#he told me to tell my mom to eat a dick when shes egging on my eating disorder

[deicide-doll]

trigger warning. do not read if you dont want to read something triggering.

[hopefulstarfire]

Alright day 1 of my ship prompt drabbles here and ready for you guys!

Prompt 16: Poetry.

I kinda had a few different ideas but ultimately came to this one for Trouvailleshipping! Hope you guys enjoy!

Car keys dropped into the bowl on the hallway console, boots toed kicked off haphazardly at the designated mat by the door and his bag fell to the floor with a thud. "I'm home." Was the exhausted call made, followed by the shuffling of sock covered feet and soon, Iris saw Alister shuffling in, dressed in a warm sweater and jeans, hair mussed from his helmet and a certain level of exhaustion in his eyes.

She opened her arms just in time as he practically flopped on top of her, head buried against her chest as his arms slowly wove around her.

"Rough day?" She guessed, setting the book she was reading aside. There was a muffled noise of confirmation and she brushed her fingers through his hair. He relaxed, practically melting into her touch. "Work stuff?"

"I wish," Alister scoffed. "My job's a lot less of a pain."

"Valon being a gremlin?"

"Your brother."

She didn't even need to ask which brother. She already knew damned well which one. "What did Seto did this time?"

He pushed himself up enough to look at her, caging his arms on either side of her. "I went to go drop off some things with your mom after work, because she asked if I wouldn't mind and, of course I don't, I love her dearly," he explained, brows furrowed in frustration. "I get there. Her writing club she started up is there, hence why she asked if I could drop off some food she ordered. And so is your brother, because he was watching your sister or something, and they want to stop and talk. Your mom told them about my Dad's journalism and his articles and they were praising his work and we got to talking about what their writing challenge was for this month, which was poetry, and they asked if I was interested in joining. I was trying to say no--"

"--And he trapped you into doing it by egging you on." She sighed.

"Your brother was so much more tolerable when I was actively planning his downfall."

Her hand moved to his cheek, shaking her head. There was always the route of them going to her mom and telling her; Meredith understood it better than anyone how her son was. Or, there was always the funnier route she liked to take of writing a prescription to her brother to eat a dick.

But Alister Gayle was one of the most stubborn men she knew.

"You want to prove him wrong, don't you?"

"Well, no shit," he scoffed, before sighing. "You know. I'm...trying to push past...everything involving Kaiba and focus on my new life. Our life. I swear to you, Iris, I am--"

"But he's Seto." He had yet to mellow out himself fully. Kat had been good for him in that sense; she was working on it with him. Frankly, she thought they'd do more good if they just confessed their feelings already, but life was still currently too complicated for that at the moment. "Trust me, you don't have to justify it to me. I grew up with him, remember?"

Alister fell quiet for a moment, leaning into her touch a bit more and pressing a kiss against her palm. "...The funny thing is, disregarding that...it might actually be fun."

"Have you ever written poetry before?" Iris asked, curiously.

"No. I came up with my own stories to pass the time with my friends, sure, but..." he said, and there's a flash in his eyes she's all too familiar with. "But. Most of it was fantasy stuff. And I haven't really done any of it since I was a kid."

She hummed in thought and her free arm stretched out towards the coffee table, hand fumbling for the remote. "Well. We're both off tomorrow and we can stay up," she mused, flicking back from the video she was on and going to the search bar on YouTube. "There's bound to be plenty of videos we can watch to get you some tips in."

He cocked a brow at her before he snorted in laughter. "We're gonna sneak in a cram session so I can write one little poem?"

"No, we're gonna cram it all night so you can write a poem that'd make Emily Dickinson eat her own paper and you can give my brother the proverbial middle finger and make moms friends sing your praises."

The competitive streak of hers used to be so much more subdued. It wasn't until after she woke up from her soul being snatched out of her body that it came out.

He gazed at and smirked after a moment, hand going to the back of her head as he gave her a kiss. "Have I mentioned I love you?"

"Mm, a few times today, but it's nice to hear," she quipped. She settled back against the couch, stretching her arms out. "For the record, I love you too. Now let's get started."

°°°

Around 1 in the morning, Alister was pretty sure he'd seen enough tips and beginners videos to give him a solid starting point.

Iris had passed out probably a half hour, 45 minutes top before he decided he'd had his fill. He shut off the television, rising to his feet as easily as he could without waking her, before he lifted her slumbering form into his arms. She let out a small grunt as she was shifted, but didn't seem to wake, instead burying her face into his chest.

He carried her up the stairs of their old house, silent as a mouse. He deposited her on her side of the bed, pulling the covers up over her and smoothed her hair out of her face. The thought to turn in and join her crossed his mind, but he was still far too awake to even try at the moment. He had held off with little sleep before, he could stay up a little later and it would be fine.

Ideas were swirling in his mind and, frankly, he didn't think there was much of an off switch.

Alister scooted the chair at the desk out, booting up the laptop and dimming the light down to keep from bothering the sleeping woman, but still light enough to not completely fuck up his eyes.

Fingers gently padded against the laptop as he sat back in thought. There was a thousand things he could write about. Nature, random objects, civilization. Most poetry seemed to come from a place of vulnerability, though, or at least some of the best ones did. That...made it a little trickier.

There were things he never could share. The horrors he went through were not something he could put to pen and paper and try to make something tragically beautiful out of it. Opening up old wounds, opening up the party of him that longed for better, was not something he could just unleash on the group that barely knew him, even if he wanted to. And his memories of happier times failed him; he barely remembered his father and what he remembered of his mother was plagued by war. He only knew of who they once were from stories from the family; it was all he had.

How could he write a poem about people he didn't truly know?

He could write about his chosen family. Raphaels strength, Masons fatherly instincts, Valons sheer determination and willpower. He could write about the joy they brought. But, then again, could he ever live it down that he wrote poetry about Valon? The humiliation would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Soft snoring filled the air and the shift of the mattress let him know she was tossing in her sleep.

He smiled, silver eyes glancing back to where his fiance slept.

If there was anyone in this world he knew inside and out, even more than any other member of that family, it was her. She had truly become more than he ever would have prepared himself for. She had started as a target, a means to an end, a person to take out if he had to. Then she became his friend. His best friend. Then a girlfriend, and he argued it was for the mission, to get closer to his goal...and then they were nothing but heartbreak.

Yet she waited for him. Patient, understanding and resilient; when he came back, she stayed and promised to help him through it all, without expecting anything else in return other than getting questions answered. She gave him space, but, most importantly, she gave him a safe place. When things got bad, she was there, finding ways to help him where she could and tried her hardest to understand.

He loved her and she loved him, and finally, finally, he could let himself feel...well, feel anything other than just pain or numbness.

Turning back to the computer, his fingers stilled above the keys for a moment before his thoughts poured out onto the page.

"You didn't care that I was broken glass that could shred you open,

And you didn't curse my name when you had every right to.

Instead, you picked up the pieces and helped slowly put it back together.

I carried a life time of war,

And when you opened your arms for me,

I finally came home from a once neverending battlefield."

Maybe it was corny. No, okay, it was the sappiest thing he'd ever written and he wasn't sure how he even managed it. But, he read it, over and over again, mouthing it along before he sat back once more.

Maybe it should be corny.

He closed the laptop, giving a nod to himself. He could edit it later. But, for now, it would do.

The best poems came from the heart, after all.

And she was his.

[i-am-ironic]

Daminette betrothed au part 5

So I have had some crazy writing block so I'm not really sure when this is going to be posted so sorry for the very late post anyway where were we...

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

Damian and marinette decided to go on a date to gatham botanical gardens. Once they got there Damian took her on a tour around the garden, until they were told they had to leave because a threat had been called in. Daimen suggested they go to Wayne Enterprises and he could give her a tour of that instead. It was perfect, Mari could see WE on a day his brothers wouldn't be around so she wouldn't ask to see it a day they would be around.

Almost as soon as they arrived Damian was told his father wanted to speak with him, probably about Xander. Marinette went to the cafeteria to get some lunch. When she was looking for a place to sit she recognized one of the men happily chatting at a table with some of his co-workers.

"Dick! Hey," she called. He turned and smiled at her, waving her over. "I didn't know uiu worked here? Oh! How is Mar'i I haven't seen her since last week?"

Dick continued smiling as he said, "Mar'i is with her mother visiting some family, i couldn't go because I have some business here, but they should be home by tomorrow and I'm sure she will be very excited to see Xander at the park again. What are you doing here?"

"Im here on a tour as a date. But he was called away by his boss for something."

"Oh ok, that's cool." He responded. "So did you see the news this morning? The Riddler was caught last night by Robin and Red Hood."

The conversation continued and marinette smiled at the thought that damian had helped put a mad man back into a place where he could get some help.

At the same time Dick was thinking about how his little brother could have gotten killed last night. even though he was proud of damian, it was clear that he had been distracted by something and as a vigilante he couldn't afford to be distracted.

When everyone was finished eating they stood up and walked toward the door, laughing and talking, as marinette told them her date was done and she wanted to continue the tour with him. As she was walking away Dick could swear the man she hugged and went with was Damien. But no he had to be seeing things. Right?

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

Tim was downing his third coffee of the day when Dick walked into his office. He was going to need some more coffee.

"Hey Timmy, I was wondering if you could look up Marinette dupan-chang. I think I may have just seen her hug damian and not have her arms removed from her body. Not even a finger."

"I'll send you whatever I find." Tim said. he was far too tired to unpack whatever it was Dick just said, all he heard was "Marinette dupan-chang" and "hug damian". which sounded interesting but he was looking into a partnership with several other big companies to have a charity for art (again) and a murder case simultaneously. So it might have to wait until he was more awake to deal with that.

"Great, send it to my personal phone." Tim nodded and got back to work on his two projects, but the idea of someone hugging damian was just too tempting. He pulled a second laptop onto his desk on top of the laptop he already had and the keyboard of his desktop computer.

He learned that marinette had gone missing at the same time as damian and after several months she was found at the ege of France. She gave birth to a baby boy shortly after that which meant she had gotten pregnant while she was missing. At the same time damian was missing. And the same time the hero of Paris had gone missing.

Tim wasn't an idiot he was actually kind of a genius. And these dots weren't hard to connect. Marinette was probably kidnapped by Talia, because she was ladybug, at the sane time damian was kidnapped. She had then had a son whose name was Xander dupan-chang al Ghul Wayne, with no father listed. So damian had a son. Now the question was, did damian know he had a son? He would have to ask one of the two of them. This should be fun.

Tim decided not to tell Dick or Jason what he had learned, not yet. He would talk to damian about it first, find out who all know and then see what happened from there. The one thing that still bothered him though was that marinette had only been seventeen when her son was born. She had been so young. And she was alone. A single teen mom in Paris, and now in gatham.

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

Oooo what's going to happen! How exciting. I hope you guys like this chapter i had some really bad writers block but I'm hoping its better now. I'm also pretty stressed because I have bed bugs. Yay. Bed bugs are awful i don't know were they came from and they are so hard to get rid of its ridiculous. I'm doing everything I can but if you ever get bed bugs I recomend burning your bed, the sheets, the comforter, the carpet in you room, everything, just burn everything and that should fix the problem. Bed bugs are like glitter. Just when you think they are gone boom you see one. Anyway I'm done with that little rant. Um.... tell me what you think and if you want to be tagged. And um if I spelled things wrong or didn't grammar right tell me that too.

@thestressmademedoit

@abrx2002

@depressedrainbowcake

@myazael

[numba99]

Hate to Love You Part 7

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: You and Jimmy have never gotten along. To say you hated each other would be an understatement. But when a night at a party takes an unexpected turn, things between the two of you change forever. Word Count:2,804 yeehaw the longest part so far hope it was worth the wait

Warnings: smut and just again the family shit is all fictional and not reflective of what I think jimmy’s family is like okay ty

In the days following you post-game hook up with Jimmy you felt... surprisingly good. Maybe it was the little mantra you adopted or an extra dose of wishful thinking, but you felt you had a good handle on yours and Jimmy’s relationship. Using the term relationship very loosely, of course.

You felt so good, in fact, that you didn’t even bat an eye when Brady asked you to go out to dinner with him, Gracia, and Jimmy. Gracia was heading back to Minnesota tomorrow and she wanted to see everyone before she went home. You were more than happy to oblige, paying no mind to Jimmy being in attendance.

When you arrived at the restaurant, the hostess informed you part of your party was already there. You were excited to join Brady and Gracia, but that was not who you found at the table the waitress dropped you off at.

“Oh, it’s you,” Jimmy commented as you sat down across from him.

“Nice to see you too,” you grumbled, checking the time. You had been running late yourself, so Brady and Gracia were extra late. Brady was never late... well at least when he was with Gracia. Left to his own devices he’s been known to stroll in well beyond the agreed upon time, but with Gracia around they were always on time. An awkward silence fell between the two of you as you waited for your friends to arrive.God I hope they come soon.

Like clockwork, both of your phones went off. It was a message from Brady.

Hey guys so sorry. Gracia’s feeling really sick, we are going to have to cancel

You let out a groan. You traveled all the way across the city to get to this restaurant and you hadn’t bothered picking up any food for tonight since you planned on eating out. Trekking all the way back to your place just to be met by an empty fridge was not ideal.

You and Jimmy looked up at each as if to say, ‘now what?’

“Fuck it,” Jimmy said finally, picking up a menu, “I’m hungry and I’m staying. Stay if you want.”

You picked up the menu, telling him, “I’m staying for the food, not the company.” Jimmy half grunted, before you both buried your heads into the menus. That made it easy, you had something to shield yourself from him. You were able to occupy yourself with reading the selection of food, making the silence slightly less awkward. However, the waitress eventually came, taking your orders and the menus along with them. With no barrier between the two of you, you were forced to look at each other.

You decided you weren’t about to sit an uncomfortable for an entire meal, but you had know idea what to say. Did you and Jimmy even have anything in common? You really didn’t know. You guessed that would be a good start...

“You know I really don’t know anything about you,” you said, settling back into your seat. You had a feeling it was going to be an interesting night.

“I think you made a point to not know anything about me,” Jimmy replied, raising a brow at you. Fair point.

“Maybe so,” you replied, “But now I am making a point to know.”

“And where is this sudden interest coming from?” he questioned, taking a sip of his water.

Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy. “I don’t know, figure I should know more than just the name of the person I’m hooking up with.”

“Didn’t seem to care that much about anything else in that closet,” Jimmy smirked. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it was too late to get your food to go.

“Maybe I don’t wanna just sit here in silence the whole night,” you snapped, “But if you’re gonna be a dick about it...”

“Alright, alright,” Jimmy put his hands up, “Just having some fun.” Clearly the two of you had very different definitions of fun. “What do you wanna know?”

You shrugged, “Whatever you think is important.”

“Hmm, well I went to Harv-”

“No,” you shook your head, “That I know.” Jimmy made sure everyone he met knew that, regardless of how much or little he liked them.

“A man can’t be proud of his accomplishments?” he questioned.

“He can, but this isn’t what you’re proud of it’s about you,” you reminded him, “What about your family?” You were still a little curious about him and his father. You knew Brady said it was like that a lot, but you were wondering just how bad it was. If he would even tell you.

“Well you met my dad,” he replied simply. You sensed he was guarded, which didn’t really surprise you. It seemed like a touchy subject and you weren’t exactly someone he had a history of confiding in.

“I wouldn’t exactly say met,” you said, “More like he grunted in my direction and then completely ignored me.”

“That’s as good as meeting him,” Jimmy sighed, “Better off keeping your distance from him. I wish I could.” Jimmy paused, almost like he surprised himself with his own words. “That probably sounds really shitty.”

“No I get it,” you shook your head, “I wouldn’t put my dad up for father of the year award either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well my parents divorced when I was really little,” you began, “Shortly after he started a new family and had more kids. I guess he was so busy being a father to them he forgot about his first child.” It felt kind of weird to be so personal with Jimmy, but it was also kind of natural. Maybe it was because he would understand the crappy dad struggle, but it was easy to open up to him about it, even if it was something you didn’t talk to most about.

“Sounds like an asshole,” Jimmy replied. From anyone else you would have thought it was just a half-assed response because they didn’t know what to say, but from Jimmy... it was comforting. It was sincere, you knew he understood.

“You got that right,” you sighed, reaching for your glass, “Here’s to surviving shitty dads.” Jimmy laughed, picking up his glass and clinking it against yours.

From there, the conversation flowed a lot more naturally. Who knew all it took was bad father figures to bring people together? You learned Jimmy was the oldest of three and was really close with his mom. The only thing he knew how to cook in any fashion was gingerbread cookies.

“Okay maybe I’m using the term cook loosely,” he chuckled at himself, “I help my mom put the ingredients together and mix for her. She says I’m the only one strong enough to give the batter the good mix it needs.”

“You lost me when you said you cook gingerbread cookies,” you told him, “You bake cookies not cook them.”

“Then they shouldn’t be called cookies,” Jimmy defended himself. “Besides, what really matters is the decorating contest we have after and I almost always win that.” You laughed, thinking of Jimmy extremely concentrated on piping icing onto a little gingerbread man.

You also learned more about his siblings and how his brother also playing hockey created one chaotic household. It created a rivalry that wasn’t always the healthiest - egged on by their dad surprise surprise- but they’ve calmed down since. Now they’re both just trying to help each other get better. It was also really sweet to hear him talk about his little sister, who he worried about being away at school.

“I just don’t want any douche bad guys messing with her.”

“So she should stay away from every guy like you?” you teased.

“Oh absolutely.”

You were also laughing a lot more than you thought you would. Jimmy was funny when he wasn’t being an ass. It was pretty easy to bounce off him, your sense of humor jiving really well. You even found your walls coming down a bit as you told him more about yourself. You think this was the longest you’ve ever talked to him with someone making a snide comment or an argument starting.

“Hope you enjoyed your date,” your waitress smiled, placing the check down.

“It’s not a date,” you both replied immediately. Your faces flushed red, the waitress laughing lightly and apologizing. An innocent comment, but it made the energy shift, injecting an awkwardness between the two of you that had finally dissipated. 

“Let’s go,” Jimmy huffed, tossing down money on the table. You both jumped up, making a beeline for the door. Once outside, you both turned to each other, hovering on the sidewalk. Not even the din of the city street could eat through the tense silence.

It sort of did feel like a date, at least right now it did. It was like he had walked you to your door after a night out and now you were both waiting for someone to make a move. You could practically feel the pull towards him, wondering how bad a kiss could be.

“Brady would be proud we didn’t kill each other,” you blurted out suddenly, trying to banish that thought from your mind.

“Your hand got close to that knife a few times, honestly it had me sweating,” Jimmy joked, though there was a hint of tenseness in his voice.

“Not to worry, if I was gonna kill you it wouldn’t be in public like that.” God what were you saying? He probably thought you sounded crazy… and since when did you care about how you sounded to Jimmy.

“So it would be a bad idea to ask you to come back to my place?” Jimmy asked. You eye him suspiciously. That was a trap, right? He wanted to see if you were interested in coming back with him so he could tease you about wanting to fuck him or something.

“Brady and Garcia...” your voice trailed off. It was the safest thing to say until you knew if he was for real.

“Gracia got a hotel room this time,” Jimmy told you, “Something about wanting some privacy from an annoying roommate?” A crooked smile played at his lips as he spoke.

“I know the struggle,” you chuckled. It got quiet again and you realized he was waiting for an answer. “Sure I’ll go back to your place... I’ve got nothing better to do.” You added the last part to not seem too eager.

“Pfft, I’m the best thing you could do,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him, “We’ll see about that.” Jimmy followed behind you and you were happy to not have to make conversation. What did two people who didn’t like each other talk about on their way to have sex with each other? You certainly didn’t know.

No feelings, just sex. No feeling, just sex.

You reminded yourself as the elevator climbed to Jimmy’s floor. You both kept your eyes forward, fidgeting anxiously as each floor passed. It was weird, you’d never planned to have sex before, it had always just happened. You were entering uncharted territory and you wondered if it would be different.

Your mind wasn’t able to wander too long, the second you were through the door Jimmy’s was pulling you on to him. Your lips crashed together, tripping over each other as you made your way to the bedroom. 

You fell to the bed on top of each other, hands slipping under each other’s shirts. The clothes came off quickly, piling up on the floor. His hand slid between your legs, rubbing at your still-clothed pussy. You could tell by the smirk on his face you were soaked through them.

“Been a while since I made you cum on my fingers,” he mused, sliding your underwear down your legs, “I seem to recall you enjoying that.”

“It was okay,” you voice strained as he ran a finger up your slit. He slipped a finger into you, relishing how your back arched at his touch. He pumped his fingers into you as you wriggled beneath him.

“That’s it baby, fuck my fingers,” Jimmy coaxed as you rolled your hips. It almost got past you that he called you baby. Almost. You decided to compartmentalize that and address it later - the pressure building between your legs making it too difficult to think of anything else anyway.

Your orgasm hit you seconds after his thumb found your clit. “Fuck,” you cried out, not expecting the pleasure that was suddenly lighting up every nerve ending in your body.

“As good as I remember,” Jimmy smirked, stepping back to rid himself of his own clothing. You rubbed your thighs together as you watched him strip down to his boxers, antsy to have him inside you.

Jimmy’s eyes locked on to yours, making your stomach do a flip. A sudden wave of anxiety rushed over you. God the way he was looking at you, it was different. It felt weird, but right, yet also so wrong. His fingertips ghosting across your thighs was just too... intimate. Like yes sex was an intimate act in general, but it was just... too much. You weren’t like that with Jimmy. You couldn’t be like that with Jimmy.

You flipped yourself over, getting on your hands and knees. “Take me like this,” you demanded, wiggling your ass at him. You wanted the least romance as possible.

Jimmy didn’t seem to mind. “Oh- fuck - yeah okay.” You heard him rummaging behind you, presumably for a condom, before you felt the bed sink under the weight of his body. The head of his cock teased at your entrance, coating himself in your wetness.

“Don’t fucking tease,” you hissed as the throbbing between your legs grew to be near unbearable. 

“Needy one tonight,” he replied, his hands finding your hips.

“Oh,” you let out a low gasp as Jimmy pushed inside you. The new angle allowed him to press deeper into you, making your eyes roll back even after just a few strokes.

“God you feel so fucking good right now,” Jimmy groaned between the slaps of your hips meeting.

“Harder,” you told, ignoring that sort of compliment from Jimmy. That was a rarity from him and you didn’t want to play into it too much. A compliment was too close to intimate. 

Suddenly there was a hand in your hair, yanking your head back. You let out a sharp moan as Jimmy followed your instructions, pounding into you. “You like when I fuck you liked this? You want me to be rough with you?” he growled nipping at your ear. That’s definitely not romantic and it’s perfect.

“Yeah - fuck- give it to me Jimmy,” you moaned, pressing back on him further. He gripped your hips tighter and you could practically feel the bruises forming. The two of you fell silent, the sound of your wetness as Jimmy fucked your filling the room. It was borderline pornographic sounding but it was so hot.

You were close, but you needed more. You reached back, rubbing fast circles over your clit. “Are you touching yourself? Fuck that’s so hot,” Jimmy said breathlessly. 

You couldn’t even get a response out, hit with a second orgasm. All your muscles tensed before relaxing in a euphoric release. You gripped his sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as he fucked you through your high. Jimmy was right there with you, his cock twitching inside you as he came.

Jimmy slid out of you when you both finished and you let out a soft gasp from the loss of contact. He got up to toss the condom away and you began to shift through the clothes on the floor, looking for yours. Jimmy pulled on sweats and a tee, flopping down on the bed as you got redressed.

“Stay,” his voice was so soft you almost didn’t hear it. You turned around, finding a very sleepy Jimmy batting his eyes at you. Did he really just... That was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Yet there you were, pulling your jeans back off, leaving you in just your underwear and the shirt you came in. You crawled into bead next to him, the warmth of his body slightly putting your nerves at ease. This is wrong, you thought, but god it feels right.

“Y/n?” Jimmy murmured from behind you. He scooted closer to you, becoming your big spoon.

“Yeah?” you replied, not looking back at him.

“I..” his voice trailed off and for a second you thought he had fallen asleep, “I hate you still.” You couldn’t help but laugh lightly as your stomach filled with butterflies. It was stupid, but the way he said it, the pure fondness in the tone of his voice told you that isn’t what he meant.

“I hate you too,” you repeated the contrary sentiment clear in your voice. Jimmy’s arms tightened around you as you both drifted to sleep without another word.

[rainbowglittr]

Senior Year Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Jesse? You're back? How are you feeling?" I said. I was at my locker and I saw Jesse walking down the hall.

"Yeah I'm back. I'm alright, been better, been worst." He said, standing in front of me.

"Aww, Jess, your face." I reached for his face. I could see faded bruises all over his face. One eye darker than the other. From far away I couldn't see them.

"It's fine! I'm fine." He said turning his head away.

"Jesse, why didn't you tell me?"

"Getting jumped was not something I wanted to talk about."

"Jesse."

"Jaleia."

The bell rang.

"I don't like seeing you like this." I said, shutting my locker.

"Well, I don't like looking like this." he said.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"What's up, scarface?" I heard Tyler shout at Jesse as soon as he entered the gym.

"Fuck off."

"Aww, scarface is angry, should've told that to your face. "

" Leave me alone, alright?"

"Yo, he do look like scarface. "

"Damn son, look at your face. Don't you know how to block anything?"

"He got beat like a bitch."

"That's cause he is one. "

We were in gym, when some guys saw Jesse's face for the first time since he came back. Tyler was loving their horrendously insensitive comments. I could see and hear him egging on everyone as they made fun of Jesse.

"Have you all not seen bruises before?" Kiara said, hoping to spare Jesse.

"Nah, that nigga look fucked up. "

"Face look like a fruit smoothie. "

"Kiara it's fine. " said Jesse.

"Yeah let him fight his own battles. Actually you might need her help with that."

All of the guys laughed. Jesse roled his eyes and walked away. Today we were playing volleyball. I got put on a different side than Tyler and Jesse. Kiara was on my side. We looked as Tyler repeatedly spiked the ball on Jesse. Insults were hurled back and forth. By the end of the game the whole class was calling Jesse scarface. When Tyler left the locker room I grabbed him by the arm and said,

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What?"

"Why do you have to humiliate him?"

"He tried to do that to me by kissing my girlfriend."

"You're being petty."

"You're being annoying."

"You're unbelievable. "

"When you stop being little Jesse's bodyguard, let me know." He said walking away from me. I wish I knew what was wrong with him.

*>>>>>>*

Jesse's POV

I sighed before I walked through the door. This had been one of the worst days of my life, who knew what kind of mood Shaun would be in? I walked through the front door and then I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. My brother had punched me. I fell backwards into the door and on the floor, causing me to cough, I reached for the inhaler. Just as I was putting it to my mouth my brother kicked my hand. I started wheezing. Ever since I had pneumonia, I had asthma and it was expected that it would go away but for now I had an inhaler to deal with the symptoms.

"Hey Jess. " he said as he picked up my inhaler.

"Shaun please." I wheezed at him feeling my chest get tighter and tighter.

"Please. You sound like a bitch. Beg for it like the little bitch you are."

"Shaun please. I need it. Come on" My chest got impossibly tighter. Shaun leaned over me, looking in digust.

"You know I wish you and Diana switched places, because I would enjoy watching you die. You're a disappointment to me and Diana. Go kill yourself." He said as he threw my inhaler across the hall and walked away. My chest was on fire and I could barely get air into my lungs as I crawled to it. I was shaking as I got it to my lips. After a few pumps I could breathe again. Shaun walked by me and said "Damn, still alive."

"I hate you."

"Trust me, you can't hate me than I hate you." He walked out and slammed the door. I got off the floor still shaky and dizzy. I went up the stairs into my room and, I lost it. I threw stuff around my room. I hit things, I lost it. My mind kept repeating all the things Tyler and everyone at school said to me and my brother and my family. Around and around spinning like a tornado. I started to feel my chest get tight again. I couldn't find my inhaler. I started frantically looking for it, tears rolling down my face faster and faster before I dropped down in the corner of my room wheezing. I just wanted to give up. Suddenly my door opened, I tried to jump up and wipe my face but my lungs burned and I fell down again. So I grabbed to shirt closest to me and wiped my face.

"Jesse?" I heard Ciara say.

"Here" I pushed out. I really couldn't breathe much longer.

"Oh my God! Jesse! Here, take this." She handed me my inhaler and put her arms around me. She pulled my head into her chest and rubbed my back. Once my breathing stabilized she asked me, "what's wrong?".

"I'm fine now." I said.

"No Jess, you're really not. You don't cry unless something's really wrong. I know you."

"I'm not crying. It's just Diana, and school stuff, and Shaun. I'll be fine. "

"Jesse, I'm not going to judge you, I want to help you. You're my little brother. I know I haven't been the best sister to you, and I'm sorry. I was going through my own shit. I took a lot of it out on you and that wasn't right to put on you. I'm so sorry. I love you. But by going through my own shit I know what needing help looks like. So please, let me help you."

"You know dad didn't notice I got beat up?"

"He didn't?"

"No, he said 'I don't really care about you being sick, my energy has to be on Diana. You'll be fine. Tyler thinks I kissed his girlfriend. And Shaun hates me. C?"

"Yeah Jess," she said, looking at me.

"Why me?"

>>>>>*>>>>>>>>>>*>>>>>>>>>>*>>>>>

Ciara's Pov

"SHAUN!" I screamed. I clutched the plastic bat in my hand. I heard his foot steps coming closer. I saw Shaun walking up to me eating a sandwich. I hit his hand as hard as I could with the bat, the sandwich falling out of his hand. Shouting profanities at me.

"What did you do to Jesse?"

"Did he fucking squeal?"

"No, he didn't, " I said hitting Shaun again. "But I need to know why Jesse thinks you hate him. "

"I didn't do anything!" He said. I hit him harder, again and again. He tried to run but I tripped him and hit him on the ground.

"Stop fucking doing that!" He said trying to shield himself.

"Stop lying to me."

"Fine! We got into a fight." I got off him.

"Okay what else?" He got up dusting off his clothes.

"Nothing! We both told each other we hated each other. No big deal, brother stuff. No need to try and kill me with a bat."

"It's a bat, it's plastic so cut the dramatics."

"You hit hard." He stuck his tongue out and started to walk away. I knew something was off with him though and I was gonna get to the bottom of it with one question.

"Where's Anna?" He stopped in his tracks and turned to face me.

"She ah, we ahh,- it didn't work out. "

"She broke up with you today?"

"Yeah. So?"

"I'm sorry. But if you think that it's okay to take your girlfriend breaking up with you out on our brother, you got it fucked up."

"So you're his bodyguard now? Well I didn't take it out on him. He came home acting like a dick, so I handled it. "

"You and I both know that's not what happened. But my suggestion is that you stop using our brother as target practice. Cause I'm willing to tell a lot of things you don't know I know to mom and dad. And I will let them know what you're doing to him."

"You don't scare me. Especially when I've done nothing wrong. We just don't get along. Oil and water, coke and mentos."

"I'm going to protect him Shaun. You can't keep doing this to him."

"What am I doing? What's am I doing that's so bad? And don't act like you're Ms. Angel because the only reason you're doing this is your own guilt! Not for Jesse's sake but for your own."

"Unlike you I've taken responsibility for what I've done, I've changed. But keep messing with our brother and you'll see a side of me you don't like."

"Fine, I'll leave him alone. But he needs to toughen up. You can't be his body guard forever. I'm not gonna have a bitch as a brother. "

"You can't be his bully forever. He's not a bitch, he may be more passive but he's not a bitch. Blow steam doing something constructive, like a job or actually passing your classes. Yeah I know about you getting fired and being on academic probation. I also know that mom and dad don't know. I know that you need to get it together. And I also know of someone who wants to help you."

"I don't need help. I can do it by myself. I'm fine."

"Okay, no job, almost kicked out of school, and no real friends. I'll make sure to keep my phone on loud. I gotta go so I can make it to school on time. Bye brother! Love you." I said as I walked out the door. I heard the lock click. It's a tough job but someone's got to do it.

>>>>>>>>>>>*>>>>>>*>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Jaleia's POV

"I don't want to go. I don't have anyone to go with, which I'm okay with it's just that. Homecoming was fun enough, this Sweethearts dance, it doesn't have the same appeal to me." I said. We were talking about the upcoming Valentine's Day dance. This year I just didn't see the point in going. It's only really fun if you have a date. And my prospects were like zero.

"You really don't want to go?" Jesse asked.

"No, it seems like it'll be boring."

"We'll make it interesting. Just come it's the last cheesy valentines dance we'll ever go to." Kiara said.

"Whatever. Sure why not? But if I get bored I'm leaving."

"Great I'm sure we'll have a smashing time." Said Kiara.

"Hey guys what's up?" Robyn said as she sat down with us.

"Oh my gosh she exists!!" Get out your camera there are rumors that they only come out once a week." I said with fake excitement. It's been a while since we've seen Robyn because she's been so absorbed by Kyle.

"Very funny Jaleia. However I've got some news did you know that Rachael heard that Mariah is cheating on Tyler?"

"Tell me something I don't know! I caught her." I said rolling my eyes.

"Well did you also know that she also heard that Tyler's parents are splitting up? Apparently they've had some huge blow up and now they might split."

"How does she know that?" Kiara asked.

"Apparently Tyler told Mariah and she overheard Mariah telling that girl Savannah."

"The same airheads who tried to pick a fight with me?" I asked curious.

"Yup. Might explain why he's suddenly gone crazy." Said Robyn.

"Doesn't make it okay." Said Jesse scoffing.

"We know that. But at least there's a reason for his jerkface behavior. But to be honest, I'm done dealing with it. If he doesn't get his shit together, I'm not dealing with him anymore." Kiara said.

"I've been fucking done. He can kiss my fucking ass." Said Jesse.

"Jess-"

"Seriously, he's not the only person in the world going through shit." Robyn said.

"I know, I get it. You can't force him to accept help. I just feel bad, cause you know he never deals with anything." As soon as I said that one of the cafeteria doors burst open. Tyler stumbled through to our table.

"Sup bey-otch!" He said with sunglasses on.

"What is wrong with you? Are you drunk?" I asked in disbelief.

"Nah, I'm fucking high as FUCK! Did you knew that Mariah can suck like a fucking pro?"

A collective groan of disgust followed his comment.

"TMI, for real! Come on!" Said Robyn.

"Don't be such babies. Suck-"

"Shut up Tyler! No one wants to hear about that." Kiara said.

"Maybe you and Jesse might and maybe Kiara cause y'all ain't getting any!" He said laughing.

"Go away Tyler! Seriously, I think I see Mariah over there!" Robyn lied.

"Oh shit, really bye!" He said, stumbling away.

"Yeah, on second thought, I'm pretty done with this." I said sipping my iced tea.

>>>>*>>>>>*>>>>>*>>>>>>*>>>>>*>>>

Finally done with this chapter! One

Of the longest! More drama to come.....

[the-stick-scribblers]

The Womb

Crime is up five hundred percent since the Academy opened The Womb.

Twenty years ago, some newish academics who were still in their first century and therefore still hopeful, published a groundbreaking study on crime. They said the problem was simple: people committed crimes because somewhere in their past or current reality, they lacked security and love. Becoming a criminal was simply a call for help, too late. That part wasn't groundbreaking, but it bore repeating (and repeating, and repeating - hit the boring nail on the head, they did). Here's the important bit: they then asked what would happen if criminals could return to their childhoods and start from scratch, supported by the state? The ultimate rehabilitation program? 

Instead of prisons, they imagined a system of homes with specially trained and vetted "parents" to provide love; instead of cells, there would be small rooms they called nurseries filled with safely approved enrichment toys and lots of soft things for squeezing; there would still be community service opportunities and classes and career preparation, but capital punishment was firmly nixed.

It hinged on some pretty wild de-aging technology, but once they'd made the proposal it was only a couple of years before the tech caught up and then it was all hands-on deck "for the future of all children" and other such meaningless shit. There were some modifications - the cells are simply called rooms instead of nurseries, for example - but when they rolled out The Womb it was pretty much as presented.

Let's say you commit a crime. It's a little one, like maybe you didn't pay a traffic ticket, or some dick egged your apartment and you told them where they could shove it in front of the wrong soccer mom. The judge says hey, okay, that wasn't very good. But it was probably just a little lesson you forgot to learn along the way that led you to your Mistake, so you're sentenced to be de-aged a year and you're given a counselor who's supposed to help guide you onto a better path this time around.

But let's say the crime is bigger. You threw a major party and then drove drunk and high on heroin and ran over someone's dog. You commit armed robbery. Someone got seriously hurt, repeatedly. A guidance counselor for a year isn't going to cut it, so that's when the jury steps in and tries to figure out where your life went wrong. Was it at sixteen the first time you shoplifted and got away with it? At ten, when your teacher told you your work would never be any good? At eight, when your mom started working three jobs because she was suddenly raising you alone? And then you get zapped back to the pivotal age and placed in The Womb so you can be Reborn.

Somehow in all their planning the academics and the politicians forgot to bank on the allure of avoiding all those five hundred-year-old wrinkles and arthritis for a couple hundred extra years. Most people when they hit four hundred rob a bank at fake-gunpoint. That's the biggest crime that's least likely to get them killed rather than de-aged. That, or they get involved in some sort of tax fraud scheme. What's losing access to a couple million when you're going to die soon anyway? A second chance at life has got to be worth at least that.

The worst offenders get de-aged all the way back to babies, but that doesn't happen very often. It can seriously shorten your life if you end up a repeat offender, and anyway raising babies is more resource-intensive than the other kids. You have to kill a whole lot of people in a whole lot of lives to make it worth the parents' time.

The years you de-age get borrowed off the end of your life. As long as you avoid any more Mistakes, you get those years back and get to live out your original life span in full, with the bonus of a second childhood thrown in. But if you make another Mistake, you lose them forever, and have to live with it. That's how come I've only got two years left to take over the world.

I have been twelve years-old seven times. The last time I was Reborn, I'd made it all the way to age three hundred and fifty before I made another Mistake.

"You gonna eat that?"

We Reborn may have to use our manners, but for some reason the Womb Workers are exempt.

I sit up straight, elbows off the table, and look at my pudding. "My spoon is dirty."

They pick up the spoon, squint at it, rub it on their apron, then return it to the table. "You going to eat that now?"

The pudding looks delicious, actually, full of real chocolate shavings and cherry jam and cream liquor. If I let myself look at it any longer, I might cave. So I look at the Worker instead. They look like they could use some prune juice.

"This spoon is dirty. I would like a new spoon." 

The Worker opens their mouth, probably to tell me where I can shove the spoon, when Ren interrupts in a tiny voice, "You've got to say please."

This is Ren's second time Reborn. She's six years old now. When she was twenty-one she was sent back for planting an eco-bomb, and for again stealing an entire corporate farm when she was ninety. She's got an impressive file; we could be a good team eventually. I like her. But, regretfully, I no longer have the time.

"Please," I say, and smile real sweet.

The Worker takes the spoon from my hand with a measured precision that means they would much rather stab me with it, and give a little bow.

"Tell Jeremy he needs to pay more attention; the spoon was dirty!" I holler after them after they've passed into the kitchen, to everyone else at the table's disapproval.

Because this is my seventh time in The Womb, I've been placed in a high-security house, with experienced Grandparents rather than normal Parents and bars on all the windows under the cheerful blue and yellow curtains. I've also only got five siblings rather than the usual nine; Ren is the littlest, and Matthew is the oldest at seventeen. The rest of us hover around the dining room table in the throws of those terrible years right on the cusp of puberty, and we've all got the lanky self-awareness to match. Really, the jury should have forgiven me the second they realized my pivotal moment was at twelve, or at least written me off as a lost cause. What preteen doesn't want to take over the world? How was living through that desire again and again supposed to make me desire it any less? But we've established the establishment isn't very smart about the details of redemption. They just want to Save the Children, or at least look enough like they are to appeal to the constituents a couple times a year. Statistics to the contrary are handily swept aside as anti-love.

Everyone here has taken a wood chipper to someone else's moral fabric, most more than once. Even the Grandparents have been Reborn once each, although they won't tell me how come. Just that it's part of the job requirement, so they can relate to where we're at on our journeys or something disgustingly syrupy like that. I'll miss them the least.

The Womb Worker reappears at my left elbow. Another little bow, definitely sarcastic this time, and then they hold out a silvered fork. "Jeremy says all the spoons are dirty, but he offered an extra fork. The pudding is thick; this should serve just as well."

Finally. I accept the fork and dig in with an admirably restrained glee, I think. The pudding tastes sweeter knowing that it will be my last meal in this place.

Jeremy is old hat, been with the place since it opened basically, and is the only Worker authorized to visit every Home because he's worked his way up from day cook to Head of the Households. The first time I met him (on accident, during a poorly planned slip during my first sentence, involving a new bouquet of flowers every day until the home was buried in chrysanthemums and little baby's daisies and Womb Workers had to come and confiscate them all) he told me about his First Home, in Libya. It's taboo to talk about First Homes, not because it's illegal or anything or even really frowned upon. It just makes people sad. But Jeremy smiled as he told me about the fried dates and bsisa, the ironic wetlands and sprawling steppes and the big sky full of birds over everything all the time, the migrations. About the little lizards, the way they sashayed when he chased them down the streets. He made me forget almost everything and believe I'd grown up in Libya too. I volunteered for kitchen duty every night after in hopes he'd be that night's cook.

He climbed the ladder and I followed behind him to each new role, begging for stories about Libya, and about The Womb too, since he knows everything there is to know about it. Including, of course, how to get out. It wasn't hard to bribe him. Just two more rebirths of a little bit of smiling, a little bit of begging, and I've now had six life cycles to practice my hand at money laundering. Jeremy is four hundred and ninety-five this year. It's time for him to bail.

The pudding is gone too soon, and I lick my lips and immediately wish I had some Vasoline. They’re dry, and they sting. "I'm not feeling well. May I please be excused?"

Ren's tiny face looks doubtful and a couple of the other kids look intrigued, but Grandnanna is a warm, benevolent rock. "Do you need me to grab a basket?"

"I don't think so. I think I just need to lie down."

"Let me feel your head."

"It's my stomach," I protest, but go to her nonetheless. I'm up from the table, which means I'm almost in the clear.

She puts the back of her hand against my forehead and cheeks, then turns to rattle in the credenza behind her seat at the head of the table. "Richard, can you grab me the thermometer please? I forgot I moved it to the study when that cough went around last month."

"I'm kind of dizzy. I just want to lie down." I cross my arms and hunch my shoulders and do my best to turn excitement into flush agitation. Grandnanna (what a laugh; she's younger than me by a century, at least) purses her lips.

Then she steps back, and sighs. Good for her – she’s learned how to pick her battles. Probably why she’s still only been reborn once. "Grab a clean towel from the cupboard on your way up."

I finished my part of our plan this morning - digging out each of the security features in the home and bypassing them with a wire or a code I custom-wrote before my latest de-age debacle. The bars are just a formality now. But that's the most I could do on my own. It was up to Jeremy to arrange the rest - reaching out to my old contacts, setting up the weekend lecture series, making sure the Grandparents are out, finding a Sitter with enough moral ambiguity to agree to pack their overnight stuff in over-large luggage and to not ask questions. It was a lot of work, and he hasn’t said it but he’s going to negotiate for a better cut once we're free and clear. At least fifty percent. That's a cliché, but it’s fine. I can do those too. Not everyone makes it to five hundred. There won't be any questions when he’s never heard from again.

The corridor to my room is lined with photos doctored to look original, of the seven of us in this home, and each door has an initial painted in well-meaning green that comes off as military in the dim light. I dutifully grab a towel from the closet and go to my room, draping the towel over my pillow and curling up under the fluffy comforter. Once I bust out there will be no niceties, at least for a couple of months. Definitely no pudding. I close my eyes and sink into the bed. I dream myself a feast.

~D.E. Scevers

[octrainisms]

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 62: What makes you happy?

Octavio: Well……. Geez, um… What makes me happy is my friends. My hombres and chicas and others. They are my family, man. Can’t live without them…. That and cat videos. Perfect. As for the other question…. Man, I think it does, but it’s hard to say really. It’s a kick in the teeth when it happens, but it puts you right. I reunited with Ajay because of my choice leading to such an outcome.

I will answer with no cut because this wall of text needs to be seen without unneeded diverts. Pardon the pizza fingers and emotional typos.

For those who don’t know, I, the mun, Alex, have gone through hell. I was bullied my whole life - even to this day actually - and was kicked down every chance my parents got, telling me my dreams, hopes, aspirations and life choices were the worst (Um hi yes my mom did things that weren’t technically legal so fight me lady).

I have been coerced, tricked, manipulated and down right forced to believe that the r word I will not say, was okay, because I am born a woman and should like it when men do things to my body. For six years I ate once a day for two reasons. One, my mother told me I wasn’t really hungry until it hurt. And two, because everyone called me ugly and fat, the usual (I was borderline anorexic).

I see myself as male, with the unfortunate mutation to make my body female. And because of everything, I have so many issues mentally, ranging from extreme suicidal tendencies to PTSD to anxiety and depression. But the one thing my brain did, is give me Borderline Personality Disorder. Unlike Disassociative Identity Disorder, I know what is happening when all but one personality comes out, I know what is real, not real and so on (bar my PTSD outbursts). I have survived attempted murder four times (three were in one fucking day boy howdy I hate water now).

I got out of an abusive relationship and into a new one more times than I wish to say and was ready to end it all. I had everything set up to be as clean as possible so minimal work for others coming through and had my plan. My personality, Kiel who was born from my pride, convinced me to write a post detailing the death of my muse at the time.

‘What do you have to lose?’

And so I did, then proceeded to write a novel of a goodbye letter. Before posting, he told me to open a new window. Again, those words rang out from his mouth. I let him open tumblr in a new tab, and see an ask. He pushes for me to click it, those same words a mantra by this point. I didn’t care, I just wanted to die and he was making me suffer.

‘Humour me. If it’s hate, then I will step back and let you do this. If it is anything else, you have to listen to me.’

What did I have to lose?

And so I opened my askbox to see one message from someone I adored but was terrified to message.

OMG SENPAI I HAVENT HEARD FROM YOU IN AGES HOW ARE YOU ARE YOU OKAY?!

It’s like she knew something was wrong.

Why do you care?

It was cold and cruel, a blunt sort of ‘fuck off’ that I could do when you have the Son of fucking Loki from your books nagging you to at least ask SOMETHING.

And here she is, the fucking angel that ran me over that I never saw coming;

Because you’re amazing and I love your writing and I really want to write with you and be your friend but I’m scared to do that because I don’t want to be a bother and I just have a feeling that something’s not okay. Please talk to me, I know I’m a random but if anything is wrong talk to me please.

I was floored, but the trickster burst into action, egging me on to talk to her. An hour later, I was smiling through tears.

Long story short, what he convinced me to do was buy a chocolate mud cake, eat it in one sitting, then vomit for six hours and hate his guts.

Oh, and that angel? She is my wife now, knows all 183 personalities in my head and loves me, as she said ‘dick or no dick’.

Long story short;

Yes. It all happens for a reason. Not because some higher power says so or anything silly like that. But without those moments of true agony I never would have found my family in my mind. I never would have gone to that web series, made that blog, found that angel and found peace in life again.

Do I have days where I wish I didn’t humour the trickster? Hell yeah.

But I reach out to people, something I was terrified of the first time I did it. I’ll ramble, or write a sad drabble. It’s nothing to be ashamed of at all.

It took me my whole life and one hell of a stubborn Canadian Angel for me to see that I am worth being alive, that I’m awesome and amazing and beautiful and perfect in my own way despite preaching it over and over for years for other people!

If I can be that rock for you, that pillar of hope, I damn well will be. It all happens for a reason, but you have to fight through it, humour that trickster itch of pride in you to see what is around the corner.

Doesn’t matter if a teacher tells you to kill yourself and that it’ll be a grace on humanity, doesn’t matter if that fucking douchebag of a kid calls you ugly, fat, weird, or a freak. Fucking stand up and be proud of it. If they tell you that you’re weird, say ‘yeah, duh dude, it’s kinda my thing’. If they call you fat say ‘at least I’m warm in the winter’. If they tell you you’re a freak, just smile creepily and say ‘we all float down here’.

Look in the mirror and be proud of what you see. Because you have made it this far, made it to this point, despite all the setbacks and chains around your body.

YOU ARE WORTH IT!

And don’t you dare give up, don’t you dare stay silent, be loud, be proud. You are unique and perfect in your own damn way, so when they knock you down, get back up. If they tell you to die, live in spite of their words.

One of my biggest bullies in school now works at a mcdonalds, twenty six and still with his mom, starting a family in her home rather than his own, and I know owning your own house is hard, but he called me fat, and now he is three times my own weight. I work in a shop where my co-workers are my family, where I feel safe and loved, where every day I am asked if I’m okay and everything.

I know it’s hard, I know it’s painful even, but it is worth it. Everything that hits you is worth pushing through. I lost six people to suicide throughout my life, and it takes its toll. I asked to nothing ‘can’t you see I miss you?’, but never really thought it about myself, and that’s the kicker. Words destroy people. I’d take broken bones any day. But also, I look to my past, I cry, sure, but I fucking smile.

Without all of that, I wouldn’t be thick skinned for my job, or able to help people from experience. I wouldn’t be proud of who I am if I never went through the moments of hating my very existence.

It all happens for a reason, and if you are still reading this, then take away six simple words from this;

Never give up; never give in

You are worth it, always worth it. Just remember that you’re still alive, and that you are perfect as you are. And that if you ever need a place to turn to, come here, where I, and the 183 others will remind you why living is only half as amazing with you in it.

[changesxnight]

1-50 Steve Randle for the the excessively detailed headcanons

What does their bedroom look like?- messy as hell- he never makes his bed - his desk is the only thing that’s organized because that’s where he does homework

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?- playing football with the gang is his favorite - the gang just does athleticy things at least twice a week- any day that it’s sunny, they’ll go out and do something

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?- the kitchen is never busy at his house - but if somehow his father was making dinner for himself of course, cause fuck Steve, Steve would just go out to eat or to the Curtises’ house

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) - the office at the DX is a mess, no thanks to Soda- so he tries to clean it up- he’s usually a tidy guy but laziness overpowers his will to clean - there’s a method to his madness - for example, his clothes aren’t in his closet but rather on a chair in his room but he’s meticulous about where the groceries and dishes go  

Eating habits and sample daily menu- he eats when he’s hungry - which is all the fucking time - he loves burgers and fries - will never admit how much he loves milkshakes

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time- he loves to go bowling with Dallas- and play pool. they’re both amazing at the game - if he’s not blowing off smoke with Soda, he’s messing around with Two-Bit and/or Dallas

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging - milkshakes - he doesn’t care about indulging. he works too damn hard to not treat himself well

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?- he lives with Dick Randle - what do you think - Evie thinks he’s mentally ill but he doesn’t wanna hear it - “I already knows there’s something wrong with me” “Steve, that’s not what I said!” “but it’s what you meant, isn’t it?” - half the gang is traumatized by their parents’ actions can you guess which three

Intellectual pursuits?- he wanted to join the math club but didn’t cause the gang would never let him hear the end of it- could totally go to college but didn’t have the money - he’s insanely smart and would win the spelling bee or geography bee if he wasn’t so ashamed of being smart - he’s a genius. but he’s a greaser. those two things shouldn’t go together, as his father would tell him. so Steve’s always kept his intelligence a secret - teachers hate this though because he’ll get As on his homework and then randomly choose answers on the test and end up with a C

Favorite book genre?- he loves to read, surprise surprise - like Soda has almost caught him with a book at the DX a million times - like now, Steve just reads with the owner’s manual in front so it looks like he’s reading about cars - Soda’s like “hey buddy…what ya doin’? you know everything about cars, more than I do.”- he prefers non-fiction or really old stories - Mythology and lore are his favorites

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?- a closeted bisexual - he doesn’t have a problem with anyone who doesn’t cause him harm so if someone’s gay and a decent human being, he’s fine with them

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) - his nose is chronically broken - he’s allergic to crying, jerks and bullshit

Biggest and smallest short term goal?- biggest: win a game of chess against Ponyboy because the cocky son of a bitch…- smallest: doing inventory. it’s so boring

Biggest and smallest long term goal?- biggest: own his own auto body shop. or marry Evie - smallest: get through high school. it’s easy but it’s taking forever. senior year sucks  

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress- clad in denim 24/7- if he’s not in jeans, he’s not Steve Randle - he doesn’t mind his uniform. he wears it proudly because he’s paid to do what he loves

Favorite beverage?- we all know he loves beer - but he also loves coffee

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?- he thinks of Evie and of his mother. would they’ve gotten along? of course they would’ve. would Dad be a different man if Lily died and Mom lived? what would life be like with his sister? what would life be like with his mom? - the “what if"s torture him

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?- if he got sick, his father wouldn’t take care of him - so he tried his damnedest to not get sick- he’d get colds on purpose cause he knew he could defeat them- but let’s say strep throats was going around school. he’d avoid everyone like the plague. he doesn’t have that kinda money to buy antibiotics

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?- turn ons: confidence, standing up for what you believe in, musicians, just Evelyn Green in general… - turn offs: nothing this horndog will find anything sexy

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?- he’d probably start doodling - or write a love letter to Evie because he loves her more than words can say. xxx ooo xxx

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?- he’s actually very organized- he couldn’t stand a mess but he got used to messiness since Soda can’t keep anything in one place

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?- he loves history - he’s amazing at math shh don’t tell anyone - and of course, English class

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?- at 17, he wants to be married to Evie by 25. she’s the love of his life - again, he wants to have his own auto body repair shop that he shares with Soda- he wants to be stable and away from his father. maybe even emancipated from his dad

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?- marry Evie - open up his own auto repair shop- have a family and be a good dad- be financially stable - die happy

What is their biggest regret?- after years of his father convincing him he killed his sister, he regrets that- as he gets older, he regrets not applying himself in school- he’s very smart and pays attention. he does his homework but never hands it in. he aces his tests but because he doesn’t do his homework, he averages out with a C

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?- Soda is clearly his best friend- aside from him, I think Two is his other best friend - he’s his own worst enemy

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)- if Evie is there, he gets her out - if a dog is there, he gets them out - if Ponyboy is there, he gets them out - basically, he makes sure that everyone is safe before he worries about himself

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)- numbness and drinking to keep the numb feeling - he just loses it - angry and fighting - he can’t process his emotions

Most prized possession?- either his switchblade or his car

Thoughts on material possessions in general?- he’s not very religious so he doesn’t have that “why gain the whole world and lose your soul” mentality- he’d love to be rich. never have to worry about money or paying bills or anything - he isn’t a hoarder but he definitely has possessions he couldn’t live without and doesn’t see any harm in it

Concept of home and family? - if it weren’t for the gang and Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, he wouldn’t know what family is - Evie is where he feels at home

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)- with Soda or Dallas or Two, he gives too much information - around people he doesn’t fully trust, he barely gives any information out at all

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?- like Dallas, he loves to bowl and play pool- he considers homework a waste of time so he doesn’t do it - he doesn’t consider reading a waste of time, per se, but he loves it and won’t ever admit it

What makes them feel guilty?- thinking about his mother and sister- it’s my fault. I fucked up. I didn’t protect them. - his father is an evil, twisted man that can’t take responsibility and now Steve is more mentally fucked up than anyone could ever believe

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?- he tries to be analytical, thinking of Soda, Evie and the rest of the gang - he doesn’t do anything too stupid because he doesn’t want to die - but sometimes he’s impulsive and does what he wants in the moment

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? - type a- he takes his work very seriously, whether it’s for school or auto body repairs - he’s an organized leader, when given the chance - feels and fights violently and aggressively  

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?- sex- coffee - hot showers

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?- well after a lifetime of being told he’s a murderer, Steve hates himself - but he also hates his father - he hates being oppressed by Socs and wants to fight back (and does)

How misanthropic are they? - he only truly hates his father and Socs

Hobbies?- aside from cars cause that isn’t all Steve does - he’s on the football team - he loves to go fishing and bowling with Dallas - badass at pool, taught by Dallas Winston himself - pulling pranks with Soda is the best - he’s a champ at beer pong

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?- he loves going to school and he loves to learn. but he hates the peer pressure, he hates the stress and he hates the judgement - he’s learned a lot on his own and from his friends; he has to, he’s a greaser.

Religion?- introduced to Christianity by the Curtises - but after Mom and Dad 2 died, he’s been losing his faith - now he’s just angry at God and doesn’t know what to do- and when he reads the Old Testament, it seems like there isn’t a single thing he and God can agree on

Superstitions or views on the occult?- claims he’s not superstitious but totally is - except he picks and chooses which he follows and when it’s convenient - stays away from black cats but walks under ladders like it’s no big deal

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?- deeds, for sure- when it comes to the people he loves, especially Evie, he can’t form a coherent sentence while making eye contact - so he writes what he truly means - and shows how he feels through actions

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?- a hardworking, loving woman. he wants someone who’s earned what they have and they stand up for themselves. a woman who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or her voice heard. someone who isn’t too dependent or easily offended. a strong woman who’s been through some shit and is understanding- so Evelyn Rose Green

How do they express love?- aggressively and passionately - he’ll take Evie out on random dates, either it’s a romantic candle lit dinner at his place or just stare gazing in the back of his truck - he writes the most beautiful love letters - when he’s scared, he’ll try to act tougher. so when he senses danger, his grip on Evie’s hand gets tighter

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?- he’s always fighting, let’s be honest - it’s the only way he’ll feel anything

- he’s an honest greaser and he fights fair- but he always wins - fighting gives him this kinda rush that just can’t be replaced - he’s stealthy and always makes sure that he knows the terrain and uses it to his advantage - he likes to get hyped up before a fight but not so that his senses are outta wack

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not? - he’s only afraid of dying because he’s got people to take care of - but he also knows that getting into a serious fight could end fatally- so he’s smart with who he fights and who he keeps his mouth shut around

[kakooshi]

Would You Like Some Tea In Your Cauldron?

Read on Ao3

Warning: Implied/Referenced Drug Use

Levi hated losing bets. He rarely ever lost courtesy of his dear uncle, but this year, all it took was his misplaced faith in a racehorse named “Jean” during the Qatar Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe for him to end up being at the mercy of the scheming, shitty, four-eyed freak known as Hange Zoe.

There had been a raffle draw, and Levi’s dare was to decorate his house for the Halloween season and give out some sweets to the trick-or-treaters.

It was better than what Erwin had done on Valentine’s a few years back, when he had to sniff the armpit of every man in the pub just because he revealed his hand too early (It was a historical event) to Mike. Hange still had photos of the event saved in their so-called “family album.”

The problem was that Levi wasn’t too keen on giving out the only sweets he had. Candy didn’t exactly come at a cheap price, and he definitely wasn’t going to spend his entire salary buying new ones to cater to some brats’ sugar rush.

There were tea-flavored candies sent to him as gifts from his Grandfather Ackerman, who had worked as an employee in a candy factory and had later run several teahouses in the country during his younger days.

While Levi was fond of tea, he wasn’t a fan of it being used as a candy flavour. Its taste was very faint and unusual to begin with; sweet but not exactly the ideal type of treat that the little ones would gobble down wholeheartedly and come back for greedily in the next spooky years to come.

The night of Halloween was relatively uneventful for the man as per usual. Even as a kid, he never experienced the thrill of egging some poor hag’s house, or screaming his throat raw in one of those badly decorated third-rate horror booths, or even carving pumpkins and snatching wet apples with his mouth just for the hell of it.

Most importantly, he never had the luxury of preparing a costume…even until now. Hange encouragingly told him that he didn’t have to; he was already scary-looking enough.

“Ow!” Hange held their stomped foot, jumping up and down while Levi scoffed and took the basket of candy from them to place it on the breakfast nook.

The first few trick-or-treaters that came to Levi’s house were tame considering that they were under adult supervision. On the other hand, Levi secretly found it annoying how some parents, teachers, nannies, and even older siblings would apologize to him for the children they accompanied thinking that he looked like a serial killer from a textbook slasher. Was his appearance really that unsettling?

When he opened the door, basket in hand, a little girl in a pink, fairy costume quailed in fright and went down the porch steps to hide behind her mother.

Guess there was no need for a well-thought out prank; his “pinch-me-and-I’ll-punch-you” expression already came in handy.

It was almost 9:00 pm, and the hoots of the owls could be heard in the distance. Levi was ready to remove all the decorations much to his chagrin, but just when he was about to store the remaining candy back in the cellar, something caught his ear.

“Eren, it’s almost late,” said a little girl’s voice. “Mom’s going to get really worried, you know.”

“Just one more house left!” someone replied doggedly. Yep. It was definitely a brat.

“If I recall, your father said not to trick-or-treat at 10 or more houses. You still have an appointment with him after all,” Not bratty. Also, the kid sounded smart for his age.

“One more bag of candy won’t hurt, Armin.” The footsteps got louder.

With a sigh, Levi turned away from the cellar with the candy still in his arms to meet his last trick-or-treaters for the night outside. Upon opening the door, the first thing he saw was a boy who looked to be about 7 or 8 years old. He was dressed as a dog…no, a werewolf, what with the puffy ears, fangs, and paws he wore for feet. The ruffled fur of his top matched the color of his hair.

On either side of him were a raven-haired girl and a blonde boy. The girl was dressed as a huntsman, a plastic axe by her side, and the boy a warlock. Together, they seemed to be quite the fairly strong bunch.

As if a flip had been switched, the wolf boy immediately perked up at Levi and flashed a wide grin, “Trick-or-treat!”

He was the first kid not to show signs of fear in front of him. How interesting.

The other two weren’t as enthusiastic. The girl stayed silent, though Levi could tell she was a little wary of him. Meanwhile, the blonde muttered the greeting with a nervous stutter, twiddling with the pouch he held while huddling up to the girl. Levi couldn’t blame him; his sunken eyes spoke for themselves.  

“You brats better be thankful I still haven’t cleared the Jack-o-Lanterns off my lawn,” Levi said tonelessly, stepping down the stairs while grabbing for a pack of candy.

“Our apologies, sir!” the blonde stammered. “If you’d like, we can leav—”

“Eren just wants some more candy, that’s all.” the girl interrupted.

“Guys!” shouted the wolf boy. Shaking his head in embarrassment, he looked back up to Levi again, holding up his cauldron treat bucket in a silent plea. “I just need one more for my secret stash, sir.”

“Your secret stash?”

“Yes,” The boy blushed before continuing, “My father’s a dentist so it’s not often that I get to eat lots of candy.”

The sourness from Levi’s expression dissolved and was replaced by sympathy.

“Well, I wouldn’t want your long journey to go to waste, would I? Here…”

Levi poured several pieces of candy into Eren’s bucket. He felt something twitch in his chest at the sight of the boy’s wide, green eyes gleaming in happiness. If he had a tail, Levi was sure it would be wagging by now.

“These are from Teas’ Time, aren’t they?” the wolf boy, Eren, asked excitedly.

He didn’t bother to wait for his answer and picked out a piece, tearing at the wrapper with his teeth with an alarming vigor. Levi raised a brow and made a confused face at the other two kids waiting patiently for their sugar-deprived friend.

“He always eats the candy after receiving it. That way, he’ll know which ones will become his favorites,” the blonde explained, as if reporting a scientific experiment.

“Tch,” Levi kneeled down to Eren’s level, “So, how does it taste?”

To his slight amazement, Eren seemed to be enjoying the candy judging from the pleased expression he wore; he hummed in answer: ‘It’s good!’

No, it’s not, really. Levi tried the candy for himself; it was certainly healthier than most sweets but it didn’t hold a candle to the likes of Kitkats, Snickers, or Twix candy bars. Hell, even that candy corn crap tasted better than the hard, circular disks currently making Eren’s eyes glaze over.

Then again, it was better than not having any at all.

“Huh,” Levi regarded him in kind, “The ones in your possession are Citrus green tea, by the way. You still have more flavors to try.”

Eren’s face fell, “Thank you, sir, but my Dad won’t let me have any more. They’ll ruin my teeth,” he pulled off his fangs to show Levi a crooked but clean set of them; no cavities in sight.

Well, that’s understandable. Levi stood up to bid the boy and his friends goodbye but the former stopped him with an exasperated “Wait!” before he could.

“Are you going to give out some more next Halloween?”

Levi weighed his choices. No, he didn’t want to do this again. God forbid his house get wrecked; he was already lucky not to have done much cleaning the first time save for the removal of decorations.

But one look at Eren’s puppy dog eyes compelled him to think differently. Yes, there was absolutely nothing unusual about inviting a child to trick-or-treat at his place when he was opposed to the very idea hours ago. Not at all.

“Shit’s expensive so one flavor for every year. Be sure to collect them all before you don’t have the balls to go trick-or-treating anymore,” He offered, ignoring the surprised gasps from the other two.

Eren looked about ready to bounce off the floorboards, fangs bared, “Thank you, Sir! I can’t wait!”

In a flash, the boy was down the front steps joining his friends, both relieved that the night was over. They all waved at Levi, departing into the streets with the autumn breeze ruffling their clothes. Eren in particular gave one last smile at him before digging in his pack to wolf down—excuse the pun—more of the sweets from his grabby little fingers.

For the first time that night, Levi’s lips quirked up a centimeter. Perhaps he ought to treat Hange out to see that science fiction horror film they were so crazy about.

For the next three years, Levi would leave some candy waiting in a mini black cauldron by the porch for little Eren to find. Since they were of premium quality (or so his grandfather claimed), each year promised a different flavor, and with every bite, Eren’s adoration for the maddeningly expensive stuff only grew.

Citrus green tea, green tea latte, classic iced tea, black tea…Levi could only go for so long until hearing his tea-obsessed relative sob happily from the other side of the phone at the news of someone genuinely enjoying his brand of candy.

His friends were just as happy at the news.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a faithful follower, Levi.” Erwin said one night over brandy.

“He’s just happy because he finally figured out a way to clear out his pantry,” Hange cackled. This earned them another well-placed stomp on the foot.

Levi had learned quite a lot about Eren too—like how his ears would turn red every time Levi asked him about his intake of sweets, or how passionate he was in his ramblings about anything other than the different candies he collected from the other houses. Levi’s favorite was the one where he and his two friends from before, Mikasa and Armin, reported some guys shoving their dicks inside carved pumpkins as part of some sick, twisted dare to the police and were given ten times the candy they had that day because of it.

“Levi, why have you never gone trick-or-treating?” a 12-year old Eren asked. He was perched on top of the red loveseat in his living room, Hogwarts robe pooling over the edges and glasses falling askew from the upside-down position he was in.

“My uncle never made me go. Juvenile delinquents used to put weed in candy bars back in the day, so he didn’t want to be responsible for my getting wasted,” Levi said as if commenting about the weather.

Eren’s flipped over in shock, “You can put drugs in candy?!”

“Yes, which is why you should be extra careful when receiving treats from strangers; even the most benign things can become the most dangerous when placed in the wrong hands.”

Levi found what he was looking for in the fridge—Chai tea. Eren’s favorite.

The boy in question nodded slowly in understanding, “No wonder Dad only let me trick-or-treat at my relatives’ place.”

“Hm.”

Eren’s eyes were fixated on Levi for quite a while. He propped his elbows on the sofa, chin resting above them as he sent the man a soft smile, his glasses sliding a little onto his nose to reveal bright green, mirthful and genuine.

“I trust you, though.”

Levi returned one of his own; he threw the candy at Eren, “Up until now, I’m still baffled by the fact that you didn’t piss yourself seeing my face for the first time.”

Eren laughed while unwrapping the foil. Popping the candy into his mouth, he gave a pleased hum, chewing slowly to savor the taste.

“Oh, I was pretty scared alright,” he spoke while he ate, “I thought you were going to whip out a scythe or whatever; complements the murderous look on your face and everything.”

“This coming from the kid who said he trusts me.”

Eren simply flicked his wand as if to ward him off, sticking his tongue out.

Eren didn’t come to Levi’s house the following year.

At first, Levi supposed it was because Eren had indeed grown up and was definitely too old to ever trick-or-treat again. Surely, his friends and family found it pretty strange for someone as adventurous and fun as him to spend the last few minutes of Halloween with an almost broke college student, and a grumpy one nonetheless.

But Levi knew Eren wasn’t the type to ditch friendships like that, although to be quite honest, Levi wasn’t exactly sure when he started considering Eren as his friend. Maybe the boy was just that likeable despite his tendency to be a little shit.

Eren had messaged him online 7 hours after Halloween Night ended. Suffice to say, Levi didn’t know whether to congratulate or pity the boy with the news he’d been given:

Brat: I got braces :/

Levi pondered a bit before typing out his message and pressing the send button.

Levi: Mashed potatoes and gravy, then?

The notification came faster than he could blink:

Brat: :D

Halloween couldn’t possibly be more hectic this time around. Levi’s dorm mates had invited him to participate in the new “Zombie Run” sponsored by his very own university; his fingers were still sore from when he punched the Walking Dead who had tried to cop a feel chasing him.

He was just about to nurse his knuckles with some ice packs when he heard the clicking of boots on his porch steps.

Levi was at the door in an instant; ice packs forgotten on the floor; he pulled it open to see tousled brown hair and vibrant green eyes.

It was Eren, now a teen, who had come to trick-or-treat at his doorstep for the first time in three years. And oh—

The boy’s getup was certainly….riveting. He wore a red button-up underneath a black military jacket with side seams that went below the waist, matching gloves and high-knee combat boots, and white pants accentuating his shapely legs…

Levi mentally smacked himself before taking in all of Eren’s costume. Speaking of legs, they were fitted with belt straps…no…Eren was actually wearing a harness, its unique pattern contrasting nicely with the red shirt and white pants. There was even a small leather skirt that Levi didn’t notice until later.

And shit, Levi now had to look up at his face because of how tall he’d gotten. It was kind of annoying.

Gone was the scruffy, werewolf boy from 7 years ago. Before him stood a sharply dressed cadet, an air of confidence and integrity about him. Tonight, Eren was a soldier…ready to fight on the frontlines; it was the best costume Levi had ever seen him in.

“Trick-or-treat,” Eren greeted. His voice was lower now, and his braces were gone too; there was only a set of perfectly straight and white teeth.

Eren whirled around, the long end of the jacket flowing behind him. Levi caught a glimpse of the insignia on his back, a white wing overlapping a blue one, “Do you like it?” he asked in a way more akin to a princess flaunting her ball gown.

Levi did a mock bow, “Why yes, Your Highness.”

The boy smirked before quickly pulling out dual blades from his sides (Where the fuck did they come from?). They looked pretty fucking sharp.

The older male raised his arms, whistling lowly, “At ease, soldier.”

Eren put the swords back in their hilts, “They’re ultrahard steel. Good for cutting flesh.”

The look Levi gave him was nothing short of incredulous.

Eren laughed, “Just kidding, these aren’t really made of metal, but they do make a good slashing sound!” He emphasized this with a wave, as if to cut Levi in half.

He didn’t want to know the rest of the details, “Aren’t you a little too old for trick-or-treating?”

“Levi, it’s 2017. If you’ve noticed, there are a lot of teenagers going from house to house for treats and no tricks, hopefully. All my friends are wearing the same costume I’m in.”

Levi wondered how many there were. He held back a snort at the idea of a bunch of High-School students in weird military attire (He still didn’t know the significance of the harness), marching along the streets and chanting roll-calls begging for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and Laffy Taffys.

Not wanting to waste the evening out in the windy cold, Levi turned to fetch what Eren had arrived for in the first place, “Citrus green or…”

Eren’s gloved hand on his shoulder stopped him in place.

“This is the last time I’m ever going trick-or-treating,” he paused, tightening his grip, “and I want you to come along this time.”

Levi looked over his shoulder, admittedly shocked despite his cool gaze.

“I don’t have a scythe and robe with me,” he still found within himself to joke.

There it was again, that life-expanding laugh. There was a glint in Eren’s eyes that Levi couldn’t place, and he felt a prickling sensation spread through his body from where Eren touched him.

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself. He’s still a kid after all, but you know you’re willing to buy him all the treats he could ever want in the world,’ said the nagging voice in his head.

“I’m also too old,” he added.

“Pshh, you don’t look that old to me,” Eren gestured to Levi’s height. Levi scowled and punched him in the arm, making him release a pained chuckle.

“Oh, and another thing…” Eren reached inside his jacket and pulled out a parcel; unwrapping it.

Inside was a jumbo pack of Matcha-Green Tea Kitkats.

“I bought them myself,” Eren said proudly, holding it up for Levi to see, “earned cash and all. I can guarantee that you won’t find any suspicious substances in them.”

Levi snickered. On the other hand, he couldn’t recall ever feeling such a strong surge of admiration.

“Thanks, kid.” He offered Eren one of his rare smiles.

Eren wasn’t finished with his surprises just yet. “Say, if I offer you this….” he flaunted the Kitkats in Levi’s face with one hand while the other went into his jacket again (God, how many stuff was he hiding in there?), bringing out a larger parcel. It was slightly open, but Levi’s eyes widened upon seeing the belt straps inside.

Levi reached out with careful fingers to pull the folds apart, revealing the costume—the same one Eren was wearing.

“…will you be our Captain for Halloween, Levi?”

Levi didn’t even realize he had nodded until he felt a pair of strong arms around him. This close, he could make out the faint smell of citrus; just like years ago. His cheeks were beginning to warm up so he gave a few awkward pats to Eren’s back and eventually pulled away from him.

“There’s only one problem to deal with, I guess.”

Eren’s body went stiff, “What is it?”

Levi grabbed the harness and the rest of the belt straps, holding them up in distaste.

“How the fuck do you put these on?”

[rainbowglittr]

Senior Year Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Jesse? You're back? How are you feeling?" I said. I was at my locker and I saw Jesse walking down the hall.

"Yeah I'm back. I'm alright, been better, been worst." He said, standing in front of me.

"Aww, Jess, your face." I reached for his face. I could see faded bruises all over his face. One eye darker than the other. From far away I couldn't see them.

"It's fine! I'm fine." He said turning his head away.

"Jesse, why didn't you tell me?"

"Getting jumped was not something I wanted to talk about."

"Jesse."

"Jaleia."

The bell rang.

"I don't like seeing you like this." I said, shutting my locker.

"Well, I don't like looking like this." he said.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"What's up, scarface?" I heard Tyler shout at Jesse as soon as he entered the gym.

"Fuck off."

"Aww, scarface is angry, should've told that to your face. "

" Leave me alone, alright?"

"Yo, he do look like scarface. "

"Damn son, look at your face. Don't you know how to block anything?"

"He got beat like a bitch."

"That's cause he is one. "

We were in gym, when some guys saw Jesse's face for the first time since he came back. Tyler was loving their horrendously insensitive comments. I could see and hear him egging on everyone as they made fun of Jesse.

"Have you all not seen bruises before?" Kiara said, hoping to spare Jesse.

"Nah, that nigga look fucked up. "

"Face look like a fruit smoothie. "

"Kiara it's fine. " said Jesse.

"Yeah let him fight his own battles. Actually you might need her help with that."

All of the guys laughed. Jesse roled his eyes and walked away. Today we were playing volleyball. I got put on a different side than Tyler and Jesse. Kiara was on my side. We looked as Tyler repeatedly spiked the ball on Jesse. Insults were hurled back and forth. By the end of the game the whole class was calling Jesse scarface. When Tyler left the locker room I grabbed him by the arm and said,

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What?"

"Why do you have to humiliate him?"

"He tried to do that to me by kissing my girlfriend."

"You're being petty."

"You're being annoying."

"You're unbelievable. "

"When you stop being little Jesse's bodyguard, let me know." He said walking away from me. I wish I knew what was wrong with him.

*>>>>>>*

Jesse's POV

I sighed before I walked through the door. This had been one of the worst days of my life, who knew what kind of mood Shaun would be in? I walked through the front door and then I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. My brother had punched me. I fell backwards into the door and on the floor, causing me to cough, I reached for the inhaler. Just as I was putting it to my mouth my brother kicked my hand. I started wheezing. Ever since I had pneumonia, I had asthma and it was expected that it would go away but for now I had an inhaler to deal with the symptoms.

"Hey Jess. " he said as he picked up my inhaler.

"Shaun please." I wheezed at him feeling my chest get tighter and tighter.

"Please. You sound like a bitch. Beg for it like the little bitch you are."

"Shaun please. I need it. Come on" My chest got impossibly tighter. Shaun leaned over me, looking in disgust.

"You know I wish you and Diana switched places, because I would enjoy watching you die. You're a disappointment to me and Diana. Go kill yourself." He said as he threw my inhaler across the hall and walked away. My chest was on fire and I could barely get air into my lungs as I crawled to it. I was shaking as I got it to my lips. After a few pumps I could breathe again. Shaun walked by me and said "Damn, still alive."

"I hate you."

"Trust me, you can't hate me than I hate you." He walked out and slammed the door. I got off the floor still shaky and dizzy. I went up the stairs into my room and, I lost it. I threw stuff around my room. I hit things, I lost it. My mind kept repeating all the things Tyler and everyone at school said to me and my brother and my family. Around and around spinning like a tornado. I started to feel my chest get tight again. I couldn't find my inhaler. I started frantically looking for it, tears rolling down my face faster and faster before I dropped down in the corner of my room wheezing. I just wanted to give up. Suddenly my door opened, I tried to jump up and wipe my face but my lungs burned and I fell down again. So I grabbed to shirt closest to me and wiped my face.

"Jesse?" I heard Ciara say.

"Here" I pushed out. I really couldn't breathe much longer.

"Oh my God! Jesse! Here, take this." She handed me my inhaler and put her arms around me. She pulled my head into her chest and rubbed my back. Once my breathing stabilized she asked me, "what's wrong?".

"I'm fine now." I said.

"No Jess, you're really not. You don't cry unless something's really wrong. I know you."

"I'm not crying. It's just Diana, and school stuff, and Shaun. I'll be fine. "

"Jesse, I'm not going to judge you, I want to help you. You're my little brother. I know I haven't been the best sister to you, and I'm sorry. I was going through my own shit. I took a lot of it out on you and that wasn't right to put on you. I'm so sorry. I love you. But by going through my own shit I know what needing help looks like. So please, let me help you."

"You know dad didn't notice I got beat up?"

"He didn't?"

"No, he said 'I don't really care about you being sick, my energy has to be on Diana. You'll be fine. Tyler thinks I kissed his girlfriend. And Shaun hates me. C?"

"Yeah Jess," she said, looking at me.

"Why me?"

>>>>>*>>>>>>>>>>*>>>>>>>>>>*>>>>>

Ciara's Pov

"SHAUN!" I screamed. I clutched the plastic bat in my hand. I heard his foot steps coming closer. I saw Shaun walking up to me eating a sandwich. I hit his hand as hard as I could with the bat, the sandwich falling out of his hand. Shouting profanities at me.

"What did you do to Jesse?"

"Did he fucking squeal?"

"No, he didn't, " I said hitting Shaun again. "But I need to know why Jesse thinks you hate him. "

"I didn't do anything!" He said. I hit him harder, again and again. He tried to run but I tripped him and hit him on the ground.

"Stop fucking doing that!" He said trying to shield himself.

"Stop lying to me."

"Fine! We got into a fight." I got off him.

"Okay what else?" He got up dusting off his clothes.

"Nothing! We both told each other we hated each other. No big deal, brother stuff. No need to try and kill me with a bat."

"It's a bat, it's plastic so cut the dramatics."

"You hit hard." He stuck his tongue out and started to walk away. I knew something was off with him though and I was gonna get to the bottom of it with one question.

"Where's Anna?" He stopped in his tracks and turned to face me.

"She ah, we ahh,- it didn't work out. "

"She broke up with you today?"

"Yeah. So?"

"I'm sorry. But if you think that it's okay to take your girlfriend breaking up with you out on our brother, you got it fucked up."

"So you're his bodyguard now? Well I didn't take it out on him. He came home acting like a dick, so I handled it. "

"You and I both know that's not what happened. But my suggestion is that you stop using our brother as target practice. Cause I'm willing to tell a lot of things you don't know I know to mom and dad. And I will let them know what you're doing to him."

"You don't scare me. Especially when I've done nothing wrong. We just don't get along. Oil and water, coke and mentos."

"I'm going to protect him Shaun. You can't keep doing this to him."

"What am I doing? What's am I doing that's so bad? And don't act like you're Ms. Angel because the only reason you're doing this is your own guilt! Not for Jesse's sake but for your own."

"Unlike you I've taken responsibility for what I've done, I've changed. But keep messing with our brother and you'll see a side of me you don't like."

"Fine, I'll leave him alone. But he needs to toughen up. You can't be his body guard forever. I'm not gonna have a bitch as a brother. "

"You can't be his bully forever. He's not a bitch, he may be more passive but he's not a bitch. Blow steam doing something constructive, like a job or actually passing your classes. Yeah I know about you getting fired and being on academic probation. I also know that mom and dad don't know. I know that you need to get it together. And I also know of someone who wants to help you."

"I don't need help. I can do it by myself. I'm fine."

"Okay, no job, almost kicked out of school, and no real friends. I'll make sure to keep my phone on loud. I gotta go so I can make it to school on time. Bye brother! Love you." I said as I walked out the door. I heard the lock click. It's a tough job but someone's got to do it.

>>>>>>>>>>>*>>>>>>*>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Jaleia's POV

"I don't want to go. I don't have anyone to go with, which I'm okay with it's just that. Homecoming was fun enough, this Sweethearts dance, it doesn't have the same appeal to me." I said. We were talking about the upcoming Valentine's Day dance. This year I just didn't see the point in going. It's only really fun if you have a date. And my prospects were like zero.

"You really don't want to go?" Jesse asked.

"No, it seems like it'll be boring."

"We'll make it interesting. Just come it's the last cheesy valentines dance we'll ever go to." Kiara said.

"Whatever. Sure why not? But if I get bored I'm leaving."

"Great I'm sure we'll have a smashing time." Said Kiara.

"Hey guys what's up?" Robyn said as she sat down with us.

"Oh my gosh she exists!!" Get out your camera there are rumors that they only come out once a week." I said with fake excitement. It's been a while since we've seen Robyn because she's been so absorbed by Kyle.

"Very funny Jaleia. However I've got some news did you know that Rachael heard that Mariah is cheating on Tyler?"

"Tell me something I don't know! I caught her." I said rolling my eyes.

"Well did you also know that she also heard that Tyler's parents are splitting up? Apparently they've had some huge blow up and now they might split."

"How does she know that?" Kiara asked.

"Apparently Tyler told Mariah and she overheard Mariah telling that girl Savannah."

"The same airheads who tried to pick a fight with me?" I asked curious.

"Yup. Might explain why he's suddenly gone crazy." Said Robyn.

"Doesn't make it okay." Said Jesse scoffing.

"We know that. But at least there's a reason for his jerkface behavior. But to be honest, I'm done dealing with it. If he doesn't get his shit together, I'm not dealing with him anymore." Kiara said.

"I've been fucking done. He can kiss my fucking ass." Said Jesse.

"Jess-"

"Seriously, he's not the only person in the world going through shit." Robyn said.

"I know, I get it. You can't force him to accept help. I just feel bad, cause you know he never deals with anything." As soon as I said that one of the cafeteria doors burst open. Tyler stumbled through to our table.

"Sup bey-otch!" He said with sunglasses on.

"What is wrong with you? Are you drunk?" I asked in disbelief.

"Nah, I'm fucking high as FUCK! Did you knew that Mariah can suck like a fucking pro?"

A collective groan of disgust followed his comment.

"TMI, for real! Come on!" Said Robyn.

"Don't be such babies. Suck-"

"Shut up Tyler! No one wants to hear about that." Kiara said.

"Maybe you and Jesse might and maybe Kiara cause y'all ain't getting any!" He said laughing.

"Go away Tyler! Seriously, I think I see Mariah over there!" Robyn lied.

"Oh shit, really bye!" He said, stumbling away.

"Yeah, on second thought, I'm pretty done with this." I said sipping my iced tea.