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sunjaesol · 3 years

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“The simple act of being in love with you is enough for me.”

jiara | post-s2 | pining idiots | title: quote by Pacey from Dawson's Creek

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“Kie.”

“Hm?” The girl’s mop of curls obscured her face as she mumbled out some vowels, clearly still buzzed from the night before. An amused smile ticked up his lips and slapped her calf again. She sighed. “What?”

“Leggo,” he pushed, “we gotta get to Pope’s place.”

“Why?”

Even if everyone else would deny it, JJ swore Kie was as bad as he was: slow and fucking lethargic before eleven in the morning. Sure, she had better grades in school, but he wasn’t gonna give her more credit than that. Speaking of, “Helping him with that new scholarship, remember?”

The girl groaned and rolled over to face him, droopy eyes cracking open to scowl at him. She slept where he used to crash whenever his dad’s place became too much, but since the old man fucked off to Yucatán, he found peace in the quiet walls and cracked windows. Regardless, it was weird seeing her sprawled on this mattress, the boy almost able to envision himself beside her. A dangerous fantasy to linger on, so he pushed it aside and kept on trucking.

“C’mon, Kie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered and sat upright. “How did you even get in the Château?”

JJ grinned and snagged a key chain from his shorts. “Spare key. Duh.”

She rolled her eyes, uttering, “John B’s stupid,” and then pushed him out the guest room, telling him she’d get ready. His mouth opened to make the joke if he couldn’t stay and watch, but the door slammed in his face and that was that.

Having a crush on Kiara was the freakiest thing ever. First of all, JJ and emotions didn’t mesh well — it only led to trouble, a perfect example being his dad and him with the most fucked up dynamic to boot. He preferred to not even think about the man, though one glance in the mirror often betrayed his mind and brought a rush of memories to the forefront, whether it was a shiner against his eye, or the fact that he resembled his father when he was young.

So yeah, he didn’t like anything ‘love’ related. It was stupid. It was more reckless than buying a jacuzzi or trying to steal a golden cross from a boat with dozens of armed men. Friendship, however, was easy. He told the Pogues just that: they were ‘it’ for him, he’d go through fire for them, through hell and fucking back.

But he didn’t think he’d actually die for them, which almost happened when he tried saving Kie on the Coastal Venture — to which she ended up saving him. (A vision illuminated by a golden sun, hovering over him. He’d never forget it.)

While he inspected the contents of the fridge, embarrassingly filled with only beer, eggs, milk and junk food, the door creaked open and revealed a dressed and less-wrecked Kiara. His gaze flicked up and down her frame, quick, and then averted it back to the fridge.

“You got no food, man.”

She chuckled. “I know. It’s not exactly The Wreck type of food…”

“You haven’t gone back?”

“Nope,” she replied, curt, and moved past him to shove a container of sausages aside to grab a bottle of almond milk. Even if she wasn’t with her parents, she still somehow kept up her ‘no dairy’ principles.

Also, Kiara was hella beautiful. He hadn’t let it register when she walked in, but it was true. Her soft-looking, shiny skin, sporting the prettiest smile in all of the OBX, and she was just hot. Especially when she propped herself on the kitchen counter, to which he settled beside her to not look at her legs.

“How many scholarships are there?” she asked. “Like, I’m obviously proud of him, but…”

“He told us last night,” JJ laughed. “You were that fucking high?”

She giggled, “Yeah! You were there, I was just on my ass.” And then, quieter, “And… I don’t know, I guess I’ve been kind of distracted.”

He perked up, surprised. Though the Pogues were family, openly talking about emotions when it wasn’t prompted by anything, remained rare. They were better at talking shit and smoking and napping on boats. Whatever, he took the bait.

“Why?”

She shook her head. “It’s stupid, JJ.”

“Kie, you’re talking to me,” he nudged her shoulder, “throw me a bone here. Is it Pope? You got the hots for our favourite nerd again?”

Taking a sip from the bottle, her brow quirked up as though that was the stupidest thing he ever said, and retorted with, “Why’re you always doing that?”

His hands raised instantly, defensive. “Doing what?”

“You’re always digging, like, when I was with Pope you got all weird.”

“I don’t dig.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. Kie, what’s up?” He kept it moving before she found the core of his problem, and bounced back to the original issue. “Before I start saying shit to Pope.”

She scoffed. “You're full of shit.”

“Oh, Kie,” he drawled with a smirk. “You can do better than that.”

Silence fell. He waited, fiddling with his fingers, and quietly hoped Pope wouldn't be too annoyed when they arrived late — then again, they were begrudgingly coined 'tortoise and tortoise' by the group anyway.

She placed the bottle back in the fridge and sent him a rueful smile, one he often saw her showing Sarah before they went aside and had a private talk. Their eyes locked and she finally spoke.

“Sometimes, I… I miss my parents. And it's like, I don't get how they don't just accept that I'm a Pogue, that I'm friends with you guys, you know? But I still miss them.” She looked down at her feet, crossing at the ankles like a little girl waiting to be reprimanded by the teacher. “I miss my dad's hugs.”

Instantly, his arm swung around her for a gentle side hug, a grateful smile pulling on her lips as she leaned into him. Both knew they should savour a moment like this, as hugging with a twitchy JJ and often irritated Kie happened once every blue moon.

Ignoring the guilty look in her eye — yeah, he didn't understand missing a paternal embrace, rather used to a blow in the stomach or a crude remark, but that didn't mean he lacked empathy — he resisted the urge to encourage her to reconnect with them. Knowing her, she'd just close up and glare at him for the rest of the day.

So no, he wasn't going to ask her. And no, she shouldn't feel guilty. P4L 'til the end, baby.

“Thanks, JJ,” she whispered.

He snickered and pushed her off. “You can't tell the guys I'm becoming soft, dude. Theyʼll give me so much shit for it.”

“They know you're soft,” she teased, “don't even try.”

“I'm tough,” he tried.

“Like Play-Doh.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled and motioned at the kitchen door. “Let's go, Carrera. Before John B and Sarah come back and act all married.”

Now that was fucking annoying. After John B and Sarah faked their death, they got married by a bandana strip and hadn't let that notion go after returning. Sure, there was that small blip when they were fighting the crazy religious chick, but that was old news.

John B made him swear he wouldn't tell a soul, but the guy waxed poetry about Sarah whenever they were drunk and alone. It was hilariously sad. Another man lost to a girl.

(“She wants a beach wedding,” JB sighed a couple nights ago. “Nice, right?”

“I– yeah, I really don't care about this, man.”)

JJ knew that when he got a girlfriend (Kiara unintentionally but also very intentionally crossed his mind), he'd act normal. No mushy shit. No poetry. Definitely no creepy Romeo and Juliet references thrown in as if that shouldn't freak the Pogues out. Their behaviour better not be infectious.

Expectedly, Pope's scowl reached them all the way from the car, Kie and JJ sharing a sheepish look before stepping out.

“Gee, guys,” the boy deadpanned, “thanks for making haste. Really appreciate it.”

JJ's wide grin hoped to salvage it. Slapping his friend on the shoulder, he pushed past him and yelled, “Kie was dead, dude!”

Pope grimaced. “Don't joke about that.”

He watched as Kie stopped beside Pope with an apologetic expression, telling him she overslept and was sorry and that he knew how JJ was — “Always joking.”

His chapped lips pursed, a familiar punch hitting his chest with him then pretending it didn't hurt. She always did this. Even if she claimed she didn't, she always took Pope's side. Relationship or not. JJ knew she didn't owe him her 'side', but it'd be a nice change of pace either way.

Whatever. This wasn't the JJ Pining For Kiara Show. Pope needed their help.

A state-wide scholarship competition gave Pope another shot at winning a huge chunk of money (no gold type of rich though) and getting his ass out of OBX, hopefully launching himself into some fancy college when he revealed to be of Denmark Tanny's lineage. Those hibrow assholes loved a good sob story.

All Pope had to do was score hella high on some test — easy — and impress the panel — not so easy — and he'd be the luckiest Pogue of all.

But that did mean Kie and him had to sit on his creaky bed with a freaky amount of flashcards while a stressed out Pope paced around his room. He was pretty sure the floor was eroding.

Also, he had no fucking clue what any of the flashcards meant. Did Pope's smarts really attracted Kie that much? Was it the brain? Brain over brawl? But where was the fun in that? JJ loved Pope to death, but the guy had to be fully medicated or high before his brain shut off and he acted carefree.

“Pope, do you even know what this all means?” Kie bemoaned, flipping the cards around.

“You got a dictionary somewhere?” added JJ, squinting at the word aberration. It sounded like some weird disease. He showed him the word.

Pope dismissed it. “It means: different from the norm.”

“Dude, why not write that then?”

“Because they want aberration.”

He didn't get it. “No one uses it though.”

“JJ, that's just the way it is,” Pope pressed.

“Guys, stop,” Kiara interrupted. “But honestly Pope, it's so, like, elitist. None of these questions are important to the world, or the well-being of the people.”

“Sorry, Kiara, but unfortunately not everyone cares that much,” he sighed. JJ could tell they were starting to annoy their friend, their tortoise bullshit bleeding through.

Her nose scrunched up, peeved. “Right. Because there's a planet B just waiting to be used by us. Duh.”

“Ooh,” JJ drawled, nudging her arm. “Are there donkeys shitting money?”

Kie laughed. “Yes. All beaches, clean air, no Kooks, and money-shitting donkeys.”

“Nah, I want it to be hella Kooky,” he joked, gesturing wildly. “I want a yacht and tell people someone else does my laundry, or something.”

“You don't even do your laundry anyway,” she bounced back with a roll of the eye. “I know you force John B.”

“He's already playing House with Sarah, might as well wash my underwear, too.”

Oh, man. He could do this all day. Talking shit with Kiara went as smooth as fishing for him. Each time he thought he one-upped her, she threw more on top and kept it going 'til neither knew what the point even was anymore. Sarah dubbed it as 'banter' which he believed was a rich way of saying 'talking smack.'

“I don't believe you even know how to do it,” she challenged.

JJ huffed and crossed his arms. “I can do it.”

A smirk bloomed on her lips as she kept jabbing. “It's kinda cute, how you need John B to be your mom.”

“I don't.”

“You literally said it five seconds ago.”

“Guys,” Pope groaned, followed by an exhausted sigh eerily similar to Heyward. “Can we get back to the flashcards?”

Kie and JJ were too far into their discussion though, jabbing at each other at rapid speed. Then she threw her cards at him and all bets were off. He yelled she should make a goal with her hands, to which he folded up a flashcard and shot it straight between her fingers.

And that was when Pope kicked them out. JJ presumed it was a victory they lasted as long as they did. Kie kept apologising over her shoulder, prompting Pope to ask Cleo for help instead.

For a beat, they were silent stepping out of his place and back into the car. JJ felt a stab of guilt for fucking up Pope's study time, but it was hard to dial his brain to school when his friends surrounded him. Just when he wanted to ask if she felt bad too, she went off about the climate — as usual.

“It's so dumb how there were no questions about the environment or human rights or, or anything like that! It's all science and lit, like, there's more to life than fucking chemistry formulas!”

“I skipped those cards. Didn't get them.”

“It's so fucked,” she hummed. “And I'm obviously glad that you drove to the Château to wake me up and all—”

“Yeah?”

“—but I really wish those questions would matter. We almost died, JJ!”

“No, shit,” he grumbled, quickly starting to lose his patience with the ranting girl. She didn't even realise what the fuck she was saying anymore — what she did to his heart, skipping like some elemtary school girl on the playground, when she slipped some nice words in.

“Died!” she pressed. “Why even care about stuff like that?”

“Fucks sake, Kie—”

“And I didn't want to say it, but did you see how many flashcards there were? How many trees were cut for that? It's like, hello, Quizlet exists!”

“Kie, shut up!” he yelled.

Her mouth fell slack, gobsmacked, gawking at him like his interruption was a slap in the face.

Gesturing wildly with one hand, he exclaimed, “You know, you can just go on and on and I hear you talking and it's like, yeah, we get it, Mother Earth needs to be saved, we're fucked, you don't gotta repeat it twenty-four seven.”

“What the hell, JJ!”

“You have an opinion about everything! A man gets tired!”

“A man?” She scoffed. “You're not even eighteen.”

“Point is you don't gotta act all preachy all the time.” He turned the corner, hands tightening around the steering wheel.

Kie scowled. “Where is this coming from? I'm not preachy, I'm educating you.”

Now that was just fucking with his head. Incredulous, he exclaimed, “You think I don't listen? Kie, I'm the only one that does. JB is on Planet Sarah all the damn time and Pope only did shit 'cause—"

"That!” she yelled, throwing her hands up with frustration. “That's what I mean! You're doing it again! You dig!”

“What?!”

“Every time you mention Pope and I, you dig. You needle!” Twisting in her seat, his gaze flickered to catch her disgruntled expression. “Why do you do that? It's so… sus.”

JJ laughed. “Sus?”

“You don't ask John B about Sarah.”

“'Cause they're fucking obvious.”

“Still,” she pressed. “Did I do something to piss you off? Is that it? Is it me constantly asking you to recycle and yet — shocker! — you never do?!”

“Fucking God,” he grumbled under his breath.

With frazzled thoughts and shaking hands, adrenaline coursed through him as he swerved to the side of the road and stopped the car. If he fought with Kie any longer to this degree of fuckery, they were gonna crash.

She frowned. “What're you doing?”

“You, Carrera, are driving me insane,” he deadpanned, matter-of-fact. Then he slammed the door open and stepped out, desperate to catch his breath.

In the back of his mind, he had an inkling as to why he was so keyed up. Kiara would call him a Neandethal, but fuck it, here was the truth: Kiara was hot as hell when she argued with him.

Following his lead, she got out, her sneakers stomping against the asphalt. The sun steeped low on the horizon, the light hitting the hood and reflecting onto her face; her curls shifting from dark brown to gold. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was so fucked. He almost missed the start of her spiel, too enthralled.

“I'm driving you insane? I'm always getting you out of trouble, because you never think things through! You never see the bigger picture!”

He rolled his eyes. “Bigger picture? The only thing I see, Kie, is you going on about nature. That easy.” And then, before he could stop himself, he spewed out, “And you don't have to do that.”

“What?”

“Getting me out of trouble,” he said, pursing his lips. “That's not your responsibility.”

“Right. Duh. Because after everything we've been through, I can't care about you,” she exclaimed, face twisting up in pure fury. She got in his space, shoving his shoulder, but when he didn't budge, it only seemed to anger her more.

JJ didn't know what was going on anymore. Why was she so mad? Even if she didn't want to admit it, he was telling the truth. Of course all the Pogues had each other's back, but Kiara doted over him more than was necessary. The constant checking of injuries, limiting his day drinking, all that. Like he was some child!

He leaned in and mumbled, “I can take care of myself.”

Kie smirked. “Then do your own laundry.”

It happened naturally. One second he stared at her furious eyes and thought about how much he loved arguing with her despite the bullshit, the next his fingers curled into her hair and pulled her in a fierce kiss.

At first, her hands laid frozen on his shoulders, surprised, but the moment he realised his impulsive decision was a mistake, they slid around his neck and kept him close.

JJ sighed in relief and deepened the kiss he'd been craving ever since they were fourteen and Kie went from gangly to statuesque. Her lips were warm and soft and her hands were soft and she hadn't let go and holy shit — he was kissing Kiara Carrera.

The kiss lessened when her mouth quirked into a smile, their grins pressing flush together, and JJ shivered from delight. Oh, man. He was gone.

“You drive me damn crazy, Kie,” he murmured, voice dropped to an undeniably soft tone.

She bit back her silly grin and whispered, “Good.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried focusing up, but all he could do was stare at her face. A shy hand grabbed hers.

He had to get it out of the way now, or else he'd kick himself later. “I'm… really into you. I'm– oh, fuck, uh–”

“Maybe we can talk about it not on the side of the road?” she suggested, amused.

JJ grinned, elated (What was the word he saw on the flashcards? Exalted!), and kissed her again, because he could.

On the ride back to the Château, he confessed to seeing her in a different light for years, while she couldn't really pinpoint a time or moment, that it just happened. It didn't matter, though he was in utter disbelief that he and Kie were having this conversation. No jokes, no BS, all seriousness. Tomorrow, he'd wake up and it wouldn't be some sick dream. Kie liked him back.

JJ was sure he'd doubt himself or overthink it in the future, but today, he'd bask in the certainty and the major ego boost.

“Okay, but did you ever legit like Pope then?”

A sheepish smile crawled up her cheeks as her gaze averted to the window. “I thought I did. But we have, like, no chemistry, so…” She shook her head. “I was confused.”

“That's okay,” he uttered. He couldn't give her shit for it. Even if he did torture himself with their short-lived relationship, he understood.

How would he react though? John B and Sarah wouldn't care, or Cleo, but Pope? He didn't want one of his brothers hating him. Being iced out by the guy fucking sucked, as it meant he was truly hurt and therefore meant JJ truly fucked up. He couldn't handle disappointing him.

Kie read his mind. “He'll be fine with it.”

“I dunno, man…”

“He will,” she repeated. “We're Pogues. We've all narrowly survived death. And besides…” She turned back to him with a secretive grin. “I think he has a thing for Cleo.”

Whoa. He did not see that coming. His brows shot up to his hairline, mentally kicking himself for being so focused on Kie that he didn't even notice the shift of interest between Pope and Cleo. They made sense, too. Know-it-all's, but well-meaning, and only speaking when needed.

If the idea didn't relief him of worries, he'd be concerned as to why they were all seamlessly coupled up like in some 90s sitcom Big John had on VHS.

“What a player,” he joked.

“Tell me about it.”

They arrived at the house, the Twinkie and Sarah's bike sprawled on the overgrown front lawn. JJ frowned. He had hoped to have some alone time with Kie, not to jump her bones and fulfill a regular dream of his, but to talk. To figure it out. He wanted to do this right. Because after everything, they deserved to have good things, to start on a high note — he deserved it.

Kie noticed it, too. Puckering her lips on contemplation, her gaze trailed from him to the rest of the property, ending on the trusty ol' hammock. She jabbed her thumb at it.

“Let's sit there.”

Normally, they laid on opposite ends on the hammock, if they even shared one to begin with. But now, she pressed herself right beside him and he felt like heaven dropped down on them in the best way possible. He suddenly understood what John B was lamenting about — the company, intimacy, the ease. Nerves rippled through his body like a summer storm, but he figured that was what it cost to lose one's mind over a girl.

He didn't know what to say, so Kiara spoke instead.

“I don't want us, the way we are around each other, to change, you know?” she said. “Like, I don't want you to think you have to act like some mellow ass boyfriend all of a sudden.”

He smirked. “Who said anything about boyfriend?”

“Bye.”

“Hey, wait,” he grinned, latching onto her arm before she pushed herself out. “C'mon, Kie.”

Her nose scrunched up. “I don't do this usually, okay?”

“You think I do?” he asked. His hand softly slid down to wrap around hers, to which she hooked their fingers together. Okay. Wow. It felt so damn nice that it propelled him to say, “I wanna be your boyfriend, Kie.”

The girl smiled and then surprised him by leaning in herself, pressing a gentle kiss on his chapped lips. It was overwhelming having her instigate it, his gut twisting up in excitement like when he was about to backflip from a boat, or cliff dive, or something similar like that.

He let go of her hand to cup her cheeks, only to whisper, “That's a yes, yeah? Gotta get a yes.”

“Yes, JJ,” she uttered back. “Here's to not fucking this up.”

“Cheers, baby.”

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#jiara #outer banks #obx #obx fanfiction #otp: cause i'll come #It's messy but in a cute way

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harrygroves · 4 years

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a simple favor -- chapter two

to chapter one

Steve’s apartment is not lived in. The cupboards are practically empty, there’s no grocery list stuck to the fridge -- there isn’t anything on the fridge -- there’s no stray mugs littering the sink. The living room furniture looks like it’s never been sat in. There’s no magazines or books with dog-eared pages. It smells too clean. Almost clinical.

The only remotely off thing is the ashtray out on the small patio, the only sign of life in an otherwise barren space.

Billy doesn’t mention it. He just thinks it’s odd.

Steve is talking, on and on. He’s been going at it for an hour.

They go over the basics -- what’s your full name? Favorite color? Food?

That stuffs easy, for the most part. When they talk about candle scents (seriously, of all fucking things, but Steve thinks it’s important), they get into a ten minute argument about geranium being a distinct enough scent to be considered a favorite. It’s a stupid argument.

Steve likes dark things. Colors, flavors; he drinks dark booze and dark beer. Billy is his polar opposite. They don't have conversations about these things though. Just get the facts. Straight to the point. Steve is writing in a notebook. Billy doesn’t bother.

They talk about their immediate family but it’s a short, awkward affair. Neither of them seem to like their family and don't know much about any cousins or grandparents.

Steve is allergic to cats. Billy hates carrots. When Steve was a kid he wanted to be president. Billy thought he’d be dead by now.

That makes Steve pause.

“Really?” He’s looking at Billy with an unreadable expression.

Billy squirms. “Does it matter?” He asks bitterly.

Steve looks like he wants to say yes, but he doesn’t. He just moves on.

Billy had a rabbit when he was eight. Steve stole a trashy magazine from his dad’s office and got in big trouble for it. Billy likes anything peppermint.

On and on. They talk for hours, stating facts, never digging into stuff, never chiming in with a “hey, I like that too!” It’s an interview, just business.

Steve orders pizza, half pepperoni and sausage, half green pepper, olive, and mushroom.

They stop talking for a little bit and play a few rounds of Mario Kart. Steve smokes him. Billy can’t help but shit talk and try to throw him off but it doesn’t work. Steve’s just that good.

They eat pizza and drink beer out on the patio, smoking and talking.

It doesn’t feel nice. It feels like nothing. Steve diligently takes notes. Billy looks at anything but Steve.

“Gotta piss.” Billy says after another hour passes.

Steve points from his armchair. “It’s through my bedroom.”

Billy gets up and walks down the little hall, slipping into Steve’s room.

He almost misses it. If he’d left the light off, he wouldn’t have seen it.

Steve’s got this dark blue dildo just sitting on his nightstand. Billy has stopped walking and is fucking staring at this thing like he’s about to have a conversation with it. It’s thick, has a bend to it. A few different thoughts run through his head, but -- nope. Not even going there. He snaps out of it and proceeds to the bathroom. He doesn’t care. He just wasn’t...expecting that.

Steve is still staring at the notebook when he returns, seemingly trying to memorize everything Billy told him.

Billy sits down on the couch. “So when did you know you were gay?” He blurts out.

Steve looks up at him, eyes wide and surprised. He’s got the end of the pen in his mouth but removes it when he speaks. “Uh. I don't know. Years ago.”

“Mmm.” Billy hums, shrugging. “I don't know, I figure that might come up. Families are always interested in that shit.”

“When did you know?” Steve asks.

“I guess...around ten? It just made a lot more sense. Girls were cool, but. Guys…”

Steve nods. He gets it.

“You dated a lot of girls in high school.” Steve says after a quiet pause.

“So did you.” Billy retorts.

“Yeah, well. Indiana sucks.” Steve says, looking back down at the notebook.

Billy nods, quiet. “So, you were gay in high school?” He confirms.

Steve looks up at him, and Billy swears his cheeks are a little red. “I guess?!” He’s a little hysterical when he says it.

“Hmm. Interesting.” Billy replies.

“So what? You were too.” Steve says defensively.

It’s out in the open, just sitting there between them.

If they hadn’t fucking hated each other so much. Maybe…

“Did you get with anyone in high school?” Steve blurts out.

Billy shakes his head. “Nah. There were a couple bad hand-jobs from some drunk guys but they always freaked out. We just laughed it off. That kind of shit.”

Steve nods. “I...I slept with someone.”

Billy’s eyes widened. “Really?” He definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

Steve stammers a little. “He -- I mean, it wasn’t someone from. From our school.”

“Oh.” Billy says, but it’s enough to prompt the question.

“It was when we went on that basketball trip.” Steve tells him.

Huh. Billy barely recalls it. They played like shit. He tries to remember Steve but he can’t.

“He was on the other team.” Steve continues. “That was the first time.”

Billy thinks really hard about that trip. They’d never been friends so he doesn’t remember a lot about Steve, other than him being a heinous bitch -- but Billy seems to recall Steve being a little jumpy on that particular trip, looking over his shoulder a lot, talking to some tall guy with dark hair and dark eyes.

“We didn’t stay in touch.” Steve says, like he’s reading Billy’s mind.

“Well, good for you Harrington.” Billy says, giving him a slow clap.

Steve bristles a little. “So, what, are you still a virgin?”

Billy frowns a little. “Do I look like a virgin, ya little bitch?” As if it expands on it, he spreads his legs out a little and throws his arms back on the couch, like a silent well, look at me.

Steve snorts. “I remember you were loud in high school. People like that are usually full of shit.”

What’s happening? Is Steve, like, challenging him? What’s Billy supposed to say? I’ll show you a virgin! What bad drama have they suddenly stumbled into?

“Anyways -- ” Steve interrupts Billy’s thoughts, “ -- it’s been a few hours. Wanna call it quits for the day?” He snaps his notebook shut and puts it on the coffee table.

“That’d be fucking swell.” Billy replies with contempt, looking around for his cigarettes.

Steve’s eye-roll is audible. “You’re the one that brought it up, dude. Don't get pissy with me.”

“Oh fuck off, Harrington.” Billy grabs his pack, gets to his feet and moves towards the door.

“Whatever.” Steve gripes behind him. “Be here tomorrow. Bring a few shirts.”

“Why in the hell do I need a few shirts?” Billy asks, getting his shoes on.

“Cause we need pictures. It needs to look like we’ve been together for a while. So stop being a bitch and just do it.” Steve orders.

Billy sucks on his cheek a little, trying not to tell him to once again, fuck off. “Ya know, you’ve actually got more bite to you then I expected, Harrington.”

Steve moves towards him, forcing Billy out of the apartment. “Gee, what an honor, to be recognized by you, Hargrove.” And then he shuts the door in Billy’s face.

to chapter three

#welp #y'all were so nice so I decided I AM going to write more #send me love #harringrove #my fic #fake dating

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thecringefailintherye · 4 years

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Oliver! (1968) Live (re) watch!

i have already seen oliver!, but not in ages, so i decided to watch it again, enjoy

very long post warning

fuckin hell these opening credits are LONG

i love the fact instrumentals of songs in the movie are playing

i have chocolate popcorn, apple lucozade and oliver! on, life is good

yes i know mark lester is oliver ive seen this like 20 times can i watch the film now

OH ABOUT FUCKING TIME

god is love

IS IT WORTH THE WAITING FOR IF WE LIVE TILL 84 ALL WE EVER GET IS GRUELL

i forgot how much of a banger food glorious food is

LOOK AT BABY MARK LESTER 🥺🥺🥺

ads in middle of movie be like

its harry secombe!

AMENNNN

oliver gets bullied the movie

look at this poor kid

MOREE????????

oh yes oliver i love this song

O L I V E R

poor kid

without any bannister yikes

the one who named him........O-L-IV-ERRR

oh were outside now

olivers just been kicked out oh shit

but on the plus side he has a cute ass hat on

BOY FOR SAY AL

look at oliver 🥺 he deserves better

SOWERBERRY MORE LIKE SHITTERBERRY

theres a severe lack of thats your funeral and i shall scream

noah claypole more like noah clayprick

“perhaps... if i had a tall hat?” BABEY

HES GOT HIS TALL HAT ON YES OLIVER

oliver said dab on them haters from your old gaff youre a funeral advisor now and theyre still homeless

DONT INSULT HIS MUM FUCK YOU NOAH

YES OLIVER KILL HIM

yes stuff the nine year old in a coffin and sit on it well done

"OLIVAH ??" "Yes im here: ((("

ITS MEAT!

oliver deserves better man

im gonna cry and were like 25 minutes in.

ik its not mark singing but whoever it is CAN SING WTF

i want to give him a hug

OH SHIT HES RUNNING AWAY

hes in the lettuce

LONDON YOU MADE IT !

yes oliver trains exist

DODGER!!!

whach you starin at aint ya ever seen a toff

the beak

look at lil jack wild

me more hintimate friends

cockney accent™️

the artful dodga

CONSIDERR YOURSSELF AT HOEME COSNIDER YOURSWLF OEN OF THE FAMILY !!!!!!!!!!

im sorry i love this song

look this scene is awesome, but it would be COMPLETE with charley oh wait he was demoted to extra and everything interesting abt him was given to dodger

he should have gotten the nobody tries to be ladeeda or uppity bit I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL

this cast is BIG

okay i am a Charger Enthusiast but do we all agree there is something oddly homosexual about oliver and dodger in this song

note how dodger is scared of the police FORESHADOWING

ive taken to this SO STRONGITSCLEARWEREGOINGTOGETALONG

how many extras is this ???? yall better be gettin paid

its dodga comin up

this set is sraight out of the book i love it

CHARLEY MATE IM SORRY THEY MADE YOU AN EXTRA

“oh not again” does dodger just always show up with random workhouse kids

ah yes fagin the character whos still a negative jewish stereotype

more and more big cast

THESE SAUSAGES ARE MOULDY! (am i going to freak out whenever charley does anything because i love him? yes)

stfu drink your gin

is this a laundry?? no fam

THE BEST FUCKING SONG IN THIS MUSICAL

IN THIS LIFE ONE THING COUNTS

sorry if i dont add to this until pick a pocket or two is done bc its a straight banger

this song is EVERYTHING

hard at work lol ok

did he make those himself??? no

couple a wipes

EMBROIDERED THEM??? no

petition for all oliver twist adaptations to refer to charley as master bates like the book and for him to have actual lines and not have his actor switched at least three times

i dont even now who charley is at this point because his actor is switched many a time im just gonna say purple blazer kid is charley

anyway charley bates supremacy

whos bill sikes??? NO

fuck bill all my homies hate bill

rum tum tum is a banger

go bed now

take your hat off in bed dodger

movie fagin has rights

fagin leaving where will he go

BET IS THAT YOU

FUCK OFF BILL NO ONE LIKES YOU

NANCY NANCY HES HERE !!!!!! bet deserves everything and more ily 💖

NANCYYYY!!!!!!

its a fine life more like its a banger

wheres all of bets lines gone

bet 🤝 charley (being demoted to extras)

its not funny anyore bet.. bet girl please sing youre the best fucking thing about this song

such a happy song about domestic abuse

THERE SHE IS THATS MY GIRL BET I FUCKING LOVE YOU

bullsye rights!

i hate how this movie made fagin more symathetic but he’s still a “greedy jew” stereotype

oliver?????

at this moment fagin knew he fucked up

nancy you deserve better than bill

oh hi dodger forgot you existed

and the rest of you except oliver

ah yes charley “sausages” bates i missed you

THESE FUCKING KIDS THEY ALL LOVE BET AND NANCY MY HEART

im a regular gent i am. no dodger you arent

why is “permit me to assist you across the road” so fucking funny

pov dodgers back on his bullshit so you have to pretend to be a horse and cart for him

not “sir artful” 😭😭😭

anyfink for youu

WHAT FISTICUFFS???!!!

i feel sorry for the child extras man theyve prob had to film this scene like ten times

THESE KIDS CAN SING

the boys dancing with eachother is too fucking wholesome i love this

again, movie fagin rights

weed riissk lifee and limmbb

you promised we could go see the angin!!!!!

ats on boys time were off

THIS IS MY FAVOURITE SONG

HOW COULD WE LET HOW COULD WE FORGET OUR DEAR OLD FAGIN WORRY!!

mate that aint single file did you not hear him

am i the only one who can hear london bridge is falling down in the back??

our pockets hold a watch of gold that chimes upon the hour!!! a wallet fat an old mans hat!!! the jewels from the tower!!!

WE KNOW THE NOSEY POLICEMEENNNN

dodger and charley (i am SURE charley is purple blazer kid even if havent seen this film in ages) are GETTING INTO THIS

oliver 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

movie fagin rights pt 27238227

DODGER OLIVER COME ON!!!!!!!!! alright dude chill

ARE YALL SEEING THIS SHIT, I WAS RIGHT, I TOLD YOU THAT THE LAD IN THE PURPLE BLAZER WHO SINGS “a wallet fat an old mans hat” WAS CHARLEY BATES AND GUESS WHAT HE FUCKING IS. I WAS RIGHT, PURPLE BLAZER KID IS CHARLEY YOU CAN LEAVE NOW

no dont were only an hour in

three kids on the back of the omnibus what will they do

dodger and charley said be gay do crimes

ah shit now look what youve gotten us into dodger

IT WASNT EVEN OLIVER IT WAS CHARLEY AND DODGER GO AFTER THEM

are dodger and charley straight up framing oliver for a crime they commited while also helping him escape

yes they are why are we surprised

i hate to break it to you dodger but hiding oliver in a meat sack doesnt work

OLIVERS ON THE ROOF????

charley and dodger got oliver into this mess and they are not going to get him out

WHY DIDNT YOU LOOK AFTER HIM????? right calm down fagin

how could i help it :((((

no bill!

stan nancy

“two other boys stole it” no shit

BROWNLOW !

run bitch run

right intermission time now

AND WE’RE BACK!

entr acte

who will buyyy

strawberry girl is carrying this

oliver owns my heart pt 278983728938728

this is a banger wtf

okay its done now right

right?????

UHH BILL???? DODGER???? BITCH WHY TF ARE YOU HERE

have bill fagin nancy and the boys been stalking oliver???

NO SHE WONT FAGIN!

shit.

fuck bill

this scene is far more sadder when you think of how the boys have just seen the only woman they see as a mother figure been hit to the flo or, im not crying, you are

as long as he needs me :(

FUCK YOU BILL

rose maylie is that you?!

look at lil oliver!!

BILL FUCK OFF

i hate bill

“look at his togs! he’s got books too!” charley and dodger are my emotional support kids

anyway have i mentioned i hate bill, bc i hate bill.

I REALLY REALLY HATE BILL

even fagin aka the guy whos keeping these kids as pickpockets has more morals than bill

WE STAY CALM!!

no bill i havent heard a dying chicken

act one was just childish antics now we have THIS

fuck bill

YOURE TELLING ME THE BOYS WATCHED THAT????

jack wild is a banging actor. he genuinely looks terrified 🥺

this film..

a mans got a heart hasnt he?? yes you do!!!

a full song dedicated to movie fagin rights?? did i ghostwrite this?? probably

banger

ithinkidbetterthinkitoutagain!

villains theives and nine year olds

MR BUMBLE?????!!!!!!!!!!

fuck bill pt72898376728909878199

bill youre traumatising him

cmon nance do something!!

also completely forgot abt this but uh does monks exist in this i forgot bc we have had no mentions of him yet

nancy tell him who bill is!!!

bullseye deserves better

uhm what is going on

bill sikes more like bill yikes

oliver what are you doing

BILL TERRIFIES ME

FUCK

omg oom pah pah????

leave oliver alone bill hes like nine

oh banger

OOM PAH PAH THATS HOW IT GOES!!!!!!!!!

just asking are nancy and bet lesbians bc they look it

COULD IT BE OOM PAH PAHHHHHH

god i love this song

IT SHOOOOOWSSSSSS

its the same oom pah pah

“She was from the country but now shes up a gumtree she let a fella feed her then lead her a long” foreshadowiinnggg

OOM PAH PAH! OOM PAH PAH! OOM PAH PAH!

nancy is so fucking smart

getting the whole pub singing and dancing to smuggle out oliver? clever

fuck

bill.. no.. bill.. bill????

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKC

BILL GET OFF HER

NANCY NO

HE STRAIGHT UP COMMIT MURDER AGAINST THE NICEST CHARACTER

BROWNLOW DO YOU NOT HEAR NOTHING

nancy deserved a better death than to be killed by bill fuck bill

EVEN BULLSEYE HATES YOU BILL

ARE THEY ACCUSING BULLSEYE OF MURDER

FUCK YOU BILL

movie fagin rights + fuck bill combo?

youre telling me fagin had an ESCAPE ROUTE??? AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HOUSE THING??? THE WHOLE TIME???

BILL DONT KILL THE CHILD

BILL

fuck, well. #

“WHAT DO I DO!?” “LIVE UP TO YOUR NAME, DODGE ABOUT”

ten quid says dodgers been caught

oh no all fagins shit is gone

BILL DONT KILL THE CHILD PT 2

FUCK YOU BILL

GOD I HATE HIM

OLIVER MATE ARE YOU OK

never have i been so happy to see a character die

rest in shit bill

hi dodger thought you got caught n went to australia

god, this film is so fucking good.

reviewing the situation 2.0 goes hard

MOVIE. FAGIN. RIGHTS!

FAGIN YOU CAN BE A GOOD MAN YOU KNOW YOU CAN

DODGER??????????

IM TOTALLY NOT CRYING RN

FAGIN NO DONT TAKE IT

FUCKING PLOTTWIST

IT MADE IT LOOK LIKE FAGIN WAS GONNA GIVE THE WALLET BACK TO DODGER BUT NO

once the villain you’re the villain to the end

i completely forgot abt this scene since i’ve been reading the oliver twist book and in that dodger gets arrested and fagin gets hanged but here they get away?

god this is bittersweet

I THINK WE’D OUGHT TO THINK IT OUT AGAIN!!!!!

thats where the film should have ended, i get olivers the main character but it ending on dodger and fagin walking out into the sunset is such a pleasing ending man

oliver gets his happy ending abt time

YES CONSIDER YOURSELF AND BE BACK SOON (THE BIGGEST BANGERS IN THE FILM) CREDITS SONGS!!

well.. that was a journey and half

#oliver!#oliver twist #oliver #oliver! 1968 #oliver 1968 #charlie’s comfort movies #oliver twist 1968 #oliver! the musical #oliver the musical #musicals #1960s #1960s movies #60s #mark lester #jack wild #oliver reed #ron moody #shani wallis #and everyone else in the huge ass cast

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rahnesinclair · 3 years

Text

filling the silence

Kate Wallis enters the Monkey Maze to get away from Jeanette, but the disorientation and confusion of the maze triggers an anxiety attack. Luckily, a friend finds her.

Rating: T

Crossposted on AO3

Jeanette had not found her.

Jeanette had not found her because Kate had wound up curled in a corner of the maze, hands over her ears and eyes screwed shut, telling herself again and again that Martin Harris was dead. Dead and gone, not in the maze, not staring at her with accusation in his eyes.

Mallory had found her.

“Shit, Kate?”

Kate didn’t immediately respond. Her eyes were playing tricks on her and she wondered if maybe her ears had begun to do the same. Then a hand touched her shoulder and she flinched away, eliciting more swearing and added apologizing before Kate cracked open an eye to see Mallory’s concerned face swimming in her vision. “I’m so SO sorry, Kate. I thought you were right behind me, I heard Jeanette and thought I should speed up but when I turned around you weren’t there. I didn’t mean to leave you, you gotta believe me!”

Kate didn’t tend to believe anyone anymore so it surprised her that she did believe Mallory. The look of earnest guilt on Mallory’s face was hard to doubt. Mallory kept babbling apologies and Kate uncurled somewhat, eying Mallory with wary curiosity. They’d only talked once but it had been practically the nicest conversation she’d had since escaping Martin.

Kate slowly held out a hand.

Clearly startled, Mallory took it.

Mallory pulled Kate to her feet and together they made their way out of the Monkey Maze. There was no sign of Jeanette as they exited and Kate let Mallory lead her to a quiet bench partially obscured by the side of the Maze.

Kate sat down and ran shaky hands through her hair.

“I know I have a tendency to talk too much but you haven’t said anything yet and I’m starting to freak out a little,” Mallory said as she sat down next to Kate, her gaze skittering from Kate’s pale face to the wider fair as her body blocked Kate mostly from sight. “Oh crap, I broke you. I broke Kate Wallis, of course I did, that is such a “me” thing to do, what a-”

“I’m not broken,” Kate said, a little more snap in her voice than she’d intended.

Mallory actually jumped at Kate’s voice. “Thank God!” Mallory squawked, then abruptly clamped her hands over her mouth.

Kate let out a sharp laugh, her amusement at Mallory’s foot-in-mouth disease momentarily drowning out the panic still constricting her throat.

Mallory, eyes huge with confusion and relief, slowly lowered her hands. “... I really am sorry. What happened? Did Jeanette catch up with you?”

“You really don’t stop talking, huh?” Kate remarked. She realized how mean that was as soon as the words left her mouth and Mallory’s face briefly crumpled. Something about the reaction told Kate she had hit a nerve and she remembered what Mallory had mentioned in Sylvia’s waiting room. “Run-of-the-mill verbal abuse heavy.” “I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” Kate quickly amended, and off the incredulous look Mallory gave her she doubled down. “Really. I’m not always good at filling the silence these days. And there’s a lot of silence. People don’t know what to say to me. Having someone do the heavy lifting is nice.”

“Well I can tell you with one hundred percent honesty I’ve never heard that before,” Mallory said. “Mostly people tell me to shut the hell up. If you really need someone to jabber I’m your girl.”

“Thanks,” Kate said, smiling. “And thank you for trying to help me get away from Jeanette. Don’t feel bad that we got separated, it was a maze. It’s a miracle you found me again.”

“I couldn’t just leave you when it was my idea,” Mallory protested. “It was a stupid idea.”

“No it wasn’t,” Kate said, shaking her head. “Jeanette wasn’t able to find me, it worked.”

“Oh. Then… um, sorry, but why were you-...” Mallory trailed off, gesturing with her hands trying to encourage Kate to fill in the blank. Clearly she felt awkward saying “curled in the fetal position in a fair maze”, which Kate didn’t blame her for.

“... Thought I saw someone. Got freaked out,” Kate answered vaguely as she avoided Mallory’s questioning stare.

“Okay,” Mallory replied. It hadn’t been much of an answer and Mallory clearly wanted to question her more but was holding her tongue. Kate missed the babble.

“Thanks for getting me out before anyone else could find me that way. I would have been pretty embarrassed.”

“No problem. Do you want me to help you find who you were here with? Get you back to them?”

“No I- I’m not with anyone.”

Mallory’s eyebrows shot to the sky. “You aren’t? You’re Kate Wallis.”

“I don’t think that means what you think it means.” Kate smiled ruefully.

“... guess not.”

Kate wondered about Jamie and where he had wandered off too. Perhaps he’d cut his losses and looked for Ben, gone for rides and fuel. Corn dogs! Or maybe Jeanette had made her way out of the Maze to find him and they were kissing now, reveling in the lies Jamie had told and laughing at Kate’s doubt of her own sanity. She wondered about her mom and dad, chaperoning a fair they would have had to sign up to volunteer for months in advance. Did they sign up while she was locked in a basement? Volunteering for a fair that raised money for a school she no longer attended? She wondered about Renee and Tenille, their cackles mixing with the audio of the Monkey Maze, wondered still if they had somehow found her first and left her, stifling giggles as they watched her melt down.

Unfair thoughts. But Kate had come to expect the worst in people and few had proved her wrong since her return.

Except strange, motormouth Mallory, who had come looking for her.

“Um, so, like, I don’t want to leave you alone after that. That would be so uncool of me to do, and anyway I’m pretty done with this lame fair. Maybe… you could come over to mine and we could eat some pizza rolls and try to chill after this shitshow?” Every thought had ended with an upturned note, a question through Mallory’s entire spiel. She looked ready to be shot down and rejected. Still she’d asked, offering Kate somewhere safe to land after her scare. Somewhere to hide from the peering eyes of Skylin as they followed Kate wherever she went.

“Pizza rolls sound good,” Kate replied.

Mallory’s face practically blew a fuse as it lit up so bright, her amazement at the accepted invitation fading fast as she shot to her feet and began to speak. “Awesome! I have two flavors, sausage and pepperoni and ham and cheese, duh you don’t want that one, and we can watch my copy of Dazed and Confused if you’re interested, it might not be your thing-”

Kate hid a smile as she followed Mallory out of the fair, Mallory’s voice a cloud of comfort in a sea of shrieks and calliope music as they left the small word of Skylin behind them.

#My writing #Cruel Summer

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wordsfromthesol · 5 years

Text

Out of Place (1/6)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: Meeting Dick, and the rest of the batboys. You’re confused, since you are nowhere near Bludhaven or Gotham. Some tragedies, some battles, etc. Happy ending because I’m a sap. Warnings: Language, blood and torture and other injuries Word Count: 1.5k A/N: First post ever, I’m almost finished with the story and hope to post the rest soon.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Why you had let yourself stay up until four in the morning was beyond you. Why you thought it was a good idea to start a movie at two in the morning was also a choice you questioned. Alright, it was definitely time to try and sleep. You made your way to the bedroom when suddenly you heard a faint knock at the door. What the hell. It’s 4 am, who is at my fucking door. You grabbed your gun, because whoever it was sure as hell shouldn’t be there. Glancing through the peep hole you see a man clad in a black and blue spandex costume sunken down at your doorstep, covered in blood. Great. You threw the gun onto your kitchen counter and opened the door. Slowly you dragged the man into your kitchen. Fuck, this dude is heavy. Where is all this blood coming from? After finding the zipper to this impossibly tight costume you pulled it down around his waist. A huge cut along his abdomen was revealed. Shit. You ran to the bathroom and gathered all the medical supplies you had. After cleaning the wound, a realization hit you. I’m going to have to sew this. Fuck. You grabbed some string and a sewing needle. This doesn’t feel right. String? Wait! I have fishing line. Granted you used it to hang Halloween decoration, but it should work better than string. Just as soon as you finished sewing up the cut you heard another knock at the door. Police? You cracked the door open, just enough so they couldn’t see the man bleeding out in your kitchen.

“Is there a problem, officers?”

“Well, we were chasing a man. Think he ran this way.” The officer glanced down at the blood on your doormat.

“Strange, I just woke up for my morning workout. I haven’t heard anything.”

“Right…well, let us know if you have. It’s a dangerous place.”

“Will do, thanks officers!”

Officers, yeah right. Your dad had worked in the government since before you were born. You knew the mannerisms of the police. Those two definitely were not police.

Alright, one giant wound down. You glanced at the masked figure. Who knows how many more to go… You noticed a bruise forming on his jawline. At least that one’s an easier fix. You wet all your dish towels and threw them into the freezer. Turning back to the man -- slowly dying in your kitchen -- you began to wipe him down with a washcloth, searching for the source of all this blood. Making your way up to his shoulder, you notice a hole in his skin. Is that a fucking bullet? Alright, blood is coming out of the wound and it doesn’t seem to be near any major arteries. You cringed and plunged your fingers into the wound. The man’s body tensed, but you quickly pulled the bullet out.

“Sorry, sorry. But…that kinda had to come out.” To your surprise, the man slowly nodded at you.

“Wait, wait, you’re awake? Shit. Okay, hang on.” You grab some water, some lovely 800mg ibuprofen you had leftover from when you sprained your ankle, and some melatonin. You shoved the pills into his mouth without even thinking and handed him the water. You didn’t know if the medicine helped or not, but soon the masked man was passed out once again. Alright…guess now we continue. You carefully rolled the man to his side and located another giant gash. Round two. After rolling him back, you noticed more blood. Fuck. You pulled the suit completely off. Great, now I get to stitch up a naked man. Another gash was found on his thigh. You searched once more and cleaned up all the minor scraps. Well, at least the fucker is alive. Opening the freezer, you pulled out a cold dish rag and placed it on the darkening bruise.

You grabbed your deflated air mattress and set it up next to him. After rolling him once more onto the flattened mattress, you plugged it in and inflated the thing. Well at least he will be a little more comfortable. Your mind fought with what to do with the stranger.

Should he sleep in my room? What if he wakes up and tries to kill me? What if he wakes up and freaks out, undoing all of your hard work? What if he needs help in the middle of the night and you can’t hear him because you shoved him in the living room?

You had decided, pulling the air mattress into your bedroom. You laid down in your bed, but the moment was short lived. He soon started thrashing in his sleep. Fuck. You ran over to him and held his wrists. Fuck. He was burning up. Quickly grabbing the rest of the frozen dish towels, you placed them over his body. His head, his stomach, his neck. The nakedness was starting to get to you. Not that he wasn’t ungodly attractive, but you kind of needed to focus. Ha…I got it. Chuckling to yourself, you pulled a lovely fluffy pink robe out of your wardrobe. Carefully, you wrapped him up and threw the blanket to the ground. He was seeming to cool down. Still, you couldn’t move from his side. Suddenly you felt a hand grab yours. Welp, guess I’m sleeping on the floor.

Sleep came in quick spurts, never more than thirty minutes. You were too afraid this stranger was going to die in your bedroom. Finally, you wriggled out of his grasp and went to the kitchen. Nearly 10 am. Fuck. You called into work and claimed to be ill. Turning on the coffee, you decided cooking would best distract you. Sausage, biscuits, gravy, eggs, and pancakes littered the kitchen island.

You sat on the couch and chose a movie to occupy your time. Once you finished eating, you realized that just sitting here was not helping. Turning on your PlayStation, you hoped that occupying your hands would help distract from the dying man in your bedroom.

An hour passed and the masked man slowly walked from your bedroom. Quickly, you got up to help him.

“Uhm…good. You didn’t die in my apartment.”

He glanced around, and then down at your robe. He looked up and raised his eyebrow.

“Oh, that. Well. I had to find out where the blood was coming from. Very clearly, I am not similar to your size…and I didn’t really want to leave you naked.” He nodded silently. You continued, “I made plenty of food. Not sure what you wanted or liked. Anyways…help yourself!”

He slowly made his way into the kitchen. You grabbed a plate and some silverware and placed it by the buffet of food. “Oh, there’s coffee too”, you placed a mug next to the machine. Walking into the living room, you grabbed your own empty mug and filled it to the brim. “Alrighty, so I don’t know if you’re mute or in shock or whatever. But I looked you up last night. Nightwing, huh? Bludhaven? Isn’t that kinda far from here?” He barely acknowledged you were talking as he made his way to the table. Cool, you save this dude’s life and now he’s either refusing to talk to you or he can’t talk to you. You unpaused your game and decided to just give him some space to realize what was going on.

“So…you like superheroes”, he stated as he glanced around the apartment and nodded towards the game you were playing.

Shocked the man had spoken, you turned towards him. “Well…I…FUCK!” The distraction had just led to your character dying.

Chuckling, “Sorry about that.”

Glaring at him, you set the controller down. “So…you can speak. Great.”

“Well, I had to see what you were about. I’m whelmed”

“Whelmed? What we making our own language now?”

Smiling, he grabbed his stomach.

“Right, so you had some pretty bad cuts.” Gesturing on your own body to location of his wounds. “Oh and a gunshot wound here,” tapping your left shoulder. “I stitched you up…not sure if I did it right, all I had was fishing line…” Trailing off you heard a faint laugh emerge from the man’s mouth.

“Fishing line…that’s actually pretty smart.”

“Okay, well. If you aren’t going to die on me, I’m going to run to the store. You clearly need clothes other than the spandex, and I’m going to need more medical supplies to fix you up. Sizes?” You grabbed your purse and keys and headed for the front door.

“Oh…and don’t snoop through my shit” You called out as you walked out.

You tried to be as quick as possible, you did not like the fact that this masked vigilante was alone in your apartment. Shit, you idiot. You thought as you remembered you left your gun on the coffee table.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #batboys imagine #batboys x reader #nightwing x read #nightwing imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #nighwing x reader

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bugdotpng · 4 years

Text

i feel like i....never really talked abt my april surgery last year actually? it was a shitshow from start to finish ghdfljksk

cw: lots of blood talk, stitches, operations, etc.

this was probably...one of the more “traumatizing” post-op experiences...apparently something similar happened when i was younger but the drugs always fucked me up so i thankfully don’t remember much but now i’m old and dense and the drugs don’t hit like they used to (which is...honestly a good thing) so i remember.....everything from april....

long story short (who am i kidding this is going to take forever) i have to drive to houston for my surgeries (which is abt 2-ish hours from my hometown where i’d be doing recovery) so we often stop halfway at our usual pit stop so i don’t get blood clots (since all my surgeries are of the podiatric variety). my mom tells my dad she’s gonna go inside to run to the bathroom then get things ready for me, so he should wait in the car with me. she leaves. i’m obstinate and drugged. i insist that we go inside. my dad is like “well if you insist” and helps me inside on my crutches. the fact i can use my crutches so effectively while i’m stupid drugged honestly amazes me

idk how to explain this place...it’s a smokehouse so you can buy meats n stuff but you can also get sandwiches and pastries...i guess it’s like a small bucee’s, but there’s places to sit down and eat (which is why we like to go there; plenty of room for me prop my leg up and eat a sausage roll). anyway we make it a few steps past the cash registers and my dad goes on ahead to go get me a table. two men stop me and go “oh my god, are you okay?” and i’m just kinda like “uuuuh yeah?” “you’re bleeding!” and my dumb drugged ass starts looking at my arms like “oh shit did i cut myself on something?” and that’s when my dad comes over and practically faints (blood/barf/etc. makes him very queasy) because there’s a trail of blood behind me and it’s like...gushing out of my wrap LMAO so he takes me to a table and props up my foot, my mom comes over, they freak out, call my surgeon, everyone’s afraid i popped a stitch, we’re an hour from the dr office, 1:30 from the surgery center, my parents are trying to figure out how to facetime with my surgeon and show her my blood soaked bandages, it keeps dropping calls bc we’re in bumfuck, texas and they eventually decide we should drive all the way back to houston so she can check things out.

they unwrap me, inspect and tighten a few of my (very fresh) stitches, but ultimately they’re all fine, no popping....they stab me with a numbing shot (horribly painful) since my pain meds wore off and send me on my merry way. we think what ended up happening was that i stood up too fast. usually my mom helps me get out of the car and does it really slowly but my dad and i are very similar and just fuckin...bolted inside ghsdlfkjdsk i don’t fault him but he feels awful ghdflksj

THEN my incisions end up having trouble healing (assuming bc they got all fucked around that day) and i have to wait longer than usual to get them removed (not a huge deal but i basically can’t go anywhere until i get my stitches out since they were so close to the wrap opening so it was rly inconvenient). i end up getting put on a second round of antibiotics bc i still technically have an open wound. and for some moronic reason my horribly dumb ass thinks this is a good time to start my fucking zoloft prescription that was prescribed before this all happened. told my doc i didn’t wanna start em during surgery stuff bc i didn’t want that affecting how i felt. at this point it’s maybe 3-ish weeks post-op, so i thought that’d be a good time to start. for some reason.

thankfully my mom is staying with me up at my apartment to help me adjust to post-op life and i take my zoloft before bed. bolt awake at 3am in a cold sweat, my heart is racing, i feel like i’m having a panic attack. i figure out how to stand up (hard to do when non-weight-bearing) and hobble to the bathroom. the whole time i’ve got bad vertigo. my pupils are blown out so bad my eyes look black. i have full-body goosebumps, i feel like i’m gonna barf outta both ends, and i feel like there’s something in every corner that’s watching me and about to kill me lmao. mom and i eventually figure out i’m experiencing serotonin syndrome, but thankfully not bad enough that i had to go to the emergency room. it was certainly touch and go for a while, but once we knew what it was, we felt a little better. i tried to go back to bed but i just stared at the ceiling all night. got a little bit of sleep. woke up the next day in a horrible fog. my heart was still racing. i somehow still fucking went to work.

ANYWAY that was my april surgery :^) once i got my stitches taken out i actually healed pretty okay and it’s been fairly uneventful since then. my next surgery was actually less intense and i had a horrible recovery so i think the april recovery was like....an apology for going through the whole stitches incident ghlsdfkjdks

#bug.txt #hm. this was fun to write but afterward i feel like i banged my head into a wall and then threw up

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bohemiansweede · 5 years

Text

The Caregiver

Fanfic

Pairing Roger Taylor Reader

Warnings Smut 🔞

Agegap

A/N Please like and reblog or if you want leave a comment

Thank You

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

- Oh Thank you so much Y/N, Mrs Lewis is my last one for the day but I really have to...

- It's ok Linda, I cover up for you, honestly.. It is ok.

I was so nice to everyone that I often forgot about myself, tonight it was my turn to cook on the chelter and before that my laundry really had to get organised... And the dishes, omg... Well it seamed that I had to do that one another night..

- You are such a rock Y/N.. How can I ever thank you? Mrs Lewis is a sweet old lady, you just have to be there on time and shop after her list, otherwise no problem.. Oh.. Right.. Almost forgot.. The bus.. Make sure you time it in.. It runs just once in an hour

- Ok, got it.. Have a nice dinner now.. Don't think about me, I smiled little sarcastic and headed out towards the bus stop

Jeez.. Well... I had nothing against helping people, the opposite frankly, I loved it, but it was a loooong time since I gaved myself some me time... And by that I should probably mention that it was about time that I had a good lay too..

With a cringy noise and a sigh, the bus stopped right by my feet

I asked the driver just in case where the closest stop was to the grocery store

The list was not that long but she was very specific what she wanted, down to the exact pound of cheese the special sausage at the butcher, her favourite olive oil, etc etc

I went in at butchers first and took it of the list, next was the post-office, I sighed.. There were tons of people inside and I just needed a few stamps for the letters. Just the thought of the fucking bus me freaked out.. Perhaps I should take the groceries first..

I went out again, it was a good choise to take my coat because it was cold today, but I still wore the shorter skirt from the lunch with Linda and that I regretted now

I grabbed a basket in the store and started to fill it.. The note was slightly wrinkled and it was little hard to see.. Usually I didn't have any problems with my eyes but..

- Ohh.. I.. ohh.. sorry..

I fell forward on my knees and almost grabbed a strangers legs

- Are you alright miss?

He reached out his hand

I looked up and saw straight up in a pair of gentle blue eyes

- Typical me... Ms Clumpsy..

I picked up the list from the floor which now also was dirty and wet

- Shopping for Mrs Lewis?

Guess she was well known

I brushed my knees of and took the basket which he had picked up from the floor

- Thank you, ehh.. yes.. Yes I am

- You better not be late then

He smiled and winked at me

I just stood and stared after him like my feets were glued to the floor, he was the most attractive man that I ever seen, maybe in his late 40's, the hair had just begun to turn grey and he had wrinkles around his eyes when he... Fuck.. The bus...

I sped up and went from isle to isle and grabbed my things.. There.. Just the olive oil then..

Of course on the top shelf

- Hello again.. Let me get that one for you dear

- Ohh.. H.. Hi..

My heart skipped a beat

He was soooo handsome and.. Yes... Hot.. Could I say a man in my dad's age was hot?

- We have to stop meeting like this.. I'm Roger

I took his warm strong hand in mine, wonder if he was married.. kids

- Y/N

When the olive oil was in the basket I went to the cashier, I had pretty good time.. Until I froze...

- Shit...

I grabbed the stuff and ran out, the post office was still occupied with people and the bus would leave in 10...

- Fuck...

The little kind old lady would turn into a witch.. A monster or maybe worse...

A car pulled in next to me, and when the window went down I saw him...

- Looks like you need a ride love.., did you miss the bus?

How happy I was to see this man right yet again

He asked if I was new at this job, and I explained that it was not even my job, he said he was sure of that Mrs Lewis was going to be satisfied with me anyway and I didn't have to worry

- I wait in the car while you go in to her

- But.. The bus stop is...

- No, I don't want to hear it... I am right here ok?

I don't think Linda or anyone had delivered groceries that fast before, I even managed to borrow her phone to cancel the chelter dinner... I had totally different things in mind

- Y/N.. I.. I was wondering if you wanted a cup of coffee?

- Coffee?

I didn't want to laugh but he sounded so cute and little nervous

- Yeah.. I.. Well.. There is not much coffeeshops around here and and.. Ehh.. Well.. Damn... Thing is.. I can literally be your dad.. but..

I silenced him with my finger on his lips, he swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath

Then I could not hold it anymore, he was like gasoline on my body that had cached fire, I crashed my lips onto his and at once he opened his mouth and met my tongue, I moaned in his mouth and his fingers tangeled in my hair

- Ro.. Roger.. Let's go... home

- Mmmmm... I would love to.. But... You have let go of my shift gear hunnie...

We both laughed, the situation was kinda weird brutal.. comic.. sexy

His lips was still burning on mine, I couldn't stop looking at him now and then during the drive

He did a slight left turn up on a gravel road and I saw a huge mansion

- You live.. He.. here?

- Yea.. I do.. Every other week I am alone..

There was my answer, divorced.. kids

He stopped the car right outside the door and gaved my knee a gentle squeeze

- You don't change your mind dear?

- No... Not a chance...

He grabbed his bags and went straight the kitchen

I was totally amazed by the fireplace and how beautiful everything was.. Really tastefully decorated..

I suddenly felt his strong arms around me..

He kissed my hair and my neck and his warm breath made my skin prickle with tiny dots

- You are so beautiful hunnie.. so young.. Almost untouched..

- I am n..

- Ssscchhh... I want to discover you... It is MY first time with you..

He took my hand and I followed him upstairs into the bedroom

We stod across eachother and my heart was beating so hard that he must have heard it

He cupped my face with his big hands and kissed me, the kiss was more passionate yet hungry

I tried to unbutton his shirt but I just fumbled, he noticed what I was doing so he took over

- Let me take care of you now darling... It is your turn to relax

He did not know how right he had

As he enjoyed every moment, he took his time undressing me and exploring my body, he was so different, he was a gentleman he was older.. he knew what he was doing..

Every inch of me was covered by tiny tiny kisses and nibbles

- Roger.. I whimpered.. please..

- I know I know.. Soon...

I could not hold it anymore and he knew it, he kissed the sensitive skin above my breasts while he cupped them, I felt how hard he was towards my leg and he groaned a little when he finally circled my nipple with his tongue

- Ahhhh God ... Ohhh ..

It felt like electricity in my whole body, I grabbed his head and even if it felt so good what he was doing I needed more, I pushed his head down.. further down.. to my dripping core

He looked up at me and gaved me a mischievous smirk

That totally changed everything

He grabbed a pillow from next to me and tucked it under my butt, then he grabbed my thighs and pushed my legs wide apart

He took his palms under my ass so I opened up more for him, this man was an oral expert.. Shit... He sloppy kissed my pussy and dragged his flattened tounge up and down along my folds, I arched my back and tried to grab the sheets but he pinned me down

He then circled my clit so fast that my eyes rolled back in my head he sucked it in his mouth almost nibbled on it

- Ahhh shit Rog Fuck... Ahhhh damnit..

He continued to lick with a rapid pace and it was not long until my walls started to collapse

- Shit Omg I... Iam... Ahhhh Gooood... Ahhhh

I squirted on his tounge and he was quick to drink the full amount of me

- Mmm... You taste delicious mmm...

- Omg.. It was... Do you want me to...

- No... I said I wanted to take care of you...

He smirked and kissed his all the way up to my lips again..

- Now.. I didn't exactly plan this.. Are you...

He frowned a bit

- Yes, I am safe, I am on the pill..

- Glad you said that... Cause cannot fuckin wait any longer

I felt how his erected cock trailed near my entrance, after the tip was inside me it just took a few seconds for me to adjust to his size

- Omg hunnie, you feel so fuckin amazing.. Shit..

His head fell back and his pace increased, his hips snapped and I bucked my body up to meet his

- Ohhh Roger... Fuck.. Ahhh... Harder... Harder... Ohhh...

He took a grip on the bed frame and the other one he teared apart the sheets, sweat was dripping from his forehead down on my neck

I felt that he was close and I was not far behind myself

With almost pornographic sounds we came undone together, he emptied himself deep inside of me and my final contractions maked sure there was nothing left

- Ohh God.. You were amazing.. Truly amazing...

- Roger... Wow.. I... I have no words...

- Not so bad for an ol...

I smacked his upper arm

- Don't say it...

We laid tangled together for a bit, I could sense that he was thinking of something

- Are you sure you don't know who I am love?

I froze a little, what have I missed

- Should I... I mean... I am not from here...

He chuckled a little..

- Well... I don’t know if I should be honoured or nervous.. It was long time ago since nobody didn't know who I was

I was even more confused

Well... He was in late 40s.. Maybe he had put on some weight?... Hair.. Was it the hair? The glasses?

- I am hungry love, do you want something to eat?

- Sure.. OK...

He kissed me softly and he gaved me a bathrobe that I could borrow

I took a glimpse in the mirror.. I looked totally fucked, and I was.. but I happy too.. There could absolutely be something with this guy whoever he was.. Politics? No..

And kids? Fine.. As long as it is ok with the ex...

I bounced downstairs and heard him hum on something for himself in the kitchen

On the way there I passed a big wall... A wall full of gold disc's platinum records...

WOW... Really...

I palmed my forehead and did an eyeroll.. I had totally missed out that it was him

In the corner of my eye I saw that he was watching me and he walked in my direction

- I... I'm sorry... I didn't tell you

- And I'm sorry I didn't recognise you...

- Sssscchhh... You know what.. Mrs Lewis doesn't know either..

He kissed me softly

- So.. are you staying?

- I am not leaving.. Well.. Maybe just for posting a letter

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

Enjoy more reading in my

#Roger taylor #Agegap #roger meddows taylor #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #Queen #queendom #queen band #queen smut #90s roger taylor #Fanfic #Smut

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notalwaysthevillian · 5 years

Text

Parent Trapped

Warnings: Anxiety attack, food mention, arguing

Pairings: Eventual Romantic Remile, platonic LAMP

Word Count: ~2k

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

Chapter 3: Dinner

Patton found Virgil outside, hidden against the wall behind a few bushes. He didn’t say a word, just sitting next to his brother and tapping his toes in a 4-7-8 rhythm on the ground. He waited, knowing it was better to let Virgil talk first.

“I do want to sleep over.” Virgil said, his voice sounding a little rough. “But there’s so many what ifs, and...I don’t want to chicken out. Not like last time.”

“I don’t think Roman or Logan would care if you chickened out.” Patton said, squeezing his brother’s hand. “They aren’t like...they aren’t like the kids at our old school.”

“You don’t know that.”

Patton took in a deep breath, hearing Virgil do the same. “I don’t. But what I do know is that they’re certainly a lot nicer than those kids. And that’s already a big improvement.”

“Yeah.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, the gears turning in Patton’s head. A lightbulb went off and he jumped to his feet. “I know! What if we have dinner at their place first? We can even bring Dad, I’m sure he’d want to meet their dad. And then you can see what their house is like.”

“That’s a really good idea.” Standing up, Virgil stretched. Patton winced at the pops that came from his spine. “I should probably go tell them why I took off like I did.”

“No need.”

Virgil jumped at the voice, moving behind Patton instinctively.

Roman bit his lip. “Sorry. But you don’t need to explain. Not if you don’t want to.”

“How much of that did you hear?” Virgil asked, a slight edge to his voice.

“Just the last bit, about you telling us.” Logan said. “I have a few theories, but any of them could be correct.”

“I have anxiety!” Virgil blurted out, closing his eyes. He braced himself for the teasing that would follow.

“Theory number one then.”

Virgil opened his eyes to see Roman push his hair back. “If you’re too anxious to spend the night, we get it. Especially with everything that’s changed recently for you guys. New house, new school, new friends.”

“You...you’re not going to make fun of me?” Virgil asked, mentally cursing himself when he heard the waver in his voice.

Logan blinked at him. “Why would we do that? Anxiety disorders are coming out more and more in today’s teenagers because of various stressors. You’re certainly not the only one to have anxiety in the school.”

Virgil bit back a laugh. Logan definitely didn’t do comfort like Patton, but he did it in his own way. And knowing the facts - that he wasn’t alone - really did help.

“Do you think maybe instead of a sleepover, we can do dinner instead?” Patton asked. “It would help Virgil if he’d at least been to your house before.”

Before Patton was fully done speaking, Roman already had his phone out and was texting. “Dad should be fine with - okay, he already texted me back. He’s cool with it.”

“Can we bring our dad?” Virgil bit his lip. “If that’s not okay -”

Ding! “Dad says it’s okay.”

“Great!”

The bell rang and the four of them headed off to their classes. Roman and Patton walked off together, heading for the gym.

“How long has he had anxiety?” Roman kept his voice low. He knew that it was a sensitive topic and he didn’t want anyone else to hear and go bully Virgil. Not that he would let that happen.

Patton sighed as they walked. “Ever since we were kids. It was hard for Dad when we were growing up. Virgil has always been timid. And Dad had to send us to daycare when we were little, so you can imagine how stressful it was for him. And middle school was...hard.”

Roman looked at Patton, hoping he’d elaborate. But Patton’s lips remained zipped tight on what might have happened during their middle school years.

Putting a hand on Patton’s shoulder, Roman gave him a smile. “Nobody will bully him here. Not if I can help it.”

“Thanks, Ro.”

The nickname through Roman off guard for a moment, but he recovered quickly enough. “Ro. I like that.”

Soon enough, school was over. The twins headed home, waving to the Sanders’ as they got into their dad’s car.

“I’m glad you made friends.” Emile said, also waving at the boys.

Virgil nudged Patton, looking toward the front seat. “Dad! Ro and Logan invited us to a sleepover tonight, but Virgil was anxious about it, so instead we’re having dinner at their house and you’re invited.”

“Okay, let me see if I heard you right.” Emile said after Patton stopped to breathe. “Your friends invited you to their house for a sleepover. Virgil panicked because he doesn’t know them very well. Now you’re having dinner instead and I’m going too?”

“Yep!”

“Alright!” Emile laughed. “That’s for the best, I didn’t exactly have a dinner plan.”

As soon as they got home, Virgil darted up to his room. Patton exchanged a glance with Emile before following.

“V?”

Virgil was tearing through his closet, throwing most of his clothes on the floor. “What do I wear to this? I want their dad to like me, what if he doesn’t like me?”

Patton put a hand on Virgil’s back, putting just enough pressure. “Virgil, take a deep breath for me.”

Virgil did as Patton asked, Patton feeling his body move as he breathed in and out.

“I know you want to make a good impression, but you also want to be you.” Patton explained, pulling a black hoodie off a hanger and handing it over. “Wear what you would normally wear. If their dad is anything like them, he’ll like you for you.”

Virgil nodded, slipping his hoodie on. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil started shoving Patton out of his room. Laughing, Patton took the hint and left, letting Virgil shut and lock the door behind him.

At five thirty on the dot, the Picanis pulled into the Sanders’ driveway. Virgil was half hiding in his hoodie, his headphones slid down around his neck. Patton tapped him on the shoulder and crossed his eyes, getting a laugh out of the darker twin.

Emile headed up the porch and knocked on the door. After a moment, the door opened and Emile let out a gasp.

“You! I saw you at the grocery store a few days ago.”

Flipping up his sunglasses, Mr. Sanders smirked. “Oh yeah. You’re the one who let me in front of you.”

“Let - nevermind.” Emile held out his hand, hearing his boys walk up behind him. “I’m Emile Picani, and these are my sons Virgil and Patton.”

“Remy. This is Roman and that’s Logan.” Remy said, pointing to each son. A loud beeping started in the kitchen, causing him to curse and dart off.

Patton and Emile gasped at the language. Virgil brushed past them into the house, heading off with Logan to see his room.

“Oh! Yeah, Pat come see my room!” Roman grabbed Patton’s hand and dragged him down the hall.

Emile followed to where Remy had disappeared, listening to the smoke alarm and following the incessant beeping. While Remy grabbed something out of the oven, Emile opened up a window and turned on the stove hood.

“Thanks.” Remy said, dropping the tray on trivet.

Emile wasn’t quite sure what was on the tray at first. He couldn’t really see it through the smoke. Waving his hand and the smoke away, he was able to see that it was a pizza. Or, what was meant to be a pizza.

“Shit.”

“You shouldn’t use that language around your kids.” Emile said, biting his tongue immediately. “Sorry, I shouldn’t tell you how to parent.”

“You shouldn’t.” There was no malice in Remy’s voice, but there was a flash of something in his eyes. “Two things, Babes. They’re not in the room, and I’m sure they hear that language at school anyway. You can’t smother them.”

“I don’t -” Emile started to snap, before he took a deep breath. “Nevermind.”

Leaning against the counter, Remy pulled out his phone. “Guess we’re ordering pizza instead. Any qualms about that?”

Emile bit his tongue. There was something about this guy that got under his skin, but he was going to be the bigger man and not rise to the bait.

The smirk on Remy’s face revealed that he knew exactly what he was doing. “Do you know your kids favorite types of pizza?”

“Pepperoni and sausage.”

“Got it.” Remy waited for a moment before Emile heard someone answer the phone. “Hey Nellie, it’s Rem. Yeah, our usual plus one pepperoni and one sausage. Send Gerald if you can, he hasn’t seen the boys for a while. Thanks, Babes. Bye.”

“They know you well I assume?” Emile gestured to the no longer smoking husk of a pizza on the counter.

“I may not be able to cook, but I do try.” Remy slid his phone into his back pocket, leaning his arms on the island. “Let me guess, Mr. Perfect, you can cook any recipe you lay your eyes on and it always turns out well?”

“Wow, you guys are getting along great.”

The dads jumped at the voice, turning to find all of their kids standing in the entry to the kitchen. Logan stood in the front, raising an eyebrow. Virgil was practically plastered to Patton’s back, worry clear in his eyes.

“Why don’t you guys set up a movie in the living room?” Remy asked, looking at Logan. “Em and I are going to talk through this.”

“Dad’s great at that! He’s a therapist.” Patton chimed in, before he was whisked away with the other boys.

“A therapist.”

Emile let out a sigh. “Okay, it’s clear that our parenting styles are very different. But we shouldn’t allow that to get in the way of our kids being friends.”

“Agreed.” Remy glanced at the doorway for a second, before dropping his voice. “Virgil looked really upset. What’s going on there?”

“He has really bad anxiety.” Emile rubbed at his eyes, allowing his mask to drop for a moment. “He’s terrified to take meds for it so the poor kid just lives with it.”

“Crunch ‘em up, throw them in his food.” The horrified look Emile gave him had Remy backtracking immediately. “Right. Different styles. Uh, maybe explain how it would be good for him? He’s probably freaked out about the bad things they’ll do to him.”

Before Emile could respond, there was a chorus of “DAD!” from the living room. They laughed before heading to their kids.

Once the movie was turned on, Emile couldn’t help but notice how their kids interacted with each other. Roman and Virgil quietly bickered over the meanings of The Little Mermaid. Patton kept them from fighting too much. And Logan backed up both sides of the argument with facts.

By the end of the movie, Virgil was sitting by himself in an armchair, done with physical touch for the day. Patton was used to it and left him alone. But even though Roman and Logan didn’t know much about Virgil’s problems, they let him be.

As the credits rolled, Virgil and Patton headed out to the car. Roman and Logan cleaned up the kitchen, leaving the adults in the foyer.

“They’re so good with each other.” Emile said as he slipped on his shoes.

“It’s the first time in a while that Logan has brought home a friend.” Remy said, watching his boys clean up from where he was standing. “One that he actually likes.”

Emile stood, holding out a hand. “We need to be civil. For them.”

Remy shook his hand. “Agreed.”

#platonic lamp #platonic moxiety #platonic logince #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts sleep #remy sanders #emile picani

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expression-in-its-essence · 5 years

Text

The Goldfinch movie.

7 min 26 secs in : Why the fuck did they start the movie like that. Why didn't the explosion take place? Theo's mom's apartment? His anxiety? Also.. why do they keep cutting the scenes abruptly? They ain't tweets... No limit.. then??

8 min 2 sec in : Okay they went to the apartment. Audrey's sweater deserved more screen time. The lipstain on the mug in focus *chef's kiss* poetic cinema!

9 min 19 sec in : Do you see what I see? Tom Cable's face has a stark resemblance to Boris's face. Did Theo have a crush on him?

9 min 54 sec in : Mr Barbour's hand is shaking. I like that they put it in there. He was sick. Nice. (I'd imagined Audrey's apartment building entrance like they showed the Barbour's apartment building entrance. Wild.)

11 min 8 sec in : Don't shove it into his face that y'all are fancy okay? He's not used to that life style. He didn't have maids making his bed. ARE YOU GIVING HIM DRUGS, MRS BARBOUR? But you just glared at your husband for offering him the same sort of thing?? Oh God. Poor child. "it's perfectly understandable" my ass. You gave him meds just because your sleep was getting affected.

14 min 39 sec : Woah woah woah Theo wtf you're so smol how'd you do that? Also... Again. The frame of Theo and Tom standing close and Theo and Boris standing close when they kissed, Theo is wearing the same damn sweater.

16 min 58 sec in : Ayyyy Jeffery Wright!

20 min 33 sec in : "He drank a lot", Theo about his dad. Honey just wait up, you will too. (The grilled sandwich and the cute lil smile 😍 also this is the first time since the movie started that Oakes' voice isn't deep.)

23 min 54 sec in : Wizard of Oz poster, I see you!

24 min 19 sec in : I love how Oakes is expressing being caught off guard. Theo knows he did something bad and every time he's dealing with something he didn't expect to deal with, he's like OMG THEY KNOW ABOUT THE PAINTING AND IM FUCKED even if no one knows.

25 min 1 sec in : The glasses made a difference. He went from mature to cute. Angry bird to angry birb.

25 min 44 sec in : Another sweater? Or was this THE sweater of Audrey? (Off topic but Oakes is hella cute. I could murder anyone who hurts him.)

29 min 9 sec in : Pippa doesn't remember or doesn't wanna remember? There was something in her eyes that was hard to read. Also, why doesn't anyone say 'I'm sorry about your mom' to Theo? Do Americans not care? It's weird to see no response when he tells people that Audrey is dead.

31 min 17 sec in : "The Goldfinch, destroyed"? Then why is Theo upset. Good riddance. Oh yeah. I know why. It's Donna Tartt we're talking about.

32 min 39 sec in : Hobie just casually predicting the future. "It's only fake if you pass it on as an original". Theo's like, "noted, gonna do exactly that".

34 min 16 sec in : Why does Theo write like a five year old child? That's toddler handwriting! And omg all the Andy-prom-dress memes are making sense now. (Also did I mention that Mrs Barbour seems more selfish in the film than she does in the book. Like hey I'm putting up with this kid because he helps my kid. He's serving a purpose for me. What the hell.) (How old is Andy anyway? He looks younger than Theo. I think he's different. Didn't grow up like other kids. That was mentioned in the book right?)

35 min 20 sec in : Ayyy Hobie's earring!

35 min 49 sec in : He shopped for himself? Nice! Didn't know kids could shop without adult supervision in the West. (Because they can't in the East.)

35 min 50 sec in : Ayyyy Sarah Paulson! Damn she's hot. How can you dislike her? *heart eyes*

37 min 30 sec in : I can't bring myself to hate Luke Wilson since Skeleton Twins but SHUT THE FUCK UP LARRY! AUDREY DESERVED BETTER. Look at how Larry and Xandra are looking at the place like they're vultures.

39 min 34 sec : They got the airport scene right. STOP GIVING HIM DRUGS WTH IS WRONG WITH THE ADULTS IN THIS MOVIE!

41 min 12 sec in : Ayyy Popper!!!!!

43 min 27 sec in : It just dawned on Theo that he's alone. Oh god. My poor baby.

45 min 12 sec in : Let me take this moment to say that Ashleigh Cummings is pretty. And I finally get why y'all were pissed at the non linear storyline and the weird voiceovers. Guess I'd been prepared for that so it didn't really suck that much.

49 min 30 sec in : I'd imagined Boreo reunion like the Platt Theo reunion. In the day. Dang it. Also... Adult Platt Barbour was not supposed to be good looking? In the book?

55 min 34 sec in : Without context, none of it could make sense. Apologies to whoever didn't read the book beforehand. Crowley fucked this up.

58 min in : Ayyyy Finn Wolfhard! BORIS IS HERE AND IM SO EXCITED IDK WHY

1 hour in : It's such a Boris thing to leave the bag unzipped.

1 hour 3 min 20 sec in : Slumdog Millionaire's Jai Ho (2008) is playing in the background. The only song that I've recognized so far. Wow. Lets me know about the time setting. Nice.

1 hr 3 min in : Someone gif " That cost twenty dollars!" *Stare* "That would have cost twenty dollars!"

1 hr 8 min in : So Boris's room is exactly like I had imagined but Theo's room isn't. Boris just mentioned Kotku though.

1 hr 9 min 14 sec in : Isn't it hella hot in Vegas? Why are they wearing sweaters? Or does drug intake make you more vulnerable to the environment?

1 hr 10 min 15 sec in : Xandra Theo argument : gold. "Cocktail sausages that you like." I wanna laugh in Crowley's face. What was he thinking?? Omg I'm dying.

1 hr 11 min 17 sec in : The slap sound didn't work??

1 hr 13 min 53 sec in : I like serious Boris better.

1 hr 14 min in : The slum house Audrey dream thing was not in the book. That's an entirely new addition.

1 hr 18 min 26 sec in : The Welty Theo scene is awesome. The sound effects work. I feel suffocated. The ambulance noise fiasco is also nicely pulled off. (also Theo's Yellow bag was dirty af then how did it get all clean when he didn't even do anything to it?)

1 hr 20 min 57 sec in : Shhhh Potter.

1 hr 22 min in : Holy shit he got slapped twice!! Ouch! And Larry's audacity to tell Theo to stop with the crying?? Good thing he died. Asshole.

1 hr 25 min in : "You don't tell me a lot of things but that's okay". I see what you did there, Boris. Which was of course, I love you.

1 hr 26 min in : "Act normal" - Theo knows his way around drugs pretty well, doesn't he?

1 hr 30 min in : "No family No friends" line punched me in the face. (Also awww popchik's excuse was the last resort for Boris to make Theo stay.)

1 hr 31 min 17 sec in : That pause after "What do you have to tell me?". You can clearly see Boris struggling to hold something back. Which was of course, I love you.

1 hr 31 min 34 sec in : What the fuck is that music? Oh heyyyyyy they kissed!-- he fucking runs away?? Also what kind of a kangaroo runs like that? (Yes, the taxi driver watched. I don't have to wonder anymore.) (They didn't address why he took the bus instead of flying?)

1 hr 33 min in : I didn't imagine Welty's room like that at all. Also why doesn't Hobie seem happy to see Theo again?

1 hr 35 min in : Longer stretches of one storyline are kinda bearable. From drugs in storage unit to waking up beside Kitsey. We got Vegas and Young Theo. Nice. (Also, who the heck puts jewelry in shoes? Is Theo that dumb? And now I can't think of anything else than Boris piercing his ear for the emerald earring. Tumblr has fucked it up bad.)

1 hr 43 min in : They nailed the Kitsey Theo confrontation.

1 hr 44 min in : Ayyy Ozma of Oz!

1 hr 48 min in : I noticed it before but I wasn't sure... Now I am. Pippa has Welty's ring. On her finger. At all times. (also, is NYC always that noisy? Must suck to walk on the roads.)

1 hr 52 min 23 sec in : They nailed the Theo Pippa date. What's that song playing in the background? I want the name. It's almost like two hours and I still haven't seen Aneurin Barnard once. Why! (Jerome's mentioned in the movie btw.)

1 hr 52 min 51 sec in : Complained too soon. Boris is sat in the dark doing god knows what. My man Aneurin is here!

1 hr 53 min 37 sec in : BOREO REUNIONNNNNN - no don't look at me like that I only watched it thrice.

1 hr 56 min in : Boris saying "it's someone else" with a knowing look and Theo looking at him. The frickin yearning.

1 hr 57 min in : Boris is like you're unhappy, I'm here, we're both rich, let's f*ck. "We could"... What are you suggesting dude he's repressed!

1 hr 58 min in : "you unwrapped it and showed it to me." So many meanings. The heart, the love the soul... Wow. Good for you, screen play writers! ( It's kinda hilarious how Boris got mad at Theo for never quote unquote fucking opening it.)

2 hr 1 min in : I'm calling it. They're going to fuck up the Theo Hobie confrontation. They put it on the wrong time. And they also fucked up the text from the book.

2 hr 5 min 48 sec in : Even Platt is saving his sister's face. Also where did Todd go? Did he never grow up? I wish Mrs Barbour didn't use Theo like she did.

2 hr 7 min in : The frame where Boris is between Kitsey and Theo. Chef's kiss.

2 hr 10 min 54 sec in : *intense music playing* Boris put his leg up on the table and I burst into laughter THOSE ARE THE FAMOUS FUCK ME PUMPS.

2 hr 11 min in : AAAAA THE FOREHEAD TOUCH AAAAAAA (Theo just knows without looking that Boris is close enough to touch? Theo are you sure you don't feel feelings for him?)

2 hr 12 min in : Theo is so worried that I'm not sure if it's for Boris or for losing the painting again. Omg he just murdered a man. Oh god.

2 hr 14 min in : Theo is spiralling. In the movie they imply that Hobie played a part in him attempting suicide. So wrong. Poor Hobie. In the book that wasn't the case.

2 hr 15 min in : The transition of the Goldfinch into Audrey, wow. Also, is it the first time we're seeing her? The movie started so long ago that I've forgotten if I saw Theo and Audrey in the museum. Boris following right after Audrey? That's a subliminal message. Boris is here to rescue y'all.

2 hr 16 min in : No shit Boris is freaking out right now.

2 hr 17 min in : The diner scene. They're both crying. "Happy Christmas, Potter" - which was of course, I love you.

2 hr 18 min in : No don't you dare compare Audrey and Mrs Barbour. Audrey would never drug her child or use him for her benefit.

2 hr 20 min in : Poor kid bumps into his mom lol. I found it funny.

On the whole

The movie was nice if you'd read the book beforehand. The first hour was steak, The second hour was Korean BBQ and the rest of the twenty minutes were minced beef. If you get what I mean. Weird analogy. It could have been much better. But it was really very nice in some places. Most places I'd say.

I didn't like how the pop songs ruined the mood of certain moments. I didn't like how you couldn't hear the conversation over the music playing. For example in the engagement party when Platt and Theo talked. Or in the diner scene.

Both Borises killed the accent thing. They tried their best. Cut them some slack.

Oakes deserves an Oscar for holding up this movie on his smol shoulders. I was shook at how a kid could act that well.

Popchik deserved more screen time. I'm still pissed they didn't add the Popchik Boris reunion. But then they couldn't make it chronological, what were we supposed to expect anyway.

Ansel Elgort y'all. Theo sure improved his handwriting lol. Ansel's writing is nice. He was actually good in this movie. Better than he was in The Fault In Our Stars. The internet is just mean. The critics too. I will never understand the hate.

All in all, it could have been a better adaptation but it didn't suck as bad as everyone made it out to be. John Clownery should be punished nonetheless. Special shout-out to Roger Deakins for making it work.

#donna tartt #theo decker #boris pavlikovsky #finn wolfhard #oakes fegley #ansel elgort #aneurin barnard #the goldfinch #boreo

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years

Link

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Chapter 11

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

warnings: suicide reference, gun mention, food

Mornings should be banned. Roman rubbed his eyes from the brutally oppressive light breaking through the curtains. The breakfast was good and all, but Roman would rather just go back to bed. He barely managed to sleep last night. His stupid brain just wouldn’t give him a break. Fuck up this, mistake that, horrible memory this, it was a nightmare. Though a nightmare would have been better because at least he’d be asleep. He sighed as he rolled to the other end of the bed to his alarm. He wished, more than anything, for some kind of magic time pausing power so he could just go back to bed. Nothing happened, of course, and Roman groaned as he flopped out of bed.

Everything was arduous. Getting, changed, brushing his teeth, even sitting at the breakfast table. Honestly, he was so tired he didn’t care if he ate at all. Roman folded his arms and laid his head down on the table while Thomas made breakfast. Is it possible to be done with a day before 8 am? He nearly went up and back to bed until Virgil came in, his all of his emo glory. How Virgil had the focus to do his makeup this early was beyond Roman.

“What’s got you down, kiddo?” Patton asked, popping a kiss on Thomas’s cheek before sitting down. Roman yawned widely, eyes watering and nearly unhinging his jaw before dropping his head back down. “Well, now I know you went to bed on time last night,” Patton commented and rubbed Roman’s back slightly. Roman flinched from the sudden contact but was even too tired to freak out any further. At least that was something. Roman yawned again and propped his chin upon his arms.

“I suck at sleeping. Wake me when it’s time to go,” Roman buried his face in his arms again.

“You’ve got to eat breakfast, though. It’s not healthy to skip it. And it smells so darn good, too!” Patton said cheerily. Roman lifted his head slightly and glared before dropping down again. Roman wanted to smell bedsheets. “I’m sorry, there, Virgil, I’m still learning the alphabet,” Patton said, sounding disappointed. Roman glanced up to see what Virgil was saying.

“Virgil suggests coffee,” Roman put his head back down.

“Well, we can’t do that. Studies show it impairs sleep in teenagers,” Patton offered. Roman looked up at Patton with a raised eyebrow.

“And that’s different from now, how?” Roman yawned again. If he got more than two hours last night, he’d eat his shoes. Patton froze, the finger he was holding up drooped, and he looked confused.

“We’re not giving you coffee,” Thomas said, sliding plates down on to the table. Eggs, sausage, toast. Roman groaned, closed his eyes. “Come on, Roman, eat it while it’s hot,” Thomas urged. Roman sighed and slowly lifted his head. He could only manage small bites of food, and it hurt going down. He already felt like he was starting to drift. Breakfast is dumb. Everything is dumb. Want bed.

“Thanks for breakfast, honey,” Patton smiled.

“Thanks,” Roman mumbled.

“Don’t you have a permission slip I need to sign, Roman?” Thomas asked. Fuck, he was too tired for this.

“Lost it,” Roman grumbled and ate a bite of toast. He probably actually did. He hadn’t checked for it.

“Already?” Thomas asked incredulously.

“I’ve got like sixteen pounds of paper worth of homework,” Roman groaned. He fought to keep his eyes open and stifle a yawn.

“How’s that going?” Patton asked brightly.

“Fine. Great. Whatever word doesn’t make you upset,” The yawn Roman stifled came back with a vengeance, breaking free from his struggle against sleep and nearly dropped his fork.

“Hmm. You didn’t have any caffeine after school, did you?” Patton asked, sounding concerned.

“No. I would have wrestled a bear for some skittles to study with, but there were no skittles-toting-bears available,” Roman groaned.

“That’s a visual,” Patton chuckled.

“They wear rainbow capes and fight crime when they’re not dueling to the death with teenagers,” Roman said sleepily and picked at his food again.

“Oh no, why to the death?” Patton gasped.

“Violence for violence is the rule of the beasts,” Roman fought the urge to lay down in his eggs.

“What are you two talking about? I feel like I missed something,” Thomas said, confused.

“The brutal truth of how the man keeps teenagers from taking over the world by bribing them with skittles to fight bears,” Roman yawned and dropped his fork, giving up after dropping a bite of egg twice and just switching to munch on his toast.

“I think I’m starting to re-think that coffee stance,” Thomas chuckled slightly, sounding concerned.

“Don’t give the bears the beans, then they’ll take over the world instead, and who will stop the teenagers from their bloody upheaval?” Roman almost felt like he would pass out sitting up. Virgil knocked on the table and Roman looked at him wearily.

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Virgil signed. It took Roman’s brain ages to process what he signed.

“We were talking about something?” Roman asked and blinked slowly. Virgil rolled his eyes and put some hot sauce on his eggs.

“You’re not used to waking up this early, huh, kiddo?” Patton smiled.

“I don’t wake up in the early,” Roman grumbled, finally finishing his toast. “Kids pour their own cereal. Double-check they have their bags. Sleep till bus. Sleep on bus. Sleep till bell. Sometimes sleep through homeroom,” Roman moaned.

“Um, bud, you aren’t with the Finley’s anymore,” Thomas said carefully.

“No shit?” Roman said. Patton looked affronted, but Roman wasn’t sure why. “Aw, well where am I gonna get money, now? Oh no, who’s babysitting Jeffery? He’s such a cute kid and his parents always left me dinner. His mom made the best lasagna,” Roman mumbled a little deliriously.

“Watch your language, Roman. Let’s… let’s just get him some coffee,” Thomas said, sounding defeated, and got up from the table.

“Wait, where am I?” Roman groaned and tried to blink the sleep away from his eyes.

‘You’re a fucking idiot,’ Virgil signed.

“Addendum: Why is an e-boy roasting me?” Roman yawned painfully for an extended period. “Oh hey, Patton, when did you get here?” Patton looked kind of shocked.

“Let me guess, you have a way you take your coffee, Roman?” Thomas asked.

“One cream, two sugars. Why do you ask?” Roman rubbed his eyes.

“You take your coffee blacker than me, kiddo!” Patton said, sounding amused, though still looked concerned.

“Oh, thanks,” Roman mumbled when Thomas pushed a coffee mug in front of him. Smelling it woke Roman up enough to manage to eat again.

“This is a temporary solution in the dire situation that Roman may have actually fallen asleep in his eggs this morning,” Thomas said firmly. “An exception to the rule,”

“I would have done what now?” Roman asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Drink the coffee, Roman,” Thomas sighed and motioned towards the cup.

“Oh! Neat, coffee,” Roman said and sipped at the hot coffee.

“I’ll pick up some melatonin or something,” Thomas said distractedly and sat back down to eat.

“This is good coffee,” Roman mumbled and blew gently on it before taking another sip. “It doesn’t taste like muddy batteries,” He mused and nodded with a satisfied smile.

“I don’t think coffee should taste like muddy batteries at all?” Patton said, looking and sounding baffled.

“I agree,” Roman continued nodding for a moment longer before he picked up the pace on his breakfast. Everyone just stared at him. “What?”

“Maybe you need to go to bed early today,” Thomas suggested.

“Hmm? Sure,” Roman said and pushed his plate out of the way, laying back down on the table. “Night,” Roman yawned.

“That’s… not what we meant, kiddo. Please drink the coffee,” Patton urged him.

“Ugh,” Roman slowly sat up and flopped back on his chair. “Make up your minds,”

‘How did you survive this far?’ Virgil signed with a confused expression.

“Sheer spite,” Roman grumbled and sipped his coffee, starting to feel like he could think again.

‘Same,’ Virgil signed back with a sage nod.

“Virgil, could you keep an eye on him on the way to school?” Thomas asked carefully.

‘I’m not his mom,’ Virgil signed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms after signing mother as sarcastically as possible.

“He’s only a year older than me and built like a long stick, what’s he supposed to do? Sign motivations or something?” Roman grunted. Virgil motioned to Roman with both arms and looked intensely at Thomas. Thomas held up his hands.

“Okay, point. It wasn’t fair to ask,” Thomas conceded. Virgil nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” Roman drawled and made some serious headway on his coffee. He was still tired as shit, and ready to pass out, but he was less mad about it. Maybe he could sleep through homeroom and lunch.

—

Roman walked right into the couch and collapsed on it when he got back from school. He didn’t think he could make the stairs, honest to god, he wanted to just die here. He was so done. He closed his eyes, laying partially off the couch and just didn’t move. He’d give anything to fall asleep right now, but he just couldn’t. But he could lie here. That was like sleep, but more painful. It was close enough. His body wouldn’t let him do anything else, anyway.

“Um, Roman?” Thomas said, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder and shaking slightly. Roman’s body was too tired to even flinch.

“I will fight you,” Roman grumbled into the couch.

“I think you should maybe sleep in a bed,” Thomas suggested, patting Roman’s shoulder.

“If I could sleep, I would. I am bad at it. I am here in limbo and I suffer eternally for my crimes against man,” Roman groaned and lifted his hands slightly off the couch to wave them dramatically.

“Do you need help up the stairs?” Thomas asked kindly, stepping back.

“I need a gun and a single bullet,” Roman grumbled into the couch cushions.

“Woah, Roman, that’s not okay to joke about,” Thomas said firmly. Roman groaned and lifted himself slowly off the couch.

“Fine, I won’t joke about it,” Roman rolled his eyes. Roman slowly pulled himself to his feet. “I’m going to grab a bite and go do my homework, okay? I promise I’ll move my backpack soon. I just got to eat something before I make the harrowing trek through the land of the stairs,” Thomas backed up further and looked concerned at Roman, but Roman shrugged it off and went to the kitchen to go eat some chips.

Roman leaned against the counter and stared into nothing while he munched on some potato chips. They were salt and vinegar, and the burning kind of helped him wake up. Like fight or flight, but with masochist chips. They were kind of growing on him. Virgil came into the kitchen with a brief salute and Roman handed over the bag and went to go look in the fridge for a protein. Virgil looked confused but shrugged and started munching chips. Roman shoved a slice of cheddar and some lunch meat in his mouth and poured himself some water to take upstairs to do homework.

Roman dropped his bag with a thud on the floor near the desk and dropped into the chair with a huff. He glared at his science textbook. Roman would rather study the science of how long it takes to burn a textbook, honestly. That was a chemical reaction. He didn’t care about subatomic processes in theory. In action, though, that would be interesting. Sublimation was cool to watch. That one experiment he saw a teacher do where the liquids kept changing colors was neat. Memorizing atomic numbers was stupid. He dutifully flipped open the textbook, anyway. He never learned from the lecture and had to catch up somehow.

—

Roman glanced at the time. It had been two hours of endless fucking studying and homework already. His foot was tapping so much he might rocket off, so a run with Lita sounded nice. Roman threw a sheet of paper in his textbook to mark his line and got up. Roman headed downstairs with a sigh.

“Hey, Roman, how’s homework going?” Thomas asked as Roman passed his office.

“Oh? Hm, fine, I guess. Is it okay if I go for a run with Lita? My eyes were crossing more than usual,” Roman said, shuffling his feet.

“That’s fine. I was actually about to take her out myself. Are you sure you’re okay to run? You could barely move earlier,” Thomas asked, getting up from his desk.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Roman mumbled. He was plenty awake now, just feeling restless.

“I’ll head out with you. I’ve been at that desk all day,” Thomas stretched slightly. “Lita,” Thomas called and Lita came bounding down the stairs excitedly after a moment. Roman headed to the kitchen to get a water bottle and Lita’s leash, tagged closely by the excited terrier. Lita danced around on the kitchen floor and Roman hooked her up as usual.

Thomas did a much better job of keeping up with Roman than Patton did, but Roman and Lita left him in the dust for the first sprint. When Lita slowed down for the hydrant Thomas caught up, though it seemed to be an effort for him.

“You doing all right, Thomas?” Roman asked as Thomas ran up to him and gasped for a moment.

“You… are a speed demon, just like the dog,” Thomas said and downed some water.

“We aim to please,” Roman smirked. “You normally walk her, right?”

“Yeah. I work from home and need the excuse to get up from my desk or I’ll die of heart disease at 45,” Thomas said, wiping his head. “It’s a good thing you’re interested in cross-country. I think you’d do really well. Did you find the permission slip?”

“What?” Roman asked, looking confused at Thomas and stopping for Lita to do her business near a shrub.

“The permission slip for joining the club? You said you lost it in your homework pile,” Thomas clarified for Roman. Roman had forgotten about it. He still wasn’t going to join and be any more of a burden than he was.

“Oh, yeah. No, I didn’t find it. Mostly just learned about the noble gas interactions and stuff like that,” Roman shrugged and bagged Lita’s business. Lita happily started trotting along while Roman tied the baggy off.

“Just let me know when you find it,” Thomas smiled. Roman picked up with running again. Lita ran at a slower pace with Thomas nearby. This was probably their normal speed. Roman wanted to go a little faster, but probably just because he wanted to physically run away from this conversation. He didn’t want to get caught in a lie, even if he hadn’t technically told one.

“You mind if I pick up the pace a bit?” Roman asked, biting back the nervousness and trying to sound nonchalant.

“Go ahead,” Thomas nodded. Roman started running faster and Lita happily kept up and they pulled away from Thomas a bit. There was something extremely satisfying about running away from a conversation, actually. He probably shouldn’t make a habit out of it, but it was immediately relieving.

Roman turned the corner around the block while he ran along. Lita jolted forward slightly when she saw Patton’s car pulling up into the garage. Roman figured he may as well and pushed himself to keep up with the dog’s fevered excitement to see who is probably her favourite person again. They didn’t make it back before the garage closed, but Lita bolted and ran right into Patton in walking into the living room when they got inside.

“Oh, did my favourite girl go on a run with Roman?” Patton bent down and scratched behind her ear while unhooking the leash that Roman had just given up and dropped.

“And Thomas, he’s behind me. Lita sped up when she saw you pull in,” Roman panted.

“Aw, she missed me,” Patton cooed and Lita flopped on to her back and Patton gave her belly rubs. Roman sat on the couch and settled down a bit, closing his eyes and breathing. He knew he’d need to get up and get a water refill in a moment, otherwise, he’d just go upstairs and hide.

“I’ll refill your water, Roman,” Patton said, getting up from petting Lita. Roman just nodded silently and emptied the bottle before holding it up. Patton took it from his hands and went to the kitchen as Thomas came in.

“Oh, sweet air conditioning,” Thomas exhaled, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked right into the kitchen after Roman and Thomas share a brief wave.

“Oh! Thomas!” Patton chirped. Patton giggled right after that. Roman sighed and stared longingly at the TV. He wanted to watch TV or play video games or literally anything but going back to the homework pile. Patton came back out and held the water bottle over the couch for Roman to take. He grabbed it and got off the couch to go head into his room. Sadly, there was more homework to get to. Roman shot a last glance at the games before heading back to fight the evil homework villain, a pencil as his sword almost like Percy Jackson. God, he tried, but it still didn’t sound fun. He might actually rather fight a gorgon with a regular pen.

Roman sighed as he scanned the internet for a new study playlist. He picked one at random, but his headphones said the battery was low when he pressed play. Well, whatever. He could listen out loud while they charged. Nobody seemed to mind. Roman moved the sheet that marked where he left off and got back to it. His kingdom for a packet in science. This essay form homework was bullshit. What a sadistic teacher.

—

Roman finished almost everything for the night when his alarm went off. There was still a small pile tomorrow, but it was much less daunting. He probably messed lots of it up, but at least it was done. And once he turned all this stuff in tomorrow, his backpack wouldn’t weigh 12 tons. He was so glad to be nearly caught up. All this shit was hard to remember and hard to read and just a nightmare. But if he did the work, at least he can say he tried. He had just enough time to take a shower and play something on his phone. Roman got up to pull out some pajamas.

“Time for bed, Roman,” Thomas knocked on the door.

“I’m getting in the shower now,” Roman said and opened the door to see Thomas standing there.

“Alright, bed right after,” Thomas said, looking like he meant it.

“Seriously? I’ve been doing homework for like 3 hours straight, dude,” Roman groaned.

“You nearly fell asleep on your plate, Roman, you need more sleep,” Thomas said.

“I’m just going to lay there for hours, can’t I at least read a chapter or something?” Roman sighed and rubbed his head.

“I grabbed you some melatonin this afternoon, we’ll try that tonight. I’ll be back with it in 20 minutes with it,” Thomas said, moving aside. Roman threw his arms in frustration and passed to the bathroom. He had a very large selection of choice words for Thomas, but he kept them in a safe place. Where he always did. Ranting in his head. Because he wasn’t looking to get his ass beat for talking back, regardless of the supposed safety here. The shower was the perfect place to fume, at least.

taglist: @bunny222

#tsss #sanders sides #tsss fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #tsss fanfic #ayri writes #dreaming while i wake #ts roman #roman angst #dad!patton #dad!thomas #teenage!roman #teenage!virgil #foster au #roman pov #angst #high school au #human au

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thisartofeveryday · 4 years

Text

For those of you who thought I should make my life story into a book…here is the outline. For the sake of clarity as you are reading, let me explain who the characters are. The kids from my Dads first marriage: Jim1, Patty, Seana. The kids from my Mom’s (Mary Ellen) first marriage: Mary Jane and Jim2. My brother that I am a full sibling to is Charles (chuck).

I think you might know that 95% of our lives are lived from the unconscious mind. From birth to age 7 a childs mind is in Theta wave (hypnosis) and everything that they learn in those years (mainly through observation and repetition) is the program that their minds run for their entire lives. Knowing this – I look back on the first 7 years of my life.

I think we moved 7 times in those 7 years. I am certain it was because of Dads extreme anger management problems and the fact that he is a sociopath, a pedophile and a rapist. Zero stability or chance to make lasting friendships. My dad was sexually abusing me and unpredictably violent. I was terrified of him. I was being terrorized/bullied by my brother, Chuck, who was every bit the sociopath that my dad is. My mom was overwhelmed by the number of children she was responsible for - none of which she actually wanted- and add to that, her husband was sexualizing all of the kids, so really being the last of her kids I was the last of her problems. Being the youngest (and as traumatized as I was), I was quiet and easy to forget about or push to the side. The older kids were the ones in the spotlight and where all the attention went. They were enrolled in activities and they were more the same age, so they were a unit. I was just an observer of them. I felt so left out and forgotten. Always.

I was a mistake and a burden (dads exact words to me on my 11th birthday). Mom made sure I knew that she thought I was mentally retarded- she would joke about it all the time. (I guess she never made peace with her sister being autistic) She also loved humiliating me even when I made it clear she was hurting me. Remember her sausage fingers joke or how many years I got called Boomer? I absolutely hated both of those things, made it clear, and yet she refused to give up the name calling and humiliation. There was very little respect for my personal boundaries. Dad would assault me in the middle of the night and I would wet the bed out of fear- then he would make me sleep in it to teach me a lesson. Mom would do nothing to help me, though she was awake in the middle of the night when I would work up the courage to go into their room to ask for help. She let him treat me like that. Goddamn…I remember the night terrors and being scared to be in my room at night because the scary man was sitting in the rocking chair, in the dark, next to my bed.

I have a memory of being in the garage in our house in South Windsor. I was playing with our basset hound, General…I was crawling around on the floor and the dog mounted me and was dry humping me. Dad got this sick laugh and let it happen. Mom walked in and got mad at him, but did nothing to help me. My personal boundaries were nonexistent. Nobody was protecting me from him. I remember him eating the food off my plate at dinner…or kissing me on the ear or touching me when I would tell him I hated it and to stop. I remember the baths dad would have me take with him and how he taught me to touch and work his dick. I remember the photos he would take of me after the bath. I remember being 7 years old and trying to lay on his bed and be sexy enough for him. I remember kissing mom passionately the way that dad taught me to and mom getting upset and asking me where I learned that. I remember having a baby doll that I drew all over, angrily, with lipstick. I remember being scared because my ass was bleeding and I told mom while her brother and sisters were visiting and she shushed me and scurried me away. I remember him also beating the shit out of me…sometimes for no reason. I remember being deeply attracted to and absolutely terrified of him. I was 7. These are the only memories I have of my dad. I don’t remember him being there for me, or interested in me as a person, or engaged in anyway. I just remember him being what I now know is a predator.

7 to 13: I remember some stability in Connecticut because we stayed there for three years… but I also remember having moments of being deeply depressed and hiding in the basement of the house writing notes that I hoped someone would find, asking for help to get me out of there. When I look back, those were my first experiences with disassociation from stress and waves of major depression. While I was being assaulted during those years, those years were all about Mary Jane, Seana, and Jim2. These three had each other. These three were a team. I was just an observer to your lives. I had no voice, no opinion, no importance, never truly included and absolutely my feelings went unheard and did not matter. We can say it was the age difference, sure, that’s part of it…but that’s also just an excuse. Things could have been done to validate my importance too. I had Charles bullying me….I had my Dad assaulting me. I was so alone.

My internal voice wants to shout: Why did nobody see this? Why did nobody help me? Where were my siblings? I guess everyone was doing the best they could…

Literally anyone looking in knowing the truth could have easily assessed that this was a horribly destructive environment for any child to grow up in. I know dad was doing this to all the kids. I wasn’t the only one. It is absolutely stunning to me that through the years of my life I have consistently been blamed by my Mary Ellen (narcissist/borderline personality disorder) and the people who chose to listen to her twisted opinions that there was something wrong WITH ME. I mean, logically the mental health issues I have faced my entire life are perfectly normal and healthy reactions to a situation that was deeply flawed. But somehow the blame has always fallen on me.

The very first thing I think when I think of my mom is her asking me “Whats wrong with you Melissa”. Ive lost count of how many times she has asked me that very question.

I now know that its just deflection. Queen Narcissist cant take responsibility for her actions so she puts it on the person who she always denied a voice. That’s nice. Very loving and motherly. Doesn’t fix the 40 some odd years of my life that I believed her and wanted to die.

Right around age 9 or 10, we move again. I remember it being a big scandal – I think the truth came about that my dad is a sociopath, a pedophile and a rapist. (By the way, that’s in my DNA. I get to live my life connected to that. I look just like my dad. I think like a Painter. It’s fucking unsettling.) I remember all the pressure to say nothing about the move and to constantly behave as though we were the perfect family and nothing was wrong. So incredibly demented.

I remember a HUGE fight about Seana and Jim2 staying behind in Connecticut. (by the way: I also remember Jim1 leaving for the Marines and wondering where my brother went and why he never talked to me. At one point he came back to visit and gave me a beautiful geisha doll in a glass box that mom destroyed in a fit of anger at me…she intentionally violently knocked it off the top of my dresser in one of her vindictive off the handle rages…Im sure at 8 years old I totally did something to deserve it, right.)

And, of course I remember the night Seana was killed. (why did the man that killed her not serve jail time? Why are bad people never held accountable?) Dad wasn’t there. Again, Dad wasn’t there. As I recall he was having an affair with some woman in Arizona? Mom was already distraught to be back in Michigan. That night, I remember being awake before the call came in…watching the clock radio in my bed… it had a short in the wire that would spark. I was listening to the Beatles: My guitar gently weeps…. To this day, I hate the Beatles.The phone rang. Mom screamed to you “Mary Jane, OMG, Seana is Dead”. I didn’t understand what happened. I just knew we were packing up like we did so many times before to take yet another long drive across country. It felt to me like another move. I didn’t understand death or that my sister was gone forever. I didn’t get it.

(an aside: I struggled in school. When I was in Beginning Algebra One for some reason that class would make me check out and I would always soul travel to the night Seana was killed and it felt like it was happening to me. I took that class 4 times including summer school before I passed.)

(later, when I was maybe 13, my dog got hit by a car in the street and now I knew what death was so I freaked out like Mom did when Seana died and I remember Mom shaming me: You cried more over than damn dog than you did at your sisters funeral. Very nice. Very motherly. Very supportive and kind of her.)

At Seanas funeral, I remember not knowing what was expected of me. I was just so focused on getting it right and who I was supposed to kiss (because that sexualized stuff was already so ingrained).

There were so many goddamn rules for behavior, (rich white republican ex-military country club going family that we were) and I remember getting it wrong and being scowled at all the time. Mom was always angry and stressed out. We had to BE someone and over and over again: “Don’t forget the family name” and how important our clan was (hilarious that she kept the Sterling last name because her current husband is too ethnic and this sounds classier to her than her own actual last name)….

Meanwhile, My developing sense of self was being assaulted and neglected/ignored out of me and I felt wrong all the time for every single action I took.

I think we moved back to North Carolina briefly and then to Florida? Whatever the case….

Then we move again. Again. Again. Now we are in Florida. Im 10. My parents are getting divorced. Mom is deeply goddamn depressed. My family is falling apart. I don’t know where my brothers and sister are. Everything is exploding. Im powerless and hostage to all this. I cannot underline the importance of that sense of being hostage to a situation that I was powerless to escape and having my feelings and my personhood completely ignored and erased. It consumed me. I wanted to die. I am, as always, the least of moms concerns.

In Florida I was so incredibly dissociative. I was experiencing C-PTSD. I remember feeling numb all over. Having no ability to react to this little girl that fell off her bike in front of me….I just stared at her…the adults nearby yelled at me for doing nothing. I went further into my head. I was so checked out. People just thought I was quiet or shy or retarded. I was deeply traumatized and needed help.

I remember Mary Jane and I sitting on the bed watching this music video by The Cars. In the video there is a woman who is laughing and crying. I remember asking MJ what she was doing because I do that too and I think she told me she was having a mental break down.

I remember getting a Walkman and listening to the Police nonstop. That was my only retreat from how much I hurt. WHY DID NOBODY SEE THIS AND HELP ME?

I remember during that time that I was given another baby doll. I remember MJ and mom watching me play with it to see what I would do. I felt scared of them both and the creepy way they were lurking to watch me. I felt ganged up on. I couldn’t trust anyone. I was so alone. I wanted to die.

In Florida, I remember my birthday and dad cocking his fist back like he was going to punch me in the face…he did that sick laugh and told me he wished I was never born and that I was a mistake. (later when I told this to Patty she explained he punched her in the face on her 11th birthday. Im related to all that. That’s in my dna.)

My body was changing. I was getting my period. I felt crazy. I was in that HUGE school in Jacksonville and I had no friends and I was so scared. Everything was terrifying….and Dad was getting more unhinged thus Mom has Jim and Lynn move in to protect her and had you come back… and then I remember walking in to the living room in the middle of a sunny afternoon and mom on the pull out sofa, trying to make dad jealous, was fucking the guy who was there to buy the house that we had just moved in to because we were MOVING AGAIN….

Not to mention, I remember MJ and I quickly taking Dads gun to the beach to bury it so he because he wanted to kill us all.

Im not even 13 yet….. Are you exhausted?

Any one of these things would make a fully functioning stable adult fold like a house of cards. “Whats wrong with you Melissa?”…. It took something like 20 years of therapy but now I have some clues to answer that question. Here are some more clues:

We finally make it to Boone. Mom followed her best friend, Mary Jane. After all that… that incredible pressure cooker of my pre teen childhood we arrive in bumfuck nowhere, North Carolina….and everyone is gone except the sociopath brother. The house is basically empty. Everyone abandoned ship. Where did my brothers and sisters go? I remember coming home after school and there would be nobody home. For my entire life I had come home to my family but now there was no one. I would sit on the couch and watch the clock with growing anxiety and cry until mom came home from work. It was beyond torturous. And then she would be pissed off that I needed her because she just got home from work. At this point Mom is just angry and exhausted all the time. She had to get a job outside the home for the first time in her life which she hated, she was sick of being a mom…she wanted it all to be over so she could have HER life. Charles was getting more and more abusive- physically and mentally and had to be sent away for our protection.

And then she starts dating Don Bailey. I think the sex must have been amazing because the guy was an utter low life. He was living off of her/my child support money… and beating the shit out of her. Their fights were never goddamn ending. I would hide in my room after school and not come out. I was so alone. I had no friends and no escape. Mom was friends with Mary Jane, not with me. Mom wanted nothing to do with me. One day we were driving home and I was so attached to her. I needed my mom so goddamn bad… I was struggling to make friends at yet another new school and the PTSD made me feel so distant from everyone but I had no words for what was wrong with me I just thought I was terrible at making friends (I remember this: pathetically I checked out a book at the library: How to be your own best friend)… She pulled the car over and told me “we cant be friends.” Mom has some glorified memory of us driving around looking for our favorite tree in Autumn… the only thing I remember is that conversation…her rejecting me when I needed her the most… after we moved to the town my sister lived in so she could be close to her.

Again, still no help with the major depression, the CPTSD… just a lot of blame “why cant you be happy Melissa…whats wrong with you?” and I cant be clear enough about this: all her spare time at home was spent on Don, not me. I didn’t have clubs and groups and activities that she as sure to enroll me in. I didn’t have my brothers and sisters there with me. It was just me, after all that, trying to figure it out.

I was a burden to her. She couldn’t wait to get rid of me and be done. I felt it always.

An aside: When she was unsure if she wanted to stay in Boone, I remember her asking Charles if we should stay or go back to Florida…after he chimed in with his answer, I gave my opinion which she angrily scoffed at me and told me it didn’t matter what I thought, Id go where they tell me to go. My voice didn’t matter, I was a burden to her. I had no value as a person. I was powerless. So there I was in my bedroom that was the walkway between the living room and her room… at the mercy of whatever happened with no privacy or power over my life….. whats new.

Another aside: During that time we had gotten a dog that was a total pain in the ass for her to take care of. She gave it away while I was at school. I came home and the dog was gone and I was tearful thinking it ran away. She gave my dog away without telling me.

Then we moved out to Valley Crusis (9 miles outside of town…so isolated. I was so alone. The isolation was killing me. Where were my siblings. I needed help. I needed someone who was just there for me.) and Dons abusive behavior got even more extreme. I remember him picking me up from a concert that I was at….because he had sent Mom to the hospital with a sprained wrist and a busted lip. He was laughing about it when he told me to get in the car. Another time I remember Don looming in my bedroom door when Mom was at work and it was just us in the house… telling me: “Go ahead and call the police, nobody will believe you anyway.” I remember the woman who lived up the hill from us, with the curly hair…I think her name was Susan… coming down to the house while Mom and Don were gone and telling me If it ever gets too bad, you can always run up here. The neighbors knew I needed help. Where were my brothers and sisters? Where was my Mom? FUCK.

I remember Mom having many off the handle rages at me because I looked like a boy and my hair was crazy and I was so fucked up. I remember one morning after she had raged at me so hard that I was in stunned silence… we were sitting at breakfast at St Sinners and MJ kept looking at me, she knew something was wrong, I was clearly checked out and fucked up. I needed my sister. I had no voice or ability to speak up. I was scared of her husband, Glenn. Nobody helped me. Mom was the star of the brunch party!

I remember getting my first job at 15 and working at St Sinners…. Then, when mom bought the restaurant I stopped getting paid. She cut me off from my paycheck and told me it was my “duty to the family”… but she had Jim2 and his first wife Lynn there working and they were getting paid…and also stealing her money to fuel their coke habits. She didn’t value me, or my efforts but her golden son Jim can do no wrong even when he is fucking her out of her business.

I remember Jim2 offering me coke at a house party and John Golden and another friend getting me out of there away from my own brother. I remember Lynn being LIVID that I would stop by their house when I was lonely and wanted my family but instead I got shamed for thinking I could stop by and see them…and mom would tell me that “they had BUSY LIVES and I should leave them alone.”

I remember being so fucked up and alone in Boone….I mean, I now know I was just in shock and experiencing major depression. Mom kept asking me Whats wrong with you Melissa…when I was your age I had to choose between boyfriends… etc. Its incredible to me how Mom normalized my childhood abuse and completely erased my feelings or my personhood then blamed me for somehow being a problem child or wrong in whatever way….more incredible: people believed her.

During those years in Boone I remember her doing things like openly making fun of me when I thought I might be gay, fixing regular hamburgers and telling me they were tofu when I became vegetarian…starting a burn pile in the back yard full of toxic things after I told her how important recycling was to me and laughing at me as I cried…..every chance she had to make me feel awful about being me and disrespected she took.

Once I visited her at her office and she told me I was “too ugly to look at and she didn’t want anyone to know I was her daughter and to never come to her office again.”

Shes right, we were not friends. She was a jealous mean girl, obsessed with appearances and her shitty boyfriend.

Lets not forget when she, with Mary Janes help, stacked my portfolio with MJs lithographies and coached me how to lie to get me in to Governors school for the summer. She wanted me gone and she got her wish. I remember feeling like a fraud that summer. I wasn’t good enough to be there. I had to lie to be included. I remember she didn’t even drive me there. She had Don do it. He harassed me in the car all the way there, 3 hours…. then dropped me…16… off on the curb in front of the college and drove away. All the other kids had parents excitedly helping them get set up in their rooms…excited about their major accomplishment of getting in to Governors school… I was there with my milk crate of shit, a fraud. alone. Acting like a tough girl who didn’t need anyone. I was a pro at that. Mission accomplished, she was rid of me.

I remember how deep my depression was becoming by the time I was 18. That last year of high school I would bang my head against my bedroom wall in an attempt to knock myself out, in hopes that I would get sent away to a treatment center or something. I couldn’t take all the fighting between her and Don. I fucking hated him and he was in my house and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to throw myself down the back stairwell at school. I barely graduated high school my depression was eating me alive.

Amazing that nobody IN MY FAMILY SAW THAT I NEEDED HELP. I was invisible. Mary Ellen cast her proclamation that all was well, she was amazing and I was a problem child and that was that.

I have a million stories about Mom demoralizing me during those years…. Whats weird is that I have no memory of my Mary Jane there. I think she was so involved with Glenn and way up the mountain, I had no way to reach her. And I was scared of her husband Glenn. And, we were never close. And, she was Team Mary Ellen…. So I was just alone and wanted to die. Sincerely. Goddamn. Let it end.

I remember Don telling me that Mom was using my child support payment to make her car payment. So I asked her about where my child support was going and she told me she used it for my Blue Cross Blue Shield Insurance…. So I called the insurance company to see if I had coverage…. They had no record of me. She was, again, a liar….

When I graduated high school she couldn’t get me out of the house fast enough. She pawned me off on my boyfriend Gebeaux and expected him to simply take care of me. We broke up. He didn’t sign up for that. I was basically kicked out of the house in valley crusis. I wasn’t prepared for life on my own. I wasn’t ready. She just wanted to be done being a mom so Hey..I came back to the house one day and all my stuff was packed and that was that. I had to figure it out. Fuck me.

At one point during that time I was living in a trailer with my friend Stacy. Mom was horrified about this. I was getting food stamps and she was so ashamed of me for being so low class. She came to the trailer and was completely off the handle. She said there was “no air” in there and grabbed a 2x4 and smashed out all the windows. Mind you from her perspective it was just another example of what a loser I am, living in a trailer on food stamps how did I end up such a piece of shit when she is such a wonderful mother… it must be because there is something inherently wrong about me.

She has seen me as trash who is incapable of being anything great my entire life.

Somewhere in there she stopped dating Don and started dating lawyer Rand Sterling…who broke her ribs multiple times and literally pushed her out of a moving car and then she walked 5 miles back to his house to be with him. That relationship took her to Texas. She followed the money. The insanity of that relationship is all I heard about from her. She needed Jim2 to come protect her from her husband multiple times. I absorbed all of this through her very rare but insane emails to me. She has always used me as her emotional manipulation dumping ground.

I had my first total mental break right around 19 years old. I was fetal position on the floor at my girlfriends house… Jenn… I couldn’t stop crying for multiple days and I felt my mind split in two. I literally went into a black hole and was begging for death. Jenn and the next door neighbor scooped me up off the floor and drove me to the Watauga County Mental Health and got me some help… but at this point I was having a total mental collapse… the part of me that was traumatized was a child denied her voice or any recognition of her Self, so I had no way to articulate what was wrong and Mom had denied and normalized the abuse and denied me voice and my personhood for so long that I had ZERO chance of articulating what was wrong… it was buried so deep inside of me and I was so scared to trust anyone…. I was experiencing schizophrenia and Major depression.

Jenn helped me with my depression. Jenn made sure I was housed and fed. Jenn took care of me. I owe her my life.

I mean, that is an extreme mental health episode. Where was my family? How could none of the people who were supposed to love me the most see any of this? Why did none of them help me? Why did all of them think I was to blame? (my guess: Team Mary Ellen)

Somewhere in that year my friends were moving to Chapel Hill so I packed up the car that my child support paid for and I went down the mountain. She threatened to call the police on me for stealing the car. She told me I needed discipline and needed to go into the Army. She just didn’t know what to do with me…such a problem child. If I remember correctly, you echoed her sentiments. Everyone was always so angry at me for being so wrong and so bad. None of my family (meaning MJ and mom because my brothers had long bailed on me and my extended family has never made a single attempt to reach out to me or know me at all.) were my friend, or loving, kind or compassionate.

I got away….I went to Chapel Hill and lived with my best friends Kerry, Lesley, Julie, and two other guys in Kerry’s Moms rental house. I was working at the Columbia Street Bakery and dating this boy, Richard…. Who happened to be a really abusive drug dealer… who held me down one night and violently orally raped me and when I called mom for help she told me with the exasperation of a mother who had supposedly tried so hard to do the right thing and raise her child with love and support but that child was just tragic and terminally fucked :

“I don’t know whats wrong with you Melissa, I guess you just like the bad boys.”

Again, no self reflection on her behalf…she did nothing to help me.

I didn’t know how to get away from Richard who was playing mind fuck with me and I was getting high with him (LSD) …which was basically, me being drugged and him using me for sex but not being loving or kind in any way (felt like home) Eventually, Richard got busted for selling a page of lsd to an undercover cop and threatened to kill me because he thought it was my fault… so I had to get out of there and I went to New York to chill out and work for the summer at the Omega Institute of Holistic Learning… to just be around hippies and eat good food. I hung out with Baba Ram Dass and Ben & Jerry…and took a class on the whirling dervish… These moments when I wasn’t in the pressure cooker of my life were both brilliant because I needed healing but also the worst because all this trauma would start to surface and I didn’t know what it was or how to speak about it. I would start to shatter again.

I believed it was my fault and there was something inherently wrong with me.

I was so lost. I needed help. I needed a parent or loving compassionate family or someone trusted to guide me through that time in my life. I had no one but my friends from North Carolina who were just as fucked up as me. I needed help. I needed help. Oh my god, I needed help.

Omega ended…I had no money to get out of there, nobody to turn to for help, no clue what to do next, I certainly couldn’t go back to Mom who hated me and was living with Rand so fuck that… I had no idea where my brothers and sisters were and no relationship with them so that wasn’t on my mind as an option…..so I caught whatever ride I could get and ended up in Boulder. One of my friends from Omega hooked me up with her cousin for a month and I tried to make it work… it was basically winter in Colorado at this point and I was out there door canvassing for Green Peace making no money and freezing to death. Just walking door to door for Greenpeace… looking in on other families and their loving lives together. I was so fucking sad. I was hungry and scared and completely out of options. I had to get out of there.

I called Mom for help. She said: “You got yourself into this, get yourself out”…. And hung up on me. The bitch hung up on me. I was stranded and so scared and I needed my mom. She hung up on me. She blamed me. She wanted to punish me for being such a problem. She was done being a mom. She hung up.

I remember having gone to the Planned Parenthood to get some medical help because I was sick. I explained my situation and the nurse looked at me incredulously and said “where are you parents?” I explained to her that Mom hung up on me. I was devastated, living in a constant state of shock. Scared out of my sense of self or ability to connect to the present moment.

I was a fractured soul in every possible meaning.

My month at my friends place was over and I had to find an apartment or live on the streets. It took me another month of begging whatever guy I could find to give me a place to stay and then I contacted the boy I was dating at Omega, Scott, and asked him for money to get a bus back to North Carolina. He helped me. Bless him. He got me out of there.

I got on the Greyhound and ended up going to Idaho to visit with my friend Stacy (who I lived in the trailer with) and stay with her for a couple weeks to get grounded and feel safe with a friend for a minute. My mental break was coming back full force. I was inconsolable. I remember laying on her bed fully having an out of body experience from the stress and being so disoriented. She is so patient and kind. She took care of me. When my time with Stacy was up, the next layer of insanity: I got on the Greyhound and took a 5 day no sleep, no food journey across country. I got chased down, carrying all my bags of things and looking like a little hippie… on a layover, by a group of drunk men in Wyoming…they almost got me but I found a laundromat that was open and full of people so I ran inside and hid until my bus was leaving again. I was terrified. By the time I made it back to Lesley and Kerrys house in Chapel Hill it was New Year night…I got some hours back at the Columbia Street bakery I was working at and got some money rolling in.

I want to mention that Poverty, which I have lived most my life in, is no joke and more damaging than anyone outside of the experience can understand. It is cyclical, like bi polar…. Living paycheck to paycheck or however you get just enough to maybe hold on for a moment longer but never knowing if more will be coming is a terror. Always feeling like the bottom is going to drop out…and never knowing when youre going to eat…and what that does to your hormones and your mental health…. Poverty is proven to damage people on a cellular level and have lasting effects that lead to chronic illness.

After making it back to NC, few weeks later the boy from Omega came to Chapel Hill and told me he wanted to marry me and wanted me to move to Boston with him. So we took a little road trip and eventually ended up in Boston. As a surprise to no one sane, that was not a lasting relationship. So after a year of misery in Boston, (more poverty, more loneliness, more no family) Scott drove me back to Chapel Hill and that’s when the girls and I all moved up to Asheville. All the while, checking in with Mom who was yelling and shaming me for being such a fuck up.

I can’t underline enough: I was disassociating the entire time. I was having episodes of schizophrenia. I was experiencing major depression and bi polar disorder. The stress of my entire life was more than I could handle and I had no support and no compassion and nobody validating my experience or me as a person. People just thought that was who I was. I was just fucked in every way possible and believed she was right and all that was normal and I was a terrible piece of shit. She had everyone believing that.

Mary Jane believed her. She echoed her sentiments to me. Go Team Mary Ellen.

I moved up to Asheville and got somewhat stabilized. I was again living with my friends and I got a decent job at the Laughing Seed Cafe. I met Mark and I had decided to go to college because I thought that would make Mom happy and I needed to DO something with myself.

Mark and I were together maybe 8 weeks before we moved across country and started a life together. Eight weeks.

I was so adept at being a high functioning dissociative major depressive and I had no way to articulate what was wrong with me (all that stuff that had been normalized and ignored…all the ways my feelings and personhood was erased)… I just knew something evil bad was in me and it took me out from time to time. I thought it was my fault and I was ashamed of myself. I was living in a constant state of shock. CPTSD.

So, I get myself into college and thanks to Mark and his truck we move across country.

When I hear my friends now talking about saving money for their kids college and really setting them up for success by helping them choose a school and get settled in or making sure they don’t have to work so they can focus on their studies and have a healthy social life with friends and do activities Im so confused. I didn’t know parents and families helped their kids with such things. I didn’t understand that in other families they help, protect and support. I made it through without any of these blessings.

Mark and I get a shitty apartment (the ceiling caved in out of rot and the place was full of roaches. The property managers stole my drum set and we would catch them on the roof at night peeping through the skylight to watch us), I get a full time job managing a restaurant…in addition to schooling full time...Im overwhelmed by the workload, scared to be across country, freaked out by college and the expectations… it was too much. I was away from the source of my abuse and things started to surface… I NEEDED HELP.

I needed my family except, honestly, I have none. Additional mindfuck: when I tried to talk to people about this I get the old trope about how everyone has tough relationships in their families and I need to love my mom and work it out with her.SO I KEPT GOING BACK FOR MORE WITH MOM BECAUSE I NEEDED HER LOVE SO BAD AND I THOUGHT THE PROBLEM WAS ME. Further, because I was so regressed I just sounded like a petulant child when I tried to talk about the abuse I had no accurate words for so nobody outside the experience really got it or could conceive how bad things really were for me… why would they? My family is extraordinarily fucked up, like nobody I have ever known.

In college, nobody comes to check on me and make sure Im ok. Nobody was calling. Id get rare emails or letters. When I would tell mom how hard it was, mom would mock me and tell me to suck it up when I would reach out to her and “complain” about how things were going for me… See, because its always my fault and Im never measuring up.

An aside: To this day, 40 years later, Jim2 has yet to even send me a single email to check and make sure Im ok or get to know me at all. He has never responded to the multiple emails I have sent him, so I stopped reaching out. I used to cry to mom about it and she would tell me that he “has a busy life” and I had to understand that’s why I wasn’t a priority to him. Personally, I cant imagine anything being more important than making a connection with your little sister, but I guess Im biased and not like him: busy getting high and drunk and being a cool party guy.

During my college is when he married Lori. I worked over time and got a plane ticket to be at his wedding. I was sick to my stomach at the idea of having to be around my family but I love my brother and I wanted to be there. He ignored me the entire time I was there. I was a HUGE FUCKING DEAL that I could afford the ticket and made the effort to be there for him. I showed up for him….He ignored me. I was devastated and felt invisible and so worthless.

Another aside: I was 24 and that very first Christmas on the west coast Mom calls me, driving herself to the ER to get her stomach pumped from a suicide attempt. She was dramatically telling me her goodbye in case she didn’t make it. I was stressed and powerless beyond the telling of it. I cried all the way through that Christmas. Again: Mom always uses me as her emotional manipulation dumping ground. Out of all her children, Im the one with heart and she gets the sympathy she is working me over for.

During my college years, I would ask Mom for help she would mock me “Im sending baby Sava (MJs daughter) a care package…are you a baby? Do you need one too?”

Mean girl jealousy that I went to college and her life was taken from her by her children….

In college I had no friends, just Mark. No time for activities and my mental health was so fragile I had no ability to form friendships. I was barely hanging on. I would be catatonic in my time at home. We had this geometry screensaver on the computer and I would be frozen staring at it for hours while my brain felt like it was going to shatter. I was an absolute wreck and a shell of a person…but I was determined to prove I could graduate college and I wasn’t a fuck up. I wanted Mom to be proud of me.

I guess it should come as no surprise that after 4 years of no time off, working and schooling 80 hours a week, getting zero support emotionally or financially from my family …. that absolutely NOBODY FROM MY FAMILY CAME TO CELEBRATE ME AT MY GRADUATION.

Nobody came. Nobody celebrated me. Nobody saw the value in me or my hard work.

I remember being on the phone with Jim2 the day of my graduation. I had called him to ask why he wasn’t there for me. I was in tears. He told me that if that was the worst thing that ever happened to me, congratulations on your nice life. He thought it was bullshit that I was so upset. He thought I was being a baby. This loser dropped out of college which he had a scholarship for and did nothing with his life but drugs and alcohol and saw no value in me or what I did on my own. He didn’t show up for me.

Me going to college and graduating on time with full credits was a major fucking accomplishment on so many levels.

Not one of my family was there for me and I will never forgive or forget that.

We moved to the same fucking town Mary Jane was in when she was in college and never ONCE did anyone come to check on me and be interested in what I was doing or validate how amazing it was that I was in school and making it happen on my own.

When I talk about how alone I feel in life, its in my bones.

I had worked over time to get Mom a plane ticket so she would be there for my graduation and she called me a couple days before to tell me pathetically “She couldn’t get the day off work.” (Lie: I think she has some legal issue and couldn’t leave the state or something like that.)

After she called to bail on my graduation… at 27 years old… I had a heart attack on my walk home. I collapsed in my living room. Mark found me on the floor when he got home from work. She literally broke my heart. I was devastated. I was in shock. I was dissociating. I was so fucked up. I needed help. Poor Mark. He didn’t know what was wrong and neither did I.

Shortly after my graduation, MJ graduated and she drove to see her and was sure to tell me about it. I mean, they are BFFs so, no surprises there. GO TEAM MARY ELLEN, right?

Whats wrong with you Melissa? My family. My family is whats wrong with me.

During college I was stressed to the point of being catatonic when I wasn’t at work or school. My mental health was tanking in every possible way… but the pressure cooker of school and work kept me hemmed in and my desire to prove that I was someone worth loving (because god knows I wasn’t going to be loved just for being me…No one was simply going to show up for me or simply be there. I had to earn it.)

…. then we moved to Seattle and I had three years at Amazon in that pressure cooker of a job… (10 to 14 hours a day, 6 days a week) working as a Lead running a team of 200 people to keep me too busy to feel my feelings or connect to emerging myself.

At some point after I graduated and it no longer mattered, I remember MJ came to visit me one time. That was nice of her. Thank you for trying, MJ.

But heres the fun part: Mark. Mark loved me.

Mark is the very first and to this day ONLY person who has been intimately involved in my life who loves and respected me just as I am.

It was Mark loving me that allowed me to start developing a voice and for that very young very traumatized person inside of me to start coming to the surface. Mark was the very best thing that has ever happened to me….and, ironically, it was because he loved me that all that evil finally came to the surface…and was our demise.

All the things dad did to me, all the never ending abuse from mom that sought to vilify and demoralize me… all of the hurt from the abandonment from my brothers and sisters… all that evil came up because he Loved me enough to make me feel safe and supported…I just didn’t know that then and couldn’t see or feel that he was the most tremendous gift this life has ever given me ….

and I started sexually assaulting myself in my sleep (woke up one time with an entire box of tampons inside of me and had to go to the doctor to get them all out). I would throw punches in my sleep. I was having an utter mental breakdown/ breakthrough… and then I started acting out sexually with other men that I met online. I felt like I was being puppet mastered from some evil unknown source. I was manic and acting out sexually. That default programing from my childhood was calling the shots. I didn’t have a sense of self so I was acting from what I knew and what Dad taught me about myself and the self-worth that mom made sure I didn’t have.

I say acting out sexually. What I should say is reenacting the trauma…which there was so very much of. I was on auto pilot and at that time if you asked me if that’s what I wanted to be doing I would have said yes out of programming but the core truth of who I am knew it was not at all right or who I am or what I wanted…that core didn’t have a voice yet.

2001, Amazon had laid us all off. I got hired working at a treatment center for abused youth. I was major depressive and would be fetal position on the floor and cry for a month at a time but I didn’t know why or what was wrong… I was just deeply goddamn depressed and wanted to die. All the time. Goddamn. Let it end.

Poor Mark. He didn’t know what was happening. He was the perfect boyfriend. He tried so hard to help me. I honestly could not have asked for a more perfect man to come in to my life…and he was stuck with me. Mentally fucked Melissa with no clue what was wrong… and worst of all, I thought I had to get out of my relationship with Mark.

Crazy,right?….I asked Mom for help. She had no relationship with me and no clue what was going on in my life…She is a complete train wreck of a human and so deep in her own denial and so wrapped up in her latest abusive relationship with a rich man that she could honestly give a fuck about me and thought the worst of me anyway… so yeah, break up with him and oh my god Melissa I don’t know what to do with you.

I kept cheating on him over and over again. I was off the rails with my manic depression. Spending, fucking, driving my car too fast…. Through a chat room, I got mixed up with a man that felt like Dad to me and I was entranced and captive to him. Mark asked me to marry him and I broke up with him, moved out.. I was off the rails with the sexual acting out/re traumatizing myself.

(Mark immediately met the woman he has since married and has been with for the past 18 years. I would give anything to have that man back in my life…Throughout these years, my memory of how he treated me has been the standard by which I have held all other men and nobody measures up….Beyond his character and integrity, the art, music and intelligence that lives within this handsome and kind man is incomparable. I blew it. Fuck. I pushed away the most incredible man I ever knew and he loved me. I still love him to this day.)

At that same time I heard a rumor at work that one of the counselors (reggie, 24) had slept with a client(raya,16). I knew reggie was capable of it (I had slept with him) so I reported it to the Unit manager, Big Mike. ……What I didn’t know is that Reggie, Mike and the guy I was so into, Cash were all friends who grew up together and in the same gang……

and so it was that month that I moved out from Mark that the man that I was so “in love with”, Cash, drugged me at a house party and raped me with 4 of his friends to teach me a lesson for reporting Reggie.

I remember sharing a beer with Cash and then feeling tired and dizzy and asking to lay down and then multiple hours of being barely coherent and having no control over my body and being passed around for everyone to fuck over and over again.

Cash was a sex trafficker and grooming me all along. No wonder he felt like home. My need for family and my daddy issues in full effect, I couldn’t break the spell. I was terrified of him and wanted him to think I was so sexy…..He was masterful with the mindfuck and kept me under his thumb at all times which felt like attention and love to me and was intense enough that I could feel it.

At that time, in Washington, you had a statue of limitations of 8 years to report a rape.

Mind you, I was so dissociative and still had no idea I was a person or had any rights to my thoughts or my body… I was really goddamn checked out at that point in my life….I was in shock. The childhood assault trauma was just surfacing and I had no words for it because it had been normalized and my feelings negated by my parents So, I didn’t know if I had been raped or not….it took me years to figure out that its wrong to drug someone and have all your friends fuck them…

I didn’t know I should or could ask for help. I didn’t believe I could be helped. I didn’t think anyone would help me. I didn’t know I was a person. I didn’t know I had rights. I didn’t know I could escape or how.

ANYONE CONFUSED ABOUT WHY I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO GET HELP OR THAT I DESERVED IT???????

Whats wrong with you, Melissa?

In the meanwhile, Cash was making sure I wouldn’t report it.

He knew I was away from Mark, had a history of sexual assault and no family, and that I lived in absolute poverty so there was zero chance I could escape him.

I was in so much trouble. I needed help. I called Mom. I explained that it all to her. I explained that they were a gang. That it was sex trafficking… that I needed help…. To which she said “Let them play godfather. Whats the worst they can do?”….. (nice way to minimize the extreme danger I was in and negate me as a person, don’t you think?)

that bitch loves to see me suffer and struggle, doesn’t she. Doesn’t it make her look amazing when I look like shit? So she didn’t help me. She shit talked me to the rest of the family like I wanted to be in that situation because I was trash. Nobody helped me.

I remember talking to Mary Jane around that time explaining that I was getting counseling and she, like mom, shamed me and told me I didn’t have bipolar or something like that… She was Team Mary Ellen all the way and me getting counseling was just attention seeking or something like that.

See, this is why MJ and I have never been friends or close. I cant trust her. Shes not someone I think of as an ally. Sorry about that, MJ. Im not trying to be mean but… look at why I think that.

I really do look up to her though. She is so smart and capable. But I cant trust her and this is why.

By the way, here’s just a few of examples of the worst they can do while “playing Godfather”: They were so invested in making sure I never spoke about the rape they made sure I was living in such constant fear for my life (mental domination) that I was too scared to talk to anyone about it:

*They had voyeur cameras in my house…that they were making money off of.

*They had software on my laptop to collect all my personal data (social security, passwords, answers to security questions) so I am owned by them to this day.

*They had GPS on my car to track me everywhere I went and would leave notes on my car to let me know I was constantly being watched.

*They flipped my therapists office and stole all her files to make sure there was no record

*They poisoned my dog every day for a month while I was at work…I would come home to Milo cowering in the corner like he had been abused all day long and diarrhea all over the floor until one day I yelled out in my home with nobody there that I would find Cashs son and do the same to him…and I went online and found his childs home address…yelled that out to my empty apartment…and after that day Milo was never sick again….

*Then there are the 2 times they broke into my apartment in the middle of the night, drugged me in my sleep and did whatever and dumped me at the park. One of those time I woke up with half my face slack and paralyzed as though I had a stroke. By the grace of god I got the feeling back but to this day its still a little droopy.

*They sent their equally psycho boy Alex into my life to keep watch on me. He was horribly mentally abusive. I was so broken and demoralized. I needed to get away. Instead, I got pregnant. Alex also gave me syphilis ..and so I had an abortion. I had to get two Orders of Protection to get Alex away from me. When I called mom for help with the pregnancy, she was off the rails hysterical and I was yet even more scared and alone. Mom blamed me for all of it. Further evidence Im trash. I got pregnant by a mistake by a black man.

There is more, I mean it was 8 years of daily torture… but I think you get the idea. Complete mental domination was the name of their game.

I had no friends. None. I was so fucked up. I was terrified to speak to anyone because everything felt like danger. Just these men showing up when they felt like to to fuck me and terrorize me. Eight years. My 30s. I was miserable beyond the telling of it.

Whats wrong with you Melissa. I needed help. I was so scared. I needed my family. I got yelled at and shamed. I was so alone. I wanted to die. I was so depressed and fucked up. Goddamn. Let it end. And the worst of it all is that I really didn’t even have myself. I never had a chance to be safe enough to develop a self. I was a shell of a human. I was out of my head. I was so checked out with the PTSD and the trauma of it all. I was scared to be alive. Soul fracturing is real.

This was how I spent my 30s. Somehow pulling myself together to go to work during the day because I didn’t want to be homeless, coming home and having a total mental collapse at night and all the while being mentally tortured by a gang of sex traffickers and when I reached to my family for help I got blamed for being a fucked up piece of shit.

I had no one. When I talk about my isolation and how alone I am, its cumulative. Its all this and more.

I don’t need to volunteer at a shelter on Christmas to be with someone for the holidays. I don’t need to get a dog. I need family. I need to be validated on a daily basis that I matter and am loveable just as I am. I need someone safe who is simply there. I need people in my life who celebrate me without me asking. I need people who are there for those simple mundane acts of living that define us…I need to come home to love.

The miracle: I kept myself employed and was successful in my corporate career path, I kept myself housed, and drug and alcohol free the entire time. I had the where with all to get counselling and try to work through my shit. I never gave up on myself even though I didn’t yet know who I am and my family had absolutely written me off from day one.

Then the Recession happened. I, of course, had never learned money management skills so there really wasn’t any savings to rely on. I was comfort eating like a motherfucker, I had student loans, a car payment and insurance and a foolishly large and expensive apartment, I had these lecherous men that were taking advantage of me financially too… I was manic depressive… I was paying for counselling (which if I am not mistaken over the years has totaled $100k) But to be honest, I don’t know where my money went… so when the Recession hit it took about 2 months before I was selling off everything I own and living in my car….where I stayed for the next year with my dog.

Nobody help me stay safe or in my integrity. I had no friends in Seattle to turn to. Mom told me to put my things in garbage bags and throw it all away…take the dog to the pound… and work with my counselor (she was angry about me getting help because she perceived it as being me trying to vilify her and this was her chance to punish me for getting help) and find a shelter to check in to because I wasn’t welcomed at her home.

Let me say that again: My mom knew I was losing everything, told me to throw my life away, dump my kid at the pound and told me to check into a shelter, I wasn’t welcomed at her home.

MY MOM.

Shes sees me as trash. She threw me away. Doesn’t she look amazing when Im failing?

Work in Seattle was impossible to find. I literally had 700 resumes out. Understand, I have held a job consistently since I was 15 years old and somehow mom thought this moment was me being a lazy piece of shit and just trying to manipulate her for money when I asked for help.

Sure. Ok.

I spent the next year in my car with no money coming in other than whatever odd jobs I could grab on craigslist to make my car payment. I drove back to North Carolina to seek help from my friends and my brother. My friends back home were not in a position to help me in any long lasting way but bless them all for what they did…

but Jim 2, who lives in Raliegh, was. He just declined. He made me a sandwich…told me there was nothing he could do for me (he has three houses)…and I spent the night in my car outside my brother’s house.

I had an ex acquaintance from Seattle who lived in Raleigh. He was part of the abuser sex trafficking gang. He let me sleep on the floor but would beat the shit out of me if I tried to sleep on the couch. I was so demoralized and out of my head, I needed literally anyone to be there for me….so, I stayed there, on the floor, for a month.

My brother was 15 minutes away, could have kept me safe but my brother chose to do nothing to help me.

Whats wrong with you Melissa. My family. Definitely gonna say my family.

When it was clear that North Carolina wasn’t going to be any better for work than Seattle I decided to drive back to the west coast. I had to drive through Texas and I didn’t stop at Moms house. I didn’t even try. Why would I? I was so hopeless and out of my head with depression and PTSD. I was screaming into the great black nothing. I was cutting myself all over to get the evil out. I would punch my own face black and blue from self loathing… again, thinking it was all my fault and that I was defective. I mean… my own family didn’t want me. Nobody did. It was me. I was a horrible piece of shit and deserved to die. Nobody loved or wanted me. Nobody kept me safe. I was deeply lost in the void. I wanted to die. Goddamn. Let it end.

That year in the car was by far worse than the 8 years of being tortured by sex traffickers or the 13 years of living with my sex predator father or the 7 years of being stuck in bumfuck North Carolina with my moms abuser boyfriend stealing the show.

Without question having nobody and knowing that nobody cares if you are safe, in your integrity, have a door to lock, privacy of any kind, if you are fed or showered… knowing for a demonstrated fact that there is not a single person on earth who cares enough to validate your humanity is the absolute worst feeling I have ever known. Being completely dehumanized, demoralized, erased. I begged for death.

Whats wrong with you Melissa?

Fun fact: during that time, instead of helping me or offering me a job at her business doing the exact job I did so well at Amazon (I asked for one and told her I would sleep in the attic at the office and she told me No), to mock me and show me what a failure I am and that I was just trying to manipulate her for money because Im a lazy loser

Mom went to her local Costco and applied for a job to show me how easy it was for her to get hired.

I mean, if youre going to be void of a soul, you should really go for it. Kudos, Mom.

I drove through California on the way back home to Seattle and met my sister Patty for the first time. We look like two peas in a pod. We think exactly the same. She is undeniably my sister. It was the most incredible feeling.

For the first time in my entire life I actually felt and thought the same as someone else.

She casually declined to introduce me to her family. They kept looking at me incredulously because we look just the same… but she would shoo them away when they would come over to talk. I met her at her restaurant and then she took me to her palatial home. She has a huge family. She had tons of photo albums… and then she started talking about Dad…like she was in a trance and talking about a favorite lover… it was clear that Dad had sexualized her and maintained that relationship with her well into her adult life and that was the reason she had no contact with us and didn’t want a deeper relationship with me. One conversation was all I got with her. I slept in my car outside her home. My sister didn’t help me. Whats wrong with you Melissa???

In one shot from LA I drove back to Seattle. I figured out that the Queen Anne neighborhood had the lowest crime rate so I parked there. I was so sick to death of all the nights that year that I would wake up with someone trying to break in to the car. Thank god I had Milo with me. He saved me multiple times from intruders that year. My body was a wreck from car living and shit food. My mental health beyond destroyed. I was really just done. Run through. All the way run through.

I did a brief stint staying in Silverdale with my friend from NC that I managed to re connect with on my drive back… but the hour drive into Seattle from Silverdale was too much so I lumped it and just slept in my car in Queen Anne once I secured my job…..

I went in to Top Pot Doughnuts every day for a month and demanded a job until they gave me one. I was 8 weeks into that job, still sleeping in the car but I had forward momentum when I totaled the car. I had the very last car payment in the seat next to me I had worked so fucking hard to maintain my payments in good faith despite it all and come out of that situation with my car but nope…fuck me. I was on my way to the gym and I was giving myself a pep talk telling myself everything was going to be ok….and I ate it…40 miles an hour into a stopped truck on the West Seattle Bridge. Entirely my fault. Milo went to the pound. All my earthly belongings went to the impound yard. I went to the ER…. And I called every single person I knew and who I thought could help me.

Just when you think you have nothing left, turns out you can go lower. Nobody returned my call.

Me, the unwanted, loveable piece of shit. I could die and nobody cared. Whats wrong with you Melissa?

I got out of the hospital, I had made contact with my online friend Rishad and he let me stay for a couple days… BLESS HIM… In those two days I got on the bus. I took the bus that goes through Capitol Hill and up to Queen Anne where my job was. I wrote down every apartment for rent phone number I could see and I started making calls. In the first true lucky break I had in years, this apartment manager woman at a really sweet little apartment on the hill heard me out…heard my story… it was the 15th of the month. I had my car payment check and I cashed it and gave her the money… She gave me the keys and a wink and told me I could move in “on the first”, that’s what the money I gave her would pay for…. and that she definitely didn’t know anything about a dog so no pet fee was needed.

I went right upstairs, LOCKED MY OWN DOOR and laid on the floor with literally nothing left to my name and cried so fucking hard.

I had whiplash from the accident. I fractured 4 molars on my steering wheel and over the years as my dentist promised they have slowly one by one fallen out of my face. I had broken both my feet and wracked my knees…. But I had a place that was my own and a job and that’s all that mattered.

I went right to the pound the next day and got Milo. I went to the impound lot and got what was left of my life. I missed a sum total of two days of work…. I was so thankful to have a job again I blocked out the pain from my broken body and I just kept going.

(Mind you the only thing Mom has ever been proud of me for in my lifetime is losing weight. That’s what got her attention…that’s what she was impressed by. I went on a diet.)

That next year, I lost 70 pounds at the gym. I perceived my training team as the family I never had and I was good at lifting weights. They weren’t honestly my friends or family but it was something consistent and I needed that stability and I needed them so fucking bad. It took 5 years to start to return to a somewhat functioning human... Lifting helped me get back into my body and stop checking out so much. My nutrition plan made me focus on myself every moment of every day…and nothing beats depression like clean food and working out. Structure and consistency.

My PTSD was off the rails though. I was worse than a soldier coming back from war…I never signed up for that shit and it started when I was a child. I was suffering. I wanted to die. Every moment of every day. I was miserable to be around. Nobody wanted to be my friend. So, trust me…just work and the gym with my illusion that people were there for me and me inappropriately and overly attached to them.

The irony is that I looked amazing and strong and I was, yes. The reality is that I wanted to die. I begged for death. I had two suicide attempts in those years….I surprised myself and cut my wrist with my house keys on the way to work one day and another time I walked into traffic but the car swerved.

Coming out of all that happened and processing all that trauma took more will power and resolve than anything I have ever done. It was so dark. I felt demon possessed. I was out of my head. I would find myself walking out of my place into public with no skirt on just my tights or other crazy shit like that. I was talking to myself, having heated arguments with nobody there all the fucking time. I was punching myself in the face. I was cutting and other such self harm.

It was really bad. I was hurting so fucking much.

And, I had another sociopath boyfriend taking full advantage of my disadvantage…keeping me fucked up because it kept me there for him. Thomas was in my life for 7 years. Absolute Scum. But he was the only person who would show up in person for me. I needed to be held. I was so out of my head and I still had no friends in my life…just people on the internet.… So again, this familiar situation: I just let him use me so I could have literally anyone there. The social and emotional isolation was killing me and I was convinced I was in love. He felt like home. He kept telling me we would be together if I waited. That he loved me. That I was the Key! I was the only time he was happy. The reality was he wouldn’t speak to me during the week. He would just show up on a Friday or Saturday night when he felt like it, from 1am to 3am…literally show up with his dick out to fuck me…very often wouldn’t speak to me when he was there…then he would leave and that was what I considered my relationship and love. It was about 2 years into our “relationship” that the truth slowly started to surface that he was in a long term relationship and he lived with her….

The details of how twisted he is and how he manipulated my daddy issues is disgusting. How he used neglect to keep me working so hard for him to be there and begging for his attention….really sick.

He felt like home which is the worst part. He was exactly like home.

It took me three years at the doughnut shop to get emotionally stabilized enough to make a plan for next steps. I was too emotionally fragile to go back to corporate work or be in an office environment. I knew I wanted to go to massage school and I really thought it could be an answer for me even though Mary Jane and mom had previously shamed and mocked me when I said I wanted to go. Mom didn’t think I could be anything better than a waitress. She told me to stop complaining that I hated my work and just go do it.

It was around this time that I had to move out of the apartment because they raised the rent by double on my sweet apartment and I found my way into squatting in my Art studio, where I have been for the past 7 years.

This studio has been so needed and healed me in so many ways. It is private enough to have a complete mental collapse and since it was a former isolation tank/jail… Nobody can get in here….bars over the windows and a steel door…so, I could sleep at night for the first time in years. The rent is crazy affordable which allowed me to go to school and later afford activities to try to learn social skills and be a real person in the world…. This place is my everything.

When I had my first art show… consisting of the photos that I took when I was living in my car. One of the ways I survived and changed my paradigm to get out of the car alive was that I would walk around and task myself with Looking through the eyes of Love. I would try to find one thing each day that I could see beauty in so I could continue to see good in the world…thus my collection of flower photos that I maintain to this day as my gratitude practice.

Mom picked up the phone and called me the night of my show.

(Mind you, she has never been there for me. Over the years since she kicked me out I think we have talked on the phone maybe 10 times. There have been years where she refused to give me her phone number…she made a game of it for years…I would email and ask for it she would say she was going to give it to me in her reply but never would. Then she finally did and a week later she changed it again. Psycho. Another time I can remember a time we talked on the phone and I ended by saying I love you and she was silent and struggled to say it back. Whats incredible is that she has always pretended to be someone who knows me and knows whats going on in my life and talks about it with such authority. This is a narcissistic abuser in action. What she was doing was scanning my social media and whatever scraps of information she could get and twisting it into whatever story she needed to support her storyline about me being a problem child and a fuck up and what a wonderful mother she is so she could continue to live in denial. She cant face the past and she has never done any work to own her part or apologize. So, now Ive cut her off. She does things now like call the place where I get my mail and had the people who run the PO box office tell me my mother called and she is worried about me and she asked them for whatever information they had on me -so I had to get a new PO Box place where the owners have English as a distant 2nd language- or she will go through my friends list on social media and contact people to see if they will keep tabs on me for her and share her story about what a problem I am and how she is just a loving mother who I have scorned and of course people believe her. She said the magic word: Mother. Nobody would suspect what kind of Mother she actually is and they see me all angry, regressed emotionally like a child and so fucked up and struggling in the world so she must me right about me, yeah? Text book actions when you try to break away from a Narcissist)

So…I get into the studio and Im all set up for my show and she called me to say this: “So, youre having an art show huh? You think youre so great. Youre still alone though aren’t you? (the mean girl was jealous that I somehow retained a sense of self and did something neat to be proud and again, she wanted to punish me…the woman is demented.) You know, the longest relationship you’ve ever had is with that damn dog.” And then she laughed at me. Made some shit comment about my basement studio “not having air” and some other bullshit and we ended the call. My party guests were arriving. My self-confidence was missing in action for the rest of my night. Nice, right? That’s my mom.

Shortly after I get in to the Studio Milo got sick. Really really sick. As I promised him from day one, I would never let him suffer for my own selfish reasons…. So, I rented a car, took him to the vet and had him put down. The love of my life and my great protector. This sweet soul that was my constant source of love and hope for 14 years. When I posted on my facebook thread about his passing, mom commented that she was devastated at her loss. Because, you know… Milos death, this dog that she wanted me to throw away, was about how it impacted HER. …yeah….ok.

I want to mention out of the context of a clear timeline that somewhere in here I trained for and ran two Tough Mudders. They are 12 mile courses with 20 really fucking hard obstacles. They are designed to be run with a team. I ran them both solo because nobody wanted to join me. On the days that I went to the events, neither my Trainer or the man I was so in love with, Thomas, sent me as much as a good luck text to wish me well or acknowledge my accomplishment. My previously 215 pound ass had shrunk to 140 pounds and, at 40 years old ran a team event solo and made it through in TWO AND A HALF HOURS completing every single obstacle, no excuses…. And nobody who should have been excited and invested in my success said a word.

I was still invisible. I still did not matter. I was still not celebrated by the people who should have been there for me.

I want to point this out: Even I did not think I mattered or what I was doing was noteworthy. I was still so checked out and erased to myself that it didn’t click in my head that my life and all that I was doing and surviving was me doing the impossible.

My friend Luke (who I met online dating but I knew we were meant to be solid friends for life) made a point to come with me to the first Tough Mudder. He spent the entire day out there and he took photos of me… He is the reason that I can now reflect on what I did and actually SEE MYSELF. That gift is immeasurable. Luke evidenced me. Im here today as a whole person in part because of him. Also of note, the transition time between the apartment and the studio: Luke let me stay with him. He kept me safe and he was my sounding board and my true friend. I have nothing but the deepest most heartfelt love and respect for him. His story is equally harrowing and he is a miracle in action. Thank you Luke. I love you. Youre in my inner circle for life.

Now that Milo was gone and I was feeling somewhat more stabilized as a human, I knew it was time to make my career plan and try to get into massage school. Here is the next great stroke of luck in my lifetime: I went to Discovery Point and I talked to the women that run the school I explained my situation and that I was completely broke. They let me go to school for free in those 9 months with the understanding that I would clean the school on the weekends, make what payments I could as I went along and work out a payment plan immediately after graduation and that they would hold my diploma until that was complete. OH SWEET MERCY.

My days during those 9 months were 17 hours long. I would manage the café in the morning 5am to 1pm, go to the gym to lift and run from 2 to 4, then to school from 5 to 10pm…all the while walking to get to each place. I was getting something like 12 miles a day. I did it. I made my 9 months of cleaning the school and keeping my life on track ( no cheering section, nobody doing laundry, cooking, keeping bills paid or there to comfort me but me: Whats new?) , I passed my exam and I was on track to move my life forward.

I feel like there should have been a celebration when I graduated because that’s fucking astounding…. but, hey… nothing happened, nobody in my life said a word of congratulations about it. Surprise.

I live alone. I have no friends beyond those that exist on the computer, acquaintances from community, and a few co workers that I have hung out with from time to time and I always make a big deal about that on social media which gives the illusion that I have people, but I really dont. My only contact with others is at work. I go home to an empty room and there is no support or comfort. Its really impossible to describe to people who have people what it is like to live with this constant isolation and utter lack of emotional intimacy and how it eats you alive…but this has been my life.

People who don’t understand tell me to get a dog or volunteer or pay for therapy for companionship. That’s a cruel tone deaf response. People need people and it is reasonable to want to be loved, intimately, from the outside in. What I want is to simply matter, and be loved and valued, and have someone who is there without having to do something to receive that…..

Because I have yet to be understood when I talk about it, I have for the most part stopped talking about my isolation that is to this day very real for me.

Im so lonely I just want to die. Whats new.

In the next year, I was waiting tables still and somehow managed to pay off $10k for my license… on a year where I only made $24k. again, no celebration when I told my co workers about it…. I thought it was a big deal.

During that year I went to the doctor and discovered that I was literally malnourished. I was pushing it too hard with working out and keeping everything on track and my personal trainer wasn’t actually reading the food journal I sent him each night… so I got pneumonia as well….but just kept going.

I also got my Personal Training Cert and my Nutrition Counseling cert that year and started working as a Personal Trainer while I looked for a Massage job. Things were lightening up for me. The tremendous crushing weight of my entire life was lightening up.

But the reality of who my Trainer was and what a fraud he was came to the light. He was sleeping with some of his clients and I have a laundry list of unethical things he, and his business partner, were doing. When I held him accountable that was the last straw for him. He was sick to death of weathering my PTSD and how fucked up and sick I was and how fucked up I was over Thomas all the goddamn time… and additionally I was calling out all the ways he was unethical: I was bad for business. I was bad for him in the fitness community.

He kept gaslighting me to try to get me to leave but that was my community for 5 years and I didn’t know what to do…….So, Matt did whats guys do: Shes crazy… and shit talked me throughout the fitness community. He kicked me out of his gym and I now have no gym to work out at and no trainers willing to work with me. Thanks Matt! Super appreciate you!

I maintained my own lifting program for another year but honestly, I was in it for the community and sense of belonging that I never had before in my life. Without that and with Matt shit talking me in the background so I had no support elsewhere my program started to slip…. Add to that, I had begun working full time in massage and my shoulder got burnt out. I have a repetitive stress injury from my Amazon days that was made worse at Tough Mudder when I got my arm yanked nearly out of its socket in an obstacle… so, Lifting started to fade… and honestly, I was burnt out on the regiment of it all. I needed a break. I deserved a huge break.

I think it was right around 2014 when Mom had me come to Houston for Thanksgiving as though we are friends or she was a Mom. The highlights of that visit include her telling me the reason I wasn’t welcome in Houston during the Recession was because her husband Rumi forbade it.

(I forgot to mention that all through the years of her being with Rumi she has painted this picture of him being physically and emotionally abusive. That she was hiding money to escape him and what a horror he is. She had some secret email account that she sent me emails from at one point and told me that she was trying to hack his email to see who he was having affairs with or some other drama….. but you know if you ask Jim2 who his best friend is, its Rumi…apparently they text all the time…so, you know…she loves to lie and paint these horrific pictures of who people are to support whatever her manipulation is to get sympathy or whatever pay off)

Anyway, While I was in Houston visiting her she was acting like everything was normal and fine and that I had just made up whatever it was that I went through during the Recession. She reminded me that since I “left home” at 18 she has had to give me something like $20k in support and implied what a burden I am and how I always have my hand out. She has kept track of the financial support she gave me as a parent and wanted me to feel like shit for needing her. Cool….

Another example of how mentally deranged she is: While I was there we went out to lunch. Mind you, I have maybe $100 to my name at that time. I offered to pay for lunch at this fast food place and after we ordered she commanded me to go pick a table. So I got a booth with a chair. I sat on the booth side so I was facing the café and could see her when she came out of the restroom… I waved her over and she sat in the chair. Unbeknownst to me, the booth side made me taller than the chair side…. She got this twisted angry look and became livid that I thought I was better than her. Paying for lunch and sitting above her like that….. The next day Mom and Rumi started playing a really fun game where they forgot my name and kept calling me “Savannah” (my niece) for the remainder of the time I was there …. You know… because at 44, they saw me as a child. Nothing like a little game of erasing your daughter’s person hood and replacing it with infantilism to let your daughter know you really see her and respect her.

I really hope this is making clear why I have a strict no contact in place with her that I will never change.

Now its 2017 and I get hired at my dream job. The Spa that I am at is beautiful. My co workers are the best. I make really fine money. My mental health is slowly coming together. I got Thomas out of my life and have enough mental clarity now to really see him for who he is. I had spent yet another holiday season alone and the isolation was killing me, as per usual…so I decided that the best thing for me to do to help pull me out of my PTSD and stop being so scared to be seen or heard would be to go to music school…. Learn how to make friends for the first time in my adult life and be with people who were not my co workers. Try to trust people again. Try to trust that I could be liked for who I am….though rejection has been a very prevalent theme in my life… Try to learn some social skills that I missed out on basically my entire life.

How to simply hang out and play….was brand fucking new to me. Music school was really really really hard… not to mention I have no musical ability and I get triggered by stress pretty quickly and freeze… but I knew it was the right thing to do to reparent the kid inside me who never learned to make friends or be in activities with others and who wanted to play drums…. So hell yeah. I did it.

Thank you to Katy,Tracy,Melissa,and Kiyan for coming out to see a couple of those shows and being there to support me. You have no idea how much that meant to me.

I thought if I could make friends there I would have people to go out with and maybe could have a chance to meet a man and have a relationship… but all the women there were married with children and had little interest in going out at night, and I still wasn’t fully integrated as a Self yet… so that was a bust.

Music school was really me making up for my 20s and 30s when I should have been out at shows and hanging with friends and making art and and dating but instead I was being mentally tortured by my entire life. I gave it a good shot, but Im a mixed media artist not a musician and that’s really that. I have to take it in stride: Bless my heart for trying. Thank you to all my bandmates for being so kind and supportive of me and for being stellar humans

I was in my first year of Music school when I met the most amazing man, Joe. He was magical. He honestly loved me for me and I loved him right back. It was fast and deep and I felt so completely seen and wanted by him and OH MY GOD I NEEDED THAT FOR SO LONG. He made incredible things happen and took me on dates that made me feel like a Queen…. But Joe was terminally ill and two months later took his own life. I was in shock again….but kept going as I do.

Also out of context of timeline: When I got into that sweet little apartment I would go down to Edge of the Circle which was just a couple blocks away and get Tarot readings from Raven and Kiyan. I didn’t know how to simply ask for friendship so I would buy Tarot readings to have someone to talk to. These two helped me so much in so many ways…through their compassion and through helping me develop my Self and my skills. Over and over again these two have shown up as real people who have treated me with integrity. People who genuinely care about me and support me in my developing personhood. Ive made it through because of them and so many others along the way.

The shitty thing about being knocked out of your self is that even though you have people around you who care, you often cant see it or feel it and like a dick minimize what people are doing for you because the all-consuming feeling that nobody is there is so much larger than the gentle loving efforts of those around you…. And what happens: you push away the people who are there for you because they have self-respect and youre unwittingly being a dick. I want to say Im really sorry about this because I know for sure Ive done this.

Also out of context of timeline: Somewhere in here I started working in Tarot and caught a lucky break and got hired at Percys to be their Reader. Huge shout out to Krista who made that so possible for me. That Tarot night did more for my sense of Self and well being than I can explain and I was a success there largely because Krista made it so beautiful and kept that night going for me.

I also want to say Thank you to Tracy, Katy, and of course Brian who were my friends and co workers at the RowHouse Café… through those early massage school years. Endless support and encouragement from these guys, even when I was too fucked up to really receive it or reflect it back. Im really lucky to have met you and have had you in my life.

It was right around the solar eclipse and the night before that hurricane hit and flooded Houston and moms house got flooded that I emailed her a long list of things she had done that hurt me and explained that I would be taking time away from her and Id let her know when we could speak again. The next morning after I sent that email I again felt puppet mastered…. But this time by the little kid inside me… I literally woke up, jumped out of bed and started to dance. I was filled with glee. I was amazed by myself. I don’t know where that came from except to say that the kid inside me was OVERJOYED to be free of her.

In the coming years I kept proving to myself that I wont let her back in and that Im safe now… and as I have been staying true to this practice of not letting her, or anyone like her, back in my life… I have become happier and more whole as a human being…. More capable of making good choices in friends and finances….

She made an attempt to contact me around the holidays this year. I saw her call but let it go to voice mail. The message she left was something to the tune of her wanting to know if I had forgiven her yet and gotten over it. …See, because its about me and what I need to do because its my damage that is the problem here…. Nothing had changed with her. It was still my fault. No apology. No self reflection. Had I forgiven her yet. For fucks sake: I will never forgive her.

I have learned to celebrate myself, take my self on vacations and to my great delight I had friends who spent time with me and took care of me!!!!!! Incredible!!!!!, give myself the compassion and nurturing that I always wished I had and reasonably should have had from my family. I have been working on being able to see the love that is there for me from the people that I have in my life, though I still struggle with that. I have been working so hard on Self Love, Self Respect, Healthy boundaries, creating safety and stability in my life in all way and I know that Im doing great work because my inner me, those little kids inside of me that needed a parent are really responding to the parenting Im giving them…. Check this out:

A month or so after I declined her call I was out at the café in my neighborhood, having a treat and a coffee and doing some writing. I was sitting at the table and this incredible feeling came over me as though a golden light was shining on me and I could see it glittering down on me. I started laughing and crying like when you cum really hard and youre filled with ecstasy and bliss. And then I had a vision of being in a hospital room that was in the forest… it was just two walls of the room and then the woods…I could see deer and birds. In the hospital bed there was a person in a full body cast. The cast had moss growing on it and tiny sprouts of pine trees. The Doctor walked in to the room to check on the patient. I was both the Doctor and the Patient. I told myself: Hey, its time to get you out of there. And I grabbed my circle saw and started to cut my cast from end to end and crack to open like a sarcophagus. I told myself Welcome Back! We are so glad you are here!!! Go slow, take your time getting up. No rush.

I was so elated. I walked home immediately. Upon arriving at my studio I had another vision of all the ages of myself, down to the youngest and up to the oldest and wisest all linking hands. I recognized these women as my Sisters/MySelf… all of us agreed that the next would watch out for the next and that nobody would ever hurt us again. SOUL RECLAMATION.

For the first time in my life I am here, in this body, in this present moment. The first time in my life I am ME. Im currently 6 months in to my actual LIFE. THIS IS ME. I AM HERE. OH MY GOD. I MADE IT.

Yes now, of course, the world is ending and my career in massage is tenuous at best and I might be fucked again…. But so not worried because honestly, Ive survived worse with less. So I will figure this out and keep myself alive, housed and fed.

Over the years my attempts to talk it out with Mom were pointless… she would erase my feelings and angrily tell me that it was hard on all of us. She would hold no space for me and just be my mom and have some compassion for her baby girl. Nope: It was hard on all of us so stop complaining… but see, I was a child and they were my parents and that was my family and I had no choice…. So really, at this point, Im done. Im better off on my own.

I don’t know what else to say other than those yearly years were tremendously bad for everyone in my family, yes. I can now at this time in my life see and understand why everyone did what they did…. That my parents were also victims of abuse from their parents and all that and yeah, I have compassion and Im really sorry they had to go through that….But it doesn’t make it ok or make mom someone I will let back in my life. I mean, I went through it and Ive dedicated my lifes work to helping others heal and I try to be so good to everyone around me so…. No excuses. And, I still have questions like: Fuck, why did dad never go to jail? Im guessing it was about the money…..and really, how did nobody in my family see that I needed help?

Anyway… Ive done epic amount of self work to be here today as a whole person and really change my reality to one where I have value and can share love. Im still working on it… My social anxiety is still the worst. I can barely form words into sentences when Im out in public and I dont have a job to do as my role to play....but you know, I keep trying and its easier and keeps getting easier… and I have amazing friends like Brad to have mini adventures with… and I have my Studio to do my art in and now that Im feeling so much more whole as a person I think I might actually see some work through to completion that I can be proud of… and I have a job that I love and Im getting training for some other skills to expand my skillset and I feel that things can only get better from here so

I feel so lucky to be alive and so fucking grateful to be me and I really like myself. It’s a miracle. All things are possible if you just remember: LOVE IS THE KEY and keep moving in that direction.

That’s my experience and now you know.

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mothmansfriend · 5 years

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when i’m sad oh god i’m sad (pt. 2)

link to pt. 1

follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au after the mention of Remus possibly having undiagnosed bipolar disorder

update: i think its important to acknowledge roughly where this takes place in the big timeline bc D doesn’t really drink past freshman yr in this AU because of self preservation and trauma, alcoholism was more an issue before then in high school (when remus and d were Rowdy Boys) but the stress of Logan’s concussion lead to some heavy drinking that was caught quickly by Virgil because Remus Cannot Keep Secrets.

summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.

tw: graphic descriptions of a depressive episode, self harm (burning), suicidal thoughts, and suicidal intent (but not attempt). unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, mentioned alcoholism, undiagnosed mental illness, miscommunications on shared trauma, ask to tag if i missed any.

There are a number of places that are simply uncomfortable to sleep. Barely sitting up and using the chairs provided by the previous tenants as a pillow is certainly one of them. It takes Remus a moment to identify what woke him up as there's another round of knocking on his door and he doesn’t want to respond. It’s bright out,the sun is blocked from his figure by the curtains covering most of the windows. He hears Roman’s muffled voice as the locked doorknob jiggles, “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is”.

Their footsteps move away and Virgil speaks, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that-” his voice fades as they enter the kitchen.

Remus can barely pick himself off the floor before his phone lit up with a notification.

the shittier twin: You good? LMK when you’re coming home, Virgil is lowkey freaking out (received: 10:14)

He stares at the words willing his brain to focus as he decides, maybe he should reply.

He sends a photo of a fat pigeon he took outside a club him and D got kicked out of a few weeks ago. It would be clear that the picture was taken at a different time, but does get message of ‘I’m alive’ across. Which is about as much as Remus is willing to communicate to people that haven’t even tried to contact him before now. How sad is it that his twin brother didn’t even check on him until six days later. Or maybe he should be asking if it’s sad that after four days Roman still hasn’t noticed that he’s home, or that it took Roman six to even ask? Remus spends all this time in the theatre and in the arts studio, and still Roman was the only one to ask, though at the request of someone who wants to get mad at him. He considers if maybe that he is a bad person, and that isn’t something he normally would care about, but if he weren’t then people might have checked on him. He usually hangs out with D almost everyday and he swears he’s never been gone more than maybe four days. But no one else seems concerned at all.

He considers reasons why this might be and gets stuck on Roman’s comment that he hasn’t been gone that long, and the implications then of him being gone longer. Things that don’t really make sense, but he knows losing your train of thought and getting distracted is a part of ADHD, but maybe, this is much more concerning. How does he know that he’s only ever been gone so long, maybe those lapses are more than a few minutes of zoning out. Which leads to, does Remus know who he is during these lapses? The contrast between the two prince twins have always been clear in their behaviour, Roman who follows every word their parents whisper in his ear. The boy grew up to be an actor after years of who takes any command without thought at that chance to be on top, and revelled in praise. It’s the cowards way of survival, are you really living if you’re not you? He knows Roman wasn’t quite loving that, but he still complied. Remus has always known exactly who he is and who he always will be. But the uncertainty of who he is in those spaces that seem to be taking up more and more space, maybe he;s been following someones script too?

He’s constantly changing his mind and forgetting where he is, are his feelings his? If everything the thought he knew about himself is slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass than how does he make it stop?

—

Virgil slides into the recently empty chair next to Roman the second Patton gets up to ask the waitress for another round of coffee, he steals one of Roman’s sausages and speaks, “By the way, I’m catching a ride to your place with you and D”.

Roman squawks at the sausage thief, “Why? I already told you Remus isn’t home!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know, just humour me. I went to talk to Joan before we left and Thomas said Remus texted to apologize for missing practice, he’s never done that before! I just wanna come check, you can make fun of me later or whatever.”

“Fine, whatever, I know you’d just show up anyway. I don’t think him texting Thomas means anything though, even if it is weird.”

“Well we can agree to disagree then.”

—

The entry to the apartment the Prince twins share with D was just as full of banter as expected. D and Roman irritating Virgil without effort but Virgil matching that with his own comebacks and determination to check on Remus. “Alright, Emo Knightmare, let’s go knock on his cave door so I can know you again, that he isn’t home” Roman drops his bag next to the couch and heads down the shared hallway of D, Remus, and the storage closet. D walks past him with comments of a essay due tomorrow and disappears. Roman walks down and knocks on the door sternly once maintaining eye contact with Virgil knowing there will not be a response. Virgil follows him and he knocks again after a moment and jiggles the knocked door handle. “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is.” Roman turns and leads them back out into the living room towards the kitchen.

Virgil pauses for a moment watching the door before he follows, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that he actually texted to apologize for not showing up today. You know when Remus is out he never remembers to charge his phone, it just seems weird.”

Roman exhales and wordlessly pulls out his phone shooting off a text to his twin before pulling some leftovers out of the fridge to offer to Virgil despite the fact they had eaten not long ago. Virgil accepts and he puts it on two plates for the microwave. Roman’s phone vibrates on the counter with a text. The emo leans over to read and snorts, “Wait, is Remus’s name actually ‘the shittier twin’ in your phone? He just send a picture of what appears to be an obese pigeon, that doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Roman shrugs, “Of course it is, and yeah that sounds about right, it’s like he’s trying to communicate through hieroglyphics, he’s just telling us he’s fine.”

Virgil’s dark eyes examine Roman’s face for any reflection that he’s just trying to make him stop bothering him with his concern, but when he sees nothing he drops his defensiveness, “Yeah, okay, he’s your brother, he’s kind of like a cat I guess. He always comes home right?”

The microwave beeps and Roman slides the extra plate in front of Virgil, “Exactly, he’s just like this, I’ll text you when he comes back. You don’t need to worry about it, Virge.”

Virgil shoots him a small smile before taking his plate to the couch closely followed by the oldest Prince twin as they settle down with Netflix until they need to leave for their respective classes.

—

Roman blearily wipes his eyes as he wakes up in his dark room and rolls over to check the time. 2:34am wake up and bathroom break time. He briefly considers just rolling over and waiting four or five hours until he needs to get up for class, but decides there’s just a higher chance of getting a restless sleep the rest of the night. The hockey captain rolls out of bed standing in his room shirtless and only wearing a random pair of soft sleep pants and stumbles out of his room, crossing the living room and entry way he’s about to try the handle of the dark bathroom door when it opens to reveal a tall dark figure.

Roman jumps back with an admittedly embarrassing squawk before recognizing the dark figure to be a freshly showered, exhausted, and almost weak looking Remus. The two stood in silence for a moment, Remus not even reacting to the sight of his brother. Roman awkwardly laughed for a moment, “Holy shit, Remus! I didn't even realize you were home.”

Remus stares emptily, moving to walk away without replying, Roman stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “Are you like, uh, okay? You kind of look like shit”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say as suddenly Remus’s face hardens into a snarl, “Oh fuck you, Roman.” His voice cracks halfway through but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the venom in his voice, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Christ! If you’re going to be an asshole then nevermind, I just wanted to check up on you. You know, like a concerned brother just might do?” Roman fires back suddenly feeling defensive. The tone of voice Remus uses almost sounds scared to him but he doesn’t have the energy to pry at Remus in the hallway less than 6 feet from D’s door at 2:30am.

“You don’t get to play any kind of concerned brother role right now! You don’t just get to decide to be concerned one day, it’s all about appearances with you, I dont fuck with that!” Remus’s voice raises as he gets more and more riled up, his voice sounds like shit as if he hasn’t used it in days, “Tell me when you think I got home, Princey, huh? You don't know shit about me and it’s time you stopped asking like you do.” He steps towards Roman edging back down the hallway to the living room.

“Why am I supposed to know when you got home?” Roman fires back, “You’re an adult! You’ve taken care of yourself fine for years, I’m not your parent I don’t need to know where you are twenty-four-fucking-seven!”

Vaguely, Roman hears D’s bedroom door open and feels brief regret that was smashed by Remus shoving him backwards. “You don’t need to know! But, did you ever think to wonder? Did you ever once care enough to ask? No! I don’t remember ever being gone more than three or four days.”

Roman recoils for a second in confusion but counters standing his ground, “What does that fucking mean? You own a calendar, a phone, you should know your average in the last year has been like five to seven days, you can’t blame me that you decide to go on a bender every 6 months or less. Can’t you ever grow up?”

“It means I don’t know where I was for two to four of those days at least! You self absorbed prick! Fuck!” Remus crumples for a second, his facial expression looks so, lost. He violently grabs and tugs on his still damp hair. He stands back up face guarded once again. “I know I never go out without a plan, I have paid some fucking terrible prices for that that you never need to know about. But, you’re telling me that I was out there and I don’t remember it? And no one thought to mention anything to me? And you’re asking if I’m ‘okay’? Fuck that, fuck you. I’m going back to my room, and ideally I’ll fucking rot and die before I have to look at you again,” Remus seethes before turning and slamming his door without waiting for a response.

Roman sags at his brothers exiting remarks, making tentative eye contact with D who waits in the dark hallway. “I don’t know what to do,” Roman says quietly.

D moves towards him moving them to the couch offering a comforting touch to the remaining twin, “Roman, I cannot tell you that I have any idea about what just happened. But, it seems like he just wants you to be there for him, in his own weird displays of affection he does love you and I think maybe he’s scared sometimes that you don’t care for him, and he lashes out. But right now, you need to go back to sleep so you can go to your boring nine am lecture, and I’ll try to spend time with him tomorrow. Sound good?”

Roman examines D, letting himself feel vulnerable for a moment but trusts that D knows what to do. He’s known the twins since high school, if anyone knew it would be him. “Thank you, D” Roman whispers, leaning into the little affection for a moment before he stands up and moves them back down the hallway.

Roman goes to the bathroom as originally planned but thinks about the things his younger brother had said. How much is he missing? What does it mean for Remus to simply not remember days at a time? Is it because of drinking too much or something else?

As Roman tucks himself back into bed, preparing himself for the restless sleep he had been trying to avoid. His mind wanders, and he can’t help but think that maybe he should be questioning blood stains on Remus’s carpet a little more.

#sanders sides angst #sanders sides #remus sanders #hockey au #university au #creativitwins #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus prince #roman prince #virgil fosc #bipolar disorder

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years

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Dear Dean (Chapter 15)

Re-post

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

WC: 4.6k

Summary: After taking Saint Lo, by sheer dumb luck, Lieutenant Dean Winchester from the 29th Infantry Division, Baker Company, received a truckload of replacements for his platoon that was falling apart. Little did he know, that one recruit would change his life forever.

Chapter Warnings: Whole lotta angst, description of PoW’s in WWII, loss of hope

SERIES MASTERLIST

October 13th, 1944

They marched toward Aachen in the middle of the night. The drumming of firearms could be heard, and it was astonishing how quickly an army can collapse. Baker went from being part of a well-armed, highly mechanized force to being lost in the open field.

Dean found himself with Harvelle and private Barnes running up against a hill that provided at least a little cover. The shells rained on them, and there was simply nothing they could have done other than run. Dean heard a crack and a sharp pain tore through his shin and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground in the damp autumn leaves.

“Fuck.”

“Sir, you ok?” Harvelle was beside him, his hand fisted in Dean’s webbing and he pulled Dean up.

“Shit, yeah. I just… ah!” Dean tried to balance his weight on both his legs but one of them would give out. “I think I broke my shin bone.”

“Shit, sir.” Barnes was on the other side of Dean, and then he ran away, returning with a branch. “Here,” Barnes worked swiftly, taking out the first aid kit from his webbing and secured the branch around Dean’s leg to support it. “Until we get to an aid station, sir.”

“Thank you, private.” Dean bit through his pain and surprisingly, it worked. He could keep going, although painfully and slow, but he could keep walking.

They lost track of their platoon and their whole company, hell, their whole infantry. Apart from a map and a compass, Dean had nothing on him. His rifle was long abandoned since he ran out of ammunition, and so were Harvelle and Barnes.

“Let’s rest here for the night.” Harvelle suggested when they came to an evergreen tree with low hanging branches. “It should keep us hidden for the night. We’ll go find the others in the morning.”

Dean had never been more thankful to have Harvelle around, because he couldn’t think straight anymore. There were so many thoughts in his head, and they kept screaming at him. He had trouble sorting them.

“You ok, Lieutenant?” Barnes asked, fishing out his canteen from his webbing and handing it to Dean.

“You look out for yourself, alright, Barnes. I’m good. Thanks.”

They huddled together for the night, with Dean in the middle. He didn’t know how he deserved to have such great friends who took care of him even though he wasn’t always the best friend to them. He knew that he’d been an asshole at times.

“If we ever get out I’m getting myself some damn pie.” Dean chuckled to himself, trying to humor the men and they laughed with him.

“I want to see Lisa.” Harvelle said.

“So you two, huh?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I’d like to think that.” Harvelle mumbled and Dean was sure that if there would be light, he would see Harvelle blushing.

Barnes said that he’d like to see his high school sweetheart again. She sent him a Dear John letter when he was still in Basic.

“What’s the name of your girl, Lieutenant?” Barnes asked, and the question caught Dean off guard.

Dean nibbled on his bottom lip, deciding if he should tell them or not. He figured that getting out alive wasn’t guaranteed, and if they did their bond would be beyond anything superficial. He knew that he trusted them to keep it to themselves.

“Jamie.” He answered.

“Jamie?” Harvelle raised an eyebrow in question.

“Yeah, Jamie.” Dean repeated again.

“As in Jamie Blum?” Barnes asked.

“Yeah.”

“What? You queer Lieutenant?” Barnes was confused, and Harvelle laughed at that.

“No, I’m not.” Dean couldn’t hide his grin.

“No shit sir, I knew that Jamie wasn’t what he said he was, but I didn’t want to say anything because he did a freaking good job.”

“She did a good job, yes.” Dean said, his voice low. “I wanna go home to her.”

“Well shit sir, we gonna haul your ass back, that’s for sure. At least one of us should have a happy ending. You fought for it, you damn well deserve it.”

“Barnes,” Dean chuckled. “Stop crawling up my ass.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

October 14th, 1944

Dean couldn’t sleep. So he volunteered to keep watch while the other two were asleep beside him. It was dawn when he heard the snap of fallen branches being stepped on.

Shit.

He could sense that the Germans were closing in on them.

There was only one way out. Dean hated to admit it, but it was better than being shot at. He woke up Harvelle and Barnes to talk them through his plan. He would go out alone to give them a chance to get away. It was the only route they could take, but they wouldn’t hear it. They wouldn’t abandon him. “No shit sir, we’re in this together. We’re not leaving you behind.”

Harvelle took off his white undershirt and secured the shirt to a branch that they found.

There were four German soldiers with rifles. “Halt! Hände nach oben wo wir sie sehen können!”

Dean didn’t need to have a German degree to know that it meant that they should show their hands.

Dean had a broken leg, and Harvelle was waving a white flag. They all had their hands in the air while the German pointed their rifles at them, and all Dean could think was please don’t shoot, please don’t fucking shoot.

The Germans marched them to a barn and although it hurt like hell, Dean sucked it up. He couldn’t show that he was vulnerable. He knew that if they thought that Dean wasn’t well enough to be moved, he would be shot - point blank - and left behind.

They were holed up in a small room until a German officer arrived. He pointed for Dean to come with him. That’s it. That’s how I��m going to die. That was Dean’s only thought, and it was on repeat in his echoing mind.

The officer asked him questions. His English was broken and Dean’s German was non-existence. When the officer knew that he couldn’t understand a word Dean said anyway, he let Dean go, probably deciding that Dean needed to be interrogated by someone else. Nonetheless they thought that Dean would maybe be valuable to them since he was an officer and had intel. They were determined to keep him alive. He returned to Harvelle and Barnes with a loaf of bread and some kind of stinking German sausage.

***

October 16th, 1944

They rounded Dean up with the rest of the POW they captured in the last couple of days and Dean was glad that he didn’t see any familiar faces. Just someone he thought was from Gabriel’s unit, but he couldn’t be sure because the soldier had a bandage that covered his face.

Dean’s leg was giving him troubles. It was swollen, it hurt less though, so there was that. Dean needed to keep biting on his lips and keep going.

They started marching. Hundreds of them and even though Harvelle and Barnes tried to help Dean, he wouldn’t let them. There was no need to show them that he was weak and plus, he didn’t want to pull Harvelle and Barnes down with him.

***

October 18th, 1944

Finally after more than a day, they reached a railroad. The train was a line of boxcars, maybe even the same one they used to transport people to the concentration camps. They pushed the prisoners inside and locked it up. Dean was thirsty, but there were people around him that were dying so he guessed that being thirsty was the least of his problems at that moment.

They spent days in that carriage, without food or water, and two steel helmets became a latrine for over 80 men. It was terrible.

The train halted every so often on the way, and there were prisoners getting on and off but never Dean or his friends.

Finally they arrived at Stalag IV-B. It was near an eastern town called Mühlberg. They lined him, and the others in front of barracks. He waited until it was his turn to enter the building.

There were about five desks lined up and they were occupied with 5 men who were sitting there, waiting to interrogate the prisoners. Dean could see that they wore British officers uniform and they spoke in an English accent. It didn’t make much sense that the British were at German camps, but again, Dean hadn’t eaten or drank anything in days, he was delirious, and it could have well been German officers who spoke perfect English. He didn’t know anymore.

Dean could hear the questions being asked to the men in front of him, and they were revealing too much. In training, Dean was told that the only information he should supply was his name, rank, and serial number. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was Dean’s turn now.

“What’s your name?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“What’s your rank?”

“Lieutenant.”

“What’s your serial number?”

Dean had trouble remembering for a moment before it came to him and he rattled it to the interrogator.

The questions didn’t stop, though. What’s your outfit? Where were you captured? Where are you from? Parent’s name? Religion?

Dean answered them with “Sorry, sir.”

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Probably a couple of days, sir.”

“Lieutenant, I will ask these questions one more time. If you don’t answer, you won’t eat for another two weeks!”

Not answering them would be suicide, because two weeks could turn into a month, a month could turn into two; until Dean would be withering away. So he answered, because he made a promise. He wanted to go home.

After the questioning they let him walk, out and he was assigned to a barrack. They took him to the infirmary, too. It turned out that his bones began to grow back together, although funnily. They didn’t have surgeon’s there that could correct it, and so Dean was given pain killers to endure it until it got better.

However, Barnes wasn’t that lucky. They rounded them up one time and selected out the Jewish prisoners to be transferred. Dean didn’t know where they have taken Barnes, but he hoped that it wouldn’t be a freaking concentration camp.

***

October 23rd, 1944

Dean could move around freely in the camp, at least as good as his leg allowed. He was a commissioned officer so, according to the Geneva Convention on Prisoners of War, he was not required to work. He would see Harvelle who was a NCO working outside sometimes, but the NCO’s only had supervisory roles. It was just his luck to not have to see his friend suffer. Apart from Barnes, that is. Dean hoped that he was ok.

Every now and then, Dean would take a walk out. He still had a limp, but it got better every day. He knew that the duty of a POW was to escape when possible, even if there was no real hope of getting home. The reason for this was because every escaped prisoner took the efforts of thousands of enemy soldiers to search for them, soldiers who would otherwise be able to fight at the front. Even getting away for a few hours was a help in tying up the enemy.

Dean would have maybe tried it if his legs wouldn’t have been fucked up or if he had nothing to look forward to at home. But he made a promise. He was going to fucking get back to Bambi, even if it meant that he would probably lose a leg. A leg was still better than his life.

The only thing that kept Dean alive were the letters he wrote to Jamie. Her address had been stripped off of him, as well as her note. The only thing he had was the photographs he kept in his helmet. The letters couldn’t be sent out to her because he wasn’t allowed to write a lot. They were strict, only allowing them to write letters that were two sides of notepaper. The only thing that kept Dean going was the letters he wrote that he intended to give to her whenever he got out. He just hoped that he’d live to see the day.

Dear Bambi,

I wasn’t so lucky. Harvelle, Barnes, and me were separated from the whole company. Some Krauts found us, and brought us back to camp. I broke my shin bone. Don’t worry, it started to grow back, apparently. I’m just limping. I hope you won’t be appalled by that. Yeah, you’re right, I’m talking bullshit. Of course you wouldn’t.

Fuck, Jamie, they asked me so many things, and I told them everything I knew. I try to keep myself alive and you know why? Because I made you a promise, and I want to go back. Back home to you.

Barnes was rounded up and collected for transport. He’s Jewish, did you know that? I didn’t. Which is another thing that angers me. What does it matter if someone is Jewish or not? We fight the same war, we breathe the same air, hell, we’re all humans. Well, now I really can’t send out this letter, because it would probably get me killed. Not that I could because they took all my belongings, including your address and shit, Jamie, all I have is your photograph. I’m so fucking thankful for that.

You told me in your last letter that you wrote to Sam. I’m sorry that I couldn’t answer your letter. There simply was no time to pen a letter out before I got captured. Jamie, Sammy.. Sam, he.. shit. I even have trouble writing it. He got killed. Stood too close to an explosive. I was devastated. I had no reason to live anymore until I remembered that there’s still something worth living for. It’s you, Bambi.

Sam would have wanted that. Sam would kick my ass if I gave you up. Sammy would haunt me in my dreams if I let the opportunity of something good slip out of my grip. Hold on, alright, I’m coming home. Soon-ish. Hopefully.

Shit, you’re probably worried about why I didn’t write you back. Why your letters won’t be sent back or answered. I don’t even know if the Red Cross has gotten the information that I’m here. So far no care packages have been distributed. Hell, I don’t even know if Cas knows that I’m here.

Harvelle is doing good. He’s been working a little, but I’m off work for good. The war is over, Bambi. At least for us.

I’ll be moved to another camp soon, though. They are making arrangements and word is that it’s even better than this one. Maybe I’ll get to sleep somewhere warm? It’s freaking cold during the night and while I’m used to being out in the cold, I feel like I’ve never been this cold before. Maybe I’ll even get someone to look at my fucked up leg. Who knows. But yeah, somewhere warm would be nice. There are prisoners dying of pneumonia here and that’s the last thing I want to be. Dead, I mean. I’ve come this far.

Harvelle and Barnes told me that I deserve to go back and be happy with you, you know. Yeah, you’d probably punch me, but I told them about you. Harvelle knew it already. He said that it was weird that you never had to shave and that your legs weren’t hairy. He said he didn’t really know that you were a girl, but he thought that you maybe a very feminine guy. Guess he was a little disappointed that I’m not queer. I think he has a crush on me. But also I’m a fucking dreamboat, so can’t blame him for trying.

I wish I could send this out. Let you know that I’m fine. That you shouldn’t worry. I’m also curious to know about your big news and god, I wish I could see you in that dress.

I’ll see you soon, alright? Sit tight, sweetheart.

Yours,

Dean

December 24th, 1944

Dear Jamie,

We’ve marched over 200 miles through mud and snow. I’m still limping. So there’s that. But I survived. I saw men collapsing in front of me. They were shot at, and transported to a place where they put the dead bodies onto a pile. It was terrible.

I’ve been in Oflag XIII-B for a couple of days now. I was transferred through other camps on the way though. They have trouble rearranging the prisoners because they caught so many. I hope we’re still winning. Are we winning?

It’s even colder here than the first camp I’ve been. I don’t think it’s over 20°F at night. I’m freezing my ass off, Bambi. Wish you could be here to keep me warm. No, wait, if I gotta wish for something, I’d wish for me to be there with you, where it’s warm. In your arms. Or you in mine. I’m not particularly picky at the moment. You can bury your face right into the crook of my neck like you always did. I’d love that.

I lost sight of Harvelle. Shit, I hope he’s ok. We went through the first two camps together, and then we got separated.

I think the Red Cross had forgotten about us. I haven’t received a single letter or care package from them since I’ve been imprisoned, but there are a couple of officers from Serbia and they share. They’re good people, you know. We talk a lot, at least we try to but the language barrier is a bitch. Nonetheless they seem to understand what I was saying and vice versa. We’re all humans, we communicate with hands and feet and we laugh and cry together. It’s good, Jamie. Not as good as being home. Way worse than being with you, but I’m getting there. I’m working to get there.

I keep your picture with me all the time. I don’t dare to leave it laying around. Who knows? Maybe they’d take it away from me, or one of the Serbian officers needs to jack off to the picture, and I can’t let that happen. If someone is going to jack off to the photograph, I think it’s my fucking right that that someone should be me, don’t you think? Who knows, I maybe did a couple of times. Don’t shame me, alright. I’m lonely and there’s nothing but men and a couple of nurses that look like they could end me if I say the wrong thing so yeah. You and me, we both know that I’m not queer. And besides, even if I was, I wouldn’t stray. I have you to look forward to.

No, but seriously, I keep it with me all the time because it’s the last thing I have that feels like home.

I bet your hair’s longer now, and I can picture you sitting in your warm home, in your sundress (I know it’s cold, but I can dream, right?) and smiling. I hope you smile, Bambi. I hope you’re not sad that I stopped sending letters to you. Maybe you did hear from the others, maybe Tran - if he’s still alive, that I’m MIA? I hope the news reached you so at least you’d have closure. I’m not MIA. I’m very well still here, I know where I am, but I don’t know if everyone knows. I hope that Tran can send you a letter, saying what happened. He doesn’t know about Sam though, so that’s going to be a surprise for you.

I’m sorry that I can’t be there for you, writing you letters that would reach you. I’m sad that you can’t be here for me, too. You can’t even imagine what I would give to hear from you.

I’m not allowed to send letters to my old company. In fact, I’m not allowed to send letters to the regiment at all. It should go via Red Cross, but I guess the Red Cross is not really giving a shit about me right now. Maybe they do, but they’re busy because god, I saw how many of us there were. Marching through snow and cold and there were new faces every day.

I guess being POW is still better than dying. At least for me. So that’s also good. But what do I know? I’m a commissioned officer, I don’t have to do anything else than exist. There are others who go through hard labor every day. I feel for them. I wish I could help but I’m just one in a million, and I have a fucked up leg.

The reason for this letter was only to wish you a Merry Christmas, but I guess I went slightly off the rails.

So, Merry Christmas, sweetheart.

I hope you are having a good one and you are warm.

Shit, I miss you so fucking much.

Yours,

Dean

February 14th, 1945

Dear Jamie,

The situation has not changed. I’ve scribbled out notes to you, but there was just nothing happening around here. I guess that it must be boring for you to hear about my daily life which consists of doing next to nothing.

I walk around a lot, though. Trying to keep me going and keep my strength. I can now run a little too, and I do regular exercise. Still limping, but hey, I get used to it. I try to keep myself in shape for when I go back to you. So that you’d still know me when you see me and not, like, being only skin and bones.

We don’t have enough food around though, so I lost a lot of weight. Thanks to the Serbian officers, we still have enough to keep us going. They share their Red Cross packages on a daily basis. I always get the raisins though. I used to hate raisins but now it’s just like, whatever I can fit in my belly, I do. Guess being starved does things to you.

Your picture is slowly fading, but I still keep it in my pocket. I just have to limit the amount of time I take it out because that way, it’ll stay longer. I still jack off to it, though, so there’s that. Benjamin, a Serbian officer walked in on me doing it and asked if he could borrow the picture. It nearly ended in a fist fight, but we’re best friends now. And no, I didn’t let him borrow the picture, don’t worry. Told him to stay well in his lane.

I had a dream about you, Bambi. We were back at Brest. I don’t know what I said or did, but you were so fucking mad at me. You practically spit your words in my face. I told you not to walk away, but you still did. I spent the day making it up to you. I kept trying until you were talking to me again. It started as a nightmare and god, I don’t wanna relive it again. If I should ever do something that angers you, please don’t just walk away. Alright? I hate that. I.. fuck, and I was so scared that you’d leave. Jamie, you’re the only thing that keeps me going. That keeps me the fuck alive. I don’t wanna lose that. If I lose you, I have nothing left. I might as well go on hunger strike and wither away or maybe find a rifle and blow my head with it. I don’t know.. I’m sorry I’m being all pessimistic, but..shit..Bambi I’ve been here for so long and there’s no sign of getting out. I’m so fucking scared that I won’t get to see your face again, and that’s all I want. Seeing you. Seeing you smile at me.

I don’t even know if you’re romantic. I guess we all have a little romance in us, but the reason for this letter was to wish you Happy Valentine’s Day. I wish I could show you how much you mean to me.

Hold on, alright? Because I am.

I love you so fucking much, and I’m afraid that I’ll smother you with it. Sorry.

Yours,

Dean

March 27th, 1945

There were shouts of Americans and Germans, and the shells and mortars were raining over his head. Dean found a place to hide, because there was no way he was going into combat with a fucked up leg and especially without a freaking weapon on him.

He heard Germans running to defend the gates, and there were Americans shouting for them to give up.

They’ve come. They have come to free them.

It was a disaster, though. The mission was a failure and when everything was over. Dean walked out of his barracks to the bodies of several hundred American soldiers. Some buildings were destroyed, but none of the prisoners could escape.

March 31st, 1945

Dear Jamie,

I don’t even know when your birthday is. So if it’s today, Happy Birthday sweetheart.

Other than that, I’ve been transferred to another camp. Oflag XIII-B had been destroyed in an attempt to liberate the prisoners. There were destroyed Tanks and corpses everywhere, Jamie.

I had hope that they would succeed, that I could walk out of there alive. Well, I mean, I am still alive, but I’m also still a prisoner. They evacuated us and marched us another 100 miles to another camp. I’m now at Stalag-VII-A, and maybe one of the reasons the Red Cross don’t know about me is because I’ve been moved so many freaking times.

Jamie, I wanted to tell you that I have given up a little hope. Don’t get me wrong, I still wanna get out of here. I still have your picture in my pocket - now I’m even more careful about it because this camp is much bigger, and I would not want to lose your picture - but I think it was unfair of me to make you wait for me. Thank god you didn’t get the letters that I begged you to wait for me. I mean, I hope that you would, but I get it. I wouldn’t be mad if you didn’t. It has been what? 5 months? You deserve happiness, Bambi, and if I could make you happy, believe me, I would. There’s no question about it. I’m here, still breathing and talking shit, but I’m not with you. It’s not my place to tell you to wait. I hope you can find happiness Jamie. I hope you can find a good man who would be there for you, take care of you, and give you everything you want and need. I wish I could be that man, but I’m not.

One day, if I get out of here, I will come see you anyway. I will find your address and I will turn up at your door. I will give you all the letters and notes that I’ve been scribbling down since my capture. I just want to give it to you, nothing more. I’ll be out of your hair if you don’t want me to stay, but if you do, I’d be happy to.

I just want you to know that I have never forgotten you. You’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up in my sorry excuse for a bed. You’re the last thing on my mind before I count sheep and try to fall asleep and dream of you.

I hope you find peace, Bambi and most of all, I hope that you’re happy.

I’m not telling you to hold on. I love you, is all.

Yours,

Dean

CHAPTER 16

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