#but at what cost? She wasn’t there while my mom was growing up. She wasted most of her life at a desk. She hadn’t been out of state until

[smelly-fozzy]

How do they expect you to get job experience if they won’t give you the job? Like- they can’t train you after they hire you? You already have to go through training and rules, so can’t that be how you get experience??

[deluluass]

misericordia

It's finally here T^T Here's to reaching 100+ followers! Thank you so much everyone!!

Content Warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; somnophilia; description of dead bodies; includes some elements of cosmic horror; dystopian-ish au; biblical references/imagery; angel! Ushijima

To name is a barren tree: fruitless and, ultimately, the workings of this kind.

  The earth will soon be without form, and void; and darkness shall remain the face of the deep. 

  The Spirit of God no longer moves in the face of the waters. 

  Names are for nothing.

  But, for any cause done here, to name is essential. As it was in the beginning, when there was still a beginning (but it has not ended yet, so the beginning shall still stay), to name had been the first task.

  So when asked for a name, the mouth was able to conjure:

  “Ushijima Wakatoshi,” the body said. 

  And as it is the way of the Created, the body became he.

  And as it is the way of the Created, proof was immediately demanded for the name. 

  And as it is the way of the Created, once found on the chest, Ushijima Wakatoshi was then welcomed. 

  You weren’t there when the world ended. 

  In fact, so, too, was your father's father. The sky had cracked open and the oceans had already split up the old lands for as long as anyone could remember. 

  Before the city became a city in truth, the people had just been strangers, seeking shelter after everything fell apart, only to be abandoned by those who’d promised protection.

  That didn't mean, however, that things got better for your lot once someone swept in and established order and peace and stability and whatever it is those at the top had to say to justify them being there. 

  If your father were to be believed, you had been sleeping in your mother’s womb, still a tiny beating heart, when the longest winter happened ("winter"; they still called it that when there had been minute differences between hot and cold).

  Supplies were short; food was scarce; so when you finally clawed your way into a world breathing its last, your mother couldn't help but bleed into the sheets until your cry outlived hers. 

  But your father barely recognized you  during his final days. That’s why when your neighbors call you a liar for saying “I was born on a Spring,” you shrug it off and think you might as well have been born on a Spring. 

  There’s no way of knowing. The story had always changed every time you asked him. 

  Sometimes he blamed you, sometimes he told you it’s not your fault. Nothing you could do about it. Spring it is, then; you told yourself. 

  Spring always looked so... different, in the drawings Granny made, anyway.

  No one here actually knows her age. Granny had always been Granny; as permanent to this place as the walls enclosing the city.

  She rarely left her quarters, that crone, and could barely stand on her own without your help. Worse, she could no longer see. What use is a blind artist, the others would laugh. 

  It’s their loss, you’d retort, mocking her like that. Because then they’d miss the way her gnarled and knobby hands would glide with unwavering purpose if you asked her to, strokes bold and not a space wasted.

  “You never learn,” she croaked once finished, jostling the wrinkled piece of paper to your lap. “Why throw away your rations for this piece of junk?”

  Granny retched, “Incurable fool.”

  At this point, she would grumble about suffering in the old pig’s (her words, not yours) kitchens for nothing, and always, without fail, you’d feel a smile break on your face. It hurt, honestly, but after an entire day of frowning over the dishes you had to wash and the floors that needed scrubbing and all the other orders yelled your way, it was worth it, anyway.

  “I know you’re laughing. My ears still work, mind you.”

  You felt your belly shake as you giggled, brushing the paper with worn fingers, staring open-mouthed at the piece before you.

  “This is amazing, Granny,” you sighed.

  “Idiot,” she repeated. “It’s the same thing as the one before. And the one before that.”

  And for good measure, Granny added, “Idiot. Not like you hadn’t seen that one.”

  When all you’d done was take her hand in yours and place a pack of food along with a thin roll of paper in her feeble grasp, Granny finally asked, “Why do you keep coming back here, girl? Asking for the same thing.”

  There wasn’t any of that surly frown now. 

  And looking at her like that, without the crabbiness that sharpens her features, that oddly makes her look younger and in control of herself, you find that you don’t have an answer this time. Arrested by the realization that her shoulders slumped lower than you’d thought. And that she’s getting thinner. 

  “Why?” you whispered back, feeling traces of charcoal stick to your palm.

  Maybe it’s because there’s no other way that she’d accept food, unless she does something in return. She kicked you out the first time you intended to give her the ration you’d earned.

  (Or maybe it's because you know what they'd do, once they find out she's no longer making trades.)

  Why, indeed. 

  Maybe it’s because you hadn’t really seen things grow before. 

  You might work at the Governor’s place, at the heart of the city and everything else that matters, but grunt workers like you are prohibited to get anywhere near the farm, let alone actually enter it. So, really, there's no other way of seeing what growth looks like.

  Maybe it’s because you can only do that when you witness her in her craft. You really don’t have anything to compare it with, but you’re sure life from soil works the same way. 

  Everything must come from something.  And that something must be quite the artist, if they're anything like Granny. 

  Birthing roots from the ground of what was once a blank piece of paper with a flick of the wrist; growing into large trunks, strong branches, then into an abundance of leaves and blossoms. 

  Trees drawn on both sides of the paper, always with a smattering of grass and flowers in the middle. She said they used to grow here, when she was just a girl. And if you begged hard enough, she’d add a stray butterfly fluttering around the corner. 

  You hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I just love seeing you, Granny,” you grinned.

  “Crock of shit.”

  “Really!” You grabbed your knapsack as you stood from your seat, folding the paper with care. “Hey, Granny, guess what? Don’t give me that face— I’ve already saved just enough and you know what that means?”

  She snorted. 

  “Listen,” you pouted. “I’ll finally be able to get those pigments! I heard they don't cost that much and if I trade next-”

  “Don’t.”

  She tilted her head and faced your way, misty eyes pinning you. "How much does paper cost you?"

  You gulped. 

  Then, with a swiftness that surprised you, she grabbed you by your tattered sleeve and gritted, “I may be the blind one here, but I think I see a lot more clearly than you do. You can sweat and bleed for those pigments, but I will never paint.”

  You felt a sting in your eyes as she continued, “I know what you’re doing. And I’d be the greater fool if I let you work yourself to the bone for some pipe dream."

  "Content yourself with coal, girl. That’s all you’re gonna get from this place. Dirt and rust and smoke. Go sneak into that damned farm. Go steal some of those fuckers’ riches. In fact, while you’re at it,” she laughed dryly. “Steal them all and run away from here. If you really want to live.”

  “Only,” she said, too soft that you had to sit back down to hear her, “Only, stop hoping, my child.”

  Her chest wheezed as she breathed, like air passing through the holes of a rundown machine. 

  You kissed the back of her hand before you left. 

  The wind howled and threatened to topple you as you walked back to your building, hard rain slapping you across the face when you picked up into a run. They didn’t descend in small drops anymore. As you get older, thunderstorms are to be expected once evening falls, lingering for weeks only to suddenly bring about an irritatingly humid day. 

  But tonight, the large cavern above that parts the dark, heavy clouds into opposite streams seem to yawn wider, closing itself lower and lower into the earth that you swore someday it’ll devour the city whole.

  Mud water in your boots, you grabbed onto your soaked coat and climbed the steps of the decaying piece of slab you call home, mindful that you won’t slip and break your skull against the thick beams, twisted metal jutting out of the corners.

  A solitary lamp flickered through the window of the room next to yours. Little Soo-jin must be having nightmares again, you thought with a frown. 

  You were about to knock on their door when the sirens blared, echoing louder across the city than the boom of lightning, followed by a grating squeal that could only be an opening gate. 

  Your knuckle froze over the chipped wood.

  The last time the alarm rang, the people were greeted by the body of a young council member, brought by a small and wounded troop who’d accompanied him outside the city. 

  Soo-jin’s mom peered through the murky window, meeting your eyes after both of you stared into the direction of the gate closest to your zone, as if seeking you for an explanation. You only gave her a shrug.

  “Someone must have died,” you said.

    “No, he’s not dead. That’s why you’re bringing food to his room, aren’t you?”

  You stared at the girl stubbornly shaking her head. 

  “I- I know, but! Didn’t you hear? They said they found him full of bullet holes and I—”

  “Even if you’re serving a rotting corpse, as long as Cook orders it, you follow.”

  It was admirable that she’s refused for this long. If it were you, you’d have been sacked the moment you opened your mouth to say no. You wiped your hand with the towel next to the sink, having finished the work assigned to you, and watched the ongoing bout in the kitchen.

  “Why can’t you just ask the others? Marga’s not doing anything!”

  “Marga,” the older woman hissed, “is with the others. Almost everyone is in the meeting room. So if you don’t take your butt up there, I’m gonna have no other choice but to tell Cook.”

  You winced. This can’t be good.

  You cleared your throat. “I can do it,” you said.

  The tray was shoved to you faster than you can drop your raised hand. You would have found it amusing, considering that you’re sure they couldn’t even recognize you, but the idea of being in the same room with a half-alive man does make you feel uneasy. 

  Not that it’s anything new for you; you nursed your father until the fever took him, after all. You just haven’t lived long enough to get used to it yet. But you steeled yourself and did your job, because it’s not as if you had any choice. 

  You prepared yourself for anything as you entered one of the many guest chambers. Bullet holes, rotting corpse, entrails held together by stitches. 

  And when you announced your presence and gripped the tray tighter so as to not spill the soup on the sprawling carpet, it’s not really surprise that caused you to stumble upon your words when you saw the man sitting on the bed.

  It’s more of an embarrassment, of sorts. 

  You must’ve entered the wrong room, you thought. You immediately checked around  to make sure no one saw you talk and almost grovel to an actual sculpture. 

  Because that’s what he was. 

  The Governor’s estate houses floors and floors of rooms that you hadn't explored yet. But there was one that, if no one would bother to keep track of the workers, you had the habit of sneaking into. 

  Thinking about what it took for this family to have all those sculptures there hurt your head, so you stopped a long time ago. You chose, instead, to just admire the marble wonders in all their beauty, always looking back down at you with majesty and pride. 

  Just as he's doing right now. 

  Chiseled torso wrapped in bandages; sharp jaw that could cut; eyes the color of olives, gazing deep.

  "That is for me."

  You snapped your head down. 

  "Huh- uh, yes? Yes!" 

  His deep voice still rumbled through you. 

  "Yes, I'm sorry," you muttered, heat rushing to your face as you placed the tray on the table next to him, inflaming when you realized he didn't mean it as a question.

  That is for me. 

  Not a question. A question means you can answer. His words brooked no other response but obedience, reminding you of your place.

  Much like those sculptures, every time  you'd spent too much time inside the room and you'd get the feeling that you're not supposed to be there, too filthy to be anywhere near what you think is the closest thing to perfection. 

  And the truth would settle on you like a heavy weight: that no amount of beauty can ever breathe warmth if it cannot live and grow. 

  The same way that despite the sunshine filtering through the floor to ceiling windows, surrounding him in blinding light as he sat on the bed, you can't shake the impression that this is the coldest this room has ever been, with him here. 

  So you anticipated his orders; a single word or maybe a glance that would tell you he wants you gone. Just either one of those and you'd run out of this room in a heartbeat. 

  But neither came. The man (you still didn't know his name) remained silent, staring at the food like they've insulted him specifically, and now he's questioning the collective audacity of the soup, bread, and bowl of fruits laid before him. 

  Maybe they don't serve those where he came from. He's from the North, after all, made evident by the small eagle etched on his chest, just above a pectoral. The last visiting Northerner you served who also bore that mark threw a rag at you (she missed) for "mixing the bathing oils incorrectly."

  You stayed in your position and asked, "Is the food not to your liking?"

  He didn't say anything, but he did shift his attention to you.

  And what a mistake that was. How does this man go about life with such a severe presence?

  "Er..is something..wrong?" you sweated, suddenly fascinated by the vases behind him. 

  Glaring back at the food, he answered with a deep "no" and breathed out. His large arms rose and fell along with it, straining the bandages around the muscles.

  Oh, right. Right.

  You perked up. "Do you need help?"

  Stepping closer to the table, you gave him a tightlipped smile and a sheepish "excuse me" before taking the spoon in your hand. 

  You scooped a thick serving of soup, your palm hanging under it, and waited.

  And waited. 

  The man looked at you the same way he looked at the bowl of fruits earlier.

  "What are you doing?" he said,  gravel-voiced. 

  You're gonna lose this job.

  Why did you think you could feed him like he's an ailing, decrepit old man? Or a literal child? He's built like he commands an army (and he probably does).

  You are definitely gonna lose this job.

  "I- I'm sorry!" 

  You jerked away, your hip hitting the table, the impact shaking it and causing the plates and silverware to clatter against each other.

  "O-oh no, I'm-" The spoon in your hand fell as you attempted to set things properly, soup spilling to the carpet along with the utensils.

  You're gonna lose this job and you're gonna starve to death.

  "I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!" 

  Dropping to your knee like your life depended on it, you picked up the myriad of similar looking spoons and forks and placed them back on the tray. 

  You kept your head downwards, bowing as you'd been repeatedly taught, and shut your eyes tightly. 

  "I thought that you hadn't healed yet and needed help and- and-" you huffed.

  "And I thought that I should feed you but- no-no!" You looked at him and flailed your hands in front of you. "No! I didn't mean feed- I meant- I meant no disrespect please forgive me!"

  Not a word was spoken in that second that spanned an entire year. But just as you'd accepted that the worst has come, he said:

  "Then, feed me."

  Wait.

  Wait, what?

  "I don't.. understand..?"

  "Then, feed me," was what he told you. And so matter-of-factly, at that. 

  So you did, desperate to keep the only thing keeping you alive. 

  Though your hand trembled and you wished to be anywhere but here— even the wasteland waiting outside the gates, with all its unimaginable threats, seemed like paradise —you took a loaf of bread from the basket and brought it closer to his mouth.

  Lines marred his forehead as he chewed. You were about to ask, self-destructive that you are, whether you should get the sweetened roll instead, thinking he found the one in your hand too bland. But you don't have the luxury to risk digging your grave any deeper. 

  You kept quiet and pointedly removed him from your line of sight, choosing to count the tassels hanging off the canopy instead.

  Once he's eaten all that's left of the pastries, you dipped your hand into the bowl of fruits and took a grape in-between your fingers and, as much as you can, you steadied your hand to avoid touching his lips.

  It didn't work. 

  You shuddered at the contact, curling your toes in your boots to avoid squirming. 

  This has got to be the weirdest day of your entire life.

  Not a hint of unease was shown. He continued to close his plump lips around the tip of your fingers and crushed the fruits with pointed canines, making the hair on your body stand on end. What if he bites you? Would you bleed?

  The man seemed to like them more than bread. A sense of urgency rose within you as he went through the berries and sliced mangoes like this is the first time he's had them.

  Can't say you blame him. The last time you ate something that resembled a fruit, a real fruit, was when Granny persuaded (coerced) a young boy in her complex to steal one from his employer. That boy has a child of his own now. 

  You felt your mouth water, your stomach growl and command that you take the bowl from him and shovel its contents to your mouth, as you watched him devour the sweet and tangy meat, the smell of it sickening as it is strangely compelling.

  He raised his head and met your eyes.

  Shit. 

  The apples, you thought as you looked back down to the tray. They're the only ones left soaking in the bowl, those apples. After this you'd be out of this stuffy room and you'd laugh about this later with Soo-jin and her mom and Granny too if she's not cranky.

  You could still feel him staring at you as you fed him a slice, the apple crisp when he took a bite. 

  Juice trickled down your hand, the sticky extract tickling your arm as it slid to the crook of your elbow, and you were about to wipe it with your other hand, when you felt a wet tongue probe the gap between your fingers.

  You gasped. "Sir..!" 

  You stepped away. Tried to, anyway, but with a firm hand, a hand that's not injured, after all, he gripped your wrist and continued to suck a digit. 

  "This is- sir!" struggling out of his hold, you pleaded with him to let go, please sir let me go, even as he only looked at you, his eyes dimming when he grabbed your waist to bring you closer. 

  He licked your hand, lapping at the trail the juice left behind, and when you thought he would release you, he took your hand to pluck another slice from the bowl. 

  Your legs gave up beneath you, forcing you to sit on his stretched lap, his hard body scorching you through the sheets, as he ate the apple from your palm, slurping the leftovers dripping from it. 

  "Don't cry," Granny told you once.

  "Especially when you feel like crying," she said. "Don't cry."

  You'd never really been good at listening, but now, you decided to suck in your breath and keep those tears at bay. You can cry and laugh about all this later.

  Because you might be jobless after this, but you will certainly have a damn good story to tell over the fire once you finished kneeing him in the nuts.

  So: one.

  Breathe.

  His teeth scraped your soaked hand.

  Two.

  You rested your hand on his shoulder.

  Three.

  You braced your leg, moving it between his thick thighs, and then, as you clutched his bandages, you—

  "Ushijima-sama."

  The door swung open.

  "Pardon the intrusion, but the Council members requested-”

  It was Secretary Hara.

  “Oh."

  Secretary Hara: a lanky, dark haired man with glasses who's always at the Governor's beck and call. He was here, carrying a small stack of papers, and gaping at the scene before him.

  You and the esteemed guest. Who's still suckling at your skin. On the bed. 

  He grinned, full of humor and disgusting. “Well,” he said. 

  At least you weren't crying.

  A question, shared only by the Heavens, began when the Lord fashioned the flesh out of the dust of the ground and said,"You are made in My image and likeness."

  It was not their way, before that: to question. (One of them did, once, but that is a different story). 

  They have no need for questions.

  They hold the highest seat, below only to the Creator, unencumbered by the trappings of the earth.

  They have no need for questions.

  So it remained unasked, lingering in fragments in the House of the Lord.

  The question comes to him now.

  For the flesh is a cage. It is ephemeral and prone to decay.

  It is fitting for this kind to have it, with all their qualities bound to the material world.

  You are the very epitome of these.

  Graceless. Stumbling like a newborn foal. Too many apologies. Too many questions.

  God is not here, he thinks as you insist on asking what does not matter.

  “Is the food not to your liking?” and “Is something wrong?” and “Do you need help?”

  Indecisive, too. Reneging on your promises. You said you’d feed him and then you said you wouldn’t.

  Ushijima Wakatoshi is a mere flesh, locking inside divinity your kind would never understand. Yet he felt its tedious demands gnaw at him when he saw you. Something so impermanent should have no right for constant sustenance. 

  But he knows, just for this time, that he needs it. That’s why he tells you to feed him, as you said you would. After all, it is your way to serve. And, for all your many inadequacies, God has granted you bread and water and fruit to sate your appetites. 

  Thus, for as long as he is flesh, he will do as it tells him to. 

  When it urged for the taste of fruit, for the cloying sweetness of its juice, it is only right that he heeded its call and had his fill. 

  How dare you object. His light is brighter than yours; God has granted it so (and yet you were given the will that they never had). And even in flesh you are beneath him. You are easily held and defeated.

  The ache in his belly did not cease, each gulp he took heightening his senses, shouting for more, more, more as he took you with his tongue. And he realizes that this is what the first of your kind may have felt like when they disobeyed. The first act of betrayal.

  (For what is the wrath of God to the cries of the flesh?)

  And with that, Ushijima Wakatoshi finds, since donning this useless flesh, that it is not at all easy to gratify. 

  Not in the least.

    There are so many rules in this mansion that even Cook’s effort to batter them on your head could sometimes be futile, given that their number is just as big as this place. But, there is one, among all the convoluted and at times nonsensical decrees, that you are not allowed to forget: 

  Unless you’re among the core staff, you can never enter the East Wing. 

  The East Wing is where all the important things happen, see. It goes without saying that someone as lowly as you cannot pollute that hallowed ground.

  Today seems to be an exception.

  When Cook barked that Secretary Hara wanted you in the East Wing first thing in the morning, you had a feeling that you just might not live to see the next day.

  You didn't speak unless spoken to. You didn't look unless told to. The things you should've done much earlier.

  "How are you liking the work here so far?" 

  Secretary Hara pushed the pen to the side and leaned back against the leather swivel chair. 

  "It's a job," you mumbled, to which he only replied with a breathless chuckle. You didn't see the point in bootlicking any further. Besides, Granny hated that the most; so you avoided doing it as much as you can.

  There's only one conclusion for you here, anyway. No matter how severe the punishment. And it's back in your room, with a uniform that needs sewing for a job that you no longer have.

  He tapped his fingers against the lacquered table. "You're right," he said. "Work is work. Despite your place in this society."

  You wanted to roll your eyes. Secretary Hara has never been any of the workers' favorites (not that any of you had your "favorites," but if you could, you avoided this guy). He had this astonishing effect, too, in which he can actually bring people together. All because everyone hated him.

  He's a slimeball, is what he is. If one needed lessons in kissing ass, he was your man. 

  "Do you know why you're here?"

  You're getting fired. End of story. Now can I please just go? is what you want to say. But losing your job doesn't usually take this much time and attention. Normally, it was Cook who'd grunt "You're out" and that was it.

  So you shake your head.

  "I'm promoting you," he said. "Congratulations."

  Somewhere, beneath that condescending smile of his, is a punchline that you're sure he's deliberately keeping from you. Just so he can be the only one who gets to laugh.

  "I-" You balled your hand to a fist. "Why?"

  He scoffed. "What are they teaching you in that rathole? Honestly."

  They taught me not to be rude to people I don't know, you little bitch.

  "Drop the coy act, it's okay," he sneered. "It's cheap and it won't work on me."

  Oh, now you really want to get fired. If only to kick his teeth in. "That man," Secretary Hara continued. "Ushijima Wakatoshi. You were all over him and you seriously don't know who he is?"

  You gritted. "Secretary Hara, what happened- it wasn't- I didn't want it."

  But he only gave you that look. As if to say, "Sure. Let's go with that." When it'd pass and the need to pummel him became stronger, he stood up and stepped towards the tapestry draped against the wall.

  It was a map, the city a pinprick on the corner. Secretary Hara faced it, dusting the spotless surface, his back to you.

  "Ever wonder what keeps us here?" he started, hand still on the map. "This city of ours?"

  "The," you licked your lips. Where was he going with this? "The river..?"

  Secretary Hara clapped his hands, his voice lilting like he's talking to a toddler as he said, "That's right. That's good. Excellent."

  "So you do know some things, after all." His fingers crawled towards the long line of blue stitched beside the city. "And do you wonder what would happen if, say, that river begins to dry?"

  You felt your eyes widen. You covered your mouth with a palm. 

  You're not supposed to know this. Why is he telling you this?

  He scratched the thick clump of blue thread and continued, "These great cities. They have their energy; their military." 

  Your eyes followed his hand, moving farther and farther away from the pallid brown surrounding your city, towards the bright yellow West, stopping at the bright green East. "Some of them are blessed enough to not be surrounded by a literal desert."

  Then, with a careful hand, he moved to the very top and said, "And the North…the North has it all."

  The North was a sprawling, intricate web of threads, eating away the entire tapestry. 

  "The Ushijima clan rules the North. Much longer than this city has existed. And they’re so engrossed in their wars that they’d never glance our way if we don't give them at least half of what we make,” he spat. “These great people haven’t had contact with us in years."

  Secretary Hara finally turned around, grin still in place. "But now one of them owes his life to us." He walked back to his desk, sitting on its edge. "Perhaps the heavens sent him here."

  When you remained silent and looked at him with eyes that you wished had the ability to kill, because you know now what they wanted from you, Secretary Hara only shrugged.

  "He asked for your name, actually," he said, tilting his head. "Lucky you. He didn't bother to learn ours."

  You stood your ground. "No, sir," you said. "I won't."

  He pulled a thin piece of paper from a pile sitting next to him. "You're not gonna do much," he said as he began to read. "Just show him around the city. Be his friend."

  Friend. 

  "But I- No. I can't." You stepped forward. "Please." 

  He looked away from the paper. "Zone 42. Room 0312."

  "What.."

  "Granny," he said. "That's what you call her, isn't it?"

  No.

  "They say that for a blind old lady she's still somehow miraculously trading to keep a roof over her head."

  Phantom touches crept to your arm, slick and nauseating like cold sweat.

  "You must take it from her. Though you're not related," he said.  "Apparently, you're so hardworking, you even work the night shift. When you don't have to."

  You released a shaky breath. "I'll..I'll start," you croaked. "I'll start right away, sir." 

  Secretary Hara folded his arms, victory plastered all over his gaunt face.

  "Thank you," he chimed. "I'm glad you understand. It's for your own good too, y'know." 

  The uniform they gave you chafed against your skin. Tugging at the sleeves did not help, the pristine fabric too coarse and stiff to budge. Your only comfort was the folded paper hidden in your pocket, fading at the edges every time you touched it.

  You have to admit, however, that you did look...well, you did look clean. Not as much as him, though. And not just in the sense that he's out of the bandages now. Last you checked, and that had been a few minutes ago, he was still sporting a couple of scars on his forehead.

  Despite that, you don't have to look behind you to know what's captured the people's attention as you strolled the capital. Or, who, to be exact.

  Some were outright ogling; some happened to glance once and then immediately looked away with a blush; some made the laudable effort to not look. 

  A mirror of what you're doing right now. 

  They gilded him with gold, which is a redundancy if you ever see one. He was wearing the most expensive pigment, something that only the Governor's family could own: a deep violet tunic emblazoned with golden vines, swirling from the middle to the collar; paired with dress pants that you could probably trade for a whole month's worth of food. 

  You kept your distance as you walked in front of him. "Just show him around the city," was what Secretary Hara told you. That didn't mean you had to talk.

  And it's not as if he had any complaints, either. He followed you through the rows of glass houses that adorned Governor's lane, not a word spoken about the sights. 

  Even when you'd attempted to speed through the dizzying streets, he kept his pace, long legs allowing him to stride close to you. By time you'd reached the plaza, you were already out of breath and in need of rest. 

  But you didn’t. 

  You remained standing a few feet away from him, the paper in your hand opened to reveal those great trees and thriving field, as he sat under the gazebo overlooking the square; a place reserved only for council members. 

  The smell of the sweetmeats and oranges in front of him reached your nose (Secretary Hara has a cruel sense of humor, you belatedly realized, when you were handed a bag of food that had a note saying “treat him well”). You fought the itch to cast out what little you’ve had for breakfast.

  Children were playing around the sandbox, the staff of whatever family they belonged to guarding them. In a way, their job wasn’t that different from what you have now. 

  Except, it’s not a child you were threatened to accompany. With the feeling of his gaze burning your nape, it seems like you’re not the one doing the guarding as well. 

  And you didn’t feel every bit like the adult you are when he called your name.

  You felt frighteningly small, as you yielded with a pathetic, “Ushijima-sama.”

  He only looked at you. Those green eyes telling you exactly what he wanted. 

  People are watching. You can’t mess this up.

  “Sir,” you said, hand still in your pocket, that frayed paper your anchor. “It is improper.”

  Irritation swept through him, his sharp features harsher when dissatisfied. But you can’t give up, even though it’s sending a chill down your spine and he seems like he’s about to throttle in broad daylight. (And he doesn’t have to do much, you know. He can crush you with one hand.)

  “Why- why are you here?” you hissed. “R-really?”

  You don’t shut your trap when you have to, girl. That’s your problem.

  “Because- because I’m not gonna be your..thing.” The paper was dampening in your grip. “While you do whatever it is you do, Ushijima,” you huffed. “...sama”

  Ushijima did not blink, his stare unwavering as he turned towards the small crowd strolling below. There’s a part of you that wishes to put yourself in his place, like a king on his throne. What does the view look like from up there? Are the people beneath just multicolored ants moving from afar? 

  “A few of my kind have suddenly sided with yours,” he said. Then, briefly returning his gaze to you, “I had to see what draws them here.” 

  He linked his fingers together. “Before I do what must be done.”

  You stifled a chortle. “Do what must be done” your ass. Does that include harassing people, too? “God only knows,” you whispered.

  “You believe in God.”

  You were the subject of his relentless attention again. You groaned, averting your eyes to a small girl, probably around Soo-jin’s age, who plopped down to create a heap of sand, much to the consternation of her nanny. 

  “No,” you replied in a thin voice. 

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Where is this question coming from? “Always seemed like a lot of work,” you said. 

  The little girl was making a castle. It’s apparent to you now that she has little pail by her side, shovel in her grubby hand. The frill of her dress caught most of the sand as she stacked them atop each other.

  “And I’m pretty sure God has more fun things to do than worry about me,” you added, just because.

  The castle reached her knees when the girl stood up. 

  "God has left," Ushijima said. "A long time ago."

  And then she kicked it. The thing crumbled to a mound, the breeze scattering it back to the sand. 

  You did chuckle this time. The Northerners sure are strange. "Really? Where’d God go?" you hummed, looking up to the sky.

  The sun was blanketed by waves of clouds, as usual. "Somewhere nicer, I hope," you sighed. 

  You closed your eyes and thought of that nicer place. It would have to be far, far away from here. Maybe it would even have those trees that Granny loved.

  "Cherry trees."

  You opened your eyes and gawked at him. 

  He was still gazing at you. 

  "You are attached to it," he told you, like it's nothing; like your heart's not wreaking havoc against your ribs with each word he utters. "On that paper."

  Pulling it out of your pocket, you stumbled to him and unfolded it for him to see. "You-  you know what this is? A 'cherry tree.' That’s what you call it?"

  "Yes." Ushijima's eyes did not leave yours. "That is the name you people have bestowed upon them."

  "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

  You didn't let him answer that because, just like the fool that Granny accused you to be, you took his hand in your trembling one and laughed, somehow managing to drag him out of the gazebo.

  It took a while before you finally let go.

  Much has changed along the way, he felt this as the air grew hotter; the sound of bustling people louder and less constrained with inutile mortal etiquette. You seemed less wary of him here. 

  The hand that held his tightly was still brushing against him, as you talked incessantly about the pieces of paper plastered across the wall. They all looked the same, yellowed and infested with mold at the edges, but you insisted otherwise.

  “See here?” You pointed to the one on the bottom. “Granny drew the leaves differently. They look like flowers don’t they? They are, aren’t they? I knew it! So they are flowers.” 

  There was a cot in the corner of the room. He sees you there in slumber, surrounded by rocks and scraps of metal and bits of gemstones held together by strings, each strand hanging on the crevices of the roof, gleaming every time they move. 

  You tapped his arm repeatedly. “Oh, oh. I put these two beside each other. Notice that the shades are different? This one is lighter while this one has more shadows to it.”

  "Do you get it now?" you asked him, expectant. 

  Humans are baffling creatures, Wakatoshi thought. Because when he said nothing, you only laughed (you seem to like doing that) and told him to “follow me; hurry.” You didn’t hold his hand this time (you should’ve, he preferred it when you did).

  “My bad. I hadn’t shown you yet,” you huffed as you grabbed a rag and set aside buckets of rainwater that obstructed his path. 

  Behind a curtain of sackcloth and ashes, draped at the furthest side of the wall, was a crack big enough to let a person through, corroding steel bars protruding along the broken concrete. 

  Wakatoshi ducked to enter the room next to yours. It was hollow, save for bits of gravel and a window obscured by dust. You paced to it then wiped the thick glass with the rag you brought with you.

  “That hill is always there in Granny’s drawings,” you said, taking the paper in your pocket and setting it parallel to the scene revealed by the window. 

  Your smile was wide, as if you were admiring a land lush with vegetation, or wildflowers at least. When it was far from that. It was a vast desolation, beyond the gates and the brown earth fractured. But, just as you said, there is a solitary hill sitting along the horizon.

  “Those trees- cherry trees,” you started, face radiating with mirth. “It’s the same but.. different each time.” Your breathless laugh makes him feel just as winded. “How is that even possible?”

  “I know they can’t be just...green.” A finger traced the outline of the leaves. “Because these are real and they actually grow and- and they change.” And, as if it’s a secret, “Unlike the ones at the capital.”.

  “If only Granny would paint them for me,” you whispered, the smile on those lips waning. 

  Wakatoshi couldn’t stand it. So, he grunted, “You are wrong. This one is green.”

  He took the paper from your hand. “They only change colors once they bloom. White, first. Then, pink.” 

  This knowledge is trivial; if it can be considered knowledge at all. It is a speck in the infinite matters that simply exist— have existed, in this world. Yet such a thing has put that look in your eyes. 

  Perhaps it is not inconsequential at all.

  “Pink?” you breathed, grinning incredulously at him. 

  You turned away and closed your eyes, your voice cracking as you murmured, “I see.”

  There's a blood pumping organ within his chest. A vital piece that keeps you humans alive. It beats constantly, never ceasing. If it does then it means you are dead. He is flesh, for now; it follows that if it halts, then he is fodder for the earth.

  How is it, then, that he is still here? He’s sure he felt it stop, the air knocked out of his lungs, as you looked back at him, eyes welling with tears when you said, “Thank you.”

  Thank you, you told him, smiling.

  Ah. 

  Wakatoshi gets it now.

  This is what God must have seen, when your kind looked up and sang, “I love you, my God; I love you; I love you.” And when you knelt and dared to turn those eyes for others that are not God, he suddenly understands why they were ordered to rain fire and brimstone upon your great kingdoms. 

  Because he, too, would smite anything, burn it to the ground and salt what is left, if it would so much as receive a whit of your sweet, soft words. 

  “They used to grow here,” you sniveled. “Granny said so.”

  “And I thought, maybe if Granny added a bit more color- maybe they'd feel more…I don't know..real..?” Laughter rings in his ears once again, pealing like bells. “Yeah..They'd feel more real...Though, she did get mad at me,” you winced.

  “I just thought,” you sighed, your shoulders touching him. “Wouldn't it be nice if I can wake up one day and find them growing again? Right here.”

  God created a garden for your kind once. It is gone now, but Wakatoshi wonders what you’d say, how you’d look at him, if he shows it to you. Your head against the grass, fingers laced with the lilies of the field, the taste of fruit on your lips, your thighs dripping with honey and dew—

  Wakatoshi felt his loins stir, but he didn't say anything, except, “The soil here is poisoned.”

  You snapped towards him, brows drawn together. “I know,” you said.

  “A sapling cannot grow on this wasteland.” 

  “Yes, I’m not stupid.”

  “That could have been any hill.”

  “I know.”

  His throat is parched; his hands a pair of useless things. He can hold galaxies in them, sink ships and level seas by the order of God had this body not trapped him. (He can free himself, but then you’d die). Now he doesn’t even know what to do with them as he rushes out a hoarse, “I have upset you.”

  He refused to let you take the paper from him. You didn’t seem to mind.

  “No,” you sighed. “No, of course not. Forgive me, Ushijima-sama.”

  You bowed again. An act of servitude.

  “Please, let me escort you back to the capital.”

  He does not understand. He only told you the truth. 

  But you turned your back to him and the light in your eyes has gone and he wants to chase it back the same way he wanted to run after God when the parting happened, leaving the Heavens mourning until their wails split the firmament open. 

  Wakatoshi yearns to have you closer. He yearns for that smile and laughter back on your face. 

  Wakatoshi yearns. 

  But, that cannot be. 

  After all, that is just much too human, is it not?

    The rain drenched Wakatoshi to the bone, droplets falling from his lashes to his cheeks, when he walked through the nighttime storm.

  He didn't bother to dry himself. 

  After he'd reached your room and shoved the door open, the clap of thunder covering the noise, Wakatoshi decided to undress himself, shedding all articles of clothing until he was naked as the day God created your kind.

  Wakatoshi felt the chill bite his skin. But that had nothing on the way you easily dismissed him earlier, by the time you'd reached the abode of this city's leader. 

  You left him and he could no longer see your face and yet that fierce longing in his chest stayed, creeping to every part of him, making a home in his belly.

  Until he recognized the feeling for what it was.

  Hunger. 

  Hunger, he could fathom. And when one feels it gnaw at one's flesh, what does one do, but eat?

  You were sleeping on the cot, just as he'd imagined you to be. It's enough to keep him warm: the sight of you, at peace under the glimmer of the trinkets dancing above as a lamp burned lowly. 

  The mattress sank under his weight when he sat next to you. His much larger hand took yours, locking your fingers together to rest his cheek against it, bringing it beneath his nose, and feeling his heart race as he breathed in your scent. 

  He remembers the first time he did this so vividly. You tasted like apples and sin; and though there's none of that now, his mouth still waters as he savors your skin, his tongue traveling to your arm, just as he did then, leaving bites along the way.

  You barely stirred when he lifted your shirt to reveal your tits, the sheen of sweat along the valley forcing a growl out of him.

  Do you feel it, too? When you drag him further down to earth, debasing him and bringing him so low that now he is nothing but a hungry flesh and a mouth made of obscenities. 

  "Fuck," he grunts, as he took his cock, heavy and hard to touch, and rubbed the head with his fingers.

  Perhaps he is lower than human now. Perhaps it does not matter. What is God to this hunger, anyway?

  (This hunger is bigger than God.)

  The cot was pitifully small as he straddled over your chest, breathing still shallow, and spat on his hand before wrapping it around the thick shaft. The tip of his cock touched your nipple as he fondled with the other one, thumb and forefinger pinching and pulling until you let out a tiny mewl.

  Hearing it had him falling to his knees. 

  Wakatoshi moved off the cot to kneel on the floor, the better to suckle on your tits, to lick and nibble on the skin below it, on your stomach, until he's seeing red and ripping your loose pants down to your thighs.

  He pumped his cock harder as he caressed the folds of your cunt. You groaned, arching your back and offering yourself to his mouth, when he started to lap on your clit, sticky liquid coating the swollen bud as he swirled his tongue to  spread the juices dripping from your hole.

  Your entire body was singing for him, even when all you'd managed were squirms and muted whimpers. He felt your skin twitch beneath his lips, as he cupped his balls and drove his hand faster around his throbbing cock, gripping his fist tighter.  

  Oh, he sees you on that garden, clinging onto him as he drives himself into you, pounding your cunt as you beg please, just as you did before, please, please, fuck me harder I am yours I am all yours.

  But, for now, he settles himself with the violent shudders of your body, flooding his mouth with cream, as he releases his seed on his palm. 

  Wakatoshi rubbed it against your leaking cunt, quivering still in his hand. 

  There is something that must be finished, first, before he takes you, in truth. He cannot have you conscious (for now.)

  He covered you back in your clothes, after. Then, Wakatoshi lingered on your face.

  "Fearfully and wonderfully made," he whispered, a mere guttural sound amidst the rain pouring outside. 

  Here lies salvation, he thought, as his fingers brushed your closed eyes. 

  And here, Wakatoshi thought as he brought his lips down to kiss you, here lies damnation. 

  He wiped his blood on the doorposts and lintel before he left.

    You woke up to silence.

  Your nether regions ached and, really, the temptation to not go to work today was insanely strong. But the sun was already bleeding through the window and there's a heavy feeling on your chest.

  And like wearing a shirt on backwards, you immediately knew that something was not right. 

  The sound of the door slamming open echoed through the building as you ran outside. 

  There was nothing. 

  Not the sound of people going about their day nor of children risking the wrath of their mothers with their games. The only thing you could hear was the buzzing noise of a fly circling around your ear.

  You didn't bother knocking on your neighbor's room, rushing inside to shout for Soo-jin and her mom, stopping only when you found them sitting around a small table.

  They didn't turn around to greet you.

  "There you are," you panted, putting your hands on your knees. "I'm so sorry for barging in like this."

  Even little Soo-jin, who never failed to jump into your arms given the opportunity, kept her back to you.  

  You stepped towards her. "Soo-jin," you whispered, placing a hand on her thin shoulder. 

  "Soo-jin, hey," you chuckled, your trembling fingers shaking her bit. "H-hey, what's wrong?"

  Her head nodded down, like a doll grabbed all too suddenly, then it lolled to the side, rolling until she bared her neck, until you saw her face.

  Her mouth hung open. 

  Inside the cavern were tiny black lumps that took you a second to realize were flies feasting on her molars. And when you lurched and sank to the floor, it was only then that you saw her staring back at you.

  Bleached eyes, wide and whitened to the core and pupils like spoiled milk. 

  "N-no." Your vision was cloudy, freezing dread settling at the pit of your stomach when you saw that the same happened to her mother. "Who- who did this?"

  Your voice strained out as you stood, mind moving faster than your legs.

  Granny. Go to Granny. 

  Though you already know, don't you? You don't have to see her to know her fate. Because as you sprinted out of the room, leaping down across the steps, out of the building and into sand and concrete, the smell of sulfur followed you, choking you along with the sight of bodies sprawled on the ground.

  Insects creeping out of nostrils and every other orifice, faces that you'll never have the chance of knowing and faces that you'd grown up with, hands reaching to the heaven as if at prayer.

  You are alone. You are alone in a city filled with rotting corpses. 

  There was an uncontrolled animal inside your body, fighting out of its cage in a fit of rage as you craned to look up, further up.

  The sky was on fire, the fissure in the middle gaping wider and wider and sucking in a mass of swirling clouds dipped with blood and orange.

  And there. There, look. Standing atop the towering walls.

  Beyond the heat wave was a figure, burning bright that you had to squint and you wanted to look away, you had to look away, but you can't go out like this, not without a scream and a curse at your lips.

  What did you do, you were shouting, Who are you, you were screeching, feeling the veins in your neck stretch and pop as you walked closer and closer. 

  Wings as far as the eye could see stood atop the fallen city.

  Spread out to span the horizon and folded at the middle to conceal whatever it is pointing a flaming sword towards the sun. 

  You tasted iron at the back of your mouth, but you did not stop. The earth beneath you swallowed your feet as it turned to mud with each step you took.

  And with the flap of its wings, the sound of metal banging against each other reverberated louder.

  There were children howling in pain, somewhere, behind you, in front of you, beside you. You staggered forward and for the life of you, you do not understand why you keep trying, because the ground below wasn't even soil anymore.

  It took another step before you fell.

  And it was like one of those dreams. 

  But this time you don't wake up. 

  You bawled out and thrashed your legs as water rose above you, slamming against your chest and filling up your mouth and burning your nose until it's all you could see, until you're floating in darkness and water is rushing to your lungs and you were flailing upwards, catching that spot of sunlight, but the more you kicked your feet and swung your arms, the more it tugged at your heavy legs and the less you could breathe and the further it got—  

You were sinking, the clanging of a giant bell everywhere still, as the water pulled you down, and in the deep, below the nothingness, was a massive cleft illuminated by the barest of light, slowly opening to reveal an eye, and no sound came out though you know, though you felt your throat release a shriek, horrifyingly small, so, so small compared to that glass green pupil that illuminated the darkness, rapidly contracting and dilating and then blinking as  salt and fire streamed deep in your skin, but they were looking at you from all sides, a thousand eyes flanking you and judging the weight of your soul with their unforgiving gaze as you tossed and turned in the waters. 

  I am going to die here, you thought. I will die here, you cried.

  But something was pulling at your waist and despite clawing and jabbing at it, desperate to keep it away from you as you wailed get off me get off me, it gripped you tight, hauling you upwards until you were gulping and breathing in cold air.

Through tears and the piercing cry that ripped out your throat, you felt strong, warm arms cradle you close.

  Along with a deep voice, familiar and conjuring a long lost memory. 

It lulled you into hiccups and dry sobs, gentle as it whispered. 

“Do not be afraid,” he said. “Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid.”

[mytrashcanlife]

Ashes to Ashes Jasper X Reader Part 4

After that conversation you avoided everyone for a while. This wasn’t like you but the Cullens knew you just needed some space. Maybe some normal friends. Which you got in a sense. You met these two girls in your history class Priscilla and Penelope (bonus points if you know the inspiration for these two). They were not in your normal social group, but you decided that if Carlisle was going to treat you like a rebellious child you were going to ask like one. A few days later you got your chance.

You were deciding what to wear a for party the girls had invited you to that night. It was at some kid’s house. You didn’t really know him, but it didn’t really matter. You wanted to dance with your friends and look good. You decide on a red knee-length dress with silver accents. You do your hair and makeup the way Alice and Rosalie taught you to catch a man and decided on a pair of silver stud earrings and the necklace Jane had given her a few weeks ago. It was pretty. I silver chain with a clear round pendant holding some sort of liquid. You paired it with some red heels and headed downstairs to meet her friends, but Edward stopped you.

“Where are you going this late?”

“Edward it’s eight at night calm down. And my new friends invited me to a party tonight so I’m going.”

“Did you tell Carlisle?”

“One: no, I did not we are still not on speaking terms, and two even if we were I am an adult I don’t have to ask his permission to do anything. Now get out of my way, I’m supposed to meet the girls down the street for a ride.”

“Just be careful okay? Come back in one piece.”

“I’ll try my best”

You walk down the street and get in the car with Priscilla and Penelope.

“Hey girls. You both look amazing.”

“You too red is definitely your color”

“Yeah and I love that necklace. Where’d you get it?”

“It was gift from my aunt. The one who lives in Italy.”

“That is so cool.”

After a few minutes of driving you notice the road beginning to look more familiar than the rest of the drive. You realize where the girls are heading and ask to make sure.

“Hey Penelope, where is this party again?”

“It’s in the woods on the reservation.” You start to panic internally. You could not go back there.

“Ummm. Hey, I don’t really feel comfortable in that part of forest. I have an ex there and his family kind of hates my family for some reason, it’s a long story.”

“Well we’re going.”

“I’d rather not. Could you just turn around and take me back home?”

“No way. I am not backtracking just cause you don’t want to face your ex.”

You see a gas station up ahead and recognize the area. You aren’t on their land yet.

“Fine just pull over at the gas station and let me out. I’m not going.”

“Fine. You are such a buzz kill. No way are we inviting you out again.”

They pull the car over and you get out. You go inside the gas station and take your phone out of your purse. You can’t call Edward he’ll just tell Carlisle, same issue with Esme and Rosalie. Emmet would just tell Rosalie and now you’re back to square one. Alice is out of town. That leaves you with one option: Jasper. You decide to take your chances and hit call.

“hello?”

“Jasper thank god”

“(y/n)?”

“Yes, look I messed up. It’s a long story and I know that we aren’t on the best of terms, but I need help and you can’t tell anybody. I’m at the gas station on third and McLane, just please come pick me up.”

You hear complete silence for a few moments.

“Hello?”

“I’m on my way.”

Within a few minutes Jasper was there. You jumped in the car, tears already streaming down your cheeks. He feels the sadness coming from you in waves. You tell him to drive and he does.

“I’m sorry. I messed up and I didn’t know who else to call. After this whole fiasco with Carlisle, I couldn’t call him, and the others would just tell him, and I can’t face him right now.”

“What happened?”

“You remember my new ‘friends’?”

“yeah”

“well they invited me to a party tonight.”

“explains the dress”

“right. Well I didn’t ask where the party was. They said some kid was throwing it and I assumed it would be at his house, but it turns out it’s in the woods on the reservation.”

“You Were going to the Reservation!”

“NO! as soon as figured out where it was I told the girls I didn’t wanna go, but they wouldn’t turn around, so I told them to drop me off at the gas station and then I called you. I’m surprised you even picked up the phone.”

“Of course, I did. What did you think I was going to do ignore you? Leave you stranded out here?”

“I thought you’d tell Carlisle, so you didn’t have to deal with me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you hate me.” You lurch forward as Jasper slams the breaks.

“you think I hate you?”

“yes. Though I don’t know why.”

“(y/n) I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you ignore me constantly? Or give me the look of death? What did I do?”

“Nothing (y/n) you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re smart, and kind, and happy and I’m not. I just didn’t wanna kill your mood.”

“well that was counterproductive. Maybe smile at me? Hug me like everyone else does? Hell, even just acknowledge my presence instead of hiding?”

“I picked you up didn’t I? and I didn’t tell Carlisle.”

“Okay that’s a start. Just promise me you won’t tell him what happened?”

“I promise.”

“Thank you, now can we please continue forward before another car runs into us?”

“Of course,”

Jasper drove the rest of the way in silence. Dropping you off a little ways up the street so you could pretend he never picked you up. Before you get out of the car he turns to you.

“You look really pretty tonight. I’m sorry you ended up with such terrible friends.”

“Thanks. And Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Anytime.”

He drives away, parks the car in the garage and walks into the house to find the rest of the family waiting for him at the door. Rosalie speaks up first.

“And where exactly did you disappear to?”

“Nowhere important. I just went for a drive.”

“He’s lying.”

“Shut up Edward.” Jasper and Edward exchange looks, and Edward decides it’s best to keep his mouth shut.

“Fine”

“No Edward not fine. Jasper where did you go?”

“Rosalie drop it.” Edward leans over to whisper to Rosalie

“Who does he smell like Rosie?” Rosalie furrows her eyebrows inhaling slightly before her eyes widen.

“Where’s (y/n)?”

As if on cue you walk through the front door. Rosalie and Carlisle give Jasper a look that says, ‘we’ll finish this later’ and they all go to the living room.

“(y/n) I thought you were going to a party?”

“Edward you had one job. Keep your mouth shut. It doesn’t matter anyway, I got to the party, there were drugs, and the other two were drunk so I took a cab home. This night has been nothing but a waste of an outfit. I’m starving. Mom do we have any leftovers in the fridge?”

“Yeah honey, I’ll make you something.”

“It’s okay. I got it. Thanks mom.” You give Esme a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing into the kitchen. As you pass Rosalie she breathes in slightly to confirm her suspicions. She looks at Jasper with rage. As soon as you’re out ear shot she’s at his throat.

“Outside now. All of us.”

Esme stays in the house long enough to make sure you’ve taken your food upstairs and gone to your room before joining the others about a mile away. Rosalie looks at Jasper likes she wanted to kill him and if Emmet hadn’t put his hand on her shoulder to calm her down She may have.

“What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything. I went for a drive.”

“Care to explain how (y/n) fits into that drive?”

“She didn’t she told you herself she went to a party.”

“Then why does she smell like you?”

Edward cuts in. “Jasper just tell them the truth.”

“I told her I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Fine then I will.”

“No, you will not.”

Carlisle joins into the conversation with his normal calm demeanor.

“Edward stop it. Jasper we can see that you obviously didn’t hurt her. We just wanna know what happened.”

“look she made me promise not to tell you what happened Carlisle because she doesn’t want your judgement. She’s mad enough at you so if I tell you then you have to promise me that she will never find out about this.”

“I just want what’s best for my daughter.”

“And I just convinced her that I don’t hate her, don’t make me lose progress here.”

“She never has to know Jasper that’s why we are all out here.”

“Okay. She found out the party was on wolf territory, she didn’t wanna go but her friends wouldn’t take her home. They dropped her off at a gas station and she didn’t wanna face any of you, so she called me. I drove her back and dropped her off a little ways away so she could pretend that she left the party for whatever reason and not have to face Carlisle’s judgement for her horrible choice in friendship. There. Ya happy now?” Carlisle seems satisfied with the answer, but Edward had another question.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why pick her up? Why not tell one of us to go get her?”

“Because she said not to tell any of you.”

“Why listen to that though? Why go through the trouble of lying to us when you know we can tell?”

“because I didn’t want to lose the trust I just gained from her. I just convinced her that I don’t despise her.”

“Why do you care what she thinks of you?”

“Because I love her!” There’s a beat of silence as Jasper looks at the shocked faces of his newfound family. “There. I said it. I love her. And I wish I didn’t because every time I smell her blood I wanna tear into her throat, but she is the happiest person I have ever met, and I want to protect her at all costs. So as much as I want her I know that she will be miserable as one of us. I am doing the best I can.”

“She’s your mate.”

Rosalie cuts in with a harshness in her voice.

“No, She Is NOT. We have worked her entire life to protect her from our kind. She is not turning. She is going to finish her senior year and go to college and be a normal kid for once.”

“And how exactly do you plan to keep explaining away ya’ll never aging as she grows old and dies? Or better yet do you plan to explain at all?”

“We will cross that bridge when we come to it”

“No, you’ll burn it.”

Carlisle cuts in to prevent Rosalie from killing anyone tonight.

“Jasper’s right. We haven’t thought this all the way through and besides she has to turn within the year anyway. Aro said she turns before she’s nineteen or he’ll do it himself.”

“You didn’t think this was important information for us to have weeks ago?”

“He made a comment about how he thought it would be Jasper who turned her. I thought he was referring to his lack of self-control, but now I’m thinking that may not be the case.”

“Carlisle you need to tell her what’s going on.”

“I know. We’ll tell her in the morning. Be prepared though cause I can’t see this going over well in any way.”

As the family enters the house to go about their normal business, they know something isn’t right when they smell blood. Esme heads towards the kitchen and screams. The rest of the family rushes to see what the matter is. They find (y/n) on the kitchen floor collapsed. Hand bleeding and the glass pendent she had shattered in her palm.

“CARLISLE!”

“I see her.”

“Do something! What’s wrong with her?”

“She cut her hand open the pendant was glass it’s probably what cut her hand, but this shouldn’t cause this type of reaction.”

“Wait, didn’t that necklace have water in it?” Carlisle’s eyes widen as he picks up the remains of the pendant. He looks closer at the small droplet of liquid left on the glass shards.

“It’s not water Edward. It’s venom. It’s in her veins already.” Carlisle looks to his family as the stare back at the poor girl on the floor in horror.

“She’s turning.”

[junova]

↬ 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader 

summary: the one where you meet steve rogers. 

word count: 3.8K+ 

[author’s note]: hello my sunshines! welcome to the first installment of a short series i’ve been working on. hope you enjoy reading it as much as i loved writing it! lmk what you think <3 

warnings: angst, slight dose of baby fluff (if u blink), cursing 

*: ･ﾟ ✧*:  ･ﾟ✧ *: ･ﾟ ✧*:  ･ﾟ✧  *: ･ﾟ✧*:  ･ﾟ✧

THE FIRST TIME IT HAPPENED was a slight shift in priority and truly, it wasn’t a big deal. You understood the two of them worked together, and time had run over. Later in the evening when he returned home, he apologized to you. Forgetting the two of you had plans while he with another woman, but you didn’t let it get under your skin. Above everything else, you trusted him. 

Until the first time moved to the second one, than the third, until you couldn’t keep count of how many times he had ‘forgotten’ the dates the two of you had made. Still, you let it slide. This was your sweet, tender boy. You knew despite the growing tension he would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Just like the past couple of months, you chalked it up to him just being too busy. 

It had to be it. 

—

Maybe more than anyone else, you understood. His step-father was pushing all his unrealistic expectations of their first and only child. Continuously pushing him to be the best of the best no matter the cost. Maybe in the past, he would have blamed his parents, specifically his father for pushing him so harshly to attend Winter University. 

He had become resentful towards his father after his first year. He was stressed more than he liked to admit and the pressure to please him was always at an all time high. Heading into his third semester, he wanted nothing more than to drop out. The high intensity of each course he took too much to bear along with the very high expectations everyone in his family had for him. Just waiting for him to either succeed with grace or fail with shame. 

As everyday passed, essay after essay, he regretted the life which was chosen for him. He feared of sounding like a spoiled brat who was gifted the riches of the elite and acted like it was a burden. It certainly was the reason why he never complained. He knew what it meant to have nothing. It didn’t cost a thing. Now with the world at his fingertips it felt it may cost him everything. 

— 

 Tony suggested he should join the soccer team this year, so he did. Just as he was asked. 

It’s not as if joining was ever completely out of question. Steve had played it in high school, but he never thought he would be good to make the team. As it turned out, he was. 

He joined the team and it turned to be a good outlet for him to escape to. When everything seemed too much to juggle, he something in his life to blow off some steam. His roommate, Bucky, even made tryouts himself. 

As the weeks droned by he found a nice balance with his assignments between practices. It certainly wasn’t easy at first, but he adjusted quickly. His body soon became acquainted with waking up for practices at the crack of dawn. Was it enjoyable? Hell no, but Steve was starting to feel like he truly belonged to something. He was part of team. He was part of a unit. He didn’t even knew he craved it until he had it. 

The team captain, Wilson, urged Steve to attend the house party after their first win of the season. He was more than reluctant to attend when Bucky basically all put pushed him out of the dorms. He really did want to go, but the idea of all the assignments he was neglecting while he was partying didn’t quite sit right with him. 

If it didn’t sit right with him, he’s sure it wouldn’t sit well with Tony. 

Before he could offer some half excuse to ditch the party, an ice cold beer was shoved into his hand. Urging him to join the celebration activities. 

So he did. 

He played one too many games of beer pong, indulged himself in a few more drinking games before he felt slightly buzzed. It was the only time he let himself let go and not worry about a damn thing. 

Then a few women came onto him, interested in something more than just platonic company. He took it as his cue to leave. Close to midnight, his muscles tight and restricting due to the game he had played, craving nothing more than to find the comfort his bed could offer. 

He let Bucky know he was leaving so he didn’t worry and started to make his way back. Making his way through the house just moments from stepping out the front door, when he heard a small cry. 

There was a small bar in the room adjacent to entrance Steve was hoping to make a beeline exit for, but then he saw you sitting there. On the countertop with tears in the most captivating eyes he had ever seen. You really didn’t seem to be looking at anyone in particular. Your eyes following the bodies that passed you almost as if you were in a haze. 

You still hadn’t connected the dots on how intently Steve was looking at you and he was more than appreciative. He really didn’t want to be perceived as a creep but you were alone and probably drunk. He just wanted to make sure no one would take advantage of you. 

As carefully as he could, he approached you with a peace offering at hand. He picked up a red velvet cupcake with frosted icing on his way out, planning on munching on the delicious treat on his way home. He sensed maybe you would need it more than he did. 

The moment he stepped forward, you were acutely aware of his presence. His broad shoulders with his muscular build did nothing to diminish the fear you held when he approached you. Not looking at you like you were something to be owned or possessed, but as a bystander just wanting to offer a helping hand. 

He was so much taller than you. Even as you sat on the counter of the bar, as soon as he close to you, his soft eyes connected with yours. Maybe it helped he didn’t lure over you at the moment, he just looked at you. 

Then as if it was the most mundane act in the world, he reach into his back pocket to pull out a silky, lavender handkerchief and handed it over to you. 

“Thank you.” You felt over the handkerchief, smoothing it out between your fingertips. More than hesitant to due so, it felt nice. Expensive, too much for you to be drying your wasteful tears with it. He was offering and you thought it might be rude not to, and you really didn’t trust your voice to say anything more than pleasantries. 

So, you wiped your tears with it and it felt heavenly. Much like the boy in front of you looked. A few minutes passed, and your cries had settled down. The presence of his body protecting you or maybe it’s just what it felt like. He still hadn’t said a word to you. 

Maybe an attempt to not scare you in the other direction. Naively, you thought he might be protecting you in some way shape or form. You knew you could take care of yourself if push came to shove, but the idea that maybe there was still some human decency out there was a nice thought. 

It could be possible not every man preyed on women when they were at their most vulnerable. Of course, this one was wrapped in pretty packaging, so maybe that put you at ease. 

“Do you have a safe way to get home?” Oh? He finally speaks. 

“I can manage just fine.” You chipped, quite shortly to him. Watching him carefully, as he took a step forward. He reached in the same pocket from before, pulling out a small index card, with a number printed on it in small red ink. 

“On the small chance you can’t, ask for Happy and he can take you home. No charge, no hassle.” He then places the cupcake he had been holding in his right hand before placing it where you sat comfortably along with the card, before leaving you alone. 

You watched as he walked out the door, not sparing you a second glance. 

— 

Maybe it was naive to let your mind drift back to the boy who had showed you kindness. Anytime another person spoke to you it was easy to assume they only wanted something from you. Searching for a reason to exploit the dean’s daughter. 

Just two weeks ago when you were caught in a compromising situation you had been set up in, your mom had paid them off before the vulgar photograph spread throughout campus. The way she scolded you still fresh in mind. 

The absolute disregard for your own feelings, but total care for her reputation was nothing short of surprise. Above all, her career had come first and you were just a simple pest threatening to ruin the life she had built. 

Never neglecting to remind you of it. 

You really wish you could just be the like her. Fiercely strong, not putting up with anybody’s shit but you were the complete opposite of her. Weak, fragile, more sensitive than you’d like to be. 

She never quite missed a beat to let you know even if it’s what you wished for. 

Her disappointment weighed heavily on your shoulders that night and Finnick abandoning you for the pretty blonde across the room did nothing to help your self-esteem either. 

So, you sat on the vacant bar and cried. Only because you thought everyone was too engrossed with their preferred vices and the burn of vodka numbing their senses to hear you. 

But a boy with silky, shining hair as golden as the sun sought you out like a moth to a flame. A large part of you waiting for crude, perverted comments to fly right out his mouth with no intention of catching them. 

Then he left as soon as he came, not even leaving his name with you. Not as if you cared, you would never see him again. 

Until you did, two weeks later to be exact. 

Now, you were beginning to think he only came into your life when you seemed like a damsel in distress. Not only did a thunderstorm decide to show up on your supposed date night, but Finnick had decided to be a world colossal dick. 

At this point it shouldn’t surprise you. He had shown you time after time it’s who he was and to think he would change was an idiots’ dream. Your dream, so to speak. This time he crossed the line, pushing you to your brink. 

“Please baby. I’m sorry. It honestly was just a slip up, an oversight. Truly. It won’t happen again.” You regret even picking up his call in the first place. Now more than ever, hearing his sorry excuses wash over once again filled your venom to the brim. 

“I don’t give a fuck what your excuse is, Fin. This is the forth fucking time this week alone. I’m done with your bullshit.” Your anger once again getting the best of you, but you were well within reason to be bitter about him forgetting a date the two of you had planned once again. 

“Can we just talk? I’m finished and I’m free for you.” His tone was small, minuscule, almost like he actually cared he had let you get your hopes up.  

“Go talk to someone who fucking cares, Finnick.” You hung up on him as he was mid-sentence, because dear god lord help you if it actually became any importance to you. 

Now, it no longer mattered to you. You had given him more chances than you could count, but he always fell short. Maybe you expected more than you should from him. On the other hand, you been with him for over a year. 

If you were you honest with yourself he acted the same as he did before. The only difference is the love had dissipated into dust, no longer letting you be blinded by him. His eyes didn’t glow with love but rather with an emptiness you couldn’t fill. Even if it’s all you wished for.

Now, on this shameful night, you stood outside waiting for a sign. Maybe a beacon of hope letting you know not everything was lost.

Hoping your four year relationship wasn’t tumbling down the drain.

Then you saw him, again.

Just like before you were struck by just how beautiful he is. Without a shadow of a doubt, he was the most attractive man you had ever encountered with.

His build made you recognize him instantly. The man who had given you the handkerchief to remedy the loss you felt that night. An act of kindness which hadn’t been reach out to you in so long.

Now, here you were crying in front of the handsome stranger again. Surely, he would think you were nothing more than a pathetic little girl. 

This time he wasn’t alone which only seemed to triple your embarrassment. Accompanied by a man who seemed to be twice his age, more than likely his father. He hadn’t noticed you yet, thankfully. Even if he had, you doubted he would realize who you were.

He surely could have been drunk or out of his mind on the night he found you. Part of you knew he was of sane mind, but the shameful part of you wished he wasn’t so there would be nothing familiar about you.

Simply, you be a single face in a sea of many.

Fate would not be on your side today, because he approached you. Loudly enough to make his presence known but not too loud to scare you off.

Is this what it felt like to die inside?

He was even more beautiful than last time. A pure vision and by the way he carried himself, he knew it, too. Although, the mysterious blonde wasn’t arrogant but held confidence so infatuating you could help but be intrigued. 

“Here.” He gestures softly, your big doe eyes meeting his own. He held the umbrella under the both of you, shielding you from the pelts of Zeus. “I can’t imagine you would want to get more drenched than you already are.”

Part of you wanted to dismiss him, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t let you even if you tried. Especially from the judgement from the man who was tucked safely by the front door.

Now, that he mentioned it, you hadn’t noticed you brought yourself out onto the curb from the restaurant allowing yourself to be coated in your shame.

The rain, too.

“Thank you. Again. Seems like I only know how to make myself appear as an emotional idiot in front of you.” Now, the two of you so close to one another the concept of breathing was hard for you to grasp.

It wasn’t lost on you the death glare the man he was just with looked at you like vermin. How you could anyone ever be associated with someone who looked as pitiful as you did?

Trust me, I was asking myself the same question.

“Take the handle.” The golden boy guided the umbrella towards you, all but shoving it into your hold. You thought he was going to walk away from you again but he took the moment of his gloved fingertips freed to remove the wool coat off of his muscled back. Carefully, placing the dry material on your shoulders.

He didn’t miss the quizzical frown upon your face, maybe if you weren’t crying you might have been the most stunning women he had ever seen.

Not even the rain could hide those puffy cheeks and under eyes from him. It wasn’t important to him now, not when you were shivering half to death. 

“You’re freezing. You need to warm up.” His fingertip fastened the buttons on the coat, wrapping you in what smelled like him. A musky scent so refreshing you let it consume your senses. Immediately two sleek, jet black town cars pulled up to the curb where you stood by the mysteriously chivalrous man.

“C’mon doll.” He grabbed the umbrella, holding it firm as he reached his free hand out for you ready to take. 

For an unknown reason, you latched on to him. Surprising even yourself.

The older man skipped in front of you opening the door, before hopping in with the man you still didn’t even know the name of.

In hindsight, probably wasn’t the wisest decision you’ve made but there was this underlying feeling. You trusted him. He had given you no reason not to, only providing his aid and care one both occasions.

Mindlessly offering him your address, now aware of how fucked you were if he wasn’t as kind as he seemed to be. Not only were you with one unidentified man, but two.

“Are you okay? Are you still cold?” He peered down at you, his eyes piercing through you with a soft warmth. In stark comparison to the man sitting across from you, his brown hues watching you for any sudden movement.

“I’m warmer now.” He nodded, accepting your affirmation for now. Itching to say more, wondering if you were as well.

The heater inside the vehicle seemed to leave him warmer than he would normally prefer, but kept it on even if it was making his body sweat profusely. Almost worried he might be making you uncomfortable, eyes following yours just to make sure you weren’t looking as he removed the blazer only know allowing his true physique to be exposed.

But god were you fucking looking. 

You knew he was jacked, but to this extent? You didn’t know it was possible to look this good.

As soon as his eyes found your own, shamelessly checking him out, he figured now would be a wonderful time to insert himself in.

“You know, sometimes it’s easier to tell strangers your problems than the people closest to you.” Lowering his voice, so the older gentleman couldn’t hear him. “I-I don’t know why you’d assume I have a problem.” You looked at him and you felt like an unopened book but he still managed to know every little thing about you.

“Just a feeling, maybe. That’s all.” He didn’t bother you again the rest of the ride home and it bugged you. He clearly wanted to say something but he bit his tongue instead. Keeping his hand in his lap, making sure he kept his distance from you.

“Smile snowflake, you’re not getting soaked anymore.” The older man finally addressed you. Focusing his fury gaze upon you, waiting to elicit a certain reaction from you.

Snowflake?

“Tony, leave her be.” He hissed at him. For a moment, you thought he was being protective. He doesn’t know you idiot, think straight for once.

“Why? You decided to bring a stray without my consent. I’m just having fun, Steve.” You didn’t miss the tension growing between the pair, ready to brawl right here in front of you.

Steve.

Why did his name sound familiar to you? Do you know him? Is that why he was being kind to you? Did he somehow know you?

“If you don’t drop this I swear to god, Stark.” Thankfully enough for Steve, Happy interrupted the two men.

“Sir, we’ve arrived at the designated location.” The car coming to a halt and you couldn’t wait to bust out of here. Desperate to dry yourself, hopefully you still had time and you wouldn’t catch a cold.

Just as you feared, it was still pouring down. Fantastic.

“Thank you for the ride, really. You didn’t have to.” Your small, angelic voice barely ascending to a volume loud enough for Steve to hear you. 

His eyes getting lost in you for a moment before looking through the window, the rain morphing itself into larger specs of hail.

“Jesus, it’s still fucking pouring. Let me walk you up.” He reaches towards the umbrella he had tossed into the empty seat.

“Steven. We need to go.” Tony had lowered his voice an octave lower, demanding Steve actually listen to him just this once.

“You can wait two minutes.” Rolling his eyes at him, before he intertwined his hand with your own. “C’mon.”

Held you right against his muscled chest as he pulled you out of the car and into him. Under the umbrella, tucked safely away from getting sick even further. He moved until you were under the protection for your patio. The rain once and for all shielded away.

“I’m sorry about, Tony. He means well but he’s a bit of an asshole.” Steve smiled down, looking like he had just won the lottery. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” Just like that, Steve let out a soft laugh. Showing off his perfectly aligned pearly whites, with a subtly you wished to possess.

“Oh shit! Here.” You begin to take off the coat he lended you, but his calloused hands stopped the gesture.

“Keep it. Please?” He questioned, almost like he was unsure of the words falling out of his mouth.

“Why?” You thought it was a simple question, but he must have stood there for a couple of minutes before actually responding you.

“It really just doesn’t fit me right, would hate for it to go to waste.” He mumbled it out, almost as if he was struggling with the concept of flirting with you.

“Okay, then. I’ll keep it.” You agreed with him, gripping it closer to you. Taking in his smell once again.

“Alright, then. You should get going. Wouldn’t want to keep Tony waiting.” He nodded, stepping away from you, battling a war with himself.

Just do it, dummy. This is your chance.

When you thought he was going to walk away, he took you in his arms. No longer caring about the damage your wet hair may cause to his suit. Not that Steve really cared to begin with.

“You don’t deserve whatever he’s giving you. Just know there’s always something better at the end of the tunnel, maybe even someone else willing to offer you more.” He breathed into your ear, before kissing you sweetly on the cheek.

“I’ll see you soon, angel.”

Leaving with more than enough to think about.

—

taglist: @tonystankschild 

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Final Four: The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck Review! or The Batman Trial Episode but with Ducks, Sharks, And the Fonz

Hello all you happy people and welcome to the penultimate Ducktales review... for season 3 anyway. I still have most of season 1, all of season 2 (I did cover one but I’ll probably redo it), the tie-in comics, the 87 series, and even then i’ll never really be done with ducks between all the scrooge comics and other duck related shows like Darkwing Duck and Quack Pack. But as far as covering the show as it comes out as i’ve done for the past year, that’s’ts almost done. It’s honestly just starting to hit as I type this: this is the second to last episode. After next week while there’s always fan fiction (And I certainly aim to contribute to that), a possible Darkwing Duck Reboot under frank (though that’s in doubt) where they could show up, and a movie down the road given what we saw with Phienas and Ferb and the show’s popularity it’s still not the same as getting these well animated, well crafted adventures every week with breaks or the ocasional entire week of them. The show won’t go on, and whatever happens with the property next is a mystery no amount of ducks can solve. 

So with all that in mind naturally this episode is a breather episode: It’s not unimportant: like the rest of the season it ties off a lot of loose ends, adds in some stuff we didn’t know we wanted, and in general feels necessary like every episode this season. It’s something I credit the season for immensley: They knew this would probably be it so while they had more stories to tell, they made sure if these were their last, to leave no loose ends. And outside of ones they just never wanted to address in the first place like “What happened to Donald’s parents”, “Why was every trace of Della missing despite Scrooge’s search for her having just ended”, and “What did Della thing of the decades long seperation”, they’ve tied up pretty much all of them except for FOWL and what Beakly was lying about, and I feel both are about to ducktail into one another int he finale. Could be wrong but  I applaud them for tying off almost every loose end and character arc by this episode that isn’t related to FOWL in some way. Not every show can do that: She Ra was a masterpiece but still had a few things like Scorpia and Catra’s broken relationship, Hordak’s reformation and Adora’s Parents just left up in the air due to time constraints, Steven Universe ONLY got to go back and answer a lot of questions because they were lucky enough to get an epilogue mini series, and Star Vs... was not as good as either show by the end and by the finale about 80% of things it’d brought up all had the following answer:

My point is it’s VERY hard, even when you know the end is coming to tie everything up in a neat bow. And I can’t know how good the finale be or how satsifying it will be but given how well this season’s wrapped everything up so far,  i’m betting on immensely. But we can talk about that when it finally comes around next week. For now we have a trial episode to talk about that’s mostly good.. mostly. See why the mostly under the cut as I discuss and recap the episode with full spoilers.  Count it down!

We open in the Mansion, where a bunch of tribble like Fuzzy creatures are running amok. Unsuprisingly, Scrooge bought one for Louie as a pet to teach him responsiblity.. again. And once again he instead turned into a get rich quick scheme, didn’t read the manual and now they have an infestation. 

ONCE AGAIN, Louie is written like he’s barely changed at all in the past three seasons. Anyone whose been following my reviews regularly knows this has been a pet peeve of mine for the entire season. Despite having an ENTIRE arc about Louie growing as a character and learning the human cost of his scheming and to use his angle seeing talent’s wisely, the writers keep writing him as if he learned nothing. I went back to track it and while not as often as it felt I noticed a few things. The first is that it WASN’T like this for the first half of the season. No really. He even learns brand new lessons in The Trickening and Louie’s Eleven. Granted he also exploits his uncle in Louie’s Eleven but that’s mostly played for laughs.. still not a great bit but not a major part of the episode. 

So he was fine for the first act of the season... but then for whatever reason from Let’s Get Dangerous onwards (Again I don’t count the Christmas episode as both of those are meant to slot in anywhere and chronologically take place before this season for the timeline to make any sense), he’s just...

He’s utterly insufferable in his small parts of the first half of Let’s Get Dangerous! as he berates Huey for daring to look a gifthorse int he mouse.. even though everytime he’s seemingly got something for nothing or minimal effort it’s backfired and it’s something that seeemd to stick with “The Richest Duck in the World!”. He’s fine in Impossibin and alright in split sword as while he clearly hadn’t learned lying isn’t the best policy we at least got a good story out of it. He then went right back to obnoxious with New Gods on the Block where he, EPISODES AFTER THE SOLEAGEO FISACO again thinks an easy way out is the right way, and has NO guilt over possibly killing a bunch of people with his gold powers and in fact is disapointed he dosen’t get to keep a living being turned to gold!. He spents all of Fight for Castle McDuck being a huge dick to Huey AGAIN iwth no lesson, and now has yet another family endagering get rich quick scheme he feels no remorse about. 

I will admit when I”m wrong and I DID think it was in way more of the season than I thought. And let’s face it in real life personal issues don’t just go away and you can sometimes slide back, i’ve done it way too many times and i’m not proud of it. We’re only human. But this isn’t real life, this is cartoon ducks. And cartoon duck wise most character development has stuck or if a bad trait’s come back it’s been in a new way. Webby is still trusting, but knows how the world works now and while idolizing scrooge dosen’t think he’s perfect anymore. Huey is no longer a skpetic towards the super natural and hasn’t forced a party on anyone. Dewey hasn’t craved other people’s love or thought he needed to earn his mom’s love again. And that’s just the other kids. They aren’t the same people theyw ere going in, neither is Louie. So it’s grating when an episode acts like h’es exactly the same, let alone almost a fifth of the season.

What makes it even worse though is that he had an ENTIRE STORY ARC dedicated to learning some of these lessons already. With the others if one episode were forgotten i’d let it slide as it happens with tv, i’m used to it. It’s not a great look but it happens. Mistakes happen again we’re all human. But you can’t act like an entire arc of a series didn’t exist. While they ignore Della’s history somehow being hidden for the rest of the show they don’t ignore that Dewey spent a whole season looking for her, as he never hides something like that from his brothers again nor do they, and he’s out of them the biggets mama’s boy. While they did take a while to adress Lena, partly because the episode got pushed back, they didn’t act like season 1 never happened and she was still working for her aunt. Della still isn’t on the moon and Owlson still isn’t working for glomgold. Actions. Have. Consequences. That’s the whole point of this episode, but they act like none of it got through to louie and it makes his arc feel like a giant waste in hindsight. This episode even feels like it was SUPPOSED to be in that arc: Louie is back to his season 2 characterization, Scrooge is actively trying to mentor him again.. it just feels really out of place as our second to last episode in that way and drags it down a bit.

Thankfully after Scrooge bars the door, and possibly leaves everyone to their deaths but he presumably has enough faith in the kids, the twins and Beakley to take care of it, he gets a summons to court.. and gets kidnapped. He and Louie are whisked away to a mystic court presided over by a giant statue of justice holding scales, that judges someone based on Karma. Scrooge’s foes have brought him to court, blaming him for being evil and if he looses he looses EVERYTHING. And their proscutor? 

Sadly not Droopy, maybe next continuity, but searing the same Hannibal-Esque Getup is Doofus Drake to Louie’s horror. As for why he’s like this.. he thought iht was fun. Great gag. 

After the credits we find out why he’s doing this: He’s still pissed about Louie taking half his inheritance and giving it to his family, so he’s going to take LOUIE’S inheritance. It’s.. honestly a great setup: Doofus was already a villian I liked, being a nice weird evil mirror dewey instead of a walking fat joke like last series. So I was glad to both see him pop up one last time to make it a full trilogy of apperances as an angonist and to see him take a step up from his passive roll in the past: in his first two apperances while he was evil and abusive, and still is, his evil was mostly due to his own warped logic, feeling he could put shock collars on and control people and that Louie lying to him was enough to warrant making him into a pinata. He’s still a bad person mind you: kid or not he ensdlaved his parents, tried to enslave louie and goldie and in general REALLY needs some help empathizing with people. But my point is that before he didn’t come after anyone.. so it’s a nice capper to have his final turn as antaognist be him going after our hero.. and at his most dangerous. Before someone would’ve come for Louie eventually in Doofus’ first apperance and Goldie would’ve found a way out or Scrooge, despite grumbling about it, would’ve helped.. if nothing else than to lord having to save her from a 12 year old over her. Here if he wins the family is out on the street and three of their greatest enemies are now infinitely more well funded. 

So while naturally unnerved by his rival Louie offers to defend Scrooge who denies it despite the fact that Louie is REALLY good with words, and Scrooge, while not bad with them, can’t stop shouting and keeps pissing off the baliff, played by my boy Henry Winkler whose done a lot of voice work and also played Fonzie on Happy Days, is currently on the HBO series barry and in general is just a fucking delight. The irony is also not lost on me that he’s not playing a lawyer here despite being one on arrested development. 

We get our first witness: FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD. Hell. Yes. It’s nice to see him in his full glory one last time, as I don’t know how much he’ll be in the finale. Scrooge blows of the Duke Baloney thing, which is fair given that while Scrooge screwed up there, Glomgold still stole money from him right after and then spent his whole life trying to one up him. But Glomgold has a different tale in mind as he stole something else from him: the limelight. 

It was 1980-something and Glomgold was a bonified celebrity in Duckberg for his hot dogging, grandstanding and treasure hunting loved by all and took Baba Wawa, a nice mix of Barbra Walters and the parody of her on SNL by the late Gilda Radner, to a shark shaped cave to get the gem of the shark god, a ruby tooth at the end of the cave. Naturally Scrooge popped up and easily made his way through and stole the spotlight. As it turns out he wasn’t always well loved and it makes sense: he dismises Baba asking him about how disliked he is, and dosen’t care and even in the current story, or rather season 1 of it, he dismiseed PR entirely in Jaw$. He was rich enough and enough of a job provider he just didn’t see the need for fame or glory, that just came second so it’s logical no one liked him. Fortunes naturally reverse as you’d expect though: Glomgold dashes forward and ends up putting Baba and her camerabird in danger and being Glomgold he irrationally assumes she’s working for Scrooge and leaves her to die. Scrooge however, after getting the rock, goes out of his way to save her because it’s the right thing to do. He can be selfish at times, and as we’ll see monstrously so, but at his core Scrogoe is a good man who will do right when the chips are down. So this leaves Glomgold trapped and Scrogoe getting his good press instead and realizes he likes the attention. 

As the flashback ends Glomgold fills in the gaps, pointing out he was stuck with the sharks for days, but slowly bonded with them learned from them and they became family, helping him with traps, joining him for thanksgiving and even getting a heart taatoo with a shark on it. Awww. Look I didn’t really need to know where Glomgold’s love of sharks came from, nor that he had some weird tarzan origin story with them.. but my life is 100% better knowing all of this so thank you Frank and Matt. Thank you. I’m also entirely convinced the two have had this whole part of his backstory ready to go for three seasons and were waiting to use it, along with the other two bits we’re about to get to. This episode as you can tell is also a vingette episode, but one where the wraparound is way more improtant than usual.. but it works given the setting and allows the stories to be as long as they actually need to be, and it addds some nice stakes instead of just having Scrooge’s villians gripe about him. 

Scrooge protests and the Bailiff puts a clamp on his beak, so he has no choice in the matter when Louie steps up for the defense. Louie also proves that irresponsible he may be.. he’d be a damn good lawyer, as he easily picks things apart, pointing out Glomgold was ALREADY bad by then, Scrooge had no intent to steal the spotlight and Glomgold is currently planting dynamite under his chair, with predictable and hilarious results. So he gets put on the “good” side of the scale. Next witness.

Next up is Ma, and I was delighted that as I’d hoped and theroized this episode wrapped up one little plot point that while not major, was something I was curious about: Ma’s claims Scrooge stole Duckburg from her family.  This was also likely the backbone of the episode at one point as Frank pitched a beagle trial episode at one time, but Disney nixed it. Likely the magic stuff was added both to justify it better and to distract Disney Channel’s higher ups because they constantly underestimate what a child will like. It was for the best though as the beagles are just a bit weaker here: While Character Actress Margo Martindale is a delight and was specifically cast for the role, overall it just feels like they ran out of ways to make the beagles a big threat and releigated them to muscle when needed, to the point they only appeared in one episode besides this one this season as with FOWL about, they didn’t really need villians of the week and what ones they did use like Glomgold and Mark were far more entertaining villains who needed a coda to their stories.They aren’t bad characters, but in a series where their breaking into the bin or mansion wasn’t a story the crew was interested in they served no real purpose. 

So we finally get answers about the whole Deed thing: It was sometime in Ma’s childhood, good look guessing when, and the Beagles owned Duckburg having clearly overwhelmed Fort Duckburg at some point in history between Clinton’s defense of it and now, with Grandpa “Pa” Beagle finally making an apperance. In the comics he was basically what Ma is to both series: the scheming brains behind the beagles who showed up on occasion and it was a good idea to use him as the past version of her. 

Scrooge naturally comes a calling and unsurprisingly Ma was lying: Scrooge offered to buy the place first from Pa, he refused outright, and then when Scrooge showed off the money he was offering, Pa bet the deed for it in an arm wrestling contest. Not only that but as Scrooge finds out as he almost looses, Pa was cheating having a smaller beagle boy operate pull a lever in a device attached to his arm to give pa extra force. Scroooge simply dropped a few coins to distract the guy and claimed victory and the deed. 

Little Ma is left dejected though and Doofus claims he ruined his life, but Louie steps up, at this poitn Scrooge has learned to reign himself ina nd accepted Louie as his defense without saying anything, a nice subtle bit. He probably realized that while irrepsonsible.. Louie has everything to loose her and no reason to slack off and dosen’t even relaly have to lie for his uncle to get him off: he’s simply using his ablitiy to see all the angles to poke holes in their story. 

Case in point, he orders the “tape” to continue and finds Little Ma berating her dad for his failure and forcefully taking control of the family. LIke Glomgold, Scrooge may of cost her something.. but it was something she and her family hadn’t earned and they were still on a bad road. Scrooge just made it worse. 

But suprisingly, its MAGICA, who we’ve established is an uncaring monster, who has a story Scrooge genuinely feels bad about. Like the rest she was not a good person: Long ago she and her brother Poe were extorting a villiage, and lording over it as gods, changing the population into goats, toads and other things. The only diffrence from what Magica would do to the blot and presumiibly others later, is that Poe reigned in her manical tend ices, trying to get her to think things through. The goat transformation was so they’d have milk and at least get something out of it and as to not waste all their slaves. Poe is voiced by Martin Freeman of The Hobbit and Black Panther fame. Great actor, does amazing work here.  So like the others Scrooge changed things, and fought someone with bad intentions for his own self. He talked Magica into fighting him with both amulets by playing into her ego and Poe trying to talk her down, and easily deflected her bolt with the dime to turn her into a crow with her own spell. So far it’s just like the other tales in a nice mirror.. it’s what comes next that makes Scrooge into a  bad guy too. Not as bad as Magica and Poe.. but sitll not good. Poe dives selflessly in front of the coin.. and shockingly while she cared nothing for Lena.. that wasn’t the case for Poe. Magica is truly devastated, desperatly trying to put the amulet back on and begging scrooge for help while he just ignores her and fills up his sack. And while they both deserved it... Scrooge and Louie both recognize he was wrong as the flashback ends with Poe escaping and Magica sitll haven’t having found him to this day. And props to Catharine Tate here a she takes a normally hammy terrible person who was wholly unsympathetic and manages to make her painfully human.  

What makes the act so terrible is not who it happened to, they both desrved it, but Scrooge’s attitude, utterly callous to magica’s pain with not a drop of sympathy. While she deserved it as did Poe.. he’s not doing this to her as some justice for her crimes, or because she did something horrible to him or any valid reason.. he’s doing it because he’d rather get more of her and poes gold than lift one finger to help someone who had , for all his evil, selflessly sacrificed himself for his sister. For all Poe’s evil and tyranny.. there MIGHT of been a good man in them, in both of them.. and Scrooge could’ve cared less. He shut the door on Magica ever becoming a good person, ever getting her brother back to line his own wallet and to satisfy his own ego. See that’s the true mark of a hero: how they treat others, even the worst of them. And in his lowest moment Scrooge could’ve cared less about anyone but himself. 

Scrooge feels bad and Louie does finally get the responsibility thing and this is where things start to go off the rails: he apologizes to Doofus and admits he dosen’t want an enteral rivalry and h’es sorry for any pain he caused. The off the rails part is because Doofus is genuinely not a good person, ahs done very bad things and is trying to bankrupt Louie for the crime of “taking half your fortune after you used it to torment and enslave your own parents’. It just.. dosen’t play as well as they’d like. That said I DO like both Louie deciding to bury the hatchet instead of just avoiding him and Doofus showing some nobiity in accepting it. Maybe he’ll change. 

He goes off into the night, and Scrooge genuinely apologizes and accepts repsonsiblity... and here’s where the plot finishing going off the rails and into someone’s living room: the bailiff AWARDS THEM SCROOGE’S FORTUNE BECAUSE HE ADMITTED SOME CUPLABLITY AND WAS HUMBLE. 

This just.. it makes no sense, it will never not baffle me and it hurts my brain> Yes he admitted some wrong doing and apologized for it.. but it was also THROUGHLY proven the other two weren’t his fault, and he was simply being a good man which should get him some good. Thankfully the conclusion is a bit better, as Louie points out while they made him, he made you so who made who, who made you... okay i’m getting into the AC/DC of things point is these incidents all shaped Scrooge into a better person.  His mistake with Magica. is clearly learned from. He’s stopping a group of bullies in Ma’s story and saving a life without a second thought in the second. He learned to value others, to value family all because THEY showed him what happens when you don’t. By seeing the worst person he could be.. he became the best. So the trial’s thrown out his assets are returned, and their teleported out before magica can hit them with lighting. Lesson learned.. well kinda Louie tells scrooge to do it because he got the pet. 

Final Thoughts for The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck:

Great title aside.. this one is a mess. It’s not a terrible episode: the flashbacks are genuinely engaging, each one helping flesh out the villians and in Ma’s case pulling one last dangling plot thread. Glomgold’s was just entertaining , clevelry using his 80′s origns for an 80′s style news special and giving us the origin to his love of sharks that we didn’t know we needed., Ma’s tied up a loose plot threat with a fun flashback and Magica’s was genuinely heart wrenching and did the tall task of making us feel for someone that terrible. The wraparound.. was a bit weaker. Doofus was the best part, playing an excellent manipulative bastard lawyer, and being a genuine threat and his walking away peacefully was a nice touch, and Louie having to defend scrooge was great and showed him off better than ever. And Louie did get some moments to shine.. it was just wierldy bookened with him acting terribly AGAIN, in a way he should know better than in an episode where he acts fine for most of it and even then he thinks lying to a judge is a good idea! I know he’s 12 but he’s not this stupid and while as I made very clear i’ve seen this shit before, I haven’t seen it flip flop in the same episode. Louie deserves better than this. 

But it’s also in service to a responsiblility aseop that just.. dosen’t work as presented. Yes you should take responsiblity for your past, yes you should learn from your mistakes and own up to them, I have, and yes it’s all too easy to slide back> That’s all fine.. but him apologizing to Ma, whose family was terorrizing a town, and Glomgold, who he did nothing to, and having Louie apologize to Doofus, who while he tried to exploit him still enslaved his own parents and deserved to loose half his fortune AND loosing half his fortune wasn’t even the main thing Louie wanted to do as his main goal was getting BOYD a loving family.. it’s bullshit. Just pure Grade-A bullshit. Why are you booing them their right. It’s a good idea for a moral but it’s executed so overwhelmingly poorly it bogs down what was otherwise an exceptional episode, into just passable.  It’s just mind numbing and saddening to know the next to last episode wasted so much good ideas on a clumsy moral. Thankfully I have hope the finale will be better, and again at least we got some good out of this one. 

Next Time: Endgame Baby! Clan McDuck and their Amazing Friends Vs F.O.W.L. for the fate of adventure itself! One last ride! I can hardly wait!

This week on the blog: Ducks Ducks and more ducks.. and a top 12 list of my faviorite superheroines later today’s for international women’s day. But after that we have more of the Della arc, the last step in the Lena arc before Shadow War next week, and the 87 ducktales pilot treasure of the golden suns!

If you liked this review, share it around, follow for more, and you can comission your own for 5 dolalrs an issue or episode, or kick in some money on my patroen, link on my blog. Even a dollar a month helps and my next stretch goal is 5 dollars away and if we reach it i’ll review both the super ducktales mini series introducing gizmoduck AND a darkwing duck episode a month. Until the next rainbow it’s been a pleasure. 

[peachiekoo]

One Beep || JJK

“I think it’s unfair that we can’t do anything about what our heart want.”

⇢ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader ⇢ Genre: Angst; Fluff; Romance ⇢ Warning(s): Hints of divorce, slight flashbacks to dark past moments, denialism at certain points ⇢ Word Count: 2.04K ⇢ Posted: April 10, 2020 ⇢ A/n: Hey, so I made a fic based off of a show I’ve watched recently called “Love Alarm”. It has since became one of my favorite k-dramas! I’m extremely happy that this idea suddenly came to me. (I deadass don’t think I’ve ever been this hyped to write a fic) I hope you guys enjoy and also there might grammar mistakes which I sincerely apologize for!

Everything that happened was an accident actually.

Maybe everything would’ve been fine if you only went to class at least a good two minutes later. All of it could’ve been avoided if you weren’t trying to go run an errand for a friend. But then again, who knows?

It was a Monday morning at exactly 7:50 am when you got a text from one of your closest childhood friends, Chaeyoung.

[7:50 am] Chae🍊: bubs,, where r u??

[7:50 am] You: studying in the library

[7:52 am] You: why?

[8:01 am] Chae🍊: do you think you could drop off my paper to ms.eve? i left it in your bag

[8:01 am] You: rn?

[8:03 am] Chae🍊: I mean,,, I would appreciate if you did

[8:03 am] Chae🍊: <3

You sighed and rolled your eyes. Classic Chae move, you thought to yourself. You closed the book you had checked out beforehand as you neatly placed it in your bag before you looked for her paper.

Finally, finding the paper slightly wrinkled, you made your way to the exit. You decided to take the shorter way than the usual way since you wanted to quickly get back to studying again before heading towards your next class.

While walking, you were busying yourself with your phone. Looking at a few unread messages and scrolling on twitter before you heard a group of people discussing a new app. 

It wasn’t your intention to eavesdrop but something one of them mentioned was an app that could tell if someone had a crush on anyone in a 10-meter radius.

“Unbelievable,” you scoffed quietly.

You continued walking past them as you decided to search up about it when you were recommended an app, LoveBeep. You chuckled at it. Do people really believe this? From the app details it’s popular at the moment. Are people just that gullible.

You were so engrossed by the app that you didn’t even see the tall figure in front of you. “Sorry! I-” Your sentence stops in the tip of your tongue when you realize who it is. He reaches a hand out for you without even throwing a second glance at you.

It was Jeon Jungkook. You two were never once friends but you shared a few good past memories together as your mom used to babysit him every once in awhile growing up. Now he probably wants nothing to do with you.

You felt your heart race in anxiousness. You quickly grabbed his hand and pulled yourself up before dusting yourself off and heading towards the main reason you were on the floor anyways.

You suddenly stopped though. You turned on your heels before gently tapping him on the shoulders. He looked at you with an annoyed look shadowing over his face.

“I’m sorry.” you sputtered.

All you heard was an annoyed sigh before he faced all the way towards you. He glared down at you. You felt as if you were shrinking, both mentally and physically. You watch him softly chuckling before he turned his gaze back to you.

“I don’t want your dirty ass apology, Y/n. Your mom has already enough,” He spits. “Why are you apologizing for what your mom did? Did you have any part in it? You pity me don’t you.”

You took a few steps back unconsciously before he grabbed your arm and pulled you close. He placed his mouth over your ear. “The fact that you constantly try to fix your mom’s dirty deeds is annoying. She should be able to feel the pain that she’s given others.”

Your eyes water at that for yet, he wasn’t wrong. She did bad things, but that didn’t make her a bad person. You pushed the boy off of you with resentment in your gaze.

It was silent for a moment before your voice broke it. “You know nothing. Nothing at all. You think you got it all figured out don’t you,” you hissed. “Don’t you!” you raved.

You felt the burning tears sliding down your cheeks. “I’ve tried so hard to be generous to you. Do you think I wanted things to be like this? Do you think you’re the only going through things?” you declared. “Go to hell, Jeon!” you shouted before storming off.

Finally, dropping the papers off, you continued on with the rest of your day. Doing your very best to avoid the brown-haired boy at all costs.

It was a late night, you were bundled under your covers. You looked across the room to see a Chaeyoung peacefully asleep in her own bed. You sighed as you rolled into another position so you could finally go to sleep but it seemed nearly impossible no matter how hard you tried.

You looked over at your phone and you remembered that ridiculous app from earlier. You grabbed it from the nightstand before typing the name into the app store before downloading

Once it was finished downloading, you inspect med the app. The first thing to pop up was a loading screen that displayed tips about the app. Once it finished loading you were introduced to a welcome sign before it faded out into 3 rings with a zero in the middle of them.

It seemed fake. Like an app, a seven-year-old girl would download to try to find her imaginary prince charming. Nevertheless, it still intrigued you. You stayed up the rest of the night trying to find out more about before you crashed around 4 am.

A few months later, it finally starting to begin spring. The incident with Jeon is far in the back of year head as you sit on the bench and enjoy the warm air and the few blows of cool air surrounding you as you took a considerable bite out of your apple, listening to Chaeyoung as she rants about her latest “life problems”.

You feel content for the first time in a while. You feel in your gut it won’t last for long though. You inhale a deep breath to just take the moment in. You let your eyes flutter closed for a second, reassuring Chaeyoung that you’re still listening to her.

Suddenly you hear your phone beep. You look at the notification to see from LoveBeep, saying exactly, “Someone in a 10-meter radius loves you”. You were just about to put your phone back since it wasn’t like it was the first time it had beeped before but you had felt a certain urge to look up.

You looked up to see Jungkook walking past you with a friend. You were just about to ignore the occurrence when you realize, he was, in fact, within a 10-meter radius when your phone buzzed. You felt your cheeks tingling at that.

No, it wasn’t him. It can’t be him. You convinced yourself. You’re in a school, there are tons of other students within a 10-meter radius of you. He was also walking with a friend meaning it could’ve been him.

The incident could’ve been easily ignored if for the past few passing you had with him within the last month didn’t result in your phone beeping. Every. Single. Time.

You kept trying to ascertain that it was another reason for this but what really got you was when you were in art class early, drawing a few sketches to waste time. You had felt your phone vibrate as you got other notification from LoveBeep. You had heard the door open before you turned your attention over to where the sound was made.

It had fully hit you. Jungkook is the one beeping you.

You were currently waiting by the exit of the school since Chae was taking way more longer than expected oddly since it was normally you that was always late.

The majority of the students had already left school, only a few people walking around which you assumed was for the after school clubs. You decided on going into the school to go find her when you saw the boy down the hall.

“Jungkook, we need to talk,” you said as you walked up to him. You felt your phone vibrate again in your pocket before you let out a sigh.

“What?” he asked nonchalantly. He looked up at you like you were, in fact, wasting his time.

You tilted your head at him slightly look at him straight in his eyes. You just wanted to get it over with.

How can he act so damn rude yet still have feeling for you? Seems kinda fucked up.

“Listen, I don’t wanna be here just as much as you,” you smirked at him. “I know you like me, Jeon.” All you heard in reply was bluff of air coming through his sealed lips.

He rebuked, “What in the actual fuck are you talking about? You genuinely think I out of all fucking people would like you?”

Annoyed, you pulled out your phone and went directly Into the app.

“Then what is this?”

“An app.”

“What app jackass.”

“LoveBeep obviously.”

“Okay, and what does it say.”

“I’m not reading that you can do it yourself.”

You groaned in annoyance. “Are you just that fucking difficult?” You shot the phone right in his face. “You like me.” You disputed

“You’re gonna believe an app?” he yapped through tight lips. An obvious thick tension in the air had you fidgeting with your school skirt. The reality of it hit you.

This dickhead, the one who is steadily hateful towards you. The one who you once were close with. Yet, he is someone who had a full reason to hate. Not hurting any less though.

You hated him. But you loved him. Not in the cheesy ‘I’m in love with my enemy’ type of way. But the ‘You and me against the world’ type of way. A platonic love that was now one-sided from something which you strictly blame on yourself no matter how many times you tell yourself otherwise.

Your mood suddenly turning more sour at the realization, you mutter out a barely audible “Why?” before keeping your gaze with his eyes.

“You are so sick and twisted. I know she fucked up everything but you just let it out on me and then when I feel like I did it you have then you yell at me about why am I trying to fix shit that I didn’t do. It’s because of you!” you exploded.

Not stopping there, you step to up still maintaining the connected glare as you continue on. “Then you have the fucking audacity to like me? What the fuck is wrong with you.” You wept, your emotions finally overpowering you. You were so filled with anger but it was useless because there was nothing you could do about it. “It’s so unfair you can live your life like this while I’m just here.” you ended.

“Live my life like this? My parents aren’t even in the same fucking country because of her and you think your life is tough because I developed unwanted feelings for you?” He argued.

Anger flurrying through you, your arm flung at him involuntarily, slapping him in the process. “You don’t know everything!” you screeched tear stains down your cheeks before storming off.

As you were walking off, you heard him yell out to you causing you to stop. “I think it’s unfair that we can’t do anything about what our heart wants,” You heard him let out an emotionless chuckle. “If we could do you think I would like someone as low as you?” he deadpanned before listening to his footsteps walk off.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.” you gritted out before continuing on. Deciding on going home, you decided to text Chaeyoung ahead of time.

[4:51 pm] You: im gonna walk home early

[4:51 pm] Chae🍊: ? did something happen :(

[4:55 pm] Chae🍊: y/n???

[4:56 pm] You: can we talk about it later please

[4;56 pm] Chae🍊: ofc bubs

[4;57 pm] Chae🍊: do you want me to order your favorite takeout when i get home?

[4:57 pm] You: yes pls

And that was the last time you had any interaction with Jungkook.

a/n: I hope you enjoy this series!

[lovingmyselfcore]

Chapter One

Skate Into My Heart -- Solangelo AU

It’s finally here!

In the prologue I said that sectionals came first- I’m sorry part of the internet lied to me. Regionals is first so that’s what’ll be happening here

Bryce was barreling towards him.

Clarisse attempted to take the puck and stop Bryce but today he was chock full of red-hot anger and elbowed her out of his way, swiping at her ankles with his stick.

She barely managed to skate out of his way and yelled, “Lawrence! What’s the matter with you!” 

It seemed to go in one ear and out the other.

He kept the puck close to him, keeping every other player away from him.

And he just kept his course straight to the goal. Straight to Will.

It was a practice game. Didn’t he know that? What was he doing? This wasn’t a big deal.

Bryce was still skating when he shot. It seemed like it was in slow-motion. The puck soared through the air, rising off the ice.

Will dove to block it from entering the goal - which was the wrong move. It hit him square in his chest, with enough force to make Will abruptly lose his breath.

Bryce came to a halt in front of him, spraying Will with ice shards.

“Lawrence, it seemed like that had quite the pent up aggression,” Connor said, while Will caught his breath.

Bryce rolled his eyes, taking off his helmet. “Just cause Solace and the rest of you are weak pussies.”

“Pussies’?” Travis came up behind Connor. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Clarisse only snarled her agreement.

“Guys,” Jason said. “Come on, it’s just Bryce being Bryce.”

Bryce turned to face Jason. “What is that supposed to mean, Grace.”

Jason crossed his arms, his eyes flashing. 

“Why was that the term you picked?” Clarisse asked, her voice low. Dangerous.

“This isn’t helping anything.” Will cut in. “Let’s just leave it. He’ll learn his lesson eventually. Someone will teach him.”

Jason seemed to steel himself, “Yeah. Let’s not fight.”

“Why?” Bryce taunted. “Are you both gay or something?” Will felt his hand twitch, almost curling itself into a fist. Surveying the team, everybody seemed to be holding themselves back.

Will was saved from answering Bryce’s (admittedly, most likely rhetorical, though it was doubtful he knew what that word meant) when he heard someone yell, “Will!”

It was Kayla standing at the edge of the rink. He skated over to her and came to a stop in front of her.

He jumped up to sit on the thick barrier and pull his skates off. “What?” He looked over to see Kayla looking at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages now. Your mom keeps calling your phone.”

Will went quiet, holding back a curse.

Kayla looked at him sympathetically despite him not saying anything.

“Alright. Thanks.” She patted him on the shoulder as he wove around her.

“Hey, mom,”

“William. Why haven’t you answered me?”

“I’ve been practicing, mom.”

“Practicing for anything in particular?” Her voice was high - too high - he knew this always meant she expected an answer he couldn’t give her.

“Hockey, mom.”

She sighed sadly and he got defensive.

“You know I’m only playing to try and somehow help me get through med school.”

“I know, honey. But still, it’s such a brutish sport, and locker rooms,” He could feel her shudder through the phone. “All the men.”

Will knew better than to probe about what that meant.

It would be easier to get through med school if you let me ask - or even talk - to dad. You and I both know he’d be willing. It is Medical School.

He didn’t say that though, it would only piss her off or make her sad and it just wouldn’t be a good situation. 

After an awkward silence, he saw Jason poke his head into the narrow corridor Will was in. Jason made some frantic, but quiet (ever polite) hand motions.

Will didn’t know if he should be feeling such intense relief, considering Jason’s face was pretty panicked.

“Mom, I’ve got to know. They need me.”

“Okay,” She said hesitantly. “Make sure to study tonight. You’ve got to keep everything fresh. Always.”

He wasn’t even in school yet. (He was trying though). And she wanted him to know everything.

Will didn’t know what he hated more. His mother’s expectations, or Bryce Lawerence. Really, it was a difficult choice.

She hung up before he could say anything.

He jogged over to where Jason was. “C’mon,” Jason said.

While they were walking Jason kept glancing at Will with a concerned expression. “What,” Will said finally, lips quirking into a smile.

“You alright, man? Your facial expressions during that call didn’t seem great.”

Will shrugged dismissively, “Just my mom. You know how that is.”

Jason laughed darkly, “Don’t I.”

“So what’s up,” Will asked, remembering how frantic he’d been.

“Oh, yeah. Um.”

Will grinned, “Spit it out, Grace. I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

Jason snorted. “I need someone to come with me to the figure skating Regionals tonight.”

Will tripped over his own feet but caught himself before he hit the ground.

Jason looked at him with brief worry then just burst out laughing.

“Leave me alone,” But Will was laughing too. “Why?”

“So you know, my sister Thalia,” Will nodded - everybody knew Thalia - “She’s best friends with this woman, Annabeth Chase. They’ve known each other since Annabeth was seven. Old history ya know.”

“So Annabeth’s a skater. She was going to be competing actually. But something awful happened with her boyfriend, he’s across the country. I’m unsure about the details. Thalia left to meet them earlier today, she’s also close with the boyfriend, I guess. So Thals needs me to go because apparently these tickets cost a lot and she doesn’t want them to go to waste.”

Jason’s voice got low like he was sharing a conspiracy nobody knew. “A little secret about me, I appreciate figure skaters.”

Will let out a surprised laugh and made his voice as low as Jason’s, “Me too.”

Jason smiled, “I figured. Which is why I’m inviting you. Thalia had two. One for her, and one for Grover Underwood.”

Will hummed his acknowledgment. “Yeah, dude. Of course, I’ll come. Just tell me time and place.”

Jason pumped his fist in the air.

~~~~~

Jason had told him he would pick him up, so here Will was. Waiting for Jason to arrive. He’d dressed nice (but not too nice) it was a competition after all, and despite how much he’d deny it his mother’s lessons in etiquette had stuck.

Will was texting, sitting on the couch up against the window in his small apartment. He was letting the dying sunlight filter in and light the space. The reds and oranges and yellows made Will look like some sort of deity. It haloed his hair and accentuated the sharp planes of his face. His feet were propped, knees bent, next to him. 

It was a groupchat with Austin, Kayla, and himself. The only way it could be summed up is: chaos.

Kayla: Sooooo

Austin: Yes?

Kayla: Not you

Austin: How dare you

Kayla: Go play your saxophone and feel better

Austin: I will

Austin: Not because you told me to

Kayla: Oh of course not

Will: So that ‘soooo’ was for me, then?

Kayla: Oh yeah

Kayla: Any cutes boys you’ve met recently?

Will: You know that you’d know if I met anybody

Austin: Is there anybody lgbt even at the rink

Will: Oh yeah but nobody I’ve noticed I like

Kayla: :(

Will was startled by a knock on the door. 

“It’s open!” He called, getting off the couch to meet Jason.

~~~ Nico

I slowly sank to a sitting position, feeling the rough brick scrape my back. I knew it would leave noticeable marks but right now, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I had been stretching and messing around with the others but suddenly my chest had felt very tight.

Hazel had seen the pained expression on my face and made some excuse, letting me slip out the backdoor.

I couldn’t do this.

Saltwater. I tasted salt water.

I couldn’t.

It trickled down my neck.

I couldn’t.

I was so fucking weak.

For so, so many reasons.

I could feel the gradually growing serpent of my anxieties building in the back.

I hadn’t practiced for this enough, and I was going to let everyone down.

The judges were going to find out my most closely guarded secret and-

No. Forget the judges. Everyone was going to find out.

Everyone.

I was probably going to mess up and embarrass myself in one of the biggest competitions of my life.

I was going to let everyone down.

Again. 

I’d found a family and all because I was a fucking failure, I was going to lose them.

I knew I had enough cash in my bag to leave if I had to.

By bag I mean the one I always had:

A change of clothes

Cash for bus tickets

Bottled water and protein bars

A pocket knife.

But it wouldn’t be enough, would it?

I still wouldn’t be able to get away from the shame.

From any of the shame.

Why did I have to be this way? Why

I couldn’t breathe

I couldn’t fucking breathe.

The saltwater ran like a perverted caress down my face and neck and chest.

I shivered involuntarily

“Hey,” The voice was soft, and not familiar.

I turned so quickly half of my face scraped the wall.

We winced in sync.

It was the boy I’d seen in the rink some time ago, the hockey player.

~~~~

Will

“Hey, Jason?”

He looked at me.

We were being jostled through the crowd. There were so many people. So many.

“I need some air. Can you text me our seat numbers?”

He paused and looked at me. At how my eyes flitted around the room and my flinch every time someone ran into me.

“Yeah, of course, dude.” He made shooing motions with his hands, making me snort. He grinned but kept staring at me until I turned around and started pushing my way through the crowd.

I knew I couldn’t go outside the front door, there would be even more people there. So I did something scandalous.

I pushed open the door marked Employees Only and was ejected outside the back of the building. 

I was walking along the wall when I saw movement a few feet away.

It was a boy, pressing himself against the wall like it was simultaneously all that was keeping him alive and like he wanted to fade into it.

“Hey,” I murmured like I was attempting to talk down a tiger.

He turned, scraping his face along the wall. But he didn’t seem to feel it.

He looked like some kind of ghoul, sitting there. The bad lighting from the street lamps washed out his ivory skin, making him look deathly.

Those dark eyes peered at me.

He’d look terrifying, except he appeared too small for his body.

He was shivering, tears running freely down his face.

At the angle he was sitting, it looked like his bones were almost poking out of his skin.

Some sense in me was screaming to help him, and though he looked like the opposite type to accept my help he hadn’t run away either.

I looked him up and down and saw with panic he seemed to be holding his breath, but he didn’t seem to realize it.

I didn’t know who this boy was, besides seeing him occasionally at the rink.

But we were both here and like hell was I going to leave him.

~~~~

Nico

He was looking at me with a look of sympathy. Not pity. Sympathy.

He reached out but I flinched away from him and he let his hand drop.

“Can you breathe?” His voice was serious but caring. I couldn’t really see him, the water in my eyes distorted him but I felt like he was some kind of god. He looked like pure sunlight.

I only shook my head, suddenly feeling the urge to take large gulping breaths.

“Put your head between your knees.”

He didn’t reach for me again, but his fingers twitched like he wanted to.

The surrounding world was a dull roar in my ears. The serpent, who’d been ready to devour me whole, angrily shrank back into the recesses of my brain until I could only see those slit-pupiled eyes. It was only lying in wait. Like always. When I lifted my head, my scowl was back.

Despite the rivulets of saltwater- not tears, I couldn’t call them that - I snarled at him, “Leave me alone. I didn’t ask for your help.”

He raised his hands in surrender, “I’m sorry. I’m not going to tell anyone what happened here, so you don’t have to worry about that. Nico, right?”

I just growled again but he didn’t seem to take the hint. He had a small backpack next to him and he rummaged through it and handed me some tissues and a water bottle.

I raised my eyebrows.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to cross through to go to the bathroom.”

I grudgingly accepted and started wiping at my face after dampening the tissues. He pulled out a small tube of ointment. “Put it on your face, okay? The scrape is not that bad. But it can’t hurt.”

I just stared blankly at him and he laid it next to me with a smile.

He waved, a little awkwardly, as he walked away.

As I stared at the ointment and the tissues and water I could only come up with one coherent thought:

What the fuck

~~~~ Will

His phone pinged with a message from Jason. After a few seconds of searching, he found it in his small backpack. He distractedly glanced over the text.

Jason: We’re in row A, seats 5 and 6. Thalia got us right up front.

Will: Sounds good

Will: I’ll head there now

He slipped his phone back into his bag.

He really hoped Nico was okay. He was a figure skater and most likely is competing tonight, and Will had never seen him in action but he was almost positive they would need him.

“Hey!” Jason waved to him from their seats and Will slid in next to him.

“You okay?” Jason asked after Will got settled. “You looked pretty uncomfortable.”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not normally like that but something about that environment.” He shuddered. “Anyway, everything’s good now.”

Jason nodded with a smile.

Will surveyed the rink. It was nicer than their rinks back at the studio which was saying something.

He spotted the judge's podium, on a small platform slightly above the rink. There were five judges, none of them looking like they entirely wanted to be here and all of them looking like they would throttle whoever came out.

Not only did the judges look unhappy, but about half of the crowd also did too. They were all shifting like they were here, but there was somewhere else they’d rather be. Why come then?

Will couldn’t imagine being one of the skaters in the locker rooms right now, he’d probably throw up.

“First up!” The booming voice of the announcer made Will jump slightly in his seat.

“The singles competition,” He drawled. “From Crescent City…”

Will tuned him out as he watched the woman glide out onto the ice. She was really good and kept most of the crowd entranced, but Will also had an eye on the judges. Only a few of them seemed impressed but only one seemed bored, which most likely was a good thing for her.

“From Olympus Ice,”

Jason and Will leaned forward at the same time.

“Nico Di Angelo!”

Will felt himself clapping as soon as his name was announced.

Nico seemed to magically appear on the ice, looking significantly more confident than the last time he’d seen him.

He appeared to take a deep breath and steel himself before beginning his routine. It was magic. Pure magic.

The way he flew made it look like he’d been born to do this.

It was elegant, but, in a way, suspenseful. Like he could do something unexpected at any moment.

Will was frozen, lips slightly parted as Nico made everyone believe he owned the rink.

He wove a story with his fluid movements, a story that held Will captive.

He attempted a move that never in Will’s wildest dreams could he do, everyone watched as he spun with bated breath and cheered when he landed but the skater in Will recognized that he hadn’t done it. He almost did, and he definitely caught himself, but he hadn’t done it.

And if those judges were worthy at all for their position, they would know too.

Nico finally slid to a stop in front of the judges, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tilted upward, challenging them to mention the slip-up.

It was quite a scene. He looked almost ethereal and they were all sitting (or standing in Nico’s case) looked like something out of a painting.

Later, after the other singles and the partners and the ensembles, the audience was still, waiting for the announcement.

“The 1st place winner, and who will be going to Sectionals is…

Olympus Ice!” People burst into applause but Will was only staring at Nico who was standing with his team, a barely-there smile present on his face, but enough to make Will whisper, “Wow,”

Jason glanced at him, then at where he was staring. “Don’t do that, Will. No figure skaters. You know that.”

Will rolled his eyes and scoffed,  “I would never.”

Jason sighed and smiled, “Good.”

[snarkwrites]

09 | gangsta; sweetpea

Notes:

SO.. I uhh... Got super into writing this recently. I just really liked where it was heading after part 7. Yes. Yes, I realize that literally no one asked for more of this but.. I wrote it. Might as well share it.

I warn in advance. There as a graphic and detailed fight in this chapter. Also. There is a LOT going on in this chapter. A LOT.

This is the second of four parts I have already written and waiting to go. I know, I know.. Literally no one asked for this. But you’re getting it anyway.

Warnings:

loosely canon compliant - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. angst & slow burn, heavy sexual tensionstarting now, actually - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. violence / swearing & fighting, possible underage drinking and other shenanigans- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…eventual sexual content / a virgin original character- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there.

Pairing:

Andrews!Sibling OFC, Alyssa x Sweet Pea

Other Parts:

[ one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight -   soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn​ is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you’d like to be tagged for this story by all means.. Please let me know. Please, I beg. It’d make me super duper happy!!!

                                          NINE.

“What do you mean Hiram asked you to go cut their chains? Archie, this is not your place. They’re trying to fight back against this bullshit. Because that’s what this is, in case you’re wondering.”

“You need to make other friends. Literally anyone but them, Al.” Archie answered calmly. I glared at my brother from across the dining table. My father surprised me when he spoke up.

“You’re still friends with Jughead, right? How is that any different than your sister, being friends with Toni? Or that Fogarty kid? Or the other one, the moody one.. What’s his name?” my dad asked.

“Sweet Pea?” I questioned, taking a few more bites of my cereal. Grumbling about Hiram Lodge as I did so.

“He’s trying to help this town.” Archie muttered.

“What he’s doing is making people homeless. I bet you wouldn’t say that crap if he were trying to run anybody on this side of town out, Archie.” I snapped, pushing my chair away from the table, standing abruptly.

“Okay you two.” my father warned, glancing from me to my brother. Adding quietly, “Your sister has a point. That’s exactly why I’m going to talk to Hermione today about terminating the contract to build the housing.”

“Dad, you needed that contract.” I protested. Going quiet.

“I don’t need it bad enough to watch people gettin run out of their homes, tiny. I can find other jobs.”

“Dad..” I started, but he shook his head. Judging by the way his jaw was set, he’d made his mind up on this. I sighed, going quiet. Assuming that it was probably my fault he even made the decision that might just cost him the construction company in the first place. I think he could tell I was worried, because he caught me on my way out the door for school after Archie had stormed out, bolt cutters in hand to go and do Hiram’s bidding.

“I chose to do this on my own, okay? I just want to make sure you know that, Al.” my dad searched my face, waiting on me to give confirmation that I understood. I wasn’t entirely sure it was true, because for the past twelve hours, the fight had been ongoing between my brother and I.

“Actually, it was your mom who kind of reminded me what getting mixed up with the Lodges might bring on me. Has nothing to do with you and your brother fighting. But I wish you two would sit down and talk.”

I nodded, sighing. “I wish I knew he’d listen. But he’s changed so much since he started taking up with Hiram…” I shook my head. For the first time ever, I was actually kind of disappointed with my big brother.

If he weren’t under Hiram’s thumb right now, I have no doubt in my mind he’d either be helping Jughead with their protest, or he’d be doing everything he could to call attention to the issue.

“I know. Happens sometimes, tiny. All we can do is hope this whole thing is a phase and it doesn’t backfire on him. Be there for him when it does backfire.” my dad advised, pulling me into a hug.

As I went to step out, my dad tossed a brown bag towards me and I caught it. He smiled and shrugged. “Pretty sure when your friends get to school today, they’re gonna be starving. FP said they hadn’t eaten since 8 last night. This was some kinda hunger strike. Tell Fangs to share the bacon. I know he’s a growing guy, but shit.”

I laughed and smiled, doubling back to hug my dad. Really giving him a good squeeze.

“I love you too, kid. Now you need to get going.” my dad laughed when the hug broke, walking to the door and leaning in it, watching me til I got to the end of the street.

I spotted Cheryl waiting at our usual spot as of late and I made my way over. Opening the bag and letting her take out a biscuit. “Dad sent food for the others. That is, if Hiram doesn’t insist that my brother, idiot he is, escort them all straight to the police station.”

“Has your mother gotten back to you at all on the legality of what Ms.McCoy did before she stepped down as mayor?” Cheryl asked. I shook my head. Watching the sidewalk from the direction that Toni, Fangs and Sweet Pea normally came from intently.

“Where are they?”

“Toni texted me a few minutes ago. They’ll be here.”

“So Hiram didn’t make my brother and the other guys on the wrestling team take them to the station? Because if he thinks for a second I won’t dig into my college fund to post bail, my brother’s a bigger idiot than I ever imagined. Because I will.”

Cheryl was smiling at me. Giving a soft laugh as she bit into the biscuit she’d taken from the bag in my hands. “ Take deep breaths, lioness.”

I took a deep breath, deadpanning at Cheryl, “Happy?”

“It will suffice.” Cheryl’s grin broadened when she caught sight of Toni.

I let out a ragged breath when I saw our friends heading our way, fuming in anger. Sweet Pea seemed to be the angriest, arguing loudly with Jughead and Fangs about how they should’ve just let him go and not held him back or tried to stop some fight.

Toni, Fangs and Sweet Pea came to a stop in front of Cheryl and I. I held out the bag to Toni and she grabbed it, not wasting a single second. Grabbing a biscuit and groaning as she practically inhaled it. Then grabbing a few strips of bacon. “Oh my god, I love your dad too.” 

“There’s enough in there for everyone. Fangs, he said you had to share the bacon, man.” I laughed at the way this made Fangs pout a little.

I stopped in front of Sweet Pea who was still angry, almost shaking at this point. I grimaced at the bruise forming on his jaw. Stepping a little closer. “Are you going to eat, Hulk, or nah?” I teased, shaking the bag at him.

“I’m too fuckin pissed right now, Cherry.” Sweet Pea answered, a harsh tone. His jaw setting.

“Oh.” I muttered. I realized just how close I was standing to Sweet Pea and suddenly aware of that, I stepped away a little and let Fangs take the bag because I was tired of holding it. As we started to walk to school, I found myself walking right next to Sweet Pea all over again when Kevin Keller caught up to us and chose to walk next to Fangs, putting me in between Sweet Pea and Fangs by the time we’d all sort of formed a line.

“Kevin, don’t you own a car?” I teased gently, giving him a knowing smirk. I’d kind of picked up on the fact that he might or might not have himself a little crush on Fangs.

“It’s broken right now.” Kevin answered my question, nodding towards Sweet Pea covertly as he smirked at me. I bit my lip, glancing over at Sweet Pea as I shook my head. Because I knew what Kevin was about to assume and I knew that at best, Sweet Pea only tolerates me because of Fangs and Toni.

“Dad’s supposed to take me out to let me try getting used to driving his truck this weekend.”

“I’ll be sure to let my dad know so he’s on standby.” Kevin taunted, making me stick out my tongue at him. “I’m not that bad.”

“I’d like to agree, but I have Snapchat, so I know about your driving. I saw the go-kart thing. I had no idea  you could make a go kart drift, if we’re being honest. You drive like a lunatic, woman.” Kevin taunted. I pouted at him, folding my arms. “I do not! I just wanted to win.” I pretended to be annoyed, holding my hand up at him.

Sweet Pea’s hand brushed against my other hand and I glanced down. Curling my pinkie around his. Giving it a squeeze. I didn’t dare to look up at him as I did this, of course. When he didn’t pull away, I didn’t either.

He was upset. I considered him a friend. I tried to tell myself that my hopes in doing what I was doing were to calm him down. Nothing more.

But deep down, I was starting to realize that this might not exactly be the case. That maybe I felt things…

Things I knew he’d never feel in return.

Things I knew I needed to get over.

XXX

He bit his lip when he felt her finger curl around his. A glance over at her revealed that she wasn’t even looking at him, instead, she was buried in something Kevin was showing her on his phone. He’d almost swear that she didn’t even realize she’d grabbed hold of his finger again, but then, she gave it a little squeeze a few seconds after she glanced up from Kevin’s phone.

She still hadn’t looked at him. Or let go of his finger.

Every part of him knew he should let go but he didn’t want to. And he kept telling himself that more than likely, it wasn’t anything more than just her, trying to be a friend because he was madder than hell and it was obvious.

Oh but he wanted it to be so much more than that.

Their sides brushed again and his breath caught in his throat a little.

Fangs had a good point the night before when they’d been talking. It was getting harder and harder to hide the way he felt.

The fight he’d gotten into with Alyssa’s brother came back to him and he used Archie’s words as a reminder as to why he needed to forget the way he felt.

Because Archie did have a fair point when he pointed out that Sweet Pea wasn’t good enough for her and sooner or later, Alyssa spending so much time around them was going to get her in serious trouble or worse yet, hurt somehow.

But then what Fangs and Jughead both insisted the night before came back to him too and their advice made him want to fight. To act on the way he felt. To prove her brother wrong. To be with her. Be the guy who made her laugh. The guy she cuddled up with on a rainy Saturday to watch her horror movies. The one she came to when she was hurt or scared or just needed him.

They were making their way across the parking lot and she still hadn’t let go of his finger. To be fair, he hadn’t let go of hers yet, either. The connection was keeping him calm. Giving him other things to think about beyond the way he wanted to lose his entire mind over the fact that he was losing everything and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He felt powerless. He hated the feeling.

But the way she linked her finger through his and left it there gave him something else to focus on for a change.

And now, thanks to it, all he could think about was just how hard it was getting to keep his feelings himself.

“Alyssa?”

“Yeah, Kev?”

“Are you going out for the play? Come on, you have to.” Kevin pleaded.

Alyssa mulled it over, shrugging. About to shake her head before Kevin frowned. “You have to.”

“I’m not good at the whole getting up in front of people crap. We’re lucky I can manage cheering at the games without freaking out, Kev. Or have you forgotten the fairy debacle from Kindergarten?”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Kevin was giving her the pleading face.

“Kevin. I left the stage and ran to my dad. In front of the entire school.” she shook her head, laughing. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, me singing? The sound of cats dying. I am not going to put people through that.”

“Oh come on.”

“Nope. Not happening, man.” she shook her head, smiling.

“Toni and I are thinking about it.” Cheryl spoke up.

Toni raised a brow, laughing as she nodded. “Thinking is the key word here, babe.”

Sweet Pea took a deep breath. Willing himself to either let go of her finger first or push things a little further. Maybe grab hold of her hand. Or brush his hand against her hand. He grumbled in frustration when he couldn’t make himself do either thing.

After a second or two, he managed to find a way to graze his hand against her hand and make it seem as if it were an accident. To his surprise, before he could pull his hand away, she’d linked her fingers between his.

She glanced up at him for a second or two, licking her lips. Giving his hand a little squeeze. They were almost to the doors of Riverdale High by this point. He figured she’d let go of his hand, but she hadn’t yet.

Everyone else split off, going to their own classrooms. He let go of her hand to push open the door, letting her step into the room as he held it open, letting it close behind him. As they took their assigned seats, she sank down in her chair, digging around in the pocket of her jeans.

Holding out a pack of chewing gum to him. Sweet Pea took a stick of the gum, unwrapping it. Popping it into his mouth.

After opening the text books, their teacher spoke up, addressing the class.

“We’ll be doing a bit of a different assignment. We’ve been studying genetics and I feel that it would be interesting to give this a try. You’ll be given dice.”

Sweet Pea chuckled when one of the other Serpents in class with them muttered an audible, “Finally, somethin I fuckin know about.”

Mr. Keaton glared at the other Serpent, silencing him. And then Mr. Keaton continued. “You will then roll these dice to determine what physical traits that offspring between yourself and your lab partner would inherit. You will chart the results and write a detailed summary. If you choose, for extra credit, you may draw this offspring.”

Sweet Pea coughed, shifting around in his seat awkwardly. Because all this entire project brought to mind for him was a mental replay of a particularly dirty dream he’d had about Alyssa not too long ago. The silent acknowledgement that he felt this magnetic pull to her and the harder he fought it lately, the more it refused to stay buried. The way it felt when her finger curled around his or the way it felt when he’d taken hold of her hand on their walk to school.

Every single touch, accidental or otherwise as of late.

Alyssa fidgeted a little herself, he noticed. He found himself wondering if she was fidgeting because she was suddenly regretting being paired with him for the term, or if she was fidgeting for the same reason he’d been fidgeting.

,, There’s absolutely no way she’s into me.” his mind taunted.

Mr. Keaton passed out dice and once they’d gotten their dice and the list of physical traits that Mr. Keaton compiled they’d be rolling for, Sweet Pea cleared his throat.

“Wishing you’d made a fuss about now, hm? Gotten switched to work with no brains over there?” he said it only half jokingly.

“Why? Are you?” Alyssa asked, gazing over at him, a brow raised. Laughing softly. “It’s just an assignment, Sweet Pea. And you’re not like.. You’re not a leper or something. I mean, I could do a lot worse.”

“If you’re fine with it, what the hell.” Sweet Pea shrugged, chuckling to himself quietly. Trying to fight back the sliver of hope that chose that exact moment to rise to the surface. The fact that she wasn’t switching, while surprising, didn’t necessarily mean anything. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

From the back of the classroom, Reggie spoke up. “Mr. Keaton, I’ve been thinkin… Maybe I should switch partners with Sweet Pea.”

Sweet Pea tensed.

When he knew Alyssa wasn’t looking, he shot Reggie an angry glare.

Reggie smirked at him, daring him to say something.

Mr. Keaton looked from pair to pair, rubbing his chin. “Amanda? Alyssa? Would either of you want to switch?”

Mandy was just about to speak up. He felt Alyssa tense up beside him and heard her mumble to herself, “Not today, Satan..” as she turned in her seat, giving Mandy an angry glare.

Mandy glared right back at Alyssa before giving their teacher the sweetest smile she could muster. “I’d love that, Mr. Keaton. Reggie’s an idiot. I’m sure even that Serpent is so much smarter.” 

“The Serpent has a name, bimbo. You wouldn’t like it if I only called you bimbo, right?” Alyssa whirled around in her seat to snap at Mandy before she could stop herself. “Anyway, Reggie’s no stupider than you. Kind of a perfect fit if I do say so myself.” 

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes at Mandy, but he cleared his throat, tapping Alyssa’s shoulder so she’d turn around before she got into trouble. He found himself super focused on the way she got heated just now because Mandy hadn’t bothered saying his name.

“If he makes me switch, I swear to god, I’m unleashing my wrath.” Alyssa grumbled to herself. Making Sweet Pea take a shaky breath or two.

Why did this matter so much? 

Sweet Pea found himself a little surprised. He honestly thought she’d be jumping at the chance. He assumed she’d be happy to get away from him.

“Alyssa? Your thoughts on the matter?” Mr. Keaton questioned.

“ Nope. I refuse to have that absolute pig be the  father of  my non-existent children, sir. I’m fine where I am.” Alyssa answered, turning to shrug at Reggie as she said it.

Reggie pouted a little.

Sweet Pea smirked, shrugging at Reggie when their eyes met. Reggie glared at him, finally turning around when Mandy cleared her throat.

“You could’ve switched, Cherry.”

“ I realize this. But I didn’t want to.” Alyssa answered, finally meeting his gaze. Biting her lip. “Unless you wanted me to switch?”

“No, no. Fuck no.” Sweet Pea’s answer tumbled out in a rush. Alyssa laughed softly, managing a little smile. “In that case, we should probably get started. This is a pretty long list. Oh, while I’m thinking about it.. We’re trying to avoid my shitty eyesight, red hair and skin that burns at even a hint of sunlight.” she muttered, glancing over at him.

Sweet Pea caught himself doing it again, getting caught up in her eyes. Staring like an idiot. He nodded. “Okay, since we’re going there, Cherry. We’re trying to roll with the hopes that this kid doesn’t knock their fucking heads off every time they walk through a door.”

“I mean, it’s better than climbing shelves and counters to reach things your idiot brother puts out of your reach deliberately, but hey.. Go off I guess.” she teased gently, smiling at him. Holding out the dice.

“You roll first. I am.. Not good at dice.” Alyssa pleaded. Sweet Pea chuckled and shook his head. “Oh no. No, you first.” he smirked at her, he couldn’t resist it.

Alyssa pouted but  took the dice and rolled.

“Okay, so.. Doubles..” Alyssa announced when both the dice settled on the side with one dot.

“Twins.” Sweet Pea consulted the list. “We were rolling for a number of offspring just then, right?” he asked.

“They better have given me good drugs.” Alyssa joked, filling in the chart. “I’ll roll for one, you can roll for the other?” she asked. Sweet Pea nodded. Silently hoping to god she hadn’t noticed him staring yet again. He answered in a daze, “Yeah.” as he took the dice to roll again. This time they were rolling for hair color.

“You better roll again, sir. Remember? We’re trying to avoid red hair.” Alyssa nodded to the dice settled on the top of the desk between them.

“Actually, no. I’m not. You are, but I’m not.” Sweet Pea smirked, the smirk growing when he saw her pout a little about it. “Deal with it, Cherry.”

“Well, we’re off to a great start. Can’t even agree on hair color.” Alyssa teased, noting that they’d gotten the red hair trait from her.

She took the dice back. “Come on dark brown and functional brown eyes..” she muttered, smiling when she rolled for Sweet Pea’s eye color, but scowling a little when she managed to roll that yes, they’d have vision trouble. “Poor kids.” she shook her head, laughing. Holding out the dice to him.

Sweet Pea had been in a daze yet again. Luckily, he managed to pull himself out of said daze when she placed the dice in his hand. He rolled. Grumbling when he got himself for the height gene.

The bell rang a few seconds later. Alyssa gathered her books and started for the door. Sweet Pea caught up to her. “Wasn’t so bad.” he mused. Carefully.

Alyssa smiled, shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t.” hiding a laugh as Reggie and Mandy made their way past in a very heated and angry argument. She nudged Sweet Pea, nodding towards them. “Some people should never be allowed to procreate.”

“They really shouldn’t.” Sweet Pea answered, swallowing down a lump as it formed in his throat. Letting his gaze linger for a few seconds. “Hey, if you want.. We can finish this tonight at the Wyrm.”

“You’d be okay with me showing up at the Wyrm.” Alyssa eyed him carefully.

He shrugged. “It’s not any different than all the times you came with Toni.” 

“I’ll be there, then. Oh and Pea?” Alyssa turned back to look at him. He chuckled. “What?”

“Your name is coming off the top of the Mortal Kombat leaderboard. Tonight. Better bring your A game, sir.”

He bit back a groan at what she said. There was just something about the look in her eyes just now.. Teasing and playful… that combined with her calling him Sir definitely gave him a reason to need the walk to his next class.

Because he needed to pull himself together. He needed to get his head around everything and more importantly, he needed to really stop and think if he wanted to keep fighting whatever was starting to happen between them.

Because he’d been fighting it since he’d seen her around town for the first time. And he just couldn’t anymore.

Fangs caught up to him. “Didn’t you hear me yellin at you, man?”

“I was thinkin.”

“About?”

“Maybe you were right. About what we were talking about last night?”

Fangs smirked. “You’re gonna go for it?”

“I want to. Doesn’t mean I will. But I can’t keep saying I don’t.. Ya know.. When I do. Because it’s driving me fucking insane, man.” 

“Want her?” Fangs filled in the blank, snickering when Sweet Pea gave him a dirty look but nodded. As they made their way into class and took their usual seats in the back, Fangs leaned across the aisle. “For what it’s worth… I think she’s into you, man.”

“Yeah. I doubt that.” Sweet Pea looked at his best friend as if Fangs were losing his mind. He wished that were true. He wanted it to be true. But he doubted that it was.

“You’re blind.” Fangs chuckled, turning his attention to the note Kevin had slipped into his locker. Chuckling and rubbing his chin in thought as he debated on what his response was going to be.

XXX

Practice had just ended. I made my way over to my locker in the girls locker room and I opened the door, thinking I’d grab the clothes I bought to change into after practice. Clothes that were nowhere to be found.

I grumbled to myself, annoyed. A quick glance around the locker room put me onto the fact that Mandy and her little army of skanks were circled up, looking at me. Whispering and laughing. Mandy was bold enough to call out, “Missing something, are we?” as she held up my clothes, laughing… Slinking over to the door that lead into the hallway.

Tossing my clothes right out in the middle.

I turned and glared at her. “You bitch.”

“Aw, are you upset right now? What are you gonna do, Alyssa? Go cry to big brother? Go sic your Serpent trash loverboy on me? I’m so so so scared.” she nudged her friend Kaylie. “I bet she doesn’t do anything. I bet she just sits there and fumes like usual. I’m surprised she had the nerve to call me a bimbo earlier in class if we’re being honest.” Mandy smirked as she said it, glancing at me. Nodding towards the door. 

“If you want your clothes, sweetie, they’re right there! All you have to do is go get them…. Unless you’re afraid? Don’t flatter yourself, Alyssa. Nobody wants to see you in your underwear. Absolutely no one.”

I clenched my fists and took a deep breath or two. Mandy and her friends were all staring at me, waiting. Gazing from the hallway, where my clothes were piled up, back to me. Smirking and laughing because they were starting to think Mandy was right. That I wasn’t going to do anything. That I’d just turn and ignore Mandy’s attempts to goad me into a confrontation and shove down all my anger like I usually did. 

,, she wants you to turn the other cheek like you’ve been doing until lately. If you do that, you’re basically telling her she can get away with this crap.” the thought came and rather than shove it out in favor of being the bigger person, I leaned into it.

Because today was not the day and I was not the one.

I stood and walked out into the hallway. Right as the bell to dismiss final class for the day rang and the hallway was starting to flood with students. One of them being Sweet Pea. We locked eyes as I walked past, calmly going to the Riverdale crest on the floor that she’d tossed my jeans in the center of. Bending to pick up my jeans. Sweet Pea’s arm shot out.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, out here like that, Cherry? Have you lost your mind entirely?”

“Nope. I’m getting my fucking clothes. Since Mandy the thundercunt scattered them all over the hallway.”

Sweet Pea growled quietly, his fists clenching and unclenching. He took off his Riverdale polo, holding it out to me, but I shook my head, biting my lip and smirking as I did so. “Oh no. No.. see, if I don’t do something major now, she’s never going to fuck off. So thanks but no. Now put your shirt back on before you get in trouble.”

Sweet Pea eyed me. Shaking his head. I tapped my foot impatiently, holding his gaze. “Sweet Pea… Put the goddamn shirt back on. I know what I’m doing, okay? This is to prove a point.”

“What good is that gonna do when you’re caught by a teacher and you wind up in detention, huh? Take the fucking shirt, Cherry. Take it now.” Sweet Pea used his firmest tone, but I was too angry. It didn’t do anything to me.

“Put the shirt back on, Sweet Pea. Now.” I muttered firmly. A hand on my hip. “Do it. I’m willing to stand here until a teacher spots me if that’s what it’ll take to keep you from doing something that we know might get you expelled.”

“Goddamn it.” Sweet Pea gave up arguing, finally realizing I wasn’t going to budge one way or the other. Not until I’d done what I came out to do. And the less he argued with me, the quicker I could get it done and get back in the locker room.

I spotted my favorite Motley Crue crop tee near the girls bathroom. And totally zoned out, so angry that I was actually shaking a little, I paid not one single bit of attention to the fact that a few people were staring.

I was too pissed to be embarrassed and that is probably a good thing. Because if I wasn’t so pissed, I’d have wanted the floor to open and swallow me whole.

I spotted the red and black plaid shirt I’d been wearing over my tee shirt hanging over the rim of a garbage can and I calmly walked over, plucking it out. With my clothing gathered, I went to step back in the locker room, ignoring the one or two whistles and the Ghoulie who felt the need to comment something so gross that I debated heavily on walking over and twisting his dick in my hand until it twisted off.

I flung the door of the locker room open wide and when I did, it connected with Mandy’s face because she’d been standing there. Probably recording the whole thing to post on her socials later.

Because that’s totally something girls like her do for funsies.

She stumbled back, holding her nose as blood began to slowly pool between her fingers. And before she had a chance to react, I was slamming her against the lockers immediately to the right of the door. My forearm against her throat to hold her there.

“You’re going to erase whatever video you just recorded. Don’t fucking test me, you diseased thundercunt. Erase the video. I know you recorded the whole thing.”

“You little bitch, you broke my nose!” Mandy slammed her head into mine, causing me to drop my forearm from her throat and grab for my own nose. Once she was free, she threw a punch. I ducked it and came up swinging. Connecting with her jaw. And before she could even recover from the punch, I was grabbing her by the hair and shoving her head at the locker door.

She charged at me, knocking me on the ground. I grabbed hold of her face, trying to go for her eyes and once she was trying to block that, I flipped it and reversed it so that I was straddling her hips now. The first thing I did was grab hold of her phone and throw it on the floor a few feet away as hard as I could. When she tried to reach up and choke me, I choked her back and she rolled us so that she was on top this time. Fists were flying again. The benches that ran the middle of the locker room were being moved out of place. Lockers were being hit as we made full use of the floor in the girls locker room.

Her friends tried to rush over to help but Veronica and Cheryl stopped them from getting close as Cheryl called out to me, “Get her! It’s about time!” and she told Veronica firmly, “Lock the doors. Nobody gets in or out. Amanda has had this coming for a while now.”

Veronica nodded, locking the door to the locker room. Betty held off Mandy’s friends with Veronica and Cheryl’s help. Determined to let the fight keep going. At least until one of us or the other calmed down.

 I stood up, pulling Mandy off the floor. Pulling her towards the showers.

Turning on the water full blast and as cold as I could get it. Shoving her into it and as soon as I had her cornered, I leaned down to her level. Grabbing hold of her white and yellow Riverdale Vixens ringer that now had blood spattered on the front of it.

“You better hope that video got erased, Mandy, or this is just a preview of what your life’s gonna be like, honey.”  I said it quietly and calmly. “And if you think for even a second about messing with me again… Remember this.”

“You’re actually insane.. You crazy little bitch. Just wait. I’ll get back at you. This isn’t over, Alyssa.”

“Oh, I’m counting on that, you diseased mega skank.” I shrugged as I walked away from her, facing her. My middle finger up in the air. “You might want to clean yourself up, Amanda. We can’t have anybody thinking we were up to no good in here, now can we?” I challenged.

A teacher was pounding on the door and it started to click into place what I’d just done. I sank down on the nearest bench, panting to catch my breath. Trying to calm down. Letting the anger and everything subside.

Cheryl made her way over, Veronica and Betty in tow. Stopping to unlock the door as they went. Whatever Cheryl told the teacher had the teacher satisfied that nobody was up to anything bad in the locker room and leaving and once they had, Cheryl shut the door quickly. Leaning against it with her hand over her heart. “Whew. That was so close.”

Veronica sank down on the bench in front of me, the first aid kit we kept in the locker room open and across her lap.

“This is going to hurt, Al. I’m sorry in advance.” Veronica winced as she started to apply hydrogen peroxide to the few scratches on the side of my face and cheek.

All I could do was nod. Because I was still coming down from the adrenaline.

“If she messes with you again after this, she’s clearly an idiot.” Veronica spoke up after a few seconds. I shrugged. “Oh, she’s not done with me yet. But it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stop it before all hell broke loose.” Cheryl spoke up, wincing as I looked up at her and laughed it off, shaking my head. Trying to flinch away from Veronica as she came at my face with a cold and damp washcloth to clean the blood away from underneath my nose.

“Cheryl, trust me. I’m fine. I can handle myself. You guys were trying to count the votes, it’s not a big deal. Besides. I needed to stand up for myself.”

“I know, but if I’d been in here, I could’ve stopped her.” Cheryl butted in, gently but firmly.

“I should’ve stood up to her way before now, if I’m being honest. Take the high road, they said. It’s better in the long run, they said. That’s a load.” I grumbled. 

“Ouch fuck ouch hey.. Can you wipe less painfully?” I pleaded with Veronica.

She grimaced and muttered an apology.

“I can’t wait to hear about this crap later. Or try explaining it to my dad and Archie. Archie’s going to take the chance to spin this so that somehow, it’s anybody’s fault but mine.” I grumbled, shaking my head, disgusted at the thought.

“He’s just being a protective brother.”

“I wish sometimes he’d not do that.. So much. Did you know that he just stood back and let Reggie and Sweet Pea fight earlier when the team went to cut everyone loose?”

“I’m still angry with my father about that.” Veronica muttered, adding a second later, “But, that’s typical of him, though. He’s not happy until he owns everything and everyone.” Veronica fumed, shaking her head with a disgusted look on her face.

I bit my lip, nodding. Keeping my own opinions on the subject to myself. Because it’s not like she can control what her parents choose to do. And she tries to be better, she tries to make it so that there’s a very clear and obvious difference between herself and her parents, but with parents like hers, you wind up having to get your hands dirty sooner or later.

I’d just finished getting dressed and stepped into the hallway, finding Sweet Pea leaning against the wall.

“What the fuck was going on in there?”

I shrugged.

Mandy walked past with her friends and Sweet Pea looked from Mandy back at me. Grimacing as he caught sight of my face. Stepping closer. 

“Did she do that?” he eyed me in concern. Tensing up a little. The soft edge to his voice had my heart fluttering a little, but as fast as that started, I was quick to shove it down. Reminding myself that Sweet Pea only tolerated me because we happened to share two friends in common. His hand raised, gingerly touching at a bruise forming along my jaw. Hissing as he shook his head. I tensed a little because now that the adrenaline was completely gone and the shock I’d been in or whatever for the duration of my fight was wearing off too and now everything just plain hurt.

“Mhm.” I answered quietly, swallowing down a lump as it formed in my throat. Gazing up at him. I blinked when my body brushed up against his, not aware that I’d stepped closer to him.

“Did you do.. All that?” he nodded to where she stood at her locker in the hallway, glaring daggers in my direction, her friends flocking her.

“I hope you’re prepared to pay for Amanda’s broken nose, you crazy witch.” Kaylie called out calmly. “Her mother is going to make sure you pay for the fight.”

Mandy smirked at me. “I can’t wait to tell my mother everything. I’m almost as excited to talk to her about the way you’ve been bullying me as I am to post the video of you wandering the hallway of our high school in underwear.”

I tensed, taking a step away from Sweet Pea and forward in the hallway. Sweet Pea reached out quickly, grabbing me up and away by my hips. Putting me behind him as he eyed Mandy calmly. “You really don’t value your life at all, do ya?”

Mandy eyed him, gulping.

“It’s a simple question, Mandy.” Sweet Pea shrugged, smirking a little.

“What are you gonna do, Serpent? I can make one call and have you arrested.”

I growled from behind Sweet Pea. “Try it you fucking gremlin. Try it.” I threatened.

“Enough.” Sweet Pea’s tone was calm and firm as he looked from Mandy to me, folding his arms over his chest. I went quiet and Mandy’s lip quivered a little as she gazed up at him. 

“What you’re gonna do, Mandy… Erase whatever you recorded. If you don’t, you’re really not going to like what happens.” Sweet Pea stepped closer to her, giving a menacing scowl as he towered over her.

Just the way he said it had a slow and lazy heat settling in the pit of my stomach. Had my breath catching in my throat because of just the tone he took… You’d think he was my actual boyfriend. He was acting more like one than any of my past boyfriends, Reggie included.

If I were more hopeful, I’d almost want to say he meant every word of the threat he made to Mandy.

Mandy hurried off and Sweet Pea turned, settling his gaze on me. Eyeing my nose critically and grimacing. “It’s not broken. What the hell happened?”

“She was practically leaning against the damn door so when I threw it open, it hit her in the nose. She went to swing at me, I threw her against a locker… Then it kind of spiralled out of control from there?” I shuffled my feet, going fidgety under his intent and concerned gaze.

“Who locked the door?” Sweet Pea asked, admitting a few seconds later, “I tried the handle when I saw Mrs. Ellis heading for the locker room. I heard all the yelling and every time somebody hit a locker or the wall, so I figured something was going on in there… I was gonna warn you...”

“Oh, that was Cheryl. She wasn’t going to risk anybody going to get a teacher to come in and break it up.” I gave a soft laugh, shaking my head. I nodded towards the doors at the end of the empty hallway.

“We should probably get going. The last place I want to be locked in overnight is here.”

“Yeah, I was waiting on Fangs, but apparently, he ditched me.” Sweet Pea shrugged. I raised a brow, because that wasn’t like Fangs. Usually if he said he’d be somewhere, he was there.

“I haven’t seen him since lunch, come to think of it.” I spoke up after a few seconds.

“He probably bailed. He’s probably already at the Wyrm.” Sweet Pea shrugged. I nodded, agreeing.

“So.. ready?” I asked. Trying my best not to get my hopes up. Preparing myself for Sweet Pea to suggest going to my dad’s or to Pops instead of going to the Wyrm. Shocked more than a little bit when Sweet Pea smirked and nodded.

“Yeah. Just so you know, Cherry… If you think for one second you’re wiping me off the leaderboard, not gonna happen.” he chuckled as we walked down the hall and he paused to push the door open for me.

About halfway to the Wyrm, my hand brushed against his. I glanced down, biting my lip. Debating heavily on just grabbing hold of his hand.

Because friends held hands, right?

I mean.. I held hands with Cheryl and Toni all the time.

Except deep down, I knew that was not even remotely the real motive behind holding Sweet Pea’s hand. The simplest truth was that I just… Couldn’t stop myself from doing something. Anything.

I took a deep breath and carefully, I slipped my hand into his. Gazing down for a second or two after I’d done it. Shocked I’d actually had the damn nerve to go through with it. Even more shocked when Sweet Pea didn’t immediately scowl, tense up or let go.

Instead, his fingers laced with mine.

And like this morning, neither of us really mentioned it. But that tension that seemed to hang around us like a heavy cloud recently?

It got so very much thicker.

He pushed open the door to the Wyrm and I stepped under his arm, into the building. He stepped in behind me, nodding to a table with two chairs towards the back. Where it was a little quieter.

“We should be able to get everything finished back there, Cherry.”

I nodded. My eyes darted around. Finding it odd that the same people staring at me currently never even gave me a second look when I wandered in with Toni and Fangs.

I shoved the thought out of my head.

We were just two classmates.. Two friends.. Meeting to finish an assignment for school.

We made our way to the back of the bar, taking a seat at the table. At one point, while we were deep in rolling and making notes for the chart we’d been given and for our report we’d have to write later, FP wandered past.

“That’s good kid. Nice to see you actually takin school seriously. Don’t give Alyssa a hard time, buddy.” he flashed Sweet Pea a smirk and Sweet Pea nodded. Smirking right back at FP.

“People are looking at us like you’re doing something wrong.” I leaned in and whispered when I just couldn’t take the way people were watching like a hawk anymore and it had me curious.

Sweet Pea glanced up and around, shrugging. “ Most of the older guys think it’s impossible to be friends with a girl and won’t bring one around unless they’re involved with her. Is it bothering you?” he gazed at me, that concerned look in his eyes again.

I shook my head profusely. Taking a sip of the wild cherry pepsi that FP had brought over to us to drink earlier and wanting to kick myself for even mentioning it, because I had a feeling I’d probably just made things awkward.

And that was the very thing I was trying to avoid. 

We finally finished rolling for genetic traits and I finished up the sketch I’d been doing.

“Okay. If you laugh I swear to God.” I gazed at Sweet Pea nervously as I shoved the sketch pad across the table to him.

“Did you just do this?” he asked, staring at the sketch.

“Yeah. I’m not the best.”

I reached for the sketch pad. But not before it flipped a few pages and settled on a drawing I’d done of Sweet Pea when he hadn’t been paying attention one day while we were all hanging out in here, playing the Mortal Kombat arcade game.

Lucky for me, he saw that I’d done sketches of Toni and Cheryl sharing a Twizzler at lunch one day and Fangs working on his motorcycle in the parking lot before school one morning. When he got to the sketch I’d done of Reggie, he scowled a little.

“I wanted to burn that too but Cheryl convinced me if I ever decided to actually get off my ass and apply to art school after I’m done with Riverdale High, it’d be good for my portfolio. She literally tried to throw herself on the fire to stop me from burning all the sketches I did of Reggie.” I laughed quietly, wincing as I shook my head.

Every time I caught myself thinking about the fact that I’d been taken in by a charming smirk and flirtatious mannerisms and the charisma of one Reggie Mantle, it only reminded me how gullible I was. How soft-hearted.

You’d think that getting involved with a guy who all but stalked me and tried to spread nasty rumors and suggestive pictures of me that I never should’ve sent in the first place when I finally got smart enough to break it off with him before leaving Chicago would be enough to teach me.

Apparently, it wasn’t. Because I came here and what’d I do? I got involved with Reggie Mantle. And now, that was over and I was starting to feel things for Sweet Pea, a guy who probably only tolerated me because we shared friends in common.

That was another huge reason I was not keen on opening myself up too quickly all over again. I might not always make the best choices, but even I had the common sense to know that I needed time… I needed to bounce back. Figure things out on my own.

And all of that was another  huge reason I was determined to keep whatever I was starting to feel for Sweet Pea close to the vest. The more I could keep whatever I felt at bay, the better off I’d be. Because realistically, I just didn’t dare hope.

I was starting to realize I just couldn’t trust my own judgement when it came to emotional things. Until I got to a place where I could, I was doing the best thing I could for me.

Something tells me this is going to be so much harder than I could ever imagine though.

The door to the bar flew open and Toni barged in. Over to the table Sweet Pea and I were sitting at.

“Have you talked to Cheryl at all this afternoon?” Toni asked in a rush. 

“I tried to call her earlier but it kept going to voicemail. And we were just saying earlier that Fangs is MIA too…” I rubbed my  temples. I had the sneaking suspicion that I knew exactly what might have happened to Cheryl, because not so long ago, her mother had kind of caught wind of her relationship with Toni. And her mother was not thrilled.

I grumbled, digging in my jeans pocket for my phone.

It clicked for Toni that Sweet Pea and I had come to the Wyrm. Alone. Without her or Fangs present to act as a buffer.

“You’re here together, fuck. I’m sorry. I’m just.. I’m freaking out right now.” Toni glanced from me to Sweet Pea and then back again. “Are you two finally going to stop being snipey assholes and get along though?”

Sweet Pea shrugged, giving me a teasing smirk. “Maybe she’s not so bad… For a princess.”

“Maybe you’re not so bad either. For a giant grumpy asshole.” I teased right back. Feeling my cheeks burn hot just a little at the look in his eyes and the way he put emphasis on the word princess.

Because no, that did not help my current ongoing mental dilemma at all.

“You’re staying with me until we figure out this situation with Cheryl, right?” I asked Toni. Toni nodded, stealing a sip of my Pepsi. “I swear to God, if her mother’s hurt her…”

“If her mother’s done anything to her, she’s going to answer to both of us. I’ve got your back, Topaz.” I spoke up, giving Toni a reassuring look. I tried to call Cheryl again on my phone, but it went straight to voicemail too. I frowned at it, putting my phone away.

Toni eyed me and then glanced in Sweet Pea’s direction as if she were indicating that she wanted details later tonight when we were back at my dad’s place. Mouthing to me, “Well?”

I shook my head, shrugging. “We were just finishing that thing for Biology.” I mouthed. Glancing at my cell phone. I was not getting a good feeling at all. And the more Cheryl’s phone rang and went to voicemail, the more that bad feeling grew.

“It’s going to voice. He’s normally here already if he ditches.”  Sweet Pea swore to himself and shook his head.

“Wait.. he got called to the office right after lunch.” Toni spoke up. Swearing when she tried to call Cheryl yet again and the call went to Cheryl’s voicemail as it had just done for me. She shoved her phone into her pocket and took a few deep breaths. “Maybe she just went to sit with her Nana. They haven’t let her out of the hospital yet, I don’t think.. That has to be it.”

The door flew open again and this time, my brother and Jughead were rushing in. Stopping to talk to a few of the other Serpents we went to school with who were present. Whatever Jughead told them had them rushing out the door in a hurry. I eyed them but quickly turned my attention back to the situation at hand involving our two missing friends. Trying to retrack the events of the day. I remembered it then, Fangs had been called to the office during lunch and after that, I hadn’t seen him again.

We had the second to last class of the day together. He hadn’t been there. 

“You guys have to get out of here. Get everyone out of here and out of this side of town now. They’re about to raid the Wyrm.” Jughead and my brother rushed over to us. My brother let out a ragged breath when he caught sight of me. “Thank god. There you are. I was worried when I couldn’t find you. What the hell happened to your face, pixie?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain later.. You guys. Explain. What the fuck do you mean we have to get out of here? Archie, what’s going on? What have you let that jackass talk you into this time?”

“Nothing! It’s something I overheard, okay, look. I know you’re still pissed at me. But you guys need to get everyone together and get the hell off of this side of town, okay? Just trust me. Do it. I told Dad what was going on and he said that we could put people up until FP figured something out.”

Sweet Pea eyed my brother with a wary look. I eyed him too, wondering briefly if this were some kind of a trick that Hiram put him up to. Wondering how the hell he managed to get Jughead in on it if it were.

“What the hell is going on tonight?” I wondered aloud after a few seconds.Not even ten seconds later, one of the older bikers wandered in, getting a hold of FP, taking him to the back to talk.

“Are you makin this up, Andrews? Is this a trap? Because to me, that’s what it feels like.” Sweet Pea tensed. His fists clenched at his side and my brother shook his head. “No. This is me. Trying to make up for all of the other stuff, okay? Look. Hiram set the whole thing up this afternoon after he got done arranging to have Fangs arrested earlier.”

“He’s not lying. I just went down the the station, man. Fangs is there. They’re holding him for questioning and they won’t say a fucking word about why he’s even there. And while I was there, I heard some of the guys in the break room joking about how fun it was going to be, cracking some Serpent skulls tonight. If we leave now, they have nothing. They don’t get any evidence, they can’t make any arrests.” Jughead explained impatiently. “We have to go. We needed to be gone ten minutes ago, if you want the honest fucking truth, Pea.”

“Dad really said he’d let them hide in our house. You’re not lying.” I questioned my brother, gazing up at him. Standing taller. “Because I swear to God, Archie, if this is a trap.. If any more of my friends get arrested because you have a burning desire to be Hiram Lodge’s long lost son or whatever the fuck it is you want to accomplish.”

My brother cut me off. “I’ve been working undercover. I wasn’t supposed to tell you anything. I wasn’t supposed to say anything to anyone, actually. Getting close to Hiram is… for the greater good.”

“Uh huh.You mean like the actual greater good or the oh look, pops bought me a ferrari for christmas because I’m a good little fucking stooge greater good?” I questioned, a brow raised and my hand on my hip.

“Al, we can finish this argument once your friends have their shit and they’re heading back to our side of town. I’ll gladly finish this discussion then. Dad sent me and Jugs to get everyone away from here.”

“I don’t know..”

Sweet Pea cleared his throat. “I’m not saying I trust you, Andrews. But I’m willing to take what Jugs says with a grain of salt. He is one of us now.”

Toni and I exchanged a surprised look, but then everyone started to rush around and gather their things as quick as they could. And as soon as we were all out in the alley behind the Wyrm, the first of at least six police cars came flying by, blue lights flashing and sirens blazing.

I let out a ragged breath and glanced up at Sweet Pea. When I caught on to the fact that he was both angry and silently freaking out, I reached down, gently grabbing hold of his pinkie finger with mine. Giving him a weak smile when I glanced up at him.

He didn’t smile back, but as we rounded the corner and promptly had to find another alley to go down to hide because another cop car rushed past, I felt him squeeze my pinkie finger with his more than a time or two.

Almost the second we crossed over into the North Side, I realized just how eerie and quiet it was.

Too quiet.

Nobody was saying anything. We were all too tired from running. Hiding. 

At one point, Toni reached down and grabbed the hand of mine closest to her, giving it a squeeze as she muttered into my ear quietly, “I hope Cheryl is okay.”

“We’ll get up to my room and figure something out, okay?”  I promised in a whisper.

And on the other side of me,  I felt Sweet Pea’s hand lazily close on mine. A squeeze so light that I honestly didn’t think he even realized he’d done it.

It took a few seconds, but I dared to glance down. Eyes fixing on the way his hand engulfed mine. His fingers laced between my fingers. Before I could stop myself, I dragged my thumb knuckle lazily over his palm. Gave his hand a similar light squeeze as I glanced up at Toni to pretend I wasn’t aware I’d done it.

Once we were all in my dad’s house, FP showed up. Explaining that he was currently trying to figure out somewhere everyone could go. Letting people who’d gotten separated from family during the whole scramble to leave whether their people made it and were incoming or at another place that FP had taken the other half of South Side to keep the cops from finding everyone at once or whether they’d been caught and were going to need bail.

My dad and Archie took over the kitchen with the help of FP and Jughead, making food for everyone. Once everyone else was set up and occupied and there wasn’t anything else I could do to help my dad and my brother, I went to go find Toni and we slipped out of the chaos downstairs, retreating up to my room.

The second the door was closed behind me, Toni spoke up.

“You don’t think Penelope killed her.”

“Toni, no. But I do think that she’s keeping her somewhere. Remember Cheryl telling us that she needed to tell us something important? I think that whatever she was going to tell us is the reason we can’t find her right now. Her mother makes Joan Crawford look like a fucking saint.” I fell back across my bed and stared at the ceiling. Sitting up a few minutes later.

“Hey, that girl in my English class… her mom’s a nurse. I can ask if Cheryl’s been there to sit with her nana.”

I dug my phone out and texted the girl in question. Frowning when the girl answered that she’d been there earlier, but she’d left to go home.

“She’s not there. Okay, I do not like the way this feels.”

“Me either.”

We sat in silence on my bed for a few minutes, trying to figure out a way to find out what happened to Cheryl. As I tried to think of places she might have gone or hidden at, I texted my mom about Fangs being kept at the station.

She texted me back, asking if I knew why they were holding him and I texted her back that we were trying to figure out why and we were hoping she’d call and scare someone into giving some form of an answer.

I frowned when she called a few minutes later and explained that she hadn’t been able to get anything. She asked what the hell was going on in town tonight, telling me that while she’d been talking to the secretary at the station, she’d heard a lot of yelling and angry chanting from outside. And a lot of whispering and hushed laughing.

I told her about the raid and I told her about Midge’s body being found during the school play. I told her that people had been starting rumors for whatever reason that Fangs might have done it, because Midge and Fangs had something going on.

“You’re staying out of trouble though, right? With your brother going through whatever it is he’s going through, sweetie…”

“About that.. I kind of got into a fight. But none of the teachers know. Nobody saw it.”

My mom sighed and I frowned, tensing up a little at a possible lecture incoming. When it started, I sat there with the phone away from my ear, letting her go on for a few minutes before I explained calmly, “I’m not going to stand back and be a doormat either, mom. And since Archie is doing all this and showing his entire ass, I need to take care of my own problems. Mandy was a problem, I solved it. End of discussion.”

“First of all, don’t take that tone with me. Second of all.. Does your father know? Did you tell him any of what you just told me?”

“No. I only told you what I just did to get you off my back. Mom.. I’m.. I love you and I’m sorry. I can’t be perfect and I can’t be something I’m not.”

“I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to stay out of trouble.”

“It doesn’t feel like that though.”

We exchanged tense goodnights and goodbyes and I ended the call, tossing my phone at the top of my vanity as I flopped back against my bed.

“Ever feel like the black sheep?” I wondered aloud. Feeling bad about it after I said it, because I realized that Toni literally only had the Serpents, Cheryl and her grandfather and me. I palmed my face and shook my head, ashamed. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I get it. My grandpa and I argue a lot.” Toni gave me a sympathetic nod. 

I shook my head at myself. “I swear, my mom and I are constantly butting heads. It’s part of the reason I never understood why she insisted I was the one to go to Chicago with her and that Archie stay here in Riverdale with Dad.”

“Probably because trust me. There are some things that men are not equipped to deal with.”

“I mean, true, but…”

Toni laughed quietly. Stretching a little. “Maybe Cheryl just wanted some space. I haven’t found anything out from anyone else.”

“All I know is what she told me before she left practice. She was going to see her Nana Rose again.”

“Yeah, she told me that too. But she’s been jumpy all day. Like she’s scared.”

“I noticed too.” I agreed, nodding. “Maybe she’ll be at school tomorrow. If she’s not, we’ll ditch and try to find answers or something.”

“Yeah. I’m too wiped to think anymore right now and if I do, I’m going to drive myself insane. And if I do that, we both know I’m going to go off and do something fucking dumb.” Toni admitted as she pulled back the cover on the other side of my bed.

“You’re cool with sharing a bed? I mean, all things considered.”

“Please,I know you have a very specific type of red-head and it ain’t me... Besides. You’re my friend. I’m not making you sleep on the floor.” I answered, gathering my things because I figured that everyone who was planning to shower tonight had probably done so already.

I made my way down the hall, reaching for the handle to the bathroom door right as Sweet Pea pulled it open from the other side. With a towel wrapped around his waist. I spun around, immediately going red in the face. “Shit, fuck. I’m sorry, I.. I thought everyone had already gotten a shower and gone to sleep?” I called out without daring to turn around and face him.

He cleared his throat. “Nah. I told Archie to go before me. I’m the one staying in your house. Didn’t want to intrude.” he tapped my shoulder when he’d pulled on his jeans and I turned around. He took a step forward to come out the door at the same time that I took a step forward to go in the door. We wound up body to body in the hallway. I gazed up at him, licking my lips.

He grimaced as his eyes settled on the bruise on my jaw from the fight earlier in the afternoon. “Did you show your dad? That looks a lot worse now.” His voice took on a concerned tone. 

I shook my head. “Nope. I already had more than enough lecturing about it from my mom earlier when I called to get her to see if she could find out anything about why Fangs was arrested and being held.”

Sweet Pea raised a hand, dragging it through damp hair. A droplet of water trickled down his forehead. Then dropped onto his nose, rolling down it’s slope. When it dripped down and rolled down his lips, my eyes were glued to it’s movement.  He cleared his throat, repeating the question that he’d asked me I apparently hadn’t heard. “Did she find out anything?”

“Just that they’re holding him until they have to let him go. If I had to guess though, it’s because people were saying crap about him and Midge having a thing going..” I muttered quietly. Shuffling my feet against worn wooden floorboards. 

“At least you tried.” he muttered quietly, gazing down at me. His eyes darted to my bruises and scrapes from my fight with Mandy earlier and he cleared his throat. “You should go tell your dad what happened. Just in case she is dumb enough to upload anything she might have recorded and we can’t coerce her into taking it down on our own.”

“If she does, she does. Won’t be the first time something like that happened.” I blurted it out, going quiet as soon as I realized I had. Tensing a little because I really hoped that he didn’t pay it any attention. Or that he didn’t push to know what I meant.I wasn’t even sure why it slipped out. I fidgeted a little, nervous. He eyed me, but luckily, he didn’t ask for further details.

The last thing I wanted right now was for him to know exactly how stupid and pathetic I was and still am. If he knew I’d been dumb enough to sext Dave and Dave had turned and used the photos against me or any of the other shit that I got into in Chicago… I pushed the intrusive thought out of my head.

“Cherry?” Sweet Pea muttered quietly. His eyes fixing on mine. Hints of a smirk playing at his lips. As quickly as the thought came ,, he has literally no idea just how devastatingly handsome he really is, I swear to God.” I hurried to shove it out. Bury it way down deep. Try to ignore the way I felt the slightest flutter of my heart. Or the way my throat seemed to close up when I realized that we were migrating closer to each other and that his hand was brushing against my hip just barely.

“Yeah, Pea?” I finally managed to pull myself together enough to get out the words. Gazing right back up at him, falling in right over my head and virtually powerless to stop it from happening.

“Night.” he yawned as he stepped out of the doorway, making his way back downstairs. From the sound of it, my brother had dragged out one of his old gaming systems. And apparently, he and a few other Serpents were sitting up, playing some long forgotten game. I made my way away from where I’d been peering down the stairs just to make sure that things weren’t tense between everyone and I turned, slipping into the bathroom.

Turning on the hot water and leaning against the wall, letting it cascade down onto my body from above. Just… trying to process the entire craziness of the day so far.

By the time I slipped into my side of the bed, Toni was already asleep, wearing my black velvet eye mask over her eyes. I found one of my other ones and slipped it down over my eyes.

And it seemed like in literally no time, I was out like a light. Exhausted from everything that had gone down in one day.

[seavoice]

i don’t believe in an interventionist god

Sometimes, Fate sticks you together for years. Sometimes, Fate sticks you together for half an hour.

Or — maybe, you don’t meet each other because of Fate’s best attempts to bring you together. Maybe it’s in spite of its best attempts to keep you apart.

[this IS a pjo fic, i promise. ao3 link in the title]

//

Adam didn’t have the time or emotional wherewithal for dying grandmothers.

It sounded so terrible, but it was the truth. Today had been a hard one. The transfer from Chicago to New York City had been a much needed change of pace, a welcome one, but his workload at the new hospital was so much more stressful than the last. Bigger, more reputed, and exponentially busier. It ate away all of his time and more than a fair bit of his peace of mind.

But whatever. He could take the late nights and early mornings, the incessant paging by his attendants, the neverending piles of paperwork and his Chief Resident’s pissy attitude on even the worst of days. As much as it sucked, he was the one who had signed up for this kind of life. He’d known what he was getting into the minute he’d decided to become a doctor. He had known he would spend the rest of his life paying off the student loans for med school, being bossed around by his superiors and being puked on by his poor patients. Whatever. All of that had been — to be completely cheesy, but also completely honest — a cost he had been willing to pay for a chance to save lives.

Technically, Adam had also known that death would be a tragic but inevitable part of the life he had chosen. As terrible as it was to think about it, Adam had thought about it. He would mourn the patients he lost, he would be kind to the families he broke the news to, he would not forget the losses he witnessed, he would remember each and every one of those faces and names. But at the end of it, he would pull himself up, because he had a job to do, lives to save still. He would mourn each patient, but he would not drown in grief. His seniors had warned him that growing too attached to patients was a slippery slope, a fine balance — you wanted to be kind and warm and empathetic, but losses piled up over the years. To be a good doctor, they had said, you had to be kind and you had to remember the losses, but you also had to make peace with the presence of death.

Easier said than done.

The thing was, it wasn’t even his day to be on call. He’d been covering a shift for a friend with a family emergency, and it was going to be like any other day. Draining. Tiring. But normal.

And then the kid had died.

Sweet. Twelve. Brown haired and bright eyed, and so, so sick. Cassie was her name, and her green eyes had fluttered shut bare seconds before she’d flatlined. Her parents had clutched on to each other, the mom nearly collapsing to her knees while the dad buried his face in his wife’s hair and held her up. Adam had spoken to the grieving, broken parents with steady words, and disconnected the girl from life support with steady hands, and he had filled out the paperwork with his steady handwriting, but after that he’d walked out to the reception on his break and suddenly he was no longer steady. It was like he was coming apart at the seams, and Sarah, one of his friends and fellow residents put her phone down and stared at him.

“You alright?” She asked, hand still worrying the phone cord.

“Yeah, just…” Adam closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He could still hear the parents wailing down the hallway as the senior surgeon in charge spoke to them. “You know how it is. She was — uh, very young.”

Sarah nodded in sympathy, “Cassie right? I met her during rounds when I was on Dr Freehold’s service.” She tucked a strand of her red hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry, Adam.”

“It’s okay. It’s —” Adam reached into his lab coat and pulled out his beeping pager. He groaned. “Aw, shit. Room 114.”

Sarah winced. “Oh, that’s the—“

“Yeah,” Adam sighed, stuffing the pager back into his pocket. “Jack’s off today cause of the family thing, so I’m rounding with Dr Solanki. Wish me luck.”

Old. Sweet. Terminally ill, but still extremely intelligent and alert. Jack was just one of the residents on the case, not the primary attendee, but the way he’d briefed Adam about this particular patient you’d never know it.

Patient 114. She was famous throughout the hospital for her visitors. So sick, but so visibly loved, because there didn’t go a single day without her being visited by a steady stream of children, grandchildren and friends. A remarkable life led, clearly, a life full of overwhelming love.

Adam wondered, sometimes, how a life like that looked from the inside. Wondered it for himself.

He’d never be lonely, for one. For another, he’d never want anything more.

Adam wondered, sometimes, how anyone could get over the loss of a life like that.

He sighed again and read the name on the patient chart. It was a lovely name. Sarah gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and then he was off to meet Dr Solanki.

Dr Solanki waited a second for him to catch up, then she knocked on the door to Room 114. The elderly woman inside had her eyes closed, grey hair a regal cloud on the pillow. She wasn’t sleeping, she was holding herself too stiff for that. “Ma’am? Can I come in?”

The woman opened her eyes. They were sharp eyes, warm and old, but with an intelligent sparkle. They looked like storm clouds.

“Dr Solanki, hello. How are—Oh,” the woman said, moving to sit up straighter she saw Adam. She propped herself up on her pillow. “You’re the one in for Dr Jack Sullivan? He told me he had to leave for Minnesota. Something about his sister?”

Adam nodded and offered his hand. The woman had a surprisingly firm grip. No. Not firm, strong. A President’s handshake. A football team captain’s handshake.

“I’m Dr Tartal,” Adam said, pushing a smile on to his face. He gestured to his clipboard. “I’ve been brought up to speed on your case—“

“Oh, it’s hopeless isn’t it?” The woman laughed gently at Adam’s inability to school his features fast enough. “Ah, I’m sorry, that was blunt. But I’m quite familiar with my disease and the odds, you see. It’s pretty hopeless. There’s not much to do.” She looked at Dr Solanki. “You’d agree, wouldn’t you, Dr Solanki?”

Dr Solanki smiled politely. Patient 114’s illness was not one with a full-stop cure, and they all knew it. It was a smile Adam knew well, a common shorthand for doctors everywhere— yes, for all practicality, but not technically. While medicine was a lot about practicality, patient care was about technicalities. And tact. “There are still many options for—“

“Dr Solanki doesn’t believe in death,” the woman told him. “She doesn’t believe in my death, specifically. There’s always more options for her.” She said it with a distinct fondness; she and Dr Solanki shared a small, familiar smile. “But, alright. I’ll look into your options, Dr Solanki. You have given me months more than my prognosis ever promised.”

Dr Solanki nodded. “The nurse was here to take the temperature earlier, I believe?”

“Yes, I was running a fever, but it broke.” She pointed to Adam. “This one is shaping up to be a good doctor? As good as Dr Sullivan?”

“Dr Tartal is one of our most promising residents,” Dr Solanki said. “You are in very good hands.” She inclined her head. “I’ll get you the relevant literature, and I’ll come in to explain the treatment plan. Have a good day, ma’am.”

“You too, Doctor,” the woman said. “Thank you for everything.”

Dr Solanki shook the woman’s hand, and then with a nod at Adam, she left the room. Adam gave his chart one last once-over and was just about to take his leave as well when the woman fell back with a weary sigh, blowing a strand of grey hair from her face.

“Dr Solanki,” she began, “is the very, very best. I quite literally owe her my life. But there is no hope.”

Adam didn’t say anything. This was the most difficult part of being a doctor, these conversations. No protocol, no training. It wasn’t so much about being a doctor in these moments than it was about being a human. And there was no school for that, no degree.

Good thing, though, Adam thought wryly. He was already drowning in student debt. He didn’t want to tempt Fate, or the American education system.

“I’m not sure if I’ll even make it through the night, to be honest,” the woman said. She closed her eyes. “Gods, I don’t want to die, but I really am so tired.”

Adam still didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry for unloading this on you,” the woman said at last. “Dr Tartal was it?”

This at least Adam could formulate a response to. “Yes,” he said. “And it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

“My children are running late today,” the woman said. “Weekday, you know. It’s fine, really. I’m glad. They have their own lives, and I’m glad my constant nagging them about that fact has finally gone through their heads. They’ll be here later. But this sudden silence...it’s weird.” She let out a weak chuckle and opened her eyes. “I’ve grown so used to all their overwhelming love, I’ve become greedy. I’ve not been so lonely in a while. I don’t really remember how to be.”

A look inside. Adam had wondered.

“Can you keep me some company?” The woman said. “Of course, only if you aren’t busy. I get that as a doctor—“

“It’s okay,” Adam said. He could spare a moment. The woman reminded him of his grandmother in a way, and how lonely she’d been those final weeks, wasting away in a nursing home on the other side of the country. He drew a chair and sat down next to the bed. “Unless I get paged for an emergency, I can stay.”

“I cannot thank you enough,” the woman said. “I just—I do not want to be alone, now.” She sighed. “Really, I’m lucky,” she said. “Not many get the loving family I have. Believe me, I would know.”

“Is it just your children?” Adam asked. He felt the tips of his ears burn a second later. He was being too forward with this patient. He tried to backtrack. “I mean—“

“My husband passed away ten years ago,” the woman said. Her eyes held a glimmer of sadness, but mainly she seemed amused at Adam’s flustering. “It’s alright, Dr Tartal. I was the one who asked you to stay and keep me company.”

“Has it been terrible?”

“Sad,” she said, “yes. Painful. But we had seen too many of our friends die too early to not take each day for the gift it is. He was seventy. It was a long, good life.”

Adam nodded.

“We built something permanent in our time together,” she said firmly. She wasn’t talking to him now, not exactly. Her eyes were far away. Far away from this hospital room. Far away from now. “Something that will outlast us.”

“That’s—“ Adam struggled to find suitable words. This wasn’t unusual really—people were more willing to share their life stories at the end of their time. It didn’t really make it easier for Adam to react though. “That’s really good,” he finished lamely.

The woman didn’t seem to mind. She was silent for a few moments longer, eyes a million miles away, a million years away.

“Enough about me,” the woman said at last. “Let’s hear about you. You’re from New York?”

“Chicago actually,” Adam said. “Moved here last December.”

“And you like it here?”

“Hm. It’s…” A new start, Adam thought. A new place to call home. He’d worn out Chicago—Chicago with his parents who didn’t speak to each other, Chicago with his old school that had given him nothing to miss, his old hospital that had given him nothing to stay for, Chicago which was much, much bigger than him, but now felt like a glove that pinched his fingers when he wrestled it on, a place he’d outgrown and had to be left behind. “It’s happening,” he settled on. He let out a self-conscious laugh. “I mean, it’s New York. It’s happening. It’s cool.”

“Yeah, I bet. I’m not from New York originally either. But my husband was. Loved it with every fibre of his being. I do too. It’s where I found my home. My family.” The woman weaved her fingers together and looked down. When she looked up, she met his eyes with a tired, knowing expression. “It’s happening certainly. City of the gods, isn’t it?”

That was a strange way to put it, but Adam didn’t say anything. New Yorkers were fiercely and loudly proud of their city—city of the gods wasn’t really the most egotistical or absurd of claims, to be honest. More than a couple of his colleagues had called it “the greatest city in America”, a few even going as far as to say “the greatest city in the world”. Adam didn’t really have anything against the city, or in fact the claim, but he thought that was perhaps a little too bold and presumptuous of his friends, considering that hadn’t lived anywhere else.

“Forgive me if this question is too repetitive,” the woman said. She laughed. “Or too much of your classic “old grandmother you meet at a wedding” question. But I have to always ask, I’m so intrigued; medicine is a gruelling career. What made you choose it?”

A flash of green eyes. Sweet smile. A sob bursting forth as the mother went crashing to the floor, her husband’s arms reaching out to catch her even as tears slipped down his own face. Twelve years old written on a death certificate.

Gruelling was an understatement.

Adam himself wondered why he had chosen it some times.

At first it had been easy to explain—you said I’m going to be a doctor, and people didn’t interrogate you on the hows and whys. They congratulated you, clapped you on the back, went here’s a promising young man! A noble profession! Throughout med school he’d had his reasons, recited carefully to fortify himself during the hardest all-nighters: a good stable job, a way to help people, an interesting profession. It was a fascinating subject to study. It was a noble job, one that could save lives.

And then he had become a doctor. Those reasons shifted and changed, and some days it was worth it. Some days not so much. Everyday it was different.

Today it was this—to see that there were no more Cassies. No more signed death certificates for twelve year olds. No more mothers collapsing to their knees on hospital floors, no more fathers breaking down next to them.

It wasn’t a possible wish, a probable reason. You couldn’t wipe away every tear from every eye, and you could not save every sick child you treated.

It didn’t mean he could not try, however.

That was what it had become for Adam. Trying.

But he didn’t know how to put it in a way that felt impersonal, that didn’t feel naïve and corny, in a way that felt like he wasn’t unloading his deepest wishes on essentially a stranger. So instead he just tried to fix a grin and said, lightly, “Well, I had the scores. And I’ve always liked pushing myself.” This wasn’t the complete truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. And it was enough for a woman he had just met.

The woman seemed to accept the answer. She closed her eyes. “I guess that’s fair enough,” she said. “An ambitious young man.”

That was a way to put it.

“Do you believe in any afterlife?”

Adam shrugged, “Not really sure? Maybe not. My family’s never been big on religion, or God or anything, so that wasn’t really something I’ve thought about.” He paused. “I’m willing to be proved wrong though. After.”

The woman chuckled. “Yeah? Open mind.”

“It would be more interesting than total oblivion, that’s for sure. Do, uh, do you believe? In any afterlife?”

The woman’s hands were clasped tight in her lap. Her good humour seemed to have been replaced by a sudden and jarring sadness, but it didn’t rattle Adam as much as he would have thought. There was something else shining through the sadness, a quiet but ferocious hope that laced her words. “Yes,” she said. “The Underworld.”

Adam’s first thought was underground crime circle, exhilarating despite himself. It was surprising to imagine this woman as part of any crime ring, but it would make a good story for sure. Then he remembered the grainily illustrated “Greek Mythology For Kids!” he had had in his childhood, a birthday gift from a well-meaning aunt who lived too far away and visited far too rarely to get to know his real interests. Adam has only flipped through it once half-heartedly before it had been lost or torn or given away, but he remembered the crude sketch of a dark cavern. Hades it had said. Greek afterlife.

This was probably weirder than the crime ring. But he’d met people with weirder stories. Weirder dreams and hopes. So what if this sweet old woman believed in the Greek underworld? He wasn’t one to pass judgement on people’s beliefs.

And as the people here were fond of saying of the city’s eccentricity—this was New York, after all.

“Hades?” Adam asked.

The woman’s eyes brightened. “You’re familiar?”

“Not really,” Adam said. “But I’ve heard. We all learn Greek myths in school right? Like Icarus, the Orpheus guy…” It has just been a unit in History, to be honest, learnt alongside other cultural tales from around the world. But the woman was alert now. “Something about a cave? Or was it a pit?”

The woman’s face did something complicated, a shadow, a shutter. It was gone as quickly as it came, but some of the hollowness remained in her eyes. “The pit...you mean Tartarus. That’s—well that’s part of the Greek underworld for sure, but not all of it. It’s hell.”

Adam hadn’t signed up for an impromptu Greek mythology lesson, but he guessed he was here now. “Sounds dark.”

The woman didn’t answer.

This was getting weird. Adam hurried on quickly. “Well, if this Tar place is hell, where’s the...heaven? Heaven equivalent? Like, where do the good guys go?”

“Elysium,” The woman said, looking grateful for the sudden change in subject. “The Elysian Fields.”

“The Elysian Fields,” Adam repeated. It had a ring to it, he had to admit. “Sounds—um, very peaceful.”

The woman simply smiled.

“You must really love your colleague if you’re willing to cover their extra shifts.It being Christmas season and your residency and all that. You must be busy already.”

Adam tried not to frown at the woman’s words. It wasn’t like she was wrong—Adam did love his colleagues, they had been through a lot together. Jack was a good friend, his best if he had to pick. But also, it was just one shift. That wasn’t a blood pact. That was a decent thing to do.

Adam played it off with a forced laugh. “Yeah. Basically family.”

Another moment of abrupt silence.

“That’s an important promise to keep,” the woman said. “Family.”

Okay, now Adam really was confused. He loved his friends like family, but it had been—in all practical ways—a throwaway line.

Sure, it was the most common vein of conversation he’d heard from dying patients, especially the elderly ones. Unsolicited pieces of advice. Family is everything, one man had told him last year, and Adam had grit his teeth and nodded, even though the word family had brought him the memory of his mother crying at him on the phone about his father’s new girlfriend. Young kids like you don’t know how much family means till you start losing then. Well, sometimes people didn’t have them in the first place. Never give up on family. Never. That was advice that only worked if everyone followed it. Often, it was just one person dragging them onto a capsized lifeboat. Adam had dismissed most of the well-meaning advice. It was advice for happy, loving homes, for happy, loving families. Blood and water.

But as much as the woman’s words rankled him, there was a hint of something else, a sort of understanding, in her words. He didn’t think she meant family as in blood. As in parents.

Adam swallowed down the bad feeling and said pleasantly, “I’ll do my best.”

“Sometimes the best isn’t enough.” For some reason, the woman’s eyes looked watery. Oh no. Oh no. Adam didn’t know how to approach this.

Luckily, the woman blinked her eyes and the tear was gone. A trick of the light.

“You will keep your promise,” the woman told him, with a sort of finality. “I know that.”

She offered him her hand. Adam hesitated only a moment before taking it. It was a cold and calloused hand, smelling faintly of eucalyptus oil.

“I don’t think I have much time left,” the woman admitted. “I’ve lived a long life. Longer than I ever thought I would get. I hope I’ve lived a good one.”

Adam didn’t trust himself to speak.

In a day full of weird, slightly off comments from the woman, these were probably the most normal words she’d spoken. Yet, they unwound him like nothing else till then had. Adam had sat with patients as they had died, had comforted them in their worst moments. He had grown used to the losses, the way you grew used to other unbearable things—you were alive, and so you bore them, because there was nothing else to do.

This felt different. All deaths were sad, but something in the woman’s touch was familiar. This felt less like sadness and more like quiet devastation. It was a tilting feeling. He had not known this woman for even an hour.

He tried to keep his tone light. “So, the aim is to make it to these Elysian Fields?”

“There’s another part of this Underworld I didn’t tell you about. Isles of the Blest,” she said. “Rebirth. I think...I’ll try thrice.”

Despite himself, Adam felt himself smiling. “Overachiever.”

The woman’s smile was worn out. “But not yet. I want to meet some people first. I want to see my husband. I’ve missed him. More than—more than I thought ever possible, and I thought every possibility, believe me. I want to see some old friends.”

The hollow, slow devastation persisted. It wasn’t unbearable, because nothing truly was, but it was a burning in his stomach. A dull ache. This was not the worst thing to happen to him, this old stranger’s death, but he could feel a weight press on him anyway, a weight like lead on his shoulders, a weight like lead in his stomach.

He wasn’t sure what else to say, but it turned out that was alright, because the next moment the door flung open. “Mom? Hey, I’m sorry we’re late. We got caught up—“

“Grandma!” A small blur of blond hair flew past him in their hurry to jump into the woman’s arms. She obliged for her part, a beaming smile on her face as she lifted her granddaughter into her lap.

“Don’t trouble Grandma,” a young lady wearing a work shirt said, coming to stand by the bed. She caught sight of Adam and gave him a small, kindly smile. “Oh, are you the new doctor?”

“Yes,” Adam replied. He got to his feet. It seemed his use as company was done. He turned to the old woman and tried to smile as genuinely as he could. “It was nice acquainting myself with you, ma’am. I’ll see you tomorrow on rounds. Have a lovely day with your family.”

“Thank you, Dr Tartal,” the woman said. Her grey eyes looked luminous as she smiled, crinkled with laugh lines. “It was nice to see you again.”

It was a jarring second in a day full of jarring seconds, but for one moment he held her gaze, and she looked—familiar. It was only a moment, right before her attention was grabbed by her granddaughter tugging on her shoulder as she began to narrate an incident from her school, but it was a buffering moment. The woman looked quite young caught in it, grey eyes and greying blonde hair that curled like a princess’s and a smile that ached with familiarity. It was gone with a shift of the light.

Adam shook it out of his mind, the weird sense of déjà vu of meeting her eyes, but he couldn’t shake off the way she seemed to have tripped over his name on its way out from her mouth. The way she seemingly swapped some other name for Dr Tartal at the last minute, a last chance at catching herself.

He couldn’t shake off the way she had said nice to see you. The way she seemed to have been unable to catch herself tacking on that “again” to the end of it.

——

Two weeks later

Adam saw it in Jack’s walk. He saw it in the way Dr Solanki hurried past them into the bathroom, eyes red.

It was a strange sort of grief, mourning for a stranger essentially, but regardless, it hit him like a freight train.

“Oh,” Adam said, as Jack met his eyes and gave him a desolate shake of his head. “Oh, God. Man, I’m so sorry—“

“Thank you.” Jack’s voice was heavy. He sighed and came to join Adam at the nurse’s station in front of the OR Board. His friend closed his eyes. “Everyone knew—“ Jack cleared his throat. “We knew there was a risk. She knew there was a risk when she agreed to the surgery. Eighty years, it was always—“ He shook his head. “I have to go tell the family.”

Adam nodded. “Of course.” He clasped Jack’s shoulder as his mind wandered to the small blonde girl who’d been hefted into her grandma’s lap. The sizable entourage of visitors who trailed into Room 114 day after day. The eyes of the old woman, intelligent and alert as she held his hand on the shift he’d covered for Jack, the one day he’d spoken to her. A single hour.

A single hour with her had apparently been enough to make a mark on him.

Adam watched as Jack made the slow, lonely walk to the waiting room. Then he sighed, closed his eyes for a quick moment and went back to his chart. He had paperwork to finish, three patients left on his rounds to visit, and then the clinic. It was going to be a long day.

Thirty minutes later, he was well into his second pile of paperwork when there was a slight shuffle of feet. Adam looked up.

A young girl, maybe fifteen, sixteen, stood still in front of the OR board, electric blue eyes scanning the names. She had a silver jacket on, accessorised with buttons for bands that had lost relevance in Adam’s father’s time, bands that were now only listened to by edgy teenagers rediscovering “real” music and nostalgic old folks with YouTube accounts. Her hair was spiky, streaked blue and white.

The girl tore her eyes away from the OR board just as Adam opened his mouth to ask her if she was alright. She looked taken aback for a moment.

“Can I help you?” Adam asked.

“I’m Thalia Grace,” the girl said after a pause. “I’m looking for a woman in Room, uh—“ she put her hand in her pocket to pull out a hastily scribbled note. “Room 114? She had surgery today—“

“Oh.” Adam put his pen down. He could feel his chest constricting. Was this another granddaughter? “Oh. Um, Thalia—Thalia was it?—are your parents around? You may want to sit down fo this.”

“Oh gods,” Thalia said. “Oh gods, did—the surgery didn’t go well, did it?”

Adam didn’t have the details. “Look, I will be back with someone to explain it for you—“

“No, that’s—that’s fine, that’s…” Thalia looked like she’d been hit. “Are you sure it’s the patient in Room 114, her name—“

“Annabeth Chase passed away earlier this morning, I’m afraid,” Adam said. “There were complications in her surgery.”

Thalia seemed to wilt like a flower. No—not wilt. Sink.

“Let me get you to a place you can sit,” Adam said, moving to guide her to the waiting room. “Is there anything I can do for you? A glass of water? Can I call somebody for you?”

The girl shook her head, moving away. “No. No, it’s…” She blinked and looked up at him. “Time is weird,” she said, sounding much older than a teenager. “Time is weird. I always think I have so much more time than I do. I didn’t think—I didn’t think it would happen today.” She swallowed. She looked stunned. “It doesn’t—it doesn’t really ever get easier.”

Adam could understand very little of what the girl was saying, but he nodded anyway. “Okay. Alright.”

The girl was shaking like a leaf. Adam watched her for a few seconds before realising he had to get someone—preferably Dr Solanki or Jack—to talk to this girl about Mrs Chase. No, Mrs Jackson-Chase. That was what had been on her chart.

Eventually though, the girl stopped trembling. She looked at her feet for a long, long time before her head snapped up and found his eyes. It was a thousand yard stare. It went through him. It went through him and then all of a sudden, it was no longer going through him, but was instead very, very intense.

More staring. More silence.

Adam wasn’t wholly unused to the staring. He didn’t even mind it all that much now, to be honest, even though he hadn’t been a fan of it in middle school. He had unique eyes—pretty, his mother often had said. Heterochromia, a strange yet alluring variant which gave him one eye blue and one eye a hazel that looked gold in the right light. There wasn’t anything more interesting about his face apart from that; he looked like your average twenty-something year old, with his sandy blond hair and easy smile. The only other thing uncanny about his appearance was the odd birthmark that stretched out under his right eye—a dark jagged mark, somewhat a line. But it wasn’t very noticeable unless you knew to look for it.

“Everything alright?” Adam asked.

“Yeah,” Thalia said. She didn’t shift her gaze away. “Yeah—you just...you just remind me of an old friend, that’s all.”

[loquaciousquark]

I hope you're doing well! I know you posted about a stressful situation last month, and I hope it's resolved itself. Sending good wishes you you and Hamlet!

Thank you so very much for checking in on me! I really do appreciate it. An update to that post under the cut.

Carol, who moved in with me on May 28, is still here. Right now, we have set a tentative move-out goal of the first or second week of August, but this is pending an apartment application that she hopes to finalize on Monday and a job situation that is a complete mess.

Basically, according to my limited understanding, Carol is licensed to teach in Florida. Alabama has a reciprocity clause with Florida, but it must be applied for. Carol has recently begun this process, but her teaching license(s?) is (are?) set to expire in December unless she passes certain exams. She’s already passed one for...general middle and high school teaching, I think, but failed a math exam. She has an art history exam Monday afternoon and expects to pass. I hope so, because she’s been doing nothing but watching Netflix and shopping for houses for the last few days in her new 2017 Jeep Cherokee.

I remain unspeakably grateful to my parents for teaching me financial literacy, because until I witnessed Carol’s decision-making, I had no idea how hard it was for some people to not spend money unwisely. 

As a reminder, Carol is dead broke. She has $153,000 in debt across student loans, medical bills, Czech and US taxes, and some personal loans she would like to repay to friends for helping her. She is unemployed and has no support from her family and has relied on couch surfing at friends’ and acquaintances’ homes since last summer for housing. Since moving in with me, she has been trying to find somewhere to live that would accept her with all her debt and her nonexistent US employment history for the last ten years. Based on what she’s said, I think she has about $9k in the bank--or did, until last week.

In short, she needs a car, a job, and a home, and as far as I can tell she doesn’t care which order they come in.

Two weeks ago, she was offered a position in a rural town about 30 minutes from where I live. It’s a small, very country town which desperately needs a special education teacher, something I think Carol really does have a passion for. However, because she hasn’t finished the reciprocity licensure application yet, they’re having a lot of roadblocks with her paperwork, compounded by the fact that when she left Prague last year, she left all her important documentation behind: things like her birth certificate, her social security card, and her letters of recommendation, which for some reason she did not have electronic backups of. The principal has been trying to get what she needs from Carol for two weeks. Carol is constantly saying that things are “in process” but has nothing to show for it.

As far as we can tell, the job is still hers, but the school year starts August 13th and she still hasn’t been approved by the Board of Education because the paperwork is still not finished on her end. She did not attempt to replace her birth certificate or social security card until they needed it for the application. (Her friend in Prague--and I am beginning to realize she uses the word “friend” for anyone she’s met longer than sixty seconds), who frantically packed up all her belongings when she realized she would not be able to go back to the city, cannot ship her belongings or go through them for the important paperwork until next summer, as she and her husband are currently vacationing in Rome for a year.

Carol decided last night she is also going to apply for some online Department of Defense position--I didn’t understand the details and don’t really want to know, except that it’s also teaching and some administration. We’ll see how it works out. She is growing increasingly annoyed at the principal’s requests for paperwork completion, which baffles me.

So, job: shrug? Maybe?

Car next, then, but this whole mess also goes back to the financial literacy thing. My parents have always been extremely frugal (pennywise, as my dad would say), and from childhood they made it very clear to us to not buy things you couldn’t afford. They’ve never had a car payment in my memory, and they paid off their house about ten years ago. This means they drove a lot of junkers for a very long time, and for a very long time we had very few vacations, but now they’re fully financially stable and debt-free and my mom has a car that she drove off the lot brand new that they paid cash in hand for. 

If I had been in Carol’s situation, I would have found a cheap, mostly reliable used car that probably wasn’t going to explode on me and drive that as long as I could while saving up for housing. I did in fact drive her to look at several used cars, most of which would have been even outside my expected budget (hers, as it happens, is larger even than that, because one of her overseas friends was willing to contribute $5000 to the cost of a vehicle). (I paid $6500 for my current car, a 2004, in college in 2012 with 70,000 miles on it at the time, and have driven it ever since.)

She rejected all of them because they did not have good “energy” and “feelings.” One she was willing to buy at $3700, but told the seller to go pay for his own inspection (once I explained to her what mechanical inspections were as a concept), so they ghosted her. She also is extremely afraid of head gasket failure--I don’t know why, since she knows nothing about cars--and has assumed all vehicles she has driven are on the verge of it, so after the first week she refused to even look at a vehicle without a warranty.

This means she exclusively limited herself to used dealership options, which I’m just going to come right out and say was monumentally stupid. I don’t know if any car dealers follow me, so I’m sorry if I am misperceiving this, but in my experience almost every dealer I’ve gone to has been aggressive, manipulative, and extremely predatory in their interest rates. I cannot think of a riskier course of action in abject debt than to try to cut a deal with a car dealer for the sake of a warranty I doubt will cover that much truly expensive failure in the long run anyway.

On Thursday, Carol bought a $20,000 2017 Jeep Cherokee from a dealership down the road. I don’t know what she put down. I do know she did not use her friend’s money (why not??) and I know her interest rate on the car loan is 4%, which she is extremely proud of and which horrifies me. She also “persuaded” them into a limited warranty that will cover the vehicle up to 100,000 miles (currently at 42k, and they ~only offer it for cars under 40,000 miles~). I can’t tell you how bad an idea I think all this is.

Thursday night, as she was regaling me with stories of her negotiating prowess, she also tells me she has decided to buy a house. She’s sick of renting, and somehow, someone somewhere managed to get her approved for up to $120,000 in a home loan. She already has $150k in debt, another $20k from the car, and now wants to buy a house. She was delighted that she could make the minimum 7% down payment, even though it would wipe out every cent she has left and leave her less than $500 to her name for moving expenses, utilities, food, title registration, etc. afterwards.

She doesn’t even have a secure job yet.

However, this plan seems to have fallen through. She went out with a realtor several times this weekend and came home the last time in great, heaving sobs, because she can’t find the 3bed 2bath she wanted in her price range. (For reference, most homes in this area go between 200k - 250k right now for 2-3bed 2ba, and the closer you get to the city--I have about a 20 minute commute--the higher it gets. My next door neighbor sold her 3bed 2.5ba for >300k three months ago, and Carol knew this.) She was absolutely devastated that the only things in her range were “tiny little ugly flipped houses” and “the ghetto.” The realtor basically said she wasn’t going to waste any more of her time. Carol repeatedly told me how grateful I should be that I got in at the price point I did a few years back, because no “normal people” could ever afford to break into the market again.

I tried to tell her that it was because I lived in with a roommate in very cheap housing and then a cell of a 1bed 1ba apartment for eight years while I saved money, but if nothing else, I’ve learned I’m not allowed to compare our situations or histories or offer advice of any kind except “go ahead and buy what you want,” because that only makes her cry harder. In the end, she has decided to give up on the house for now and settle for the absolute last thing in the world she wanted, an apartment with a lease.

To be honest, until she has a signed contract in hand, I half-expect this lease to fall through as well. I have tried to offer what I think is sensible advice and been ignored or rebuffed. I have tried to offer a sympathetic ear and ended up with her sobbing uncontrollably on me--heaving, body-wracking sobs--over and over again with me trapped in my own home, providing endless emotional support for a girl I don’t even like. I have tried to encourage her to do the things she wants to do, since she’s going to do them anyway, and when she gets “negative energy” after the purchases (buyer’s remorse, I think, that one little inkling of sense saying maybe it wasn’t a great idea to buy a $20,000 car or an $1100 brand new iPhone without a job), she blames it on the exact thing I said I thought might be good and makes me feel like I have now directly contributed to a negative outcome after poor decision-making.

For the record, when she says these things to me she is not saying, and has never said, them directly at me. She has never blamed me in any way for a negative outcome. She is not consciously trying to manipulate me or abuse me or take advantage of my help. She has never once asked me for money or job connections or for me to use any of my stability to unfairly or unethically get her something she needs. She is just completely absorbed in her own (rightfully absorbing) mess of a situation, and I think just completely unaware of how much of an emotional black hole she has become. There are no problems except her problems. There are no needs except her needs, and everyone around her has to understand how hard she has it at all times. 

So, we’ll see. I am praying that the apartment works out next week. The owner seems to want to work with her, which is a hopeful sign. Good thoughts would be appreciated.

--

Aside from all of this, work has gotten extremely complicated. I’m not going to go into all of it now, but one of my jobs is to create an extremely detailed schedule for students in clinic. This is used to schedule patients in each service--if we have this many students, we can have this many patient slots per half-day, etc. Last week, two students were out unexpectedly, one who broke her arm the day before she was supposed to begin, and one who had a terrible anxiety attack and thought the symptoms were actually COVID. That student was tested and cleared negative, but Student Health requires a two-week quarantine anyway, so she was not allowed to return.

This meant that we now had multiple patients per day with no one to see them. We tried to reschedule as many as we could, but we still ended up with multiple overbooks. This is extremely stressful for me as both a provider, an instructor, and a human being who hates having other people wait on her in a professional capacity. We got through the week, but not without several painful bumps, and it’s looking like there will be more soon.

I also woke up to an email this morning that one of my favorite students (yes, I have favorites, I’m sorry), had a completely unexpected death in the immediate family and had to rush home. This is a very, very sweet, very smart girl who has worked unbelievably hard over the past year to do well in this program and in my courses, and I am just devastated for her. One of her friends is willing to cover her clinic, so the impact will be minimal on that side, but to have this happen during this country’s hellhole handling of this pandemic...I can’t even imagine it.

All of this isn’t even touching COVID. The President’s side has won in that sense--I don’t even register the numbers anymore--but as of last week our dean sent out messaging that implied that with our state’s failure to contain the spread, new discussions were going to be happening soon regarding our August start. We already had committed to full hybrid scheduling: all lectures online, in-person labs only where absolutely necessary to continue advancement in the program, and those labs limited to two per room with full PPE, but if they decide even that can’t happen, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. I cannot make competent doctors over Zoom. I can’t. At some point they have to touch other people and look at other people’s eyes. They have to be able to check real, in-person blood pressure. They have to look at genuine eye movements and ocular surfaces in person and I cannot and will not let them enter clinic until they have the practice and the time and the practicals behind them. I fucking refuse to endanger the public for sixty years because someone in an office somewhere decided a timetable is more important than a patient keeping their ability to see, and I’m ready to fight administration on this if they try to push it.

But if I win the fight, what next? They just...don’t enter clinic next year. They don’t enter my program. I don’t know what they do in the meantime, as this lab meets four mornings a week and the lecture twice. The course is delayed until next year or whenever we have the virus under control again, and suddenly my fall semester sure looks like I’ll be being paid to stay at home and count carpet fibers. I don’t think they’ll fire me--no one else wants to teach my course anyway--but if I win this fight I might put myself right into furlough in the process.

I could be borrowing trouble, I know. They could come back and say that after review, our system and safety protocols (all extremely conservative) are indeed safe enough and we can proceed as we want. They could say that our limited in-person option for lectures (we have several gigantic lecture halls that could easily socially distance) is the only thing that needs to go. They could say that we just need to have smaller lab groups--hellish on me, but doable.

But it’s one more element of stress in my life that I just can’t handle worrying about right now, which is why I’ve been bouncing back and forth between random fics and oneshots (that mermaid one was feverishly written on a single evening Carol spent at her mom’s house) and pouring an ungodly amount of hours into Animal Crossing. At least there I have some control over what happens next.

Sorry, guys. I know this is not the happy update I was hoping for. I’ll try to check in again next month and we’ll see where things end up.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

06. The Fall Festival

3550 Words, No trigger warnings that I can think of. 

Previous

Grace got ready for the dance with her mother. She wanted her to look like “the belle of the ball” and though Grace thought the gown was a bit much, her mother had always been extra when it came to extravagance, and she learned her lesson about trying to step in with her own opinions on how she should look. Mrs. Monroe had Grace looking like a Disney princess. She hired a professional makeup artist (EVEN THOUGH they both had years of experience Grace from dance recitals, her mother being a beauty queen and socialite). 

After her hair debacle on the train a couple of years prior, a world famous stylist for natural Afrocentric hair had been Grace's beautician. She helped her to grow her hair back, twisted it into locs and was always keeping her stylish with the hottest natural looks.

Mrs. Monroe hovered and fussed over her like she couldn’t get ready by herself, the moment all of the professionals had gone to wait for her final presentation downstairs. Grace wasn't used to that. Her mother never had time for her and even when she was expected to look her best, Mom usually didn't get involved. Grace longed for this and relished in it. She couldn't complain, even though it was stifling.

Whenever Simon came up the fire escape, Grace panicked. Her parents DID NOT know about him doing so, and she was ready to have a complete shutdown seeing him appear in the window while her mom was putting butterfly embellishments in her up-do. Simon froze, and thought about jumping off of the stairway when he saw Mrs. Monroe in there, but once the woman looked at him and smiled, he relaxed and stepped inside. “Hi, Mrs. Monroe. I’m Simon, Grace’s frie-”

“Grace has a school dance tonight, Simon,” she said, not interested in introducing herself. “I’m sure after all of this; she’ll explain to me why her fire escape is open and why a boy is using it for anything but a fire.”

“Simon is my escort, Mom,” Grace said in a voice so small that Simon didn’t even recognize it and could barely hear her. She had NEVER been this quiet in all of the years that he had known her. It was alarming, actually, but within a moment, he realized why.

Her mother stuck another butterfly into her hair, with a hard jab and Grace winced when the pin stuck her in the scalp. “I see,” the woman said.

The pageant smile that she had initially given Simon in her confusion was gone and now, a stone like grimace was there, pointed right at Grace with no warmth or emotion. “Stand.” She commanded, and Grace did so, with military-like precision. The woman led her next to Simon and stood her at his side, took a step back to assess them, then flared her nostrils and raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“But, Mom…” Grace said in that same tiny voice, this time pleading. A single look from the woman silenced her.

“Grace, I did not pay thousands of dollars to make you perfect tonight for you to ruin the entire aesthetic with this shaggy boy in a shabby suit that looks like it costs less than your earrings. I’m sure he’s nice, but do we want nice things for you, Grace?”

“No.”

“What do we want for you, Grace?”

“The best,” she said.

“Alright. Now, I’ll give you a moment to say goodnight and LOCK your fire escape, then hurry down for the pre-dance photo shoot.” Grace’s eyes welled with tears as she looked down at her hands, clasping her dress anxiously. Her mother lifted her chin with her fingertips and said in a sweet voice, but through clenched teeth, “Don’t you dare cry and ruin this makeup job, and let. Go. of. That. Dress!” When she said dress, she jerked away one of Grace’s hands with her free hand and Grace’s other hand quickly followed.

Then, Grace whimpered in her tiniest voice yet, “He’s my best friend.”

Her mother looked at her with a mixture of pity and exasperation and shook her head, “We can discuss that another time.”

Grace took a deep breath and almost magically forced away the tears trying to form in her eyes. Simon was horrified by how frightened the woman made her. What would she do to her if she told her to piss off? He wasn’t going to find out tonight, because Grace stepped in line and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Simon.” She was using that voice that she used with people whenever she was just telling them what they wanted to hear. That was a voice she used with non-essentials, not with him... “I still want to do the whole pumpkin patch thing tomorrow, if you don’t hate me for wasting your time tonight? Maybe my parents will give you money for the train ride home.”

“I’m not going home! My suit may be shabby, but it was the best that I could do and I tried really hard to look nice for you tonight!” His voice was louder than he meant it to be and he knew that her mother could probably hear him, but he had just witnessed the worst thing to happen to him in months (which was already saying a lot) and he just didn’t understand this version of Grace that he had seen tonight.

She smiled, sadly and touched his cheek, “You DO look nice. I love it. I love that you remembered the colors for your accents, and it's very obvious to someone like me, who knows your type of fashion, that you did put a lot of work into this look. But, what I'm telling you is that there is no way that my mother is going to let you get into the car with me and head to the dance, now. I didn’t expect her to be here! But, apparently my first school dance was an event she couldn’t miss, despite missing several other things that I thought should have been pretty dang important...” She dropped her hand and sighed, “I really wanted to go with you tonight, but it can’t happen now. She made that clear to me. I’m sorry, Simon.”

She looked like she might cry again, but she quickly sucked it up and put on a smile. “We can go downstairs together. You don’t have to take the fire escape…”

“What do they do to you? What do they do to you to make you like this? What could they possibly do for you to treat me this way?” He asked, practically pleading.

“They work hard to make sure that I have the best. It’s my responsibility to be my best for them, and they… they… know what’s best.”

“You don’t believe that, Grace! They’re one of the main reasons that we don’t trust adults!”

“Even if I don’t trust them… I have to do what they say! What else can I do? They’re not gonna just leave me alone and let me live my life. Maybe one day, Simon. Just not tonight… Not now...” Simon had tears in his eyes, but Grace was definitely disassociating.

She had to be strong, because she had to present herself to her parents, the pros who put together her look, and the photographer. She had to be perfect whenever she made her entrance. “Goodnight, Simon.” She gave him a playful tap on the cheek, strummed his face with her thumb and left him in the room alone. Simon covered his nose and mouth with both hands and started to cry.

.

The time it took Grace to smile through the photo shoot pretending that she hadn't just sliced her heart into pieces and fed them to her mother, to get the dress safely into the car, and the drive to the dance… Simon had already made it there. The school was closer to Grace's house than his house was, so he just walked. Anger and resentment fueled his pace.

When he arrived, he went to the bathroom to freshen up and get himself together. He slid into the stall with his jacket off, rolled up his sleeve and looked at his arm for a while. He drifted into a daydream.

They were 10, she was in her ballet garb and he was in his vest, shorts, socks and sandals… she was gonna "teach him a few moves," though he couldn't remember why. All he ever remembered about that day was that he couldn’t focus on a single thing that she said to him because she was standing close enough for him to be more concerned about focusing on her features and whenever she was standing behind him, trying to help him get into position, her hands were on his person and she smelled like fruit and flowers. She usually smelled of nice, expensive products and fruit scented lip gloss, but there was something else that he wasn’t as familiar with, though it was very nice. He found out later it was mango butter. She lathered herself in the stuff to moisturize. She didn’t teach him ANYTHING that day but that he wasn’t really into doing ballet, and that she was the prettiest girl that he knew. Always would be. Tonight, they were supposed to dance together again. This time, in front of people. This time… Maybe it wouldn't just be a huge failure, he thought. But, it failed before they ever even made it there. You're never going to be good enough for her.

Simon pulled down his sleeve, put his jacket back on, "You're just as good as anybody else! You're better than most of the people you've ever known!" He hissed, straightening himself out in the mirror.

Then, he went out to get some punch. There was a table of fountains with various fondues and drinks. He remembered that this was his first dance at the academy and that his former jr high bashes would pale in comparison. Everything was SO formal. It reminded him of photos of his parents at a military ball whenever they were first dating… but then add like a million dollars of decorations and stuff.

Whenever he thought about money, his mind went back to Mrs. Monroe's cold features and empty smile. The way she tore him down like he was a null and Grace just LET her.

If his parents ever so much as cut her an ugly look, he'd bludgeon them. She couldn't even tell her mother "no," for him? She'd been so beautiful in that yellow dress, with her goddess locs pulled up and twisted into a cascading bang, a halo crown and sparkling butterflies with jade jewelry and light green and gold accents in her dress, makeup, and hair. Simon didn't even know wtf chartreuse was until he had to try to find "accents" for his suit. He found a tie, a pocket square and socks! He shined his shoes, like he'd seen his father do. He watched videos to learn to tie the tie and fold the square. He'd exfoliated his skin and gelled his stray hairs to try to keep his ponytail neat!

He was sulking into another cup of punch when somebody said, "Is that Grace Monroe?" He turned and the kids made way for her. Her driver helped fix her dress for her entry. She had that fake ass smile plastered on her face, but the moment she saw Simon, it faded. Then, her real smile quickly appeared and she shuffled over to him. "You still came!" She cheered. Everyone else immediately didn't matter to her, but Simon wasn't smoothed over. He was still very much hurt.

"Your mom can control you, not me," he grunted. She put her hand on his shoulder and he looked at it before flicking it off with a harsh brush of his hand. "We're not here together, remember?"

"Obviously, I remember. But, we're still friends… Right?" She stared at the top of his head as he stared into the cup of punch. It was good. Tasted like pineapples and cream with some spritz to it… but it didn't taste good enough to help him avoid this questioning. It'd have to do for now, because there was no way he dared look up to see how she might be looking at him. The feel of her eyes upon him was heavy enough. "What can I do?" She asked in a small voice.

He glanced at her, looking down at her hands and clutching her dress. He sighed and shifted his eyesight to look at the others in the room with them, having fun without a care in the world. Meanwhile, here they were… both obviously miserable. "Nothing," he finally answered, though he didn't look at her again. "You're clearly a powerless kid, just like me. We thought we were so tough because we could win some fights with nulls and really, we're the worthless ones. Your mom proved that tonight. She could care less about specks like us. These kids treat me like I'm something they stepped in, and I can't do anything about it, because my parents can't toss money at administration if I mess up. But, if I get kicked out, my chances of being successful will decrease three quarters. I'll never be rich and powerful, no matter the fact that I deserve it. I deserve it more than anybody else in this room of fakes and flunkies! I'm smart. I'm strong. I'm fearless. I'm tactical. I deserve respect. I deserve the best, too, Grace."

"You do."

"Then why didn't you have my back!?" Now, he looked at her. He deserved an answer.

"Because… I'm… not... those things. I'm not that smart. I just know how to talk to people. I'm… not that strong. I'm just agile and can dodge a lot of danger. And, I think you saw for yourself that I'm not fearless. I'm terrified of my parents seeing any of that. Everything that I'm not. They'll lose the little bit of love that they have got for me and I can't stand to risk it. I guess I just thought that you wouldn't. That... you could take one night of my cowardice and still love me. I was wrong to expect that. You deserve better, but I'm not someone who can give you that. You were always gonna eventually do great things. I was always gonna skate by on my family name." She wiped her eye and looked at her glove to see a little makeup. "I'll leave you alone now…" She was going to go cry over this. Very uglyish and loudish… but Simon caught her wrist.

They looked at each other. Her eyes were asking him why he stopped her when she was giving him his way out, but he knew as well as she should have.. she was absolutely right. He'd love her through anything. He just wasn't going to say that. "We're supposed to open the waltz," he said. His gray eyes were soft on her and she sighed with relief and hurled herself into him for a hug. He held her. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Your mom's a monster. And she's got a ton of money. I've never seen you be afraid of anybody else and I shouldn't have attacked you about it." She was now fully crying on his shoulder. "Apex never dies."

She smiled and nodded, "We're on this wild train for life." She stood up straight and they stared at each other. Did… did she see Simon blushing? She touched his chin much like Simon had seen her mother touch hers, which momentarily gave him a little nervousness, but she said, "You know, Socks & Sandals… this outfit really makes your eyes POP! Have… have they always been green?"

"My eyes are gray," he said, blushing even more, but also looking offended.

"Thank goodness! That's what I thought they were before now…" she kept staring though. "They're prettier than I remember. Did you do something?"

"Like eye reconstruction or shapeshifting?" He asked sarcastically. She laughed and he smirked. Then, they made their way to the dance floor. Grace was in his arms most of the night. They took photos together, with "friends," and at the booth, and before dismissal, they ducked out to ditch her driver and jump on the train to head into the city.

Grace peeked into her clutch for her mask and saw several valuables that she knew weren't hers. "Simon… what is all this?" She pulled out watches and jewelry to get to her mask.

"That's stuff I found on assholes at the dance."

She looked at him a moment, like she was judging him; then they both laughed. "Please tell me that at least ONE of these items came from Shana!" He smirked and shuffled through his haul to show her a set of keys with a plushie keychain. "Are these her car keys???"

"Looks like those are all her keys. But the keychain is fruit with a face! We love fruit with a face!" Whenever they got off of the train, Simon removed the keychain and threw the keys to the wheels. He didn't have an issue with Shana, but she had made Grace her rival since the recital years ago, so that meant she was Simon's enemy… and tonight, she'd be stuck at the dance.

"It just occurred to me that a mask won't do much when the rest of me looks like this," Grace said, laughing.

"It JUST occurred to you that a face mask wouldn't hide your very conspicuous ballroom gown?"

"Shut up!" She laughed and held his hand as they ran out of the train station. Both of them stuck their tongues out and flipped the surveillance camera the bird as they did.

She didn’t want to go home. They had been going around the city for hours and she was certain that unlike when she was 10, her parents could care less if she was home, so long as she didn’t embarrass them while she was out there.

So, she and Simon waltzed at the creek in the moonlight, unintentionally inventing inside jokes, lounged around the closed mall, stole some skateboards from someone’s yard and went skateboarding at the boardwalk. Grace was much better at it than Simon, despite the fact that she had never tried before and was wearing a lengthy gown. Simon vowed that he was going to get better than her.

They made their way back to her house and Simon tampered with the lock on the fire escape to let her in. Whenever he successfully broke in she gasped and he said, “You owe me 20 dollars.”

“I did bet you 20 dollars that you couldn’t possibly break into my home…” she said.

“Yep.” He held out his hand and she put his stolen valuables in it. “This was already mine, whenever I took it.”

“Yeah, but I’m taking the 20 I owe you out of it, for having held onto your loot.”

He groaned and stuffed his pockets. “If we’d been searched or something, they would presume that stuff was somehow all yours. Me? Obvious criminal.”

“You pickpocketed like a dozen people at a school dance and just broke into my window. You are a criminal.”

“So? That doesn’t mean that they have a right to suspect me as one!” She laughed and opened the window to climb inside.

Whenever she was on the other side, she turned and smiled at Simon. “Thanks for getting me home safely, Gray Eyes.”

He blushed and she definitely could see it, even in the moonlight. “Of course. Apex sticks together.” He reached out to give her a fist bump, but she rested her hand on his fist, shut her eyes, leaned forward, puckering her lips… like she was going to… going to kiss him. It happened really quickly, so he couldn’t prepare himself properly. It landed on the corner of his mouth and he didn’t know if she meant for it to be there, on his cheek, or directly on his lips. But, he turned slightly for their lips to touch and she gave those a second kiss, then a third. Small pecks, but two on the lips and the first extremely close to them was still... a lot.

They looked at each other a moment, realized that they were holding hands now and pulled them back. “Well, that was a perfectly normal friendship kiss,” Simon said.

“Very platonic affection,” she added, fighting a smile. “We still on for the pumpkin patch tomorrow?”

He nodded and smiled as he went down the stairs and she locked up after him, then watched him skateboard away on the board he had. Gray Eyes… That had to be his favorite nickname that she’d ever randomly given him.

Grace looked down at her frazzled dress, filthy at the seam and torn and dirty in other places. She looked in the mirror, traced her fingertips across her lips that she had just so BOLDY used to kiss Simon and she laughed, climbing into bed to go to sleep without a shower or anything. He had kissed her back. She giggled about it. She giggled herself to sleep...

Next

[anyu-blue]

Been getting whiplash lately

So recently there's been a surge of Blue's clues merch at our local supermarket. Not all that strange I suppose, but with going through my trauma in therapy there's stuff I recall which the show is tied to.

Part of the whiplash is I have known about Blue's new owner for a while (though I don't recall his name, but I know his face)... While neither of my sisters did until last week. They had no clue.

Something so explicitly tied to my childhood and... Psyche... Completely overlooked by those I've grown up with- lending credence to the fact that this same show was and is NOT a big part of theirs- not linked like mine is.

Lol not a bad thing at all... But another part is the.. dare I say painful realization I never got to be a kid. I mean I knew.. but like... Just how badly we were abused and hurt still keeps boggling my mind the more and more I go back and dig into it... I have many more painful things left to uncover. I can feel it... But this one... I never realized JUST how painful it was and is.

Blue's clues was something.. I loved. Adored. So much. Yet I never, NEVER received a single gift in relation to her or the show that wasn't destroyed or taken away so soon after I got it by my mother (I'm not even sure there WERE any at all because I don't remember any, but there must have been at some point- I do have enormous gaps in my memory). The show itself was always taken away or shut off and I was punished for trying to enjoy it- and dare I say for enjoying it the older I got. 'it's for four year olds!' they'd say... Even Tevie.

Every Saturday.. I would try my hardest to sneak Saturday morning cartoons... Because we weren't supposed to watch them (or any TV at all... at the very very least without permission- and that was on a good day).. many many many mornings I turned the TV down as low as I could where I could still hear it and I would try to watch it. It was always on at the same time as Power Rangers- my eldest sister's show of choice so there were many times we would fight and get into trouble. I just wanted the small comfort that show brought me... And I imagine my sister wanted the same of hers.

We got grounded so many times... So much trouble for that one show each of ours. It's all we wanted. All we talked about. (Me Blue, Tevie Powerangers).

I found so much comfort when I could watch it... I don't know why exactly... But I feel I would still feel it if I tried to watch it now... You know, alongside the overwhelming guilt of attempting to watch children's programming 😅 especially directed at children so young.

It's a whiplash feeling in of itself... And I find myself arguing with myself....

Do.. do I want to watch Blue's clues? I'm going to be 27 in one week exactly... Why do I?

Well.. I know why. I loved it so much. Every glimpse I got growing up- as a toddler, as a kid, as a preteen, as a teenager, and even the very small bits as an adult.. oh how I would get sucked in.. how it would put my siblings to sleep every time I watched them and I just... Stared at the TV. Watching it. Enjoying it. Pretending it was for the youngest- whomever it was at the time.

...

Okay... So I want to. But the guilt. Children's programming. No children of my own. More than Old enough to have children of my own!! 😱

...

It might seem a silly question.. especially because I know the answer.. and I don't want anyone to say it to me because of my pride 😅.. but...

Can. Can I watch Blue's Clues? SHOULD I?

... the adult in me is asking.. will it heal something in me? Will.. will it help me if I do? To finally.. consume the media I was always deprived of?

Can.. can I... Use my $10 end of month allowance to buy myself a... A Blue plushy/stuffie to help me sleep?

The child in me- the one so squashed and hurt and lonely... Really, really badly wants that... Even if the adult me knows it's just media and buying things is not my forte Because of my anxieties surrounding money and wastefulness. Even if the adult me knows just how childish and cringe these thoughts and desires are. How everyone could look down on me....

I'm nearly 27... Can I like Blue's clues?

And yet.. whiplashed back again... My aunt.. had/has an obsession with Tigger. Her youngest sister with Dolphins (her husband with Wolves). My adoptive mom.. with care bears. My dad with Dragons. Tevie... With Disney's Elsa. My GRANDMOTHER with... Pooh. 😵 And I mean OBSESSION. Walls and shelves and more PLASTERED with figures and toys and.. and.. I'm the only one without... I have my Transformers, but a part of my knows I only do because they're slightly socially acceptable for a 26/27 nonbinary like myself... And they're all in a big box because I'm too scared to display or pull them out.

There's something.. Something so broken in me.. so hurt and lost and scared...

If I let myself do this... Will.. will it help to bring it back? Make it warm? Help me heal?

There's so much pain there... The sudden rejection and fear of being caught when the tv was suddenly shut off mid-episode. The..

OMFG

I just remembered.

I always thought I didn't have it as bad as others and felt so ashamed for feeling like I was abused the older I got when our mother told us she always did her best and never abused us like her mother did to her and.. and...

I WAS hit... Omg... I. Forgot.

I mean I know why I forgot. I know why I was slapped and bruised and hurt. My hair pulled and my...

We'll just say 'and more'

...

If.. I get myself a Blue Plushy to hold onto... And maybe bring myself to watch some episodes... Can I make it go away? The fear.. the anxiety? Can I finally know I'm okay? ... Will it help to finally enjoy what I desperately wanted to as a child? My one comfort I sacrificed so much for?

Whiplash... Back and forth... I don't know what to do.. what is the right decision.. will it cost me more in the long run (friends, family, $, Respect) to give in? Or will I cost myself my sanity by knowing everyone else has their interests I do not judge them for while fearing judgment for mine?

[redshiftsinger]

The most aggravating thing about the radfem anti-makeup discourse, on a personal level?  That whole “don’t buy in to patriarchal beauty standards, resist conforming at all costs” attitude was almost identical to my mom’s reasoning behind not allowing me to do the fun shiny stuff I wanted to do. She thought she was “protecting” me from getting brainwashed into thinking that I had to be pretty to be worthwhile, but what ended up happening in reality was that I learned that I don’t deserve to own things that make me happy because they’re “wasteful”, and that I should be afraid of attracting ANY attention whatsoever, because all things bright, gaudy, attention-grabbing... I couldn’t have them, because drawing attention meant drawing negative judgment, in my mother’s social-anxiety-warped mind, and anything that went even a little bit beyond the bare minimum to serve functionally while avoiding looking so ugly as to be attention-drawingly so, was “wasteful”. And yes, I had experiences of growing up poor, but the real poverty hit when I was in high school, when my dad left and my mom lost her job within the same year. I’m talking here about stuff that was a well-established dynamic even when we were comfortably middle-class (my private-elementary-school life) and there was room in the budget for things like a burgundy leather four-piece living room set, a new car (not new-used, I mean an actual new car that no one else had ever owned) and occasional weeklong vacations to the coast. When my parents got me a kiddie passport because they genuinely anticipated being able to take an international family vacation soon enough for that to seem like a practical thing to get out of the way ahead of time.  Even for special occasions, where it would have been entirely socially appropriate for a kid to wear a glittery dress, I learned fast to always include an option in my clothing picks on the shopping trip that my mom would actually have a chance of approving, lest I be forced to wear something I hated. My opinions were taken into account JUST enough to give the illusion that I was truly being permitted choice. Just enough that most of the time, I could look in the mirror and not completely hate the reflection of someone else’s dress-up doll.  And contrary to maybe most AFAB folks’ experiences with similar dynamics of being forced to wear stuff that doesn’t really suit their personality... I wasn’t being forced into hyper-femininity. I was being pushed AWAY from it. Sure, there were Events where I was expected to wear a dress -- no hardship for me, I liked dresses just fine, I still do. But I wasn’t allowed makeup until I needed it for stage performance reasons (at which point I got to own one eyeliner, one blush, one mascara, and one eyeshadow quad. I still wasn’t allowed black mascara or eyeliner, just browns, because something something my mom’s assumptions about how complexions work and me being a brunette... YES I know that’s not ideal stage makeup don’t @ me, my mom wouldn’t fucking listen). I wasn’t allowed much in the way of jewelry -- I had a few small, subdued necklace pendants, but I wasn’t even allowed to get my ears pierced until middle school, and my earring options were heavily restricted afterward. I wasn’t allowed to shave my legs, I was only permitted clear nail polish. I wasn’t allowed to wear heels for the most part -- my first pair was half-inch high, plain cream-colored maryjanes, and I had to practically grovel to be allowed to get those. I wasn’t even allowed haircuts besides various lengths of straight-across-the-back and an option of fringe or no fringe.  Even as an adult my mom tries to bully me into conforming to her boring aesthetic sensibilities. She’ll say whatever she thinks I’ll find shaming enough to stop doing the thing she said it about. She’ll mock my “grand rebellion” in one breath and then tell me I “look just like everyone else” in the next. She’ll tell me I look like a trashy teenager and then turn around and tell me I look old.  Stop assuming that everyone grew up with the same pressures toward hyperfemininity that you personally experienced. Y’all sound like my mother with the assumption that I must only want any of the trappings of femininity because I’ve been brainwashed into it (despite that I also wasn’t allowed to watch tv that my parents hadn’t first watched and given approval for, or read magazines besides NatGeo and Readers’ Digest for the vast majority of my childhood), and y’all can fuck right off with that. My mom did her damnedest to brainwash me to NOT like makeup, nail polish, glitter, and Being Fancy. She failed overall, though she did succeed in leaving me with an internal flinch reaction every time someone Notices My Aesthetic, because her Notice meant a berating, and she impressed upon me that I can’t even trust a compliment from a stranger, because she insisted that if I had gotten any compliments at all on an outfit SHE didn’t like, that the compliments must entirely have been fabricated out of an attempt to “sabotage” me. But y’know what? I know how to hear the little inner voice that tells me what I like for myself, what actually makes me happy, and I’m not about to let trauma responses and brainwashing attempts keep me from doing the things that make that little voice SING.

[drakeandkatherine]

The Royal Romance AU Fan Fiction- Drake x MC Trouble: Chapter 2  I Dare You

Finally! Chapter 2 is here! Catch up with chapter one here! (also made a couple small dialogue changes so feel free to read it again! also...cause its been months since i posted the first chapter I feel like a refresh might be needed)

Trouble will be completely different from my previous fic, Trouble Is.

As always, Drake, Hana, Liam, Maxwell, Olivia, Madeline, and any other characters from The Royal Romance belong to Pixelberry. My MC Katherine Delacroix is all mine and i love this bean.

Description: A game of truth or dare with a twist await Katherine and friends. What could go wrong? 

In this AU the TRR gang are in college and royal life never existed for them! As I write these characters, I am trying to think of how they would be and how they would act and talk, if they never had courtly manners and rules to follow. I want to keep them similar to TRR canon, but not so much that it isn't realistic with how they are without a royal life in Cordornia. So please bare with me!

Warnings: drinking/alcohol use, language, drug mentions, death mentions

Tags: @drakewalker04​ @burnsoslow​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @princessleac1​

“Alright! I think we have enough players. Let’s get this game started!” Maxwell smiled and looked around the small circle that had formed around the fire pit.

“What are the rules this time, Maxwell?” A blonde sitting across from Katherine asked. ‘He looks like a prince.’ Katherine thought. 

“Ah, good question, Liam. The rules tonight will be...” Maxwell took a minute to think. “Aha! If you pass a dare, you have to take a shot. Truths are free game, but you can’t pass a dare without taking a shot!” Everyone nodded. Just then, a platinum blonde came stumbling to the circle, sitting on Liam’s lap. 

“Are we really playing this stupid game again?” She asked, taking a swig of the bottle she held in her hand. Liam sighed, looking visibly annoyed. 

“You know, Madeline, if you don’t want to play, you can go back inside.” He said, clearly not enjoying the drunk girl sitting on his lap. Katherine couldn’t help  but stare. This girl, Madeline, was clearly wasted. Madeline noticed Katherine’s eyes on her. 

“What are you staring at?”Madeline’s eyes narrowed.  Katherine shook her head. 

“Just admiring how pretty you are.” Katherine lied. She didn’t say anything more. Drake leaned over and whispered in Katherine’s ear.

“That’s Madeline. Liam is her ex boyfriend, the one who’s lap she's sitting on. Liam is also my best friend, so I truly have a distaste for that bitch.” Katherine nodded, understanding. “They had a bad break-up, but every time Madeline gets like this she believes they’re still together.” Nodding, she turned her attention back to Maxwell.

“Okay, time to start! Hmm, I think I’ll choose the newbie first. What’s your name?” Maxwell looked to Katherine.

“Me? I’m Katherine.”

“Alright then, Katherine, truth or dare?” Maxwell smiled.

“I guess I’ll start off strong. Dare.” She noticed as some of the others in the circle smiled and snickered, possibly thinking she was a fool for picking dare on the first turn. 

“Oh, hell yeah! Starting the game off right! Okay, I dare you to stand on one leg until you’re chosen again.” Katherine groaned. 

“I’d rather take a shot, thank you.” She grabbed one of the bottles nearby and poured a shot. She tossed it bag, ignoring the urge to gag. ‘Ugh, vodka is not my thing.’

It was her turn to choose next, so she chose Madeline. “Madeline, truth or dare.” Katherine smirked.

“Ugh, if I have too. Truth.” She slurred.

“Why are you acting like a clingy, pathetic puppy towards Liam when he is clearly annoyed with you?” The group went silent. No one had ever stood up to Madeline before, much less insulted her. Katherine hated these kinds of girls, but never had the confidence to do anything about it. ‘Again with this weird confidence. Who am I?’

“Why you..” Madeline started to get up from Liam’s lap. “How dare you speak to me like that?”

“Speak to you like what? Like a normal, sane person asking why you’re being the exact opposite? Get a clue, dude. Stop acting like you’re still together with him, he clearly wants nothing to do with you. Anyone here can see it.” Madeline was seething now. She started taking steps towards Katherine, stumbling. Partygoers had begun to pull their phones out, recording what was happening.

“You’re going to regret th- ow!” Madeline tripped and fell onto the grass, the bottle in her hand dropping and spilling all over Hana.

“Oh my god!” Hana jumped up from where she was sitting, now soaked in the vodka Madeline had spilled. Some who saw what happened started to laugh. Some looked like they felt sympathy for Madeline. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Liam sighed as he went over and helped her up. “I’m sorry about all of this, excuse us.” He left with Madeline, nearly having to carry her into the house. 

“That. Was. Awesome!” Maxwell exclaimed, turning excitedly to Katherine. “I haven’t seen anyone put her in her place like that since Olivia did, almost a year ago.” 

“Did someone say my name?” A red-headed girl walked over. “That was impressive, I’m Olivia.” Olivia held out her hand. Katherine shook it and smiled. 

“Thanks. I despise people like that, so I just said what everyone was thinking.” She shrugged. 

“Well, you’re good in my book. I hate that soul sucking succubus.” Olivia laughed. Hana walked over to the little group and grabbed Katherine’s hand. 

“Hey, I am soaking wet, mind coming inside with me while I dry off?” Katherine nodded. 

“Sorry guys, gotta go for now. I’ll see y’all later!” Katherine followed Hana indoors and stood outside the bathroom as Hana grabbed a towel to dry off the vodka.  After a few minutes of waiting and growing impatient, Katherine wandered down the hall. She noticed a door was open and took a peek inside. Drake was sitting on the bed in the room, filling up a glass pipe with what looked like marijuana.

“You gonna share?” Katherine asked, stepping into the room and spooking Drake in the process, nearly making him drop the pipe.

“Jesus, knock next time would you?” Drake scolded. Katherine took a seat next to Drake and laughed.

“I could, but that wouldn’t be any fun.” 

“Whatever. I guess I could share a couple hits of this with you.” Drake said before lighting the bowl and taking a long drag. As he exhaled, he passed it to Katherine. “You smoke?”

“Occasionally. Not as often as I used to.” She said before taking her own long drag from the bowl. “Whenever I snuck out and went to my friends house we would always smoke a bowl.” Her fingers brushed his as she handed it back to him, a jolt of electricity running through her from the touch. ‘I wonder if he felt that too.’

“Heh. I only smoke every once in a while. Just to calm my nerves or irritation from all the dumbasses who come here.” He put the bowl on the side table next to the bed. “Sneaking out? Guess you must have had some strict parents.”

“My grandma was pretty strict.”

“What about your mom and dad?”

“Dead.” Katherine said deadpan. Drake cursed himself. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something.” He apologized, but Katherine shrugged.

“It’s okay, they died when I was 6.” Katherine forced a smile. “I barely remember them.”

“What happened?” Drake scooted a little closer to her on the bed, hands nearly touching.

“Some bad shit. Like, really bad.” Katherine took a breath. “When I was six, we were visiting my grandma and they had gone out in the middle of the night. They were heavy drug users, I’m talking about heroin, meth, pills. The whole works.” Drake put a comforting hand over her own, nodding and listening.

“Well, I found out what happened when I was older. I found out about how they were users. That night they left, the night they died, was because of a drug deal gone wrong. My mom waited in the car while my dad went in to the house they were at to buy more heroin. He never came back out. Apparently he started a fight with them about the cost and the quantity or something and it got so bad that they just shot him dead. They found my mom, high off of her ass in the car. She had no idea what just happened, and she didn’t even notice when they walked up to the car window. They shot her through the window and fled the scene.” Katherine’s eyes filled with tears. She wasn’t quite sure why she was telling the whole story to a man she just met, but something about him made her trust him. Something about him simply screamed to her that he was safe. 

Drake squeezed her hand and pulled her into a hug. He held her as she sobbed quietly. 

“I’m sorry, that got really dark and now I’m getting make up on your shirt and I must look like a mess.” Katherine said, wiping the tears from her eyes and sitting up right. Drake gave her a small smile. 

“It’s alright, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry that happened to your parents. And to you. No one should have to go through that.” Katherine managed a small smile, thankful for his understanding.

“Thank you, Drake.” A moment of silence passed between them, before she spoke again. “What about you? If we’re sharing our life stories, might as well get it out.” Drake looked at her for a long moment before sighing.

“Well, my mom lives in Texas. It’s where I grew up and met Liam. My dad was in the military and died overseas. My sister goes to a college in Texas, she didn’t want to leave. I felt like I had to the moment I could or else I was going to go insane and be trapped there forever.” Katherine knew exactly what he meant.

“So, how did you end up here? How did you meet Liam?” Katherine asked, lightening up the conversation.

“Liam lived in Texas for a few years when we were kids. We went to the same school and became best friends pretty quickly. He ended up moving here, due to his dad getting a job as this colleges dean. After my dad died, I knew I had to get out of Texas. I’d see Liam on breaks from school occasionally, and one time he mentioned that I should try to get into Applewood. So, that’s what I did. I played sports and kept my grades up in school to make sure I’d get accepted. I’m here on a scholarship, believe it or not.” 

“I can believe it.” Katherine said, smiling. “That’s why I’m able to be here.” She looked at him, feeling the magnetic pull becoming stronger from their conversation. Drake felt it as well, now inches away from her lips, until they heard a loud round of cheering coming from downstairs. Startled and flustered, Katherine stood up from the bed. “We should get back to the party.” Drake nodded, standing up as well. 

Upon returning to the party, they made their way to the kitchen where none other than Hana was lying on the kitchen isle, with her shirt pulled up. Three shots were lined on her stomach, along with salt and lime wedges. 

“Hana, what are you doing?” Katherine asked, walking up to the isle. 

“Body shots! This is so much fun!” Hana laughed. After a random partygoer took the shots and licked the salt off of Hana’s stomach, she stood up and nearly fell to the floor. 

“Whoa, we should get you back to our dorm. You’re definitely drunk.” Katherine said as she caught Hana before she could fall to the floor.

“You’re probably, hiccup, right.” Hana giggled. Katherine looked at Drake. “I’m sorry, but I have to go get this one to bed before she throws up.” 

“It’s all good. Make sure you guys get back safe. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon. Good night, Katherine.” Drake smiled, before turning away and walking back up the stairs to his room. ‘Dumbass. Why didn’t you offer to walk with her?’

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

“Alright, Hana. Here you go.” Katherine laid her down onto the bed, even going as far as taking off her shoes. Within an instant, Hana was quietly snoring away. Katherine quickly changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed, mind reeling from the events of the night, and thoughts of Drake. Before long, her body gave out and she fell into a heavy sleep.

[rametarin]

tempting.

Reflecting on my health issues, since age 17. And my living situation.

So since around the age of 16, I’ve been plagued with unpredictable bowel problems and digestive ills. Like, everybody gets constipated every now and then, but I mean I’d get just, excruciatingly backed up and my family wouldn’t help me get seen or anything.

Basically from the time I was 18 onwards I was told my medical bills were mine. But oh by the way [Ram. Not my real name, but the name fam calls me], you gotta pay us every dollar that isn’t devoted to keeping yourself alive :^)

I’d be like, family, I cannot afford this, it’d be in your best interests to invest in my health so I can figure out what’s fucky about my bowels and stomach so this can stop happening, I can live a normal life, and we can all continue on our merry way.

Basically I was told, “tough shit, do it yourself, also pay your fair share to The Family” (aka, give mom all your money.)

It was never just fear of homelessness, but fear of homelessness while my GI tract was fucky and my teeth were rotting out of my head that made escape from here impossible. It’s why I didn’t just climb into a hole in the wall and escape this garbage fire of a mother and do that bootstrap shit. Because it sincerely made  me wonder sometimes if I was being poisoned by my mother to keep me powerless and in need of help, but perpetually weakened to where the best I could do is move towards help but just be put on a treadmill for someone elses financial benefit.

Perhaps my bitterness makes just a touch more sense now, right? Because Maine is a long-drive state. You need a car. You absolutely need a car to get anywhere. Not having one means you walk everywhere, you ride a bike everywhere and are FUCKED during the winter, or you go nowhere because you don’t have anywhere you need to be and don’t drive.

Now that said, imagine having bowel and ass problems so bad just the idea of driving makes you question if it’s safe for you to even be on the road.

That has been my existence for twenty years now, because my family wants me just close enough to extract what mom things “she’s owed,” but absolutely will not help me with anything. There’s no security in staying here because the whole fucking POINT of putting up with a family’s infantilizing “everything has its place” mentality, is you’re able to wisely squirrel away your income without paying a landlord anything and your income going up in smoke

If your mother is just the worst sort of landlord, you’re basically just paying a narcissistic bitch of a mother to be a narcissistic bitch of a mother. There’s absolutely no upside.

So I’ve been stuck in this virtual tutorial of an existence because my own digestive system was torturing me and seriously deleting my ability to operate independently. And mom, whom has always wanted absolute control over my finances and my future, saw it as a holistic way of penning me up and making be desperate. Never a wasted opportunity with this fucking monster.

Well. I eliminated cottonseed oil and chicken proteins from my diet and, while not perfect, the amount of excruciating pain and pressure and weird cold-acidic burning in my back and bowels has subsided a lot. As well as my stomach issues receded considerably.

The truth is I was loathe to even try and escape without figuring out these problems, but I couldn’t figure them out because I never had the money. I tried to get a barium enema x-ray when I was 17 and suffering a massive, excruciating flareup. I missed prom (I didn’t have anyone to go with anyway) because of what felt like it could’ve been anything from gall stones to bowel cancer.

Had a big useless cleanse that was excruciating, then had the guys that give the barium enema tell me, “lube is expensive” when I screamed about how much it hurt to have the thing shoved up my ass. My already inflamed, tender ass.

Absolutely nothing was found in my bowels. Which did absolutely nothing to explain why they felt inflamed and miserable. But it did give me a $1,700 bill, which proved.. absolutely nothing except they couldn’t find tumors or any object lodged in my butt. Given how it took me two summers to acquire almost that much working a shit job for my shithead father’s girlfriend, maybe you can appreciate how heartbreaking that is. Spending all that money and you don’t even learn WHY you’re suffering, you just learn why you aren’t.

And today I still fume with rage over being told, “ass lube is expensive so we’re skimping on it” and then be charged almost two thousand god damned dollars.

Absolutely could not get my family to help me pursue any other avenue. They just kept insisting, “it’s all anxiety, it’s all in your head. You just need to get off the computer and do more manual labor/make us money and your problems will go away. :^)”

But then they would not help me do it. They wanted me to take on all the risk while they got the guaranteed income from my needing to be around them.

My need to grow step by step was their opportunity to mitigate my life, every step of the way, so non-compliance with their exploitation would result in homelessness and complete uprooting. If I wasn’t going to voluntarily follow draconian rules, then I’d be governed by those rules anyway in the absence of them being verbally stated. Just, using poverty and immobility as a way to impose it.

But I refused to comply. I wasn’t going to suffer every day unendingly AND get my income snatched away, BY MY OWN GOD DAMNED FAMILY. A family that didn’t even pay RENT to live in the house we were living in at the time, and a family that made 65-70K a year, with another house they owned in a less convenient location worth $350K. My mother had ABSOLUTELY NO BUSINESS other than fun and profit as an excuse as to why I needed to buy, “the family,” a car. Other than making it the “family” car giving her defacto control over it but my obligation to pay for it. Just another indirect way to give her absolute control over my options and alternatives.

So I didn’t work. I sat at home and dealt with her abusive bullshit, because it was the only card I had left in my deck. She didn’t want the stigma of throwing out a sick man without a license, a car or any savings. I didn’t want to voluntarily throw myself out and die in the street.

So I dealt with my health problems as best as I could. There were a good many times living in this house, that we’ve lived in and she’s owned since 2006, that I questioned whether I should phone an ambulance and just say fuck it, go into tens of thousands of dollars of debt just goosechasing this problem, thanks to the backdoor socialized medical system that exploits the profit motive but uses government assured payment fixed to taxes in order to afford it.

That’s probably what pisses me off the most about my situation. Our medical system has been turned into a farce by socialists deliberately making medicine as toxic as they fucking can in order to then bat their eyes and go, “Bet you just want single payer and to basically make medicine another ring of the government NOW, don’t youuuuuu? It’d make all those woes go awayyyyy!” while turning the screws to our bodies by denying us affordable medicine. All while blaming capitalism for shit that’s assured to work at any cost by the government.

Other people pine for a more socialized system to make the disgusting exploitation and abuse stop. But the truth is, that’s just like wanting to marry a pirate so they’ll stop lobbing cannonballs and demanding tolls at sea from you. Yes, the actual literal war on you and your community and your personal sovereignty will be over, but you’ll also be institutionalizing pirates in order to make them stop taking complete advantage of you on their terms instead of taking complete advantage of you on mostly-their terms but you get to act like you’re consenting to it.

I digressed. Anyway...

Well. I’m curious about pursuing a shit job just to see if I can KEEP some income, but I know, and have always known, my mother will not allow me to do anything with that money but barely keep myself alive. While she uses it to just buy enormous bulk loads of garbage and hoards them in the corners, or throws hundreds of dollars at friends-of-the-family/neighbors and extracts that money from me to do it.

I know going into it that the job would be otherwise worthless. She wants her ten pounds of flesh a year from me, and if I worked, there’d be no getting around it. She isn’t going to allow me to profit living with her, in any way. Everything has to revolve around her, or I get made homeless.

But trying to hold a job would mean possible (there’s that ‘potential vs. guarantee dichotomy again) feelers out to couches to surf on. Or credit building.

It’d still be a sexless existence dictated by someone so fucking petty that they can’t help you fix a broken tooth but do miraculously have the money to buy you a cell phone and a plan, “if you want it,” purely to always have you at their beck and call and/or have control over your phone plan. And it’d mean committing to something that runs a minimum of a year while being able to have a foot crushing my neck and destroying whatever I’m trying to do in an instant.

but it’d also mean being able to financially pursue what’s wrong with me and fixing it.

But I will hold this grudge against women and the actual, objective privilege they have from the legal system and our social system in the US for the rest of my life. Everybody around me saw what she was doing to me and my life, and they’ve done and said absolutely nothing. An abusive woman in this society is basically on par with the richest barons in a young adult novel, and all you have to do to get that kind of institutional power, rich or poor, is have a vagina and be a mom.

Then other women will sympathize with the mother, whom can never be totally wrong about anything, and at best you might get silence and indifference about the way you’re treated.

You can be cornered, debased and neglected until you’re a greasy shoggoth of a person, and if it’s a woman doing this to you, it’s your fault for not escaping. After having every escape route made as torturous and unsustainable an option as possible, you’ll be held accountable for yourself.

I’ll be relieved and pleased when this disgusting pig of a woman dies of natural causes. She’ll have gotten away with grabbing my life and thrashing around with it for 20 years while the world passed me by, just to keep control, just for fun, just for profit.

But in the meantime, maybe there’s a local niche I can fill. Just enough of something to find somewhere else to live. Without conditions making it more damning to pursue than nothing at all.

But I’m not hoping too hard.

[soft-stormcloud]

Panic Cord: Please Don’t Say You Love Me [2/3]

Synopsis: When Virgil and his fiancé, Logan, take in Virgil’s ex boyfriend Roman and his boyfriend, Patton, Virgil’s forced to come face to face with his guilt. 

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Prinxiety, Analogical, LAMP, background logicality

Word count: 3580 out of 8823

Trigger warnings: Implied abusive parents, very heavy guilt, financial problems, potentially unsympathetic Virgil? It’s complicated, everyone makes mistakes.

Part One

    Logan was, of course, okay with it. 

    Virgil dared say he was excited. He took a day off work (he had a lot of personal days saved up) to spend making sure the apartment was clean and inviting, and his office was cleared out for Roman and Patton to move in. Virgil had to move his vanity to make room for Logan’s desk, but he didn’t complain. 

    When they arrived, Logan pulled Patton into a tight hug while Virgil took Roman’s luggage to carry it inside. 

    “Is this all you have?” He asked, frowning. 

    Roman shrugged and followed Virgil into the apartment. He was sort of dazed as he looked around. “Well, I had a few of Patton’s things over at my place, but when he was evicted, his landlord sold his things. I had to be fast to leave so I just filled up whatever I could in this suitcase and we left.” 

    “I’m surprised you let Patton in your house,” he said as he pushed open the door to what was previously Logan’s study, now Roman and Patton’s room. 

    “What?” He frowned. “I didn’t.” 

    Virgil set his suitcase down in the bare room and looked at him in confusion. “You said you had some of his things?” 

    Roman blushed and looked away. “Just, like, sweaters and stuff.” 

    He couldn’t hide a grin. “You’re still so sappy.”

    “It’s not exactly a bad thing!” Roma pouted. 

    “I didn’t say it was.” He didn’t bother unpacking the suitcase, leading Roman right back out. “Logan and I called in a favour with our parents- Come with us, we’re getting you some furniture.” 

    “What?” Roman smiled nervously. “You don’t-” 

    “You’re at least getting a bed.” Virgil gave him a flat look. “Besides, my mom was way too happy to help. She and Dad actually want to have dinner with you and meet Patton, whenever you’re up for that.” 

    Roman only blushed brighter. He was embarrassed, but in a good way.

    When they went back into the living room, Logan was explaining to Patton how they could afford such a nice apartment. 

    “Virgil’s and my parents got together and wrote us a cheque for our Christmas present,” he was saying. Virgil stepped beside him and wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist. “They covered half the costs. We’re also pretty lucky with our jobs, they pay us well, and we’ve been saving up for a while.” 

    As they walked out the door and headed for the apartment’s elevator, Patton looked at Logan curiously and asked, “What do you guys do?” 

    Virgil hid a smile as Logan lit up, launching into an excited ramble about his job. Logan loved his job, and he wasn’t quiet about it. He didn’t even do anything super exciting or that he’s passionate about; It was just convenient, and well-paying, and easy. He said he mostly enjoyed it because he got to put all of his energy into his studies, and his relationship with Virgil, not having to waste any to pay for basic living expenses. 

    The four of them went out to a few of the surrounding furniture stores, somehow managing to fit a nightstand, the parts of a dresser and a bed, and a shit ton of hangers inside Logan’s tiny car. They went ahead and used the leftover money to buy Patton new clothes, and a little for Roman, as well. 

    When Roman and Patton were distracted with the clothes, Logan pulled Virgil aside. “Are you doing okay?”

    Virgil frowned in confusion. “Yeah? Why?” 

    “I just… Know this isn’t exactly what you wanted.” Logan took his hand. “I’m sorry.”

    He shrugged and ran his thumb across Logan’s palm. “It’s not what they wanted either. It’s not a big deal.”

    Logan watched him carefully. Virgil seemed… Truly unbothered. 

    “Verge, you know you don’t have to answer this, but… Why did you two break up?” He laughed a little and shook his head. “I’m so confused about your relationship.”

    Guilt flooded Virgil’s system. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No, it’s… I don’t want to talk about it.” He did want to tell Logan, both because Logan deserved to know and because Virgil thought he may feel better after getting it out. 

    But there was always the possibility that Logan would leave him, would find his actions so disgusting and mistrustful that he decided to go. 

    “It’s okay,” Logan whispered, pulling him into his arms. “Don’t panic, it’s fine. It clearly doesn’t matter anymore, whatever happened. He doesn’t seem mad at you.”

    “That’s not what I’m worried about,” Virgil mumbled. 

    xxx 

    The next few weeks living with Patton and Roman were… Interesting. For Virgil, most of it consisted of not ever letting himself be in a room with Roman alone, while also making sure Roman and Logan were never in the same room alone. It was pretty exhausting- Not just the act itself, but the guilt that came with it. Was it wrong of him to be stunting Roman and Logan’s relationship so badly? Was he proving that he hadn’t changed at all in he and Roman’s time apart, by doing pretty much the exact same thing? Was his reasoning justified in meddling with the ecosystem of their apartment? 

    Logan, someone who was always straightforward and blunt with him, didn’t seem to care. Or even notice. He and Patton were growing closer and closer by the day, and if they were a ‘normal’ couple, Virgil would be frightened every time he found Logan and Patton tangled up on the couch, asleep together, or walked in on them talking quietly and holding hands. 

For once, it was not because of the guilt. Most things Virgil did in his life was because he felt guilty. But, truly, it was because he would do anything to keep that dopey smile on his fiance’s face, and he wasn’t bothered that he wasn’t the only one to cause it. He and Logan simply had too much love to give that could be dropped onto one person. 

One day, Logan, Patton, and Virgil were in the living room, Virgil doing his makeup before work and Patton and Logan doing a puzzle, when Roman burst through the front door with sunshine in his face. 

“Love?” Patton stood and smiled, coming over to hug him. Roman picked him up and tossed him a bit, spinning him around and holding him tightly. Logan snickered as Patton squealed. “Woah- What’s going on?!”

“They’re doing auditions for Dear Evan Hansen down at the Carnation, and I got an audition!” Roman set his pink-faced boyfriend down and smiled so wide it changed the way Logan and Virgil saw him. 

Virgil had missed that smile. 

“I’m auditioning for the role of Connor!” He reached into his messenger bag, a large hole in the side patched up with the scraps of a thin red scarf, and pulled out a clean, new script. It was thin and unlaminated. “They gave me a few scenes to practice for, I need to go right now!”

Patton wasted no time following Roman into their room. Virgil was embarrassed, because half of him tried to get up, too. For a split second, he had fallen back into his old life, his old self, and as terrifying as that was, he still felt ecstatic when Roman poked his head out and said, “Hey, Verge? You wanna come, too? Patton wants to read for Zoe, but you can play Evan!” 

Virgil desperately wanted things to go back to how they were, and he desperately wanted to never go back. He was terrified that Roman being here would put him back into old habits, that all the work he had done to change and be better and build a life with Logan would vanish. But he was also so, incredibly, ridiculously happy to have Roman back, and achingly sad in a way that you only feel when you just now realized how much you’ve missed a person. He wanted to be able to pick and choose, to reach back and pluck certain elements out of his old life and drop them into his new one, and forget about the remnants. 

But life didn’t work that way. 

So as he and Patton helped Roman prepare for his audition, with Logan sitting on the bed with a book, he kind of wanted to cry. 

xxx 

“I want to be a halfling!” Patton cried in excitement. 

They were all crowded around the living room table, Virgil and Logan’s D&D Player’s Handbooks laid out in front of Roman and Patton. 

“Okay,” Logan chuckled. He was sitting next to Patton, hand planted beside his hip, so his arm was almost around him but not quite. “Then, here, these are the stats you get, you put those here.” 

When Roman and Virgil were still dating, Virgil mentioned a few times how he always wanted to get into D&D. Roman agreed, and they always said they would play together, once they had time and enough friends to make a party. The day Virgil and Logan met, Logan was wearing a Critical Role t-shirt and was buying supplies for his weekly session, a few days out. He offered to take Virgil with him, and the plan was just to watch and hang out but he got along with their party so well and already had an idea for a character, they insisted he started right away. 

It didn’t escape Roman’s attention that Virgil ended up doing something they always planned on doing together, with Logan. He was sad about it even though he knew he shouldn’t have been. How could he expect Virgil to have put his life on hold, for a reunion that neither of them thought would happen? 

There was still a part of him that felt betrayed. Roman often felt betrayed when thinking of Virgil, and it was so frustrating because he didn’t want to be mad at Virgil, especially seeing him now, seeing how much he’s changed. He was engaged, and happy about it- Excited, even. Every time someone brought up their upcoming wedding, Virgil positively lit up and couldn’t stop himself from attaching himself to Logan’s side. 

Although… As betrayed as he’s felt these last two years, as sad and as angry as he’s been… It faded as the four of them spent the night playing D&D, sinking six hours into it, making a clumsy team with Logan as their ruthless DM. It faded away for very familiar feelings to take its place. 

That morning, after Patton went to bed and Logan went to work, Roman found himself wandering towards Virgil’s room. He was so confused, and surprised, and he didn’t think he could wait any longer- He had to talk to Virgil. During their relationship, nobody could calm him down and make him see clearly the way Virgil could. He hoped they hadn’t lost that, that all this time apart hadn’t made them strangers. 

Virgil called him in after knocking, looking a little wary. He knew it couldn’t have been Logan, so it was either Patton to chew him out about all he did to Roman, or Roman himself, which had its own problems attached. 

“Hey,” Virgil said haltingly. “You need something?”

“Not really.” Roman shrugged one shoulder, not able to meet his eyes. “Just, uh…”

Virgil scooted over and Roman took the silent invitation to sit next to him, pulling the covers over his lap. “What is it?” Virgil actually looked concerned, and Roman hated that that surprised him. 

“Does it feel… Weird to you?” He risked peeking at Virgil, risked noticing the way his faded purple fell in his eyes and the way he still looked so, so tired. “Being back together?”

Virgil fell silent, and Roman was patient. He knew the face Virgil made when he was thinking, when he was choosing his words very carefully to both say what he meant and spare feelings. His eyebrows scrunched up and he chewed on his upper lip and he looked, just faintly, defeated. 

“It does,” Virgil said. “But it’s not… All bad. I just don’t think we were expecting it.” 

Roman was relieved to hear that, but it also scared him, because that meant they were thinking the same thing, and that could be dangerous. He thought of Patton, Roman’s ray of sunshine. For a short amount of time, Patton was the only reason Roman stayed alive. He loved Patton fiercely, but that kind of love was familiar to him, and he had been feeling it double lately. 

“I bet you got rid of everything.” Roman didn’t mean it as an insult, but he could acknowledge that it definitely sounded like one. 

“Actually,” Virgil said, annoyed, “I still have all of it.”

Roman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I was going to get rid of it during the move here, but… I don’t know.” 

He crawled over Roman to get out of bed, and went over to the closet in the corner of the room. He disappeared inside for a minute, clothes being moved on racks sounding out into the room, and came back with a scrapbook and a shoebox. 

The shoebox was unassuming, nothing like the one Roman had spent hours decorating, that still sat somewhere inside his parents’ house, or maybe the garbage at this point. The scrapbook was a lot more exuberant- They made it together. Somehow Virgil ended up with it. 

He got back into bed and set the scrapbook into Roman’s lap. 

But then they didn’t move. 

They both wanted to open it, and they knew that, but something about it felt wrong. Were they making a mistake? 

Just as Roman started to contemplate, Virgil took off the shoebox’s lid and tossed it aside. All of Roman’s concerns disappeared at the sight inside. 

At the very top, there was a brown leaf that looked like it would crumble with a single touch. On their one month anniversary, Roman took Virgil for a walk, which was really a disguise for a secluded, romantic picnic. He took Virgil down a dirt path with overarching trees, blooming all vibrant shades of green in the summer sun. Virgil wanted to stop, to check out a little alcove of trees off the path, and they ended up staying there for longer than planned. As they made their way out, Virgil plucked a leaf off one of the trees and stuffed it in his pocket. 

Now, Virgil reached down to pick it up, and under the weight of the wind it shattered, all over a card Virgil had made for Roman’s 19th birthday. 

They both snickered, and Virgil dropped his head back, frustrated and happy. Roman flipped open the cover of the scrapbook. The first picture was from Roman’s 19th birthday, about two months into their relationship. They both had writing and scribbles all over their arms, Roman’s in purple, Virgil’s in red. Virgil squinted to try and read some of it. 

In red, Don’t Forget Your Meds!! <3  

In purple, audition at 2:30. see you there 

There were drawings, random scribbles in red and little icons and comics in purple. Their arms were like that in most pictures, and in a picture they had taken at the park, where Roman had Virgil picked up with one arm, a little ink peeked out under his raised shirt, on his tummy. 

Looking at these pictures, Virgil had never felt so dumb. 

After they finished looking at the pictures, neither of them felt like letting Roman go back to his room. Guilt gnawed at Virgil’s insides as he and Roman scooted close to the wall, leaving enough room for Logan when he got back from work. They fell asleep with their legs tangled and their bangs brushing together. 

When Virgil woke up, it was like he had never gone to sleep. A blink of time passed and he peeked over Roman’s shoulder, worried Logan had gotten home and gotten angry, left to sleep somewhere else, and was only mildly relaxed to find him there in his usual spot. He had actually scooted closer than he had to in order not to fall off the bed, almost spooning Roman. 

Virgil laid there until Logan woke up. The morning was one of Virgil’s favourite times to spend with Logan, because Logan was sleepy and affectionate like a cat, and they often spent the mornings drinking coffee in silence. Just being in the same room was often enough for Virgil. 

It wasn’t like that this time. Virgil could barely look at him. Was he angry? Was he going to accuse Virgil of cheating, or wanting to leave him? 

He knew Logan would never have this conversation without at least a cup of coffee, so he stayed quiet. Logan prided himself on being able to articulate himself, and he couldn’t do that when he was tired. 

After a little bit of Virgil stewing, and cooking breakfast for four, Logan finally turned to him and said, “What’s going on? You’re freaking out.” 

“Was that inappropriate? Are you mad?” 

Logan hummed and turned off the stove, putting the pan on a different burner. “I think for normal couples, the answer would definitely be yes, and we would need to have a talk.” He opened up his arms and Virgil sunk into them, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder. “But we’re not normal. Does he make you happy?”

That wasn’t a question Virgil was prepared for. Maybe that was stupid, but it wasn’t that he didn’t know the answer, it was that he wasn’t sure if he earned the right to say it. 

But this was Logan. He was always safe with Logan. 

“Yes.” 

“Do I still make you happy?” 

“Yes!” Virgil pulled back, looking at Logan in concern and panic. “What kind of question is that?!” 

Logan cupped Virgil’s face in his hands and kissed him, just firm enough to keep him grounded, to remember where he was. Virgil rested his hands on Logan’s waist and sighed into it, kissing him back. 

“We tell each other before we do things,” Logan mumbled. 

“Right. And the other has to be okay with it.”

“And I’m okay with it. And the other has to know the new person. Don’t I?”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “Yes. And it goes both ways.” 

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Logan whispered. “But if you really can’t shake that feeling, then we should have a different conversation.”

Virgil and Logan had put their polygamy into practice before, but never for anything serious or long-term. Virgil felt guilty about a lot of things, it pretty much ruled his life, but this had never been one of them. 

“Morning, guys,” Patton said as he wandered into the room. Virgil and Logan pulled away so Virgil could make Patton a plate while Logan greeted him. 

Patton and Logan ate their breakfast and then headed into Patton and Roman’s room, because Logan promised to help Patton prepare for his job interview and then drive him there. While Virgil was making his own plate after finally getting hungry, Roman came into the kitchen. 

“Hey,” he said nervously. 

Virgil glanced back at him and then forward. “Hey. Are you hungry?” 

They sat next to each other with their plates of food, and ate in awkward silence. When Virgil went to reach for his drink, Roman set his hand over Virgil’s. He didn’t remember the last time his heart had jumped so high, or so much excitement flooded his system. 

“I have my audition today,” Roman said quietly. “Are you busy?” 

Virgil was walking on eggshells. Everything lately felt like a decision, like one way or another his life was changing, and he had to make the decisions without knowing what it would lead to. 

“I’m not busy,” he settled on, because it was the truth. 

Roman linked their fingers together, and Virgil squeezed his hand. Virgil thought of what Logan said, that he was okay with it- And suddenly Virgil realized that he himself might not be. As Roman leaned closer, Virgil jumped out of the chair and scrambled to grab his half empty plate and head into the kitchen. 

“Actually, I just remembered that I, uh, have a lot of stuff to get done today,” he stuttered, fumbling for a tupperware to put his leftover food into. “Sorry, I, uh, can’t make it. Sorry.”

“Virgil.” Roman frowned and stood, coming over to him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just- I can’t make it.” Virgil slid his food into the fridge and put his dishes in the dishwasher. He tried leaving, but Roman was blocking the way out of the kitchen. “I can’t make it, okay?”

Roman looked at him in frustration, and hurt. Virgil hated how familiar that was. Of all the things Virgil wanted to see again now that Roman was back in his life, that was last on the list. “Do you think- Maybe we should talk about what happened? Because you’re acting-”

“No!” Virgil’s eyes widened. “No, what? What are you- There’s nothing to talk about. How would that help?” 

“Virgil, if you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine, but-” 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Virgil insisted, and he kind of felt like crying. 

Roman stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for him to change his mind or say he was kidding. Then Roman grabbed his keys and his jacket, and walked out the door.

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