#i spent most of april on the verge of telling him to break up

[scorpion-flower]

Okay, confession time that's gonna make me sound like a shitty person, but on my trip from Catania back to Athens, I sat next to that lovely Canadian woman and her mother and we were chatting during the whole trip and we went out last night, and we went out tonight again (I was supposed to meet them for dinner, but I got to the wrong place and didn't get to meet the mother, but I still got to meet the young woman). There's a slight chance that we will meet tomorrow as well because she's leaving on Thursday, but I don't want to be that creepy person that always invites themselves.

And she's cute, funny and kind and I didn't know what got over me, but I didn't mention that I have a boyfriend, but I also assumed that she would not be interested anyway, because she mentioned past boyfriends and men she flirted with on her trip to Italy, and she's not gonna stay here for long anyway.

And because there was a miscommunication between the two of us and didn't meet her at the place she originally invited me to, and the messenger app wasn't working on my phone, I gave my FB password to my boyfriend and asked him to tell her to text me because I didn't have her number and couldn't reach her any other way. The boyfriend knows about her and how we met btw (he doesn't know that I think she's cute and hadn't tell her that I'm in a relationship tho, I know, shitty me.) It felt kinda weird asking him to log on my FB and text her, and he of course mentioned that he's my boyfriend, but I couldn't do anything else.

And when we actually saw each other tonight, one of the things the woman told me was "I thought that was weird because you didn't mention a boyfriend." but she said it in a way that I couldn't make sense of. I wonder if she was trying to figure out whether I wouldn't have made mention of it because the relationship is bad or because I had other things in mind. And then I thought "But what if she was actually interested? Now she'll never tell me."

I know I am a shitty person because I shouldn't be thinking this way. It's not fair for my boyfriend. I am probably overthinking things anyway and again, she'll be leaving on Thursday, so...

I don't know, I hope we stay in contact even as friends anyway because I really like her and feel that I want to preserve that personal relationship. I asked her if it's okay to message her on FB just to casually chat, and she said she's okay with it.

Yup, I'm definitely an idiot.

[mookie--jam]

Chapter 19 (Part 1): Black (Empty Canvas)

“Lola, thank God you made it”, Johnny shouts at me so his voice will be heard over the music booming through The Vogue. He gives me a quick hug, finding it much more important to sip his Vodka Cranberry at that moment.

“Of course I made, though it was a bitch to get in. Where’s Corrine?” I ask as I try to signal one of the bartenders in the hopes of getting a drink. 

“She’s still backstage with the guys, though she promised to come and watch the show here with us. So she’ll be here in a few minutes”, Johnny tells me and I nod in response as I order myself a rum and coke. Tonight is Mookie Blaylock’s second show ever. At first I didn’t want to come because every time I see Eddie it hurts like a motherfucker. But then Stone, Jeff and Mike kept telling me how excited they were for this gig. Mike even dropped by my job at the hotel to beg me to come to the gig. Apparently there’s a few guys from a record label in the crowd tonight interested in signing them. I couldn’t not come. That would make me a fucking horrible friend and I couldn’t do that to the guys. Also I still needed to thank Eddie for the flowers he sent me for my birthday. It had been two weeks and I hadn’t yet been able to muster up the courage to call him on the phone. I wonder if he’s okay. I hope his stage fright isn’t getting the best of him. 

“Are you okay Johnny? You seem awfully quiet today”, I tell after a few moments of silence spent between us, which is a very rare occurrence. He’s aggressively stirring around the ice in his cup with a straw.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to go to the doctor tomorrow for a routine check up, but I know he’ll have to take blood and I just hate fucking needles”, Johnny tells me, sounding traumatized by the thought of it alone. 

“Oh you big baby”, I chuckle and wrap an arm around his shoulders, gently squeezing the top of his arm.

“You’ll be fine, trust me”, I say and Johnny lets out a half whine besides me. I’m about to tell him that he doesn’t need to fucking worry but at that point Corrine appears in front of us and wraps her arms around both Johnny and I giving us a group hug. 

“Hey, how are the guys? Are they nervous?” I ask Corrine and even though I say guys, I only care about one name. I’ve seen the other perform at least a hundred times and they’re always fine. It’s Eddie that I worry about.

“Most of them are okay. You know the normal preshow jitters”, Corrine tells me and I already feel that something else is coming. 

“Eddie on the other hand. The poor guy is on the verge of a nervous break down”, Corrine tells me and my heart drops. 

“That’s why I’m here. I know you guys to be on speaking terms and the last time you were able to calm him down. There’s a lot riding on this performance and the other guys are getting worried, because he’s nearly catatonic. Would you just please go and talk to him”, she continues. She practically begging me. 

“Corrine, I don’t know…” I say. It could work and I could calm him down. Though the last time I did that was through kissing him, which isn’t and option now. But maybe I could be able to calm him down again. But maybe I could make him more stressed out and panicked than he already was. 

“Please, Lola, I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t necessary”, Coco says. I know I could calm him down, I just need to trust my instincts. 

“Okay, I’ll go. But I can’t promise anything”, I tell her and I start making my way through the crowd to get to the backstage. 

“You’re a saint”, I hear Corrine shout. I shake my head at her commentary and continue to push my way through the crowd at The Vogue. The place is packed to mass capacity and there a bunch more people outside trying to get in. Most of them are here for Alice in Chains, that’s a fact. But over the last few weeks the Seattle Music scene has been buzzing with talk about Mookie. They’ve been working on a project with Chris and it’s already set to release in April of next year. So everyone is really fucking curious. Also because some of the old Mother Love Bone and Green River fanbase didn’t hear in time about Mookie’s first show. So even though people are here mainly to see the Alice guys, there’s more than a little curiosity towards the Mookie guys. I eventually manage to get to the back stage door. 

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” a guy asks me as I open the door. I turn around to look at him, judging from his clothes he looks like he could be part of the security crew. 

“My name is Lola Carmichael. I’m here to see Eddie Vedder of Mookie Blaylock”, I tell the guy quite confidently. It’s something I picked up when I was dating Andy and needed to get backstage; just act like you belong her, because you do. So don’t be fucking nervous and stutter. The security guy however is not really having it. 

“Why haven’t I heard your name mentioned before?”, he asks me and I practically want to roll my eyes, because for a hot second I think I’m gonna have to explain the whole fucking situation between Eddie and I and why I need to get backstage, preferably before they have to go on stage. But I’m saved by someone pulling me through the half open stage door. 

“She belongs with us, it’s cool”, Stone tells the security guy who just shrugs, but I can’t help but give him a somewhat smug smile. Something along the lines of: told ya, motherfucker. 

“Thank God you came”, Stone tells me as soon as he closes the door. He wraps me up in a hug that nearly squishes all the air from my body. 

“You’re not the first one to say that tonight”, I mumble against his chest. Eventually he finally releases me from his grip and I’m able to breathe once again. 

“So, where is he?” I ask him, wanting to get down to business. Also because I’m worried for him. I need to know that he’s doing okay. Because when Andy couldn’t handle stress in the past, he reached for fucking dope and that’s not what I ever want Eddie to do. 

“He’s locked himself in the restroom”, Stone tells me sounding hopeless. I’ve been backstage at The Vogue before so I know where the restroom is. Without saying another word to Stone I make my way over to said restroom. I find Jeff in front of the door, softly knocking on it, though his voice isn’t exactly soft. 

“Ed, get the fuck out here”, he mutters angrily. I shake my head and push Jeff aside. Jeff gives me a surprised look.

“That’s not gonna fucking work. He’s never gonna get out of that restroom out of free will”, I tell him and I rummage through my black satchel bag for something that will help the situation. 

“Oh, and what do you intend to do then?” Jeff asks me. Oh Ament, you know me longer than today. you know I have a way of working around these things. Eventually I find a quarter at the bottom of my bag. I put it in the outside groove of the toilet door lock and turn it around, effectively unlocking the restroom door. I open it and give Jeff a look that says something along the lines of: I told you, never underestimate me. After that I close the door behind me and lock it again. I hear an aggravated moan from the outside, but decide to ignore it. The restroom is a bit bigger than a one person stall, but not much. Eddie is sitting on the toilet (thankfully he’s put down the seat and the cover and is very clearly using it as chair, rather than something else). He hasn’t even moved or flinched since I entered the room. 

I kneel down in front of him and take his hands, which are in his lap, in mine. I use my thumbs to stroke the back of his hands. 

“Eddie”, I softly say his name and nearly sigh out in relief when he slowly lifts his head to look at me. 

“Hey, are you okay?” I ask him, not knowing what else to ask him at this point. He stays quiet for a second and I’m worried that Corrine wasn’t exaggerating when she said that he was nearly catatonic. 

“Not really”, he eventually says. Good I’m making progress. My current plan of action is to keep asking him question so he’ll come out of his slightly catatonic state to then switch to a subject that always makes him happy and somewhat excited so that he’ll have the right energy to go on stage. 

“What’s the matter? Why are you so nervous?” I ask him, making sure to speak calmly and softly because the last thing I need is for him to have a panic attack. 

“There’s a lot riding on this show. There’s people from Epic records that are coming to see us, so it’s important we play well. And… I’m just scared to fuck up”, he tells me. I nod. I knew it was something along these lines. But I have a feeling there’s still some things that he’s holding back. But I know better than to try and get it from him all at once.

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you yet for those flowers you gave me on my birthday. They were absolutely beautiful. So thank you”, I tell him, trying to change the subject a bit and also because I really needed to thank him for them. 

“You liked them?” he asks me, somewhat shyly. It always confuses me when he acts shy around me. I thought we were past shyness, but I guess when we came to the conclusion that we could never be together that it set us back in our friendship as well. So Eddie sometimes is shy around me now. I don’t get why, but I do find it really endearing. 

“I loved them, thank you so much”, I tell him and I can’t help but lean over and give him a peck on his cheek as a sign of gratitude. He gives me a small smile.

“Come here”, he mutters, somewhat shyly, somewhat pleading and gestures to his lap. I’m in doubt  of about exactly 0.3 seconds before I oblige to his order and straddle his lap. I take his head in my hands and place a soft kiss on his forehead, stroking his hair in the process. Eddie wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer. For the first time in a long time I feel good again. Why does this always happen? Why do I feel incomplete until I’m in his arms again? 

“I’ve been such a fuck up lately. I just assume that this will go wrong as well”, he says, resting his head against my chest as I play with his hair. Oh my love, you weren’t the one to fuck up, I was. 

“Eddie, would you look at me?” I ask him and he slowly raises his head until his baby blues meet my eyes. 

“You’ll be fine. Because I’ve heard you sing many many times before and not once did you ever fuck up”, I tell him and I see a small smile form on his lips. Oh how I want to kiss him again.

“And if you get too nervous up there, just look in the crowd. Johnny, Corrine and I will be front row”, I continue. 

“But there’s also about 300 other people and the guys from the record company. Those are the ones that get on my nerves”, he says somewhat hopelessly. 

“Whenever it gets too much, just look at me. And imagine that you’re in the basement of the gallery, with just me there following rehearsal, like I’ve done before”, I try to reassure him. 

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything”, he eventually says and I give him a little smile. He’s out of his catatonic state and just seems really nervous now. But it’s the kind of nervousness that he should be able to handle. 

“Lola…” he says my name and is about to say something else when we’re interrupted by someone banging on the door. 

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE GET OUT OF THERE! WE NEED TO GO ON IN FIVE!” Jeff shouts from the other side of the door. We both turn our heads towards the door. Eddie lets out a sigh. 

“I guess it’s now or never”, he mutters and I turn my head back around to face him. I can’t help it, and tuck a strand of his hair behind his air. 

“You’ll be okay, right?” I ask him, now more nervous than he seems. He is such a talented musician and so are the other guys. The though that they might miss out on an opportunity like this is nerve wrecking. Eddie’s voice needs to be heard. Heard by more people than all clubs in Seattle could hold and this could be his shot. 

“I think so. And if I get too nervous I look for you in the crowd”, he says and I nod, shooting him another small smile. 

“I’ll be there”, I tell him. Jeff is still banging on the door. He really needs to get out of here. I get off his lap and he gets up from the toilet as well. I’m about to turn around and open the door when Eddie pulls me in tight for another hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close as well. Jeff is still knocking on the door. 

“Come one guys, this isn’t funny anymore”, Jeff says helplessly from the other side of the door. I gently force a bit more distance between Eddie and I, even though I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave his arms ever again. 

“Eddie, we have to go”, I tell him and I notice how dangerously close our lips are. One kiss and he’d be so much calmer already. But I can’t. We can’t. We’re not those people anymore. Eddie nods and loosens his grip on me completely. I turn around and open the restroom door. 

Jeff’s arms were still on automatic pilot and he could barely stop himself in time so he didn’t hit me in the face. 

“Finally”, he sighs out very much relieved. He gives Eddie a scolding look immediately, but stops it as soon as he sees the look on my face. We awkwardly stand there for a few seconds. The backstage has become more busy. People are running around, trying to find their instruments, tech guys running around with cords, the stage manager yelling that they have two more minutes. 

“Well, I’ll see you guys after the show”, I tell them and give Jeff a quick hug. I then turn to Eddie and pull him tight one last time, hoping to let him know that everything will be alright. 

“You’ll be great”, I whisper in his ear and before he can say anything in response, I remove myself from his arms and start making my way towards the backstage door again. 

I walk back into the crowd and soon enough I’m able to find Johnny and Corrine again. They’re front row already and I manage to snake my way through the crowd until I get to them. 

“And? Did it work?” Corrine asks me eager to know. Knowing her the suspense of it all has been killing her ever since I left for the backstage. She holding on to her her glass -what I assume to be rum and coke- for dear life. It’s surprising the thing hasn’t shattered under the pressure yet. 

“He’s talking now, so I guess I did something right”, I tell her as I squeeze in between her and Johnny to secure my place in the crowd. I promised him I’d be front row if he needed me, so here I am.

“God bless your beautiful soul”, she shouts out and wraps her arms around me so aggressively I nearly get tackled to the ground. 

“Corrine, you should thank her. Not fucking kill her”, Johnny tells her and I nod in agreement. He gives Corrine a push at her shoulder and eventually she does let me go. Why do I always take breathing for granted? Especially with the friends I have, who see near suffocation as a sign of affection. 

At that point we hear the mike switch on and the MC comes to to announce the guys. I hold my breath the moment they walk out on stage. Eddie is the last one to walk on. He seems okay, somewhat hesitant, but okay. He makes his way to the mike and looks around him, checking if the guys are ready. They all nod or give a thumbs up. Now it all lies in Eddie’s hands. His eyes are still screwed shut, but eventually he opens them and scans the first row. His eyes lock with mine and I give him a small wave. It’s just us in the rehearsal space of the gallery, or just you and me in bed when you used tot sing me to sleep. It’s just us.

“One, two, three…” he softly says into the mike and behind him the band begins the first tune. I recognize it as Release. I’ve heard them rehearse it many times. I recall when it was written. It was in the week that Eddie slept on the couch of the gallery. One day after rehearsal he came upstairs to quickly take a shower. I remember opening the door to see a puffy eyed and runny nosed Eddie on the other side. He told me it was nothing and I decided to let it go, not wanting to intrude. But after everything that he told me during Thanksgiving, the meaning of the song is so much clearer to me. If his dad could see him now, he’d be so fucking proud. By the end of the song there are tears in the corners of my eyes and I quickly wipe them away before anyone else can see them. 

After that they launch themselves into a setlist consisting out of uptempo, high energy songs. First Once, followed by Alive, Why Go, Even Flow, Alone and Porch. The set is going very well and Eddie is crawling more and more out his shell. There is more audacity in his voice and in his presence. He even manages to look into the crowd instead of keeping his eyes shut. Every now and then his eyes still find me and I give him some form of reassurance; wether it’s a smile or a thumbs up. 

“So… Uhm… This is our last song”, Eddie says after Porch. Honestly, I’m so sad their set is already over. I could watch them for hours and hours on end. The crowd isn’t too happy that it’s over already either. 

“But that means that Alice will be out in a few moments”, he continues and the crowd cheers. Knowing Jerry Cantrell, he’s probably grinning ear to ear back stage right now. 

“But we have one more song to go. It was written in a dark hour, hence the title Black”, and with those words the band kicks in behind him. I’ve never heard them play this before. I can immediately tell it’s a more slow song, and I’m excited. I love their high energy stuff, but in my humble opinion you can only get to know the core of an artist in their calmer works, where the emotions are able to come to the surface. 

I’m mesmerized by the beauty of his voice once again. I’m so entranced that I’m only vaguely listening to the lyrics. But then Johnny and Corrine start tapping my shoulders at the same time. They share a knowing look and I’m completely and utterly confused. What? I mouth at Corrine, not wanting my voice to was out Eddie’s.

“I think he wrote this about you”, Corrine says and a chill runs down my spine. What? That can’t be? Oh please don’t let it be so. But when Eddie gets to the final part of the song I know Corrine is right. 

“I know someday you'll have a beautiful life, I know you'll be a star in somebody else's sky. But why, why, why can't it be, can't it be mine?” Eddie sings and for the first time during the song he opens his eyes and they immediately find mine. The pain in his eyes knocks the wind out of me. 

They finish up the song and take their bows. In that moment I don’t think about what I do. I start to push my way through the crowd again. I hear Johnny and Corrine call my name, but I ignore them. The fastest way it is through the backstage and then through the emergency exit. I make my way to the backstage door. Luckily this time the security guy doesn’t stop me and lets me right through.

The moment I get into the backstage the Mookie guys are getting off stage. So I decide to make a run for it. 

I hear Stone shout my name but I just ignore him as I run around the labyrinth that is the backstage trying to find the emergency exit. 

Another person shouts my name. I know who it is. It’s the one person I can’t face right now. I can’t see him right now. I take a sharp turn around the corner and eventually see the emergency exit right in front of it. I push it open and run through it in one swift motion. Even though I’m impressed by my successful run so far, Eddie is by far faster. I’ve only been able to run a few yards when Eddie’s hand catches on my wrist, stopping me in my running and pulling me back. 

“What?” I shout at him, only to realize my voice is cracking because of tears. 

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 10 - Confessions

Summary: You start ignoring George, not knowing what to do. After he fails getting a straight answer from you, he decides to pour his heart out and he finally tells you how he feels

(I read the potion idea in a fic a long time ago, it gave me inspiration to this chapter and the whole series :) )

Warnings: Angst, few swearwords, Fluff, Fluff, Fluff

Word Count: 2.9K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

You woke up feeling miserable. After you opened your eyes you didn’t get up immediately; you just lay there, thinking through yesterday in every single detail. You decided to skip breakfast and George had detention today so if you’re smart enough you can avoid him all day. Get food from the kitchen, spend the day in the Room of Requiremnet. That’s it.

You felt guilty for planning on how to avoid George but you had no other choice. You had to think things through. You thought of yesterday’s Hogsmeade trip as a test and you felt like you’d got your answer. You had believed — or at least had hoped — that if something happened, it would be in Hogsmeade. You had spent a whole day together for God’s sake!

But nothing happened. You were talking, you had fun, drank a few butterbeers but nothing more. You were too scared to do anything — but you’d hoped he would do something. Kiss you. Or just hold your hand. Anything. Yeah, you were messing around the snow but that was just a game. A stupid game. A small voice of hope in your head said, ‘But he was calling you all those names. Darling. Love. What was that?’

A horrible thought started forming in your mind. What if — what if he was just teasing you? He didn’t mean it, of course he didn’t mean it. Why would he? He probably has pet names for all the people he talks to. He was just making fun of you. Would that be it? Was he just playing around, not caring about how much it hurts you? How much his wordplays hurt you? Was this just a joke to him?

Well, it didn’t really matter at this point. He hadn’t confessed anything to you. Fred  had misinterpreted a lot of things, apparently. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter anymore. George had made his choice — did he even have to make one? You felt horrible, thinking about how you were longing for him and he might had never thought of you as more than a friend.

You were on the verge of crying, but you stood your ground against your tears. Instead, you took some deep breaths. You musn’t let things go out of control. You still have your exams. You have to focus on those. You do your best. You will study in every free minute you have, write your exams perfectly, and over the summer you forget about the ginger boy.

Over the summer. The sentence made your heart ache. You closed your eyes. Every spring was like a torture to you. As the weather started getting better and better, the inevitable summer ‘vacation’ was looming over you. After this year it was more horrible than ever. You didn’t want to go home — but you felt like you were also unable to stay here with George.

There was no other way — you had to distance yourself. Right now. It’s gonna be horrible. But in order to get over him, this was the only solution you had.

You spent the day in the Room as you planned — and then the day after, and the day after, and so on. First, George didn’t seem to notice; you were always pretending to be in a hurry, only talking a few words with him at every meal, running to your next class. But as the second week of April had ended, he seemed to be a bit more persuasive.

“Come on, Y/N” he said one day at lunch. “I barely see you. Do you wanna go to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, eating as fast as possible. “I am lagging behind. I need to study.”

“Then go up to the astronomy tower again? Just for an hour?”

“Sorry,” you said, this time more quietly. You locked eyes with Fred who had a very disapproving look on his face.

“You’re avoiding him!” he said one day when he caught you after Charms. “He’s a mess! Driving me crazy, seeing him like that! He thinks he messed up something.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I have a thousand things to attend to. I have my own life, Fred.”

“At least talk to him, tell him something. Don’t you see he feels horrible?”

Of course you could see it. George seemed hurt. You were hurt, too. Every time you rejected his invitations to somewhere, you saw him break a little. He looked just like how you felt.

And then one day, he had enough. You were studying under a tree by the lake when a shadow appeared on the grass next to you. You looked up and your stomach shrinked into a small ball at the sight of him.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I sit?”

Should you just run away? You put down your books and said a quiet ‘sure’.

He sat down next to you, watching your face. You couldn’t look him in the eye.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good,” you said. “Bit tired. Studying a lot.”

“Mm,” he said, nodding. Then suddenly you heard the saddest, most miserable voice. “Why do you hate me?”

You jerked your head towards him. You were stunned.

“I don’t hate you.”

He had the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Then what is it? Because you haven’t talked to me in three weeks.”

“George…I… I can’t.”

He nodded.

“It’s killing me.”

You pressed your lips together tight before answering.

“You’re using such big words.”

“That’s how I feel.”

When you didn’t answer, he continued.

“Please tell me if I did something.”

You kept quiet.

“Did I hurt you?”

Nothing.

“Did I make you feel bad somehow?”

Quiet.

“Y/N. Please. I miss you.”

“You didn’t do anything,” you blurted out. It was true, though, he didn’t do anything. But in terms of how he meant it, you had to keep him in the dark. Otherwise you’d have to tell him everything. “You didn’t do anything, okay? I have a lot on my mind lately. I have all these exams, and when I’m done with them I can pack my stuff and go back to my parents for another wonderful two months.”

“I told you, you can come to us any time.”

“That’s not the point, George.”

“I know,” he said. “The point is that you don’t see that we’re here for you. I am here for you. And you’re ignoring me, because somehow you decided that you don’t need friends anymore? How’s that? At least you could tell me why.”

“Can we talk about this later?”

“No, we can’t.”

He was right, though. It was not nice what you were doing to him. You sighed. At least you can make him suffer less.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “You’re right. I am ignoring you. I was. But it’s not your fault. It’s — it’s something I have to deal with by myself. I just — I cannot tell you what it is. Not now. Maybe later. One day I will tell you, I promise.

“Can I help you with it without knowing what it is?”

“No.”

“Does Fred know?”

You dodged the question.

“Ginny does.”

He nodded.

“Are you sure I haven’t done anything to you?”

Well, technically…

“Yes. You haven’t done anything.”

——

If the talk with George made you change anything about your new routine, it was that you were willing to spend more time in the common room now while studying. Even though you didn’t have another conversation since the lake, he seemed a bit more relaxed seeing you around. It’s been seven days since that day; you weren’t ignoring him anymore, but you still hadn’t made any progress on processing his absence that was about to come in the near future of your life.

You were just about to finish a Transfiguration essay and start a Divination one when you heard the unmistakable voices coming from the Fat Lady. You looked up and a second later the twins arrived. Fred sat down onto the table opposite you, holding a box in his hands, while George took the spot next to you on the couch.

“Do you have a minute?” George asked.

“For what?”

“It’s a new product,” said Fred with mischievous eyes. “We just tested it, but we need to make sure it’s working.”

“I don’t really have time for anything right now —,” you started, but Fred interrupted.

“It’ll only take a minute. Promise.”

You hesitated. George spoke very softly.

“Please.”

You sighed.

“Fine. But make it quick. I’m not joking.”

“Brilliant,” said Fred and opened the box. He took out a small vial with a wooden cork in it and gave it to you. “Here you go.”

You took it, not sure what you’re suppose to do.

“…Yes? What do you want me to do with this? Drink it?”

“No!” said George, panicking. “Open it. And smell it.”

“Why?” you asked, more suspicious by the second.

“We already tested it ourselves but we need a female’s opinion.”

Fred shrugged like it was no big deal, but you felt that something was up with the two. You looked at the pinkish liquid in the vial. As long as you don’t have to drink anything…

You opened the bottle and held it closer. The twins leaned closer eagerly. You snapped at them.

“What? What is it?”

“Just smell it, Y/N!” said Fred impatiently. “We don’t have all day!”

You shot a sharp look at him then smelled the liquid. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“It’s so familiar. What is this?”

“What would you say it is?” asked George.

You shook your head and smelled the pink stuff again. You just… you just couldn’t wrap your head around it. Was it like… Was it something like fire? But it somehow also reminded you of water. And… you also felt something else… like perfume… or… or…

Or cologne.

You almost dropped the vial as you held it far away from your nose.

“What?” said Fred with great anticipation. Then grinned. “Was it stinky?”

George shot an angry look at him but you didn’t see it. You were staring at the liquid. The pink liquid.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh, fucking hell.

“So?” asked George eagerly. “What do you feel?”

“No — nothing,” you lied. Very badly, actually.

“Don’t lie!” scolded you Fred. “What is it? What does it smell like?”

Oh, no. What should you say? What should you say?!

“I… I can’t,” you said. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” George looked taken aback. “What is it?”

“I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

You stood up without looking at them. You kept your head down as you hurried to the portrait, leaving the common room.

—— George was staring at the part of the couch you were just sitting. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t believe it. This cannot be happening.

“George?” asked Fred in a careful tone. “You’re okay?”

George didn’t answer, didn’t blink, even. He was just staring.

“George?”

Would it have been so hard? Giving an honest answer, putting him out of his misery?

“George, we can talk to her again when she comes back.”

He had enough. He had enough.

“Georgie…?”

George stood up, suddenly. He made up his mind. This was it. Months have passed. It was enough.

“I’m ending this bullshit, right now.”

And he ran.

——

You were leaving behind the corridors like an animal running for its life. You didn’t know what to do. This came out of the blue. Of course the twins did it again. And Fred! Fred knew! Was this just an evil game to them? And what should you say when they — oh, they certainly will — ask you again?

You needed air. You needed to be alone. You needed to get to someplace where you could think.

You headed towards the astronomy tower and ran up the stairs as fast as you could. You were out of breath by the time you reached the top. You opened the door and stepped outside and…

“George!” you yelled, looking at the panting boy standing in front of you. “How — ”

“Hello, love,” he said, a hand on his side. “Give me a minute, I just ran through the whole bloody castle.”

You were stunned. You couldn’t move. What the hell was going on?

“George, I really…” you paused before continuing. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did you smell me?” he said, standing up. He hesitated. “Or — or did you smell Fred?”

“Wh — what?!” you felt more outraged than emberrassed. “No, I didn’t smell Fred, what the hell?!

“Oh,” he said, breathing normally again. “Good. Was it me then?”

Oh, God. Oh, God, no. It’s over. He’s gonna find out. He already knows! Shit. Oh, shit!

“I… I am —”

“Cause I smelled you.”

First you didn’t even understand what he just said. Then your jaw dropped in confusion.

“Wh… what are you talking about?” your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He stepped closer, not taking his eyes off you for a second.

“I smelled the potion. We’ve been brewing it for a long time now. I know it works cause when I smelled it… it was like butterbeer. And vanilla, which I assume is your shampoo. Also that gummy candy you’re always eating. So… yeah. I wanted to tell you for so long, Y/N. I can’t take it anymore.”

You looked him in the eye, still unable to speak. Was he telling the truth? Was he playing with you? You had to make sure. Because if it was real…

“Are you…” a relieved smile appeared on your lips. “Are you serious?”

George casted down his eyes. He took both your hands and gently squeezed your fingers.

“Please, don’t laugh at me.”

You shook your head.

“No, I mean… this isn’t a joke, right? You’re telling the truth?”

“Why would I joke with this?”

“Just tell me.”

A sad smile appeared on his face. He started nervously rubbing your fingers. And he finally looked at you.

“I’m serious.”

You laughed.

“Alright, then.”

You let go of his hand but only to cup his cheeks. You pulled him down and pressed your lips on his. He let out a surprised moan. He froze for a second. Then he reached for you to welcome you in his arms, closed his eyes and completely melted into the kiss.

It was like all your troubles had faded away in a second. You kissed George with everything you were holding back for the last couple of months. Your heart was beating incredibly fast. He tasted so sweet. His lips were hot. He was holding you so close. You smelled his cologne again and you felt like you’re going mad. You wanted more of him, you needed him, and you couldn’t think of anything but his lips on yours and his hair between your fingers.

When you two pulled away, gasping for air, he rested his forehead on yours. He was panting and you were too. You couldn’t help but smile. You were gently stroking his cheek with your thumb, finally looking at him. He looked at you, dazed.

“Hi,” you said.

His eyes looked like melted chocolate. A smile was hiding in the corner of his lips. He softly brushed his nose against yours.

“Hi.”

You leaned towards him again, this time giving him a small peck on the lips. He was holding you strongly in his arms, making you feel goosebumps on your back. Your heart was really beating, maybe for the first time in your life. You heard your blood running wild in your ears.

“You know…” you said, whispering. He looked deeply in your eyes, drinking your words, “I want you to know I smelled you, too. I… I smelled fireworks and rain… and your cologne which also reminded me of the forest. I’m… I’m so mad for you. I have been for months.”

“What?” he said, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was so scared,” you gently tucked a lock of his long hair behind his ears. “I didn’t wanna loose you.”

“Witty, you wouldn’t have lost me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“I wanted to. Really. I was just an idiot. As Fred told me so.”

“Wait — Fred knew?”

“Yeah. He figured it out in a second.”

“He wasn’t lying then?”

“Lying?” he looked at you, confused. “Did he tell you?”

“He knew I liked you. He told me I should talk to you because it might end well.”

You looked at each other in disbelief. If you had just talked to each other months before…

“Well, I guess we have to make up for the time we lost,” he said, leaning closer again.

“You think so?” you asked teasingly.

“Mm,” he said and kissed you again, this time tenderly, like you were a flower that’s about to break. You smiled into the kiss and when he realized, he did too.

After his lips let go of yours, he leaned down and burried his face into your neck. He kissed you gently while still holding you close.

“George…” you said, whispering. You were stroking his hair. You had never felt more alive. He kissed your neck again, making you shiver.

“Do you wanna go to Hogsmeade with me — ?

“Yes…”

“— as my girlfriend?”

“…Yes.”

His mischievous smile returned. All that concern and hurt had disappeared from his face. His eyes were shining under the night sky. He placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose and said,

“Alright, then.”

[kaptain-k-pop]

[?] Days of K-ristmas: Day 6*

aka

The K-List: #15

*(if you have no idea what I'm talking abt with this "[?] Days of K-ristmas" thing the very longwinded explanation is here lmao)

She's In The Rain

The Rose

Okay okay, I know this is another title track, probably one of their most famous so everyone who knows about The Rose knows about this song already

But I wanna talk about it anyway bc this is my blog and I can do what I want it's a really important song for me that stuck with me from the first time I heard it and I just wanna gush about it and talk about that

So some of my moots who have followed me since before last April may know this story already because I mentioned it in a post at the time, but last spring I was in a really bad place. I was having a really stressful semester and going through a lot of inner conflict about my future. My roommate had moved out (not because of any conflict! She just wanted to live somewhere cheaper, which is valid!) meaning I was living alone in a two person dorm, which was actually really bad for my health because without anyone else around I wasn't taking good care of myself or my environment. My sleep '''''schedule''''' was non-existent and there were many times when I was pulling all nighters or skipping meals to work on things. My group of college friends had all moved off campus, so even when I did remember/make time to go eat in the student center I ate alone. The fact that I was so worried about school meant I never really made plans with those friends either because I was always beating myself up for not focusing enough on my coursework. I was pretty much completely isolating myself and I spent most of my time alone in my dorm -- which you may recall, I wasn't taking good care of -- and being in that environment only made me feel worse about myself. I felt so depressed and unproductive in such a messy place, but I couldn't make time to get my environment in order because I had coursework I needed to do... but I couldn't efficiently work on my coursework because I felt so depressed and unproductive in the environment I created and around and around (it's also really difficult for me to focus in public places/around other people because I get easily distracted, so I didn't really have a good place to work other than my dorm). My irl best friend (aka my main source of support and physical affection) and my family were 2 hours away and I was completely touch starved. And I rarely went home on the weekend or left my dorm at all because I felt like every moment I wasn't trying to be productive I was being lazy. Both my mental and physical health were absolute trash. And I knew I was in a bad place but I had no idea how to get myself out. I felt like I had no time or energy to take any major steps to improve my situation.

I went home for Easter break. Three days of focusing on family instead of school and acting like I wasn't spending the whole time worrying about all the stressful things I would have to deal with when I got back.

During my 2 hour drive back to school Monday night I was keeping myself company with my Spotify playlists as usual and eventually Spotify began playing me "recommended radio"

And it was at this time that I heard She's in The Rain for the very first time

My first thoughts were that it sounded like an amazing song, but even despite the language barrier I could tell that it was a very emotional song so I was thinking it might not be the best thing to listen to when I was already feeling so down

And then Woosung's voice in perfect English in the last verse:

"You wanna hurt yourself, I'll stay with you

You wanna make yourself go through the pain

It's better to be held than holding on"

completely struck me in the heart and I pulled over into the next gas station and cried.

I'm not in that same situation anymore and I've been taking steps since then to try to get myself to a better place and improve my health. And living at home now with my family (and my best friend living 5 minutes away) and not feeling so isolated anymore has been a huge part of that

Hearing those words that night really struck a chord with me. It is better to confide your troubles in people and to be vulnerable and let yourself be held by someone who cares about you than to be just trying to hold on all by yourself. And the way the last chorus changes from "She's in the rain" to "We're in the rain" is such a beautiful ending as well as a perfect metaphor. When you're struggling your friends can't always do anything to get you out of that situation no matter how much they want to. But they can be there to try to support you and stand in the rain with you so that you don't have to go through hard times all alone

(this post is so long now and it's mostly just been about me and not the song I'm sorry ajdjksla)

But I also just wanna say that this song is so beautiful! It's really a masterpiece imo

The way that it starts out with just the acoustic guitar and Woosung's voice is so simple and pretty (and I thought it was a violin but then I realized maybe it was the bass but I swear I hear violin too idk maybe it's in the backing track or something?? am I crazy? lmk) and then the drums and everything really coming in almost halfway through the song after the first verse??? 😔👌👌👌

One of the things I love about Korean songs in when the singer is able to convey the emotion of a song with their voice and make you feel despite the language barrier. Woosung has one of the best examples of this. His voice is so unique, just hearing it can tug at your heartstrings even if you don't actually know what the words he's saying mean (which also makes it a 1 hit KO when he DOES say something in English ajdjksla) the way his voice literally makes him sound like he's on the verge of tears throughout the whole song really enhances it so much

(Dojoon has such a pretty voice too!! It's been a while since I've head it since he didn't sing on RED and I've been listening to a lot of other groups but yeah after listening to this song again to pick out all the parts to put in this post I'm reminded of how good he sounds in it 😔🙏 bless)

So I'll try to just wrap it up now since I've talked a lot: The Rose is such a good band and this is such a good song and the lyrics are so beautiful (you should look up the full translation if you haven't!)

Okay. That's all. I love this song, and if you've read this far I love you!!!!

[sirkkasnow]

12 Finer Points Of Damage Control

Ao3 link

07/20/13-07/25/13 Saturday - Thursday

Stan didn’t say anything when he got home, because the slumber party crew had arrived and there were people underfoot everywhere. Clary coordinated dishwashing duties in the kitchen, passing silverware off to Candy and lifting plates out of Grenda’s towel as soon as they were dry. “Did you get dinner?” she asked as he stuck his head warily through the door. “We have leftovers.”

“Uh - I’ll wait until you guys’re done, thanks.” Mabel teetered atop a stepstool to put away glasses. She managed a shameless wink over Clary’s head. Pacifica sat at the kitchen table looking bored and vaguely hostile, fingertips busy flicking across her phone’s screen. “If you got a minute later, Clary, could we have a word?”

“You bet, Stan, I’ll come looking for you.”

There was really no time at all to talk. Clary chased after the four girls like a harried mother goose, hopping over Waddles when necessary. Stan could not believe the amount of chatter they generated - commentary on the guest list, the likely menu, Ford’s relative hotness - he winced at that one.

They spent a good hour in the living room huddled around Mabel’s phone, watching videos and arguing over the party soundtrack. Clary was pushing for classic tunes, forties and fifties stuff. “Lowest common denominator. Everyone can dance to that.”

“My grunkle’s got pretty light feet,” Mabel shot back. “Seventies or bust! Let’s give the old man a chance to strut his stuff!”

“Every time Stan struts his stuff, something gets broken.” Pacifica was leaning in, still looking a little bored but at least engaged. “Which might be fun to watch.”

Stan hovered within earshot for a little while, hoping Clary would pull herself free, but he gave up after one too many intense debates over boy bands. He’d have to wait them out. The cash was burning a hole in his pocket anyway. He stomped off to the old office, flicked on a lamp, cleared a space on the desk and buckled down to work.

He couldn’t really enjoy the whole process with the sense of impending doom winding tight in his chest. The old answering machine’s red light blinked angrily from across the room; he threw stuff at it - Gold Chains For Old Men from last April, a Lil’ Gideon promo t-shirt, a ratty coonskin cap he’d never repurposed - until something stuck and covered it up.

By the time he had the guest list and the cash bundled up and packed away in the safe it was well past midnight. Stan crept through the darkened house, reflexively avoiding all the creakiest spots in the floor. Dipper, he knew, was crashing on the study couch downstairs.

Indistinct girlish voices and the steady thump thump thump of muffled bass were still trickling under the kids’ door. The narrow line of light painted onto the floorboards was dim, at least, so things must be winding down by now. Stan paused and raised his hand to knock, then thought better of it and slunk off towards his own room.

He was on the verge of tucking himself in when he heard the soft creak of hinges down the hall. Cracking his door open a sliver revealed a bare glimpse of Clary tiptoeing out and downstairs in pajamas and kerchief. Eventually she returned with the plastic pitcher and a few old tumblers.

Stan just watched. She glanced over as she made to slip back in, spotting his silhouette against the faint light of his room, and with a tiny conspiratorial smile held a finger to her lips.

He closed the door, flopped flat on his back in bed, and stared at the ceiling that was too far away to actually see until he tumbled unwilling into restless sleep.

Come morning the yammering traffic of teenage girls throwing together a full-on Mabel-style breakfast was too much to bear. There wasn’t a chance in hell of extricating Clary from the chaos, so he headed straight for the museum.

Soos had rigged construction curtains across the space they’d blocked out. The ‘Coming Attraction!’ sign sported a cheerful, toothy, horned-and-winged weasel with wide cartoon eyes, probably Melody’s work.

Stan had argued for scaling the whole production down a little, but Soos had been adamant in his laid-back way. By hook or by crook it was going to be a walkthrough with hidden lighting, surround sound and special effects, whatever that meant.

He spent most of his time slathering black paint over the framework that had already gone in. The blackout shell that would eventually enclose it all would at least cover up any number of construction sins. Positioning marks for lights, showpieces and electronics got chalked in according to the elaborate plans he’d been handed.

Morning tours swung past his sheltered corner and Stan listened in pleased bemusement. There was already a snappy line of patter for the new exhibit. Soos had a gift for this - the style had changed but the appreciative giggling and gasps from his audience were familiar.

After all, Stan had fallen into the role. Soos had aspired to it.

It was easy to lose himself in the work for a couple of hours, but eventually his stomach’s vague grumble and the angle of sunlight through the windows warned him that he had other things to worry about. Soos stuck his head in between curtains and tapped at the framework. “Time for lunch, Mr. Pines! The girls have all gone home and I think Miss Clary’s got sandwiches made up.”

“Yeah, yeah, comin’.” Stan rubbed at a few flecks of black paint on his fingers and emerged squinting into the main room. “Sounds like a nice busy mornin’. Everythin’ all right with plans for the dance thing?”

Soos tugged a notepad out of his jacket. “Oh, yeah, we’re selling a ton of tickets! I guess they all saw your posters. Lots of messages came in last night. Took a while to get through them all before we opened up. And we had a bunch of people asking about dinner tickets?” He flipped a couple of pages while Stan cringed internally. “Yup, about fifteen of those. Couple more calls today, too, and a few people asking at the gift shop.”

“Uh. Yeah. About those. Didja get phone numbers an’ names?”

“Oh, sure. Looked like you settled on eighty-five bucks apiece for those, so that’s what we charged.”

“What you - Soos, did you actually sell them tickets?!”

Soos blinked. “Well, sure! I saw the envelope in the safe and that ticket book, so I figured you and Miss Clary worked something out. It’ll be one big party!”

“Sweet Moses.” Stan squeezed his eyes shut, slapped a hand to his brow, and started to pace. Surely there was still a way to contain the damage. “Okay. Okay, you got contact info, all we gotta do is call people - “

He swung around to look out across the exhibit space, spinning possibilities in his mind - reschedule, shift the venue, anything but issuing refunds. His focus flicked blankly from point to point, then settled on the woman standing with arms folded right behind the Sascrotch.

Ah, fuck.

“Stan,” Clary said gently. “May I have a moment of your time, please.” It wasn’t a question.

Stan held out a hand. Soos laid the notebook in his palm and backed away until he was out of her line of sight.

Clary turned and walked with measured strides through the museum and then the house until she’d arrived at the porch. Stan followed with feet dragging as though they were already encased in concrete.

She set hands to her hips and looked out into the distance - he wasn’t sure if she even saw the trees. As the silence drew out he thumbed through Soos’ notebook and mentally counted up tickets, arriving at a number large enough to make his stomach flip in delight and dread.

“The girls and I came up with a guest list of eighteen people,” Clary said at length. “Am I to understand that we are expecting more, now.”

Stan cleared his throat and launched in. “So, funny thing, I stopped off for a coffee down at Greasy’s an’ Susan’s the one who brought it up, since you’ve been lookin’ to get this whole thing organized for the last couple days, said you asked about cherry pie, good choice by the way - “

Not a word. Her fingers were drumming out a restless rhythm against the khaki of her shorts.

“So yeah. Yeah, people were startin’ to get the wrong idea ‘bout dance party tickets so I thought maybe we’d, y’know, sell some dinner tickets since they’re so hot on it, we’ll make enough - more than enough! - t’offset all the expenses an’ then at least we know who’s comin’, we don’t get a buncha people bustin’ in uninvited - “

“How many?”

He had a good head of steam up and had to fumble around for a second. “Uh - what?”

“How many tickets?” She hadn’t raised her voice but there was an edge in it like the wind of a January blizzard and he nearly shivered.

“Looks like about fifty - “

“Fifty!” Clary barked it out and turned to glare at him full on. Her face was pale, a hard spot of angry pink high in each cheek. “Stan, that’s seventy people. I can’t cook for seventy people out of the house, there is no damn way and the minute money’s involved you need a certified commercial kitchen! How in the hell - “

Stan knew he’d gone red in the face and hell if a direct challenge wasn’t making his temper start to flare a little, too. “Well - well, fine, we have Greasy’s make it all! We shuttle it up an’ make sure we have plenty of paper plates, no problem!”

Clary scoffed. “There is no way you didn’t sell this as a home-cooked meal from your very own resident lawyer.”

Okay, so she wasn’t entirely wrong. “No one’s gonna care about the food. They just wanna meet you - “

“So you’re telling me I make a decent roadside attraction?”

The last syllable rose and broke. She clapped a palm over her mouth. Stan looked at her, his jaw gone slack, a sharp little sting lodged in his chest. Tears of fury or frustration had welled up at the corners of her eyes and one made a break for it as she pulled a shaking breath.

“I need a minute,” she said, rough-edged.

“Clary. C’mon.” He reached out, hoping to lay a hand on her shoulder. She twitched away, then slipped past him with fluid ease, making no contact. In three long strides she’d thrown a leg over her bicycle. One foot found a pedal and she took off at speed down the path that’d eventually get her to town. “Oh, come on!”

Both of the kids clattered out onto the porch, standing to either side of him.

“Grunkle Stan?” Mabel looked up to him in wide-eyed concern. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”

“She forgot her helmet.” Dipper folded his hands, thumbs twirling awkward loops. “Uh, so the dinner thing got - bigger?”

Stan set a hand to his chin for a long moment, breathing through his fingers to steady himself.

“Yep,” he said. “She’s headin’ out to work on logistics an’ supplies an’ so on. We’ve only got a couple days to pull it all together, yeah?” Stan scraped up a smile and lightly patted Mabel’s hair. “You know how this town is, things get outta hand pretty quick. We’re all gonna have to pitch in, got it?”

Mabel looked on the verge of tears for a moment, then her back straightened and her jaw set in determination. “I don’t know what the heck just happened but we are gonna fix it. Right, Dipper?”

“Right, Mabel! Come on, we’ll go track her down!”

“Kids. No.” He shook his head when they looked up at him in surprise. “She wants peace an’ quiet, she gets peace an’ quiet.” Mabel looked briefly mulish, Dipper troubled, but he put on the stern look and eventually they nodded.

She didn’t reappear that afternoon. Stan did his best to stay busy with piecing the exhibit together, focused more sharply than usual in service of not thinking about anything else. He was genuinely starting to worry along towards dinnertime when his phone chimed with an incoming one-line message, then more in rapidfire sequence.

Rented out Greasy’s kitchen. Add’l food lined up. Updated menu. Pls send guest list when complete. Still need: tables & chairs, linens, serveware. Suggest asking McGucket. Manor might have garden party supplies.

Hesitant, Stan tapped in: You okay?

The reply was near instant. I’m fine. Will see you at dinner.

He’d about finished off the wiring, packing away tools and electrical tape, when Mabel came dashing in out of breath and yanked aside the construction curtain. “She’s back! C’mon, c’mon, you’ve gotta clean up!”

Ford had been on dinner duty that evening, which meant it was heavy on vegetables and light on anything interesting. Dipper and Mabel were buzzing around Clary. She looked freshly scrubbed, maybe a little drawn, tossing together a salad at the counter. Her head came up as Stan entered; she set down the dressing, marched right over and offered her right hand. “I apologize.”

Stan accepted her clasp immediately and squeezed in what he hoped was reassurance. “Hey. Ah, glad you’re all right, real sorry about the inconvenience an’ all.” Grateful though he was to see her, the smile she wore was surface-slight, her eyes cool.

“I’ve run fundraisers before. It’ll all be under control in a day or two.” Clary’s fingers slipped from his and she pivoted to collect the salad bowl. “All right, you lot! War council time! As you know we’re running the biggest party of the summer here at the Shack and I am going to need help from all of you.”

Ford dished up brown rice and poached salmon. Clary laid out the menu, jotted in several additions and got quite serious with Mabel about desserts, settling on ‘Fireworks Krispy Treats: They’ll Light Up Your Mouth!’ in addition to the cherry pies and lemon bars she’d apparently negotiated with Susan.

“You,” Clary said, pointing her pen at Stan. “Logistics. The exhibit and the seating are yours to manage. Remember that at this rate we may have to set up an outdoor dance floor. You,” indicating Ford, “please keep working on my car. I’m going to need both of you early on the morning of this thing to knock out the chicken.”

Stan watched the whole process with trepidation - she was a monster of efficiency and it was a far cry from the laid-back approach she’d been taking for the last couple days. “Yes ma’am.”

“We’ve got less than a week to knock this out of the park.” Clary took up her fork and saluted the table at large. “Let’s make this legendary.” She tucked briskly into her dinner and finished well before everyone else, dropping off her plate at the sink and ducking out of the kitchen before Stan could catch her.

It went like that for the entire following day. Clary disappeared before anyone was awake, communicating only in an endless series of texts. Most of those hit a broadcast group including Stan, Soos, Ford and the kids, friendly if brisk updates on the state of the picnic.

A few of them came only to Stan, and those were ...terse.

Status on tables etc?

Updates to guest count?

Pls keep any receipts for supplies. Will collect them later.

An argument about who was going to pay for what would be coming down the pike soon, he was sure of that.

Got time in the morning? he tapped in.

Working to clean Greasy’s kitchen up to code. Will probably finish tomorrow. A pause, then: Wouldn’t want to poison half the town.

Clary didn’t even make it back for dinner that night. When he went looking for her the next morning she was already gone, and her phone went unanswered. Stan lasted until just before lunchtime before pure frustration drove him to start working his way through local contacts to track her down.

“Greasy's diner - we have food!” That was Susan for sure, sounding slightly manic.

“Heeey, Susan. listen, is Miz Merrick down there? She headed out early this mornin' and I was wonderin' where she landed.”

“Oh, gosh yes!” Susan giggled against the background racket of customers. “You should've seen her. She's been hauling stuff out of that old walk-in fridge that I didn't even know existed! We've got some pretty weird specials for lunch, let me tell ya. She’s helping with the rush while she's stocking up all this stuff for the big picnic - ooooh, it's all going to be delicious! I can't wait!”

Stan squinted. “Wait, what, you're comin'?”

“Oh, sure! She traded me a ticket and got me the ingredients for all those pies!” Her cheerful tone dropped a little into rusty affection. “I can't wait to take a spin around the dance floor with you.” He thought that over, then shuddered faintly to himself.

“So, ah, she free to come to the phone? Guess she's set hers on silent or somethin'.”

“Gimme a minute, sweetie, i'll go check.” The rattle of industrial-grade china and indistinct conversation went on as she left the receiver on the counter, calling out towards the back of the place.

Eventually she wandered back. “Sorry, Stan, she's in the middle of juggling like eight trays of biscuits. Says she'll see you back at the Shack tonight.”

Stan propped himself against the wall and managed not to sigh. “All right, Susan, thanks. Glad she's gettin' out ahead of it all.”

“You bet, sugar. See ya in a couple days!”

He'd been too engrossed to notice company in the hallway, and when he glanced up glumly it was right at Mabel perched on the bottom step with Waddles leaning into her side. Stan jerked upright but she was already shaking a finger at him.

"Don't you give me that look, Grunkle Stan. She's too ‘busy’ - “ Biiiiiig air quotes around that one. “- to talk to you, right?"

“Ah - um - “ He juggled a couple of possible deflections, then shoved the phone in his pocket and looked at her in naked desperation. “I swear this is not what I meant to happen!”

Mabel heaved a theatrical sigh. “All right. This is something I can fix. Clary and I have an appointment with Soos' Abuelita tomorrow morning.” She waggled her eyebrows. “A secret appointment. When we get back at around lunchtime you better be ready to shake your moneymaker, got it?"

“Shake my what now?”

“You two are gonna host this thing, so you better dance. And since the spotlight's gonna be on you, you'd better be good! Everyone will be watching!”

Oh boy. He was probably a dead man walking as it was and this wasn’t gonna help.

“And that means,” Mabel said, cheerfully oblivious, “That you two need to practice. Don't worry. Mabel's on the case and I'll make it happen.” She zapped him with the finger-guns and shoved Waddles aside enough to get to her feet. “I'll let you know where you need to be and when. Make sure you’re tidy, okay?”

‘Where’ turned out to be the old storage room he’d converted to a ramshackle boxing ring, the ropes downed and folded up in a corner. ‘When’ was late morning the following day, and ‘what’ - well. That was answered when Mabel came in, dragging the karaoke machine in her wake. Clary stepped in right after, a bandana at her neck and another binding back her hair, bleach spatters dotting her old t-shirt.

Stan stuffed hands in his pockets and rolled his shoulders back, doing his level best to meet her eyes without a twinge of guilt - because, come on, they were going to make a ton of money on this picnic thing - and found himself mostly failing. He was really starting to hate the polished, faint, impenetrable smile she had for him.

Mabel’s voice was a vague buzz through the tangle of his self-justification but he caught the gist of it - dazzle the rubes, make it look easy, inspire swooning jealousy in the audience. “All right,” she wrapped up, as rah-rah as he’d ever heard her. “Let’s you and him dance!”

Clary pinched her lips, unfolded her arms, and stalked out across the floor to join him.

“So,” Stan said.

“Mmhm.”

“Carved some time out of the schedule?”

“Barely. Your young lady over there makes a good argument.”

This was worse than her trying to punch him. Clary settled into the arch of his arm with professional precision, a frosty six inches of space between them, the six inches his mother had lectured him about a billion years ago and that he’d promptly ignored at the first opportunity to get up close and personal.

Stan maintained that six inches like his life depended on it because maybe it did.

“My waltz is all right. My samba’s shaky. Meet in the middle with foxtrot?” Clary looked up to him with clear, fearless eyes, the faintest of curves drawn along her lips. Her fingers were chapped and rough in his.

“Might as well start off easy. Mabel, whatcha got, pumpkin?”

“Got it!” There must have been some consultation beforehand because what came out of Mabel’s hot-pink speakers was honest-to-god big band music. Stan nearly protested and stifled it when Clary looked at him askance.

“Come on now,” she said sweetly. “We should really start with the lowest common denominator, shouldn’t we? If you would.”

He inhaled, flexed his hand at her waist and rocked back for the first step.

Their first pass around the room was dismal. She obviously had some formal training and he could barely remember what the hell went into a foxtrot, it’d been so long since he had done anything more than improvise on a foxtrot theme. There were a few near misses with her feet before she clicked her tongue and murmured. “Slow, slow, quick quick. I can tell you know this.”

One brassy number blended into the next as they paced and whirled, Mabel razzing them or calling encouragement by turns. “Clary, stop looking at him like you want to stab him! Dance is the language of love! You gotta sell it better than that!”

“Maybe I want to stab him.” Clary glared somewhere off over his left shoulder.

“No you don’t. You want to knock the socks off everyone at this party, right? I know you two can do it.”

Stan gritted his teeth and fought to earn back her trust with the respectful press of his palm, honoring whatever distance between them she wanted. By the third pass the six-inch block of ice had softened a little. “Spin?” he suggested, and at her faint nod he tried some fancier footwork.

They were uncoordinated, discordant, his feet clipping the edges of her sandals, frustration building between them as they lurched and wobbled. Mabel’s face was a worried glint in a corner of his eye. When Clary went off balance she caught herself with the awkward combination of a foot jabbed down out of sequence and his hand tightening at her waist in support.

He couldn’t quite look at her, but he hissed out, low as he could, “This is not gonna work if you can’t trust me a little.”

“Should I trust you?” she breathed back at him in a near-subsonic murmur. Her fingernails pricked at his shoulder.

Stan snorted softly. “Hell, no, you shouldn’t.”

There was a little pfft, pure disbelief, and a direct sidelong look of complete exasperation. The music spun to a stop as they stood interlocked and distant, then finally, mercifully, launched into the next tune. Something in her ramrod spine trembled, then snapped; he felt her make herself relax and sway into his grip.

“Fine,” Clary said dryly. “Honesty I can work with.”

This one was easy, a big swinging number with a nice solid four-square beat, nothing but a framework to whirl around the room to. Stan took it slow at first. She’d stopped fighting him so much, still hesitant but at least responsive to the little nudges that offered guidance, and as they moved he felt the tension in the room dissipating. The next time he signaled a spin she took the cue, pivoting neatly through and landing back in the crook of his arm with a quirked brow.

After a couple minutes he chuckled in surprise. “You’re not terrible at this.”

Her heel came down square on his toe, deliberate, he thought. “I suppose you’re not terrible either.”

Mabel relaxed too, flashing him a hasty thumbs up when Clary was looking elsewhere. The next track she cued up was overtly sappy, loaded with layered strings and lyrics dripping with longing. “Mabel,” snapped Clary. “Next please.”

“Sorry, wrong song!” Mabel wasn’t the least bit repentant but she did skip this one.

Time pressure was sort of a foreign thing for Stan - he had no problem putting his head down and plugging away, but was used to more open-ended projects. Possessed by grim determination, assisted by Soos through a couple of late nights, he got the Dreaming Denizens exhibit up and running in the nick of time.

They’d moved the cannibal pixie village over to hang in the rafters above the disguised darkroom. Melody had rigged a couple ragged little bits of LED-centered tulle mounted on wires to flutter around in the shadows. The effect was surprisingly creepy and convincing once they’d tweaked the lighting in that corner.

The ticketed picnic crowd had swelled to nearly seventy before Stan managed to shut it all down. Fortunately the Northwests had abandoned enough folding tables, chairs and lawn tents to handle twice that, easy, in the cavernous manor basement. At Clary’s direction they’d also hauled out enough stainless steel chafing dishes to serve a small army. Of course, they were serving an army.

“You could do weddings,” Stan mused to Soos as they stacked folding chairs in the lee of the Shack. “Bar mitzvahs, birthday parties, hell, just rent this stuff out. Be a shame to just let it molder in storage.”

“Set up a chapel?” Soos wiped his brow and grinned. “Might be fun, Mr. Pines. There’s still plenty to do around here.”

“I’m retired, y’know that. I’m only willin’ to crank out brilliant new merchandisin’ concepts for free because I like ya, kid.” Stan plucked off Soos’ cap and ruffled his hair before pivoting to haul down the next stack of chairs.

Dance practice with Mabel became an urgent matter for the last couple days before the event. Clary and Stan carved out half an hour at a time between projects. Mabel played all kinds of music at them - big band, BABBA, a smattering of 80s stuff, one or two classical waltzes - and they worked to adapt.

All of it was still professional. Polite. The impulse to pull Clary close for the slower bits was ever-present, but like hell was he going to screw things up any further. At least she was starting to pick up a familiar glow of satisfaction as they got the measure of one another. As partners they were really beginning to click. He regretted on some mercenary level that there wasn’t a contest or something around to game.

Thursday of that week was a whirlwind of setup and anticipation. Tents popped up like mushrooms across the summer-bleached lawn, the entire Shack crew bustling to get it laid out with time to spare. Clary was either helping move tables into place or tapping into her phone with a frown of focus, tracking the thousand things that needed to get done.

By late afternoon they were as close as they were going to get - the audio equipment would go up in the morning. Mabel and Dipper had been hovering around the edges of the fracas in anticipation, and as things slowed, they pounced.

“Clary, c’mon, we need to let the others finish up out here. I’ve got a couple of drink concepts in the kitchen I really need you to check out..” Mabel caught Clary’s hand and tugged, heading for the house. Clary was still thumbing through some checklist as she allowed herself to be hauled along.

Dipper waved frantically from the porch. Stan took the hint and headed off at a trot down the Shack’s long drive. By the time Clary was back outside, sipping warily from a tall glass of some sparkling pink concoction, he was rounding the corner in the purring Fairlane wagon.

Clary shrieked. She managed to fumble her glass down to the ground and dashed over to the car, running hands along the freshly rechromed grill, then flopping over to stretch her arms out along the polished hood. “I can’t believe it! Look at this thing, it’s like brand new!”

Stan killed the engine, hip-checked the door closed and held out the key, the finest of the Mystery Shack’s souvenir keychains dangling from its ring. “Ford an’ McGucket finished up late yesterday. I still want t’go over the insides one last time, but she’s runnin’ like a champ now.”

The first unrestrained smile he’d seen on her all week lit up her features. With great delicacy Clary hooked a finger into the keyring and plucked the key from his grip. “Thank you. All of you.”

“Nothin’ left to do but get through this party and then you’re finally on the road, huh?” Stan hooked thumbs through his belt loops and gave her the best of his showman’s grins, papering over the regret twisting hard in his gut with practiced ease. Her eyes flicked to his.

“We’ve still got a ton of work to do.” Clary reached out with a fist and cautiously nudged him in the shoulder with her knuckles. “I’ve got to go finish up a last round of prep at Greasy’s. You and Ford be ready to go at quarter to six, got it?”

“Got it.”

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“Should I trust you?” You’ve seen midwinter storms friendlier than the icy glint of those eyes.

Of course you can trust me!

We said we’d get the car fixed, we’re getting it fixed!

Honestly? Nope.

[ceruleanoctober]

A/A: A Love Like Ours (6/?) Future Fic ~For Lunabelle

She was pumping her breasts when he got there. The nurse tried to keep him from coming in, but April told her to allow him. He'd seen her nurse the babies most every night since she'd first taken Jack to her breast. He'd seen her pump many times. So it was a little more clinical because of the setting. April didn't care, neither did Andy.

He was really just glad to see that was being taken care of. Max only fed two, maybe three times a day now, but she was getting ready for the new baby, and she pumped often to maintain the flow.

The chair had been moved over to the window. Andy pulled it back over to the side of the bed and sat. He didn't try to hold her hand because she needed her hands to manipulate the pump. As soon as it was done and the nurse left, he took her hand in his. She gave a weak squeeze, and lay her head back with a weary sigh.

She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. Andy knew she was exhausted.

Andy just sat there holding her hand and looking at her. She looked so small. Even her baby bump seemed small with her lying in that bed. Andy hated the helplessness he felt. He wanted to do something, anything, to help April and the baby, but he didn't know what he could do. He didn't think there was anything he could do, aside from be there, holding her hand, so she knew she wasn't alone.

"As long as I'm alive, you'll never be alone," he promised her. He'd tell her that a hundred times a day, if she wanted. Because it was true. He might not be able to stay with her every moment of every day, but he would never be far from her.

"Andy," she whispered, her voice weak. She sounded as much as she looked like a mere shell of herself. Her eyes were dull, glassy. That sent a spike of fear through him. She was small, but she was fierce. She was his firecracker.

"I'm right here, babe," Andy said softly. He shifted, perched on the edge of his chair, half leaning into the bed.

She didn't say anything. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth a tight, tense line.

Her hand squeezed his suddenly, and her whole body jumped and she cried out with a sudden, intense pain. Andy held onto her hand and rose up to his feet. He leaned forward as if he could use his body to shield and protect her from whatever pain she was experiencing. She grit her teeth, breathing hard and fast, moaning and crying at the same time. Alarms went off, filling the room with beeping that hurt Andy's eardrums.

A team of nurses rushed in. One of them tried to push Andy out of the way, but April had a death grip on his hand and he wasn't going anywhere. He moved to try to at least get out of the way, insofaras he could. They worked around him, a whirlwind of motion and action, working in sync.

Five minutes later, it was quiet. Almost too quiet after so much commotion.

April was definitely awake now, and she looked at Andy with sad, almost hollow eyes. He felt his heart breaking for her, for the pain and the fear he knew she was feeling because he was feeling it too. "Hey, babe," he said. He wanted to try to act normal, as normal as possible given where they were and why they were there, but there was nothing normal about it. He felt awkward. he felt utterly helpless.

April's eyes closed and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Hold me," she murmured.

"Babe..." he knew he shouldn't. She was high risk. The baby was in distress. He could see the little one's heart rate on the fetal monitor. It wasn't good. He wasn't strong like his brothers had been, or even like he had been just a week earlier at a prenatal checkup.

But he couldn't deny her what she wanted. He'd never been able to deny her anything. He let go of her hand, and he moved slowly, carefully, gently easing himself and his too-big frame onto the bed beside her. He'd spent a lot of nights in a hospital bed, he knew hiw awkward, uncomfortable, and unforgiving they were. The plastic mattress made it hard to move, the sheet overing it didn't do much good. He was hyper aware of April's fragile condition, making him move slowly and deliberately, careful not to jostle her too much while he tried to get situated.

It took a good few minutes for him to get settled. And when he did, he had April tucked up against him, his arm under her shoulders to hold her close to himself. She whimpered and sucked in sharp breaths as he settled. She managed to shift enough to lay her head on his shoulder.

"How are the boys?" She struggled with each word. Andy knew that wasn't normal. And it wasn't good.

He kissed the top of her head. "They're with Ben and Leslie. I dropped Jack and Ian off at school, and Leslie's going to pick them up." Jack had tried to bargain with Andy, but Leslie had convinced him Jack needed his routine. "She's keeping Lycan and Max with her today."

"Good." April murmured.

"We stayed with Ben and Leslie last night. It was just easier." And it kept him from trying to sleep in the bed where April was supposed to be. He decided not to tell her the morning had been rough, because of course it had. Jack and Ian were old enough to know their mom was in hospital. Lycan didn't really understand that, but he had been irritable and fussy anyway. Max had been fussier than usual too, though Leslie handled him with ease.

Andy talked to her about everything and about nothing. He relaised it didn't matter what he said, his voice was soothing to her, so he talked through a variety of subjects, falling silent only when a nurse came in.

"Mr Dwyer." Andy usually corrected people, and asked them to call him Andy when they referred to him as Mr Dwyer. He didn't bother this time. "You need to move out of the bed." She was curt, but professional. Andy was pretty sure he wasn't the first worried husband to climb into bed with his wife. He figured it happened all the time.

"My wife asked me to hold her. I'm holding her."

"I understand that, Mr Dwyer, but your wife and your unborn child are at high risk right now. The slightest movement could send the child into distress."

"Then I shouldn't move. Since I'm already here." He tried not to panic. It would have been entirely too easy.But if he panicked, April would get upset and he knew that wasn't good for her or for the baby. He just had to focus on putting April's needs first, as he had for the last twenty years.

"Hospital policy dictates..." She started.

Andy growled at her. "I don't care about your hospital policy. My pregnant wife asked me to hold her because she's scared and she's in pain and I'm going to hold her. I'm not in the way, I'm not preventing her getting the care she needs. So what's the problem?" He could be downright confrontational where April and his children were concerned. And he'd spent enough time in hospitals himself to feel comfortable challenging the rules.

"Infection. We prefer visitors don't so much as sit on a patient bed. Much less..."

"I'm not a visitor. I'm her husband. I'm the father of that child. And four others who are staying with friends right now so I can be here with her. I'll move when my wife asks me to move and not before." Unless there was an issue, but Andy didn't want to think about that.

The nurse sighed and turned to leave the room.

"You're so hot when you're bitchy, babe," April said. He voice lacked strength and conviction, but Andy knew she meant it. He shifted just enough to kiss her lightly on the lips.

"I love you so much, babe. Both of you. You're gonna be just fine."

"I know." April sighed and settled against him, eyes closed. "I'm just so tired, babe."

Andy sighed and held her against his chest until the door opened and the nurse returned, with the doctor. Andy expected the man to tell him to get out of the bed, but he didn't. He looked over the monitors before turning to Andy and April. "I don't condone it," he said. "But as long as she's calm and comfortable, I don't have a problem with it."

The nurse remained professional, but Andy could almost see her roll her eyes. He wasn't really the type to cause trouble, but he would do anything for his wife and for his kids.

"In fact, her stats seem to be getting stronger."

He might have said more, but April grabbed Andy's arm, her eyes wide. "I think...my water just broke. It's too soon. I can't..."

"Shhhh, babe. It's okay. The doctor's right here." Andy held her tight and stroked her hair.

"Mr Dwyer, I'm going to have to ask you to move now," the doctor said, his voice even and controlled. Andy felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, but the doctor's calm demeanor helped him stay calm.

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Shameless pimping: Read all my fic at AO3

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My Prompt Table; Request via asks!

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[seafoamchild]

april 21st

i'm on wellbutrin now. i don't know if it's helping. i think it's too soon to tell. either way i still find myself getting anxious to the point where i just can't focus on anything. and i feel on the verge of tears all the time. i fight it so hard but the feeling is there, in my body, and i can't make it go away.

i'm anxious about my semester ending and my graduation coming up and feeling like i learned nothing this semester and did nothing to advance towards this career path. i spent most of my time working and hanging out and procrastinating and running. and i fucked up my internship. and part of me has always been like, wtf are you thinking? like thinking i'm going to enjoy sitting at a computer all day for work. *sigh* i guess i won't know until i try.

and i'm anxious because i don't know what to do this summer. i felt really sure i wanted to quit my serving job for a minute there, but i've been having second thoughts because i know i don't function well without a job. like i'd get so depressed not having structure in my schedule. but i also want to have time to do fun things and travel before i supposedly start a web design job. and it's going to be hard to get a lot of time off from my serving job this summer. but the money is going to be so enticing. but i want to go on a trip. and i'm not sure if lora will actually do it with me. and i want to go on trips with luke. but i don't want to overdo it and spend too much time together. there is so much on my mind, holy shit.

luke told me he loves me. i told him i love him too. and i definitely do. he's all i can fucking think about and it's really annoying. like i really don't want to be obsessing over him, but here i am, spending every waking moment daydreaming and wishing he was here. it's awful honestly. like it's exciting and cute but these are huge emotions and i am handling a lot of emotions right now. so i'm just overwhelmed i guess. trying not to spiral but it's a constant, CONSTANT battle.

we went to chicago together over my spring break. our first overnight trip. we took acid on the train there. only half a tab. but it ended up hitting hard. i was really tripping. we walked around the city and it wasn't super enjoyable honestly. we both felt the grime and dirtiness of the city and it was just sensory overload. we went to chinatown and it was just... a lot. we had some amazing pork and dill dumplings though but we were a little too fucked up so the restaurant felt a little scary. in retrospect i wish we would have gone to a museum or the aquarium, i don't know why we didn't. i guess because the weather was nice. oh well. we went to a dive bar, met up with sam and had a lot of beers, and got vegan tacos. and then went in the sauna for way too long. i seriously almost passed out. i had to lay on the couch and then we just looked at maps together and talked about our favorite shaped states. i said arkansas looked cute and squishy, like you could just hold it in between your thumb and your finger.

then the next day we met up with his cousins and hung out. it was fun and cute. but i had noooo appetite. like hungover from the acid trip i guess. the bed and breakfast made me this incredible avocado toast and i could barely eat it. and then we went to a ukrainian bakery for lunch and everything was delicious but i just got full after like 3 bites. it was sad because all i wanted to do in chicago was EAT.

so it was objectively just not a very successful trip to be honest, but despite everything, i think that's where i fell in love with him. like throughout the whole overwhelming acid trip i was just happy to be with him. we had so many fun conversations. like in the morning when we sat outside on the porch smoking a joint just talking about our favorite games we used to play as kids. idk. we just had a lot of moments where i felt so close to him. his presence was gentle and easy and reliable.

and that sealed the deal for me, i guess. we missed each other so much while i was in nevada. and when i got back we just made out in my bed for hours. it felt so sweet to see each other after a week apart. i feel like he's finally giving me the things i have needed this whole time - being more forthcoming with his thoughts, listening to me without judging and offering thoughtful advice, complimenting me, and being more affectionate.

he's still kind of hard to talk to sometimes. our communication styles are different. he's so comfortable with silence. and he doesn't always have a response to things i say. but i tend to ramble and just speak nonsense when there's silence, and i know that. i'm still getting used to it, i guess. that just because he doesn't have an excited and bubbly demeanor doesn't mean he's bored of me. and just because he doesn't want to spend all his free time with me doesn't mean he's bored of me. he loves me for goodness sake.

[charlottexabernathy]

Character Task #5

“When you fall, so spent from emotion, she is what brings you to your feet. Where challenges lie on the verge of destruction, she pulls you back and she gives you wings. Death won’t hold you as tight as she will.”

Basic Character Questions

First name: Charlotte

Surname: Abernathy

Middle names: Rosalie

Nicknames: Char, Charlie (only her father and Chase can call her this)

Date of birth: April 13th, 1991

Age: 27

Physical / Appearance

Height: 5′7″

Weight: 121 lbs (55 kg)

Build: Athletic, curvy

Hair color: Blonde

Hair style: Long, curly, thick

Eye color: Brown

Eye Shape: upturned

Glasses or contact lenses: Neither

Distinguishing facial features: Jawline, dark eyebrows, eyes,

Which facial feature is most prominent: Her lips

Which bodily feature is most prominent: Breasts

Other distinguishing features: Her smile

Skin: Clear, but tanned from being out in the sun

Hands: Dainty-looking, but deceptively strong. Her nails are clean and short.

Make up: When the situation calls for it, but she basically just wears foundation, mascara and tinted lip balm.

Scars: On her elbow from falling on concrete when she was younger

Birthmarks: On her left shoulder

Tattoos: Her father’s name ‘Ryan’ in his signature on the inside of her left wrist, a blue lotus on her lower back stretching from hip to hip, a bow on the back of her neck, and a crescent moon under her right breast. 

Physical handicaps: None

Type of clothes: Typically dresses very bohemian/flower child chic. Anything she can move in and move quickly

How do they wear their clothes: Fitted sometimes, otherwise she prefers rather flowy clothes. Sometimes she’ll wear tighter clothes.

What are their feet like: Clean, well-taken care of. Calloused heels. Her shoes are typically beaten up as she wears them hard. She has a pair of boots, however, that she takes care of like a baby.

Race / Ethnicity: Caucasian

Mannerisms: She rolls her eyes often or chews on her lower lip

Are they in good health: Yes

Do they have any disabilities: None

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse: Like, or fuck

Do they have a catchphrase: Fuck me.

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic: Pessimistic

Are they introverted or extroverted: Somewhere in between

Do they ever put on airs: Never. What you see is what you get with her

What bad habits do they have: She trusts very few people, even if they’ve proven they can be trusted

What makes them laugh out loud: Dry wit, dark senses of humor

How do they display affection: Absently. She’s not big on public displays, either giving or receiving

Mental handicaps: PTSD

How do they want to be seen by others: Tough, strong, capable

How do they see themselves: Unfeeling

How are they seen by others: Good pirate, excellent gunner

Strongest character trait: Her unwavering loyalty to the people she cares about

Weakest character trait: Jealousy

How competitive are they: Extremely

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider: She takes her time to consider things. If someone riles her up too much, she’ll make snap decisions and normally, it’s physical violence.

How do they react to praise: Awkwardly.

How do they react to criticism: She takes it to heart and learns from it quietly

What is their greatest fear: Losing Chase

What are their biggest secrets: She’s been searching for her mother, but she has no idea of even her name.

What is their philosophy of life:  “After a breath and before another, there's plenty of time to rest.” -Basith

When was the last time they cried: Two nights ago when she had a nightmare.

What haunts them: Her father’s death and the fact that the royal who killed him is still out in the world.

What are their political views: She’s a pirate and she believes in her right to exist

What will they stand up for: Anybody who tells her otherwise.

Who do they quote: Neruda, mostly. 

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy: Outdoorsy

What is their sinful little habit: Wearing lingerie under her clothes

What sense do they most rely on: Instinct

How do they treat people better than them: She believes no one is better than her. Royals, she treats disdainfully.

How do they treat people worse than them: She treats people of a lower class with respect.

What quality do they most value in a friend: Loyalty and patience

What do they consider an overrated virtue: Forgiveness

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be: Nothing

What is their obsession: Music

What are their pet peeves: Too many things to name

What are their idiosyncrasies: Too many to name

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of: Very small, but she doesn’t know who all is in it.

What is their perception of family: It’s the most important thing.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger: She has no idea (probably a few siblings)

Describe their best friend: @chasefoley

Ideal best friend: @chasefoley

Describe their other friends: She has acquaintances more than she has friends. She keeps them at arm’s length.

Describe their acquaintances: See above

Do they have any pets: She’d love a dog, but she doesn’t have the time to dedicate to one

Who are their natural allies: Pirates

Who are their surprising allies: None

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child?: She was an awkward-looking, gangly child with legs too long for her body and wildly curly hair

Did they grow up rich or poor?: Comfortable and on the go.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?: Nurtured. Her father raised her well, despite being a feared pirate. Charlotte adored him.

What is the most offensive thing they ever said?: She says offensive things daily

What is their greatest achievement?: Becoming a gunner

What was their first kiss like?: Sloppy. Wet. Awkward.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?: Left the love of her life and broke both their hearts in the process.

What are their ambitions?: To avenge her father’s death.

What advice would they give their younger self?: Don’t leave someone out of fear.

What smells remind them of their childhood?: Ocean air, gunpowder

What was their childhood ambition?: To settle down, marry, and have children

What is their best childhood memory?: Going to Paris with her father and having a beignet. 

What is their worst childhood memory?: Watching her father kill a man when he caught him sneaking into Charlotte’s room one night.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend?: Nope

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment?: Too many times to count

What past act are they most ashamed of?: Not breaking up the fight that ended with her father dying.

What past act are they most proud of?: Becoming a pirate

Has anyone ever saved their life?: Several people have. Meeting Chase kept her from wallowing in alcoholism.

Strongest childhood memory?: Watching the stars with her father and him teaching her about Greek mythology and constellations.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight?: No, but she believes in attraction at first sight.

Are they in a relationship?: No

How do they behave in a relationship?: She usually lets the much softer, goofier side of her abrasive personality show. If she’s with someone, she’s all in.

When did you character last have sex?: A week or so ago

What sort of sex do they have?: She enjoys rough sex, kinky over vanilla.

Has your character ever been in love?: Yes, with Michael Mitchell. She still considers him the great love of her life. @raging-surgeon-michael

Have they ever had their heart broken?: Yes, of her own doing.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat?: With violence. If anyone is stupid enough to invoke her wrath, she’ll fight with everything she has. 

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue?: Verbally, until push comes to shove and she’ll fight.

What is your character’s kryptonite?: @chasefoley

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be?: Photo album

How do they perceive strangers?: Warily. She trusts no one.

What do they love to hate?: Romantic movies. They’re wildly overrated, in her book.

What are their phobias?: Spiders, clowns, dolls, needles, snakes.

What is their choice of weapon?: Gun, knives, fists, anything she can get her hands on

What living person do they most despise?: Her father’s killer

Have they ever been bullied or teased?: She was teased growing up for her looks, but her glow-up was strong.

Where do they go when they’re angry?: Anyplace she can get violent

Who are their enemies and why?: Royals, for their decision to try and kill pirates.

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job?: Gunner on Jupiter’s Fury

What do they think about their current job?: She’s dedicated to it.

What are some of their past jobs?: Odd jobs here and there. She was a lounge singer at one point in time

What are their hobbies?: Target practice, yoga, singing, hiking, cooking

Educational background?: High school equivalent, some college courses before dropping out.

Intelligence level?: Not genius level, but above average

Do they have any specialist training?: Weapons training. 

Do they have a natural talent for something?: Marksman. She’s got killer aim.

Do they play a sport? Are they any good?: Shooting

What is their socioeconomic status?: Middle

Favorites

What is their favorite animal?: Horses

Which animal to they dislike the most?: Snakes

What place would they most like to visit?: Where she was born

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? A thunderstorm with lightning that crackled across the sky 

What is their favorite song?: “Every Time I Hear That Song” by Blake Shelton

Music, art, reading preferred?: Music

What is their favorite color?: Teal

What is their password?: 1QAZ2wsx34!

Favorite food: Hummus and pita chips

What is their favorite work of art?: She’s not big on art

Who is their favorite artist?: Music-wise, it’s probably Sophie B. Hawkins

What is their favorite day of the week?: Sunday, but only morning time.

Possessions

What is in their fridge: Water bottles, soda, snacks here and there

What is on their bedside table?: Books, alarm clock, hairbrush, phone charger, remote

What is in their car?: She doesn’t have one

What is in their bin?: Wadded up pieces of paper

What is in their purse or wallet?: Cards, her ID, gum, hairbrush, money

What is in their pockets?: Phone, pocketknife

What is their most treasured possession?: Pocketknife

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel?: Her father

Do they believe in the afterlife?: Yes

What are their religious views?: She was raised Catholic, but she’s more agnostic

What do they think heaven is?: Where people who lived selflessly go

What do they think hell is?: Killers, pedophiles, frauds, cheats

Are they superstitious?: Yes

What would they like to be reincarnated as?: She doesn’t believe in reincarnation

How would they like to die?: After a fight she’s won or when she’s old and grey

What is your character’s spirit animal?: Not really her thing

What is their zodiac sign?: Aries

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person?: Take away their sense of security.

What is their view of ‘freedom’?: Being able to make their own choices

When did they last lie?: She’s generally very honest

What’s their view of lying?: Withholding truth

When did they last make a promise?: To not stop seeing Michael

Did they keep or break their last promise?: So far, she’s kept it.

Daily life

What are their eating habits?: Generally very healthy, but she indulges in junk sometimes

Do they have any allergies?: Dust, pollen

Describe their home: Very neat, except her bedroom, which looks like her closet’s thrown up.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder?: Tries to be minimalist, but she’s got things she no longer has use for.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning?: Shower.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon?: Sleep

What do they do on a Friday night?: Drink

What is the soft drink of choice?: Pepsi

What is their alcoholic drink of choice?: Rum and coke

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype?: Anti-hero

Who is their hero?: She has none

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween?: She’d probably go as a Greek goddess

Are they comfortable with technology?: Not very much

If they could save one person, who would it be?: Her father

If they could call one person for help, who would it be?: Chase

What is their favorite proverb?: She has none

What is their greatest extravagance?: A pair of Christian Louboutin heels

What is their greatest regret?: Already answered

What is their perception of redemption?: Someone who has made strides to change when they promised to

What would they do if they won the lottery?: Change her name, pay off her debts, and hide

What is their favorite fairytale?: Rapunzel

What fairytale do they hate?: Cinderella

Do they believe in happy endings?: She says she doesn’t believe they exist, but deep down, she does.

What is their idea of perfect happiness?: Being able to travel with a companion

What would they ask a fortune teller?: She doesn’t believe in them.

If your character could travel through time, where would they go?: Back to see what her mother looked like and find her.

What sport do they excel at?: Marksman

What sport do they suck at?: Rugby or lacrosse

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose?: Ability to manipulate probability. 

[frustratedcastingdirector]

Mark Ruffalo Steps Behind the Camera

By Jenelle Riley (Backstage Magazine)| Posted April 20, 2011, 6:25 p.m.

Mark Ruffalo and Christopher Thornton met 20 years ago when both were students at the Stella Adler Academy in Los Angeles. "Mark was the hot young actor at the school," Thornton recalls. "All I can remember is, every girl I had a crush on he'd either already dated or was presently dating. So it was a little competitive in the beginning, but we became fast friends. And you knew immediately he was a fantastic, very instinctive actor." The pair would see each other through many hard times, from financial struggles to career frustrations. But perhaps nothing was more devastating than a 1992 fall while rock climbing that left Thornton paralyzed from the waist down. Ruffalo and two friends—Tim McNeil and Milton Justice—helped convince Thornton that this didn't mean the end of his acting career. Six months after the accident, the trio informed him that they were going to mount a production of "Waiting for Godot" in which Thornton would play Estragon. "I told them they were out of their minds, but they wouldn't take no for an answer," Thornton says. "It turned out to be the best therapy I could have ever done. Suddenly, I'm not focused on my injury for the first time in six months. And the play opens and it's a big hit, and we won awards and sold out and extended the show." Another pivotal artistic moment was born five years later. While having their annual lunch on the anniversary of Thornton's fall, Ruffalo attempted to offer encouraging words to his friend. "I told him that I knew him before and after his accident, and the man he was now was so much more than the man he was before," Ruffalo recalls. "And I said, 'Maybe there is a gift in this. Maybe this has made you a stronger, better person in some ways.' " Thornton's response? "You be the saint in the wheelchair; I'll be the shallow asshole walking around." Ruffalo laughs when he recounts this story—which Thornton verifies—and adds that from this starting point, the seeds were planted for what would become Thornton's script for "Sympathy for Delicious." The film tells the story of Dean O'Dwyer, aka "Delicious D," a paralyzed and homeless DJ who discovers he has the ability to heal others—but not himself. Ruffalo stars as a dedicated priest who tries to help O'Dwyer, but the actor also makes his film directing debut, while Thornton portrays O'Dwyer in a magnetic, unsentimental performance. After a 10-year development period, a dramatic premiere at the Sundance Film Festival that saw the movie go from reviled to revered, and a lengthy battle to find distribution, "Sympathy for Delicious" finally makes its way into theaters this week. It is, in Ruffalo's words, "the greatest roller-coaster ride I've ever been on in my life." A Winning Season It's two weeks before "Sympathy for Delicious" opens and Ruffalo is trying to relax. He has been doing publicity nonstop for his passion project and, despite the exhaustion, claims to be enjoying himself. Being a recognizable actor with a recent Oscar nomination—for playing the sperm-donor dad in "The Kids Are All Right"—has its perks. He breaks into a wide smile when he reveals that earlier that morning, he got to work with a very special co-star: Elmo, from "Sesame Street." Ruffalo has been a journeyman actor for most of his life. He quit the business three or four times before his friend Kenneth Lonergan cast him in his 2000 indie film "You Can Count On Me" as the goodhearted but unreliable brother of Laura Linney's character. Hollywood quickly caught on to Ruffalo's raw talent and leading-man looks, and for the next 10 years the actor constantly seemed on the verge of major stardom. He was cast in several projects that looked prestigious on the page ("In the Cut," "All the King's Men," "Reservation Road"), yet none connected with critics or audiences. Then there were the big-budget rom-coms opposite major female stars ("Rumor Has It," "Just Like Heaven," "View From the Top"), in which he was underutilized. Instead, he tended to shine more in small indies or ensemble pieces, like "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" and "The Brothers Bloom." While he was doing stellar work in little-seen films like "XX/XY" and "The Last Castle," it's the 2004 comedy "13 Going on 30," he says, that he is most often recognized for in public—all of which is fine by Ruffalo, who has always preferred to disappear into his characters. "I still have people say to me, 'Who are you? I'm sorry, am I supposed to know who you are?' " he says with a laugh. "So they'll ask my name and what I've been in, then go, 'Oh, yeah, yeah, you're that guy.' And I like that." Even after he landed his Academy Award nomination for "Kids," a small film he worked on for only six days, his career didn't change much. He admits he's glad the days and nights spent campaigning during Oscar season are over and he can get back to work. "Honestly, the whole awards thing was so abstract to me," he says. "It's so different from what we actually do. And aside from a few people, I don't think anyone places too much importance on it. I think your work speaks for itself more than titles or awards." One advantage of his raised profile, however, is Ruffalo's ability to get certain projects off the ground. More than 10 years ago, Thornton brought him a 198-page script for "Sympathy for Delicious," and Ruffalo says he "instantly knew" he had to direct it. Though he had helmed his share of stage productions, he was unproven as a film director and knew it would be an uphill battle. Then there was the added difficultly of casting an unknown actor in the lead role. Thornton reveals, "There were several times over the last 10 years where people said to Mark, 'Stick Colin Farrell in a wheelchair and we'll give you $7 million right now, because we really like the script.' One time, late in the process, I said, 'The hell with it; just do it. I'll take the writing credit; I just want to go home.' But Mark was insistent. He wouldn't make the film without me in the role." As Ruffalo puts it, "It didn't interest me without Chris in the part." Thornton and Ruffalo worked on approximately 40 versions of the script, and over the years the project changed for them in personal and professional terms. Ruffalo admits that the story took on an even deeper meaning for him when he was diagnosed with a brain tumor in 2002. Though he's resistant to talk about that experience, he says it informed the story in a new way: "When I had my brain tumor, I tried everything. Because who doesn't want a fix? And my face was partially paralyzed. I was still working on this script and thinking about the questions the film raises. After that, I looked at this from a whole new angle." The pair's salvation eventually arrived in the form of Joanne Jacobson, a friend from their theater days, who signed on in 2008 to executive-produce the movie. It was shot on a micro-budget in 23 days in Los Angeles, with Ruffalo working behind and in front of the camera. "For me, acting is a very secret and insular process," he says. "Directing is very different—it's far more inclusive. I had to be in touch with everyone from production heads to extras. It was a challenge, to say the least. But I'd waited 10 years for this and wasn't going to let anything stop me." To round out his cast, Ruffalo called upon various actors he'd met over the years, such as Linney, his "Windtalkers" co-star Noah Emmerich, and fellow "Zodiac" player John Carroll Lynch. "I've sort of been collecting people as I go along," he admits. "It might come from my theater background, where I'm building a repertory company. I would work with these people and start looking for places where I could use them." Though he had never worked with either of them, Orlando Bloom and Juliette Lewis signed on to play members of the rock band O'Dwyer performs with. Ruffalo's wife had suggested Lewis, who initially hesitated at taking on the role. "She told us, 'I've sort of played this; I'm in a rock band in real life. I just don't know,' " Ruffalo recalls. "But after coming in and talking to me and Chris and hearing the story, she said, 'Well, you guys, I have to do it now. I'm being guided to do this movie.' " By contrast, Bloom wasn't someone Ruffalo thought of as the arrogant lead singer of the band. "I had another actor in mind, but he had some schedule changes and I lost him," the director says. "Orlando expressed a real passion for it, and anyone who puts themselves out there like that, I have to meet. And the first thing he said to me was, 'You know, Mark, I really need an experience like this. This part scares me, but I'd like to try. I'll do anything you want me to do, but I need a healing myself.' " Bloom so transformed his appearance for the role, many viewers don't recognize him at all in the film. "He was a revelation," Ruffalo says. "He was there, totally egoless, no attitude, and he worked his ass off. And I love when people come up to me and say, 'I thought Orlando Bloom was in this movie. Where is he?' " Critical 'Sympathy' "Sympathy for Delicious" made its debut at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival, and the immediate critical response was not kind. "Some of those first reviews were harsh and mean, and particularly mean to some of my cast members," Ruffalo says. "And I really took umbrage with it." IFC.com called it "a gangly mess of a movie." "It looked like it was going to be a disaster," he says. But then things began to change. "A rebuttal review came out in USA Today that essentially said, 'I don't understand these mean reviews; they totally seemed to miss the movie.' And then Manohla Dargis of The New York Times came out with a rave review." By the close of the festival, the film had walked away with the Special Jury Prize. "It was harrowing, it was heartbreaking, it was exhilarating, and in the end, totally exalting." As for the harsher critics, Ruffalo says the ones that really got to him were those that criticized Thornton's performance. "Let me put it this way: I'm in the movie, working opposite Chris. And Chris steals every scene I'm in," Ruffalo says with a laugh. "Damn him!" Still, the film didn't instantly land a distributor out of Sundance. Though they had a few offers, Ruffalo and Thornton wanted to hold out for a theatrical release. "Thank God the producers said, 'This movie is too special, and we believe in it, and something good is going to come,' " Ruffalo says, adding that he then wasted months on "a real crackpot" trying to solidify a deal. Eventually, Maya Entertainment came along with plans to distribute the film in theaters. "I've been collaborating with them every step of the way, on marketing, cutting a trailer, designing the poster, everything," he says. "It's been a great experience working with them, but it's been a long haul." As for how audiences will embrace a film about a disillusioned faith healer that dares to ask questions about people's belief systems, Ruffalo believes there's something in the movie for everyone. After screenings, he would find himself approached by Christians who thanked him for not mocking their beliefs, and by atheists who congratulated him for exposing faith healing as a sham. "But ultimately it's not a religious movie; it's a movie that has religious people in it," Ruffalo says. "What it's really about is how you sometimes don't get what you want in life, but you get what you need. And sometimes you're handed a bag of shit in life, but out of that, something can grow. Something good and beautiful.

[theonewhereiramble]

The One With the Decade Ending

Since we are just days away from 2020, I wanted to reflect on the past 10 years.

2010: Took my life in my hands and jump started my weight loss journey. Was in my second semester of college, still unsure of my future career goals but tackling 19 credit hours with a 3.97 GPA. That summer, my grandma had her first of 3 heart attacks and I took care of her. My insistence of getting her up to walk is what lead me to choosing a path in nursing. She thought I would be an excellent nurse with my no BS attitude. I became an RA to cut down on student loans and to live roommate free since I had the best freshman roommate ever and didn’t want to risk meeting someone awful. Our different majors took us out of the same dorm. Thanksgiving break my grandma had her second heart attack and this encouraged me to work harder to get into nursing school.

2011: I lost my brother in January due to medical negligence in Florida. In April, I lost my grandma to her third and final heart attack. I didn’t show up to any of my finals because everything happened during finals week. My GPA wasn’t wrecked completely, as my grades were high enough without my finals. Some let me take the test later due to the circumstances, others said my percentage was already high and not to worry about it. I spiraled down a dark path of binge drinking and not really sleeping for a few months. My family was torn apart. The dynamic was weird. I lost who I was. I had to be the strongest person for everyone even though my grandma was my best friend and I was wrecked the most from the lost. My mom decided all attention needed to be on her despite the fact she hated my grandma. I moved back home and commuted to school. I turned 21 in October and gained a sense of confidence to go after a guy I wanted for 5 years. I was admitted into nursing school in December and would start in January.

2012: Most of the beginning months are a blur. I studied my ass off for nursing. It was truly a struggle and I had to rewire the way I thought and studied. Most difficult time of my life. My boyfriend had cheated on me and we broke up. We ended up getting back together and then I cheated on him during my friends bachelorette party. My friend got married and my boyfriend and I ended up getting an apartment together. I found my second cat in the dumpster of our complex. We saved each other and my ex hated him. Our relationship ended a month later but he refused to move out and I wasn’t moving back home. So we coexisted and then I found out just how much of a psychopath he actually was. November came and I met the love of my life - I just didn’t know it at the time.

2013: The love of my life and I decided to see each other casually. Neither of us wanted anything serious, or so he claimed. In February I fell in love with him. We had a difficult relationship and just fought all the time. In May, I took a random roadtrip to NYC. Then in June I moved in with him because he didn’t like my living situation. It didn’t feel right so I moved out again. He accused me of cheating on him and I never worked so hard to prove to him or anyone I wasn’t. He adopted a cat because my two made him want a cat of his own. In July, we gave living together another shot. Things just ended up working and the fighting stopped. In October, my friend found a kitten on her porch and my boyfriend fell in love with her so we then had 4 cats and a dog. Also, unbeknownst to me at the time, he started planning how he was going to propose. He got his best friend and mine involved.

2014: I graduated with my bachelors and was admitted into a grad program for teaching. It was an accelerated program of the bach of ed. My dog attacked my kitten and I spent many days in and out of veterinary hospitals. I started dreaming of working in one. I had no passion for nursing after my grandma’s death and thought I needed a career change. Teaching was always an interest as well. After I graduated and before I started grad school, I went to NYC with 2 of my friends. My boyfriend and his friend were also in NYC, but as a surprise. I was proposed to in Central Park. I started grad school and realized that it was not a good decision and dropped out after one semester. I revisited different desires I had in a career in what I wanted to be when I grew up as a kid. In November I started volunteering at a local vet clinic to see if vet med would be a good place for me. I clicked instantly with all the staff and never felt more at home than I had at that time.

2015: Well, to be honest I don’t remember much of 2015. I focused on vet school prereqs and applied to go on a trip to Thailand to work with elephants. I was accepted for the May 2016 trip. I also applied to OSU vet school and was given an interview invitation. My fiance and I started looking at houses to buy. We had complications with one, as the owners we not ok with the “low” appraisal and tried to get us to pay $30k more due to their own sentiments. We declined and decided to keep searching. We put an offer on another house, we were due to close and the day of the lender told us since my fiance was technically a contract to hire it wasn’t going to be closed that day. We said forget it, it’s not our time to buy a house. A week later, that house flooded causing thousands in water damage. A blessing in disguise.

2016: I was accepted to OSU vet school for the class of 2020. I was offered a job at the clinic I volunteered at. I had the best time in Thailand treating elephants and helping at a spay/neuter clinic, all under the supervision and advisement of a veterinarian. Thailand has less strict laws on what people without a license may do. I started paying back my student loans, which were over $100k already. I had decided it wasn’t the right time for vet school because I didn’t want the extra debt. I started being smart about money. I married my best friend in December.

2017: We spent the first 6 months traveling to places new and old. Vegas, Boston, and San Francisco were all new. In January, a sickly kitten appeared on my porch and wanted to meet my cats desperately. He went into the back yard and I was fearful my dog would kill him. I brought him inside and kept him in the bathroom until I could get a clean bill of health on him. We decided to keep him as I was convinced cats find me when I need them the most. In April, my sister committed suicide leaving behind 3 children. In June, my husband was offered a job in California. He accepted. In August we lived just north of San Francisco. In October, I was woken up in the middle of the night by a wild fire. I was on the verge of evacuation and my husband was in Chicago for work. He flew home that day. The smoke was so terrible for months and going outside was not advised. We went whale watching for our 1 year anniversary. We didn’t receive any of our belongings until Christmas Eve. I hated living there and just wanted to go home. My husband loved living there.

2018: I was finally starting to love California. I was making friends and looking forward to exploring. I got my dog in a routine. Things were looking up.The smoke was still bad but if we went south of the bay it was ok. My husband started hating it because his job was awful. In February I said goodbye to my childhood cat. I flew home on an emergency because my dad was having his 4th open heart surgery. I wanted to see him because I had a gut feeling he wasn’t going to make it. He was admitted into the hospital in preparation. He acquired an affection to his Dr. ordered antibiotics to cover the bases. In March he finally had his surgery, after a month in the hospital. He came out of surgery just fine. Over the weekend, he started to go down hill. On Wednesday March 21, I walked into work, my cousin called me to tell me his kidneys were failing and he was going septic. I promptly walked out of work, called my husband to come get me as we carpooled and booked a flight home. I landed and went right to the hospital. A half hour later I took him off life support said goodbye to my dad. I planned his funeral and had to fly home the day after it. A week later, I said goodbye to my childhood dog. My husband decided we should move home because I had gained guardianship of my niece and nephew. My dad was my niece’s best friend. Losing her mother and her grandfather less than a year apart took its toll. In May we decided to explore a bit of California. We visited Yosemite and that sparked my desire to visit every national park. In June we moved back to Ohio and I went back to my old job. In August I was hired at a major hospital in the cardiovascular ICU. My husband fought in court to gain custody of his daughter. I started my own side photography business which was responded to very well. I visited NYC with my friend, her boyfriend, and my husband.

2019: I wasn’t adjusting to night shift well. I was lonely and with my own thoughts too often. In March I miscarried and was depressed for many months. I started to try to craft more as a creative outlet and found I love woodworking. I picked up running again and stuck to it. In May I went back to NYC. I ran my first race ever in June. Also in June, I visited Mackinaw Island and the UP with my friend and we visited some of her grandma’s childhood. I left night shift and started working day shift, still in the ICU. In July, I joined a group that takes shelter dogs out for runs or hikes. In August, I ran my first half marathon. In September, I ran my second. In October, I planned a trip to Quebec for my birthday. After some mishaps and difficulties booking a hotel (there was a marathon that weekend) I said forget it and planned a different trip. I went to Shenandoah, Washington D.C. and Great Falls Park with my husband and my dog. My grandma celebrated her 93rd birthday. In November I sprained my foot but decided to run a half marathon anyway. It got to the point I could no longer walk, and thus ending my running season prematurely. I signed up for a full marathon in 2020 despite that. In December, I went back to NYC. My foot was finally healing so I began running again.

[girlwithptsd]

I know this was a few days ago, but in honor of PTSD Awareness Day, I am going to re-share my original PTSD story to help spread awareness in how it can manifest.

April 2014, a Tuesday night, I was the most suicidal I have been in years. To be honest, the thoughts of suicide had briefly fluttered through my head every day for many years, but never to the point that I wanted to act on it. It became the automatic thought attached to bad things, with more rational responses following and drowning it out. It was so incredibly impulsive that night though. I was so afraid that I was a burden to my best friend (roommate), her cat, and others because of my mental illness. I had been having terrible anxiety and anxiety attacks since that Saturday night, the night after having flashbacks of things of my parents from my childhood. Not all violence, most of it emotional abuse and putting into words the confusion of when my mom would say nice things to me, but I knew they were lies, even at 2 years old. I realized that things must have happened even before I had conscious memories that made me terrified of my dad and scared of my mom. I think I have had anxiety since I was at least 2 years old because of those memories.  I had a battle with myself Monday morning to get out the door. I just couldn’t do it. I was all ready to go, but I spent twenty minutes trying to not break down with the absolute dread and fear I felt. I felt like I was dying from Sunday night through Thursday night of that week. I put in for a sub online Monday, but it was too late for it to take it and I would have to call the school. My fear of the phone won and I went in, but was on the verge of breaking down all day, so I took Tuesday off. Tuesday evening, my roommate's cat was sitting on my lap after a plethora of flashbacks accompanied by anxiety attacks (screaming, twitching, having a hard time breathing, feeling like I was going to die, etc.). I was watching TV. Their discussion on orange juice (my dad drank orange juice every day) triggered me and I screamed, twitched, and scared the cat on my lap. He was sniffing around, trying to figure out what was wrong. He really seemed scared.  Earlier that day, when I was freaking out, he looked at me with more of a concerned, “What is going on?” than he ever has before. In my irrational state, I became afraid that the cat would never want to sit on my lap again or that it would be awhile because I scared him, especially if I kept it up. I thought of how I had burdened him, and I wanted to die, impulsive. I thought of how I was going to do it, and then I remembered what I said to myself the day before when I allowed myself to punch pillows and throw them around the room, “If you feel suicidal, even for a brief moment, you need to call someone.”  With that thought in my mind, I messaged a friend of mine who I worked with at an elementary school. She always replies almost right away. I prayed that she would reply as she normally does, and she did. I didn’t tell her how I was feeling. I told her everything else about the day except that I was suicidal in those moments of talking to her. I felt better with each message from her. I asked her to keep talking to me until my roommate got home. She did. She saved my life. I saved my life by reaching out to her.  A few days later, a friend was trying to get me to even just go out for ice cream and I couldn’t. I expected her to show up at the house. Ten minutes after thinking that, two of my other friends showed up. They were talking to me about going to the hospital, which I had been thinking anyway still, and when my roommate came home, she joined the conversation. My roommate left the deciding up to me, which I appreciated. I decided I really did need to go to the hospital. We went to the one in town and then I was transported to a mental health hospital about an hour from where I live. I was there until the following Wednesday.  While I was in the hospital, I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). They doubled my prescription for Zoloft, which I feel is really helping, and prescribed anxiety meds to take when I’m feeling anxious. If I take it soon enough, it really helps. If I don’t take it until I’m super anxious, it only takes the edge off, but that’s better than nothing. Basically, the medicine allows me to get to a place where I can start to bring myself back down, usually, if I take it in time. That’s good for flashbacks. I’m also taking more sleeping meds to help with the nightmares and night terrors. 

I still struggle every day with my illnesses, but I will not stop fighting. There are days when I want to give in to the thoughts that tell me I am a burden and would be better off dead, but with a flicker of strength, and with the help of my friends, cousin, and therapist, I persevere. My very first counselor gave me a rock with one word on it she thought described me perfectly: resilient. I plan on continuing to live up to that word.

[tmnt-imagines]

The turtles walking in on their s/o trying to commit suicide: Michelangelo

 WARNING: MENTION OF BLOOD, SUICIDE AND DEATH

Requested by: @everchangingfangirl

A/N: There will be 1 more for the 1 other turtles :)

The metal object was heavier than you had thought it would be, and the weight of it made your hands ache the longer you gripped its handle, and stared down at it in disbelief and uncertainty. Your life wasn’t easy, and maybe this was the coward’s way out, you just couldn’t cope with it anymore. Putting on your smiling face for the turtles, who, despite their best efforts, hadn’t caught onto her happy charade. It was tiring, trying to be happy for others when all she wanted to do was curl up and cry in the corner. She couldn’t do that though, not in front of Michelangelo. He wouldn’t understand if he knew what was wrong with her, he wouldn’t get how someone who was seemingly so happy, could ever be depressed. He wouldn’t understand and you didn’t want to have to burden him with something as upsetting as your depression. Mikey was such a happy, eager and energetic person, he was too naive to have to deal with something so much bigger than he could handle. He was better off not knowing. 

You had spent some time debating how you would go about this; you didn’t want to do something as grotesque as hanging yourself, and in all honesty you couldn’t quite bring yourself to carve up your arm either. So this seemed like the easiest, and the most painless way out. You just hoped it wouldn’t be Michelangelo that would find you. You didn’t want him to see something like that. You hoped Miss Smith in the flat next door would hear the gunshot and come and check up on you; you hoped somehow she’d get hold of April, who could break it to the boys without them ever having to see you like this. You wanted them to remember you as you were, even if you hadn’t really been as happy as you let on, they didn’t need to know that. All they needed to know was they were what made you happy, even if it hadn’t quite been enough, they were still the best things in your life, and you wanted them to know that. 

The gun trembled slightly in your sweaty palms, and you glared at it in hopes it would become less threatening the longer you looked at it. But nothing changed, it was a terrifying thought, death, and this was your one way ticket. 

“Y/N you will not believe the day I’ve had! The Krang were on the streets and we kicked their metal -” He’d hopped through the window before you could blink, and now just stood beside your bed with the most dumbfounded look you’d ever seen. “Y/N, is that....” He was looking at your hands, or more what was in your hands.

“Mikey I...” You weren’t sure what to say, how could you explain this to him, he wouldn’t understand. 

“Is that a gun? What the hell are you doing with a gun?” He started to freak, he’d never seen a real gun before. Sure the Krang had their laser rifle things, but that wasn’t this. This was an actual gun, a real gun that wasn’t from some alien planet. This could hurt someone. This could hurt you. 

“I...found it.” You mumbled, that wasn’t true and you hated lying to him, but in this case the lies you told were better for him to hear than the truth. He’d break if he knew what you’d intended to do with it. 

“Where did you find a gun? People don’t just leave those things lying around.” You could see the panic in Mikey’s eyes, as though he knew you were planning something but he couldn’t be sure, or at least he didn’t want to be. “Y/N what were you going to do with it?” 

You paused, looking down at you hands rather than at Mikey’s sad, and confused eyes. “I...” You sighed, feeling your chest constrict. You didn’t want to tell him the truth, but lying took too much strength right now - strength you didn’t have. “I’m sorry Mikey, I just...” your breathing was uneven, and the tears were beginning to fill your eyes as you glanced up at him. He was on the verge of crying too, and the pain and fear in his eyes was making you feel far worse about this than you previously had. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, unable to think of anything better to say. 

Michelangelo crouched down on the bed next to you, an arm easily slipping around your shoulders, whereas his other hand snatched the gun from your lap and tossed it away from you both. “Shhh.” He hushed, stroking your hair and drawing you into his chest. “Don’t worry, babygirl. You’re alright, I’m here.” 

Maybe Michelangelo didn’t need to understand what it was like, to be there for you when you needed him. He might not get depression, but he could still hold you close while you cried, and he could still be there to brighten your day if you were low. Maybe he didn’t need to understand, to make it better.

[keepingupwiththeroyals]

Prince Harry: I sought counselling after death of mother led to two years of 'total chaos' in my twenties - exclusive Telegraph interview

Hannah Furness, royal correspondent 16 APRIL 2017 • 10:37PM Prince Harry has disclosed that he sought counselling after enduring two years of “total chaos” while still struggling in his late twenties to come to terms with the death of his mother. The Prince says in an interview with The Telegraph that he “shut down all his emotions” for almost two decades after losing his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales, despite his brother, Prince William, trying to persuade him to seek help. Disclosing that he has spoken to a professional about his mental health, he describes how he only began to 
address his grief when he was 28 after feeling “on the verge of punching someone” and facing anxiety during royal engagements. Prince Harry speaks frankly about fighting his demons on the wake of his mother's death and how he finally sought professional help Prince Harry speaks frankly about fighting his demons on the wake of his mother's death and how he finally sought professional help CREDIT: GETTY IMAGES Describing the “quite serious effect” that losing his mother had on his personal and professional life, he tells how living in the public eye left him feeling he could be “very close to a complete breakdown on numerous occasions”. The Prince, now 32, turned to counsellors and even took up boxing. He says he is now in “a good place”. Prince Harry has decided to give an unprecedented insight into his past in the hope it will encourage people to break the stigma surrounding mental health issues. He has spoken to Bryony Gordon for the first episode of her podcast, Mad World, in which she will interview high-profile guests about their mental health experiences. Show more The 30-minute conversation is one of the most candid insights into the innermost thoughts of a modern young member of the Royal family. The Prince, together with his brother and sister-in-law, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, have set up Heads Together, a charity which promotes good mental well-being. Prince Harry, who was 12 when his mother died, says in the podcast that he spent his teenage years and twenties determined not to think about her. “I can safely say that losing my mum at the age of 12, and therefore shutting down all of my emotions for the last 20 years, has had a quite serious effect on not only my personal life but my work as well,” he said. Diana, Princess of Wales with Prince Harry who has said he regrets not opening up sooner about how his mother's death affected him Diana, Princess of Wales with Prince Harry who has said he regrets not opening up sooner about how his mother's death affected him “I have probably been very close to a complete breakdown on numerous occasions when all sorts of grief and sort of lies and misconceptions and everything are coming to you from every angle.” Asked whether he had been to see a 'shrink' to offload his thoughts, he said: “I’ve done that a couple of times, more than a couple of times, but it’s great.” The Prince admitted that at times he had struggled with aggression and turned to boxing as an outlet for his frustration. My way of dealing with it was sticking my head in the sand, refusing to ever think about my mum, because why would that help? “During those years I took up boxing, because everyone was saying boxing is good for you and it’s a really good way of letting out aggression,” he said. “And that really saved me because I was on the verge of punching someone, so being able to punch someone who had pads was certainly easier.” He eventually sought support with the encouragement of his brother and others close to him, who told him: “Look, you really need to deal with this. It is not normal to think that nothing has affected you.” Since learning to talk honestly about his feelings, he said, he now feels able to put “blood, sweat and tears” into making a difference for others. “The experience I have had is that once you start talking about it, you realise that actually you’re part of quite a big club,” he said. Later this year, the Prince and the Duke will commemorate the 20th anniversary of their mother’s death, commissioning a statue and presenting awards in her name to honour “kindness, compassion and service”. Prince Harry with a picture of his mother Princess Diana, with staff and users of The Running Charity, which is the UK's first running-orientated programme for homeless and vulnerable young people, in Willesden in north west London. Prince Harry with a picture of his mother Princess Diana, with staff and users of The Running Charity, which is the UK's first running-orientated programme for homeless and vulnerable young people, in Willesden in north west London. CREDIT: GEOFF PUGH Prince Harry said of his loss: “My way of dealing with it was sticking my head in the sand, refusing to ever think about my mum, because why would that help? “[I thought] it’s only going to make you sad, it’s not going to bring her back. “So from an emotional side, I was like ‘right, don’t ever let your emotions be part of anything’. “So I was a typical 20, 25, 28-year-old running around going ‘life is great’, or ‘life is fine’ and that was exactly it. “And then [I] started to have a few conversations and actually all of a sudden, all of this grief that I have never processed started to come to the 
forefront and I was like, there is actually a lot of stuff here that I need to deal with.” He said he now counts himself very lucky that it was “only two years … of total chaos” before he learnt how to talk about it. “I just couldn’t put my finger on it,” he said. “I just didn’t know what was wrong with me.” Even at royal engagements, he said, he had found himself battling a “flight or fight” reaction without properly 
understanding why. Once he started opening up to friends, he added, he found those same friends felt able to “unravel their own issues”. Dismissing previous speculation he may have suffered mental health issues because of his time in Afghanistan, he said he felt clear that coping with the death of his mother on a very public platform had the greatest impact. “I can safely say it’s not Afghanistan-related. I’m not one of those guys that has had to see my best mate blown up next to me and have to apply a tourniquet to both their legs. Luckily, thank God, I wasn’t one of those people.” Prince Harry said his work with the personnel recovery unit, where he listened to wounded, injured and sick servicemen and women talk about 
 serious mental health issues, had proved a turning point in his understanding. “I know there is huge merit in talking about your issues and the only thing about keeping it quiet is that it’s only ever going to make it worse,” he said. Prince Harry left the British Army in May 2015 after 10 years' service that saw him fight on the front line in Afghanistan twice “Not just for you but everybody else around you as well because you become a problem. I, through a lot of my twenties, was a problem and I didn’t know how to deal with it.” On eventually seeking help, the Prince said: “It’s all about timing. And for me personally, my brother, you know, bless him, he was a huge support to me. He kept saying this is not right, this is not normal, you need to talk to [someone] about stuff, it’s OK. “The timing wasn’t right. You need to feel it in yourself, you need to find the right person to talk to as well.” But he added: “I can’t encourage people enough to just have that conversation because you will be surprised firstly, how much support you get and secondly, how many people literally are longing for you to come out.” Confessing he was “a little nervous, a little tight in the chest” about the interview, the Prince said he was determined to make a difference while the younger members of the Royal family are “still interesting” to the public, doing his bit before Prince George, Princess Charlotte and any of his own future children step into the spotlight. My brother, you know, bless him, he was a huge support to me. He kept saying this is not right, this is not normal Of his current focus on mental health, he said: “What we are trying to do is normalise the conversation to the point where anyone can sit down and have a coffee and just go ‘you know what, I’ve had a really s--- day, can I just tell about it? Because then you walk away and it’s done.” He is now in a “good place”. “Because of the process I have been through over the past two and a half years, I’ve now been able to take my work seriously, been able to take my private life seriously as well, and been able to put blood, sweat and tears into the things that really make a difference and things that I think will make a difference to everybody else.” http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2017/04/16/prince-harry-sought-counselling-death-mother-led-two-years-total/

[sofuckingchuffed]

So I’m gonna write about my mental state below the read more so you can just keep scrolling without being confused and curious about this mysterious ‘keep reading’ post.

However, if you do read this, feel free to message me because I’m in a fucking rutt and I don’t expect anyone to be able to help... I just want love in the form of great SVU fanfics, or something, idk. I’m considering rewatching all the Raul eps for gif inspiration because apparently that show is the only thing making me happy these days.

So anyway.

I’m stuck. I’m trapped. I feel like I’ve fucked myself over so badly in regards to my job situation, and therefore my financial situation, and every time I try and think out a plan for myself I just distract myself with tumblr/fanfic/gifs/movies etc because I’m just fucking scared.

I started my first day working from home as a casual captioner today, and when I dug out my work laptop, I also dug out the official warning letter I received a month before my last day in that job (those events are not entirely unconnected – I had a meeting about said warning and then handed in my resignation the following day). I thought it would be kinda funny to read what they’d said now I wasn’t actually working there. Like, I kinda knew what they’d said because we’d discussed it, but I’d not actually read the letter yet.

So I read it… And I couldn’t even make it the whole way through before I was crying too much to actually read. And then when I composed myself I stupidly continued reading and ended up a mess again. And I’m not really sure why. It’s behind me now, so it shouldn’t be quite so upsetting. But it still feels so fucking unfair, and I’m still so bitter, and I blame that job for the ridiculous state of my mental health at the moment, even though that’s probably unfair – I’ve always struggled with depression and anxiety.

But like… I was so happy when I moved to Sydney and took that job. And I was happy for at least 10 months, I’d say, give or take. But by Christmas it was just kinda wearing on me a bit. The workload for our team had at least tripled since I started, and yet we had LESS staff than when I started. But I still thought I just needed a break… And then that wasn’t enough, but I thought surely my Hawaii holiday in Feb would put me in good spirits… And it did… Until I got back and was instantly miserable again.

Like, I was showing up to work every day feeling awful. I’d wake up with that all too familiar flutter of anxiety in my stomach, and I’d have to remind myself how to breathe for the whole fucking day, even when literally nothing stressful happened, because just BEING there stressed me out. Fucking existing stressed me out. And I was putting all my energy into getting the job done, not letting people down, smiling at people when they said “good morning” and “have a good night”, joining in on team discussions, when all I wanted to do was fucking disappear. And it was just getting worse and worse and March and April felt like the two longest months of my life (like, I legit even now, can’t believe it less than 2 months between me getting back from Hawaii, and me handing in my resignation).

And then on April 11 I got into the office and I had this email from our HR rep asking if I could make myself free to meet with him and my manager about my performance.

And I sat there while they brought up all these tiny things that I hadn’t even considered. All these tiny little things, like not offering to stay back and help while we were down a coord, not being 100% open to provide training for the Sales team, being ‘withdrawn’ from the team, not ‘being a team player’. Apparently ‘members of the team, as well as members from other departments’ had commented on my ‘negative attitude’. And it took everything in my power not to burst into tears, because all the things they were saying were probably true, it just meant I hadn’t been holding it together as well as I thought I had. And yet they’d never said a single fucking word to me. No one asked if I was okay, if something was going on. No one asked me to stay back, asked why I wasn’t joining in, why I wasn’t being helpful. No one fucking mentioned anything to me, so I thought things were business as usual, and I was putting in the appropriate level of effort (read: EVERY OUNCE OF IT I HAD) to get my job done, and get it done well.

And they brought up the TWO deadlines I’d missed and tried to make out like I’d not taken ownership of that and had tried to shift the blame onto other parties. Like, fuck no. No I did not. I went straight to Sales the moment I knew the deadline was going to be missed and let him know I HAD PERSONALLY FUCKED UP. Like, sure, when I was asked how it happened, I explained about lack of resources and whatnot, but I ultimately owned up to the fact that lack of resources wouldn’t have been a problem if I had noticed the looming deadline sooner. I owned my fucking mistakes – of course I fucking did, because I put myself down enough on a regular basis because OF COURSE IT’S MY FAULT, I FAILED AT DOING MY DAMN JOB.

And so I held it together, and I told them I’d take what they said on board, and I spent the whole fucking day on the verge of tears, and then the minute I could leave the office, I called my Dad, and I told him what happened, and I cried so damn much, and we discussed everything I’d been feeling and all my fears about what quitting would mean. And he told me to do it anyway.

And so I went in the next day and gave my 4 weeks notice, and I got the fuck out of there.

But it’s like it’s STILL eating at me. I literally feel like I’ll never be able to function out there in the real world again. I know that’s stupid and over-dramatic, but I am so fucking scared. I’m scared I’ll never be able to hold down a job because everything becomes too much for me in the end. I’m scared I’ll never have real dreams or ambitions. I’m scared I’ll never get anywhere that I want to go because of just that – I’m scared.

And this whole casual captioner thing sounds great in theory, but I currently lack the motivation. And the fact that I’m new to it means I’m slow, and being slow means I earn less money, and that makes me want to give up on the whole thing. And the more negative feedback I receive, the more I just cry. It feels like everything to do with this company makes me cry. Every. Fucking. Thing.

But I’m moving to Melbourne in 3 months. I can’t just find another job now.

And then it’s gonna be so hard for me to find a job in Melbourne with a trip to London booked for December that I can’t fucking afford.

And my parents are too precious. They can see right through me when I tell them I’m okay. They can see how scared I am, and they keep doing these beautiful little supportive things. Keep telling me I can come home any time. Keep telling me if I need money, they will give it to me. Keep offering to pay for my plane tickets, as though they have that kind of money anyway. They just want me to be happy, and it makes me feel so guilty for being so miserable.

And now I’m crying again, and this is the longest fucking rant I think I’ve ever done on this site, and it doesn’t even begin to describe what is going on inside my head.

I’m just scared. Terrified. I feel so alone, even though I know I’m not.

I’m so tempted to take my parents up on the offer to move back home, at least until I move to Melbourne, because I’m so fucking miserable here, and the week I just spent with them was the most care-free I’ve been in months.

But I hate that town. I hate that it’s so far away from everything fun. That’s why I moved to Sydney in the first place. And my parents drive me nuts. I love them, and I appreciate them, but I don’t think I could handle living with them for 3 months.

But I’m so, so scared… Of life. Of everything.

And most of all, I miss my ex best friend so much, every single day, and I hate that. I hate the doubt I feel about how that ended. I hate wanting to reach out to her and see if there’s still a chance to mend things. I hate that I feel like all of this would be easier if she was still in my life. I hate how isolated and alone I feel without her.

Ugh. And if you’ve read this, I’m actually so sorry because this is a self-indulgent mess and it’s actually kinda gross.

[protectjuminhan]

Bella, could you tell us a story of something (that you hadn't shared yet) that made your relationship with Matthew stronger? Only if you want/can, and ofc thank u in advance! It's really cute how you talk about him! Makes me kinda believe in love ;)

Awwe! This one is what happend next that day, if you read part one please. This was a moment where i was trying to held in so much, and it didnt work. and Matthew had his patience and composure tested. It defiantly made us stronger when we got home and talked it over. im sorry for the swearing but its necessary to tell the story.

Part two:

April 29th, 2014:

“Would you like some clothes? I know you have a limited amount of them.” He was right, i only owned what i could fit in my suitcase at the time, and what i picked up from smaller stores on sale. He had finaly come around and wasent mad anymore, because he got back into ‘Lets find something sexy to convince her to buy’ mode. His playful face when trying to help me shop is something i was to patent and sell to to the general public, because its SO DAMN CUTE. “What about here?” He point to a higher end fashion store, one i would have to pray to the gods to find something in my size.

“Maybe not that one..” But he had already went in ahead of me. I walked in, and was greeted by the store manager, i think. She looked me up and own and bluntly stated “You may want to try a different store. Nothing here will fit that.” Point to my stomach. She wasent even trying to spit at me or anything, she just stated it like she was bored and didnt want to help me look for no reason. RUDE ASS BITCH. So she turned around and noticed Matthew, and smiled. Oh. My. God. Im not a jealous person most of the time. Most.  “Can i help you sir? Trying to find something for a special lady? Anyone with you on their arm must be a goddess.” Oh, you didnt understand lady.

“Yeah, shes curvy, do you have anything that is ment for heavier chested girls?” He kinda stuttered a bit, because she was pretty, you guys know that drill.  “yes! this section over here is the plus size section. Girls with big boobs or a nice butt have this section, and smaller girls over there. i didnt think you the guy who likes a little meat on his women. She must be so pretty, with how handsome you are!” She was laying it on thick. Trying to eaither get his number, or him to buy something. I stood back because when i get mad, i get kicked out of places for being sarcastically rude. He smiled akwardly, and made his way to the sweater dress he was eyeing up from outside, seen its size, and proceeded to turn it down. it was going to be to tight. (I have a reaaaaaally big chest, so alot of outfits wont fit there or will ride up in the belly part to compensate for space.)

“yeah, shes wonderful. I asked her out in high school. I like her curves, Her skin is soft, and i dont mind that shes got a little more, beanpoles are hard to hug with these arms.” “and arms you do have sir.” She slurred at him. He walked over to the bra section, and found one close to something i already have. Black and grey plaid, with black lace around the edges, and they had one in my size. He took it off the shelf and took it to the counter, turning around to see me at the door, being very quiet. THEN THIS BITCH OH MY GOD. “Is she making you uncomfortable sir? I asked her to leave already, nothing here will fit her. “ Looking right at me “We dont service fat people. You lot ruin our brand look. Now get out.”

*insert sinister chuckle* You guys dont understand, Matthew and i haddent had our first fight yet. We had ran into this problem before, but not as bad. It got worse when i got pregnant, but we found a way to cope and make it funny by then. Let me make this next part clear. I had never seen Matthew tap into that “The fuck did you just say” Yandere side yet.   All guys have one when being protective of their S/o.

“Can you come here?” He was looking at me with eyes i could not describe. Those eyes you see when someone is being dead calm. Trying not to strangle someone on the spot dead calm. I stepped forward, a little hesitant, because i knew something was wrong. “Do like this? Its really pretty.” “Yeah, it looks like one i have at home.” “Good, I thought it looked nice.” ‘Umm, that is one i have a set for and its one i wear when we sleep together, of course you like it. Whats wrong?’ was my thoughts. He pulled out his card and paid for it without having me take money out of the jar. And hands me the bag after he paid for it. “Next time we fuck, please wear this one, okay? I like the way the colors compliment your eyes. Lets find another store to buy clothes. This ones staff is horrible to talk to, considering all she was doing was attempting to get in my pants. what bad service.”  

“Yeah, i hear (insert store) had amazing service.” He wrapped his arms around me with all the bags still in his hand, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Noone disrespects my Queen and gets my Queens money. If i really didnt want to see you in this, i wouldn’t have bought anything. Lets go, my Queen.” (thats his favorite endearment) Of course she had to open her mouth. “This girl is the one you came in here for? Are you kidding me? shes so out of your league! Shes ugly and Fat, Why her? You would do better with me. And did you say you fuck her? What is she doing, paying you?” “Nope, In fact i gave her nearly 2 grand today as a birthday and late one year anniversary present. Now shut your moth before i contact your Superior and report you for being rude to us. She didnt do anything to you, and who i love doesnt concern you. Now, stop being a trash whore and leave us alone. My Queen and i are gonna give our money to anyone but you.” His face indicated he was repeating a phrase in his mind ‘hitting people is a bad idea’

When we got out of the store, he was silent. Not a good sign from someone who never shuts up. We reach one of those areas where there are sofas and phone chargers, and take a seat on the love seat, adding the bag to the chain system i made to prevent thefts. He set all our bags down and a little roughly pulled me closer where my only option was to wrap my arm behind his back. I felt it then, he was trembling. Men who tremble are on the verge of beating someones ass, or breaking down. Matthew looked like both at the same time. hes very emotional, and i just didnt say anything. i heard little gasps, those you hear from someone trying really heard not to cry by sucking in breaths. those sounds alone were breaking my heart, because none of her words were at him.  

“W-Why do please have to be so rude to people? We might have spent more than she will have in other customers all day, but instead she chose to shoo you out over your weight.” I forced my other arm out, in order to put it on his head. i put light strokes on his scalp. a sure way to calm him down and get him to let his feelings out. Creatures of habit will always be ones of habit. “Shhhh, you dont need to be upset over her simple-mindedness.” I tried to say, but he just shook his head. “Im tired of people telling me who i can and cant love. You ARE a goddess to me. And because you dont fit a type, i cant love you in their eyes. Why? Why the fuck do they get to tell me what to do?” He was ranting. Not being quiet about it. We were getting stares. I highly doubt he gave a single fuck at this point. We always got stared at.

“Matthew, i dont care. Your choices are your own. Just like her opinions are her own. She cant make you do anything but leave the store. People Make choice all the time and this was one you made..” “You make it sound like i chose you like a breakfast cereal. Thats not how this works.” He let go a little so he could dip his head into my chest, a habit when he feels insecure about something. “If you left me, i would rather live alone forever. Your love made me fix so many things wrong in my family. You arent a choice. If you would let me, I want to be together forever.” He was crying, I felt the tears on my exposed area of my chest. Do i make him cry harder by accepting? Do i ignore his statement? Do i make him laugh? Yeah, default. “You mean i have to deal with your crazy ass forever? i dont know if i can handle the puns. Oh god…. The puns.” I felt a chuckle followed by a sob or two. Bingo.

“Am i crazy for loving you?” Oh Fuck. I didnt know what to say. You see, Matthew isent perfect. you guys get the silly sappy stories, but hes really insecure about people loving him. Hes been abandoned and treated like a walking piece of meat so much he feels confused about everything. He felt like the only permanent thing in his life was me. This is called emotional co-dependency in a relationship. its not all that healthy, but no ones perfect. Its that troupe of “If You leave me ill kill myself! i cant live without you!” Saw He this far deep? No, hes not like that. But thats the jist of it.

“No, You dont chose who you love. And if thats me, im happy to have you as my personal eye candy, Koibito. You take good care of me, and i love you so much. Dont think that i dont love you just as much. Plus, you didnt hit her so i congratulate you there.” (Koibito means lover, or sweetheart. I mean it as sweetheart. Hes half japanese and says it to me all the time.) He relaxes a bit, chuckling again. He looked up at me with his joke-serious face “Is that all i am to you? Eye candy?” “Only the finest, i mean you are the hot one in this relationship!” I poked at his side, in a really ticklish spot, and got the reaction i wanted. That laugh that could cure cancer “Dont do that here, you will get REKT.”

We spent the rest of the day hand in hand, in all the rest of the store. I deduced that there was near 3 grand in that jar, and we spent about a thousand of it. I got a new system behind his back, because i wanted to play together later. i mean you know mall prices. a system and two shirts is 500$ smh calm down.

The point that was made here, a loosley put together one at that, is that life does have a path for you. There will be times you can branch off, and make your own. Matthew chose to go with me that day in high school. Life is like a book. Each chapter is a year. You write your book by living. No one will have the same book as you do, but they can connect, like a crossover au. If you quit writing you book, the reader will get sad. i know for a fact unfinished fan fictions are a pain to come across. Pain from life is never gone, its only shared with someone else so it doesnt feel so bad. My pain was my anxiety and self consciousness about my looks. Im not as beautiful as he is in 60% of humanities eyes. People love to comment on it, Oh well.  

Human nature and their capriciousness isent something you can fix. You just hope they have enough respect to not comment on it. Why? Because every human on this earth is beautiful. No one deserves to be told they are not to a human standard. You being alive is amazing, and you should be loved and cherished. This made me and Matthew stronger because he finaly came out and admitted to himself that i wasent there because of his looks. I was there because i love him, and he loves me. This is hard to say in relationships. But saying it is so important.

So let me say it a little louder for those in the back.

Humanities capriciousness to judge others is not something that can be overcome through degradation.

Only trust, communication, and understanding can help people overcome the impulsion and unpredictable decisions people that have to degrade others, instead of being respectful. I hope anything of this helps you understand that everyone deserves love, and some people are just hateful i dont have time for it haha.

[ecotone99]

Bipolar Disorder Wears Many Faces, and So Do I [MF]

I have Bipolar 1. There, I said it. It’s not something I usually talk about very much. I’m private about it because it’s something I really struggle with, and sometimes, I’m even embarrassed about it. Especially the times that I’m manic. But I’m not always manic- in fact, Bipolar has many different faces. For those of you who don’t know, there are three basic states you can be in when you have Bipolar 1: depressed, stable, or manic. Technically you can be hypomanic, too, which is a state of near-mania that is usually characterized by Bipolar 2, but the condition wears the same face as mania. Two of the states- mania and depression- are bad for different reasons. With mania comes irresponsible, life-changing decisions and high impulsivity. Mania is toxic to the brain and can cause someone to ruin their own life, but while you’re manic, you feel like you’re on top of the world. Depression brings with it suicidal ideations, feelings of hopelessness, and a deep despair that eats into the soul.

It was the end of April. I had had a rough go of it recently due to my manic episode in September and my subsequent depression in the following months. I had been absolutely crippled by this depression largely because of my mania. I had done so many things I was ashamed of, made so many decisions I regretted, but at the time I had been so happy and carefree. The months after that were spent picking up the pieces of the destruction I had left in my wake.

Now, though, it was almost summer. My summer classes would begin soon and I had work at the funeral home to keep me busy. I had more structure in my life, and things finally started to feel…better. I had recently moved, partly to get away from the ruin I’d left behind, partly for mortuary school. But mostly to get away. I was in a new place, on my own (except for my faithful pug), with a new career path and no friends or family in the area. I felt conflicted because part of me was lonely and nervous- this was the most “adult” I’d ever had to be- but the rest of me was so excited to begin a new life. This, coupled with a new therapist who finally got me on the right medication, helped me level out. I was actually able to experience joy again, this time without being destructive. I could finally put on my Stable Face.

I probably should have mentioned this, but when I said that Bipolar has many faces, I meant that literally. At least, in my case. I have three faces I can wear, but they will only look natural if my mood matches the face. For example, if I’m depressed and I try to wear my Stable Face, the flesh will be askew and the skin won’t line up like an ordinary human face. Think of the cockroach alien flesh suit from ‘Men in Black.’ Yeah, not so pretty. But you know what? Bipolar isn’t pretty either.

When I’m not using them, I keep my faces in a jar by the door. The little window lets in the perfect amount of sunlight for my faces to get their proper amount of vitamin D without having to actually set them outside. I’m sure the neighbors wouldn’t be pleased about that anyway. My Depressive and Manic Faces floated flaccidly in a mixture of formaldehyde and other preservatives that I managed to sneak home from work. Every year, I would change out the mixture and clean the jar.

Tongs in hand, I dangled my Stable Face over the kitchen sink and began to rinse off the chemicals. I made sure to scrub inside and out, especially around the holes for my eyes and inside the nose, because formaldehyde always makes my eyes and nostrils burn. Then, I gently patted it dry with a clean towel and ran my fingers across the loose skin. The brow was not furrowed like the Depressive Face I’d been wearing for so long, and the eye holes weren’t wide and wild like my Manic Face. No, this face was relaxed and at peace. It also wore the slightest hint of a smile, its lips turned up at the edges.

I brushed my hair back up into a bun and began to apply my Stable Face. For the first time in forever, it fit perfectly. I gently pasted down the edges to cover the exposed flesh and muscle tissue beneath the skin, then I looked in the mirror and flashed myself a smile. It actually looked genuine, and I could practically feel the endorphins rushing through my body. I added a little makeup, and voila! The perfect face. I looked at my reflection and felt confident and beautiful.

I was still admiring myself when I heard a noise. I was in the bathroom, so I didn’t hear the initial click of the jimmied lock, but I did hear the slight creak of the un-oiled hinge on my front door. My ears pricked up, and I heard my pug begin to growl from the entryway. Suddenly, she yelped and bolted into the bathroom with me. I scooped her up and closed the bathroom door with my back against it, heart beginning to race. Someone was in my apartment. I held my breath and tried to keep my dog as quiet as possible. The intruder was rifling through my things, looking for valuables. I cursed myself as I remembered that I’d left my purse right out in the open.

After a few minutes passed that seemed more like hours, I finally heard the door shut. I expelled my breath in a heaving sigh and placed my dog back on the ground. She had stopped whining, so that probably meant she couldn’t smell the intruder in the apartment anymore. I peeked around the edge of the bathroom door and into the front room. There was no one. I relaxed a little, stepping out of the bathroom and into the front room to check my purse.

Oddly enough, nothing had been stolen out of my wallet. The whole purse was untouched. I furrowed my brow and then had to reposition my forehead to undo it. I went to the front door and, sure enough, the lock had been picked. Shaking my head, I looked down at the small table to my right. On top of it sat my bowl of keys, and on the shelf beneath sat my jar of faces.

I mean…face. There was only one. Panicking, I picked up the glass jar and examined it from all sides. Still, there remained only one. My Depressive Face. Someone-the intruder- had stolen my Manic Face, the most dangerous of all my faces. With that face, some serious, serious damage can be done. Now, I’d never had anyone steal my faces before, so I wasn’t sure how this would all play out. Would my face fit on someone else? What would happen if they weren’t manic? How the hell was I going to get it back?

I thought hard about who could have possibly wanted to do this to me? The only people in the world that knew about my faces were me and my parents. I racked my brain for any enemies I might have made recently, thinking that maybe someone had come for revenge and instead found something so bizarre they had to take it. But they didn’t take both- just the one. Why? And how did they find out? I was on the verge of frustrated tears.

I’d had no visitors for weeks, maybe even months because of the depression I had just gotten out of. And I worried that with the extra fear I was now carrying I might need to slip my Depressive Face back on. I went to the mirror and adjusted my skin. It looked okay. Not perfect, but good enough to pass as a normal woman. I thought about calling the police about the break-in, but what would I tell them about what the intruder stole? I imagined a cop showing up at my house, leaning back with his hands in his pockets and examining my door.

“Yup, that lock’s been picked alright. Ain’t much we can do about it since they didn’t steal anything, just get your locks changed,” said the imaginary policeman. I huffed and called a locksmith, then I took my pug and left the apartment to go to the park. I just needed to get out of there for a bit, every second I was in there I felt like I was being watched. I made sure I hid my extra face. Once we were at the park, I read and my dog played, and for a moment, everything was forgotten.

That changed when I got back home. It was late in the evening by that time, and I was exhausted from the sun exposure and emotional trauma of the day. I’d just bid the locksmith goodbye as he finished up. I didn’t feel like cooking, so I ordered a pie from Papa’s Pizza for takeout rather than delivery. I’d gotten delivery from there the whole time I was depressed, and I was ready to get off my ass and out of the house, even if I wasn’t fully up to cooking my own food yet. What better way to relax than eating comfort food?

I kissed my dog on her forehead the way I always do before I leave the house, even if it’s just for a short while. I triple-checked that the new lock was secured before leaving to pick up my food. Then, I hopped in my car and put on some Zeppelin. I lost myself in the music and drove to the restaurant under a cloudy, darkening sky. When I arrived, I sat in the parking lot so that the song I was listening to could finish, then I got out and slammed the door behind me. My feet crunched on the gravel as I swung open the glass door and entered the establishment. I strolled up to the bored-looking middle-aged man at the register and gave him my name. He looked up at me.

“So you’re the special customer Katy was talking about. She loved your tips, man. Shame she was fired,” he said, and reached around to grab my pizza. Gears turned in my head.

“Fifteen, even.” Katy. Katy…that was the name that always popped up on my delivery app. She was the girl who had been consistently delivering me pizzas for months now- the only person that could have peeked inside my apartment and seen my faces. It had to be her.

“Wait, why was she fired?” I asked slowly, reaching into my purse to fish for my wallet. He shrugged.

“Started acting fuckin’ crazy. Kept saying her face was falling off, or something.” I bit my lip and nodded, trying to keep a straight face, no pun intended. I handed him the cash.

“Right, right. Did she say where she was going, by any chance?” He shrugged again.

“Just home, I guess. Said she didn’t need a job anymore anyway because she just became a millionaire.” I sighed. Classic mania. It all hit too close to home.

“Alright,” I said as he gave me change for the twenty, “Where is ‘home,’ then?” The man snorted.

“How should I know? I don’t look at employee records.”

“Well, could you show them to me?” He rolled his eyes.

“Ma’am…” he started.

“I’m gonna stop you right there. First of all, I am way too young to be a ‘ma’am.’ Second, you’re gonna show me that record,” I said, acting more confident than I actually felt. This time, he actually laughed. It was more like a hee-haw.

“Or what?” I hesitated for a second, then I had an idea. Tearing at the delicate glue that I’d used to paste my face to my head, I ripped off my Stable Face and showed him the raw, pulsating, muscular, exposed, gruesome tissues beneath. Immediately, a wet spot started to form in his jeans.

“Rah!” I screamed at him, lunging forward menacingly. Then, he passed out. I admit I had to stifle a giggle as I rearranged my face to the best of my ability. I’d never shown that to anyone except my parents.

Focus, I told myself. I walked behind the counter and wandered into the back of the store. The office was the first door on my right down the hallway that led from the kitchen. I approached the file cabinet and opened the top drawer. ‘Financial Statements,’ it read. I closed it. In the second drawer, I found what I was looking for. ‘Employee Records.’ I found Katy’s resume in the ‘Shred’ folder. Her address was listed right at the top. Perfect, now I knew where I needed to go.

I left the pizza parlor after repositioning the unconscious man so that he wouldn’t wake up with a kink in his neck. Then, I took my pizza and headed straight to Katy’s, eating in the car along the way. When I got there, there was only one car in the driveway. I hoped she lived alone.

I knocked on the door, softly at first, but then louder after there was no answer to the first knock. A light flicked on in the doorway and I heard footsteps approach. Slowly, the door opened, but only just a crack.

“What is it? What do you want?” said a gruff female voice.

“Katy? It’s me, Isabelle, your best customer. I think you have something of mine?” I heard her gasp on the other side of the door. She paused to consider her next move, then sighed and opened the door fully. It was me. I mean, she was me. It was like looking in a mirror, except the body was different. She had my face, and it was a face I was oh, so familiar with. Wild-eyed and not quite lucid, but damn, it fit her perfectly.

“You can come in. Sit over there on that old couch, I’m tossing it tomorrow and buying all new furniture for this place.” I didn’t sit.

“Katy, I know you must have a lot going on, but I need my face back,” I said patiently.

“Well yeah, this is the busiest I’ve ever been in my life, so I’ll make this quick. Look, it’s not like I wanted to steal your face. I actually never even noticed the jar on your shelf until my own face started to peel off one day. And then I robbed you, and everything changed! Oh, my life is just perfect now! I’m gonna sell the house and buy a big van, you know? Like, the old-fashioned Volkswagen buses? And I’m gonna travel across the country and live off of the land. I’ll be blogging and taking photos the whole time if you want to follow my adventures- after all, it will be your face that makes me famous. Tell you what, we can even split the profits!” She spoke with such genuine zeal and excitement, I couldn’t bear to be the one to tell her that she was just delusional, that it didn’t make sense to buy new furniture for a house she that was planning to sell, that her life didn’t change at all- she did. And now she was about to destroy herself without help.

“Katy, listen to me,” I said, formulating a plan in my mind, “I’m gonna make you a promise, okay? If you give me back my face, your life is going to get so much better. And I can take you to a place full of people who will recognize all of your faces, and just how beautiful each of them are. But they have to be your own.” She blinked at me, skeptical. I continued.

“Look, bring me your face, the one that fell off.” She shrugged and went to fetch it. When she brought it out and I looked at it, I felt a pang of sympathy. She was so beautiful, yet she couldn’t accept herself. Her flesh had rejected itself. I gently took the face in my hands. It had only been a day, so the fact that she hadn’t preserved it in formaldehyde wasn’t that big of a deal. I would have to tell her about that trick, though.

“Now, can you do something for me? It’s not going to be easy, but I need you to trust me, because I’ve stood in your shoes before. I need you to give me back my face, and then you need to face yourself. We’re going to patch you up as best as we can, and then we’re going to go on the most important adventure of your life.” Katy nodded and bit her- my- lip. We went into the bathroom together and I helped her by getting my long fingernails under the edge of the skin to peel off the rest of the face. Once it was off, I sighed with relief, then I folded it up and slipped it into my purse.

“Okay. This isn’t going to be perfect, but we’re gonna do our best,” I said. After a half hour of glue and two hours of makeup, she looked reasonable enough to pass as a slightly-deformed woman. By the time I got her to the hospital, I knew that she would be in capable hands and that her face would readjust alongside with her medications over time. The medical staff would probably be baffled. I think she realized what was happening on the car ride over, but she didn’t try to fight me. Deep down, she knew that something was wrong and that she needed all the help she could get. I let her eat the rest of my cold pizza.

Once they were ready to take her back, we exchanged a hug and waved goodbye. I slipped her a small piece of paper with my phone number on it.

“Sometimes it gets lonely in there, so… Just call anytime.” She smiled genuinely at me as a tear rolled down her own cheek.

“Thanks, Isabelle. Things are going to change again, aren’t they?” Her voice cracked.

“Yeah, they’re gonna change. But remember when I said that this is the most important adventure of your life. It might be grueling, and sometimes you might even hate it. But it’s a path you’ve gotta take.” Katy nodded.

“The most important adventure of my life,” she echoed thoughtfully. I gave her hand one last squeeze before they took her away. I knew we would keep in touch.

It’s been a year since Katy stole my face, but in that time, she’s managed to build faces of her own, and I’m proud to say that she’s been wearing her Stable Face consistently for 9 months now. I’ve still got mine on, too. We’ve still got a long way to go, but now, we get to be our best selves, and we’re doing it together. I can’t wait to see what face she’ll be wearing when I pull out the engagement ring tonight.

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