Thankfully, Seth finally broke out of the chain of young men. Seth, thinking he'll freak you out, suddenly put both his palms on your shoulders. At the same time, he lowered his head and put his lips on the cup. You decided you'll work with him and tilted the cup enough for him to drink from it. - "Hey man." - Seth handshakes Quil and sat down next to you, hugging your back with his palm. Naturally, you leaned your shoulder to his chest, smiling without realizing. Rachel and Paul grinned at each other, noticing how good this was looking for Seth.

As soon as the ray of sunshine joined in on the conversation, he took your cup out of your palm and thanked for it - along with a small kiss on your temple - and soon after that, he devoured a whole grilled chicken cutlet. Damn, they had the appetite for real, didn't they? As it was at the meeting at Uley's, these people were amazing as well. And wow, Claire was rocking that guitar. She also had a beautiful voice to start with, making you listen to the songs with unerring melancholy. - "Will you, my dearest friend?" - Seth asked suddenly, looking at Claire. - "Anytime you ask, sir." - She answered with a giggle.

"And you, ma'am, will you care for a dance?" - Seth picked himself almost nonchalantly, already tugging your palm. As you realized she's playing the Violet Hour, also known as the song you liked to dance to, you opened up your mouth and dragged Seth somewhere, where you had more space to dance. And as soon as you started to dance and Seth's friends started to sing, out of sync entirely, the man could understand why you dragged him so far. He could barely hear the chords, but you were moving in rhythm and led the dance. When you moved him around like a rag doll, he only started to realize how strong you, in fact, were. All the time, you were laughing. Sometimes, you whirled around, sometimes, you made him whirl around. But the most important about all of that was your forearm pushing him to meet you in half-way the whole time. - "Is this better than some movie night?" - Seth mumbled when the La Pushers yelled the last chorus in the back. After a moment, you nodded.

"Much better." - You smiled, leaving your palms to grip on his t-shirt as Seth leaned down to kiss you. The others could see you. And? You'd kiss in front of them sooner or later, wouldn't you? - "But you didn't wiggle out of the movies just yet." - A whisper left your lips as you stepped aside, slowly walking back to the logs. - "Wait. You taste... Like beer?" - Seth furrowed, catching your palm in his once again. - "And so do you. What's wrong with that?" - And with that, you dragged him back to Claire, Quill, and Paul, finishing the holy trinity of imprinters and imprintees.

It was shortly after midnight as the adults decided that what's enough is enough. Youngsters, of course, hadn't drunk any alcohol - but Seth drank for all of them without a problem. It was hard to make him walk to the car, let alone to sit his damn ass down. - "Does anyone care for a ride home?" - You cried out to the rest of the youngsters, but Paul just waved you off. - "Take him home, he had enough. Quil and I will take care of it." - The man smiled at you, waving to say his goodbye.

When you parked in front of his house, the first thing he was trying to do was open the damn window. - "Seth?" - Whispering his name to his ear asked all of the questions you didn't express out loud. With concern, you watched as he tried to dig his nails to open the window. - "You don't use the door... Soooo... I just wanna be like you." - The man leaned his head to your shoulder with a total puppy smile, making you burst out with laughter. - "But I am usually sober, I look hot and I know what I'm doing." - You mumbled, dragging him to the door. - "Yeah." - Seth said after of moment of thinking about what you've just said.

Getting him to lay in bed, well, that was another quest you spent almost ten minutes with. You tried to put some kind of pajama on him since that was what normal people do before going to bed, but this man was one persistent bastard. He didn't put a single article of clothing before climbing there, going to sleep dressed in his briefs only. It took a lot of your willpower not to roll eyes as you left the bedroom and almost walked out of the house with the rose you've got. - "Where are you going?" - It was nothing but a whisper coming out of the bedroom. Seth's head was pressed into a pillow, he had the blanket thrown over his body so badly that it uncovered everything except his ass and he was laying all over the damn bed. But with a sigh, you walked back to the bed and carefully sat down. As you were used to, your fingers started to play with his hair, moving strands from place to place. - "Home so you can sleep well tonight." - "I thought you'll be staying over." - Somewhere, Seth dug enough willpower to at lead lean into his elbow, looking at the small smile you were giving him.

"That's not how the first date is supposed to end. I'm not a light maiden, sir." - "Oh, that's not what I meant." - Seth took your palm and placed a kiss to the crevice in front of your wrist. - "Come on. Stay the night." - The man begged once more, still kissing the small, sweet spot. - "I'll stay an endless amount after this night." - You promised, kissing the back of his head. - "But you need to sleep well. We have a trip planned tomorrow." - "We do?" - Seth wondered, taken away by it. - "I found a spot you'll love. Goodnight." - For the last time, you gently palmed his jaw and leaned for a kiss; being far gone in the next second. But Seth smiled, still feeling the sweet scent of your breath on his face.

#alice and edward actually share one functioning brain #no-one will convince me otherwise #i love emmett based on his chaotic persona #I dig him so much #the twilight saga #twilight crackheads #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #seth Clearwater #paul lahote #quil ateara #claire ateara #la push #damn the place looks cool #i would like to see it one day #also we love chaos teens #yas queen

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spectraspecs-writes · 4 years

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Kashyyyk - Chapter 66

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 65. Chapter 67.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues thank you for reading you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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I wake up with a sneeze. There was a vision, too, but the sneeze interrupted the vision as well. My head feels fuzzy and puffy. Haven’t felt this since… well, ever, actually. No idea what’s going on.

I sneeze again, and it hurts. Bastila wakes up now. Startled awake by my sneeze. She stretches a bit, asking, “Are you alright, Rena?”

“I’m fine,” I say, and my voice sounds stuffy, “I think something’s just tickling my nose.”

“We’ve received another vision,” she says, “The Force is guiding us, helping us retrace the steps of Malak and his old Master. Leading us ever closer to the Star Forge. Kashyyyk is a lush but simple and undeveloped world. I would not have expected to find the alien technology of a Star Map here. Kashyyyk is a lush but simple and undeveloped world. I would not have expected to find the alien technology of a Star Map here.”

“I thought the same thing about Tatooine,” I say. I stretch and roll my head. “It looked to me like the Star Map was on the forest floor.”

She gives a small shrug. “The Wookiees of Kashyyyk make their home high among the wroshyr branches; only their bravest warriors dare to descend into the forbidding depths of the forest. If the Star Map is located far beneath us on the planet's surface, as our vision seems to suggest, it is unlikely the Wookiees even know of its existence,” she says, “No doubt things will become more clear once we discover the Star Map's location.”

I sneeze again. “Ow!”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“No,” I say honestly, “but there’s not much I could do about it anyway, is there?”

“We could…”

“Bastila,” I interrupt, “I can handle it. I’ll be okay.”

She looks at me skeptically, but she accepts it. “If you insist,” she says, “Czerka maintains the port here…”

“Fantastic.”

“... I expected that would be your reaction. I suspect when they ask for a docking fee you will find a way to avoid it?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Ordinarily,” she sighs, “yes. In this circumstance, no.” Oh? What changed your mind? “As a Jedi, I know I should remain neutral, but personally, I find the slaving operations on this planet to be appalling. For the record, I do not encourage any disruption to the slaving operations…”

“But if something were to happen to stop or hinder the operations you wouldn’t be all that upset about it,” I finish, “I get the picture.” I clear my throat and cough a little. “Zaalbar must feel awful still.”

“Mission would know better than I could,” Bastila says, “but I would imagine yes. He still knows a great deal about the planet, however. I would recommend bringing him along when you go.”

“Mission, too - if he’s uneasy, she’ll probably help,” I say. I sniffle a little. “I’ll ask Carth, too - he should keep my more chaotic impulses in check for you.” She smiles at that. Bastila can’t fool me - she thinks I’m very chaotic although she’ll never say it out loud. Compared to Bastila, who’s very consistent. I’m just… not. Sometimes she feels like a real stick in the mud. But then she probably sees the balls-to-the-walls party that I am as a danger to others or a disaster waiting to happen. She may not like my friendship with Carth, probably because she’s afraid that the fact I think he’s attractive will turn into something else, which I doubt, but like it or not she can’t ignore that he does keep me from going wild.

I swap out my stamina implant for a neural one. Hopefully that will do something for the fuzziness I feel in my head. It won’t do anything right away, but maybe it’ll do something.

I order a little breakfast out of the synthesizer. I can’t tell if it tastes gross because of the synthesizer or because my nose is stuffed up and everything tastes bad. But as gross as it is, I need to eat something. It’s weird, because I usually like this, it’s a sort of berry bread, and the synthesizers made it okay once before.

Carth comes up to the synthesizer and gets a cup of caff. “Morning,” he says to me, “Sleep okay?”

“No different than usual,” I say, and then I sneeze again, painfully. “Damn!”

“Are you alright?”

I sigh. “I swear, the next person to ask me that… I’m fine. I’m just sneezing a bit. Something’s just tickling my nose.”

He holds his hand to my forehead - Dad Carth much? “Well, you’re not feverish, so that’s good. Even a mild bug can make short work around a ship as small as this.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I tease him.

He chuckles shortly. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from,” he says, “You were fine yesterday. I wonder if it’s something about Kashyyyk.”

“Only one way to find out,” I say, and I sneeze again, “Feel like coming with me?”

“Of course,” he says.

“Let Zaalbar know if you see him,” I say, “Mission, too.”

“You got it.”

-------

We find Mission and Zaalbar and head out. I can’t see the sun because of all the trees, but if I had to guess it’s around midday. Zaalbar shuffles a little uncomfortably, seeing the Czerka workers at the docks. “The slavers are still here,” he says, “This dock is theirs. I doubt anyone has risen to try and fight. Nothing has changed.”

“We’ll see what we can do, Zaalbar,” I say.

A Czerka worker comes up to me, an Ithorian. “Greetings to you. I am Janos Wertka. I am the dock master here,” he says, and then he starts to scroll through his datapad. He makes an uncertain noise. “While I am pleased to welcome you to planet G5-623, I do not see your ship on my docking schedule.”

“G5… uh, whatever it was - am I in the wrong place?” I’m confused. “I thought this planet was called Kashyyyk?”

“That is what the dominant indigenous species calls this world,” Wertka says, “but maintaining this outpost grants Czerka Corporation naming rights in the trade guides.” I’m sure they didn’t think to ask the Wookiees about that. “But, I'm sorry, I really must insist that docking fees be paid before I impart any further services. I must follow proper procedure. Upon collection of the correct fees, I will extend what resources the Czerka Corporation can offer. I'm sure you understand.”

Yeah, sure. I’m not going to support your slaving operations. I wave my hand, reaching out with the Force. “I don’t need to pay the docking fee,” I say.

His face changes - success! “Perhaps you don't need to pay the docking fee. Any services you need will more than make up for it.” As if. “I see you have a Wookiee with you,” he says, looking at Zaalbar, “Can I assume you understand their language? For a fee, Czerka Corporation can provide a translator for you during your visit.”

“No, I’m fine,” I say. I sneeze again.

“Very well,” he says, “though only the most adaptive people seem to comprehend the Wookiee language, such as it is.” Relax, Rena, causing an incident with a simple dock master is not going to do anything to improve the situation for the Wookiees. “Now then, please follow me to our information center. I will answer any further questions there.” Might as well.

When we get to the information center, the Ithorian stands behind a counter and asks me, “How can Czerka Corporation serve you during your visit to Edean?”

“Edean, G5-whatever - how many names does this planet have?”

“G5-623 is the numerical designation,” he answers, “The galactic Basic name is ‘Edean,’ chosen by corporate ballot among stockholders. At any rate, ‘Edean’ is more pleasing than "Kashyyyk." The language of the dominant indigenous species is quite crude.” What the hell is it with Czerka that if you can’t comprehend the native language at the first listen you think of the natives as less than? First the Sand People, now the Wookiees! Good God, have some morality.

“What else is on this planet?” Carth asks for me - I think he understands that I’m getting ever more angry the more this Ithorian says.

“An endless array of dangerous creatures, it seems,” he says, “The great trees harbor any number of dangers below. We've detected odd energy signatures on occasion, but exploration is costly amongst creatures even more difficult than Wookiees.”

“Odd energy signatures?” Carth repeats, “Have you ever checked those out?”

“We send expeditions, of course, but they come back with little, if they come back at all,” he says, “In any event, it would seem you are already acquainted with this world, given your choice of travelling companion.”

“I have been away for a very long time,” Zaalbar says sadly.

Wertka looks surprised. “You let the beast speak for you? You allow it more liberties than most of our customers.”

Excuse me? “Allow him more liberties?”

“He means that they are slavers,” Zaalbar growls, “They take my people from their homes and sell them to the highest bidder.”

The Ithorian looks at Zaalbar sideways. “Your current Wookiee seems displeased with the situation, but I fail to see a concern. You seem to be a satisfied customer.”

“Zaalbar isn’t a slave!” Mission shouts.

“He’s here because he swore a life-debt to me after I freed him from slavers!” I want to strangle this Ithorian. Yeah, yeah, there is no emotion, there is peace, to hell with that! An entire population of a planet is at risk of enslavement because of this damned corporation!

“Ah, a very difficult thing to stage,” he says, “I commend you for it. So much easier than relying on restraining collars.”

Zaalbar roars. “Do not demean the life-debt! Do not!”

Now I think Wertka understands just precisely how pissed I am. “I must warn you that you will be blamed for the actions of your Wookiee. Please… call him off.”

“And just why should I?” I say quickly, “Hell, I should kill you myself, you disgusting slaver!” Thank God Bastila’s not here.

“I am merely a servant of the corporation!” he says nervously, “The Wookiee leadership is in agreement! Harvesting is made as delicate as possible!”

“HARVESTING?!?” I shout.

“Please! It is not my decision! It is… an acceptable practice, I assure you!”

Finally, Carth pulls me back. Almost like Bastila had a talk with him about keeping my hands clean. “Why do the Wookiees tolerate you doing this?” he asks, and he takes my lightsaber from me.

“It is not me, personally,” Wertka says, sweating nervously, “I merely represent Czerka Corporation at this outpost. There are other directors at other stations, of course. Arrangements have been made with the Wookiee leadership. Harvesting is handled as delicately as possible, relatively speaking.”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Carth says, “but she’s not exactly delicate. Maybe if you tell me more, I can try to calm her down.” I’m glad he hates this as much as I do.

“If it will ease her temper, I will give specifics.” Wow, Carth can sweet talk aliens? Impressive. I’ve always had difficulty sweet-talking Ithorians. “We supply arms in exchange for a supply of healthy Wookiees. We are kept profitable and an agreeable leader is kept in power. It keeps the process from becoming a constant firefight.”

“What’s this leader’s name?” Carth asks.

“I believe his name is Chuundar. I don't deal directly with them, thank goodness. Far too brutish.”

Zaalbar flinches a little, hearing the name. “That was not a name I wanted to hear.”

“It sounds as though your thrall has an opinion about our arrangement with this leader,” the Ithorian says, “but it doesn't matter. Chuundar is unquestioned.”

“What’s the matter, Big Z?” Mission asks him.

“This is not something I will talk about,” Zaalbar says, “Not yet.”

“I won’t let this continue,” I say.

“It's not up to you,” he says, “This planet is not a member of the Republic, and its backward citizens hold no rights. I'm sorry you are offended, but this operation is very humane. Even the Wookiee leadership knows it is more beneficial to work with us.”

“Humane, you call it?” Carth repeats, “Beneficial? Sounds like a bunch of excuses, if you ask me.”

“Even if you did do something drastic here,” he says, “the Czerka Corporation has other outposts on Edean. It would change nothing.”

“Let’s go,” I say, “We’re not going to get anywhere here.”

When we’re out of Wertka’s earshot, Carth comes up to me. “You alright?”

“I’m pissed!” I shout, “An entire species is being exploited and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it!”

“I agree!” Carth says, “But threatening people isn’t going to help the Wookiees any.”

“What do you expect me to do? Just let it happen?”

“No, but…” He stops. “How long have you been scratching your arm?”

“What?” I look. “I don’t know, it itches.” I sneeze again.

“There’s blood - you’ve scratched your arm open!” He pulls my arm away to stop me scratching through my robe.

“So I’ll slap a kolto patch on it, big deal.”

“I’m getting you back to the ship,” he says, turning me around back towards the Hawk. He hands Mission my lightsaber.

“Carth, I’m okay, I…” I sneeze again. “Damn it!” It’s worse out here!

“Uh-huh. Come on, back to the ship,” he urges. And I’m not in much of a position to argue with him.

#knights of the old republic #star wars #kotor #fiction #autistic artist #specs writes stuff #kotor fic #rena visz #oc #fem!revan #ls!revan #carth onasi #bastila shan #mission vao #zaalbar #kashyyyk #chapter 66

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go4blood · 5 years

Text

tell me your favorite songs // c.h.

Hello! This is the second piece in my 9to5!sos series! In case you aren’t aware, my 9 to 5 series is the boys in like, normal jobs. I have already posted the Luke one where he is a waiter. Ashton will be a barista and Michael will work in a bookstore. Hope you guys like this fic in the series! I made a playlist to go with this fic in particular with every song I mentioned!

Word count: 2.9k

Pairing: record shop!calum x reader

Content: smut, praise kink, brief choking, a lot of fluff, and good songs

—

You parked your car in the mostly empty parking lot of the local record store. You just bought an apartment in your hometown after finishing college, and it was great to be back to what you knew. You were a frequent customer at this particular record shop before you left for college, so when you came back, you knew you had to stop by again. You walked in and were greeted by the sound of Rebel Rebel by David Bowie playing over the speakers and monotone voice coming out of nowhere, “Welcome to Josey Records, how's it going?”

You turned to the counter to see a boy with dark curly hair and brown eyes. He had a round face and strong brows, and he sported a Guns N Roses tee and plaid trousers. If looks could kill, you’d be dead on arrival. He looked bored to death as he sorted through some boxes of records. He looked oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on why.

“Oh, just potentially buying a new record. Not sure which, though.” The records were sorted alphabetically, and you looked through the J’s. Janis Joplin, Jimmy Eat World, Elton John, and even the Jonas Brothers were there. There was a good mix of every genre, and you were eager to check the whole place out after 4 years of being away.

“Looking for any artist in particular? I don’t know what music you like, but I also don’t know if you only buy vinyl to display or your wall and never play. Most girls are that type.”

You were taken aback at his comment for sure. If he was planning on getting any sales, that wasn’t any way to talk to a customer. “Pardon me?Most girls?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Well, you just seem like the type of girl to buy a vinyl of The Neighbourhood or Ariana Grande to display on a shelf and collect dust rather than any good music is all.”

Oh, he was one of THOSE types of record store employees. A music snob. He probably worships The Rolling Stones or U2 just because they aren’t mainstream. But this is the only record store in town, and you weren’t going to just stop coming here. You walked up to the counter, and looked straight into his eyes, “Listen, uh, what is it,” you looked down at his name tag and back up at him, “Calum. Wait a minute,” Everything made sense. You did know him. 11 AM until 2 PM every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday you had music theory with him your junior year of highschool. He was a music snob back then, and obviously nothing had changed, “We had music theory together, Calum Hood. Obviously you’re still an arrogant prick.”

He scoffed, “Well, sweetheart, at least I have taste, because you obviously don’t.”

You rolled your eyes, going back to the J’s and picking up To Be Continued by Elton John and setting it on the counter, “I’ve been looking for this one for a while, so how about you ring me up so I can leave.”

He chuckled, ringing it up and telling you the total with a cocky grin, obviously glad he got under your skin.

You gave him exact change and grabbed the record, leaving without a word. You got back into your car and drove to your apartment, walking up the endless flight of stairs and going inside. You took your shoes off and went to the bedroom to change into comfier clothes. You then turned on the TV and picked a show on Hulu to watch and drift asleep to.

—

You awoke to the buildings fire alarm going off. You cursed quietly, quickly slipping on the nearest pair of shoes and running downstairs and outside. Everyone was also slowly exiting the building one by one, extremely groggy and tired. You looked at your phone to check the time, and it was 3 in the morning. You looked down at your attire— a crop top with extremely short sleep shorts. God, you’d do anything to not be seen in your sleep clothes. A tall figure stood near you and crossed their arms, complaining about the fire alarm going off at such an hour. You looked over and to your unpleasant surprise, it was Calum. Oh, great, he happened to live in your apartment building. Absolutely splendid.

“Oh, hey, Y/N, looks like you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms to cover your exposed stomach.

“Unfortunately, Cal, I really fucking can’t get rid of you.” You were obviously annoyed. You thought you’d only have to see him when you went to the record store, but now here he was living in the same building.

He looked you up and down, liking what he saw. You crossed your arms around you tighter, despite the fact that it hid nothing. He chuckled, shaking his head, “Make sure you come back to the shop, if you wanna prove you actually have taste. You got lucky after buying that Elton John album, you gained respect from me, darling.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. The alarm turned out to be a fluke and everyone was told they could go back to their apartments. You silently went back up the stairs, trying to stop thinking about Calum’s request. Was he taunting, or did he actually want to see you? You got back into bed, not being able to think of anything else.

—

You decided to go back to the record store and prove to Calum you had good taste in music. You parked your car and made your way inside the shop, this time greeted by the sound of Lola by The Kinks and a cheerful greeting from none other than Calum.

“Hey there, neighbor! What are you looking for this time?”

Your mind thought of any album that might possibly impress Calum. Abbey Road? No, too basic. Slippery When Wet? You already owned two copies. You sighed, saying the next thing to come to your head, “Tell Me I’m Pretty?”

He went to the computer, typing it in and shaking his head, “By Cage the Elephant? Sold the last one a month ago and never restocked. Sorry, darling. Good choice, though. Even if they’re a little mainstream.”

You leaned on the counter, resting your cheek on your hand, “Why don’t you recommend me something? Since you apparently have great taste.”

He excitedly came out from behind the counter and led me to the G’s in the indie/alternative section. He pulled out a record with a boy with candle sticks on each of his fingers on the cover. He handed it to me, smiling with pride, “This album is called This Is It by The Greeting Committee. They aren’t very popular here. They’re from Kansas City, but they’re amazing. I think you’d like them. You’ve Got Me is my favorite song on there, also Don’t Go.”

You took a look at the track list, counting the number of songs. You nodded, “Okay, I’ll listen, but only if you let me recommend you something.”

He leaned against a display, “Alright, fine. Go get something and I’ll take it home tonight and listen. It better be good.”

You grinned, handing him his choice for you and also looking through the G’s. You pulled out How To Be A Human Being by Glass Animals and handed it to him, “Youth is my favorite track, but they’re all good. Pork Soda is great, too.”

He took a look at the cover and the track list, nodding, intrigued to hear your recommendation, “How about you give me another one just for the hell of it and I give you another one?”

You nodded, and you both parted ways to go find another. You went to the T’s and picked out Tame Impala’s album Currents. Take Impala was slightly mainstream, but they were your favorite, so you took the chance of giving it to him. You met him at the counter, second guessing your choice, “I chose Currents by Tame Impala, and I recommend you listen to Let It Happen, but you might not like it because they’re sort of mainstream, so if you want I can look for another-“

He interrupted you, smiling, “I’ll listen to whatever you want me to, regardless of popularity. I got you Fleetwood Mac’s wonderful album, Rumors! I remember you mentioning you’ve never listened to them before, and I think it’s a necessity in your collection. Listen to Dreams and Gold Dust Woman.”

“You were listening? When I walked into Mr Meyer’s classroom and I asked what song he was playing? Senior year?”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Well, of course, I can’t go on with my life knowing you’ve never listened to Fleetwood Mac! That’s a sin.”

You smiled, nodding and handing him your recommendation, “Okay, I’ll listen tonight then.”

He grinned, ringing you up, “$16.12.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly confused, “Did you forget to ring up the second one? That’s really cheap for two vinyls.”

“Second one is on me. For my favorite customer.” He put it in a bag, smiling at you sincerely.

You couldn’t help but blush before uttering out a thank you and leaving to your car.

—

I lose all control whenever you're around

Darling, don't you know

Now I must admit

I wouldn't last a single day

Without you in it

You sat on your living room couch, listening to every word of every song on the first album he recommended. The song playing was his favorite on the album, You’ve Got Me, and you couldn’t blame him for calling it his favorite. It was a good song, and it was beautifully written.

Meanwhile, Calum was listening to your first recommendation. He would usually not listen to music that had this sound, but he really enjoyed it. And the fact that it came from you made him like it even more. He wasn’t confused about what he was feeling in the slightest— he made a point when he gave you that recommendation. That album has tons of love songs. He was enchanted by you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. There was something about you he just loved. Maybe it was your feisty attitude, or the fact that you made a point to prove yourself to him, but he would go into a trance when he saw you. He needed to see you now. He knew which room number was yours— you were only a few floors down. He decided to swallow his pride and go down to your room. He stood in front of your door and knocked; There was no going back now.

You answered the door, surprised to see Calum there, “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, thinking of what the hell he could say, “I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner at my place? I’m ordering takeout, and it’s no fun to have alone.” Nailed it. But now he had to pretend he didn’t just eat leftovers already.

“Um, sure, I’d like that.” You smile, slipping on your shoes that were by the door and quickly running to take the needle off of the record and put it back in the case. You then come back and close the door behind you as you exit your apartment.

He led you to his apartment, praying it wasn’t too messy. He unlocked the door and let you go in first, following behind and closing the door.

“I’m gonna order the food. If you want, you can choose a vinyl to put on.” He smiled at you, walking to the other room to talk on the phone. You looked through his collection, and it was impressive. He had every album by Joy Division on the shelf, and he also a few rare records displayed on the wall. You looked through the ones on the shelf, surprised to see a few Mac Demarco album. Calum walked back into the living room, sitting on the couch and waiting for you to choose an album.

“So, you’re a big Mac Demarco fan?”

He sat up, seeing his copy of 2 in your hands and blushing, “Uh, it’s a guilty pleasure.”

You put it on the player, moving the needle onto it and smiling at him, “I love this album.”

He smiled, patting the spot next to him, inviting you to sit beside him. You got up, taking his request and sitting beside him.

“Listen, I’m sorry for being kind of a dick that first day you came to the shop. I feel really bad.”

You shook your head, chuckling a bit, “It’s okay, Cal. Obviously you teased me because you like me.”

He blushed, “What? Where would you get that idea, I’ve never even looked at a girl!” He laughed, looking away from you and then back. He did like you. You were both silent as the sound of The Stars Keep On Calling My Name faded into My Kind of Woman. He wanted to kiss you. He needed to kiss you. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back up to your eyes, and he moved a piece of your hair out of your eyes, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. He leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips. At first, he was just gonna kiss you sweetly. Just to get the point across he liked you. That was all. But he wanted more than one little kiss. He kissed you again, harder this time. He pulled you into his lap, resting his hands on your hips as he moved his lips down to your neck. He paused, mumbling against your skin, “Is this alright, darling?”

You nodded, desperate for his touch. He then continued the action, peppering kisses here and there.

He came back up to look at you, singing the words of the song to you dramatically, “You’re making me crazy, really driving me mad!”

You giggled, blushing as he took your face in his hand, kissing you deeply.

He fiddled with the button on your jeans, looking up at you for permission. You nodded, and he pulled them off of you. You sat up, pulling your shirt off and throwing it across the room. He looked at you in awe, undoing his belt. His knee made its way between your legs, spreading them apart. He smiled, twirling a piece of your hair around his finger, “You’re so pretty, baby. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You blushed, shaking your head and looking away, “No no, not the prettiest.”

He frowned, putting his lips to your ear, “Let me make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world, yeah? Can you let me do that?”

You nodded, and he hooked his fingers onto your panties and pulled them off. He slowly pushed into you, allowing you to adjust to him. Your breath got quicker and heavier, and you gripped his shoulder, digging your nails into his skin. You couldn’t get any real words out, only moans.

He buried his face into your shoulder, gripping your waist with one hand to keep you in place, “You’re doing so good, darling. Taking me so well, aren’t you?” His lips met yours once more, kissing you sweetly and pulling back away.

You took his free hand by his wrist, placing his hand on your collarbones, hinting at something you wanted.

It took no time for him to understand, and he applied slight pressure to your neck. Finally, someone who actually knew how to choke. You gripped his wrist tighter, whimpering as he began to move faster inside of you.

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess? Are you ready?”

You nodded, feeling a pit in your stomach. Your walls clenched around him, and before you knew it, you came undone. You opened your eyes slowly, trying to catch your breath.

“You alright, darling? You did so good for me.” He ran his thumb over the marks on your neck, taking pride in what he left on your skin.

The doorbell rang, and Calum quickly put his jeans back on and throwing a blanket over top of you. He opened the door, and it was the takeout delivery. He quickly paid, telling the young guy to keep the change and closed the door.

He placed the bag on the coffee table, sitting beside you on the couch and handing you your clothes, “So… do you want the egg rolls or the dumplings?”

You were glad you fell for the dork from the record store.

Taglist!

@i-calumhood

@angelbabylu

@blahehblah

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darks-ink · 5 years

Text

What a Nice Surprise CH.7

I never know what the state of links and linebreaks on Tumblr is. Do posts with links appear in tags again? Who knows. Still haven’t got any linebreaks though so I’m making do with ---, but I would still recommend following the mirror links to AO3 or Fanfiction.net instead tbh.

First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter AO3 - FFnet

---

Danny knew, logically, that this wasn’t the best moment to go visit his parents as Phantom. It was the middle of the week, after all, just after school. He should be working on his homework, or patrolling the city, or something. Not this. Definitely not this.

He rang the doorbell anyway.

The door swung open, his dad’s head poking out. “Phantom?” he asked, uncertainly.

“Hey Jack.” Danny twitched his spectral tail, even if the man couldn’t see it – he was invisible, after all. “I promised I would drop by, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Jack stepped back and opened the door further, a clear sign for Danny to enter. “Not as busy anymore?”

“Nope.” He let the invisibility leech away now that the door was closed. “But I also used this time to prepare something neat for today.”

“Really now?” His dad looked intrigued, wandering further into the house and towards the kitchen. “Well, I assume you won’t tell me unless Mads is around to hear it as well.” Danny nodded, and he continued. “Down to the lab we go, then.”

“Hold on one moment,” Maddie said as they entered the lab. Something in her hands clicked – a part in the machine finding its place – and she nodded appreciatively. Then she turned around to face Danny and Jack. “Phantom, I hope you’ve been well?”

“Uh.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck, unsure. “I mean, yeah? No worse than usual, I guess. But, um. I arranged some things for today, if you’re interested.”

“Oh?” She pulled her goggles up, a spark of interest in her eyes. “Are we meeting more of your allies, then? I thought none of them left the Ghost Zone?”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I, uh. If you’re okay with going in the Zone, I arranged that you could go meet some of my more established allies. Frostbite and his yetis in the Far Frozen, and Queen Dorathea in the Kingdom of Aragon, although we probably won’t get around to that today.”

“I don’t know, Phantom. We’ve never been in the Ghost Zone before.” Maddie frowned. “The Specter Speeder should be ready, but…”

“But won’t this be one of your best shots?” Danny continued after she’d trailed off. “It won’t get much safer than if I’m by your side protecting you, right? Plus I know how to navigate the Zone, so there’s no risk of you getting lost.”

“He’s got a point, Mads.” Jack looked rather excited at the prospect. Danny wouldn’t be surprised if the man had been eager to explore the Zone even before now. “Plus, isn’t this why we built the Portal in the first place? To explore the world of the ghosts, and the ones that live there?”

Maddie hummed, thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Both of you.” She shook her head, then folded her hands together, looking much more determined. “We’ll check the Specter Speeder over once more just to be sure, and then we’ll grab some supplies. Phantom, do you need to warn your allies beforehand?”

“Nah.” He flapped a hand in her direction. “Frostbite knows I’m coming, plus he and his people are open to me visiting whenever.”

“Those were the guys that worship you, right? Does Frostbite do so as well?” Jack had lumbered over to the Specter Speeder, opening the machine to look at the internal mechanisms. Sometimes Danny admired his parents’ ability to multitask – it seemed pretty useful.

“Kinda, yeah.” Danny shrugged, floating over to peek into the Specter Speeder. None of the machinery made sense to him, however, so he wasn’t sure if he could offer to help. “He’s gotten a lot easier about it, thankfully. Still insists on calling me ‘Great One’, though.”

Maddie sidled up next to Jack, also eyeing up the Specter Speeder’s… engine, maybe? “And that was because you defeated Pariah Dark, right? Does that affect your relationship with him in any way, you think?”

“Maybe at first, but that wore off quick, I think.” Danny swung himself upside down to attempt to decipher the complicated mess of electronics and machinery. “Working on my ice powers with him made him see me more like, well, me. My status just made sure I had a good enough first impression to get that far, I guess.”

She nodded. Then both of the adults stepped back, closing the panel on the Specter Speeder. “Well, looks like it should be fine. I’ll grab some supplies from the Vault. Jack, Phantom, can you collect the things here in the lab?”

“Of course honey,” Jack said, and Danny stuck up his thumb in her direction. Maddie nodded, seemingly pleased, and left for the Vault.

Once she was gone, Danny turned to his dad. “So, uh. I’m guessing you know what we need to take along to the Zone?”

Jack blinked. Then again. “Oh. Oh, right. Sorry, Phantom. I guess you’ve become such a normal sight around here that I forgot how recent that change was.”

“It’s fine.” Danny shrugged, then looped around so he hung in front of his dad. “So… supplies?”

He nodded. “Most of it is in the Vault, so we’ll just need some of the basic stuff. Fenton Phones, medical supplies, snacks…”

“I’ve got a pair of Fenton Phones myself, so we just need two more pairs for you two.” Danny let his eyes wander through the lab, but the gadgets were too small to pick out in the mess. “If you can point me in the right direction I can get those, and you can focus on the food.”

“Good man,” Jack complimented with a grin. He gestured to a large table close to the Portal – loaded with half-finished inventions, of course. “They should be on that table, since that’s where we store everything we’re not actively working on. Well, besides the stuff in the Vault, of course. Are you sure you’ll be fine? Most of it is anti-ghost, you know?”

“I’ll be fine.” Danny shot his dad a comforting smile. It wasn’t like this would be much more dangerous than cleaning the lab, and he did that on regular basis. Not as often as his parents would’ve liked, but still. “If I can handle it while it’s being wielded by ghost hunters, I’m sure I can deal with the inactive ones lying on a table.”

His dad barked out a surprised laugh, then nodded. “Alright, fair enough. I’ll go grab the food then. If you run into trouble, shout.”

“I will,” Danny assured him, floating over to the table in question.

Thankfully, the Fenton Phones ended up being easy to find. While carefully pushing aside a deactivated Ghost Catcher (you could never be too careful with those) Danny accidentally knocked over a stack of other inventions. And underneath those were the Fenton Phones! And none of the inventions had really fallen, either – Danny had managed to catch them all using his telekinesis.

After somewhat carefully putting everything else back into place, Danny floated back to the Specter Speeder. The four Fenton Phones – two pairs of them – were held carefully in his hand. With his other, he unzipped the pocket he carried his own pair in, not that he’d ever used them.

When he took them, he had hoped to maybe link them to Valerie’s suit. If they ever made a permanent alliance, it would be good to be able to communicate on the field. Or if another invasion happened, of course.

This, however. This was better, actually.

His parents might be a strange choice for allies, but dang if they didn’t make good ones.

“Did you find them alright?” Jack asked when he wandered back over. His arms were loaded full of snacks – mostly unhealthy foods, of course. It was a good thing that they didn’t plan on staying long – worst came to worst, Danny could ask Frostbite for human-safe food.

Danny opened his hand to show his dad the earpieces. The shiny metal shone against his white glove, the ecto-green accents matching his eyes. It was a funny coincidence, he thought, that the accident turned his eyes the exact color of ectoplasm.

“Good, good.” Jack stepped forward to open the Specter Speeder’s door, but seemed to be struggling. Danny floated past him and reached to open it instead. “Oh, thanks, kid.”

“No prob.” Danny floated in after his dad, glancing around the cabin. He’d been in the Speeder before, of course – his dad had accidentally pushed him in when he first met Walker. It was how he knew that the Speeder worked and would be safe in the first place – it wasn’t like he had ever brought anyone else to Zone before, after all. “What else do we need? Medical supplies, right?”

Jack nodded, opening a kit that was mounted to the wall. “Yeah, but this one is stocked well enough. We should be fine with just this.”

“And if anything happens, Frostbite has medical facilities as well.” And a good thing too. Danny didn’t like to think about what could’ve happened if he had truly overloaded his ghost form with his newly emerging ice powers, back during Undergrowth’s invasion.

“Really?” His dad looked intrigued, eyes bright and wide. “I suppose it makes sense – we’ve seen that you can get injured beyond what your enhanced healing can take care of. I just figured that it was because you were more human in structure.” Then he refocused, growing a little more serious. “Still, though, just because they have medics of their own doesn’t mean we can sit back. Ghost medicine won’t work on humans, most likely.”

“Nah, any ghost can get injured if you try hard enough.” Danny shrugged. “That aside, if my anatomy is so similar to that of a human, why wouldn’t Frostbite’s people know how to treat the living as well?”

“I suppose you have a point,” Jack acknowledged with a tilt of his head. “And they might’ve preserved information from when they were among the living as well, I guess. Or otherwise had an interest and studied it.”

An interest which definitely didn’t come from the fact that their great savior was half human, no sirree!

Before he could say anything, however, his mom appeared in the door of the Specter Speeder.

“There you two are,” she said, looking over the pile of food with a mild grimace. “Did you get everything?”

“Yeah we did!” Jack grinned, clearly not noticing Maddie’s less-than-stellar opinion of his food choices. “You got everything from the Vault as well, Mads?”

She nodded, handing him several ecto-guns, complete with holsters. Then she turned to Danny and, to his surprise, handed him another Thermos.

Seeing his surprise, she explained. “I’m not sure how well it’ll work in the Ghost Zone, but I felt uncomfortable not bringing any weaponry for you as well.”

“Oh, well, um. Thanks.” Danny clipped it to his belt, in the spot where he normally carried his replacement Thermos. He had, admittedly, left it behind for this trip – he didn’t like to use the Thermos in the Zone because that’s where he dumped the ghosts anyway.

“We’re all ready to go, then?” Jack asked, glancing between Danny and Maddie. “We have everything we need?”

“Well, we definitely have everything we need. Phantom?” His mom looked over to him as well.

Danny smirked. “Well, I kinda don’t need anything to go into the Ghost Zone? So yeah, I’m good as well.”

She blinked, once, and then nodded with sudden understanding. “Oh, right. Yes, of course. Lead the way, Phantom.”

“First, these.” He floated closer, handing both of his parents the Fenton Phones. “I don’t know how much sound the walls of the Speeder block, and I don’t want to have to phase through to talk.”

They took the earphones and put them in, while Danny did the same. “You raise a good point, kid,” Jack said once they all lowered their hands again. “Wouldn’t want to have to travel in silence the whole way. Unless it’s not far from our Portal?”

“Eh.” Danny wiggled his hand. “Distance in the Zone is weird. Obviously I’m not a good judge since I don’t know how quickly I fly at any given moment, but I know that some places I can fly to within minutes and other times they’re like an hours flight away.”

He flew through the still-open door and closed it behind him. Hovering between the Speeder and the Portal itself, he continued speaking. “That having been said, the Far Frozen is very true to both parts of its name. You don’t have to worry about the cold much, since we can meet Frostbite inside where it’s warmer, but, well. It’s still pretty far.”

“Well, at least we’ll have plenty of time to enjoy the scenery?” Jack suggested, voice a mingling of excitement and uncertainty. “Hang on, Phantom, we’ll open the Portal doors from inside the Speeder.”

Danny nodded, hovering in front of the enormous yellow-and-black doors. Moments later they groaned open, thick metal sliding into the arch around it.

He remembered being afraid of the Portal, at first. The accident had changed him, he’d been hurt and alone and terrified. And it was all the fault of the Portal. His own too, of course, for messing with the machine in the first place. But most of all it was the Portal’s.

It had taken him forever to get over it, really. Every time he had gone in the lab, it just lurked there. It was so big, and his parents refused to distance themselves from it, so Danny kept having to come close. And then one day his dad accidentally pushed him through it-

The Ghost Zone was enormous and green and simultaneously everything Danny had been expecting and nothing like it. And knowing what laid behind the frame, that entering the Zone was nothing like his accident, that helped. Approaching the Portal was still scary, at first, but it got easier over time.

Visiting the Zone with friends, or to visit friends, that helped too. Promising to meet Sidney and sight-see. Going to help other ghosts in the Zone. That kinda thing.

Flying through the Portal felt refreshing. Its surface was cool to the touch, barely tangible regardless of form and tangibility. But the Ghost Zone behind it, and its enormous amount of free-floating ectoplasm, was like a pick-me-up for his ghost form. A booster shot of energy.

The Specter Speeder glid through the Portal as well, closely behind Danny. For a moment he stopped to watch it, in awe of his parents’ skill at engineering despite himself. Seeing it from the outside was way different than the one time he had rode it.

“Phantom, are we okay to go?” his mom asked him via the Fenton Phones, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” He cleared his throat and looked away, hiding the blush that crept onto his face. “I’ll, uh, start flying in the right direction.”

He angled himself in the right direction, merged his legs into a spectral tail, and flew off. He tempered his speed at first, unsure of how fast the Speeder could go. That, and he could keep a closer eye on his environment at lower speeds. Danny knew he could fly to the Far Frozen blind – it was the other ghosts he was worried about.

They flew on in silence for a while. Danny raised his speed, little by little, until the Speeder could no longer match it. His parents, he assumed, were busy watching the Zone. It was their first time visiting it, at least. And, as far as they knew, it was the first time a living human had visited the Ghost Zone.

Danny wouldn’t tell them that Valerie been here. Multiple times, even. It would only ruin their fun.

“Say, Phantom, don’t you ever get cold?” Jack asked out of the blue after more than 30 minutes of silence. Danny, startled, jerked off course and only barely dodged a floating rock.

“What?” he replied as he tried to calm down from his start. “No, I mean, not really. Why?”

“Well,” a scuffing sound, like Jack was scraping his foot over the floor of the Speeder, “You mentioned how cold the Far Frozen was earlier. And while most ghosts seem immune to temperatures, we know that you’re warmer than most.”

“Oh.” Well, he supposed his dad had a point. “Um, not really? Sometimes in the past it could get a little nippy if it was very cold, but now that I have ice powers I’m basically immune to extreme temperatures.” Danny shrugged, looking over his shoulder at the Speeder. “Plus my suit does a pretty adequate job of keeping me warm.”

“It is a pretty neat suit.” Danny could see his dad shift inside the cabin of the Speeder. “You’re a man of taste, Phantom, wearing jumpsuits just like we do!”

“I mean, um.” Danny glanced away, blush crawling onto his cheeks again. “I, uh. I didn’t make the conscious decision to wear it, per se.”

“Oh?” It was his mom, now. “Don’t all ghosts pick their clothing on their own? How else did you come to wear a jumpsuit?”

“Well, you see.” Danny floated closer to the Speeder, still leading it in the right direction. “I kind of, um. Died wearing it?”

A moment of silence. A long moment of silence. Then–

“Oh.” Jack cleared his throat. “I see. That’s um. Unfortunate.”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, I wasn’t a big fan of it at first either. I, uh. Used to say I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them.”

“Phantom,” his mom chastised, her tone tired. “Are you really making jokes about your death?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” He locked eyes with her through the window, offering a shrug. “Mope about it? It’s not like it’ll get better. Might as well live with it, for as far as you can call it ‘living’, you know? ‘s better than being sad about it.”

She sighed, weary. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. It’s just…”

“Death is a difficult topic,” Danny finished for her. “I know. Believe me, I do. But you can’t get hung up on it forever, you know? It’s a thing that happens for everyone, eventually.”

“But you’re just a kid,” Jack said, voice also heavy with sadness. “You’re our son’s age, Phantom, and you died wearing a hazmat suit. I know you don’t like talking about your death, but…”

“It wasn’t natural, no.” Danny phased through the windscreen of the Speeder, startling both of his parents. “Sorry, this was easier for the conversation. Just, uh, keep heading in the direction we were going.”

His parents shared a glance. A few quick ones, actually, making Danny think it was an entire silent conversation. Then, finally, his mom spoke up again.

“But you still didn’t tell anybody?”

He huffed out a breath. “No. It was nobody’s fault but my own, and no one else was hurt. No more than they’ll be if they know the entire truth, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Jack’s voice was quieter than usual, but in the silence of the cabin it still carried. “But we can’t force you to do anything, Phantom. Just… think about it? About telling your parents?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, humorlessly. “I think about it pretty often, to be honest. It’s just…” He combed his fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. “It would hurt them more than help them. At least for now. Maybe… Maybe later. When things are better.”

“But what if things never get better?” His mom’s hand wrapped around his upper arm, warm and comforting. “What is better, anyway? What amount of improvement would be enough?”

“I don’t– I don’t know,” Danny admitted, shoulders slumping down. “I can’t tell them, though. Not yet.”

“As long as you really do plan on telling them, kid.” Jack’s massive hand wrapped around his shoulders, pulling Danny against his side. “Your parents deserve to know the truth.”

“I know,” Danny said before his dad had really stopped talking. The man smiled, but continued anyway.

“They deserve to know how wonderful their son really is. How much good he does, even now.”

Danny nodded, ducking his head to hide the smile that had crept onto his face. “I… I’ll think about it, okay? But, um.” He looked up, out of the window, straight at a giant rock in front of the Specter Speeder.

“Shit,” he swore, automatically lifting higher in the air even though there was nothing he could do anymore. They were going too fast, couldn’t dodge or turn intangible–

The Speeder careened through the rock like it didn’t even exist. Danny barely missed it, but his dad went straight through it.

In front of them empty green sky hung. Danny looked back to see the last of the rock phase through the Specter Speeder, stunned. His dad, next to him, look at his hands with wide-eyed amazement.

“Phantom, no swearing,” his mom scolded belatedly, like she had only just realized what he’d said. Then, “What on Earth was that?”

“Well, not Earth,” Danny said before he could really think about it. “I think… that humans can turn themselves intangible in the Ghost Zone, to ectoplasm-based materials at least. But I’m not sure how the Speeder did it, here.”

“Do you think we could’ve turned it intangible?” Jack offered, brow creased in thought. “Like how you could turn us intangible in the human world?”

“Maybe.” Danny glanced out the window to make sure they weren’t about to hit anything else. “But you should hold off on testing that theory until we get to the Far Frozen, at least, just in case it doesn’t work.”

Jack barked out a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

“Maybe it would be for the best if you went ahead again, Phantom.” Maddie’s hands were still clawed around the controls. Danny was sure that her hands were white-knuckled beneath her gloves. “Just to avoid a repeat performance.”

Danny nodded, phasing through the front of the Speeder. “At least we can still keep up the conversation. Your Fenton Phones work really well.”

“We should test them more while we’re here,” Jack suggested. “Maybe the tech behind them could be used for those phones the other ghosts were talking about a while back.”

Caught off-guard, Danny glanced over his shoulder back at his dad. “Huh?”

“Well, our Fenton Phones work in the Zone, right?” his dad started explaining. “So if they work over longer distances, or even while one is here and the other is in our world, then that technology could be used to help with that phone network the biker ghosts were talking about before, yeah?”

“I– Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” If they really did work, then Danny might even be able to improve his relationship with Technus a little. Helping with this would be a sure-fire way of winning the ghost’s favor – or at least keeping him out of Amity for a little longer. “If you’re okay with me sharing the tech like that, that would be really helpful, yeah.”

“Wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t okay,” Jack said, an amused tone to his voice. “Seriously, Phantom, we really do want to help in whatever way possible.”

“I know, I know. I’m just…” Danny twitched his spectral tail, uncertain. “Just not used to it, I guess. Even my allies who want to help just can’t. There’s not much they can do for me, besides offer me their company.”

He looked ahead, spotting the enormous mountains of the Far Frozen. “And speaking of which, we’re nearly there. You probably can’t see it yet, but soon you should be able to see the tunnel we’ll use to enter.”

“Why a tunnel?” his mom asked, a hint of worry in her voice. “Isn’t it an island like everything else seems to be?”

“Well, most lairs are actually sub-dimensions that you can only access via doors.” Danny slowed a little as they approached the tunnel, which should now be visible to his parents as well. “But yeah, the Far Frozen is an island as well. The correct way to approach is via the tunnel – it’s so they can protect their realm more easily.”

“Like a bottleneck in case they’re attacked?” The Speeder slowed down as well, Maddie clearly eyeing up the tunnel. “That might be a narrow fit, Phantom.”

“We might have to try the intangibility thing.” He stopped to float over the opening, glancing between it and the Speeder. “Worst come to worst we can leave it here and I’ll carry you to the palace. Frostbite can set guards on it to make sure no ghost messes with it.”

The Specter Speeder lowered closer to the tunnel entrance. Danny could see his parents sitting behind the window, worried expressions on their faces. Maddie, especially, had a crease in her brow that suggested extreme focus.

“I’ll go just ahead,” Danny offered, dipping into the tunnel. “To make sure the guards won’t worry.”

“Copy that, Phantom,” his dad replied, seeing that Maddie wouldn’t. “We’ll follow at our own pace.”

The crawl through the tunnels was slow, but steady. As it turned out, they’d gotten lucky; the tunnel was just big enough to fit the Specter Speeder.

One of the guards stationed at the end of the tunnel glanced between Danny and the Speeder, warily. He waved a greeting at her, however, offering an understanding smile. “It’s fine, Frostbite knew they were coming.”

“Great One,” she replied with a short bow. “Very well, although I wish he had informed us as well.”

“We didn’t exactly pick a specific moment.” He shrugged, still smiling somewhat sheepishly. “Sorry. I’ll try to give more of a warning next time.”

“It’s much appreciated.” She stepped aside, nodding towards the Fentons in the Specter Speeder. “Carry on, you three. Enjoy your stay in the Far Frozen.”

“Thanks.” Danny waved at her before flying off. He moderated his speed even though most ghosts in the Far Frozen didn’t fly – it just seemed more polite. Knowing that his parents were probably still listening, he said, “I’ll bring us right to the front steps of Frostbite’s palace. The Speeder will be fine there, unless it can’t handle the cold for extended periods of time?” Hmm, he should’ve considered that possibility before. There was probably a better place to park it if that was the case.

“It should be fine with the cold,” his dad assured him before he could worry too much. “But will it be fine parked out in the open like that?”

“None of the ghosts will mess with it, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Danny slowed as he approached the palace, coming to a stop in front of the massive sprawling structure – made entirely out of ice, of course. “You’re with me, and I’m the ‘Great One’, remember? So they’ll leave it alone.”

“If you’re sure.” His dad more or less mumbled the reply, clearly worried about the machine. For all that he tried to change, the man clearly still struggled to trust ghosts, especially ones he didn’t know. That, and he was just very protective of things he considered his own.

Danny would’ve been annoyed, except that his dad clearly trusted him, trusted his judgment enough to leave it be.

The Specter Speeder came to a halt as well, lowering until it gently landed in the snow. It then promptly sunk another 3 inches before actually settling down.

Danny was already floating over to the door when it opened, his mom standing in the opening. “It certainly does honor to its name.” She looked around, at the town made entirely out of ice and the ghosts that were peeking outside, just as curious of them as they were of the ghosts. “And it’s so different from the rest of the Zone.”

“Everything else was just green and purple, but this place is almost entirely white and blue.” His dad was looking around as well, wide-eyed but grinning. “It’s incredible.”

“I thank you very much.” Both Fentons whirled around, startled, at the unexpected voice. Danny just grinned at the yeti who had just exited the palace.

“Frostbite! These are Jack and Maddie Fenton, the ghost hunters I told you I would bring by.” He turned to face his parents again. “Jack, Maddie, this is Frostbite, leader of the Far Frozen.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Maddie stepped forward first, uncertainly offering her hand. She was clearly eyeing up Frostbite – and Danny couldn’t blame them. He cut an imposing figure, large and muscular with an enormous amount of fur that made him look even bigger. The icy horns on his head and toothy muzzle didn’t help. Neither did the false left arm, composed only of bone with ice surrounding it.

Frostbite took her hand – with his right hand, thankfully – and shook it. “A pleasure to meet you as well, Huntress. And you too, Hunter,” he added as he shook Jack’s hand as well. “The Great One has spoken well of your skills, even before your current alliance.”

“Frostbite,” Danny whined, leaning on the ghost’s shoulder. “Can’t you just call me by my name for once?”

“No, I cannot.” He grinned, frustratingly, knowing exactly how much Danny disliked the title. Then he turned back to the Fentons. “Come, let us go inside. I’m sure you two are cold out here.”

“Yeah, kinda.” Jack eagerly followed the ghost, and Maddie trailed behind them. Danny matched her pace, floating alongside.

“You okay?” he asked, a little worried. Jack had enough flesh to weather the cold a little while. His mom, however, had far less protection. And Danny didn’t know how well the jumpsuit would protect her – how cold it really was in the Far Frozen.

“I’m fine Phantom, no worries.” She smiled at him, then turned to look at the palace they were entering. “It’s just a little… overwhelming. No, not overwhelming. Humbling is a better word.”

“How so?” He flipped onto his side so he could watch her more easily.

“All this time, we’ve insisted that ghosts were dumb, unintelligent, inhuman.” She looked away, shoulders tense. “That they were incapable of the depth that humans have. Yet the proof was right here, all this time. If we had just gone through the Portal, we could’ve seen how wrong we were. But we had to wait until you almost died at our feet before we noticed.”

“Well, everyone makes mistakes.” Danny shrugged when she looked back at him, slightly incredulous. “It’s part of being… uh. I was gonna say human but that doesn’t entirely work. Existing? It’s part of existing. You make mistakes, you learn from them, and then you do better.”

He threw out a hand, demonstratively. “And that’s this. You’re here, both of you, following a ghost to meet another ghost you had never even heard of.”

She huffed out a short breath. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. But I can’t help but think…”

“Don’t,” he insisted, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Mo– Maddie, there’s no changing the past. Thinking about how things could have gone won’t make things better. Focus on the here and the now, and stop worrying, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” She smiled at him, still a little shaky but clearly real. “Thanks, Phantom. I think I needed to hear that.”

“It’s no problem.” He looked forward to where the huge shapes of Frostbite and his dad had stopped. “Come on, I think they’re waiting for us.”

She nodded, and they both sped up to meet up with the other two again.

---

They didn’t end up staying all that long, in the end. The flight had taken longer than they had really expected (apparently Danny really did fly significantly faster than the Speeder) and his parents were unsure about staying too long in the Ghost Zone. After all, little was known about the Ghost Zone or its effects on humans.

Danny had tried to reassure them, that it would do no harm, but their minds had been made. They had thanked Frostbite for his hospitality – and for teaching them more about ghosts – and left.

But despite the shorter-than-expected stay, the visit had gone well. Despite Frostbite’s uncertainty beforehand, when Danny had suggested the visit, he showed no fear towards the Fentons. Not that Danny had expected him to – Frostbite was a leader, and could very easily put on a brave face. Even if he was worried that he would accidentally spill the Great One’s secret.

He had been cajoled into teaching the Fentons more about ghostly anatomy, however. When he had mentioned their medical facilities the Fentons had shown clear interest and asked more. And while Frostbite had been initially unsure, they told him that they mostly wanted to know so they could help ‘the Great One’ if he got hurt, and, well… That was all they needed to say, apparently.

Still, Danny couldn’t really be mad. His parents did intend to use it to help him. He didn’t hope it would be necessary, but even so. The gesture was very nice.

The three of them agreed that he would return another time for the next visit to the Ghost Zone. After all, he had promised to introduce them to Queen Dorathea as well, and they hadn’t gotten around to that quite yet.

---

The Specter Speeder hovered just above the floor of the lab. Its metal walls shone under the bright artificial light, its green lights blinking energetically. The door hung open, Maddie standing in its opening to peer inside the vehicle.

“I think we have everything,” she said, not turning around to face Danny and Jack. “Phantom, the Kingdom wasn’t as uninhabitable as the Far Frozen, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Less unified and still kind of medieval, but it’s not freezing cold or anything, at least.”

“Good, good.” She turned around. “In that case we should be…” she trailed off, clearly hearing the same footsteps as Danny.

Jazz walked into the lab, starting when she locked eyes with Danny. “Oh, Phantom! Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

“We were just leaving,” Danny said with a shrug, looking over at the Speeder. Jazz followed his gaze with a slight frown.

“With the Specter Speeder?” She turned to their parents. “I thought you guys only wanted to use that in the Ghost Zone?”

“Which is where we’re going!” Jack grinned, bright and wide. “Earlier this week Phantom took us to meet one of his allies in the Zone, and today we’re meeting another one! Dora, right?”

“Queen Dorathea of Aragon, yeah.” Danny ran a hand through his hair. “She doesn’t stand on titles much, but not using it when you’re first meeting her might annoy her. And uh, I can recommend avoiding that.”

“How so?” Jazz asked, looking intrigued. “And is she really a queen, or is that just a general title?”

“Well, Dora has this necklace which turns her into a dragon when she gets angry,” Danny started explaining, smiling slightly at the incredulous expressions of his family. “A really big fire-breathing dragon, yeah. Her brother had one as well, so that’s why she didn’t use it to overthrow him. But the Red Huntress and I convinced her that she was a better ruler and didn’t have to live in Aragon’s shadow, and she fought him. In the end, Red and I barely had to do anything – Dora was strong enough to deal with Aragon herself.”

“So this Dora… What’s the story between her and her brother, exactly?” Jazz looked surprising thoughtful. Oh, duh, of course. She had spotted another target to psycho-analyze, probably.

Which, actually… might be kind of good for Dora. At the very least she could meet another girl without having to worry about the whole rank thing getting in the way.

“Well, her brother used to be the king of their kingdom. Only he wasn’t a very good ruler – he insisted that things stay the way they had always been, was opposed to all change and such. He forcibly kept the entire kingdom in the Middle Ages, with all the things that came with it. Bad living situations, inequality for the women, and all that. Dora, especially, was more his servant than his sister. She had to listen to his every command, wasn’t allowed to stand for herself or do things she enjoyed. She wasn’t even allowed to have an opinion of her own.”

He shifted, pausing for a moment to let the story sink in. “It lasted for several centuries. Then Aragon decided that to really be a king, he needed a queen. But he didn’t just want any queen, he wanted the best queen. He wanted one no other ghost had – a living queen. So he instructed Dora to kidnap one from the human realm, with the specific instruction that it had to be one that I seemed to favor, since I was a strong powerful ghost and all that.”

Danny shrugged, scratching his cheek for a moment. “Of course, I don’t spend a whole lot of time around human girls, so. She ended up grabbing the Red Huntress. By the time I heard what had happened and made my way over, Red had already almost convinced Dora to stand up for herself. I helped convince her as well, and then Dora overthrew her brother, took his dragon-necklace, and locked him up in prison. She’s been ruling the Kingdom ever since.”

Jazz nodded, a determined expression settling on her face. “Sounds like she could use someone to talk to. Mind if I join you three?”

“Fine with me.” He looked at Maddie and Jack. “But she’s your kid, so it’s your call.”

The two of them shared a few glances. They were clearly caught between enthusiasm that their kid was showing an interest in ghosts, and worrying that the Ghost Zone wouldn’t be safe for her. Finally Maddie nodded, first at him and then at Jazz.

“You said that it’ll be safe, Phantom, and I trust you. Yes, Jazz, you can come along if you want.”

Grinning, Jazz strode towards the Speeder. Then she paused. Turned around. “So, uh. Do I need to bring anything to stay safe, or…?”

Danny snorted, accidentally drawing everyone’s attention back to him. He flapped a dismissive hand towards Jazz. “No, no, the Zone is perfectly safe. Your parents spent several hours in the Far Frozen earlier this week and the only thing that threatened them was the cold. Dora’s castle, unlike Frostbite’s, isn’t made out of ice, so you’ll be fine.”

“Take these though,” Maddie said, handing Jazz two Fenton Phones. Where she got them from, Danny didn’t know. But then, to be fair, his mom had a lot of stuff in her belt. “We’re all wearing them so we can talk more easily. Phantom will fly outside the Speeder to guide us, and this way we won’t have to shout.”

“And we won’t hit a rock because we were too busy talking to watch the road,” Danny joked, grinning. “Go and hop on before Dora gets impatient.”

“Actually, Phantom, why don’t you go ahead?” Jack stopped in the door of the Speeder to look at him. “We forgot to test the inter-dimensional range of the Fenton Phones last time, but we can try them now.”

“Oh, that’s actually… a pretty good idea.” Danny floated over to the Portal, then turned back to his family. “Can you, uh, open the Portal doors, then?”

“Right, right.” His dad ducked into the Speeder, and with a groan the Portal doors slid open. “We’ll be right behind you even if the Phones don’t work, okay kid?”

Danny nodded, then realized none of them could see him. “Uh, yeah, alright. See you guys in a minute.”

He dove through the Portal, replacing the artificial white of the lab for strangely-comforting green. Turning around to face the open Portal, he hesitantly spoke up. “So, uh. Are you guys hearing this?”

“Loud and clear,” his dad’s voice replied. The sound carried just as well as it had before, when they had all been in the Ghost Zone. “Try flying a little further from the Portal.”

Doing as asked, Danny flew about a hundred feet away and landed on a rock. “How about now?”

“Still good,” his mom confirmed, her voice ringing clear as well. “We’ll come through now. How far did you go?”

Seeing the Specter Speeder enter the Zone, Danny lifted up from the rock to catch their eye. “A hundred feet or so. We’re heading this way, anyway.”

The Speeder made its way over to where Danny floated, although he sped away before they reached him. “It’s not as far as the Far Frozen, but still 30 minutes flying or so, I think. Like I said last time, distances are weird in the Zone.”

“You’re also just bad at judging them,” Maddie said, her tone light and joking. “Since you base everything off of how fast you fly, despite not knowing how fast that is.”

Danny gasped, offended, and clasped a hand to his chest. “How dare you! I, the Great One, Sir Phantom, am obviously the best at everything I ever do.”

Jazz snorted, and both of his parents chuckled.

“That’s a lot of titles, kid,” his dad commented in-between chuckles.

“Yeah, I keep getting them for some reason.” Danny looked in front of him to make sure he didn’t hit any floating rocks. “Maybe it’s because I keep befriending powerful ghosts in leadership roles.”

“You think?” Jazz asked with that perfect ‘sarcastic sister’ voice he was so familiar with.

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Nah, probably not. Must be something else.”

After that the conversation more or less petered off. When Danny glanced over his shoulder he could see Jazz peering into the depths of the Ghost Zone, apparently captivated by her first visit. His parents, admittedly, weren’t much better.

But then again, neither had he. Maybe he shouldn’t have blamed his interest in the Zone on being part ghost. Maybe it was just part of being a Fenton. Who would’ve thought?

Eventually they reached the Kingdom of Aragon. Dora’s castle had been visible for a while, the rest of the island more mundane.

“So the good news is that we can just fly to the island this time,” he said, breaking the silence.

“What’s the bad news?” his mom asked, wary.

“There is no bad news.” Danny turned around mid-air to shoot her a grin. “We can just fly straight to the castle since I’m with you guys.”

“You’re a dork,” Jazz muttered under her breath. Through the window Danny could see her clamp her hands over her mouth as she realized he could hear her through the Fenton Phones.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He spun back around, slowly guiding the Specter Speeder to a safe place to land. “My jokes are the best kind of dorky, after all.”

“Don’t let the jocks hear you, they would be heartbroken.”

He looked over his shoulder to see both of his parents focusing on landing the Speeder. “Maybe that would finally get Paulina to stop obsessing over me.”

“Oh god, yeah, maybe.” She hummed. “That girl has a problem, and I say that as a professional.”

“Jazz, sweetie, you’re not actually a professional yet,” their mom commented as the Speeder touched down.

“You don’t have to be to know that Paulina’s crush on Phantom is unhealthy.” She stood up from her seat, stretching her arms over her head. “Man, these seats aren’t great for longer travels.”

“No, we definitely didn’t anticipate the Ghost Zone being this big.” Maddie opened the door to let Jack step out first, clearing room in the cabin for her and Jazz to move around more easily. “But I suppose that that was a silly mistake.”

“Kinda, yeah.” Danny flew over to the Speeder, hovering by the open door. “A lot of the ghosts call it the Infinite Realms, even. It’s just as never-ending as regular space, or so they say.”

Jack whistled, impressed.

Maddie and Jazz clambered out of the Speeder, joining him outside. Maddie had joined Jack in looking around wildly, but Jazz had focused her attention on the castle itself.

“We should go inside,” Danny suggested, seeing that none of them seemed inclined to move. “Unlike Frostbite, Dora probably won’t come looking for us.”

The three of them nodded, looking at him to lead the way. And with an internal shrug, Danny did.

A couple of guards stood by the castle, but they nodded at him in greeting and said nothing. His family remained silent, simply following him over the bridge and into the castle.

“Not as chatty as those yetis in the Far Frozen, huh?” Jack asked once they were inside.

“Not really, no.” Danny shrugged. “The Far Frozen are a very sociable people, and they’ve been led by Frostbite who encourages that kinda stuff. The people of Aragon are still recovering from their old ruler, so they’re stuck in their old ways still.”

They walked into the throne room, an enormous empty hall with a single raised throne set at the far wall. Sitting on it was Dora, who (literally) brightened up when she saw him. “Sir Phantom! How nice to see you again!”

She raised out of the chair, floating closer to them. Danny gave her a short bow, which his family quickly copied. “Queen Dora, it’s nice to see you as well. These are Jack, Maddie, and Jazz Fenton; the parents are the ghost hunters I mentioned, and Jazz is their daughter who asked to come along. I hope that that was okay?”

Dora smiled, her aura still steadily increasing in brightness – a clear sign of happiness. “Yes of course it is! And a pleasure to meet you three as well. Come, come, we can sit down in another room.”

The group followed Dora to another room, the parents right behind her and Jazz trailing a little further behind. Danny floated up next to her, giving her a short nudge. “Dora is pretty shy with initiating contact,” he told her with a conspiring tone. “Try introducing yourself more directly, and then I’ll offer to show your parents around the Kingdom so you two can talk in private.”

She glanced over at him. “Would that work? You know her better than I do, Phantom.”

“Definitely. Just, uh. If her eyes change color and her pupils narrow, try to calm her down.” He looked over at Dora, who was steadfastly looking straight-forward despite her obvious interest in her guests. “That’s a clear sign that she’s edging on a transformation.”

“Gotcha,” Jazz said with a nod. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“I know you will.” He looked back at her with a smile. “You’re good at this stuff, Jazz. That’s why I’m trusting you with this. I know it’ll be good for Dora.”

They entered the next room before Jazz could answer, Dora swirling around. “And here we are. Please, everyone, take a seat.”

Jazz looked over at him, and he gave her a short encouraging nod. Then she turned back to Dora, straightened her shoulders, and said, “Actually, um, Your Highness. I was wondering if we could… sit down and talk. Just the two of us, I mean.”

Dora frowned, looking between Jazz and Danny. Then she glanced over to the adult Fentons, uncertainly. “Ah, well…”

“I can take Maddie and Jack outside,” Danny offered with a smile. “I’ll show them around, since they haven’t seen much ghost society yet. It’ll be interesting, right guys?”

Maddie clearly caught on to the emphasized words. “Oh, certainly. That would be very nice actually, right Jack?” She jabbed him with her elbow.

“What? Oh, uh, yeah.” He nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that would be really interesting.”

The ghost still frowned, glancing between her various guests. Then she slumped in a little, nodding towards Danny. “Very well then. Sir Phantom, please show our guests around. Miss… Jazz? Come and have a seat.”

Danny started leading his parents away, but paused to shoot Jazz an encouraging smile. She smiled back, grasping her confidence again now that she entered more familiar territory.

Yes, this would definitely be good for both of them. Danny would definitely have to look into those phones – connecting Dora and Jazz in a more manageable way would be good for them. Maybe he could even get Sidney mixed in. The three of them all desperately needed friends.

#danny phantom #dp fanfic #phanfic #fanfiction #dp fanfiction #phanfiction #danny fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #jazz fenton #dark writes #what a nice surprise #i scream we all scream for jazz making more friends #also for tumblr being a broken friggin website send help

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spiderofthenight-blog · 6 years

Note

Can you please write a story where the reader is famous (a celebrity) and Peter is a huge fan of hers! And one day, she found her wandering around queens... the rest is up to you!

Before I get started @yandereaffections has a yandere!P.P x famous reader, so I’m sorry if this has any similarities, it was not my intention. Also I recommend you go check out their stuff, it’s all phenomenal

WARNING: there is some non-con stuff near the end so beware

So let’s say you’re an up and coming singer/songwriter and your career has been skyrocketing lately

You had the basic music artist backstory, found a passion for guitar and singing when you were small, started writing in middle school, started combining those two hobbies together soon after

For about four years you worked in your parents garage trying to get your career to lift off, and thankfully one day you did a gig at some big party and got noticed

By more than one person

While that night you did get noticed by some big hot shot company and sign up for a record label

You also got noticed by one Peter Benjamin Parker

And from the moment he heard your voice he fell in love

He didn’t get to speak to you that night but did manage to track you down on Instagram

And since then he followed your every move

He always knew where you were playing and what you were doing

Unfortunately for him all his attempts at ‘bumping into you’ in person were unsuccessful

He always seemed to miss you by a millisecond

And although it was frustrating, he kept his patience

You’d come to him when the time was right

So he stuck to commenting on every post you made on insta and tagging you in everything he put online

On one occasion you even replied to one of his comments on a post you made and he didn’t stop smiling for weeks

So let’s say it’s been about two years since he saw you perform at that party that kick-started your career and your finally going on a proper tour

Imagine Peter’s excitement when you announce the dates and you’re performing a concert not five blocks from where he lives!

So of course he bought front row tickets

When the night rolled around Peter was beside himself with nerves, he was going to see you up close and in the flesh

Possibly even talk to you if he got the chance

Peter shows up to the arena hours early, and once he’s seated he almost can’t contain his excitement

He’s overwhelmed with joy and love when you first step out on stage

Good god you’re even more beautiful in real life, the photos online are nothing compared to what he sees before him now

And of course he knew every single lyric, possibly better than you yourself

It feels like he blinked and the show was over and everyone was being asked to leave

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t cry at least once

As the herd of people is being ushered out the door he manages to sneak backstage and finds your dressing room unnoticed

You hear a knock on your dressing room door and yell to whoever is there that it’s open, that they can come in

You assumed it was probably your manager or someone similar so you got quite the fright when you saw someone you didn’t recognise walk through the door

If he was being honest with himself Peter didn’t actually think he’d get this far and any kind of speech he might’ve had prepared was lost on his tongue when he saw you, standing feet in front of him wearing a lot less clothing than he expected you to have on

He stared at you in awe as you grabbed a robe from the back of a chair and wrapped it around your perfect body

He can’t get over how gorgeous you are

‘Can I help you?’ you asked him when he didn’t say anything for a long while

‘oh , uh- hi, yeah I- I’m Peter, Peter Parker’ he managed to stutter out

‘How can I help you, Peter?’ you saying his name aloud seemed to snap him out of his nervous mindset and he suddenly found his confidence

And it showed, you could see him practically inflate, he puffed his chest out and squared his shoulders

He turned away for a brief moment and you heard the door lock before he turned back to you and smiling almost too kindly

And suddenly the buzz you had from ending a perfect performance turned into the adrenaline of how-do-I-get-out-of-this

‘Your music is phenomenal’ he spoke in a breathy voice, taking steps towards you

For each step he took towards you, you took one away from him

All the while you glanced around the room to find your phone to call for security, but his gaze found what you were looking for moments before you did and he snatched it from the tabletop before you even knew what he was doing

‘Please, sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re not allowed to be in here’ you spoke to him calmly, even though you were starting to panic

He looked at you confused, ‘but you invited me in? I knocked on the door and you told me to come in’

Of all the things he could’ve said, you certainly weren’t expecting that

During the short confrontation you hadn’t noticed Peter had managed to back you into a corner

He strolled the rest of the way to you and grabbed you around the back, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug

As you were struggling to get out of his grasp you heard him sniff your hair deeply and felt him bury his nose behind your ear, and place one hand between your shoulder blades while keeping the other on your lower back to stop your squirming

‘You played exceptionally well tonight, y/n’ he complimented while relaxing into you, your body staying tense against his fully relaxed form

‘Please let me go’ you asked him, not prepared for this situation at all

He either didn’t hear you or chose to ignore you because his grip suddenly dropped from your lower back to dip under the back of your robe and smooth over the bumps of your ass

He then picked you up just under your butt so suddenly and with such strength that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist and hold onto his shoulders

He carried you over to the desk that was covered in products, papers, and who knows what else

Peter cleared a spot to place you by shoving your stuff on the floor and as he set you down on the counter he ran a line of wet sucking kisses up your throat and ground his core straight onto yours

You finally managed to stabilise yourself enough to put your hands on his chest and shove the large man off of you

Peter, not expecting you to shove him, stumbled back so you took your chance and made a break for the door

You shook the handle before getting it unlocked and you ran down the corridor to find a member of security

Just as you were about to run into a room full of people, Peter caught up to you and grabbed you from behind, you wasted no hesitation on yelling for help and soon enough a pile of security men got Peter away from you

It took three men to hold him back

As another member of security led you away making sure you were okay you could hear peter calling out about his love for you,

about how he knew you were destined to be together

About how nothing, not even jail, could stop him from making you his

I hope you don’t mind that I changed it slightly:)

#yandere peter parker #yandere peter parker x reader #yandere #peter parker x reader

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skamremakesfromhell · 6 years

Note

I will never understand how skam italia got so popular that it somehow developed its own breed of stans outside of regular skam/Rm skam stans? Like i literally see other rm stan accounts othe twitter and tumblr complain about how obnoxious skam it stans are

so idk if you were really asking for a breakdown but i’ve been thinking about this a lot recently so im gonna ramble about it for a bit whoops

so it was always inevitable that the remakes would cause divisions within the skam fandom and i think that’s important to kept in mind. there were divisions when there was only the 1 show! the chaos of 8 was a given lol. so not only would there be people that preferred one remake over another but there was also the immediate division between fans of og who didn’t even wanna touch a remake with a 10 foot pole and og fans that were watching the remakes

so the first rounds of remakes start (skamfr, skamit, druck, and skamus) and there was a lot of excitement and disappointment happening because we were all excited for new content but simultaneously disappointed that the content wasn’t new enough. that s1 was the same exact story across them all. skam france came first and it really set the bar real low. it felt to many like a cheap copycat. it had some fun stuff here and there and the cast was doing a decent job but overall with the constant promise of “change” from the production/cast that never followed through a lot of people quickly got tired of it. by the time s1 was almost over druck and skam italia began to air and a little bit later skam austin starts. right here i think it’s important that s2 of skam france was airing for a majority of the time these others were on since s2 is the season that’s the most “either you love it or you hate it”

a number of people gave up on skamfr either not feeling it/refusing to watch s2/whatever and moved on to the other remakes. i think it’s really important to note that at this time skamit was the only version that was changing “william” in any substantial way. druck only changes at the very end and it’s only the fact that he apologized to kiki on his own but edoardo had been introducing small deliberate changes to his character throughout the season. this gained interest from both noorhelm fan and anti noorhelm people because it was new! and different! compared to the other version not changing much for this storyline and skamfr airing a basic copy of s2 this was an exciting development! it was something that intrigued more og fans

of course you have to remember that everyone thought all the remakes were gonna be terrible. they were all a lost cause from the very beginning. people that were enjoying the remakes were already having to be defensive against og fans who hated the remakes just for enjoying them. skamfr was already kinda a dud, skamus had too much hype and pressure on it since it was the one julie was working on to really live up to that, and druck was falling to the wayside from poor production decisions (going on break for a week within the first month without telling anyone ?!?? really ?!?) skamit s1 did seem to be the best produced, with some interesting character changes, and a nice aesthetic. it quickly became the one most people recommended to others. new person asks “which remake should i watch?” and the first answer would almost always be skamit. italians were all pleasantly surprised by the show which made them want to spread it even more. like “look finally some good italian television!” the actors are good and not super overdramatic! the shots are nice and pretty! everyone on the cast is so pretty! rome is so pretty!

but what made this turn into the skamit fans being their own “separate” fandom? well if you go back through all the #discourse you can see all the number of time skamit fans have had to defend the fact that they liked skamit and that in itself will limit you down to the kind of people are always on the defense. who feel like they have to talk about all the great amazing things to feel validated in liking what they like because people are out there criticizing it. who either don’t care about issues people raise or don’t want to think about it. “why can’t everyone leave us alone” “if you don’t like don’t watch” “this is how italy is and you’re the problem for not understanding that”. the casting of sana caused a lot of people to call out skamit and condemn it as “problematic” and/or refuse to watch it before it even aired. now i believe those people are well within their right to do that. if something like this about a show upsets you you don’t owe it to anybody to watch it. but what this caused was people that wanted to watch skamit/enjoyed it felt the need to dismiss the issues raised by other people in the fandom. this is because 1) people were attacking them for liking skamit and 2) it’s become the culture of fandoms to demand you only enjoy things that meet an incredibly high moral ground and you have to constantly prove that the media you enjoy does that. which is such a disservice to being media literate honestly. and this kept happening. the racist, fatphobic comments, the excuse from the production about sana’s casting, the lack of any minority actors, the excluding of mahdi’s characters, the n-word being used and the mess that was the response from the cast and crew

it was one after another of things that made a number of people decided to not be a fan of skamit anymore and once they’d decided that any new thing that came out just proved to them that they were right! that skamit was racist and they were right for dropping it! but that doesn’t just end there because then it becomes anyone that supports skamit is racist and doesn’t deserve respect. and while all this is happening as every new thing happens and we all argue again about who is the most “morally superior” the fans of skamit are stepping on the toes of anyone that dares to criticize the show. they are defensive because they feel like their character is being attacked. because they feel like they have to be. and so ideologies are clashing all over the place over what is and isn’t racist, what’s good representation, what’s the importance of representation over “realism”, how realistic is skam really, you have muslims saying sana’s casting is disgraceful and muslims saying they don’t mind it, people of color saying it’s bad that there are no pocs and that sana is whitewashed and other people of color saying this isn’t a big deal because it’s realistic for italy, europeans claiming all the hate is coming from americans who live in a “us centric world” and don’t understand european views on race and europeans saying uh no i also think this is racist, italians saying this is just how italy is and italians calling all the racist stuff out. it’s just a ton of arguments that are difficult things to get people to see eye to eye on especially when it’s all over social media text and everyone feels like they have something to prove! prove the show they like is morally sound! prove they’re actually the most “woke”! prove and blame and defend and dog pile on everything! and no one is actually listening to each other because defending or shitting on a show is more important than remembering the humanity behind these arguments. remembering that there’s a person who you’re upsetting! who you are hurting because we’ve all invested too much of ourself in this!

it really bred this perfect space for back and forth arguments that went nowhere because people felt the need to tighten their hold on their own ideologies and to defend their position over any random comments they see. i’m guilty of doing this a number of times. i’ve seen a post in the skam tag and made my own post against it. i’ve seen comments on my post or people sub-blogging me and called them out to address it. this thing this show and all it’s versions are something we as fans all feel very strongly about. and this is really the only space we have to talk about it. to hash everything out. to post whatever thought we have. emotion run high! and with the anonymity of social media these arguments escalate so quickly!

i think it’s accurate to say that skamit fans are defensive. they feel like they have to be because they feel like the reasons they and the show they love are attacked are arbitrary reasons. they’ll dealt with so much criticism that any remark against skamit feels like another attack they need to defend themselves against. which has now created a culture where people are scared to say anything critical of skamit. that they’ll be deemed a hater and told “if you don’t like don’t watch”. but people don’t have to defend against every argument they see! they dont need to sit themselves on a high horse! anti skamit people are told to just leave and not bother with skamit but this goes both ways! skamit fans don’t have to address every criticism!

because of this back and forth that went no where we’ve created a culture where we can’t seem to even have discussions about the show anymore. about what we like/don’t like. what’s working and what’s not. that if you say “i don’t like this” you’ll get someone in your ask box basically saying “fuck you” because we attacked the people that wanted to enjoy the show it’s made them feel that everything is an attack. and this is a phenomenon you see across many fandoms! this morally superior hate-filled childish attacks. and at this point i don’t know if we can undo the damage that’s been done, both to how the fans of skamit view criticizers and how the people that aren’t fans view the fans. and that’s honestly really unfortunate

#ask #anon #it: talkingheads #idk

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onceuponamirror · 7 years

Text

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 4

summary: It wasn’t an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister’s college graduation. That’s it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale

ship: betty x jughead

words: 16k

chapters: 4/?

[read from the beginning] [read the latest]

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Jughead stares at her, and then crosses the room to place his bag in the chair he’d been occupying. He seems to hesitate. “Should I…do I need anything?”

Betty presses her lips together, trying not to smile at how oddly confused he looks. “No. Might want to take off your jacket, though. I’ll grab you a jumpsuit. This work is dirty.”

She quickly turns around, cheeks blooming at the way that had come out. He doesn’t seem to notice, because he’s busying himself with shedding his jean jacket, but she hadn’t meant it to sound so coy.

He follows her to the supply closet, where she sifts through the available uniforms. She normally keeps her work suit in her office, so she’s forgotten her father’s uniform was still there, stuffed in the back. Hesitating as her eyes fall on his embroidered name, she sighs and skips forward a few hangers.

Joaquin isn’t coming in today, so hopefully he won’t mind sharing his. Betty hands him the jumpsuit and he wordlessly slips into it.

“The truck is on spot three, if you wanna pop the hood. I’m just gonna change again,” she says, nodding to the other side of the garage. She hates wearing her clothes under her suit because she always overheats, but maybe she’d grabbed a new pink shirt because she’d felt slightly embarrassed about the state of her appearance when she’d first met him.

Betty moves to the corner blind spot to change out of sight. As she pulls her top over her head, she remembers her promise to investigate the relationship status of whichever Veronica had dubbed the cute one, but she’s still not totally sure who that’s supposed to be. Archie is good-looking too, if albeit reminded her a bit uncomfortably of her ex-boyfriend in personality.

Veronica seemed to have zeroed in on the redhead, though Betty silently decides there’s something cuter about the perennial pout of Jughead, even if she can’t tell if he’s something of a jerk, or just someone in a bad position.

But if she asks Veronica if Jughead is the one she’s interested in, her friend will just assume Betty thinks he’s cute (she does) and she’ll never hear the end of it (ever). Veronica has been borderline obsessed with getting Betty “back out there” since breaking things off with Trev, but it’s been barely four months and she doesn’t understand the rush.

More than once, she’s wondered if it’s Veronica’s looming guilt for leaving her in Riverdale at the end of the summer, as if Betty wasn’t the one who encouraged her to apply for law school.

Even if she does feel the imminence of her absence, eying it like some dark cloud thundering off over a far mountain, she still has Kevin and Joaquin, her sister, and even her mother or Cheryl on a good day. But by Veronica’s calculations, Betty would think she’s about to become some spinster recluse.

Then again, Betty has been at the garage since five to avoid her mother, so maybe she’s not too far off. Betty decides she’ll just cover her bases and find out about both guys for Ronnie. If she even can. She’s never been entirely good with subtlety, but she’ll have to find a way to sneak the question in.

When she steps out of her office, fully changed, Jughead is standing to the side of his truck, eying her rolling work cart. She bounces up to him and pulls the cart around to the hood.

“So this is all we need to get started, for now. Sorry, this is a little cluttered! I wasn’t expecting anyone. Here, can you move the book? Just put it anywhere with a clean surface.” She realizes that doesn’t give him a lot of options, but he hesitantly takes the thick book and quickly drops it on a storage shelf.

“Bit of light reading?” He jokes, walking back to her. His nose wriggles slightly.

“Sure, if you call 500 pages of paperback dedicated to murder light,” Betty smirks, jerking her head towards the engine in a gesture that asks him to join her. He comes to stand next to her, though noticeably keeps his distance and she instantly feels silly for her putting on the new shirt earlier. He peers over her shoulder into the engine.

“So what am I looking at? Besides the obvious,” he adds, eyes narrowed as they dart over the machinery.

She points to the dark spot burned in on the left side. “See that there? That’s where your compressor fried. That’s why your car started smoking; the engine overheated when it failed. The first thing I’m gonna do is pull that out.”

Jughead nods once, eyes moving rapidly around the spot she’s hovering over. She gesticulates to the main engine. “And this is the head gasket. It basically locks everything in place. Without it—”

“I’m dead in the water,” he summarizes correctly. “So why do I need a new one?”

“Head gaskets are tricky, because they’re not always symptomatic. The whole point is that they’re sealed. So you have to look beyond what’s right in front of you. It takes a bit of detective work, but between you and me, that’s my favorite part. See your cylinder block?” She points to it.

“That’s why you think I need it replaced? That rust on the underside?” Betty gives an mm-hm. The rust is almost fully hidden, and not everyone would see it right away. “So it’s leaking,” Jughead guesses.

“You’re a fast learner,” she says truthfully, impressed. His eyes dart down and to the side as he shrugs.

“It’s the long-earned habit of a slacker,” he replies dismissively. “So you weren’t kidding about an engine being more than the sum of its parts. Wouldn’t have thought Aristotle would be this relevant to 20th century machinery. Huh. And you said something about a valve?”

“Right. It’s called that for a reason. The whole engine works like a heart.”

“That’s apt,” he says softly.

Betty glances over her shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. Something indiscernible but vaguely intense moves across his face. She takes a breath of air to steady the buzzing across her chest and looks back at the engine. “So that one, on the right? You can see where it’s thinning.”

Jughead leans in over the car, moving closer to her. “Yep,” he says, as she grabs a rag to wipe off as much of the carbon remnants from the compressor as she can. It’ll be a lot easier to remove if she can see what she’s doing.

“So, what’s in Chicago?” She asks, deciding to push an opening to investigate. She resolutely keeps her eyes on the engine, lest she burst into the same flames that claimed the compressor.

“The women in our lives,” Jughead says off-handedly. When she looks up, surprised, he adds, “Archie’s mom and my sister. Respectively.”

He grins down at her, and she realizes it might be the first time she’s actually seen him smile. She finds it suits him, especially for a guy who seems to wear a scowl like it’s a personal edict. “Why do you ask?”

She turns her gaze back down to her work and tries to keep her voice innocent. “I can’t make conversation?”

He pauses. “Yeah, sorry, of course. I’m kind of bad at…small talk. Uh, my little sister is graduating from Northwestern, hence the firm deadline. Archie just tagged along for the ride since his mom is in Chicago too. And we’ve been talking about a road trip on and off since high school, so we figured we might as well give it a shake. Although it ended up being a pretty pathetic attempt, obviously.”

She chuckles. It’s not exactly the firm answer she’d hoped to get for Veronica, but the derisive tone in Jughead’s voice when he’d talked about the women in their lives seemed to imply an equal shot. “You and Archie have known each other a while then?”

“Since we were nothing but mindless wee babes. We grew up in the same town, a bit outside of Boston.”

She glances over, feeling amused. “All those remarks about Riverdale and you’re from a suburb?”

Jughead turns bright red. “I didn’t mean it like that. Yesterday, I was just…you might’ve noticed I’m already not the cheeriest guy around. My beloved truck breaking down not 5 days into a road trip I hadn’t even planned for didn’t do wonders for my mood. Somehow.”

“I know, I could tell. You’re forgiven,” she says, with mock seriousness even though she means it. Privately, Betty decides that even if she weren’t her pitifully lenient self, she’d still let it go after seeing that anxious look in his eye.

“Thank you, I can now sleep easily once more,” he says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling again. Then he rubs at his neck. “So, do you like that book you’re reading?”

She blinks, surprised by the question and the suddenly informal pitch in his voice. “Yeah,” she says. “It’s been sitting on my shelf for a while, and I finally got to it last week.”

“That’s not much of an answer. What do you really think of it?” He asks, squinting at her.

Betty raises an eyebrow, but he’s got a hard look in his eye and she might as well be honest. “It is good. It’s lonely, but good.”

He wrinkles his brow. “What do you mean, lonely?”

She sighs, trying to think of a way to summarize her thoughts. “There’s a lot of open space in the writing. Like the main character is always waiting for something that doesn’t come. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

Jughead scratches at his temple. “No, it…does. That’s a very editorial thing to say.”

It’s Betty’s turn to look away. Considering that’s more or less what she went to school for, she takes it as a compliment.

“So you’d recommend it, then?” Jughead presses. He quickly adds, “I’m looking for something to kill the three weeks with. Was gonna try to find a book store.”

“Sure. I like that it’s not a vendetta. I like true crime books, but they’re always about some guy whose wife was murdered in front of him. Sometimes that works, but I decided I’m kind of done with the fridged female character. But I’m only halfway through, and it’s a little lacking in diversity.”

He shifts against the hood, frowning. “Meaning?”

Betty shrugs and switches back to the engine, tools now in hand. She starts unloosening the screws of the burnt compressor. “I like that it’s really about this guy’s relationship with his family, especially his father, but there just isn’t much presence of women in the book.”

Jughead is silent next to her, but she can feel his eyes on her, so she twists back. “What?”

His tongue digs into his cheek thoughtfully and shakes his head. “You just didn’t strike me as a true crime kind of girl.”

She leans next to him against the truck. “What did I strike you as?” She asks, feeling unusually bold.

Here in Riverdale, she’s the same old Betty Cooper that she’s always been. Everyone knows her here, knows her to be kind and giving and good. Simple and plain. But Jughead is a stranger, he’ll be gone soon, and she wants to know what he sees.

His lips lift slightly, but his face betrays nothing. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

He leaves not long after that, with some vague excuse about work (though she’s forgotten to ask what it is exactly that he does)—but then, much to her surprise, Jughead comes back the next day. In fact, he’s already there waiting when she pulls up the drive.

“Nice car,” he greets, with an impressed kind of look.

“It’s just advertising,” she laughs, shutting the door to her blue Chevy Bel Air. “If I didn’t drive something like this, people would think I wouldn’t know how to handle an old engine.”

“Fair point,” Jughead says. His eyes run over it, and then her. “Well, you’ve convinced me.”

She tries not to flush under his curious gaze, but seizes the opportunity to shield her face by grabbing her bag from the open window. When she turns back, he’s shifting on his feet. “Sorry to come back unannounced,” he says, clearing his throat. “I wasn’t sure how much of me you’d signed up for. I mean, whether or not I could shadow your work again today. I didn’t want to presume, and I thought about texting you first, but—”

“Jughead, really, it’s okay,” she insists, even though it’s a bit adorable watching him ramble. She gets out her keys and fiddles with the garage padlocks, smiling over at him. “I think it’s good that you want to learn. This truck isn’t getting younger, and maintenance is important on a car like this.”

And yesterday she found him to be good company, despite the recurring frown, so she genuinely doesn’t mind. Jughead looks relieved, and scurries over to help her push up the rolling overnight gates.

He hangs around a few feet behind her at first, but after she hands him an engine manual to study, a switch seems to flip between them. Or, she realizes, he just relaxes. Somewhere between Jughead’s scowl smoothing out and her cracking her father’s worst car joke—

(“I try to think of a good car pun, but I’m always too exhausted.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Because of the exhaust pipe.”

“Yeah, I got that. Terrible.”)

—Betty decides that Jughead is not only good company, but he’s also a surprisingly calming presence. She’s not sure if it’s his dry humor or his blunt honesty, but all he has to do is roll his eyes her way and stretch his long legs out against something as he makes some clever quip and she’s laughing again in a way she hasn’t laughed all year.

She’d gotten so used to the hours ticking by unaccompanied in this garage that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to work alongside someone—even if Jughead isn’t actually much help. He doesn’t quite have the natural talent for mechanics, though still an observant, diligent student. He occasionally asks questions while leafing through the manual or leaning over her shoulder, but mostly seems content to watch her work.

After an afternoon of switching between his engine and the other cars she’s responsible for, she decides it’s time for a break. She stretches her arms high over her head. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee, do you want some?” She asks, rolling her neck.

“A woman after my heart,” Jughead says, glancing at her over the top of the manual. Only his eyes are visible, but that’s enough to find herself blushing. Then, with a flash, it just reminds her that she forgot to update Veronica on what she’d gleaned yesterday.

“I’ll be right back,” she says.

“And I’ll be right here,” he replies, attention returning to the manual. He gets up and wanders over the truck, head turning between engine and book as he studies the two.

When she gets to her office, she settles into her desk to catch up on her work emails. She shoots off a request for the compressor she needs to her friend Adam—who runs a much bigger garage up in Hudson and is usually the one she turns to when she’s in a bit of a mechanic bind—and then responds to a thank you email from a satisfied customer. There are more things to sort through, but she owes Veronica a response first.

V, not 100% sure, but I think both boys are single, she texts.

Veronica’s reply comes almost instantly.

C’est magnifique, isn’t it? One for me and one for you!

Betty looks up from her phone and across the garage, where she can see Jughead sticking his head over the engine and muttering to himself. She turns back to her phone keyboard. Wait, what? Did you already know?

Of course. Archie tracked me down yesterday and asked me out. Of course, we’re going to have to drive down to New Paltz for any kind of decent dinner. Candlelight should be present at all first dates.

So it was Archie that Veronica was interested in. She tries to ignore the quickening of her heart. Then there’s a pause, the little ellipsis appearing ominously as Veronica begins to type.

Wait, how do YOU know?

** Well, you left me with very vague instructions, V! **

?? Did you think Archie’s friend was the cute one??

It’s impossible for a text to gasp, but Veronica somehow manages it. Betty supposes there’s some kind of satisfaction in predicting exactly how this conversation would go but there’s not much.

** I just asked him when he was at the garage yesterday because I wasn’t sure who you were interested in! that’s it! **

He was hanging out at the garage with you?

** V, I’m fixing his truck, it’s not unreasonable for him to be here. **

Is he there again today?

Shit. She shouldn’t have used the present tense. Betty definitely doesn’t want to tell her that. But Veronica doesn’t wait long for her not to answer, sending over a flurry of angel and heart emojis.

B!!

This is going just as badly as she’d expected it would, so she quickly puts her phone on silent and sets it face down on the desk. Exhaling, she decides to busy herself with making coffee. While it bubbles and percolates, she muses with what’s just transpired.

She’s not sure why she feels so defensive; probably because she wants her next relationship to be developed on her own terms and not pushed into it because her well-meaning but boundary-stricken friends are overly invested in her life.

Still—it wouldn’t be so crazy for her to like Jughead, would it?

Granted, she doesn’t know him very well, but she’s already admitted to herself that she finds him attractive. And he’s since apologized for his occasionally rude behavior, which was her main put off. And she’d been ready to break up with Trev long before actually summoning the courage, so it’s not like she’s not over him. If anything, she feels bad at how much she is over him.

Really, there are only two problems with allowing a crush on Jughead to bloom. One, she finds him hard to read, and with the amount of literal space he keeps putting between them, she guesses he really is just here to learn about his truck. Two, he’s leaving. In three weeks. And she’ll never see him again after that.

And that is the bottom line. What if she ends up really liking him and all she’s left with is an empty garage and feeling more trapped here than ever? The risk just doesn’t seem worth it for a guy who, right after meeting her, said: “let’s get this over with."

She’s never been able to separate sex and feelings, so the last thing she needs is to put emotional stake in some rolling stone. So she decides right then and there that she won’t let her mind consider it any further.

As she’s making that vow to herself, she spots Kevin moving silently across the garage, clearly mindful of where he steps. Jughead is bent over the truck, his nose pressed against the manual she gave him and unaware of the sneaking figure creeping up behind him.

Betty comes out of her office to watch it unfold more closely. She’s unsure what Kevin is doing, but then he wraps his arms tightly around Jughead’s torso and says, “Surprise!”

Jughead freezes. “No shit,” he says, after a long pause. Kevin scrambles back.

“Oh. You’re not Joaquin.”

“Definitely not,” Jughead replies, turning around. His eyebrows are so high on his forehead they’re practically in his hairline.

“Joaquin isn’t working today, Kev,” Betty says sheepishly, coming around towards them. Jughead looks over at her. “He had to go up to Catskill to see his mom.”

“Oh, damn. I forgot. He did say that,” Kevin sighs, scratching awkwardly behind his ear. “Sorry about that. I was just trying to surprise him with lunch. Trying to extend the honeymoon period and all that.” He lifts up a brown paper bag and shoves it at Jughead. “Here, you can have it. It’s the least I can do.”

“I was gonna say you’d have to buy me dinner first,” Jughead mutters, accepting the bag and peeking inside it. “But this’ll do.”

Kevin grins at Betty. “You didn’t tell me you hired a new guy. About time.” But he doesn’t give her a moment to reply, immediately offering Jughead his hand. “One day we’ll laugh about this. I’m Kevin.”

Jughead takes it, but exchanges a look with Betty, who jumps in. “Kev, this is Jughead. His truck broke down in Riverdale during a road trip. He just wanted to learn about fixing his engine, so that’s why he’s here.”

Still shaking Jughead’s hand, despite his mounting discomfort, Kevin stares at Betty with the kind of expression she’s learned to hate on him: one of mischievous curiosity. He looks back at Jughead and seems to realize he’s been forcing him to shake his hand for about half a minute.

He releases Jughead from his grip. “You don’t say. How long are you in town for?”

Jughead glances at Betty, who nods. “She said three weeks.”

Kevin cocks his neck, gears clearly working. “And what are you doing here again?”

But a ringing from across the garage saves either from answering. Betty raises a pausing finger in the air. “Uh—hold on. That’s my office phone,” she says, already cutting across the room. She catches it just before it goes out. “Cooper Garage, Betty speaking.”

“Hey, Betts, it’s Adam. Got your email—I do have the compressor part you need, but I’m out of town till next week. Will that work?”

She lets out a thankful breath. “That’ll be great, Adam. Lemme know when you’re back and I’ll pop up to Hudson. You’re a lifesaver!”

He chuckles across the line. “You’ll have to owe me,” he says, which is what he says every time. They make a bit more polite chatter (Adam always manages to make her look like a comparable introvert, somehow) and then Betty finds her goodbyes.

Kevin corners her as she’s coming out of her office. “So, were you planning on telling me about tall, dark, and broody?”

“There’s nothing to tell, Kev. Just because that’s your type doesn’t mean it’s mine,” Betty says, although she’s already decided that’s not strictly true. Still, she resists the strong urge to tell him to keep his voice down. “And he can’t wait to get out of here, trust me.”

“If you say so,” Kevin says, crossing his arms. “But for the record, he’s been staring over here the whole time we’ve been talking.”

They both turn and look over at Jughead, and his head immediately jerks upwards to the ceiling, like he’s found something very interesting up in the high beams. He sulks off, shoving his hands forcefully in his pockets.

Kevin grins back at her smugly. “Stop,” she sighs.

“I didn’t do anything,” he replies innocently.

“I can hear you thinking,” Betty mumbles. “Besides, he might’ve been looking at you.”

Kevin seems to consider this. “That’s fair. I did practically just grab his ass. And I am something of a Kennedy, so I wouldn’t really blame him.”

She raises a hand in the air as if to say “see?” but the smile drops from his face, his lips pinching together. “I’m not trying to push Veronica’s agenda on you, to be clear. I’m just all a-flush with new romance and I can’t help but want that for my best girl too.”

Betty smiles softly. “I know that. And I appreciate that. But if I’ve learned anything, my next relationship needs to have…meaning. I can’t get that from a guy with one foot out the door. And besides, honestly, I don’t think he’s interested. And I’m not—I’m just fixing his engine. So please, just—”

But Kevin doesn’t look satisfied. “I’m not just talking about dating though, Betty. I want you to be happy. I never see you anymore unless I come here and… If it were me, and I’d just gotten out of a two year relationship that dramatically, and I was spending all my time at work and my dad had just—”

“Stop,” she repeats it again, but this time with force, closing her eyes briefly. “Kevin, please. I’m fine. I’ve just been busier with everything since Joaquin started classes. Which is fine, Mr. Boyfriend, I’m not complaining, I’m really happy he wants his degree, but it just means I need to put in more hours for now.”

Kevin doesn’t look convinced and she hates the concern in his eyes. “But what happens when he and I go to Europe? What are you gonna do when it’s just you alone in this garage for two months?”

“I’ll hire someone,” she huffs, tightening her ponytail. “When he leaves.”

He puts up his hands. “Whatever you say. It’s your business. Literally. But can we at least make some plans to see each other outside of this grease trap? I mean, you should appreciate the depths of which I care for you and Joaquin to show up here in my best khakis.”

She smiles, finally relaxing. “Yes, definitely. How about tomorrow at Pop’s?” Kevin nods approvingly, and just then, Jughead wanders back over towards them. She turns to him, happy for a break from the ghost of the Spanish Inquisition inhabiting her friend. “Hey, Jughead! Good news! I heard back from my guy in Hudson and he has the part for me. I can go get it next week.”

“Oh, he’s definitely got a part for you,” Kevin mutters under his breath, much to Betty’s annoyance. She shoots him a warning glare, unsure how many times she has to insist Adam doesn’t think of her that way. Then again, most of her defenses had come about in the era of Trev, and she’s not sure how’ll they hold up with her single. She’s secretly suspected it’s not a completely unfounded theory.

Jughead glances between them. “Great,” he says finally. His voice is back to its usual flat tenor.

Kevin gives him one long, parting look before bidding them both farewell, saying he has to get back to the mayor’s office. They’re planning a 4th of July parade that has been one misstep after another and he is very needed, apparently.

Afterwards, she brings the coffee pot out to her work station and they settle in on folding chairs. Jughead guzzles down two cups of black coffee without seemingly taking a breath in between and amiably asks her about good examples of books that don’t fridge their female characters (a topic on which she has nothing but thoughts).

Later, once Betty can no longer excuse a longer break, she and Jughead fall back into their routines (her working, him hanging around observing). It’s quiet but comfortable, and she lets him pick the next music, even after he jokes that he’s a loyal metalhead.

Instead, he puts on The Beach Boys (he gives, “it’s the road trip playlist that never was,” as his excuse), and when Wouldn’t It Be Nice comes on, she thinks simply that maybe it would.

He excuses himself to the restroom halfway through the song, but she’s spared from analyzing that as the red garage phone rings across the room.

“Cooper Garage, this is Betty,” she says into the receiver. Polly’s voice breaks across the line.

“Hi Betty! Sorry to bother you at work, but I was wondering if you minded picking up the kids from day camp in an hour? You know I hate putting this on you, but I thought I could get off earlier today but something came up last minute here. And Jason is so picky about nannies and we just haven’t found a new one we like. And you’re so great with them.”

Betty pulls the phone away from her mouth in order to take in a long breath. Jughead walks back into the room as she’s straightening up. “Of course, Pol,” she says, forcing a bright voice. “No problem. I came in early today, so I can close up by then.”

“You’re the best,” Polly says, with evident relief. “Do you wanna have dinner tonight? You can hang out with the kids till we’re home and then I’ll order us some well-deserved take out of your choice.”

It’s a roundabout way of asking her to also babysit, which frustrates her. She’d appreciate Polly just being direct about it at this point, since it’s been two months since Jason fired the last nanny and essentially hired her, minus the pay.

But since she’d come home last night to her mother very pointedly saying Trev had dropped off another box of Betty’s things (if one could call a couple of socks and books that) and tried to wait around for her, she’ll take the excuses to stay out that she can get.

“That sounds great. I’ll see you tonight,” Betty says, and then hangs up with a bit more force than she’d like Jughead to see. She pivots back to him. “I’m gonna have to close up. Do you want me to drop you somewhere on my way out?”

His gaze is eagled and she doesn’t like it. “Uh, sure. That would be great. Everything…okay?”

She waves a hand and starts putting tools away. “Absolutely. Everything’s fine. Just babysitting duty again.”

Jughead hums. “You just don’t seem too thrilled.”

Betty cocks her neck up at him, momentarily thrown off guard. She narrows her eyes. “I love my family,” she says sharply. “I’m happy to help out.”

He shrugs indifferently, but there’s still something working behind his eyes. “Okay, sorry. That wasn’t my place.”

“It’s fine,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m just gonna finish packing up these tools and then get changed. Do you want to wait in my office?”

It’s an unspoken dismissal, and Jughead nods, scratching behind his neck. Once he’s gone, she lets out a shaky breath, trying to convince herself she’s unsure why she suddenly feels so frustrated. In reality, she knows it’s because she’s spent 25 years perfecting perfection and it’s unnerving that a guy she barely knows can spot her discomfort right away.

But she is fine. It is fine. She does genuinely love her family, but she also wants to appreciate having them. Life is fickle and she’s learned the hard way that no amount of rigorous planning can hold up against fate. So if that means she needs to hand her time over to her sister once in a while, she will.

After a few minutes, she’s ready to go. He emerges from her office looking pensive and frowning once more.

She locks up. Jughead follows.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #fics

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sappho-official · 8 years

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hi i hope its not too much trouble to ask you but i've noticed you reblogged da:i in the past and i just got the game so i was wondering if you have any advice for a beginner? like any helpful tips or tricks will do. (sorry in advance)

Yeah sure! Don’t apologize, I love Dragon Age, so I’m happy to talk about it, as evidenced by how freaking long this got.

I wasn’t sure if you wanted combat or story advice, so like here’s both (I threw lore and combat under the cut because that got LONG), and also I sort of assumed you hadn’t played any other Dragon Age games before by the phrasing in the question (sorry if you have lmao).

When picking between the three dialogue options that don’t have emotion indicators, what they actually are is basically:

Top: Passive and placating, traditionally the most friendly answer. Often wins you over allies in political stuff, and it’s usually the most emotionally-conscious option. Some characters may feel like you’re being too passive, Sera tends not to enjoy this one, for example, whereas Cole tends to. (these are, ofc, situational)

Middle: Witty and curious, most likely to be humorous. May occasionally allow you to ask extra questions as well. A lot of companions tend to approve of this one, though characters like Cassandra may sometimes feel like you’re making a poorly timed joke. Sass the villains! It’s my favorite.

Bottom: Aggressive and direct, a bit more likely to make people mad at you, though that depends on the person. Maybe not the option to pick while trying to comfort someone. Still, being direct is a pretty good trait for a leader to have. Characters like Sera, Cassandra, and Bull really enjoy this one.

(Dragon Age 2 had the personality feature, and each of these options were actually labeled and would affect what your character said even when you weren’t controlling them. It seems like DA:I was supposed to have this feature, but was cut at some point)

The Star option (top left) is the “you did a sidequest/said a special thing!” option that opens up some extra stuff. If it’s an option, I’d usually take it. Sometimes there’s another icon, based on your race/class and other stuff as well, usually fun to take because it’s more unique to your character.

Far left [investigate] lets you ask questions. Do this before picking anything else. Some characters (Solas and Varric) really like when you ask questions.

When it comes to picking a character I’ll tell you quite honestly that playing as a Human (especially mage) or Elf will often give you the most story stuff. Qunari are also pretty rad, but playing as a Dwarf gives you very little story stuff unfortunately. Makes me sad, I like Dwarves.

You’re gonna probably want the Trespasser DLC if you finish the game. It’s $15. You need it to finish the plot+get the lead in to DA4 whenever that’ll happen. Sorry.

The power feature is a load of Bullshit and honestly a feature I don’t enjoy. Basically, just go play sidequests that sound cool! Don’t worry about spending power to unlock new areas, there’s so much fun shit there I promise. Some side quests can be tedious, but each area (except the Hinterlands) has a main quest line. That’ll be the quest that Scout Harding assigns you when you first arrive in an area, and I promise that most of them are really neat. I especially recommend the Crestwood and Hissing Wastes questlines, but the Western Approach is actually my favorite area in the entire game.

DA:I is a bit tedious, but a game that I think is best enjoyed if you take your time. It makes it feel like you should rush the main questline, but seriously, don’t. The main quest of DA:I is...honestly kind of crappy imo. It’s just a bit generic. Now, the DLC plots? those are awesome.

Some quests will lead you into like, dungeon areas. These are always dope, and often a bit more difficult, so bring lots of health regen potions with you. Some of them are unlocked by doing war table missions, so keep an eye out for stuff that’s like, related to Elven history, since that’s usually where those start. A bunch of them have neat loot at the end! And bring Solas to the Elven ruins, he’ll have some comments. Sera will complain the entire time, which can be funny as well. I like those two a lot tho.

Also don’t spend too much time in the Hinterlands at a low level. It’s massive and you’ll wander into an area that’s for a way higher level. Go mess around on the Storm Coast and Fallow Mire early on. tbh the only reason the Hinterlands is so big is because they wanted to be like “look!! we made an area larger than the past two games combined!!! aren’t we great!!!!!” no bioware, I just got killed by 6 bears at level 2. fuck off. It’s pretty though.

Pay close attention to the War Table stuff, especially the stuff that revolves around your character’s family/friends. I won’t spoil it, but if you play as an elf you can, uh, fuck that up real bad.

Don’t worry about collecting Shards or Mosaic pieces or whatever. Seriously, there’s no point in doing it (I say this as someone who’s like 99%ed this game okay, it’s a waste of time unless you really really want to)

Dorian and Iron Bull can get together if you don’t romance either of them. You’ll need to have them in your party a lot though, because party banter (the conversations your companions have out in the field every 12-17 minutes) is what triggers their romance. If you really want to get them together, just put them in your party and leave the game running.

You don’t have to read every single codex entry, but I would recommend picking them up because it’ll give you experience I think. And it’ll give you stuff to read during loads. And like, during the plot heavy stuff, sometimes there’s neat shit? I like worldbuilding tho. The stuff in the Fade and the Temple of Mythal is the most interesting, I think.

It’s kind of difficult to know how your approval is with companions, but it is evidenced by what they say when you talk to them. If you’re really worried about what a character thinks of you, go take a glance at the Approval part of their wiki page (don’t read the other stuff!!) and it’ll help you figure it out. Certain characters have approvals that are easier to get up than others. (take Iron Bull to kill a dragon, take Varric to destroy red Lyrium, basically do their quests while they are in your party)

Lore and Combat are under the cut.

If you don’t know much about the setting I’d recommend checking the Dragon Age Keep, which lets you change what happened in previous games, and then have someone read it back to you! Full of spoilers for the other two games though, sorry. There’s a few decisions that effect DA:I (Morrigan’s dark ritual, who’s in charge of Ferelden, who tf is Hawke) but over all most of them won’t make any major changes (with the exception of Morrigan’s dark ritual from DA:O).

Steer clear of the wiki, seriously it spoiled a MAJOR thing for me. Also maybe don’t go hunting through my dragon age tags..........uh. There’s spoilers.

Basic Lore:

(some of this is technically wrong, but this is what your average player would know going into DA:I)

The Chantry (the catholic church), and they worship the Maker (god) and his wife Andraste (Jesus+Joanne of Arc) a mortal woman who raised a slave rebellion in Tevinter and was burned at the stake as a result. The Southern Chantry is headed by the Divine (the Pope), presently Divine Justinia. Cassandra and Leliana are her bodyguard and spymaster, respectively. (I say Southern Chantry, because the Tevinter Chantry has a different mentality on a lot of this. Go talk to Dorian about it when you meet him.)

The Southern Chantry preaches that the power of Mages is dangerous, so they should be confined to Circles, where they can study and also not fuck up the world. The Chantry employs Templars (think Paladins) to keep the mages in line. Templars take stuff called Lyrium to give them magic-suppressing powers. Talk to Cassandra and Cullen about Templars. Lyrium is mined up by dwarves, and it’s very dangerous when raw, just not as dangerous to dwarves. Lyrium can also be corrupted into Red Lyrium, which is Really Bad News and makes shit float and makes you go all kinds of loopy and also want to eat it? Bad stuff. Varric really hates it.

Mages get their power from the Fade, which is the dream world. Dreamers are especially powerful mages who have control over dreams. In the Fade there’s The Black City, which is supposedly where the Maker rules from. In the Fade there’s Demons, who can possess you, which mages are more susceptible to, and are all around bad news. There’s also spirits, and if you want to know about them go talk to Solas and Cole.

A bunch of old Tevinter Magisters (Roman Senators but mages and worshipped dragons) a longass time ago decided that the best way to get more powerful was to enter the fade themselves and go to the Black City. As the story goes, the Maker got pissed at them and sent them back to Thedas (earth) with The Blight (kind of like a zombie curse?) which is really bad news. So what was basically the zombie apocalypse (well they’re technically Darkspawn) started, causing the Wardens to be created. Wardens are sort-of blighted destroyers of the Blight. They shoved them into the Deep Roads, which is where the Dwarves live, so the Dwarves have been sectioning off areas to live in that are safe. Ferelden (the country where you are) recently got over the Fifth Blight (DA:O’s plot). Blights happen when one of those big ol dragon fellows (Old Gods technically) meet up with a bunch of Darkspawn and decide to terrorize the surface.

At the end of Dragon Age 2, the Mages started up a rebellion because they were basically being imprisoned. The Templars got mad and fought back, and succeeded from the Chantry, starting the Mage and Templar war. The title screen is the Conclave (peace conference run by Divine Justinia), at the Temple of Sacred Ashes (where Andraste’s ashes once were). Your character is attending the Conclave.

There’s also a civil war in Orlais between Grand Duke Gaspard and Empress Celene. Also, there’s this lady named Flemmeth, or Asha’Bellanar, who’s a major figure in Elven mythos and can turn into a dragon. She’s Morrigan’s mom and shows up in every game and is sort of immortal.

Combat Basics:

When it comes to combat, I think DA:I has the easiest but least intuitive combat system out of all of the Dragon Age games (there’s a casual mode and don’t worry about starting out with that mode if you haven’t played any Dragon Age games before).

Early on it’s totally a great idea to try out switching between different characters to see which class fits your playstyle best (I think that rogue archer is the simplest for a beginner), and if you want to recreate your character early on that’s totally rad (it took me three tries to realize that I really love 2 handed warriors the best, for example). Basically, here’s a breakdown of playstyles:

Warrior, sword+shield: melee tank, not built for damage. Best with the Champion (Blackwall) or Templar (Cassandra) specializations. One of the better AIs, so don’t worry about switching onto your tank as much. Would recommend having one of them in the party at all times tbh.

Warrior, two handed: melee AOE, built for damage. Basically just stick your two-hander in the center of everything and they’ll kill a bunch of people. Not as good against single-enemy fights (like dragons). Best with the Reaver (Iron Bull) or Champion (Blackwall) specializations.

Rogue, Dual Dagger: melee critical-based, does the most damage out of any build but fairly easy to kill as a result. Good with any of the rogue specializations, but really really good with Assassin (Cole).

Rogue, Archer: ranged damage, does the most ranged damage. Big bonus is the fact that you can move while attacking, which mages cannot do. Leave Varric as an archer, and upgrade Bianca a lot and he’ll become pretty strong! Sera also makes a pretty good archer, but she does pretty well as dual-dagger as well. Good with Artificer and Tempest specializations.

(you don’t get specializations until level 10, at which point you’ll get to pick your own for your character! Lot’s of fun ones, I recommend Reaver, Assassin, Tempest, and Rift Mage as my favorites to play, but just go with what sounds cool/fits the character tbh. Necromancy is a bit glitchy, just a heads up. Also you might need a guide for the quest, depending on which specialization you pick it can be a pain in the ass to figure out)

Mages have a lot more variety to them, and I recommend picking two trees for each mage (+their specialization once you get there). I personally go for Spirit+one type of damage for each one, and it doesn’t matter which type of damage you go for for each mage, since their specializations don’t change a ton of their playstyle. I would recommend having at least one Winter mage and one Inferno mage, so that you can fight dragons/tough enemies with the opposite type of element (there’s no Spirit dragons, and Storm is the least useful against big enemies anyways.)

Spirit: The most useful skill tree in the game, I promise. Barrier, dispel, and whatever the resurrection spell is are some of the most useful spells in the entire game. Also, dispel can be used when a rift is about to spit out more demons and like, you can see the lil circle-y bits on the ground, you just cast dispel on one of those spots and boom, the demon won’t show up! The AI for spirit mage is pretty alright I guess, I usually switch onto my main spirit mage during big difficult fights (dragons especially, dragons are Tough), but honestly I don’t enjoy constantly having to pause to cast barriers so I don’t play it myself.

Winter: CC, does the least amount of damage but the slows/freezes are So Fucking Useful, I swear. If you’ve got a pretty heavy damage team, Winter is great for a purely support mage. I basically build my favorite mage (Solas) to be Winter+Spirit, which is the best combo for playing what is basically just a healer that does very little damage. Also has the fantastic spell, Fade Step, which allows a mage to FWOOOSH across the battlefield to get out of trouble. If your mage is taking a lot of hits, switch onto them and move them out of the way with this.

Inferno: DOT, some AOE. I think Inferno and Storm are sort of tied for damage, but Inferno does more damage to individual enemies. Can also terrify enemies, which is a little bit annoying if you’re playing as a melee character. Just mostly damage, all around pretty solid. Makes my PS4 lag a bit when the entire screen is on fire.

Storm: AOE mostly, can also shock enemies. Basically allows you to chain attacks between multiple enemies. Super neat but my least used mage tree tbh? Not sure why. Does damage, not as useful against big enemies (especially dragons. I feel like I talk about dragons a lot, but there’s like, 12 dragons in the entire game? I just liked fighting them bc A. it’s Dragon Age and B. my character literally drank dragon blood okay, it was sort of badass and C. I like dragons)

I would have to look at my old skill-trees if you want advice on which kits work best together, I couldn’t tell you off the top of my head.

When it comes to building a balanced team, my go-to is:

One Sword-and-Shield Warrior

One Two-Handed Warrior or Dagger Rogue

One Archer Rogue or Damage-y Mage

One Support Mage

So like, pick some favs and build them to fit into that pretty much. Mix up your party though! Some characters, like Sera and Solas, have strange perspectives that can be hard to understand at first, but are really interesting once you get to know them, so stick them in your party!

And I think that’s it? I’m sure I’ve got tons more advice I could share with you (I’ve introduced a few people to the series now so this is almost all stuff I’ve already told them) but this is already like a bajillion words. Also I have to do homework still. whoops?

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age inquisition guide #long post #why did i write so much i still need to finish these storyboards tf am i doing with my life #i just love dragon age so much you guys......#wordbarf #cyekic

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cosmosogler · 7 years

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hello. yesterday sucked.

i don’t even remember yesterday that well. i ended up hanging out with keegan and harrison for like an hour and a half, between 5:30 and 7, right before we proctored... we were swapping goofy youtube videos. at the end of my video my youtube recommendations popped up and i was like “NOOOOOOOOOOO” and tried to cover up my screen while having a panic attack, because i’m really cool.

i listen to video game soundtracks. i do not really want them knowing which video games i like. even though portal 2 is objectively the best game ever i just feel like... it’s hard to share fan made content with other people.

like when i mentioned i read fan fiction everyone got all weird about it like i was reading hardcore porn or something. i don’t like that feeling. that like... misunderstanding of what my interest is. then i end up rambling for two hours to explain my love for this piece of media and i bore the other person and then we’re back at square one.

but if i join, like, a fandom, i’ll be expected to only talk about that one thing. but i like lots of things!!! i dunno. let me listen to the blue sky “podcast” in peace.

i’ve never talked about that book with ANYONE, except to mention that it’s really good. and it is a novel. it takes that long to read.

anyway proctoring was boring so i spent some time counting all the left-handed students in the lecture hall, and then i played pokemon go, and then i wandered around staring intimidatingly at people. i am not intimidating at all, i wear a bow in my hair. but they looked at me like i was either gonna rip their heads off, or stark naked, and i’m not sure which.

also the stapler was loud as a gunshot and i flinched every time i had to staple someone’s exam together, which was 115 times.

i talked to the professor i was teamed up with though and we just talked about, like, moving to a new place and getting established i guess? i don’t know about you guys but i unironically like talking about the weather. leave me alone.

i actually can’t tell if i want to be alone or not. i feel sick like i want to be alone. but i also desperately want to talk about this stuff i like. i talked to keegan about competitive pokemon for 20 minutes and let him see my collection. well, “see,” because he is basically blind and didn’t even realize my ds had a top screen. he asked how many of my 270 pokemon are hacked and i said like 8. and that’s... true. in the ballpark of ten, i think.

he stopped playing after diamond and pearl so i had to explain hidden abilities and triple battles. i miss triple battles.

oh right, yesterday i had group therapy. i got some advice. i think i will try to implement it soon. basically the idea is to carry a notebook or a phone memo with you and to periodically question yourself and write down everything you are feeling. it might help me narrow down my emotions to more than “angry” or “confused.” and she said it helps you get to know yourself better too.

hey today i woke up on time again. i think snoopy had been laying on my feet because they were extremely warm when i woke up. i didn’t get enough sleep at all. i finished getting ready early so of course that means i got distracted and left for class a little late.

but i biked turbo fast i guess because i got to class right on time and started teaching right away. i think it went ok. i was completely exhausted about 3/4 of the way through my second lab though so the last half hour was a real struggle to help everyone finish. i don’t know why my last section has so much trouble finishing on time. it cuts into my lunch break before my meetings with danielle at the drc. or whatever other appointment i have to attend to that day. last week i didn’t even get a lunch break, i had to eat at the seminar thing, i mentioned.

but it’s my middle section, which i feel i teach the best, that’s been getting consistently the lowest grades out of my sections. so i dunno. i use the same rubric for all three.

so i forced down some lunch and graded for 45 minutes (skipped coffee cookie time on accident, i didn’t really feel like dealing with sam today anyway, maybe next week). and then i went to the drc. we arranged for my course to get dropped and i contacted financial aid about the change to my minimum full time credit hours. i haven’t heard back from them yet, but the minute i do i’m going to set up an appointment with my graduate advisor to get that settled. in the meantime danielle told me not to waste my time going to class and to worry about the long term stuff.

maybe since everyone is here all year round i can cajole one of the professors into leading an “independent study” where i can try to keep up with my e&m credit.

we finished that up in about 25 minutes so danielle spent a while asking about my emotions. i think they were good questions because for once i had answers i could put into words, sort of. she pointed out that i laugh when i mention something painful to me. i said i get that a lot. it’s... easier than acknowledging that it hurts. ESPECIALLY in front of other people. crying is awkward and makes people uncomfortable.

we went a little bit into, like, the reasoning behind my trust issues and how it affects me now. it really was painful giving a list of the people that have majorly wronged me. and now how i don’t tell people when i’m sad or angry with them because that might make them angry and why should i be angry if i don’t want to be around angry people. and i know that when people are angry with you it’s scary and i don’t want to spook the people i care about. and like, i don’t like people being angry around me, because even if they’re not angry at me specifically they will take it out on me. it’s not safe.

“wronged” as in, like, how jim ghosted on me. or the year craig spent telling me i was “too much” or taking my words out of context and making me look like a real monster to my friends.

she asked why i haven’t told sam directly to cut out the “cute” thing yet since it’s really rustling my jimmies. she said it was really disrespectful and i dunno it felt nice to hear someone else agreeing with me. well, it’s more like, she asked why i haven’t told sam how her words make me feel. i said it’s because it ain’t her business. danielle said that was fair enough.

telling people how their words make you feel is kind of, making yourself vulnerable to a person who literally just hurt you. hey, glad you’ve found my buttons! let me just make myself more vulnerable there for you. is that an easier target now? glad to help. let me know if there’s anything else i can do to make it easier for you to hurt my feelings.

i also mentioned the guy in the discord several weeks ago who went off on me for complaining about past romantic partners, because how *dare* i feel sad for being assaulted, because *he* can’t even get one date! i should be GRATEFUL for the attention!

involving a lot more curse words and insults to my mental faculties and character, of course.

man, i kinda hate having to add that tw tag to my posts because i mentioned something that happened to me. it does affect me though. and it’s better to warn people what they’re getting into. even if i just mention it once.

i felt a little bummed, but also, a little more on both feet mentally/emotionally after i left. i filled out my medical drop form and sent it to danielle to review. then i dicked around on the internet for like an hour while harrison came and sat in the office and dicked around on his phone. we didn’t really talk but we did throw candy at each other for a few minutes.

it’s so hard to show people the stuff i love. i mention it sometimes and if they don’t, like, immediately show interest i drop it forever. oz has been kind about the stuff i recommend. i’m trying to figure out which movie i want to watch with him over my thanksgiving break. i know it’s just an hour and a half or two hours, but it still feels like a huge energy investment.

one time i linked him a music video and he said it was “beautiful” and i was like, “I KNOW RIGHT???”

i’ve remembered that moment for a long time. that was many years ago.

i graded until after 8 and finished one more section. two more to go before i am officially in the clear. then i will only be 2 weeks behind! for those 3 sections each!!! i also uploaded the grades to keep my supervisor posted on my progress a little better, and adjusted some formatting preferences on the excel file to make it easier for me to find stuff right away.

i think my grade averages are maybe the lowest out of my friend group. i’m so concerned about doing right by my students and then i end up being kind of a hardass when it comes to actually taking off points haha... it’ll get curved back up at the end so i’m not too worried. i just feel bad that my students have to look at their 12/20 because i know how demoralizing that is. i think i will send out an email later and offer some resources if i can find any.

the problem is that i had 4 or 5 curve breakers so i couldn’t just scale up everyone’s scores at the end.

anyway once i got home i made a microwave meal because it was like 8:50 and i just wanted food. i did all my dishes and hid some cookies for snoopy and cleaned her litter genie thing since it, uh, malfunctioned the other day and i just didn’t have time to fix it until tonight. and i swept the bathroom afterward so that looks better and doesn’t smell like cat pee.

ok it is six minutes after my “stop writing” time. i would like to get enough sleep tonight for once. i just have a lot on my mind and not much desire to deal with my dreams.

i saw my friends again. i was just watchin em, i couldn’t really interact with the dream at all. they were trying to figure out some deja vu feelings. i couldn’t say anything to them that might help clear it up though. unable to get the message across.

i think keegan asked what kinds of dreams i have that i don’t like sleeping very much. oh i mentioned i don’t like naps because i get horrible nightmares. he asked how i ever sleep then and i said i guess eight hours is long enough for the dreams to calm down. THEN he asked what kinds of dreams i have. i said i dream about my eyes rotting out, or the skin coming off my hands, or blood and gunk just coming out of my mouth in a constant stream. he and harrison said please stop.

i am not sure how to bring up dream friends with them. i mentioned it to suzanne one time on the way to spaghetti day when we were swapping dream concepts. and i am not sure if they are even interesting enough to bring up. i’m not sure what to make of them at all. i guess it makes being awake feel less real. because i’ve met all these people in my dreams and i don’t always remember what i say to them but they feel real to me.

you know, i did bring them up a little bit. i mentioned that i meet a lot of people in my dreams and that most of them are dead now. that prompted a joke about how we are all dead to keegan until he sees us again in the morning. it was funny and it made me feel a little better, but with most of them like, i watched them die. it’s not a matter of “haven’t been in touch.”

i just don’t know how to describe how i feel about the dream guys. it feels dumb to care about something like that when they’re not even real, they’re people i made up in my head. like it’s almost egotistical to pay attention to them or be concerned for their safety. i guess it depends on how you interpret dreams. collective consciousness? random nonsense? processing our day by making random associations? who knows. maybe a little of all of them.

maybe it’s easier for my brain to handle being concerned about people i made up and put into danger myself than it is for my brain to be concerned about me and the problems i make in my own head.

i was talking to keegan and jennica and harrison at our meeting before the proctoring started. we were talking about how we have all adopted keegan’s “that’s no good” whenever we see something we don’t like. harrison joked that that’s how he would introduce keegan to a stranger. then he said he would introduce me to a stranger by saying something like “this is sammie. she’s depressed.”

i guess i felt kinda bad. i said “wow, good to know that depression is my defining character trait. it’s the one thing about me everyone notices!”

maybe the others felt bad too because i don’t think we talked about that much more. it’s hard to remember.

i still say things nic used to say in high school when we dated. like “wow! WOW! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW” is a good one. i think “smooth like sandpaper” is a phrase he picked up from me but we both said it a lot.

people stay with me. even when i don’t want them to. i still make jokes that shade toward stuff craig used to say. i still make jokes that jim really liked. when i caught myself using that old stupid punch line i had to stop and feel kinda sick for a few minutes actually.

i wonder if that’s all that people pick up from me? “this is sammie. she has depression.” i say things that i think are hilarious all the time but i don’t know if other people pick it up. i have like fifteen different words for “angry.” maybe my speech pattern is just odd enough that people don’t really copy me.

i’ve never really talked like a normal person. most of my vocabulary comes from reading. books, internet message boards, video games, international students in high school. i still mispronounce words and i have so much trouble with names that i, like, try to avoid referring to people by name at this point.

danielle said i should try to make myself more vulnerable to my friends. so maybe they can understand me better. and maybe i will understand them better.

but i tried that already. it didn’t work. i’m not stupid. i’m not gonna try something a million times if i know it’s not gonna work.

just kidding, i’m still studying physics. of course i’m gonna beat my head against a wall until either the wall or my head breaks!!!

danielle said she admired how strong i am for continuing to get up and work hard every day. she asked how i was feeling. i said “not very strong.”

it doesn’t feel like strength. it just feels like. boredom. maybe. i don’t know what else to do and i get restless. may as well do stuff.

#tw assault

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