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myosotisa · 10 months

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Like Real People Do - e.m.

Part 2/2 - What did you bury?

ǁ summary: After your altercation with Eddie, you find yourself facing a lot of questions and uncertainty. Attempting to look closer at why you're in rehab, how you feel about him, and what the future holds for you feels like more than you're willing to take on until you realize it's only hurting you more not to.

ǁ tags: angst, hurt/comfort, heavy themes. depictions of inpatient rehab in the 90s. implied fem!Reader, no pronouns used, no y/n. strangers to reluctant acquaintances to lovers. happy ending!

ǁ content warning: both parts will contain mentions of drug use, struggling with addiction, self worth, society's view on drug users, grief, and death by drug overdose. brief mention of domestic violence and drug assisted disordered eating. please consume thoughtfully and if you have any questions before reading, feel free to message me.

ǁ word count: 12k

ǁ Part 1 ǁ Read on AO3 ǁ

It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people. ― Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch

You’re sitting on an examination table in the hospital wing in a paper gown with Dr. Lincoln fluttering around you like a nervous mother. Penelope had taken you right here after you had gotten all of the dirt off of your hands and pants, explaining Mr. Ford and Dr. Lincoln insisted on seeing you. Despite your assurances that you were completely fine, just shaken up, they had gotten you into a gown and prepared for a full exam.

“Are you able to lift your arms above your head?”

You do as asked, face stoic despite the pain in your shoulders from the movement.

“How about twisting? Carefully! How does that feel on your lower back?”

Performing the action, you also easily hide the discomfort the throbbing in your tailbone causes when you shift in your seat. “It feels fine.”

“And your head? You didn’t hit it? Does it hurt? Blurry vision, nausea, confusion?”

“No,” you sigh out, quickly losing patience with Dr. Lincoln’s anxious questioning. You can’t remember now if he was like this when you were first admitted or if he’s going overboard now because he’s worried about some kind of lawsuit. “I told you, I’m fine.”

He plucks your chart off the edge of the table, pen clicking as he begins to write furious lines along the bottom of the page. “I can give you some ibuprofen for the pain. Nothing stronger than that, of course. Given the circumstances.”

A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. “I don’t want anything. It doesn’t hurt.”

Liar.

Penelope steps up from where she was having a hushed discussion with Mr. Ford off to the side. “Are you sure? It looked like quite the fall.”

“I’m sure. I don’t want any painkillers.”

This pain is good. I need it. I deserve it.

Mr. Richard Ford steps up then – a severe looking man in his late 50s, always dressed in a freshly pressed suit and tie, with his hair combed just so and his mustache neatly trimmed across his upper lip. You’re still not sure if he’s related to the Ford’s that founded the facility or if it’s just a coincidence that he shares the surname.

His dress shoes click across the tiles as he approaches you, throat clearing uncomfortably when he enters the circle that has formed around the table. “Miss…” He looks down at your file and repeats your last name like he’s never read it before, earning him a cold glare from Penelope. “I am deeply sorry for what occurred. I assure you we don’t tolerate that kind of behavior here.” He adjusts his tie along with his posture, looking proud as he explains, “We’re already in the process of having Mr. Munson transferred to another facility.”

A lick of panic rockets up your spine. “No.” 3 sets of eyes lock on you, emotions ranging from curious to concerned. “You don’t have to do that.” Your fingers curl into fists where they sit on your thighs before relaxing, taking some of the tension in your body with it. “I don’t want you to transfer him.”

He seems to hesitate then, bushy eyebrows drawing together on his wrinkled forehead. “Are you positive? It’s important to us that you feel safe here.”

“I do feel safe here,” you press, looking back and forth between the three of them before settling on Penelope. “It was an accident. Eddie’s barely into his detox – barely started therapy – and I should’ve known better than to get into an argument with him.” Her face remains passive, unreadable. No insight into how she feels about what you’re saying. “It’s my fault as much as his. It wouldn’t be fair to move him, not when he’s struggling this much, this early into his treatment. I don’t want him moved.”

“That’s very kind of you, but you should be more concerned about yourself.” Dr. Lincoln takes a small step forward, adjusting the collar of your gown to take another look at the quickly forming bruises near your collarbone. “You’re not worried about something like this happening again with him, maybe even worse?”

You think back to the moment you hit the ground. Looking up at him, silhouetted by the bright afternoon sun, leaving almost all of him cast in shadow. The way he looked utterly terrified at what he’d done. How quickly he had tried to apologize when he came back to himself.

Potentially evil. Potentially good, too, I suppose. Just this huge powerful potentiality waiting to be shaped.

“No, it’s fi–” Hazel eyes narrow into a squint, stopping your sentence in its tracks. Another deep breath, in and out, and you try again. “I’m not worried. He won’t do something like this again. I want him to stay.”

A few moments of silence follows your declaration, Mr. Ford and Dr. Lincoln glancing at each other before looking to Penelope. Her calculating gaze remains on you, entirely unwavering even as the other two stare holes into the sides of her face. For the first time, you make a conscious effort to keep eye contact, to remain firm despite your desire to shy away.

The corner of her mouth lifts almost imperceptibly in response.

“Then that settles it.” She clasps her hands together in front of her stomach, looking back and forth between the men beside her with a placating smile. “Mr. Munson will stay, pending further transgressions.”

Your shoulders sag in a relief you hadn’t anticipated feeling, but you’re quick to straighten when she addresses you again. “Any other incidents, with you or any other resident, and he will be moved to another facility. Understood?”

It feels like a lifeline. Like a chance. Like an opportunity.

If you want him here, then help him stay.

“Understood.”

The next morning when you walk out for breakfast at 8:30 sharp, there’s something sitting on your table. It strikes you as odd immediately given you’re one of the first people out of your room today and there doesn’t seem to be anyone milling around. You withhold your curiosity – follow the same pattern of line, meds, line, breakfast. Stamp down the nervous feeling in your gut as you cautiously approach.

Completely dusted free of dirt and with your bookmark perfectly in place, is Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. It had completely slipped your mind that you’d even dropped it. You place down your tray with shaky hands and pick it up, flipping through the pages like you’re checking it for wounds. There’s no note, no sign, nothing that could indicate who brought it back for you.

But you know who. It scares you half to death that you know just who, that you know it with certainty.

When is the last time anything felt certain?

The question lingers, festers, and grows as you push around your food and wait for him to plop down in front of you. Imagining what stupid thing he might say, how you would brush it off with a groan and a snarky comment, how he would take that reaction with a smile and never press for more.

He never shows.

It’s with great annoyance that you find yourself looking for him all day. Sitting in your chair by the window, you glance up every half a page to see if you can catch a glimpse of his shaggy hair around the hall. You actually take a walk during your outside time instead of hiding, and you tell yourself it’s because you want the exercise and it’s finally cool enough outside to not sweat your balls off, but that doesn’t exactly account for the way your eyes search the grounds for any sign of tattooed forearms and lanky legs.

When you walk into Therapy House with the others that afternoon, Eddie is already inside. He’s in the chair beside Penelope, slumped down so far most of his ass is hanging off the edge, legs out long, and looking every bit a kicked puppy. You silently beg him to make eye contact with you as you sit, willing your stare into a physical sensation that might force him to just look at you.

He doesn’t look away from his own hands once, silent as a mouse the entire session.

The moment group is over and the counselors come around to collect their first resident of the day, you’re walking across the sunbathed birch wood floors and stopping short just behind him before you can even think about it.

“Eddie,” it comes out as a sigh, eyes pinned to the way his shoulder blades tense before your very eyes, “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“I’ve, uh… Been in here, for the most part,” he explains over his shoulder, still not turning to face you. His voice is hoarse around the edges, ragged and torn from overuse.

“Oh, okay.” Your face pinches in concern, hand raising like you want to reach out to him but hesitating there. “About… about yesterday–”

“Sorry,” he cuts you off sharply, turning halfway toward you with red-rimmed eyes still trained on the floor, “I’ve gotta go.”

He’s halfway across the room and climbing up the stairs to the lofts two at a time before you can say another word.

The image of the swollen redness around his teary eyes, half covered by his hair as he refuses to look at you for even a moment, haunts you for the rest of the week.

“So, how are you feeling today?”

Penelope is dressed in a teal silk blouse. It washes out her skin tone and the boat neckline makes her shoulders look too small. Not to mention the strange height of the cinch just below her bust, giving it the appearance of a child’s nightgown. Plainly, it looks really bad on her. All of her clothes are carefully curated and fashion forward – meant to make a statement about who she is and the authority she holds. This is absolutely not making that statement. And you were staring at it for all of group, trying to wrap your head around what it meant.

“Who gave you that shirt?”

This might be the first time she’s ever looked even half surprised at something you’ve said, her lips parting slightly as she glances down at her chest like she had forgotten what she was wearing. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she looks back at you, passive expression back in place.

“You would’ve never bought it, I’m surprised you’re allowing yourself to be seen in it,” you continue, eyes narrowing into a squint as you continue to search it and her for clues. “The fact that you’re wearing it makes me think someone gave it to you and you’re going to see them today, so you felt obligated to wear it to please them. Maybe one of your parents or a sibling or a friend… A partner?”

She uncrosses her legs just to recross in the other direction, attempting to appear amused as you explain. Gotcha.

“A partner, then. One who obviously doesn’t know you very well, or doesn’t understand fashion at all, because the color is god awful and the shape even worse. But you want to impress them enough that you’re willing to wear it anyway.”

If it was an after work date, she would’ve changed after. So it’s someone she would mostly see during her normal day. Plus, she lives and breathes her job, when would she have had time to meet someone?

“I didn’t realize you paid that much attention to what I wear… Or that you were so into fashion,” she offers casually. Too casually to play off.

A bit too sharp, a bit too pointed, you snap back. “I’m not into fashion and you’re deflecting.”

She blinks at you for a few moments before she settles back into her chair, draping her arms over her stomach. “And you’re projecting.”

“No, I’m not,” and it comes out defensive. Too defensive to play off.

So then the quiet kicks in. Queen Penelope Windsor’s beloved uncomfortable silence. Part of you is convinced one of her professors taught her that awkward silence is an invaluable tool in psychiatry. You want to know who that professor is, so you can inform them how utterly wrong they are.

Penelope is, however, utterly right.

“I’m projecting,” you concede, gaze casting down to your lap to settle into the discomfort.

Her pen clicks and it feels like salt in your wound. “Okay then. Would you like to talk about what you’re avoiding?”

And maybe you’re not quite done being snarky when you reply, “Isn’t the whole point of deflecting because you don’t want to talk about it?”

“It can be. But I still would like to give you the opportunity to. You never know, it might help you feel better.”

Your eyes roll hard enough to just see white for a moment, looking off to the stupid little white noise machine in the corner. It’s the size of a radio clock and sits directly on the floor by the door – you’ve almost tripped on it 10 times.

Probably an accessibility hazard. Someone should really complain about that. If someone less coordinated, or even Thomas with his cane, tried to walk in they could really get hurt.

“Fuck!” The exclamation comes from nowhere, probably just barely loud enough to draw attention from outside the room. Penelope remains incredibly passive despite the sudden change in your attitude, not making a move or a sound as you bury your face in your hands with your elbows propped on your thighs.

Probably just interrupted other therapy sessions. Made them lose track of what they are talking about. Maybe even triggered someone unintentionally with your sudden yell. Great job, idiot.

Digging your nails into the skin along your hairline, you take in a hissing breath through your teeth and attempt to exhale some of the tension. It’s been weaving through your muscles all week, infecting all of your time, distracting you at all hours of the day. A part of you hoped it was just another phase in recovery but it just keeps getting worse and worse.

Penelope’s voice is softer when she speaks next, more cautious. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking about right now that’s distressing you?”

“It’s the fact that I’m fucking thinking that’s distressing me.”

Realizing that probably doesn’t help at all, and most likely makes you sound insane, you release your hands to clasp tightly in your lap as you raise your head to look at her again. “I can’t stop thinking. I can’t stop noticing everything. I can’t stop.”

“Okay,” she gives a small nod of encouragement, sliding her notebook further into her lap to focus more attention on you. “What are you thinking about?”

“Everything. Your shirt and the noise machine and how someone could trip on it and hurt themselves. And how we are required to have 1 hour outside a day but half of us sit in the shade the entire time because it’s too hot or we don’t want to get sunburnt, and they aren’t exactly going to start stocking sunscreen and ointment just to facilitate 60 minutes in the sun. I’m thinking about how I finally figured out that there’s a different cook on the weekends and that’s why the stupid scrambled eggs they make us every day are oversalted Friday through Sunday and undersalted all the other days. I’m thinking about how all of the books in the library used to have an organization system but no one takes care of it – so all the books are all in the wrong places and now I feel like I have to take some of my free time to fix it because I know nobody else will, even though I can’t figure out why I fucking care so much. I’m thinking about how you asked me to help Eddie so he could stay here in recovery and I want to do that because he latched on to me when he first got here and now I suddenly feel responsible for him, even though I didn’t even like the guy at first, and now he won’t even fucking talk to me so I can’t do that.”

You inhale sharply, talking way too fast but unable to stop. “I’m thinking about how this facility is built to house 50 people or more but only gets one new resident a month, maybe two. So why is it so big? Why not bring in more people? Probably because they’re only accepting the people willing to turn out their wallets in order to get help or because they know someone who will so then all the people who really need help are left to fucking die under highways and in abandoned buildings because if they don’t have money, they don’t fucking mean anything to anyone. But for some reason I still care about that and feel bad about it and feel responsible for it even though there is literally nothing I could possibly do to change any of it.”

Another heaving breath that makes your chest feel too tight and you’re squeezing your eyes shut against the brunt of the pressure. “I can’t stop thinking about everything and I feel like it’s fucking crushing me and I just want something to turn my brain off – but that’s the entire fucking reason I’m here in the first place. I started using because I just wanted something to numb it all.”

The admission feels like a slap across the face. Like being dunked head first in ice water. The reality of where you started.

The sprawling, trembling fault line that led you here – to where the tectonic plates move and shift. Where the earthquakes, that used to feel like subtle vibration in the dirt beneath your feet, now knock you to the ground with ease. Standing on the edge of the chasm between that you’re still not ready to cross.

Because what’s on the other side?

And what if I fall through?

The next week of your life passes in a sort-of overwhelmed daze. The realization of that pit before you– what it means, what it could do. It hangs around like a spirit haunting your home. It’s always been there, you just couldn’t see it, too focused on your own feet and keeping them moving to see anything beyond the inches of ground in front of you.

Now, the inches of ground before you are darkness. Unfathomably deep and impenetrably dark. And on the other side, there’s sun. Grass. Trees.

Shouldn’t I want to get there? Shouldn’t I be excited to jump?

The questions follow you through your days on autopilot as you keep to your schedule.

On the two week anniversary of your argument with Eddie, Penelope announces that, instead of talking in a circle for group today, she’ll be pairing you off into partners to play games. Trust exercises, she assures you when you all look at each other like she’s lost her mind. It wasn’t the first time she had used her slot of time to do some kind of activity – but it hadn’t been something like this.

And really you should have seen it coming.

Because Queen Penelope, in her oh so infinite wisdom, points you and Eddie to a pair of chairs facing each other below the skylight. While Eddie shows little to no reaction as he shuffles over, you cast a pleading look at her. Hoping to get across some of the betrayal you’re feeling in your eyes.

She just smiles. Meets you with silence before shuffling around the other pairs of residents throughout the room.

When you sit down on the metal folding chair across from him, you get your first good look since the day after you’d argued. The last few times you’d seen him, he looked no better than a zombie – half awake and half asleep as he went through his days. He’d kept quiet for the most part in group, only adding in a sentence or two at times, and left his 1 on 1 session in the lofts with red rimmed eyes and looking about ready to pass out. But he’d also gotten into the habit of playing cards most days with his roommate, Howard. And while you couldn’t imagine the gruff old man of few words was very good company to keep, sometimes you could have sworn you’d look over and see them smiling.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

The both of you wordlessly adjust on the seats, warmed by the sunshine filtering through the circular window overhead. Penelope had placed the chairs close enough together that, with his long legs, you both accidentally kept knocking knees. The third time, you muttered, “Sorry,” which brought a small smile to his face.

He ends up with his knees splayed wide, hands resting on his thighs, while you bring your knees in tight together, propping your feet up on the bar beneath your chair as you settle into soft tapping of your fingertips near your knees. Beyond your apology, neither of you say a word or make any eye contact as you watch Penelope and wait for instruction.

“So, the aim of the exercise is simple,” she explains, projecting her voice slightly as her heels click along the wood, “it’s a question and answer. Going back and forth to learn more about each other, being as honest as you’re comfortable being. This is not supposed to be something that causes you intense distress. But don’t be afraid to lean into some discomfort if you feel it. You might end up discovering something valuable about yourself.”

When you glance back at Eddie, his big brown eyes are already looking at you.

A warm feeling creeps up your spine, your fingers twitching in your lap as you adjust to the unexpected attention. His expression is pensive, gentle… Soft. He doesn’t look mad, or hurt, or upset. He’s looking at you like he’s happy you’re here – sitting across from him in the subtle heat of the sun. And while you’re glad he doesn’t seem upset to be forced to speak with you, you’re more confused than anything.

In a move that surprises even yourself, you break the silence first. “Hey.”

His chest rises in a deep inhale, shoulders and arms relaxing on the long exhale before he responds. “Hey.” You offer a small, slightly awkward smile, and he mirrors it as you adjust to tuck your hands under your thighs, bringing your shoulders slightly forward. “I wanted to apologize.”

Blinking at him a few times, you manage an unsure, “Oh?”

“You were right,” he sighs, hands coming together over his abdomen to fiddle with his own fingers. “I… I needed a wakeup call. Some sense knocked into me.” The corners of his eyes pinch up in pain before he returns your eye contact again. “I’m just really, really sorry it came from hurting you.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you rush to try to assure him, pushing away the ache of the bruises that have faded from your tailbone, “I was more just shocked than anything.”

He winces, forefinger and thumb pinching some skin between his nails. “I appreciate you saying so, but you don’t have to sugarcoat it for me.” His eyes cast down to your knees before he continues, “I know what a push like that can do.”

Unsure exactly how to take that statement, mind absolutely swirling with possible solutions, you swallow dryly and offer an, “Okay.”

Tense silence falls back over you both, the murmured conversations of other residents echoing throughout the open space into a white noise of unintelligible words. You sit and you wait as Eddie rubs the pads of his thumbs together, lower lip drawing up between his teeth as he continues to stare at your knees. He looks deep in thought – eyebrows twitching together a few times before he seems to remember himself again. Adjusting to sit up straighter in his chair, one of his knees knocks against the outside of yours before he clears his throat. “What are we, uh, supposed to be doing again?”

“Asking each other questions.”

A small scoff leaves his lips in a puff of air, the corner tilting up in amusement. “Like asking what’s your favorite color and shit?”

A soft smile and a smaller shake of your head, you flex your feet to point your toes toward the floor before relaxing again. “I think it’s supposed to be more drug and rehab and therapy related shit but… She really didn’t specify.”

“Ah… A tempting loophole,” he agrees, nodding his head as if he’s really thinking about it. “But I guess we should try to do what the good therapist thinks will help us, huh?”

A wistful sigh leaves you as you roll your shoulders back to sit up straighter. “I guess so. You can start.”

“Oh, shit.” You laugh softly at the awkward face he pulls when you put him on the spot, and the sound seems to put him at ease. “Okay… Oh! I asked you a couple weeks ago what you were in for. Like what you are, were, addicted to?”

A simple enough question, you answer quickly. “Oxycodone. And Alcohol. Normally together, I guess.”

If he’s surprised by your answer, he doesn’t show it, just lets out a low whistle through the side of his mouth. “Downers and downers, huh?”

“Yup,” you confirm, pressing your lips together and offering an awkward shrug. “What about you? You’ve mentioned coke and meth before…?”

“Mostly coke, meth, and alcohol,” his head rocks slowly back and forth in a nod. “But I’ve probably done a bit of everything – ecstasy, xanax, opioids, ketamine, the works.”

“Truly a man of culture,” you attempt as a joke, and his half smile tells you that you were successful.

“You could say that. So how’d you start? Using, I mean.”

“Like, where did I get it?” He shrugs and waves for you to continue with that thought. “A friend of mine, she was already involved in… All of it. And offered to connect me.”

“A stellar friend,” is his attempt at another joke.

The statement twists in your chest painfully, the cold feeling seeping out like a wrung washcloth. A sad smile and a deep breath to try to move past it. “And you? How’d you start?”

“Are you just gonna repeat all of my questions? Feels kinda unfair.”

“I’ll come up with a new one after this. Scout’s honor.”

He snorts, cracking a smile as he shakes his head again. “I don’t think you’re allowed to use that if you’re not a boy scout, but okay.” You’re about ready to retort back that he doesn’t know that you weren’t really a boy scout, but he answers your question before you can. “I was a dealer, back in high school. After my buddy Rick got arrested, I took over the mantle. Mostly just weed to suburban kids. I had other shit but didn’t sell it often. Back then, I needed the money more than I needed to sample the merchandise so… I would only smoke weed once in a blue moon when I had the extra stock.”

“As for when I really started…” He looks back down at his hands in his lap. “Our first tour. It was hectic – fucking nuts. More than we ever thought it would be. But we were living out our dream, y’know? It was like being in a fuckin’ movie sometimes.” A small, wistful smile tilts his mouth as he recalls the memories. “We were going 24/7 between the travel and the concerts and the afterparties. At one of ‘em, someone, understandably, brought the white shit.” The knuckles in his hands momentarily turn white as he grips them together, a subtle show of tension before they relax again. “You can, uh… You probably know where it goes from there.”

“I can assume, yeah,” it comes out softer than you thought it would, affected by his vulnerability. The Eddie you met on his first day would’ve never done anything like this. Would’ve never even spoken like this. How had so much changed so quickly? How had he surpassed you?

“Okay, how about…” Like he’s trying to bring some life back into himself and you, he begins a drumming tap on his thighs, shoulders rolling forward as he applies himself to the motion. You don’t bother to try to withhold your laugh, feeling your nose crinkle with the force of it. His chin tips up towards the sun, a cheeky grin splitting to show the whites of his teeth as he starts to hum a single note out into the open space, an over dramatic representation of his thinking.

“Eddie!”

The sharp call has both of you freezing, faces dropping as you slowly turn toward where Penelope stands with her hands on her hips and a deep scowl. “A little quieter, please?”

Your lips press together tight to withhold your laugh as he offers her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

When he turns back to you, looking a little embarrassed and thoroughly scolded, you can stop the laugh from escaping you in a snort through your nose. “It’s not funny,” he mutters, lower lip jutting out in a pout as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You got in trouble with mom,” you whisper yell, leaning toward him with a teasing smile. “It’s kinda funny.”

His expression breaks – smile stretching against his will as you make fun of him. “Yeah, yeah. I bet you’ve never even gotten in trouble before. Ever. At all.”

Taking it as a challenge, a single eyebrow raises as you lean back into your chair. “Is that your question?”

Intrigue showing clearly, he nods, hair shifting from behind him over his shoulders as he does so. “Sure, that feels close enough to the topic. Have you ever gotten in trouble before?”

Tapping the tip of your finger against your chin, you make a small show of trying to think about it even though you already know what you’re going to say. “Three times come to mind.”

“Three?!” He gasps, hand flying to his chest in mock drama. “Say it ain’t so.”

“First, I convinced my grandfather to buy this huge box of ice creams for dogs. He thought it was for us so, when he walked into the kitchen, and I was holding it down for my dog to lick, he immediately started to yell at me. When I told him that’s what it was meant for, I swear to god – I thought he was going to pop a fucking blood vessel he was so mad.”

Eddie snorts as he shakes his head back and forth slowly. “That would be the kind of thing you’d consider getting in trouble.”

“Hey!” You point an accusing finger at him, falling into this comfortable dynamic between the two of you. “I’m not done yet!” Putting his hands up in surrender, he mimes pulling a zipper across his mouth as he settles down to look at you again. “The second… Well, I got called to the principal's office in high school. Because,” you take a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable reaction you’ll get, “because some kids were spreading a rumor that I was sleeping with a teacher.”

This finally seems to entertain him, jaw dropping slightly as his eyes widen. “Well, did you?!”

“No!” You’re quick to deny, voice rising slightly in pitch as you do. His chin dips down, looking up through his eyelashes at you, extremely unconvinced. “I mean, I probably could have, but I didn’t want to!”

His head rocks back as another low whistle presses out of the corner of his mouth. “Wow, sunshine… Now that’s some juicy gossip. Have you mentioned that one to Melissa?”

Your foot kicks out, knocking into his shin hard enough for him to sit up straighter in surprise. “Shut it, Munson.”

“Okay, okay! Sorr-ee, geeze.” And yet he’s nothing but smiles as he returns to making eye contact with you. “And third?”

“Third was definitely drug related.” You’re quick to amend, tucking your hands back under your thighs. “I was picking up some oxy after completely running out. Desperate enough that I went to his apartment while the sun was up – which I always tried not to do.” His head dips in acknowledgment, showing he’s actively listening as you continue. “It must have been my lucky day because the bag was barely in my hand before the door slams open, police screaming his name and boots stomping inside.” Adrenaline kicking up slightly at the memory, you can vividly picture the way your skinhead dealer went deathly pale in mere seconds at the noise. “It was a good thing that I wasn’t on anything that day because before I knew it, I was out the window, down the fire escape, across the alley, and over a fence. I didn’t stop running until I ducked into a Walmart – hiding in the crowd.”

“Damn.” He sighs, looking impressed but attempting to sound disappointed. “There’s a bit of a rebel in you after all.”

And while you’re not exactly sure if it’s something to be proud of, you’re at least happy to earn his approval as you raise your chin slightly. “See? More to me than meets the eye.”

The moment between you stretches out a bit too long as he seems to appraise you, a soft smile made warmer by sparkling eyes. It takes some conscious effort not to react to his study – heart thumping hard in your chest a few times before he agrees. “Pretty metal, I’ll give you that.”

Exhaling some of the tension in your shoulders, relaxing more into your chair, you’re quick to try to move on from talking about you. “You said you were dealing because you needed the money. Were you saving up to move out or something?”

His expression shifts, smile turning awkward as he brings a hand up to hook behind his neck, bent arm laying beside his chest. “Not exactly.” Giving him your full attention and what you hope is an encouraging smile, he takes a deep breath before he begins. “I moved in with my uncle when I was a kid. My dad’s brother Wayne. My parents weren’t…” His mouth presses into a thin line as he tries to think of how to phrase it. “My dad ended up in jail and my mom didn’t have it in her to be a single mom. Hadn’t worked in a long time, didn’t have the money, all that. So she dropped me off with my uncle with a promise to try to get her life together and come back.”

The implication there is heavy enough, sorrow settling into your gut like a brick, but he still adds, “That, uh… That never happened. So it was just me and Wayne and his one bedroom trailer in a small town in Indiana.” His arm drops from his neck, hands coming together in his lap so he can fidget with his own fingers again. “He did the best he could for a guy who never expected to have a kid – more than I could ever ask for. Gave me his room, worked night shifts at the power plant to bring in cash, made sure the pantry was never empty. But it was more than that, y’know? He is… He taught me how to change the oil of my car, how to fix the little AC unit in my window, how to tie a tie.”

His lips part in a smile, his eyes far off as he tells you, “we used to play cards a lot. I swear, no one has a better poker face than Wayne. You wouldn’t guess it from the looks of him, but he used to make a killing in Texas Hold ‘em back before I came into the picture.” His face drops slightly at that, eyebrows tipping up in an emotion that he’s quick to shake off. “But he has a tell – I learned when I was 13. When he’s bluffing, he’ll do a little sniff as he’s leaning back from raising. It’s really hard to tell but it’s there.” His excitement grows again, fidgeting in his hands ceasing. “He had this crazy collection of hats and mugs, and the one time I accidentally knocked one off the shelf and it broke – man,” he exhales, shaking his head. “I thought he was gonna cry. Never that he was gonna scream or yell or try to hit me or send me away. He would just get so sad, like he was about to start tearing up, and I’d always fold – scrambling to apologize and asking what I could do to make it better.”

Brown eyes flick back up to yours, quickly followed by a dusting of pink across his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears. As if realizing he was getting off track, he clears his throat and says, “Anyway. It was always a struggle for him to get by, having to feed a boy with the appetite of a fucking rhino and everything else on top of that. So, when I got old enough, I started looking for anything I could do to bring some cash in. To try to… I mean, I could never repay him but like, to at least try to help, y’know?” You nod, not sure if he was actually looking for confirmation but he seems to appreciate the gesture regardless. “So I was doing odd jobs and started getting involved with stuff and eventually became an errand boy to Reefer Rick. Who I took over for when he got put away.”

Sensing a pause in his story, or at least what you perceive as one, you can’t withhold your curiosity as you press for more answers. “Is Wayne still alive? Like are you two still close?”

His face falls, that heavy feeling in your gut following closely after. “He’s alive, at least, as far as I know.” His attention is off in nowhere again as he visibly shrinks back as far as he can into the metal chair. “I went back to see him a year or so ago. I wasn’t doing so hot – couldn’t seem to even get out of bed without a line. He caught on pretty quick what was going on. Got more mad than I’d ever seen him.” He swallows harshly, attempting to get rid of the lump he feels growing there. “We both said some nasty shit – how he wasn’t really my dad and didn’t know what he was talking about. And he said I was turning into my dad, that I’d never looked more like him than I did that day. I stormed out. And we haven’t talked since.”

Your heart bleeds for the defeat you can see in his expression, the pain in the way he explains. How heavy it must be for him to carry that. While your first instinct is to offer apologies and words of comfort that really won’t matter much in the end, you settle for looking to the future. “Are you gonna reach out to him again? When you get clean?”

“I…” He looks confused then, hand coming up to rub at his forehead roughly before he settles. “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Taking a deep breath of your own, you muster up some courage. “It’s not my place, at all, so feel free to tell me to fuck right off but… I feel like you should. I think he’d be happy for you.”

The sentiment rocks him – face twisting in a mix of emotions before he brings up both hands like he’s going to rub them off of his face. “Yeah, yeah, maybe.”

Silence falls, heavier like it was before. The momentary comradery falling away to reality again – two strangers trying to figure out what the hell they were doing. The tension in the air is palpable, at least to you, as he continues to stare off for another minute or two because coming back into himself.

“So…” He clears his throat, anxiously adjusting in his seat and knocking against your knee again. “What made you decide to get help?”

The million dollar question.

Another thing you feel like you should’ve seen coming, should’ve prepared for in advance. But here you are: sitting across from a stranger you feel inexplicably tied to and faced with a question you still don’t know the answer to. The question that has hung over your head for the past week and half.

Why are you trying to get better?

“Well, ending up here – like, in rehab – was easier than the alternative. So that part wasn’t hard.” The skin between his eyebrows folds as he looks at you, a bit confused but not interrupting to ask for clarification as you continue. “As for why I’m getting help…”

The rest hangs there, suspended by hesitation. Uncertainty blooms in your chest like a burst of frozen air – like blue tipped fingers gripping your heart in their fist. A threat and a warning.

Eddie hits the toe of his shoe against yours, bringing your attention back to him. “You don’t have to answer. Not if… You don’t have to.”

And the sun is shining down on him from the skylight above, casting him in a glow. A soft auburn hue shines in his wiry hair, the red undertones coming forward in the sun. He’s still pale but you can see them now – freckles across his face and the skin just beyond the collar of his shirt like a dusting of cinnamon. Brown eyes that have a bit more life in them than they did before.

There’s still a sense of frost beneath his skin, half alive and freezing like it used to be, but it’s thawing. Warming. Before your eyes and beneath the light of day, Eddie Munson was coming out of his cold shadows, one small step at a time.

“But you can't just leave it at that!" said Anathema, pushing forward. "Think of all things you could do! Good things." "Like what?"

“I guess I’m still trying to figure it out.” Out comes the honest truth. Truth he wasn’t expecting based on the way his eyebrows raise, skin wrinkling beneath his bangs. “It feels like there should be this big reason – some grand goal or something that would be a good answer in a biography. And I don’t really have one of those. Not right now.”

There’s a long pause then, like he wants to make sure you’re not going to say anything else before he replies. “I don’t think it has to be something fantastical or anything like that. Maybe it would be a better story if it was but… I dunno, I think any reason is as good as any other.”

A self-deprecating smile and joking change of tone, you ask him, “Even if my reason is just because I want to make more bad jokes that people can’t decide if they want to laugh or groan at?”

His answering smile is filled with genuine determination when he tells you, “I think that’s a fucking stellar reason, sunshine.”

Your 60th day of rehab comes with a party.

Not for you, of course. It would be a lot of resources for the center to celebrate arbitrary anniversaries like that for every resident. No, this is a graduation party. A going away party. A ‘see you never’ kind of party.

When you walk back into the main hall after group, there’s a hastily made banner hung between the nurse’s station and the kitchen that says ‘Happy Graduation Tony!’ in shades of blue and yellow, with some splashes of green mixed in. There’s a weird animal drawn on the right side that you can’t identify – but you guess it’s supposed to be a wolverine based on the ‘Go Michigan Wolverines!’ underneath in blocky text.

There are various basketball-themed party decorations scattered throughout the tables, all looking like they came from a big wholesale package of party favors. It looks alarmingly like an 8 year old’s birthday party, but Tony’s smile is brighter than you’ve ever seen it as he laughs at the attempt Kathy, Melissa, and Thomas made at decorating for him.

The University of Michigan Wolverines is his favorite college basketball team, he explains to the rest of you as you look on confused. He gives Thomas a joyful ribbing at having remembered a comment like that in passing, and Thomas’ bashful smile makes even Howard soften with fondness as you all filter in among the tables. There’s music playing – a Best of 80’s CD spinning in a shitty old speaker system in the corner of the main hall that is barely used. Down Under by Men at Work plays softly as you settle down at one of the tables covered in plastic-y yellow, feeling lighter than you have in weeks watching Tony cross the room to where there’s a small selection of snacks and a sheet cake with his name written on it.

Eddie sits down beside you at the same time Howard sits down across from him, the older man immediately brandishing his deck of cards and arcing them into a professional shuffle. Lola, the newest resident, an older woman who kept taking morphine long after her hip surgery healed, sits down uneasily next to Howard, content to quietly watch him deal out the cards between himself and Eddie.

Switching back and forth between watching Eddie and Howard playing a game you can’t seem to identify and watching Melissa and Kathy grill Tony about what he’s going to do first when he gets out, you feel a sort of contentment. An emotion you’re so unused to, you’re not really sure what to do with it now that it’s sitting in front of you.

Two games in, Eddie drops his cards with a groan before pointing an accusing finger at Howard, who smirks in pride. “This isn’t over, Finbar.” And while your eyebrows draw together in confusion, lips parting in preparation to ask, Eddie keeps going before you can. “I’m going to go grab a water and some cookies, anyone want me to get anything while I’m up?”

Howard waves him off without a word, huffing as he has to lift up slightly off his chair to pull in the cards Eddie left on the other side of the table so he can shuffle the deck together again. Lola, in her syrupy, southern drawl, asks for a cup of water, if he doesn’t mind. A short nod and then he looks down from where he stands beside your seat, a gentle smile on his face as his eyebrows raise in expectancy. The words get caught in your throat for a moment before you are able to force them out. “A cup of water and some chocolate chip cookies would be great. Thank you.”

Another cheeky smile and a dip of his head and he’s walking off, lanky legs knocking against a chair or two like he’s a newborn calf who hasn’t learned how to walk steady yet. The sight makes you laugh under your breath, shaking your head as you turn back to the table.

Lola is watching you, eyes slightly narrowed, when you turn back, making you jolt backwards in surprise. “Y’all make a cute couple,” she says sweetly, with a smile just a kind as always.

“Couple?” You question in a slightly higher pitch, feeling the blood rushing north to warm your face and make your brain spin. “We’re – we’re not a couple. Just friends. We just met here, only a few weeks ago.”

“No?” Her head tilts in curiosity, but her expression reads like she knows something you don’t. Can see something you can’t. “That’s a shame. Looks like a match made in Heaven to me.”

Your jaw drops, mouth opening and closing uselessly, as you try to think of something you could possibly say to that when Eddie walks back up, shakily balancing three plastic cups of water between his hands and a packet of napkin wrapped something tucked under his chin. The waters are safely set on the table, one passed to Lola, who replies “thank you, sugar,” before he lifts his head, the packet falling directly into his now-free hands. Dropping into his chair, he sets the packet on the table before unfolding the white napkins to reveal several slightly smushed cookies.

“Oh,” he blinks a few times at them before offering you a sheepish smile. “Guess they didn’t quite survive the journey. Hope you don’t mind picking at crumbs?”

You shake your head, mischief infusing your smile as you tell him, “I don’t mind, I’ve always thought it would be kind of cool to be a pigeon.”

He snorts in amusement at the same time Howard rolls his eyes and Lola uses her hand to cover her smile. The mix of reactions is perfect – exactly what you were hoping for – as you pinch a big chunk of cookie between your fingers and pop it into your mouth while Howard deals out another hand of cards.

Your contentment continues through the next hour or two, watching as Eddie and Howard go back and forth between winning hands while songs play on – Come On, Eileen, followed by Pretty in Pink, and Africa.

When Melissa shrilly announces it’s time to cut the cake, everyone turns toward the front of the room while Billie Jean by Michael Jackson weaves its way into the open air. Tony laughs at himself and how his hands shake in nervousness, making jokes about how he feels like he’s at a wedding, as he cuts into the sheet cake directly through his name. Using the plastic serving utensil, he deposits a huge square on his paper plate, the ‘o’ from his name completely removed as everyone cheers and claps.

Looking incredibly embarrassed, he turns and gives a little bow to the crowd, missing Kathy as she reaches over the table to grab the huge slice. A sing-song call of his name, and you all watch as he turns and is met with the slice of cake to the face, white frosting smearing across his skin before the entire plate hits the floor with a dull slap. No one moves for a few moments, quiet enough you could hear a pin drop, until he starts to laugh. Almost the entire room joins in, cackling as he scoops frosting away from his eyes and shakes it out onto the floor.

Everyone who wants a slice of cake moves through to grab one before settling back down at the tables. And when you look over at Tony, glowing as he has an animated conversation with Melissa, you can see a small smearing of frosting across his cheek that no one seems willing to tell him is still there.

You all say goodbye to him that evening before the sun sets, watching as he departs out of the double doors with a bag slung over his shoulder and is immediately met by a young boy – a Michigan Wolverines jersey on his back as he tackles Tony around the waist in a tight hug. The doors click closed just as Tony’s hand meets the boy’s head in a rub, both sporting the exact same bright smile.

Despite being back on good terms, Eddie continues to sit across the room from you during group therapy sessions. You kind of like it better than way, not that you’d ever admit it to him. Sometimes you find yourself looking over for reactions to things people say and it makes it easier to give him your full attention when he adds to the conversation. Being able to sneak glances without it being too obvious makes you feel a bit more comfortable than before.

And although you feel like you’ve been making progress, you still rarely join in the conversation in these group circle sessions, and you never talk about yourself in them. Penelope has never tried to push you – she is satisfied as long as you continue to make progress in 1 on 1 sessions. Talking in a group setting isn’t for everyone, she explained, but it can sometimes be more beneficial than you think it might be.

It just never struck you as something you wanted to do. It never spoke to you, as some people said. Besides, other people always had plenty they wanted to say after Penelope did a bit of prodding.

“I talked to my husband on the phone the other day,” Kathy admits following a small silence. She’s playing with the drawstrings on her sweatpants as she speaks. “We haven’t talked in a couple weeks – the kids have been staying with my mom while I’m here.”

Penelope shifts in her chair to face her more directly. “How did that go?”

“Bad,” she answers with a sigh, eyes falling closed for a second before she forces them back open. “I guess I was just hoping he misses me… Misses the kids, misses our life. But he actually seems like he’s happier now.”

“That must’ve hurt to think about.”

“It did. It does.” She takes a deep breath, eyebrows turning up in what looks like an attempt not to cry. “It’s hard to think that picturing going back home to be with him and Sarah and Ben is what really gets me through all this but he… It doesn’t seem like that’s what he pictures anymore.”

“No offense, Kathy, but he sounds like a dickhead.”

Her and Penelope both turn on Eddie, looking surprised and annoyed in that order. “Eddie, that’s not very nice.”

“No, it’s not,” he concedes, hands coming into play as he tucks his elbows into either side of his waist, “but neither is the way he treats you. I mean, the whole reason you ended up here is because he refused to help you – with anything! Ever! And left you to take care of him and the kids and the house and everything.”

Kathy’s face twists, looking conflicted. “Well, yes, but–”

“But he works to put food in the fridge. That’s what you’re gonna say, right?” Her mouth presses into a tight line before giving him a sharp nod. “And yeah, that’s important. Having money to survive is essential and all that. But so is taking care of yourself. And your kids. Taking care of your house. Those are all things people should try to do the best they can. Sure, a lot of people fall short sometimes. It can really suck trying to get everything done by yourself. But that’s what your partner is supposed to be for. To help you.”

Everyone watches on silently as Eddie continues, looking entirely impassioned in his defense of her. “Yeah, he works a job. But you work three jobs just trying to take care of yourself, him, and both your kids. It’s not fair. And it’s fucked up that he not only doesn’t do shit to help but also doesn’t appreciate how much fucking work it is for you and the fact that it was killing you.”

“I mean, that’s just how marriage works,” she tries to argue. “Men go to work and women take care of the house and the kids. I’m sure that’s how your parents did it.”

“No,” he answers with a humorless chuckle, “not even close.”

“Then what did they do?”

“My dad beat my mom.”

The room falls into a tense hush, all eyes on him. While a part of him still looks worked up from his debate with Kathy, and another looks angry at even admitting the fact, the rest of him looks like an exposed nerve. His shoulders shake slightly as he takes in a breath and lets it out just as slow. “He wasn’t… He wasn’t a good guy, my dad. Kind of a piece of shit actually. In and out of prison on assault, drug charges, petty theft, the works. And whenever he was out, he was coked out of his mind and making my mom’s life a living hell.”

Brown eyes descend to the floor as his voice wavers, clearing his throat to try to fix it. “I remember one time, I was 6? Maybe 7? My mom was trying to convince me to do my homework at the kitchen table. And in storms dear old dad, fresh snow on his nose, and already screaming.” His eyes close, hands clenching with white knuckles. “Mom always made sure to get in between us. She didn’t want him to hurt me. But I guess he was mad at me for something, and her getting in the way was even worse, because before I knew it she was on the floor.”

Teary eyes open, glancing up and meeting your gaze. Eyes entirely focused on you as a few tears escape with his blinks. “I can see it so clearly, y’know? My mom was on the floor, bruises around her eyes, begging him to stop. And my dad was standing over her with his fists clenched like he was ready to go another round.”

I know what a push like that can do.

Your mouth opens wordlessly when you realize – chest twisting in agony as he offers you a sad and knowing smile.

“Anyway, that’s why I’m here. Because I don’t wanna end up like my dad.”

A feeling in the base of your stomach catches hot and burns. Ashes smolder and leak smoke up your esophagus until it brings tears to your eyes. Beneath the dull roar of your blood in your ears and the murmured ‘Thank you for sharing’ from Penelope, you can hear the tremble of the earth beneath your feet. A vibration that rumbles up through your bones in a cold shiver that breaks out across your back. Stones fall into the chasm before you as the world shakes and bends with the force of the quake.

You stare into the cold darkness of the space between the tectonic plates and the cold darkness stares back.

“I have something I want to talk about.”

All eyes turn to you, a pair of wide brown iris the most important of all. Penelope is nothing but encouraging as she says, “By all means, what would you like to say?”

A deep breath in, an attempt to clear the smoke in your lungs, you force the words out into the open. “I… I want to talk about how I got here.” You pause, eyes leaving Eddie to glance over at Penelope to register her shock. “Why I’m here. Because I’ve never told anyone.”

“Okay,” is her simple reply, an attempt to be encouraging. But you’re already faltering, the cold creeping in and dampening the ashes until you return to making eye contact with Eddie. And while his expression shows very little, attention wholly focused on you, he does dip his head in a slight nod.

Go ahead, the movement says. You can do this.

“Two days before I got here, I was with my friend Luna.” The name feels like ice water down your throat, swallowing hard to try to push past it and keep going. “Luna was the one who got me into taking oxy in the first place. I’d told her I was too wound up all the time and couldn’t relax, too caught up in my head. She told me it would help. We’d been friends for a long time by that point. She… She’s my best friend. She saw me at my worst and didn’t blink an eye. And maybe it was a fucked up way of helping, but she was really just trying to help. Suggesting what she thought would help.”

“That day, she called me all excited. Saying she got some pills from a new guy and she couldn’t wait to try them. So I went over to her place like we always did. She was all excited about the new stuff, but in my head, it was just the same shit, so I told her I was going to take from the old stash of pills. I guess I didn’t want to waste them or something. She just kinda said whatever, your loss, didn’t fight me on it.”

The visuals start to press in now, like a slideshow playing behind your eyes. “I remember waking up in her bed. It was dark. I don’t know how long I was out for. I got up,” your feet hit pink shag carpet, “I called her name,” you look around the girly bedroom, barely lit by the lamp on the bedside table. “I was still pretty out of it. I walked out from around the bed and…”

Your eyes squeeze shut, head shaking to try to clear the images like an etch-a-sketch. It doesn’t work.

“She was on the floor. I thought maybe she was just in it but her – her lips a–and her fingers were blue and she wasn’t breathing. I called 911 but… She was already cold when they told me to check for a pulse.”

“Those new pills she was so excited to take were laced. Fentanyl. She overdosed. And… And maybe if I had been awake, y’know?” When you blink back into the room, there are tears pouring from your eyes, your breath coming in hiccuping gasps. Cutting yourself off from any more what if’s, you rub your forearm under your nose as you sniffle. “Anyway, I got picked up when the ambulance came. I don’t really know why they gave me the option but it was basically rehab or jail so it felt kind of like a no brainer.”

You huff a wet laugh, crossing your arms over your stomach as you try to fight back the sobs, breathing through the freezing cold feeling in your chest. “It’s easier to be here. Then to think about leaving,” you admit softly, eyes trained on Eddie’s shoes. “In here, I don’t have to see her stuff around my place. I don’t have to think about who I’m going to spend my Saturday’s with. I don’t… In here, I don’t have to face the fact that she’s gone.”

When your eyes meet his, they’re watery again. Red rimmed, swollen. His hands open and close on his thighs like he’s holding himself back. Pale, pink-toned fingers, cast in warm, gentle light from the sun above, that look like they want nothing more than to reach out to you.

Blue tipped fingers reach out from the cold below, a threat and a warning of what lies before you if you fail. But on the other side – the sun shines. There’s grass and cherry blossom trees and birds singing and music playing and life.

“She’s dead. And I can’t get her back. But I’m still here, and I still have a future. I… I want there to be a future.”

You jump the gap.

Bright green grass folds beneath your sneakers as you cross the field, hand raised along your brow to search for a familiar face. It’s the first Saturday of July and there are people everywhere – blankets and lawn chairs and folding tables set up across the wide open greenery ringed with trees.

A familiar whistle echoes toward you, giving you a vague direction to continue your trek. Sweat collects at the base of your neck and trickles down your spine as you go, the heat of the summer sun bearing down despite your careful choice in clothing. You’re just about desperate for a drink when a familiar flop of brown hair catches your eye.

“Steve?” You call, hoping to confirm before you walk all the way over. His head swivels in a full circle before his eyes catch you, a grin stretching across his face as he waves you over.

Steve is a relatively new friend, you’ve only hung out with him a handful of times since you were introduced. He’s shirtless, cotton discarded after sweating through it, and a pair of shorts that show off an alarming large amount of his tan skin. He’s tucked under a large umbrella with Robin, another new friend. She’s draped over a beach chair with her head rolled back, an unbuttoned shirt hanging off her shoulders over a bikini top and a pair of oversized shorts. The closer you get to their blanket in the grass, the more clearly her complaining becomes.

“It’s so fucking hot,” she moans, arms flopped down beyond the sides of the chair. “Why did I agree to this?”

“The music is going to start soon, so shut it, Buckley.” He turns toward you, head tilting back as he braces his arms on his knees. “Hey, good to see you.”

“You too,” you set your things on one edge of the picnic blanket, dropping to your knees at the boundary of where the umbrella covers. “And good to see you too Rob, even though it looks like you’re actually melting.” She groans loudly, sliding further down in her chair as you laugh. “Speaking of melting, cooler?”

Steve heaves it over his lap toward you and opens the lid, twisting back toward another bag as you dig through the melting ice and drinks. Drink in hand and an ice cube in the other, you use your elbow to close the lid again before pressing the ice cube to the nape of your neck in an attempt to get some relief from the heat.

Just as your mouth opens to ask, you hear an, “Incoming!” ring out right before a heavy object makes impact with your side, knocking you into the cooler with a yelp. The furry projectile pants wildly as it rights itself from its sprawl across the blanket, paws immediately climbing up onto your thighs in a happy greeting.

“Hey Oz,” you laugh, chin receding into your neck as you try to dodge his eager licks toward your mouth. “Are you having a good day, buddy?”

“He better be after the fucking pain in my ass he’s been all morning.”

Both hands scratching at the dog’s ears, both to calm him and keep him away from your face, you tilt your head back to catch sight of warm brown eyes. Eddie’s hair is pulled up into a messy bun on the back of his head, the wisps by his ears and parts of his bangs slicked down with sweat. He’s in a tank top that looks like a modified graphic tee, arm holes cut absurdly low to show off almost the entirety of his tattooed ribs. As he settles onto the blanket beside you, the light wash ripped cut off shorts he’s wearing stretch further to show more of his thighs.

His arm loops around your back, hand pressing into your ear as he directs your head lower so he can press a happy kiss to your temple. “Hey sunshine. Have any trouble finding us?”

The heat suddenly feels more like it’s diffusing from the inside out as your smile grows. You shake your head as you sit up straight again, Eddie’s arm still propped behind your back. “Nah, I’m pretty sure I could hear your stupid dog whistle from space.”

“Hey!” He cries in mock offense, leaning away from you as he yanks on the purple plastic whistle around his neck. “The training is going really well with it, actually! So shove it.” And he ducks down toward the pup sitting in front of you, coming to eye level as he says, “Isn’t that right, Ozzy?” The dog lunges forward in an attempt to lick his face but Eddie’s expecting it, blocking the attack and using a gentle force to push the dog down onto his side. “Ozzy, Ozzy, Ozzy!” He chants as he rapidly rubs the pup’s stomach, both of them shaking with excitement.

“Munson, you’re gonna work him up again and the fuckin’ music is about to start!”

Eddie sighs in disappointment, slowing his scratches and rubs considerably, running his hands along fur in an attempt to calm the dog. “I know, buddy. Your mom is so lame and doesn’t know how to have fun.”

Steve levels another glare at him, leaning back on one arm as he complains, “I’m not his mom. We’re both dads, dude.”

“Don’t listen to him, Ozzy. That man is your mom and you know it.”

The dog doesn’t care either way but does settle, laying out long with his belly in the sun just as some speaker feedback echoes out into the space around you.

“Finally!” Robin sighs in relief, pulling her sunglasses down her nose as she lifts her head. “I was starting to think we were roasting out here for nothing. Might as well be in Hell for how hot it is outside.”

Steve snorts, cracking open a gatorade as he explains, “Pretty sure Hell would be way hotter than this.”

“How do you know, dingus? Have you been?”

And the two start to bicker, something you’ve come to learn is a pretty common occurrence. Tuning out of their platonic marital dispute, you look back toward your boyfriend only to find him already looking at you.

“If Hell is this hot, I never wanna go,” you joke, vaguely aware of the sweat that continues to collect on your skin and how much you dislike the feeling.

“I dunno babe,” Eddie sighs long and loud, head tilting your direction as he looks up at you through his eyelashes, smile tilting in mischief. “It is said that the Devil has all the best tunes.”

The cherry blossoms in your chest unfurl in the heat of the sun, petals stretching out at the same rate as the smile parting to show the whites of your teeth. A soft laugh of disbelief, a grin that matches your own, and you’re quoting Good Omens back at him by saying, “It’s true. But Heaven has the best choreographers.”

And he laughs. Head thrown back, the sun’s rays grace the planes of his face as he barks out laughter into the blue sky above. Robin and Steve look at each other confused before shrugging slightly and then you’re laughing too. Falling backwards onto the blanket beneath you, you roll with it, shoulder knocking against Eddie’s when he falls backwards too.

Warm with the heat of the day, the music pouring out across the field, and the hope of a day just as bright tomorrow – you and Eddie laugh like it’s the best joke you’ve ever heard. Like there would never be a better joke than this.

If you want to imagine the future: imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends. ― Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch

thank you so much for reading. the response to this story was more than i thought it would be and i hope you're satisfied with the ending. i'm grateful you chose to come on this journey with me. i hope you find your way to greener grass and gentle sun whenever you're ready to find it <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myos ideas #myo4munson

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tonberry-yoda · 2 years

Text

Forgetful - Blitzo

Pairing - Blitzo x gn!reader

Warnings - Blitzo being the pervy lil guy he is :)

Word Count - 1,135

Notes - okay, i know i haven't posted my writing in a while with it not being a request and tbh this is kinda awesome, it makes me feel kinda refreshed ngl. i am getting to my requests, but i have been busy as hecc. anyway, love you all! hope you have a great day/night and stay hydrated my loves!!! <333 (omg this fella is so cute)

“Good morning Loona! Good morning Moxxie and Millie! Good morning… sir.” You walked in and handed everyone their lunch, giving Blitzo a cold side eye as you handed him his lunch.

“Good morning! Good to see you too, sugar!”

“Mmm…. hm…” You kept looking at him with a sideways glance as you left the room, closing the door slowly.

“Wonder what their problem is.” Blitzo’s words were muffled from the sandwich stuffed in his mouth and everyone turned to stare at him at once.

“Your… joking… right?” Moxxie’s eye twitched looking at his boss.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, what are you going on about, Moxxie?”

“No disrespect, but is your memory that bad, sir?”

Blitzo turned to Moxxie, completely offended. “What?!”

Moxxie pinched the bridge of his nose while Millie rubbed his back, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. “Sir… yesterday you-”

“Is this about me pinching their butt when they went to leave?!” Blitzo stood up, slamming his hands on the table. “Because that’s bull! They were the one who walked in here with their cute little booty out!”

“Sir! That doesn't mean you have the right to pinch their… uh… YOU KNOW!”

“God, you’re all so sensitive,” Blitzo pinched the bridge of his nose and turned towards the white board, which had nothing of importance on it. “Can we get back to work now? I have a business to run.”

“Blitzo,” you stuck your head in the room, holding a phone away from your ear. “There’s a phone call for you.”

“Who is it? We’re a little busy right now.” He put the finishing touches on a pony he began drawing on the whiteboard.

“It’s Stolas.”

Blitzo nearly choked on a piece of his sandwich and turned to you. “Tell him I'm busy. Like super busy. What does he want?”

“It's about the book.”

“Just… tell him I'll call him back, okay? I… don't want to talk to him right now.” Blitzo’s face turned bright red and he set down the marker, turning to everyone else for at least some support.

“I'll just tell him that you’re in an important meeting that will last all day.” You turned away, closing the door behind you. “Sorry Stolas, Blitzo’s super busy right now. Expect a phone call either after hours or tomorrow morning, alright? Okay. Have a great day. Yeah, you too. Buh-bye.”

Blitzo knew he was blushing, but of course he wouldn't admit that. He had that intern to thank for everything.

“Hey.” Blitzo stuck his head out of the door and threw a chocolate bar straight at you.

You caught the candy and looked down at your hands, tilting your head. “What’s this for?”

“Helping me. And let me treat you to lunch, okay?”

“Uh… okay?”

“Oh, don't sound all skeptical. I'm serious. You’re the best!” He slammed the door behind him, not caring about his blushing face.

You stood there in shock with the candy bar still in your hand. Maybe that stupid boss did have some etiquette.

---

“So, are we gonna forget about yesterday?” You slid your hand into Blitzo’s as you walked to go get some lunch.

“What, about me pinching your ass?”

“What? No. You do that all the time.”

“Then… uh… what?” You squeezed his hand and he couldn't help but feel his face go warm.

“It’s really nothing. I'm not that pissed about it or anything… it uh… it was our one year… yesterday. AGAIN, NOT A BIG DEAL… I just… got a little butthurt. But nothing too insane. I'm not mad and I don't want to seem like that type of-”

“Shit! Are you serious?!”

“Y-Yes.”

“Dammit! I thought our one year was today! That’s why I'm taking you out to get some nice lunch. Dammit!”

You giggled and cupped his face. “You don't have to play around, Blitzo. I don't care that you forgot about it. Again, it's not a big de-”

Blitzo pulled out his pocket calendar, shoving it in your face. You saw today’s date with a heart around it saying, ‘one year anniversary with my love <3’. You giggled and pulled out your own pocket calendar and Blitzo found the day before’s date with a big heart around it saying, ‘one year with my Blitzy-poo <3’.

“Well,” Blitzo grabbed your hand and continued walking. “It's either one of us fucked up or we’re both way off.”

You giggled and held him close, giving him little kisses on his cheeks and his neck. “Let’s just have a two day anniversary. I think it would be way more fun than just one boring day.”

Blitzo giggled, melting to your touch. “Y-Yeah. We should.” He couldn't help his heart shaped eyes around you.

“Well, since today’s technically our anniversary now, Blitzo, I got you something.”

“You got me something? Y-You didn't have to get me anyth-”

You pulled a small present out of your bag and handed it to him, his shiny eyes getting dilated.

“You got me wrapping paper?” He sounded like an excited child.

“No dummy,” you giggled. “Open the wrapping paper.”

“I'm not that dumb! I'm just excited that I get to rip open some wrapping paper. I haven't done this in ages.” Blitzo quickly ripped open his present and pulled out a little business card and a photo of a billboard.

“Uh… what’s this?”

You smiled a stupid giddy smile and bobbed on your heels. “What do you think it is?”

Blitzo shrugged and grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “No secrets! Tell me! I wanna know!”

“Okay, okay! Stop shaking me, bub!” Blitzo stopped shaking you and looked you dead in the eyes.

“Tell me.”

“I got us business cards, that’s what that is… and uh… I got us a billboard downtown… so more people can see it. You wanted more ads for our company, so I worked really hard these past couple of months and mmf-”

Blitzo quickly pulled you forward, slamming his lips against yours. He ran his fingers over your hips and dipped you down, pressing harder against you. You sighed into the kiss, getting more comfortable and he pulled away with a bright smile. “I can't believe you.”

“You can't believe me?”

“Nope.”

“Do you like it?”

Blitzo teared up, even though he told himself he wouldn't. “I… I love it.” He pressed his forehead to yours and placed a little kiss on your lips. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Yeah.”

He giggled and pulled you up, grabbing your hand. “I knew you were gonna say that.”

You threw your arms around the back of his neck and played with the collar of his shirt. “I love you Blitzo.”

“Oh, god, why did you have to say it with the o.”

You chuckled and pulled him down the street to go grab some lunch.

#blitzo #blitzo x reader #helluva boss blitzo #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #i know i didnt put the fancy o i wrote this on my computer and was too lazy to make it fancy lmao #helluva #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #<3 #have an awesome day!!! <333

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dialovers-translations · 9 months

Text

Diabolik Lovers CHAOS LINEAGE ー Subaru [04]

ー The scene starts in the hallway of the Violet Manor

Subaru: We’re here. Get in.

Yui: Eh? But...Subaru-kun, this is...

Subaru: No buts, just go. God. Don’t take forever.

Yui: O-Okay. I understand...

ー Yui enters the kitchen

Yui: ( I wonder why he took me here? )

Kou: Ahー There she is. Welcome!

Laito: Oh? You actually brought her here.

Azusa: We’ve been waiting for you...I’m glad to see you here...

Yui: What brings you all here?

Kou: What do you mean? Do people do other things in a kitchen besides cook?

Azusa: We’re getting everything ready for a welcome party...And we’d like you to help us out with the cooking...

Yui: A welcome party...? Will we have visitors over?

Kou: Of course not! Your welcome party, duh!

Laito: We feel really bad for what we did, you see? Sorry for throwing you into a cell out of the blue.

This party is meant to welcome you, as well as serve as an apology.

Kou: Carla-kun told us to do this so don’t worry. We’re not acting without permission.

Laito: That being said, we aren’t exactly great cooks, so even though you’re the guest of honor, we’d like to ask for your help.

Yui: Well...

( I honestly didn’t think they’d do such a thing for me... )

( They’re holding a welcome party for me. )

( Subaru-kun is... )

Subaru: ...

Yui: ( Not in the best of moods, as I figured. I wonder if he’s against the idea? He was completely enraged yesterday after all. )

( No, I shouldn’t keep thinking so negatively. I might as well take them up on their offer. )

I’ll gladly help out. Let’s put together a delicious feast, okay?

Kou: Thank god!

Laito: It’d be boring to have a bunch of guys flock together in the kitchen.

We’re very happy to have you help out.

Azusa: Yeah, I feel relieved...

Yui: ( Now that you mention it, none of them are particularly skilled in the kitchen. )

*Cling*

Kou: Here you go. Use this to cut up the ingredients, okay?

*Cling*

On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“Oi, don’t get distracted! ...What if you cut your finger?”

“Stop starin’ at me! Is it that funny to watch me cook!?”

Yui: Hey, how did you cook your meals up till now?

Kou: Well, the four of us did try to work together.

But Laito would always dip at one point or another and both Azusa-kun and I are better at eating food than preparing it...

Subaru-kun would pull through till the end despite all his complaints but to be honest, the meals he made were never ones to write home about...

Subaru: I’m sorry it tasted like shit! Maybe make it yourself then!

Kou: Just kidding~ We’re counting on you, so continue to try your best for us, okay~?

Subaru: Fuck off, I’ll kill you.

Yui: Fufu...Subaru-kun always takes care of those around him, doesn’t he?

Kou: Even though he’s the baby of the family~

Laito: Such a good boy he is.

Azusa: Subaru is...a nice guy...

Subaru: You shitheads really need to just shut up! Eve, don’t you dare laugh either!!

Selection

→ I thought it was cute (🖤)

Yui: Uhm, it’s cu...

Subaru: Aah!?

Yui: ( I guess he’ll get mad if I admit to finding it cute. )

Subaru: ...What?

Yui: I’m sorry, it’s nothing.

→ Genuinely apologize (♡)

Yui: I’m sorry, Subaru-kun. I couldn’t help myself...

Subaru: Apologizing won’t fix it.

Yui: R-Right.

Subaru: Oi, don’t look so serious. I’m not mad or anything.

Kou: Subaru-kun’s really nice despite his potty mouthー

Yui: ( He’s always looking out for those around him despite being somewhat of a lone wolf. )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ( ...I feel a bit better after laughing. The atmosphere isn’t as awkward as it was yesterday. )

Subaru-kun. I’ll lend you a hand, so let’s try our hardest together?

Subaru: Che...Fine, whatever.

Then pass those to me once you’ve cut them.

Yui: S-Sure.

*Chop*

Yui: ...Hey, Subaru-kun. Does this look good in terms of size?

Subaru: Ah? Ahー...I guess? Why are you asking me?

Yui: Eh? I mean, because you said that you’ve done most of the cooking up till now...

Subaru: But you’re the better cook, aren’t you?

...Besides, the stuff you make tastes better than mine as well.

Yui: ( Eh...? What did he say just now...? )

( Did he say it tastes delicious? Even though I haven’t cooked at all since I came here. )

( Are here memories coming back, perhaps...? )

Hey, Subaru-kun. How do you know what my cooking is like?

Subaru: ...Hah?

Yui: I mean, you just said that I’m the better cook...

Subaru: ...

No...I said it on a whim. I just imagine it’s better, no need to read into it.

Laito: Ah, are you perhaps sweet talking her to win Eve over?

Kou: Eh? Is that so!? You’re a clever strategist, Subaru-kun~

Subaru: Don’t be ridiculous! You guys should move your hands instead of your mouths!

Azusa: Exactly...Carla might get mad at us...if we don’t get everything ready on time...

Laito: I’m so sick and tired of that guy lecturing me. I’ll take this seriously even though it’s a drag.

Kou: Good point. We’re counting on you, Eve!

Yui: Then, could you tell me what we’re making today?

Kou: Sure~

Laito: Can’t you make everything while you’re at it? I doubt we’ll be of much help anyway.

Subaru: We’re not doing that. Oi, Laito. Don’t you dare sleep on the job today.

Azusa: Eve...I look forward to cooking with you...

Monologue

The four of us peacefully,

prepared the welcome party.

While spending time like this,

the strange situation currently taking place,

almost seemed to not exist at all.

Fake memories and incorrect family relationships.

Even so, it was fun,

to all cook together.

Since I was still unfamiliar with the kitchen,

things did not always go as planned.

However, we somehow managed to finish the dishes,

as the welcome party started without too much trouble.

After cleaning up the beautiful kitchen,

we headed for the dining room.

Since we were done with all the preparations,

Azusa-kun went to Carla-san’s room,

to go get him.

ー The scene shifts to the dining lounge

Carla: Everyone is here?

Azusa: Yeah, we are...

Carla: The food looks rather delicious as well.

Laito: Pretty unfair how you leave everything up to us when it comes to these kinds of things.

Carla: You want me to cook? I have always left such small household chores in your hands.

Kou: Ehー? I’m pretty sure it’s more accurate to say that you’re forcing them onto us...?

Azusa: Carla is taking command in this fight...So I am sure he has...a lot on his head already...

Kou: You’re right, Azusa-kun. I know.

Laito: Carla loves to make it difficult on himself, huh? Having to fight for the title of Supreme Overlord just sounds like a lot of trouble, doesn’t it?

Carla: Since I am the first-born of this family, it is my duty to lead and protect you.

Furthermore, there is not a single person in this World more fit for the title of Supreme Overlord.

Kou: Carla does seem like the perfect fit since he loves to be in charge, so I guess it works out in that sense.

Laito: I guess you could say he’s just the right person for the job?

Yui: ( Carla-san is everyone’s older brother...Something really does seem terribly off about this family make-up. )

( I wonder if the others really don’t remember anything about their real brothers? )

( Especially Carla-san, being a Founder, he is different from the others who are Vampires... )

( However, they were so kind to organize such a lovely welcome party for me. )

( Right now, I’ll show my gratitude and accept the sentiment. )

( ...Huh? The ring around my napkin has been decorated with a cute flower. )

( The others’ napkins don’t have anything of such sort, so did somebody put it on there for me? )

( I guess it’s part of welcoming me into the house? That makes me very happy. )

( I suppose it shows that they’re trying to be considerate of me? )

*TIMESKIP*

Carla: Well then, now that the banquet has started, I would like to share a couple of words. Eveーー

Yui: Yes, what is the matter?

Carla: Please forgive my previous crude behavior.

Yui: Eh...?

( I can’t believe he’s apologizing to me. Why...? )

Carla: You are necessary to our family. I would like to welcome you once more as our visitor.

Yui: ...

( Necessary...Because I’m Eve pretty much, right? )

( Rather than locking me up inside a prison cell and forcing me to cooperate with their plans. )

( Are they perhaps trying to win me over so I’ll willingly become their ally? )

( All so Carla-san can become the Supreme Overlord. )

( If that’s the case...I’m not sure how to feel about it. )

( I’m pretty sure that’s the reason why they organized this welcome party for me as well. )

( But when I look at everyone’s happy faces, I can’t just flat-out reject them, can I? )

( For now, I’ll just genuinely show my gratitude for their efforts... )

( No matter what kind of ulterior motives they may have... )

*Cling*

Kou: Azusa-kun, if you won’t finish your plate, I’ll take it~

Azusa: Ah...

Kou: Ehehe~ I ate it.

Yui: ( Ah, Kou-kun stole one of Azusa-kun’s sides. )

Subaru: Oi, Kou! How many times do I have to tell you to stop takin’ food from others!? Do somethin’ ‘bout that bad habit of yours already!

Laito: Don’t you need to stop them? It creates some ambiance, but it’s hard to enjoy my meal in peace like this.

Carla: Not my problem. Let them do that.

Laito: No, I’m pretty sure you should stop them?

Carla: It is not up to me to tell them how they should go about having their meal. Just ignore them until they’ve had their fun.

Subaru: They just have shit manners, no...?

Yui: ( I’m pretty sure Ruki-kun would stop them... )

( Carla-san always struck me as the type of person who’d be very strict about etiquette, but I guess he’s surprisingly lax in that regard? )

( I guess it’s because he was never that type of person? )

( Or perhaps it’s because Kou-kun and Azusa-kun aren’t his real brothers? I’m not sure which it is. )

Kou: I don’t mind behaving if you share some of your sides with me, Laito-kun?

Laito: ...Actually, I can tell by the look on Subaru-kun’s face that he’s simply dying to share his food with his older brothers.

Subaru: I’m not! Why me...?

Azusa: ...Subaru.

Subaru: ...Guh. Those puppy eyes won’t work on me.

Yui: Fufu. Kou-kun, Azusa-kun. If you’d like, you can have mine?

Azusa: Eh? Are you sure...? You’re such a kind girl, aren’t you...?

Kou: Hooray!

Subaru: Oi, don’t spoil them too much.

Carla: Are you sure, Eve? You are the guest of honor tonight.

Yui: Yes, I’ve already eaten plenty after all.

Carla: I see. You can do as you please then.

Kou: Thanks, Eve!

Azusa: I’m happy...Thank you...

Yui: You’re welcome. Honestly, it was worth making all of this now that I see all of you enjoying it so much.

( Even though the families have gotten jumbled up alongside their lost memories... )

( I guess things are going rather smoothly right now? )

Monologue

I do not think things should stay like this.

However, for now, I want to treasure,

this moment of peace.

While watching everyone,

interact in a friendly and peaceful manor,

the loneliness I feel inside becomes somewhat more bearable as well.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #subaru sakamaki #chaos lineage #diabolik lovers translation #clsubaru3

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blue-jisungs · 2 years

Note

OMG FINALLY SOMEONE THAT WRITES FOR SVT!! I deeply appreciate you for this!

Ahem so, I would love to request a Minghao fic with the dialogue prompts: 29, 12, 3

And the action prompts: 18 and maybe 32?

I thought the combination would be interesting 🪷

that’s sick!

a/n. thank you, i’m glad you do :D although i think there are plenty of talented people who write for svt as well ^^ i hope you enjoy it!! <3

i’m sorry i’m such a sucker for word games and bad puns it’s not even funny but i keep on writing my titles like that 😭😭😭

you tried your best to mask up the fact that you’re slightly sick. it was ridiculous, you know but it’s just… you and hao haven’t been on a date in ages due to your work. and you won’t let a mere cold stop you, right?

and the date went great. even though your head felt like it might explode any moment, minghao was distracting you and bringing the much needed comfort.

now you left the restaurant you’ve been to and as the cold wind blew against you, your teeth chattered. minghao scoffed, taking off his own scarf to wrap it gently around your neck.

"thank you so much, hao" you hummed and wanted to give him a kiss but you didn’t want to make him sick as well, so you leaned away last second "and thank you for this. i missed that. and you"

"i missed you too, angel" he hummed and swayed on his feet, thinking about something.

"i’ll go now. we’re both working in the morning so–" you started, sadness overwhelming you. you didn’t want to part ways. you just wanted to hold him and…

"i’ll walk you home" he said calmly, giving you a serious look "i’ve noticed you’re sick but come on, you know i wouldn’t let you go back home alone. especially this hour and in this state"

"what state?" you laughed nervously and you two began to walk slowly.

"oh y/n" hao giggled softly, yet a hint of concern was forming in his eyes "i can clearly hear you’re sick. and you’re burning plus you barely ate anything. i have to admit, i feel heartbroken you didn’t tell me that"

"i’m literally not sick" you mumbled, embarrassed by the fact he saw through you crystal clearly.

"why are you so stubborn, angel? it’s not a shame. in fact, i’d be honoured to be your personal nurse" minghao cooed, smiling softly.

"it’s just…" you sighed, looking away. "if i told you, you’d told me to stay home. andiwantedtospendsometimewithyou–"

"i can’t hear you, darling" he chuckled quietly, moving closer to you. you let out a sigh and shyly looked him in the eye. he wasn’t grossed out that you’re sick and everything, no. it warmed your heart when you noticed he’s genuinely concerned about you.

"i wanted to spend some time with you. we barely see each other anymore. i know the idol life isn’t easy but… i was looking forward to seeing to, kissing you… and i’m sick and i can’t do that" you mumbled, pouting slightly. he chuckled and gently slid his wands into yours, interlocking your fingers. it was warm. or maybe it was your hand that was warm? it didn’t matter.

"you’re kinda cute… you know, only kinda" he laughed softly and pulled you closer to him "i can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’re sick, it’s so gross!"

you scoffed, knowing well he’s just teasing you.

"once we’re at your place, you’re going under a warm blanket and i’ll take care of you. i’ll make sure you get back to normal and then i’ll give you all the kisses in the world" minghao said and drew circles in a comforting motion on your skin. your heart fluttered and you just leaned into his touch.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @lhsng ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinhobi

#minghao #minghao fluff #the8 fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #the8 seventeen #minghao seventeen #minghao x y/n #minghao scenarios #minghao reactions #minghao imagines #the8 scenarios #the8 reactions #the8 imagines #svt soft hours #blue jisungs's ask game #svt performance unit

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goldenempyrean · 2 years

Note

Hi, can I request Scarlett x reader maybe they are both in an interview but Scarlett is sick but says they are not, but goes through the interview sounding sick pushing through coughs and sneezes. when the interview is over reader makes them go home and rest and cancel anything else for the day! thank you!

also, love your writing!

An Interrupted Interview

Aaah this is just a short little fic for this req. Sorry its so short but I really wanna get these out so I can FINALLY post something which I’ve been really excited to announce!

Summary: Your fiancé is sick, but theres no way she’ll admit it, especially during an interview.

Wordcount: 913

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

“Oh excuse me again, Im so sorry about that.” Scarlett blushed red with embarrassment as she apologised again.

“Its alright! Bless you again!” The kind woman interviewing the pair of you replied, “Should we take that again for the camera?”

“Yeah, lets do that.” You replied.

Both your and Scarlett were currently filming a behind the scenes interview which was to be filmed and posted on a local news station. Unfortunately Scarlett had been dealing with a rather nasty cold for the last few days but was being incredibly stubborn to admit it to anyone, even if it was blatantly obvious. No amount of makeup could hide her red-tinged nose and the tiredness which lay behind her eyes.

“So, how is the dynamic on set? Has there any been fallouts?” The interviewer asked, looking towards Scarlett for the answer.

Scarlett cleared her throat before answering, “No nobody has ever fallen out. Everything is great here, everyone is so open and it just creates then really honest and fun atmosphere where everyone is comfortable.”

She managed to smile as she finished her sentence, just as her breath hitched rapidly again, “Hh-hup’tshoo!” hHep’tshhiew!”

“Bless you.” Both you and the interviewer said in unison.

She sniffled damply and with some reluctance, reached for the packet of tissues in her back pocket.

“Ugh, excuse me a moment.” Scarlett’s voice was congested as she spoke, before turning around to blow her nose.

“Allergies?” The interview offered, obviously feeling bad for her.

“She’s caught a cold.” You chimed in, earning yourself a light dig from your fiancée as she sniffled.

“No I haven’t. Im fine.” She paused to muffle a cough into her elbow, “Sorry, lets just continue.”

“Are you sure? We can take a break if you’d like? Its not a prob- oh bless you, bless you.” The interviewer was interrupted by Scarlett having to turn to stifle another set of sneezes, this time you’d placed your hand on her back as she began coughing deeply afterwards.

“Here, have some water sweetie.” You thanked the crew manager who’d ran up to you holding a bottle of water, “There you go.”

“Im so sorry about this. Im usually more put together than this.” Scarlett gave a forced congested-sounding laugh.

“So, speaking of colds. What happens when someone in unwell round here? Does it spread fast, how is everything handled?” The interviewer moved on, clicking her pen to take notes on a small pad.

“Well, like most ‘workplaces’.” You did the bunny-ears motion with your fingers, “Things like colds can go around quite easily especially considering the close contact nature of the job. But we mainly try to sanitise a lot, everyone washes their hands frequently as such.”

You paused to bless Scarlett who had been busy trying to stifle another fit of sneezes, “But its inevitable that when one person gets sick, others catch it too. But we’re like a family here we try out best to take care of each other.”

Scarlett gave a nod of agreement adding, “We do have a medic on-set too incase of any emergency situations that may happen.”

“Oh wow, so you’ve though of everything? It’s obvious to me too that you guys really do care about not only each other but everyone on the set.” The interviewer said with a smile as she continued.

In total the interview continued for roughly another 20 minutes, it would’ve been shorter it had lasted so long mainly due to the fact so many shots had to be retaken due to Scarlett’s body interrupted, which wasn’t her fault at all so both you and the interviewer didn’t seem too fussed about the extra time spent.

By the end though, it was obvious that Scarlett was exhausted, the whole thing having drained her energy. Her eye’s kept closing as you both said goodbye to the interviewer. You thanked her as she left before turning around to see your fiancé had sat herself down on a box, her head in her hands as her fingers slowly messaged her temples. From her sniffling alone it was more then obvious that she was feeling pretty miserable.

“You sure that you don’t have a cold?” You teased as you came behind her to lean down into a comforting hug, laying your arms loosely around her neck so that your hands sat on her chest. A position you knew brung her comfort, it made her feel safe.

“Oh! The person who interviewed us, Lisa? She said that she hopes you feel better too.” You added, having remembered her final words to you.

Scarlett sighed, “That’s kind of her but Im really not sick. Its probably allergies or something.”

All you could do was shake your head as afew minutes later Scarlett was set off into another small coughing fit, one which left her feeling even more exhausted, “Maybe I do have a cold afterall…”

“Oh. You definitely do. Theres no maybe about it sweetie.” You laughed, “It’ll be okay though. We don’t have anything else planned for today do we?”

She thought for a moment before groaning as she remembered something, “We have – Hh’h’iishiew! Hup’tshoo! that meeting about ‘correct harness saf- saftey. Hhup’tshhh!

“Goodness Scar, you trying to break a record or something?” You laughed as you blessed her, “Well about that meeting. I’ll call us out of it. They can give it to us another time. You’re going to go back to our trailer and sleep off that cold, yeah?”

“Are you coming too?”

“Where else would I be?” You replied, giving her a gentle squeeze before moving to take her hand.

“Lets go then.”

#sickfic #snzfic #marvel sickfic #whump #fluffy #marvel snzfic #mcu #femreader #snz #sick scarlett johansson x reader #sick scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson sickfic #scarlett johansson whump #scarlett johansson comfort #scarlett johansson caretaking #scarlett johansson x reader #sick!scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson fluff #scarlett johansson x y/n

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weirdkpopgirl · 2 years

Text

Exposed | Chenle Imagine #1

Title: Exposed

Genre: Comedy, Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 827

Author’s Note: I honestly wasn’t sure how to title this one, so I apologize 😅. This was a request from earlier, and inspiration kinda shot through me. I had a pretty fun time writing. To the anon that requested this, I hope this was satisfactory. Thank you for reading! ^ - ^

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Both of you were surprised you have lasted almost a year and a half. Chenle had taken interest in you some time ago when you met at a park when he was walking his dog. You fell completely in love with Daegal, and that’s how you became friends. Slowly, casual hangs out turned into dates, and Chenle asked how you’d feel about being his girlfriend.

From the beginning, you and Chenle had a mutual agreement to keep things private. Not because one of you was embarrassed about the other. It was just knowing how fans can be, and not wanting to risk the company interfering. Chenle didn’t want to let that stuff get in between you guys, and he wanted to keep you safe. The two of you were also fairly new to being in a relationship, so you wanted to take things slow.

So no one knew that you were dating, not your friends, and not even his members.

You had to admit it was kind of nice to have a quiet relationship. Chenle was so sweet to you. He could easily make you laugh and helped you to see things in a more positive light. While Chenle appreciated how you were always looking out for him. He could tell that you didn’t like him because of his fame or status. Your feelings were sincere, and he could be himself around you.

By now Chenle and you were pretty serious, and he found it getting harder to keep this a secret. He wanted to be able to brag about you to his members and show the cute selfies he had taken of you sleeping with Daegal. How bad it could be if just a few people knew?

“We’ve done so well so far,” You said to him one day, petting his head. “Maybe we should still wait a bit.”

Of course, you understood when he told you his feelings on this. But you were a little afraid of the possible outcomes. If the wrong person found out, you could lose your boyfriend in a second. You didn’t think you were ready yet.

“Yeah, we’ll do it when we’re both ready,” Chenle agreed.

A few days after that conversation, you were at Chenle’s house. He didn’t have any schedule that day, so he asked you to come over to spend some time together. You were in his bedroom playing with Daegal, while he was in the kitchen making ramen for you two.

Coincidentally, this was the day the Dreamies decided to make a surprise visit. You sat up when you heard voices from the living room. Feeling anxious, you cautiously stepped out of the room with Daegal in your arms.

You immediately froze when you saw his members at the front door. They looked at you, equally surprised to see a person they’d never seen before in Chenle’s house.

“Who are you?” Jeno tilted his head. “Do any of you know her?”

Jisung put a hand over his mouth, “Is she a dog-napper?”

The boys continued to talk amongst each other, while you stood there holding Daegal closer to you. Haechan was threatening to call the police when Chenle came in.

“You idiots.” He mentally facepalmed and went to stand by you who looked terrified. But his members didn’t appear too phased by the younger’s insult.

“Chenle, who is this?” Renjun asked.

He quickly glanced over to you and you gave him a small nod. It was now or never at this point.

“This is (Y/n). She’s my girlfriend.”

The boys stared at him with wide eyes. “What?!” “Girlfriend?” “Are you serious right now?”

They were pretty shocked to hear this news. The room was so loud with their gazillion questions. Chenle sighed and turned to you who shrugged with a smile. Eventually, he got them to chill out and sit down. On the other hand, you still haven’t said a word.

Mark was the first to speak up properly. “Honestly, this is great news! We’re happy for you Chenle.”

“Yeah sorry about our earlier,” Jisung smiled sheepishly.

Slowly, you began to relax. “It’s alright.”

“How did you guys meet?” Jaemin would then ask. Thankfully, Chenle did most of the explaining. Now they understood where the singer had been sneaking off to.

Haechan sulked, “I can’t believe you’ve hidden this from us for so long.”

“I’m sorry. (Y/n) is a little shy with other people,” Chenle said. “And we wanted to be sure that we were serious before we told anyone.”

The two of you exchanged a smile, leaving the boys in awe at how cute you guys were. This was not how either of you imagined telling the boys about your relationship. But you guys knew you could trust them with your secret. They were also super supportive and made an effort to make you feel comfortable.

But yeah, a chaotic first meeting for a chaotic group. What can you expect?

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

#nct dream #nct #zhong chenle #chenle imagine #chenle #kpop #fluff #nczten #czennie #dreamies

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queen-of-weird-girl-nation · 14 days

Text

@auroraofthesun1

Diary of a teenage Christian girl

Monday 1st August 2024

Writing late at night so this makes no sense. I’m under the covers in Esther’s bunk bed and she’s drawing me. She draws me much prettier than I am and she says I write her much prettier than she used to. I am truly blessed by the lord for such a good friend.

So here’s what happened when we arrived

Apparently we have a room switch up, after we’d unpacked which was annoying but expected. Camp is apparently always sorta unorganised like that! I’m still with Esther, Praise the Lord on high, but with an entirely different group.

In the group there’s 4 other girls, and my sister isnt here. I don’t really mind though. It’s not that we don’t get along, but me and Darlene aren’t very buddy buddy. We chat but run in different circles, it’s fine. I have 8 siblings, I don’t have to be super close with all of them.

The four girls are : Rachel, Mary, Ruth (not the other Ruth, we have a lot of Ruth’s in our church) and Sarah.

It’s kind of encouraged to talk bad about your roommates. Me and Esther do it a lot, and I know they do it too. It seems ingrained into church culture. I see mom do it, I see the ladies at church do it. Everyone’s a judge.

Like how Mary’s a glutton who probably loves food more than the Lord and Rachel’s a slut who admitted to wearing a certain outfit for male attention and Ruth has a necklace with a crystal on it which she swears is fake but I don’t believe it.

Me and Esther are sinners too, everyone is. I think I am the worst and ye the best, I think that I am so much better but the scum of the earth, I am the best Christian in this room and yet the most unworthy in the eyes of the Lord. Ive done a lot for christ, and so has Esther. Esther fasts. She fasts most of her time, and barely eats. I admire her dedication. I fast a lot too, and supliment never eating with praying. Praying so much. I scream to the Lord. Always

If I’m not thinking about God then what am I thinking of? Picture God and Jesus standing on heaven looking at me and judging me. They see everything and every thought. They KNOW!

But other than that I chatted with my roommates and other than the stuff I mentioned they all seemed great. We went to the sermon, which was powerful.

We spent the first hour thirty minutes singing worship songs and praise. I might have permanent hearing problems sorry Lord that last comment was ungrateful for even if the Lord brings sorrow I will rejoice and rejoice in my suffering suffering suffering. I am not suffering. I have the Lord.

I cried during the sermon, when they talked about how Jesus died for me. The guilt could have crushed me and I felt so happy. Happy that I was feeling the right emotions, guilt. Esther was crying too, and I knew she wouldn’t eat tomorrow. Good for her. I should fast too. I would, praying and fasting and praying and begging to be forgiven. Forgiven for what? The crime of existing.

A couple kids collapsed, sobbing, touched by the spirit. It didn’t happen to me. I felt awful, why didn’t I happen to me. It happened to Rachel and she cried about her parents divorce tainting her. At least she’s self aware. I’ll fall to the ground next time. We’re here for threee weeks.

The sermon was on sacrifice. I remember hearing a similar one when I was 7, the day I knew I would gladly die a martyr. I had my martyrship perfectly planned since I was 7, and with a bit of tweaking I’d made a perfect death.

It would be when I was still young, because it would be more inspiring that way. Id be in a situation of oppression. A shooter would come in to my class room, a big scary atheist who hated Christian’s and wanted us dead. And I wouldn’t hide, and would sing Amazing Grace. I would sing amazing grace while he shot me and my final words would be praising the Lord. I would be loved and adored even in death. I would certainly go to heaven. That was my dream. My greatest wish is to die.

Esther showed me her drawing. She’s a great artist, and drew me adorable . She says I am adorable.

She’s adorable too. I’m gonna sleep now.

Forever the Lords

Grace

#did anyone else have a martyr fantasy?#just me ok #she’s so brainwashed ilhsm #tw ed but not sheeran #tw religious themes #tw christianity #tw evangelical #tw Christian guilt #tw ed implied #tw religious trauma #diary of a teenage Christian girl

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theoddcatlady · 5 months

Text

A Bachelor to Die For, Week One

I swear, I thought I was just starring on a dating show.

My name is Paige. I decided to put my name in the hat for Mr. Right as a joke, I just broke up with a long term boyfriend and hey, dating shows are all fake anyway right? Even if I got in, which was a slim chance anyway, I’d be told what to say and what to do. All for a good show.

I was shook when I got the call saying I’d been picked, pack my bags, I was going to be famous. Despite not really caring at first, I got really, really excited. I tend to binge watch reality shows when I’m having a bad day, just to have something to laugh at, so appearing on one sounded like a great time.

At the airport I met up with one of the hosts, Bruce Hayes, and two of the other contestants, Diana Vega and Taylor Challis. Bruce had a smile like the shark he shared a name with, clearly hit the tanning booth too often, and had uncomfortably white teeth, but he seemed nice. He pulled me into a way too tight hug when I tried going for a handshake. I swear I felt my shoulders pop when he let me go.

“Paige! So great to meet you, the other girls are on the plane already. Ever been to Canada?” He asked as he escorted me to the private flight.

I shook my head. “Never left the country before. Why Canada though, it’s gonna get real cold in a few weeks,” I said.

Bruce laughed so loudly I nearly flinched. “Well, that’s the perfect time to cuddle up with Mr. Right then, isn’t it?” He said.

“Good point.”

A tall black woman was slamming her suitcase into the overhead when I got on. She glanced over at me and I immediately got the oh so familiar feeling of inadequacy- she was drop dead gorgeous.

“Hey, Paige, right?” She gave the suitcase a final punch before skipping up to me and shaking my hand. “I’m Taylor.”

She was also British. How fair is that?

I nodded as I took a seat. “You going to be one of the other contestants?” She asked.

“Yep. I sorta entered as a joke,” I admitted.

“Oh my god, same!” Taylor laughed, her smile downright infectious. “My mates and I all entered, if anyone got in they all had to buy the winner drinks when she got back. I’m going to get positively slammed when I piss off Mr. Right with too many puns and get kicked off.” Taylor kicked the seat in front of her, startling the woman who had her headphones in. “Hey, turn off your damn podcast and say hi to Paige!”

“Shit!” The woman yanked out her earbuds, blushing bright red. She was just as gorgeous as Taylor, with olive skin and wavy dark brown hair. “I’m so sorry, when I got a podcast on I can tune out the whole world. I’m Diana.”

I waved. “I get it. You excited to be here?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Diana grinned, dimples showing up in her round cheeks. “My sister entered me, but now that we’re going I’m really getting into it. I’ve never really seen any dating shows so this is going to be a new experience.”

Bruce took his seat in front of me and chuckled. “Well, we hope to make this a unique experience, something new in a world growing stale with the same old thing. You excited?”

I gave two thumbs up, Diana cheered, and Taylor pumped both fists in the air. “Hell yes! Get this plane in the sky!” She said.

Bruce laughed as he gestured for the pilot to get going.

After take off I fished my Kindle out of my bag for some reading during the few hour flight, only to find I forgot to charge the goddamn thing. I started digging through my bag for the charger when I felt someone lightly poke my arm.

I looked up at Diana, who sat next to me and opened up her bag, which was packed to the brim with books. “This is why I’m going to develop back problems- I refuse to get an e-reader and just carry a library with me. You like fantasy?” She asked.

“Yes, thank you!” I picked a book I didn’t recognize. “I hope to write my own fantasy book someday.”

“Really?!” Diana’s eyes went huge. “That sounds amazing. What will it be about?”

Diana and I became fast friends. She had a great feeling that I was gonna come out on top as some sort of dark horse, since as she put it, ‘you don’t see yourself in a good light’. She worked as a receptionist at a doctor’s office and went hiking every weekend.

Honestly I didn’t get to finish the second chapter of my borrowed book, but I had a good time bonding with Diana. Taylor would pipe in with bad jokes and witty comments, we laughed so hard we nearly cried and my sides hurt. By the time we disembarked, we were acting like old friends.

We actually got to ride a limo to the shooting location and where we’d be staying during the duration of the show- an actual freakin’ mansion.

“This is the Vath Home. Another reason we’re shooting in Canada, Paige- the Vaths have been kind enough to let us use the estate for the show,” Bruce said.

“This is where the bachelor lives?!” Diana said, eyes nearly popping out of her skull.

Taylor snickered, a clear sign she was amused by whatever awful joke popped into her head. “He’s absolutely compensating for something…” She muttered, causing all of us to erupt into peels of laughter as we exited the car.

“Ladies! You’re finally here!”

A woman walked out the front door, clearly the other host we’d been told about, Monica Hoar. Something about her stretched smile unsettled me even more than Bruce’s, maybe it was the bright red lipstick. “You’re the final arrivals, and just on time, we’re about to shoot all the introductions! The servants will get your bags, just hurry up into make up and get ready!”

It was not fun sitting in front of the cameras when I’d spent the last several hours traveling and all I wanted to do was nap, but it did give me a chance to check out the competition. Found out that Taylor was an accountant, that she loved beach combing for seashells, scuba diving and apparently one hell of a dancer.

The next girl was Justice Sloane, and oh, bless her heart but she was not very bright. She was the culmination of every dumb blonde joke in the book, but she was a real sweetheart. Obviously quite pretty too, with blonde curls and big brown eyes. She was so damn excited to be here, she always wanted to be on a reality show, and she loved traveling around the world and collecting shot glasses from every locale.

Tara Saito was a fitness trainer and a fitness junkie. Her shiny black hair was cut into a pixie and she had this scar going through her left eyebrow, apparently from when she accidentally got whacked with a tennis racket in highschool. She apparently ran eight miles every day, wanted to push it up to ten next year. She was the competitive type, she wasn’t going to be a bitch but she wasn’t going to come out of here a loser. The only way she was walking out was ‘with a rock on her left ring finger’, her exact words. She had a pet snake back home named Bubbles. She didn’t name him that, he came with that name.

Jade Hutchison was clearly meant to be the drama causing bitch of the season. She actually took a moment of her interview to mock Justice and imply the girl had fake boobs. Classy. Thank god it flew over poor Justice’s head. She was the other blonde on set and I don’t think she’s really smiled all week, unless she was on camera. She worked at a salon as a hair stylist and I have the feeling was just there to be famous.

And then there was Shannon Radde. I thought I was socially awkward, but the girl had to be constantly told to look up at the camera instead of her feet. She was a cute, skinny nerd with thick rimmed glasses and long red hair, almost reached her hips. She was a factory worker and had her own Etsy shop creating fandom bath bombs. She almost made it through her interview when Jade made a comment about how inclusive the show was to include a retard, causing Shannon to burst into tears and run off the set. Bruce just encouraged the cameramen to keep the cameras on poor Shannon as she fled. Taylor and Tara teamed up to tell Jade where she could stick it while Diana ran after Shannon to comfort the poor girl.

When Shannon was encouraged to come back on set, we were all sat back down on the couch and given a bombshell-

This first week, we wouldn’t be meeting this season’s Mr. Right, Donovan Vath. Instead, he would be watching from hidden cameras placed all around the house. After the week was over, someone would be gone and then the real competition would begin.

Weird, maybe, but this first week was just fine.

The Vath Mansion had everything, its own movie theater and bowling alley in the basement, an indoor pool, a sauna, a hot tub out back in the middle of a hedge maze, you name a luxury the Vaths had it. I found myself in the library with Diana a lot, we both had a freak out over finding a first edition of ‘The Hobbit’, kept in a locked glass case so all we could do was gawk.

Each of the girls were sharing a room other than Justice, who was the lucky one of the week who got to bunk in the Queen’s Room. Apparently that was another thing- after this, whoever earned Donovan’s favor for the week would get their own bedroom, reportedly closest to his own. I roomed with Tara, who was out of bed by five AM every morning to take a run around the property.

“There is a home gym, aren’t you cold running outside?” I remember groggily asking as she got dressed in her work out gear.

“I find I work out better if I get some fresh air,” She said as she slipped her hoodie on. “You want to join me?”

I might have thrown my pillow at her. She absolutely caught it and pitched it right back at my head.

Again, everything was normal this week. Diana and I definitely clicked the most, but I can’t say I really disliked anyone other than Jade. Justice was ditzy, but she was also sincerely sweet and made sure everyone always felt included in our hangouts. Tara definitely had to always be the best, but she never put down anyone else. Shannon was socially awkward, but she had this cutest snort when Taylor got her laughing.

I wish that was the show. Just us all being friends.

Day seven and we were all lined up in the same room. We were laughing and joking around. Taylor bet me sixty bucks that Jade was going out first, I bet seventy that it would be me. Tara shoved me and said if I kept talking myself down then I would end up being the first to go. She’s all about how your outlook on things will affect the outcome.

The main cameras switched on and Bruce and Monica flicked on their shark like grins.

“I’m Bruce Hayes-”

“And I’m Monica Hoar-”

“And you’re watching Mr. Right!”

The music got really tense, something that made me giggle. Diana had to elbow me to get me to stop. Bruce clapped his hands together.

“Ladies, I have to say, you’ve all made this first week really special. I’m so glad you all came. But of course, every week we have to say good bye to one person who just didn’t impress our gentleman. Monica?”

Monica cleared her throat and ripped open a white envelope. “The lady leaving us this week is…”

I held my breath. Even if I didn’t care about winning, I was still tense.

“Justice Sloane.”

Justice gasped, looking around as if she expected another Justice to show up and take her place. Then she straightened her shoulders and put on a smile, even if I could see tears sparkling in her eyes.

“Any last words, Justice?” Monica asked.

Justice nodded. “Um… just that even though I didn’t even get to meet Mr. Right, I got to meet a lot of really, really great people. I hope we can all be friends, even when it’s over,” She said.

Monica gestured for Justice to exit out the archway, and head still head high, Justice walked out. She turned around to wave goodbye, still smiling, still so happy…

When the spike speared through her chest, spraying blood everywhere. Her smile faded, I heard screaming, maybe it was me, maybe it was all of us. She looked down, shaking fingers touching the spike before her eyes rolled back and she slumped down in the rapidly growing pool of red. The spike slowly pulled back, I heard a wet sounding tear and I saw a lump of flesh get ripped out of her back and into the darkness of the hallway.

I heard chewing and a swallow before a figure walked into the light.

A man walked into the light, sucking off the tip of one of his bloodied fingers. Sharp cheekbones and a jawline that went on for days didn’t do anything for me with a mouth covered in blood. That spike was connected to a long, many jointed tail, almost like a scorpion’s. It flicked into the air before just vanishing. He smiled, his teeth stained red.

“Good to finally meet you, everyone. I am Donovan Vath.”

Tara reacted first, she bolted for the other doorway, but Monica pulled out a little canister of mace from her purse and sprayed her in the face. She went down with a banshee screech, clawing at her eyes. Shannon had completely frozen up, dropping to her knees as her face went ghostly pale. Jade violently puked up her breakfast, bile and remnants of pancakes splattering across the hardwood floor. Diana was still screaming bloody murder. Taylor was backing up for the window, looking for anything to help her bust on through. I followed her movements and was about to grab a lamp when Bruce cleared his throat.

“Before you attempt to leave, ladies, might I remind you that a breach of contract will result in you immediately being kicked from the show, and if you didn’t already guess…”

He gestured to Justice’s limp body on the ground. I stared at what used to be such a lively girl, someone I probably could’ve called a friend for a long time. I dropped to the ground and blacked out.

I woke up in bed. Diana was with me. She was a mess, her make up smeared over her cheeks and she was softly rocking back and forth while softly sobbing.

“Diana?” I managed to sit up.

Diana wrapped me in a tight hug. “I… I just want to go home,” She said in between hiccups.

I hugged her back just as tight. Nothing I could say could make this situation better.

I don’t know what to do. We’ve been told if we’re caught contacting family or friends, that’s a breach of contract and they’ll be in ‘a heap of trouble’ as well as us getting kicked off the show. And if you get kicked off the show, Donovan will eat your heart. I don’t want to die. I don’t want my family to die if I get them tangled in this mess.

God help me though, because this week, I’m staying in the Queen’s Room.

Week Two

#my stories

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roseytoesy · 1 year

Text

frick dude I’m brainrotting so bad…twst has my whole heart and my vore brain demands I write things for some characters… sorry not sorry if this makes no sense. It’s brain vomit.

Azul: “oh you want to make a deal?… o-oh a-are you sure about that? You’re sure you want that?? W-well a deals a deal… come on in?”

gulp! Gulp-

“a-ah! Please stop squirming so much! I-it feels… weird. are you alright?… what an odd human you are. Wishing to be in the belly of a monster- hey! stop hitting me! I get it I won’t call myself a monster! Please be gentle in there…” “you we’re surprisingly tasty and I will admit the weight you provided in my core was very pleasant… perhaps we could do this deal again?”

Floyd: “ne~ shrimpy wants to play? What are we playing? Oh? Hehe you wanna play in my belly? Sure just know I love to play with my food~”

slurp! Glurk! Gulp! Glk!

“Ahhh! Hmmmmm, shrimpys so tasty! Yummy yummy in my tummy! And your little squirms feel so nice. All mine, my little tasty squishy snacky! Hehehe that tickles! Urp”

“I liked squeezing you so close shrimpy! Made you all mine for a bit~ gonna haveta do this more often <3”

Jade: “oh is there something you wish to ask of me prefect? Oya? I’m sorry I must have bad saltwater in my ear. Mind repeating yourself? Fufufu~ I’ll be more than happy to fulfill your little request. On the house. I was in need of a snack anyway. Now come here my little morsel~”

slurp. Gulp! Glurk, gln

“Rrrp. Pardon me. You ok in there snack? Hmmmm. Yes do so keep wiggling, it feels wonderful. I’m sure azul won’t mind me taking my break a bit early tonight. It’s not often I get to indulge in such a tasty meal. A going to have to be careful you don’t fatten me up with how sweet you tasted. Fufufu~ I’m only joking. Wouldn’t want the headmaster to expel me. Relax prefect you’re fine I’ll release you in a few hours. I’m just having a bit of fun with my food. Oof! Hmmm yes always such fun reactions.”

“thank you for dining with us tonight prefect. Do come back soon. Fufufu. I look forward to some taste testing in the future~”

Jamil: “hmmm? Is there something you need from me perfect? Y-you what?! Let me get this straight, you want me to swallow you whole? But why? Ok, ok. You’re so weird.”

gulp! glrn

“I-urp, excuse me, please don’t move much in there… it’s, I don’t even know how to describe it. Just please don’t move. I have other things to do, yes other chores... I’ll let you out when you’re ready I guess.”

“I’ll never understand why you would want something like that, but lucky for you I won’t ask anymore. Your taste is quite divine, I might want to indulge in this in the future if your still willing~”

Kalim: “hi prefect! How are you today! Huh you want to ask me something of course go ahead! Huh?! Sorry I thought you asked me to eat you. Y-you did…. Uhhhhh, I mean… well yes I could I just don’t-I don’t want you to get hurt. Promise me you’ll tell me if anything goes wrong ok?”

glup! gulp!

“Oh wow, that tickles! Brup! Sorry about that. You ok in there? Oh that’s great to hear! What’s it like? Is it weird? I imagine it’s all dark, sorry I can’t help with that part. Hehe, glad you’re having fun in there. I do have to admire it feels rather nice! Thank you for letting me help you and letting me experience something so different and new!”

“glad you’re alright! Hey! Maybe we can go flying next time to see if it feels any different! Or add some spices onto your skin- what do you mean thats weird? It will be fine as long as Jamil doesn’t find out!”

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schrijverr · 11 months

Text

A Behind the Scenes of: Living in Boston in '88

Jonathan looks back at when he just moved out with Argyle and Nancy and gives insight into how the party stayed connected.

On AO3.

Ships: Jargancy (background byler, elumax, steddie, jopper)

Warnings: homophobia mention and bad parenting mention

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi, I’m Jonathan Byers, the main photographer and editor of A Collection of Queer Photography,” he starts out the video. “Today I’m giving you a behind the scene look of when me, Argyle and Nancy moved to Boston in ‘88 and our relationship with the people home.”

He scratches the back of his head and explains: “This might be a little vague, sorry, but page 32 to 35 are about the fact that we moved out, but still came home. I’m explaining it wrong, let me check what Nance wrote.”

“You’re explaining it just fine,” Argyle assures him from behind the camera. “Don’t stress, buttercup.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan smiles, before flipping to the right page.

“Alright,” he says. “She first writes: Just because you are moved far away, doesn’t mean you are out of the loop or cut off from those you love. It is more work to connect with them, but that makes the time they are there all the more worth it. Where we lived was small and the three of us filled it just fine, however, there is a homeliness that comes from a crowded home.”

“Doesn’t she have a great way with words?” he comments to the camera, before flipping the page and reading: “Then on the next page she writes: Leaving also doesn’t mean never coming back, never witnessing what happens to those who have stayed behind. Moving on, doesn’t mean one can’t look back. It is important to reach back to your past if you want to be a family. Connections are built on memories and keeping up with one another. Many associate breaks with no homework and letting loose, we associate them with meeting up and letting others get to know the new pieces of yourself you have found in the time you were away.”

“Hopefully that kind of explains the vibes we’re going for and if not, hopefully they become clearer when we get into it,” Jonathan smiles awkwardly. “Starting with up First Long Haul.”

It is of Will, standing next to a car, having gotten out of the driver side seat. He is grinning proudly at the camera. He is parked quite neatly before the backdrop of a Boston street. In the passenger side seat is Mike, he is leaning to the back to grab something.

“This is when Mike and Will came to visit us for the first time,” Jonathan explains. “Will had just gotten his driver’s license and this was his first long drive. That’s our mom’s car there.”

“I love how proud he looks of himself here. He spend hours with dad parking over and over and over again until he got it and he parked very smooth. He rubbed it in for hours, which is so rude, but very fair. I’m horrible at parking,” Jonathan admits.

“That’s okay, baby boy, me and Nance can park for you,” Argyle says.

“And I am very grateful for it,” Jonathan laughs.

He turns back to the photo and continues: “This was also when the two had just started dating, so this road trip was nerve wrecking for them, but they had a lot of fun.”

“Of course Will is my little brother and Mike is Nancy’s little brother, so we loved that they could come see where we live now. However, there is a certain sibling dynamic that can be hard to not fall back into, which you can see in Sibling Visits,” Jonathan says.

The photo is of the kitchen table where Nancy and Mike are talking. Nancy seems to be saying something with passion, pointing at the notebook on the table, Mike is rolling his eyes at her in annoyance. Will is also in the image, he has one hand on Mike’s back, seemingly to keep him calm, but he is giving the camera an exasperated look.

“Nancy and Mike both have strong personalities and have their antagonistic moments,” Jonathan explains. “They love each other, but they haven’t always gotten along. They can have the most intense arguments about anything.”

He turns to Argyle and asks: “Do you remember what this argument was about?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Argyle replies. Then a little louder he calls out: “Nancy, beautiful, you have time for a second?”

It cuts to Nancy walking into frame and leaning over Jonathan’s shoulder to look at the photo in question, before she snorts: “Oh yeah, I was writing a piece about college AV club, Mike took issue with how I explained it, even though he hadn’t been in AV club since middle school and I got all my information from the current AV club president. Technology had evolved since then, he can be so annoying sometimes.”

“That does sound vaguely familiar,” Jonathan says.

“It was a whole thing,” Nancy rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t look annoyed at the memory of their argument, more fond.

“Thank you for coming down,” Jonathan smiles at her. “Still busy?”

“Yeah, doing research for that interview I have coming up,” Nancy answers. She leans over and kisses Jonathan before saying: “Good luck, have fun.”

“You too,” Jonathan smiles as Nancy disappears out of frame.

On Argyle’s mic another kiss is picked up, before Argyle also says: “Good luck with your research, baby.”

“Thank you,” Nancy replies, before her footsteps disappear.

Jonathan’s eyes follow her before looking back to the camera and giving a dopey smile. Then he clears his throat and adds: “I also love that Will is in there, because it adds to the atmosphere. They had been friends for over a decade before they started dating and have been a witness to all of each other’s bullshit. You can see how Will kind of doesn’t bother with truly calming the situation, just giving support and letting it be. I think that says a lot.”

“On the next page we have Differing Opinions, from when Jane came to visit with Max and Lucas,” Jonathan says.

Differing Opinions is of El and Argyle, a pineapple pizza between them. Lucas is also seated at the table, looking at them with disgust. Max is next to him, pointing at his New Coke with judgment.

“The three of them had been getting closer since ‘86 and this was right before they started dating actually,” Jonathan says. “I like to think we three had a good influence on them when they came by, since I remember Jane asking a lot of questions about our relationship.”

“This photo to me is just funny, Argyle and Jane are firmly pro-pineapple on pizza, but Lucas not so much,” Jonathan laughs.

“Don’t try before you deny,” Argyle exclaims, the phrase well worn with use and comfortable in his mouth.

“Totally. I’ve warmed up to it over the years but Nance still hates it,” Jonathan tells the audience.

“At least she tried,” Argyle shrugs.

“That she did,” Jonathan nods. “Anyway, Lucas was horrified with it, but he liked New Coke, which had been introduced in ‘85 and was definitely not coke. I think they discontinued it in the early 2000s.”

“The point is, no one liked New Coke except Lucas, which Max is unafraid to point out to him, even though she also doesn’t like pineapples on pizza,” Jonathan says. “It shows their dynamic quite well.”

“Braiding Lessons is also taken during that visit,” Jonathan moves on.

The photo is of Argyle, El, Max and Nancy. El is sitting on the back of the couch so that Max can sit on the couch itself, she is braiding her hair in a fancy style. Next to her is Nancy, who is braiding Argyle’s hair, she looks to be teaching El how to do it.

“Jane loves doing her hair and other people’s hair,” Jonathan explains. “I’m not going to get into it, but she had a few bad experiences growing up with her hair being cut off and as you probably have seen in the photos she’d been forced to cut it off in ‘86. So, this is both a domestic image and a very important moment for her.”

He goes on: “Jane absolutely idolizes Nancy as the epitome of pretty, which I can’t argue with at all, by the way. So she was delighted that Nancy wanted to teach her this. She still often braids her hair like this.”

“Then the next photo is of when Eddie, Robin and Steve came to visit us, which is Gathering of High Conversation,” Jonathan says.

In the photo everyone is sprawled around the coffee table and on the couch, smoke hanging in the air, the ashtray filled. Steve is sitting in front of the couch, between Eddie’s legs. He is leaning over Steve and shotgunning into his mouth, hair obscuring the view. Next to Eddie is Nancy leaning over to tap some of the ash into the tray and looking mischievously up into the camera. The spot beside Nancy is empty, Jonathan having sat there seconds before. On the ground by the coffee table is Robin, gesturing with her hands, a joint very close to lighting Argyle on fire, who is sitting with his back to the camera, engaged in a conversation with Robin.

“When they came over we entertained ourselves a little differently than arguing about AV club or pineapple on pizza or braiding hair,” Jonathan says a little sheepishly. “To be fair, we all had pretty stressful lives and this is a good way to let go.”

“Steve is a horny high person and Eddie has no trouble enabling him, but we never really minded that much,” Jonathan continues. “At this point the two were sharing a one bedroom trailer with Wayne and had a group of shitheads banging at their door whenever to demand money for the arcade or rides. They deserved to let go a little.”

“Robin and Argyle are more people to get philosophical when high,” Jonathan points out. “At the time I was too high to notice, but I’m glad Argyle’s hair wasn’t set on fire here.”

“Same, baby boy,” Argyle comments. “I like my hair.”

“Me too,” Jonathan replies, smiling sappily at the point next to the camera where Argyle is. “You look very pretty.”

“Why thank you, buttercup,” Argyle smiles.

Jonathan focuses back on what he was doing after a brief smile in return. He says: “I love how dynamic the photo is with all the movement, like with Nancy leaning over, Robin gesturing and Eddie’s hair falling down. And it has chill vibes overall. Just normal college aged stuff.”

“Nancy leaning over and looking at me is also important. I talked about it in the video about The Missing Piece series. What I like is that it includes me in the moment and making my photography also part of the scene. Of our daily life,” Jonathan explains.

“We’ll link that video, right?” Argyle speaks up.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll link it. Good thinking, thank you,” Jonathan agrees.

Then Jonathan moves on to the next one: “Of course with smoking, you have the morning after, which is what this last one is called.”

Morning Afters is of the guest room that used to be Nancy’s room. In it are Eddie, Robin and Steve. Robin is spooning Steve from behind, the two of them cocooned in the blanket. Steve’s head is resting on Eddie’s thigh, while Eddie has one hand buried in his hair. Eddie himself is sitting upright, he is shirtless and smoking a cigarette, smirking to the camera.

“I love this photo. I love the casual intimacy of it, of the platonic and romantic mixing and blurring and just how comfortable they look,” Jonathan says.

“This photo was to show the three of them as they are. They are by many deemed too comfortable with each other, but that’s just how they are, how they feel comfortable. I love giving insights into how they relate, because it’s queer no matter how you twist it. Even a friendship can fall outside the norm,” Jonathan explains.

After that he flips the page and says: “Next page is about us visiting home after moving out, starting with Love Painted.”

The photo that appears on screen is of Will proudly showing a portrait he painted of Mike. It is highly detailed and many hours went into the work, that much is clear.

“Will is an amazing artist, you all know that of course, museums even acknowledge it, but he is. He always has been,” Jonathan says. “One thing he’s been great at, always has been, is experimenting and expanding. He’ll always draw scenes, I think, that’s his passion, but he did a lot of other things too, which he learned a lot from. This was in his portrait phase.”

“Of course,” Jonathan gestures to the photo, “his first subject was Mike. He spend hours pouring over this work and forced Mike to pose for him. I think there is so much love in that. From both of them.”

“This photo was meant to show that love. The love of Will for Mike that he would pour hours into painting him as well as the love of Mike, who spend those hours posing for Will, so he could further his craft. And just so that they could spend time together,” Jonathan says.

“It could just be a photo that shows Will being proud of his work – which it is as well – but that layer of love in built in and part of the story too,” Jonathan explains.

“The next photo is The Girl with the Braids, which ties back to the earlier photo Braiding Lesson,” Jonathan says.

The Girl with the Braids is of El, showing off two braids in her hair, they look like the kind Nancy taught her how to braid. The smile on her face is blinding.

“I talked about it before that hair is really important to Jane, so this is a meaningful moment of pride,” Jonathan says. “Her hair had gotten long enough for the pretty braids. This is not known to most readers, but those that know her, know how important this moment is.”

He smiles fondly and adds: “I remember coming home when taking this one. She came running out of the house, yelling for Nance to show her the braids, this big grin on her face. God, she was so happy, I just had to photograph it.”

Jonathan continues to smile down at the page for a beat longer, before he moves to the next one: “Okay, then we have Acceptance.”

That photo is of Joyce and Hopper. Joyce is on a ladder with a hammer and some nails, Hopper is holding it. Together they’re hanging up a rainbow flag on the wall.

“For me, it was important to include my mom and dad, even if they’re both straight, because they were so accepting. They’re not a big part of the book, but when they’re in here, they’re in here for a reason,” he says. “They were hanging up this flag because Steve got kicked out and they wanted him to know this was a safe space for him, which is very sweet. We had that flag ever since I came out, but we never really used it as décor until then. They still have it up today.”

“I also talked about it with Robin and Rose when we talked about their wedding, but showing that there were also accepting parents out there shows that the homophobes weren’t products of their time. Other people of that time knew better. They should too,” Jonathan rants.

After taking a calming breath, he says: “Anyway, I love my mom and dad, shout out to them for being great and making me feel safe, despite it all. Supporting parents can be very important and I feel very lucky.”

“My actual father, whom I’m not going to say much more about, wasn’t like that. Me and Will grew up scared due to the man. I know what both feel like and I’m much more grateful to have the latter and I wouldn’t wish an unaccepting parent onto anyone,” Jonathan says.

“But enough about that,” he moves on. “Let’s see what’s next. Ah, yeah, Corroded Coffin Live at the Hideout, I talked about that in my first video about the Corroded Coffin photos that are in the book, so you can hear more about that and the band there.”

“Babe, remind them you’ll link it in the description,” Argyle tells him when Jonathan forgets that again.

“Ah, yeah, thank you,” Jonathan nods with a smile. “There will be a link in the description.”

He looks back to the book and says: “The last one I’m gonna talk about today is Making Friendship Bracelets.”

That photo is of Robin and Steve, they’re seated on the porch of the Munson trailer, both bend over and fiddling with something. Robin is wearing a pair of Steve’s gym shorts and a sports bra, as well as chunky chain necklaces and rings. Steve is in a shirt on which is painted ‘Queer & Here’ in choppy letters, he is also in a pair of gym shorts.

“I love this photo,” Jonathan says. “I think I say that about every photo, but I do. It has that late spring, early summer vibe. It’s almost a little childish, innocent or playful. Reminds you of summer camp, you know. Steve and Robin might have met at the end of high school, but their vibes are that of childhood friends, which this shows.”

“The callback to childhood is also nice, because it reflects healing in a way. It’s going back to that time when it was all simpler and you weren’t worried about being outed or behaving wrong. When you could just have careless fun,” Jonathan explains. “This photo gives me those vibes.”

“Their friendship also has come up many times both in the book and these videos, but it’s kind of unavoidable when they’re in a photo together. It’s always present,” Jonathan says fondly.

“Anyway, the point is, they’re making friendship bracelets. They were chunky and ugly as all hell, but they both wore them until they broke and then made new ones. It’s like a little ritual for them. They still have one today, I think it’s version five by now. They’re very careful with them,” he tells the camera.

“Another thing I want to point out is the shirt Steve is wearing,” Jonathan continues. “That shirt was actually made by Wayne in the ‘69 when the riots were happening all over the country after Stonewall. He was never in New York itself, but he was out here in that shirt. It got adopted by Eddie and then stolen by Steve. I love that family connection line between them.”

“These pages overall were lovely to pick out. We wanted to show how the others were growing and changing after we left town compared to our lives that were changing in Boston,” Jonathan explains. “And how we were all still connected, just like now. Scattered but not apart.”

“There is of course the tragic with Steve getting kicked out, but it focuses on all the positives. On the relationships that were going well, Jane’s hair, the band performing, Steve finding a new home with Eddie and Wayne, Robin still by his side. All the good things.”

He smiles a little bit sappily, before he clears his throat and signs off: “So, uhm, that was the behind the scenes of life when we just moved to Boston. I hope it made sense and that it was interesting. Bye!”

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digital-corruption · 2 years

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I am so done with this chapter! 😩 It's taken me a week to write it.

Unrecognisable Part 37

The clothing store ended up being a much larger outlet store than I had expected. Having clothes for all genders, it was also broken up into separate areas for different themes. At the front was the more generic punk clothing ranges, but at the back was more specialised ranges for different themes, including cyberpunk and steampunk. In the middle there were comprehensive footwear, cosmetic and accessory displays. I walked around in complete awe and could have easily spent days there exploring it all. Jake however was not as amused, especially as we weren’t the only customers in the store. There was one female employee. She was wearing black cybergoth clothes with heavy makeup and bright neon green cyberlox hair falls. She was giving advice to a group of young female customers. Then there was a couple checking out the queer ranges. No one paid us much attention despite Jake acting very nervously.

“I’m not wearing a top hat,” Jake mumbled, giving the steampunk section a sideways glance.

“No? I bet you’d look great in one,” I teased as I checked out some of the cybergoth racks.

“If you want us to go outside the stereotype, I’m just not sure cyberpunk will do,” he commented quietly.

I picked up a gas mask and held it up to my face, “Perhaps, but all of our photos have us dressed plain clothes. Going full out would not be expected. And look, it’s multi-purpose! Hides my identity and keeps me protected in case of smoke grenades!”

“That mask won’t protect you against anything and you know it,” he frowned as he reached for the switch on the side, turning on the LEDs lights. “It’s just a gimmick.”

“Ok fine, but it would still look mightily intimidating,” I smiled. “Like you don’t want to fuck with me.”

He raised an eyebrow, “So now we’re trying to scare anyone that looks at us?”

“If they feel too uncomfortable even looking in our direction then they’re unlikely to realise it’s us, right?” I shrugged as I spotted a different mask. “Hey look, there’s even a muzzle for you!”

I held up a black leather mask with a metal grill to Jake’s face. He snapped his jaw at me behind the mask, which made my heart skip a beat.

“All you need a collar and leash and he’s perfect,” a voice distracted me. I glanced over and realised the employee had come over to check on us. “Did you need any help finding anything?”

“Um, no, we’re good,” I blushed. “This store is amazing though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much range before.”

“Danke, we try,” she smiled. She looked around and lowered her voice, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but you’re the ones from the news, aren��t you?”

Jake noticeably shifted defensively, “Put it down, we’re going.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” she defended. “It’s just- you’re kind of famous in the community right now. Shit, what you two did at the prison, that was fucking amazing!”

“Thanks, I think,” I said uncomfortably.

“MC, now,” Jake grumbled.

“No, no, I mean it, you’re safe here!” the employee pushed. “No one’s going to rat you out. Just, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“That’s quite a sales pitch,” Jake sneered. “She’s just trying to delay us. MC, let’s go.”

“Why the hell would I come up and tell you I recognise you if I was trying to keep you from leaving?” she questioned.

“She has a point,” I admitted. Jake was still not convinced.

“But if I can be honest, you need better disguises if you don't want to be recognised,” she laughed.

“That’s kind of why we’re here,” I shrugged. "We need new clothes."

“Hmm, first you need to lose this,” she gestured to my wig. “But if you’re looking for a complete makeover, then speak no further! I’d be happy to give you the full work. Even this one wouldn’t be able to recognise you!”

“Really? You’d do that?” I asked.

“Yeah, I do it all the time, especially before a big rave. Speaking of, are you going tonight? Ha, they’d all lose their shit if they knew you were going,” she humoured.

“Going? Oh, is there a rave tonight?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s going to be lit!” she beamed.

“Sort of defeats the purpose of a new appearance if we then flaunt our identity to hundreds,” Jake rolled his eyes.

“Hmm, that’s true,” she admitted. “Well, I won’t tell.”

“It would give us a good cover,” I thought out loud.

“You can’t be serious,” Jake turned back to me and frowned.

“You’re the one who said it’s easier to hide in a crowd. Think about it, if we’re dressed for the occasion, no one will look at us twice. We could go and have some fun,” I debated.

“Until it gets raided by the cops,” he argued.

“Yeah, and you’d be amongst hundreds of others running,” the employee laughed. "Cops would have fuck all chance of catching you."

“Again, she has a point,” I shrugged.

Jake shook his head, “All it takes is one idiot posting a selfie with us in the background and suddenly our pursuers are swarming the venue!”

“Hey, there will be a large group of Antifa present. They won’t hesitate to step in,” she said with a hushed voice.

“That’s what I am afraid of. It’ll be a massacre,” Jake sighed.

“We’ll think about it,” I assured the employee. “About that makeover though, would you be able to do something with him too?”

“I am sure I can work something out,” she smiled. “As long as he doesn’t bite my head off in the process.”

“Would you believe he’s actually a big softie?” I teased.

Jake frowned at me, unimpressed that I gave up his secret.

“Ok, well let’s work on you first,” the employee insisted. “Oh and my name is Zoe. I always forget to introduce myself.”

Zoe took me around to the counter to show me the trends in her look book. After choosing a couple of punk outfits and styles that we thought would work well for me, I went into the dressing room to try them on. Jake meanwhile found a chair in the corner of the store and waited. Whenever I stepped out to show him the clothes, he shrugged and didn’t really say anything. I rolled my eyes and came to realise I was on my own for this decision. Once I decided on one set of clothes, I rejoined Zoe to work on my makeup. She had found a long, bright pink wig with soft curled pigtails. Putting the gas mask from earlier on, I checked myself out in the mirror and didn’t even recognise the person looking back at me.

“Awesome!” I exclaimed.

“I know right? You look nothing like your photo now,” Zoe said confidently.

I glanced over at Jake, who looked at me blankly, “What?”

“It’s good. You won’t be recognised,” he said plainly.

“You don’t like it,” I frowned.

“It’s a disguise. It serves its purpose,” he responded.

“So what do you want me to do with him?” Zoe asked apprehensively.

“Well he needs to look like a typical male raver, but nothing that would get in way of free movement and maybe no makeup,” I thought out loud. “And maybe let’s not mess with his hair too much.”

“I thought you wanted him disguised too,” Zoe turned back to me in confusion.

“We can get by with just a face mask for him,” I reasoned. “He’s obviously not getting into the spirit of things.”

“If you say so. I’ll go pick out some things for you,” Zoe left us for a few minutes.

“What’s your problem?” I shook my head.

“There’s no problem. It’s just not you,” Jake answered vaguely.

“That’s kind of the point,” I said confused.

“What do you want me to say, MC?” he asked defensively.

“Why you’re acting weird,” I pushed.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, “I am just not sure you’re taking this seriously. It feels like you’re just playing. Are you serious about going to the rave?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“MC, remember what happened on the train,” he narrowed his eyes “Only instead of a crowd of scared civilians, there’s hundreds of intoxicated, adrenaline fuelled idiots that think they stand a chance against heavily armed, trigger-happy government agents. It would be much, much worse. It would be a bloodbath.”

I sighed, there was no denying he was right. Part of me was still tempted to be irresponsible. It wasn’t worth risking the lives of others over though.

“MC, why do you want to go anyway? It’s just going to be hot, crowded, loud, and full of drugs and alcohol,” he frowned.

“I thought it would be fun to do something different,” I explained. “To distract ourselves for a little while.”

“We can do hot, loud, drugs and alcohol in the safety of a secluded location,” he said intensely. “I know you feel disconnected with the rest of the world right now, but this isn’t the time to get careless. We need to focus on finding somewhere to hide.”

“Yes, I know,” I conceded while looking around the store.

Jake was quiet for a moment, then spoke up again, “We could use the location of the rave as cover though. If we headed in that direction tonight, it would be harder to track us.”

“So we’re going to the rave?” I turned back to him confused.

“No, but I take it the rave is an abandoned building somewhere unpopulated. There’s bound to be other abandoned buildings nearby,” he explained. “We could use this knowledge and cover to our advantage.”

“So we’re going-ish,” I joked.

Jake narrowed his eyes, “You still want to go?”

“Well if we’re going to be in the neighourhood anyway, we could swing by,” I mused.

“No, MC. One slip-up could have so many terrible consequences!” Jake tried to keep his voice hushed.

“Come on, Jake, you’re being paranoid. It would be only a couple of hours! No one would even notice we were there,” I argued.

“Does this really mean that much to you? This event you didn’t even know about before we walked in here?” he pressured.

“An opportunity to live a bit normally again? Yes,” I nodded.

“Since when did you go to raves?” he frowned.

“Aha, there’s things Jake doesn’t know about me,” I declared happily. “I haven’t been to one in a long time, but does it really surprise you that much?”

“I suppose I do have more things to learn about you,” he smiled, but it was brief. His expression immediately turned sour again, “Please don't make me regret this. The lives of all those we affect negatively with our selfish decisions weigh heavy."

"I sense a story," I commented.

"I am looking at her," he responded simply.

“You haven’t affected my life negatively,” I said taken aback.

“Haven’t I? You’re desperate to do something that feels ‘normal’. That sounds pretty negative to me,” he sighed.

“Hang on, you think I’m not happy? I never said that Jake. I just want to take a breather with you to live a little lighter, a little freer,” I argued.

“I didn’t know living the past few days in the penthouse has been that hard on you,” he pointed out.

“It was nice, yes,” I whispered. “But we were squatting. It’s not like there wasn’t the impending sense of dread of being caught the entire time we were there.”

He shook his head, “Let me do the worrying. I have more experience on the matter.”

“Excuse me? Are you telling me not to think? Because that’s what it sounds like to me. I’m not your fucking bimbo, Jake,” I glared.

“I never said you were,” he acted offended. “Hang on, you think I think of you that way?”

“I don’t know,” I folded my arms. “You sure as fuck make it sound like it.”

At that point Zoe returned with a few sets of clothes for Jake to try on, "Sorry to keep you waiting. Here's a few popular items that I think you'll like."

"Thank you," Jake muttered and grabbed the hangers from Zoe. He then disappeared into the dressing room.

"I'll just help these other guys while he tries them on. Let me know if you need anything," Zoe said to me.

"Thank you," I nodded as she walked away.

After a few minutes, the door to the dressing room slowly opened halfway. Jake was in the first outfit, but looked out of place. I walked up to the door to see what was wrong, when he grabbed my arm, pulled me into the room and shut the door behind me. He pressed me against the mirror, his face inches away from mine.

"You’re not a bimbo," he mumbled. "You’re so much more to me than someone to have sex with."

"Then you have to share the stress of everything with me," I said firmly. "And uh, exactly what was your plan for proving your case to me?"

Jake laughed, "I don't know. I have this need to kiss the uncertainty out of you, but I'm not sure that would be beneficial to my cause. I just know I hate arguing with you."

"Me too," I smiled.

"Now be honest, I look like an asshat," Jake stood back so I could get a better look.

I couldn’t help but giggle at his take of the outfit, "If you don’t like it, try the next one."

"Ok, but I am not sure it will be much better," he shrugged.

Jake took off his shirt in front of me and then his pants without any hesitation, then quickly chucked on the next set of clothes. Though it had straps and chains Jake couldn’t comprehend the purpose of, the t-shirt and loose black pants fit him rather well. Zoe had added in some accessories to try as well. I went through it one by one, helping Jake put it on. First there were studded, leather arm bands, then fingerless gloves, then white and black goggles to wear over his head.

“MC, these goggles do nothing,” Jake complained.

“But they look cool and that’s what matters,” I laughed.

Then I noticed Zoe had snuck in the muzzle along with a simple black collar and leash. I bit my lip as I made Jake put them on.

“Is it really necessary?” he raised his eyebrow.

I grabbed the leash and pulled his face close to mine, “Yes.”

He smirked, “If you say so.”

I tugged his leash to turn him to look at the mirror, “See? Your face is pretty obscured even if we don’t put any makeup on you or a wig.”

I could hear him sucking his teeth under the muzzle, “All I see is that pink wig.”

“Ok, that’s it, what’s wrong with this outfit? Hmm? What happened to ‘You look hot in anything you wear’?” I frowned.

“You still look hot,” he clarified. “It just reminds me of some not-so-good people. I don’t like you dressing like them. You’re so much better than them.”

“Well I am not them. These are just clothes, right? Clothes don’t make a person,” I pointed out.

“You’re right. I don’t know what got into me,” he shook his head. “But you are doing that annoying, standing out thing again.”

I laughed, “I am sorry, I will try to stand out less.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “I don’t want you to have the attention of an entire rave. Otherwise, I will have to spend the entire time fending off scumbags trying to roofy you.”

“Really?” I questioned in disbelief.

“I wish I was joking,” he sighed. “We probably have spent long enough in this dressing room.”

I looked around playfully, “I was just getting used to this place. It’s quite cosy.”

“If you want to go tonight, we need to scout out a place to stay,” he reminded me.

“Ok, ok, let’s pay for everything and get out of here,” I let go of the leash.

“I hope your plan works,” said Jake as he grabbed his clothes to pack away.

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