#like fucking christ we have to put up with my dads crappy music in the living room

[bisexual-ashe]

i s2g im abt to murder my neighbor. like. all day. he blasts music in his garden, which is like right next to the back of our house, so we can hear it if we're sitting in the kitchen/bathroom or my room etc etc

and he listens to. total SHIT. like clubbing songs. really shit fucking clubbing songs that make me want to bash my skull in.

like bro either learn to like actual GOOD music, or learn to wear fucking headphones because i a THIS close to yelling at him out the window LMAO

[thebattlelost]

A Christmas tale of one idiot. Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house screaming was heard as he was killing his spouse with blood splatter on everything including the mouse the children up stairs are laid up in their beds coughing and sneezing with Covid 19 temperatures soaring with breathing becoming harder I am sure Santa Klause will likely find them long dead. Do I have your attention just a reminder that we now have two more days until Christmas where more suicides are recorded then any other day of the year so when someone says to me "Have a happy holiday"  I want to throw up making me want to pick up a big rock wrap it in the prettiest Christmas paper place a pretty bow on it then smile as I throw it through their God damn window while I am screaming "here bitch is your fucking HoHoHo,"  Then all of the Christmas lights hanging everywhere I can see on everything they can find looking making it look like a stupid Disney movie causing the cost of electricity to go up giving all the crooks, the ones in suites the greedy bastards who care about nothing but themselves besides that, it hurts my eyes so bad that I want to break every single bulb-like it is a bubble wrapper or start taking target practice and shoot every mother fucking one of them then take the wire that's a lot of copper for the scrappers out there and wrap it around those executive necks then hang them up by the chimney with  care as I fill the house with gas and a yuletide log then light it on fire causing a mile wide explosion so Santa Clause would not miss out on the carnage and so he can look down right at me and kiss me ass from the air   then when the carolers come howling all of those stupid songs that hurt my ears wearing ridiculous clothes that   a clown would not even wear making me want to take my hose turn it on full blast and spray them down like two dogs humping and a partridge in a pear tree, then go to my room and turn the lock then place a note on my door that says I killed Santa Clause right down Santa clause lane so Christmas would be canceled for cutting me off on the road due to the fact that he is an asshole. so take your damn cheer and Happy New Year and shove them up to your ass. I mean everywhere you go you will see the best of all humanity putting up Christmas trees with all that shiny tinsel of Red and green buying overpriced gifts standing in line for hours to buy presents with money they do not have to spend in the first place using all their rent and bill cash on people they do not even like or who do not care about them, I mean really who in the hell needs ten stuffed animals that cost twenty cents to make in all shapes and sizes bending you over the table costing ridiculous prices or ugly sweaters that make you sick or crappy tasting fruitcakes that have been around since Nixon was in office while they are killing trees tearing down the rain forestand filling up the dumps with billions of tons of trash and litter all for what the hallmark channel made up  all the holidays that are supposed to be celebrating the day our Lord and King Baby Jesus Christ and maybe even baby Yoda was born, another thing you know what I bet Jesus was pissed off growing up only getting one gift with a card that said, Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas because if that were me I would be like Whoa "yo hey  whats this bitch one gift you cheap mother beeeeeeep" I will smite your ass and flood your crops, hey dad will you send a plague of wasp, I mean what is the deal with holiday spirit because there is nothing at all to cheer about, I mean the poor keep getting poorer living on the streets they got no money for presents, hell that cannot even eat, you have the television showing all the specials the ones where everyone gets presents making those unfortunate children feel like shit, because of who they were born into Imean I guess they get the gift of their father being locked away in prison who spent all the Christmas money on cocaine bail and woman for beating his mother half to death who is nothing but a whore drug addict passed out on the floor of the kitchen so hey kid have yourself a Merry Christmas I hope you get presents but he won't instead, he will be a foster kid living from home to home oh and son Happy Holidays even though your parents died a day ago hit and killed by a fucking drunk driver coming home from a Christmas party full of holiday spirit then walked away without a scratch saying, I did not do it there you go kid your parents were in the car on the way home sorry but Happy Holidays we saved the presents they are a little soaked with and guts oh wait there is you dads eye t will take that. Then you have the ones at home to face the dark all alone they want to laugh and smile but can't because of mental health they have depression or anxiety or some other form of a mental kind of disability no one to help them they never believe them only saying things like take a pill or twenty just fake a smile until they find them hanging by a rope by the chimney with care, dead who knows how long they been hanging there or holding a gun still, been dead two weeks all red and green and it ain't no Christmas spirit that blood splatter or sitting in a car that is full of presents and cookies and candy smothered and covered by carbon monoxide and oh hear that Christmas music blaring full of the Happy New Year where you find the addicts on the streets trying to snort up all of the white powder or the ice that has fallen or those heroes in places unknown fighting and dying for what? jingle bells and IEDs singing all they want for Christmas is their arms or legs they were blown away when they stopped and searched foreign Santas and his elves carrying a hundred pounds of explosive and radioactive Christmas toys so I say screw the holidays take your cheers I do not want to hear about Rudolph or a snowman or how those rich kids got fifty thousand dollars worth of toys but threw them all away and   killed their parents because they did not get what they asked for so take your jingle or I will kick your balls and tell Santa that if he comes here he will see naughty when I Claus his eyes out then shoot his reindeer mounting their heads on my wall,  so all of you greedy  suit-wearing bottom dollar soul-sucking corporations stop shoving your Christmas bullshit down the throats of those who have nothing at all to give, stop harassing our kids and charging forty dollars at the overcrowded malls to see your crappy looking smells like he has been drinking child molesting fake Kris Kringle figuring the kids will throw a fit so the parents will have to spend all that money. so take your HoHoHo and shove it up your holiday spirit and go back to hell with the other demons. 

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night, Poet Richard M Knittle Jr. A Poet's Journey

[iwakurodai]

I’ll Help You || Richie Tozier

requested? Yes by my ex-wife @yourfinnwolfhard

richie x reader but like he ends up staying in Derry and reader comes home and they end up rekindling their love or some shit Fluff. she’s really successful and he isn’t.

fluffy

Age range 23-25

Warnings? Cursing, distant, rude, parents

tag list for now: @multi-parker @strang-ersclub

(Y/n) never really planned on coming back to Derry, Maine but with her little sister’s birthday coming up she had to visit. She’s coming back to Derry for the first time in years. (Y/n) remembers leaving Derry in tears when she was 18, leaving her best friends for a job she thought she would never get. Coming back brought a lot of memories she thought she’d never get back.

(Y/n) hops out of the car and bounces to the front door. Knocking loudly, smiling big, waiting for her little sister to open the door. A snap of locks rattle the door and it creaks open as the freshly sixteen year old peaks behind the wood. A wide grin stretches across the girls face and she throws the door open before wrapping (y/n) in a hug.

“(Y/n)! I missed you so fucking much!” (Y/s/n) shouts, pressing her cheek into (y/n)’s shoulder. (Y/n) hugs her back tighter before pulling back to look at her face.

“Holy shit! You’ve grown,” (y/n) exclaims as (y/s/n) drags her into the house where their parents were sat with lunch.

“You haven’t seen me in seven years,” (y/s/n) explains sitting (y/n) down and sitting next to her.

“Hi mom, dad,” (y/n) says to the very distasteful parents, her father nods back and her mother harrumphs and looks back down at her food. (Y/n) rolls her eyes and turns to (y/s/n). “How about we go out and I’ll buy you a new record.”

“Oh my gosh! Yes!” (Y/s/n) bounces in her seat, hurrying to finish her food. Their father clears his throat, annoyed at his own daughter. “Sorry, can I go daddy?” (Y/s/n) asks sweetly after wiping her mouth. (Y/f/n) grumbles before nodding.

“Be back by 7,” He grunts, (y/s/n) squeals before jumping up out of her seat and rushing to rinse her plate. “I’m watching you (y/n),” (y/f/n) glares causing (y/n) to roll her eyes and get up.

“Let’s go,” (y/n) nods towards the door to lead her sister to her car. (Y/s/n) follows her sister out the door bursting with questions as they duck into the car.

“What’s it like being a famous radio star? How did you do it? Do you get payed a lot? Is Beverly Hills really pretty?” (Y/s/n) is giddy as she watches (y/n) drive out of the driveway and into the street.

“It’s not as it’s all cut out to be. I did it with my amazing skills. I get paid 17 to 30 thousand a show. Beverly Hills is gorgeous,” (y/n) answers her gaping sister.

“What!” (Y/s/n) shouts, turning to (y/n) with shock.

“I’ll explain more when we’re in the shop, now let me show you real music. Not the crappy stuff dad makes you listen to,” (y/n) reaches to turn up the radio and lets her sister revel in the best music she had.

“Ok, (y/s/n), choose some tapes and a couple records and we can go,” (y/n) said as they walk into the record shop. “I can’t wait for dad’s face when he sees your new music collection,” (y/n) chuckles, pushing her little sister off towards the tapes as (y/n) walks towards the vinyls. She scans the names before smiling and making a beeline to the Led Zeppelin records. Flipping through she hears footsteps come closer which causes her to look up. She smiles impulsively and glances at the name tag.

Her heart stops and memories from years before flood into her head like a waterfall. She stares at his face with wide eyes and feelings she didn’t remember come rushing back. He stares back, remembering exactly who she was. “(y-y/n)?” Richie asks, his voice cracking slightly, he was shell-shocked with her appearance. The last time she was here she said she was never gonna come back.

“Yea. Hi Rich,” She says awkwardly, not really knowing how he was gonna react. She was confused as to why he was still in Derry. “What are yo-” (y/n) starts but is cut off by the force of a hug. “Oh,” She whispers before wrapping her arms around him.

“Jesus Christ, I missed you,” He mutters, pulling away to look at the girl. “You are still so beautiful,” He whispers causing the girl to blush and smile at the taller man.

“Thank you,” (y/n) whispers, opening her mouth to say something but gets cut off by a squeak and a slap of skin. She turns to see two girls, one looking very unimpressed and the other had her hand covering her mouth. “Hi,” (y/n) says nicely, smiling at the two girls. The very excited girl waves back and walks slowly to (y/n).

“Hi, we listen to your radio show all the time,” The excitable girl stammers quietly and grips the hand of her friend. (y/n) smiles and chuckles, turning to glance back at Richie for a moment. “Uh, do you guys want a picture?” (y/n) asks awkwardly, tilting her head in question. The happy girl nods rapidly and walks over to (y/n) after handing a polaroid camera to her friend.

(y/n) and the girl pose before they two girls leave. (y/n) turns around and sees Richie helping her little sister with tapes. He spins and gives a look to (y/n) before walking towards the back room. (y/n) glances at her distracted sister before following Richie into the back. Her eyes scan the small room and find Richie putting boxes on a shelf.

“Did you not leave Derry?” (y/n) asks softly, Richie glances at her before continuing to put things on shelves. (y/n) watches as he thinks over his words as he grabs a couple records.

“I didn’t, I have no money to do so. So I took this dumbass job took get money to leave but rent is a bitch,” Richie says passive aggressively as he passes (y/n) to leave the back, she follows. “I’m fine with it, it’s just this fucking town,” Richie chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. (y/n) furrows her eyebrows and tilts her head in question, crossing her arms. Richie glances at (y/n) and sighs before setting the box of records down.

“I’ve been in this shit town for twenty-four full years, I can’t leave this shit town cause I have no money. You left as soon as you could with the hope of me following you, but that idea went down the fucking drain because my asshole parents don’t wanna give me money. So I’ve been stuck in memories watching each of my friends leave me, the only person left is Mike and he’s always in the library. I live in a small ass apartment in the shittiest part of town. I have to live with a baseball bat next to me at all times or I’m risking a breakin,” Richie rants quietly to (y/n), his face getting closer and closer to her face. She stares at his face with sad eyes, he backs up slowly, looking around.

“When do you get off,” (y/n) asks in a whisper, glancing back at her sister who was balancing a couple tapes on her arm. “I wanna talk,” (y/n) continues, turning back to state at Richie. He bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at his boss who was now watching him.

“I have inventory today, how long are you staying?” Richie asks, (y/n) looks down to think. She was supposed to only stay until tomorrow but she could stay another day, even if her parents protest.

“Two days, you know my parents,” (y/n) says, tucking her hands in her pockets. Richie nods and takes a look at his watch. “Tomorrow? Quarry?” (y/n) mutters, looking up at Richie with hope in her eyes. She had a plan and she was gonna go through with it.

“Tomorrow, quarry,” Richie agrees, grabbing the box of records and walking off to set them in their correct place.

“So, who was that? An old boyfriend?” (y/n) hears (y/s/n) questions with a smirk covering her voice. (Y/n) shakes her head with a smile.

“Somewhat.”

“I want you out by the next two hours,” (y/f/n) commands as (y/n) walks into the house after swimming at the quarry. (Y/n) clenches her jaw and stares her father in the eyes.

“Why are you such a fucking dick? What did I do to you? You are my father too,” (y/n) snaps, glaring. “At least let me say goodbye,” She grumbles watching as her father rolls his eyes and makes his way into the living room. (Y/n) rolls her eyes and makes her way up the stairs to (y/s/n)’s room. She enters and sees the newly 16 year old smiling at a picture as her brand new music plays softly.

“Hey,” (y/n) says softly causing her sister to slam the picture face down to hide it. (Y/n) raises her eyebrows and walks into the room slowly. “What was that?” (Y/n) teases, (y/s/n) glances at (y/n) and picks up the picture to show her.

“His name is Georgie Denbrough,” (y/s/n) whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of her music. (Y/n) tilts her head at the last name, it sounded familiar, and it was on the tip of her tongue. “He’s so sweet, and he’s bullied for his arm missing, but he doesn’t care. He jokes a lot but he knows his limits. He walks home home sometimes,” (y/s/n) rambles, (y/n) blanking out as she thinks of a time where she rambled like that about who she knew was working right then.

“I have to go, I’ll call you, I promise. Make sure you come to Beverly Hills when you turn 18, okay?” (Y/n) stammers, kissing her sister on the forehead and hugging her tight. “I love you,” (y/n) finalizes before bolting out of the room and straight out the house. She hops in her car and drives over the speed limit to the record shop where Richie would be sulking at the register.

(Y/n) parks haphazardly in a spot and runs into the store, causing Richie, who was falling asleep, to jump and scatter frantically. “(Y/n)? W-what’s? What’s going on?” Richie asks confused, walking around the desk as she storms up to him. (Y/n) grips his shirt and stand on her tip toes to press her lips to his. A messy kiss where their teeth clash and her nose smashes against his. His glasses that were once straightened were tilted and his hands were grasping her waist.

She pulls away slowly, as if she didn’t want it to end. She opens her eyes to see Richie staring at her with wide eyes, he was shocked and memories were surfacing just from his lips brushing against hers. “Come with me,” She mutters. Richie furrows his eyebrows, confusion laced in his expression. “I’ll help you, you can get a job at the studio I work at, maybe you host the show with me,” (y/n) whispers, Richie holds back a smile.

“I won’t have anywhere to live,” Richie whispers back, their bodies were still close. He didn’t want to leave her warmth and familiarity.

“I have a king sized bed,” (y/n) smirks as the expression of Richie’s face changes drastically. He finally let his smile loose and he kisses (y/n) softly again.

“Hey Dick! I quit!” Richie shouts, ripping the tag off his shirt and letting (y/n) lead him out of the store. He throws it into the store and hops in the car with (y/n) in the driver's seat. “Take a left up on Berkeley, you’ll find my apartment pretty close,” Richie comments as (y/n) starts to drive. The sound of a protesting Dick Marquee was heard behind the car as it drives down a street.

“You’ll like Beverly Hills, it’s just your kind of city,” (y/n) smiles at Richie as he smirks back lifting his feet up on the dash.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

[aliverosencrantz]

A Question

The door creaks open at three in the morning, and Alice Frisch-Trueman, age fourteen and drenched from head to foot, slides into her house after the worst night ever. It’s raining bad, so she peels off her waterlogged jean jacket and places it gently on the coat rack, watching to make sure it doesn’t unbalance the whole thing and keel over. Her flimsy Primark shoes are ruined but she’ll deal with them later; she steps out of them and, feeling her stomach grumble, enters the kitchen.

Cedrick Trueman, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, stands up from his seat at the breakfast bar. He has his arms folded and an eyebrow raised. “And what time do you call this?” he asks. Alice. Regrets. EVERYTHING.

“Hi Dad!” she starts, avoiding eye contact and leaning on the counter like she’s about to tell a funny story, because hopefully she is. She just has to think of it first, but God, she is so not in the mood. Her hands are still shaking a little, but she smiles to get into character. Why did she have to be caught by this father?! “Okay, so I was—”

“Don’t embarrass yourself, Alice. Coby’s already grassed you up.” Her father blinks, then looks closer. Alice doesn’t react for almost a full second, then not-so-subtly shoves her face into her hands, but it’s too late. She hears him inhale sharply, confirming he’s seen her puffy eyes and probably-runny-as-hell mascara.

“You’re…soaked,” he says carefully, and the anger in his tone melts away into concern.

Alice nods curtly. “Yeah well, obviously, it’s raining.” She goes on her tiptoes to reach a wall cabinet and starts rummaging around for something she can eat.

He sighs, and she freezes as she hears him walk up behind her. “No. Go take a warm shower and get into something dry before you freeze to death. I’ll make you something to eat.”

She turns around.  Dad looks kind of annoyed at most. His forehead is creased in worry and there are dark circles under his eyes. If he was going to yell, it would have happened by now. She sniffs and wipes a tear off her cheek. He offers a half-smile of sympathy, and she feels a little safer.

“Okay,” she says, her voice suddenly a lot smaller. She turns sharply out of the room and takes a few deep breaths before she enters the bathroom, because crying in the shower is a touch lamer than she’s willing to be tonight.

*

With her wet hair tied up in a towel, Alice goes into the living room, where the TV is playing a music channel on mute. Dad is waiting on the sofa with a plate of pizza cut into eight slices. He looks at her like she’s an abandoned puppy and she feels like she might start crying again. It’s not even a real problem. His pity is a joke. She sits down and takes a slice of pizza, which probably only tastes so good because she’s freaking starving.

“You didn’t have to walk home in the rain,” says Dad. “I would have picked you up if you’d called.”

She shrugs. “You would have been mad.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. For a few seconds she can’t hear anything except her own chewing.

“I’m not mad,” he says quietly. “I’m just…”

“Disappointed?” she finishes, quirking an eyebrow. “Please, Dad. Don’t embarrass yourself.” She takes two slices and puts them on top of each other like a sandwich. “I know you’re pissed,” she says through a bite.

“I was kind of pissed at first,” he admits.

There’s about half a minute of awkward silence. Alice breaks it. “Am I in trouble?”

“Oh, uh.” Dad turns and looks at her, then sighs. “Looks like you’ve had a shit enough night already.”

She huffs, which is supposed to be a ‘yes.’

“You’re not in trouble,” he says, then turns the TV volume on, very quiet. “Jesus, is that My Chemical Romance? This is a classic rock countdown.”

He looks at her for agreement, and she stares back blankly. He shakes his head. “Since when are My Chemical Romance classic rock?”

Alice shrugs. “I dunno, this song is like a billion years old.”

“Jesus Christ. This is…” He keeps shaking his head. Alice feels a little better with the music on, even if she doesn’t really know the song, because the singer’s distraught screaming is cathartic. It also fills the silence a lot less uncomfortably.

“I like your pyjamas,” Dad says finally.

She looks down. She’s wearing the Alice in Wonderland pyjama top, but not the matching bottoms. Instead it’s a pair of shorts with little kitties all over. “Thanks,” she says, but she’s too depressed to smile. “I’m starting a trend.”

He chuckles. She looks up and meets his eyes. She must still look pathetic, because he does that stupid concerned head tilt. “You want to tell me what happened?”

She shrugs and takes the towel off her head, then drapes it around her shoulders instead. “Kinda, maybe…it’s stupid.”

“Even if it’s stupid, I’m not going to be mad. Or laugh at you. Or whatever it is you’re worried I’ll do.”

She stares at him, and he stares back. “I promise,” he adds.

Alice takes a deep breath, mutes the TV again and turns around to face him. “Okay,” she says. “You…know I was at Ellen’s party, right?” He nods.

“Well, okay, like…you can’t tell anyone else, okay? You won’t tell Remy or Papa and especially not Syla’s mums or Auntie Xai or—”

“Your secret’s safe with me, provided you’re not about to confess to a murder.” Dad narrows his eyes and looks aside. “I’d probably have to tell some of the boys at MI6 to get that covered up.”

She smiles despite herself. “I didn’t kill anyone…yet.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I already said, it’s stupid. But I feel really…” She feels her eyes starting to well up again. “Ugh. I’m so dumb.”

“That’s not true,” he says, taking her hand. “At least, I was almost certainly a dumber teenager than you. Come on, Alice, what happened?”

She looks off to the side and rubs her eye. “Okay, well, the reason I had to go was because Ellen invited a certain, uh, person. And this person is a person who I happen to like.”

“Like, like-like?”

“Yeah, Dad, like a crush. I won’t tell you who, so don’t ask. And I wanted to see this person, and I thought maybe…like, I dunno, I was this close!” She holds her fingers really close together and screws her eyes shut. “We were getting along really well. On Friday, we sat together in Maths, and they helped me with quadratic equations and they touched my hand and it was really…”

Dad nods sagely.

“And…and I was maybe gonna say something tonight, before it fizzled out, but then, like, I didn’t know Ellen was going to invite Phoebe! And Phoebe is such a bitch, because she’s a crappy actor so she never gets a good part and she has to take that out on me.”

“Hm. Does Phoebe have a family who would miss her? If she went missing, and the government had no idea where, for example?”

Alice pretends she’s not laughing and continues. “There’s no way Phoebe likes my person. They’re not even friends, I don’t think she even knows their name, or anyone’s name except hers because she’s a self-centred bitch.” Alice kneads the couch with her fists. “Well, her and the person and a bunch of people got all high, and—”

“There were drugs at this party?” Dad sounds like he’s choking to death while also being shot in the chest. He’s trying to keep it together but his eye is twitching.

“Just weed, and it was before I got there, so relax.”

“Yes, of course, why should I worry about my fourteen-year-old daughter going to a party where teenagers take illegal drugs? Silly me, of course, I should just re—”

“You’re being judgey!” Alice folds her arms.

He holds up his hands. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Please continue.”

She shifts uncomfortably. “It was Spin the Bottle, and it was Phoebe’s turn, and she didn’t even spin it, she just kind of nudged it to point at the person I like and was all ‘OOOH WHOOPS’ like she thinks she’s cute, but she’s not, and…and they made out for like four minutes.”

Dad nods, looking slightly traumatised. “That’s…well, okay, what happened next?”

“I cried in the bathroom for like an hour, then I said I felt sick and I ran back here.” She reaches for another slice of pizza, but realises she’s finished it all. “Ugh.”

He breathes deeply, shuffles around so he’s facing her directly with his legs crossed in front of him. “I’m sorry, Al.”

“It’s, like, I know you don’t understand, and it probably sounds stupid compared to the deficit or the Middle East or whatever, but it still…really…hurts.” Her voice cracks on the last syllable, and she can see the panic flare up in Dad’s eyes before her vision goes blurry with tears. She lets him pull her into a hug and she cries onto his shoulder for a few minutes. His arm moves and the TV volume is on again. It’s not a screamy song now, but it gives her something to focus on that isn’t the memory of Phoebe’s smug fucking face. That is an invaluable service.

“I mean, I do sort of get it,” Dad says out of nowhere. “I was in high school once.”

She furrows her brow, because that’s true but she doesn’t like to think about it. “Did it ever happen to you?”

“Hmm…not really, no. But I did kind of do it to your Papa.”

Her head is up in lightning speed, and her eyes bore into his face. “Oh my God, what? With who?”

Dad gets a smile on his face like he’s suppressing laughter. “It was in our club, before we got together. We weren’t much older than you, actually. I kissed someone else, and I didn’t really know at the time, but apparently Parker was freaking out.”

“Who?” Alice asks, and Dad hesitates. “Oh, come on, who who who who who who who who!”

He covers his mouth with his hand to suppress another laugh. “Okay, okay fine,” he says. “I’ll tell you, but only because you’re sad and I want to cheer you up. This stays between us—you don’t tell your brother or sister, or your friends. Got it?”

“You got it.”

“God, definitely don’t tell Syla. I feel like she’d do something weird with this extremely classified top secret information that you are going to have the privilege of knowing.”

“Yeah, okay, I especially promise I won’t tell Syla, just tell me.”

“Okay,” he says levelly. “Okay, sure.” He breathes in deep and forces a straight face, but the corners of his mouth immediately curl up in a little smile again. “It was Mordov.”

There is a moment where the fabric of the universe tries to realign itself around Alice so that the world will make sense again. She can’t process that. She can’t have heard right. Her eyes feel like they’re going to pop out. “Shut up, it was not.”

“It was! Blue has a video.” He freezes, suddenly deadly serious. “Do not ask to see it, for both our sakes.”

Alice shakes her head in disbelief. “Mordov? Bruce’s dad Mordov?”

“Yep.”

“What, did you…were you going out with Mordov?”

“Nope. It was…I dunno, it was a weird joke? It just sort of happened.”

“Why did you kiss him?”

He shrugs. “It was fun?”

“You’re such a slut, Dad,” she says with a massive smile as she hits him with a cushion.

He gasps like he’s super offended, then grins and throws another cushion at her face. She lies back on the armrest and laughs for a minute. The song on TV changes to some ancient pop-punk anthem she’s sure she’s heard in Auntie Xai’s car.

“Mordov and I kissed, but it didn’t really mean anything,” says Dad. “We were just kids and we thought it was funny, no feelings attached.” He pauses. “I don’t think your person’s out of reach forever, kiddo. You don’t have to have them right now. It’s…I dunno, it’s not Game Over.”

Alice looks up at him. A strand of hair obscures her vision and she blows it away. “Yeah, maybe.” They smile at each other. “But just in case, you can still like, deport Phoebe, right?”

“Let’s keep that ace up our sleeve for now, okay Al?”

They laugh and he ruffles her hair. Everything sucks and it’s still the worst night ever, but she can’t discount the possibility that maybe she’ll be okay.

[summertime-writing-blog]

When Stars Align and Worlds Collide- Chapter 1

Summary: Life is made up of good and bad times. It’s always better to experience both with others by your side.

Kim Seokjin learns this when he ends up collecting a ragtag group of boys who somehow end up teaching him much more than med school ever could. Min Yoongi learns this when he realizes there are some people you can trust. Kim Namjoon, when he figures out how heavy grudges can be to carry. Jung Hoseok, after he sees that not everyone leaves and forgets. Park Jimin, recognizing the importance of self-care. Kim Taehyung, when he finds people who love him without hurting him. And Jeon Jungkook, when he finally understands how precious and limited time can be.

Through all this, ‘they can smile as long as they’re together.’

Genre: Angst/fluff, Coming of age, HYYH-based AU

Pairings: Hoseok x Jimin, Taehyung x Namjoon, Taehyung x Jimin (minor) Jungkook x Yoongi (minor) Jin x Yoongi (minor)

Rating: M

Warnings: Implied child abuse/neglect, Unhealthy relationships, Underage drinking, Referenced drug use, Mentions of suicidal thoughts/attempt, Anxiety attacks

 5 years earlier

Seokjin

It was raining, and he was going to be late. He was so going to be late. Of course, the one time he was running late for work had to be today of all days.

Jin was currently tearing the room apart, cursing his apartment and his job and his life, and everything else under the sun. He stopped and stood in the middle of the now messy living room, eyes frantically searching every inch.

‘I must be losing my mind. It has to be around here somewhere,’ he helplessly thought. He decided to call for backup.

“YOONGI!”

He heard a low grunt coming from his best friend-and-roommate’s room through his closed door. Sighing, he stomped down the hall to the last room and banged on the door (against the homemade ‘do not disturb’ sign’s warning).

“Yoongi, have you seen my work hat,” he began, “I’ve looked everywhere in this house, I’m going to be late! Then I’ll be fired, which means we’ll go broke, which means both of us will be out on our asses in the street! Do you—”

The door slammed open, cutting Jin off from his rant. Yoongi stood there—looking way too exhausted for his 22 years—with Jin’s work visor hanging from his bony fingers.

“You left it in the washer with my laundry yesterday. Stop screaming, it’s 6:30 in the morning,” Yoongi mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“And you couldn’t have told me this earlier? I have to be at the café in 10 minutes!” Jin yanked the hat from Yoongi, hurriedly snapping it around his head, his fluffy brown hair sticking up around the crappy Velcro flaps.

“Didn’t know you had work today,” the blond boy responded, heading back to his bed.

“We’ve lived together for almost two years and you don’t remember which days I work?”

“I don’t have enough brain cells left for remembering shit like that, Hyung.”

Jin sighed, fingers rubbing at his temples.

“You’re lucky I like you. I made pancakes for breakfast, there’s some left in the kitchen. I should be back around two, so we should have time to do dinner before I have to be at the bar.”

He got another grunt in response.

Taking that as an “okay”, Jin grabbed his pink Princess Peach umbrella (“it was on sale, Yoongi!” “Jesus Christ, I live with a child”), his keys and his wallet and headed out the door, rushing down the apartment building stairs.

Jin normally loves his job at ‘The Grind’, a small and homey café and bakery. His boss, Mr. Choi, is incredibly helpful and friendly for the most part, letting “his best baker” Jin take home some of the leftover stock when possible. The rough part is, having to be there a half an hour before opening time to get started on the baking. Which he wasn’t going to be, since the café opened in 5 minutes.

Today they were getting annual inspections done, and of course the universe would make him be late on the worst possible day.

That’s Jin’s life. Universe fuckery and Princess Peach umbrellas. Oh, and disappointing his parents, of course.

Jin subconsciously stepped harder on the gas pedal. He needed this job.

He also works nights part-time as a bartender at ‘Good Tymes’ an honestly questionable and seedy bar, which is decidedly less pleasant of a job than the café. But he’d been working there since he started university, and even though he dropped out and got the extra job at the café, he still needed both jobs. So, he deals with it. Like everything else.

“Jin, sweetie, your father and I just think you’re making a rash decision. You’ve already gotten this far, there’s no sense in quitting. What are you even going to do if you drop out now?”

“Mom, I just…can’t do it anymore. I don’t think I ever really wanted to in the first place.”

“You’re just going through a rough patch, that’s all. Everyone goes through moments like that in college. You’ll be fine; forget this dropping out nonsense. Your father is paying good money for that program.”

“Mom! You’re not listening to me. I don’t want to be a doctor! I feel like I’m turning into someone I’m not. This isn’t…this isn’t my dream. This isn’t what I want for my life.”

“Well, why don’t you just switch to another program then? Still a bit of a waste of the program tuition, but at least you’ll be working towards something. The law program there is very good too, they say. Or accounting!”

“I…don’t want to be a lawyer either… or an accountant. I don’t know what I want. That’s why I want to take a break. I need to figure out for myself what I want.”

“This is ridiculous Kim Seokjin. You’re being ridiculous. I knew that Min Yoongi character would be a bad influence on you. After everything your father and I have done to help you, this is how you’re repaying us?”

“This has nothing to do with Yoongi! I only ever started med school because you guys wanted me to!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me, young man. Your father wants to speak to you.”

“Mom I—"

“Seokjin. If you think we’re going to sit here and let you drop out of college, you must be out of your mind. I won’t have my only son throwing his future away because of some delinquent from the streets putting absurd ideas into his head about dreams, like he knows anything about life.”

“Dad, I’ve felt like this since before I even met Yoongi. I just can’t do it anymore, it’s driving me insane. I don’t want to quit school completely, I just need a year or two to figure myself out again.”

“…Alright. If you promise your mother and I that you’ll go back to university within 2 years, with a REASONABLE major picked, we’ll go back to helping you pay for school, and keep paying the truck’s insurance. BUT, you have to keep your job, start working full time. This isn’t a vacation. You’ll have to keep paying your rent on your own.”

“Yea, of course, definitely Dad. I promise. Thank you, thank you so much!”

“You better be sure about this Seokjin. This isn’t some game you can just start over.”

“I know. I’m sure. This is what I need to do.”

Yoongi

Shaking out his hair, still wet from the shower, Yoongi headed to the kitchen on a hunt for the pancakes Jin said he left for him. It was around noon, and Yoongi had a lot to get done before Jin got home. Dishes, probably, and vacuuming. Oh, and he promised Jin he’d take out the trash.

Technically, Jin doesn’t make him do all the housework. In fact, Jin is always telling Yoongi that he doesn’t mind cleaning, and that they can share the workload. However, Yoongi would often end up doing most of the work anyway. It’s the least he can do, he figures.

After all, Jin took him in when he was at his worst. And Jin’s the one working two jobs to pay bills and keep them from starving. Meanwhile Yoongi is just barely managing to sell enough of his music to get by with his part of the rent.

He leans against the wall and rubs his eyes, trying to ignore the stress and constant worry and guilt that always threatens to bubble up. No sense in thinking about all of that right now. He stands up straight and keeps walking.

‘I should be able to get everything done before two, no problem, it’s not too—’

His train of thought cuts off when he walks into the living room.

“Jesus Christ, Seokjin. What the fuck.”

The room was a sight. It looked like a mini tornado had torn through the small space. Couch pillows and throw blankets strewn all over the floor, bookshelves and side tables all disarranged, shoes everywhere except the shoe rack, and was that a Pikachu pillow pet on the floor? When did they even get that?

Yoongi lets out a deep breath. Alright, maybe some of this can wait until Jin gets back.

It was raining, and Yoongi was drunk.

Making his way down the familiar city streets at 1 in the morning, most of the usual places were starting to close up for the night. He wasn’t trying to go back to the party house yet though; too many fucking people, too much noise. So he was determined to find somewhere else to sit and have another beer... or two.

Jiho had told him about some bar that stays open until 3, but right now he couldn’t remember the name if he had a gun to his head. So he just kept walking.

After what felt like way too long in drunk-Yoongi time, he finally found a bar that looked like what Jiho had described. Some of the name sign’s lighting was out, and it was missing a few letters. Probably would have taken him a few seconds to figure out the name even if he was sober. He shrugged to himself and headed inside.

Surprisingly, there was still quite a few people there. Mostly depressed looking old men, but still. He wasn’t the only one, then.

Yoongi sat down at the end of the bar, looking around. It wasn’t very clean; smoke hung in the stagnant air, and there was a mysterious stickiness to the floor tiles that were broken and chipped in some spots. The worn out jukebox in the corner by the other end of the bar was currently playing some old, mumbling sad country song over the crackling speakers, too quietly for Yoongi to hear it clearly. There were a couple of ancient looking pool tables and some electronic dart machines in the back, one with an out of order sign carelessly taped to the front.

“Hey, you want to order something, or are you just admiring the beautiful scenery?”

Yoongi’s head snapped up toward the voice, and he tried to focus on the person speaking to him, his head swimming.

His eyes widened.

In front of him was a gorgeous guy, probably around his age or a little older, broad shouldered and tall. He was smiling at his own joke, his deep brown eyes shining and crinkling at the corners; his white teeth seemed to glow. His black hair fell effortlessly in place—it looked so soft, feathery. Yoongi wanted to touch it.

“Uh…yea. Just a. I mean. Just a house draft, please.”

“ID?”

Yoongi clumsily dug his ID out of his ratted wallet, thanking whatever deity above that he didn’t lose it somewhere back at the house.

The bartender looked closely at the ID, concluding it wasn’t a fake. He looked again at the reddish brown-haired boy sitting in front of him, looking like he had lost everything he had in the world—way too skinny, his face sunken in, triangle shaped eyes displaying a lifetime of exhaustion.

He offered another smile, giving back the ID, “Yoongi, hm? What are you doing out so late by yourself?”

Yoongi glanced at the man, wondering whether or not to answer that question. He was tired, so tired. But he wasn’t sure about spilling his guts to some random dude at the bar, either.

“You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to, it’s fine. My name’s Seokjin, by the way, but you can just call me Jin.”

“Like the drink?” was the only thing Yoongi’s alcohol and weed soaked brain could think to slur out of his mouth.

Jin rolled his eyes, “Yes, Yoongi, like the drink,” he complied, sounding like he’d heard it a thousand times. However, he was smiling just as brightly as before.

Then, his facial expression suddenly looked a little more serious, and he nodded to himself.

“I’m going to go get your beer really quick. I’ll be right back, okay Yoongi? Don’t disappear on me.”

For the first time in a long while, Yoongi smiled.

“I’ll be here waiting, I won’t go anywhere. Promise.”