#these people have made me miserable my entire life and im sick of it

[semiotomatics]

brb disowning my entire family

[gingerlee-holds]

okay so this is gonna be something different lmao- my beloved @lionkid gave me an idea when i was visiting her and i wanted to make this for her-! its not a tword fic, but hopefully it'll become a good story if i keep at it- its the first chapter, and please let me know what you think!! i cant wait to build on it more heehee

also im sorry its kinda short lmao

the title for this story is Trains out of Tranton! enjoy <3

Chapter 1: Home

Words: 630 Warnings: Post-Apocalypse setting

It all happened so fast. I suppose it's easier to see the danger of a situation afterward when you have all the facts, and to us, it feels like the world that came before was a house of cards just begging to be toppled over. Frankly, it's a miracle that humankind lasted into the 20th Century. The scholar says the current year is 1996; we must take his word for it.

I am Jack Flynn, born to Samuel and Laurie in a world bereft of hope. The collapse of civilization was their childhood, a time of empty stomachs, and they were robbed of their American Dream. Samuel's tribe crossed paths with Laurie's in the ruins of Seattle during the most brutal blizzard in living memory, and my father chose to leave his people and join hers. Two decades ago, I came into this world one year after he made that choice, and with her final breath, my mother named me and promised me warmth.

Samuel Flynn, a natural leader, led our people from the old home in Seattle where wild dogs roam with foaming mouths and monstrous beasts proclaim themselves men. He brought us south from the bitter cold, and we found our new home in Tranton. Before the collapse, Tranton was a mere trainyard, but it took on a new role among the sick, hungry, and miserable survivors of my tribe. I was still in swaddling cloth then, not nearly old enough to form a memory of life before Tranton nor a perception of where elsewhere is. 

The world I know is far smaller than my father's. Tranton is barely three square miles in area, filled with thousands of people desperate for a place to sleep. The rails rust under torrential rain, springing forth moss and weeds between the tracks. Aspen saplings shot from the soil below in a mad frenzy, and the tallest of them stooped over our homes like giants. The boxcars of the old world make for tremendous homes for a tribe of hungry refugees, and the cars harbored two families each. Most importantly, though, those cars that could not be utilized for storage or transportation around the settlement were heaved onto their sides and became the walls upon which our soldiers stood watch against the horrors beyond.

From what our patrols inform us, every can of food for miles around has been eaten or destroyed by the elements. As such, Tranton must import their food from outside, and every week, a mule hauls a freight car into town, the shriek of ungreased axles announcing its arrival. The farms are among the few places unscathed by the collapse, and in return for the goods we can scavenge from the neighboring cities, they share with us their harvests. Well, that's not entirely true - those of us who can't scavenge become tinkerers, forming scrap metal into tools for survival and weapons against marauders. The turbines we've fashioned turn a fierce squall into a warm meal and a well-lit courtyard for my father to speak to our people from. Our home is at the edge of this courtyard, a diesel locomotive too old to turn its wheels but with a commanding presence over the surrounding cars. The roaring hearth I warmed my hands against was the firebox, and it was my father's responsibility to blow the train's whistle at sunrise each morning.

This whistle, choked with age, was what I awoke to every day for as long as I can recall. This whistle was normalcy, home. The whistle was the assurance that humankind had not yet died. The whistle promised that things were alright now and nothing needed changing. I hated that whistle; more than that, I hated the man who blew it.

[munamania]

oh my god you know what i AM so glad im not attracted to men thank god im sick and tired holy shit. this was going to just be a stupid reactionary post on my silly little tumblr blog bc ive seen stupid posts like ':( maybe in another life i like men' and like we are NEVER getting out of here! and now i need to be like oh oop hangon everyone i for sure dont mean every man and also by the way i promise i am not trans exclusionary and also i really do promise i can wrap my brain around intersectionality in case you got a wild sense of ignorance from me saying im SICK AND FUCKING TIRED of everything being about men. you cant not think about them. ever. girls around you are going to base their entire personalities and identities and sense of self around attention and attraction to men and youre going to be made to feel rude if you dont go along with that being so #slay #girlboss #feminism. and honestly if we're fucking talking about it maybe i am glad not to deal with people who are socialized to think it's gay to care about hygiene and so dont wipe their asses or wash their hands maybe im simply so relieved to not have to deal with that and to have a partner that doesnt have to be taught to like and care about me and/or babied and mothered etc. jesus fucking christ holy shit. i want that for every woman but this is abt me rn and really many people whether they realize it or not ARE hostile to dykes!!!!!! and it sucks so incredibly hard to be around you!!!!! you people dont make a single effort to not talk about men or center every conversation around them, at best, and at worst, youre constantly fucking making lesbianism sound MISERABLE. it's not! it's really not. except well it is because everybody just cannot fucking exist without making it about a man or how they feel about not liking men or whatever goddamn tragedy idefk. this is clearly going to be nonsensical by the time i post it but holy fuck! shut the fuck up! the state of feminism rn is in genuine shambles ashes dust in the wind never coming back to save us.

[intertexts]

SHAKING U BY THE SHOULDERS. TELL ME ABOUT UR P5 HEART PLAYERS YOU KNOW I LOVE THOSE !!!!!!

HHHSDFHBGHDFG HDFHGDHBBBBJFGJ <- BEING SHAKEN NOISES.

OK. ok. my p5r heart players... god. so there r three of them & they all are character foiling each other & all mirroring each other in like, notably similar ways. (a LOT of the character work in p5 IS based around like,,, characters mirroring each other, their trauma echoing or having common roots, similar issues, etc. but these three + another guy r all specifically parallel 2 me.) heart as an aspect is all about... identity, right? who you are + who you pretend to be + the tension btwn those, & also yr relationships + how u interact with others... (which is SUPER fucking p5 coded in general-- like... the entire crux of the game is 50% identity shit + 50% the way u form bonds with others changes ur life)

anyway the one i'm thinking about most rn is called kasumi yoshizawa! she is a very nice cute pleasant high school freshman who's very good at gymnastics & wants to pursue it professionally, and she's dedicated her art to her dead younger sister, sumire, who unfortunately passed in an accident about a year ago and who she really misses...

... except it turns out that she's actually her dead sister :) she's sumire, and she was... brainwashed? by the antagonist of the arc into believing that she's kasumi-- because the antagonist really just wants the world to be a kinder, better place; he wants everyone's wishes to come true :) and sumire's wish is that she (inadvertently responsible for her sister's death)'s more like her sister, because her sister was perfect and amazing and better than her in every way. which is fucking horrifying-- everyone else just,,, knew she was sumire, but she just. Went around the world dressing in her dead sister's clothes and fixing her hair like her dead sister and using her same mannerisms and believing she was her!!! for a year! genuinely a nightmare scenario. do you think she slept in her dead sister's bedroom. do u think it made her parents sick. anyway her conflict between "i literally NEED to be anyone else i CANNOT be myself i cannot live in my own fucking skin i can't do it vs. what. should i just live out a lie? keep living in her dead skin?? drag her corpse around after me because i'm too selfish to let her rest?" insane to me. good lord.

the next guy, goro akechi (MY LITTLE GUY!!!!!!!!!! THE ONE IM BONKERS ABOUT!!!) is ALSO a nice pleasant boy hes also very charming and such :) he's a famous cute celebrity also!! hes super popular as a genius cute boy detective >:3c he. ummm. god. where do i even begin. well. he's also clinging to ghosts & dead bodies & such. he spent his formative years entirely alone and being bounced around the system. he literally fucking genuinely like no shit has a god out there making his life as fucking miserable as possible. like im being dead serious here theres a whole ass god up there making his life the worst it could be. so. well. he's so fucking desperate (like, sickeningly desperate. the kind that's really kind of offputting like you know that's not gonna get you anywhere man.) to be loved or even appreciated he becomes a mass murderer about it. his seven year plan is

-kill my dad

-fake my whole personality so im lovable because theres no way thats happening otherwise

-fuck it we ball.

guy with the most fragile and convincing veneer of pleasant charm possible and under it is this seething morass of hatred and shame and jealousy and anger. anyway he's a heart player because 1. he's a 1 for 1 foil of akira (the next heart player) & 2. because his whole. Deal is being insanely fucking conflicted about himself. he genuinely believes in justice and like. Morality and such, he always keeps his deals and repays his debts. and he's often just a vicious bitch & also a hitman working for one of the worst people on the planet! i'm not explaining it very well but he mirrors sumire so heavily in like... conflict btwn his self + who he wants to be + how he's perceived + what he Wants + what he thinks he wants + the way he interacts with the world... aughghghhhh. their partitioning off of Different Selves for different things is very. well. & they both also heavily parallel each other re: being VERY different than they appear to be initially & being so hard 2 Know. etc.

speaking of partitioning off different selves-- the third guy!!! akira kurusu!! the protag of the game!!!!!! his whole DEAL is that he has a hundred different masks he sifts through & wears for every different occasion, he's a different guy to his friends & his mentor figures & his enemies & the world in general!!!! not that any of them are Fake, just that they are... not the whole thing, you know. absolutely key to his character also is that he's Very sharp and observent when it comes to dynamics btwn people & very good at making connections btwn people (he could Also be a blood player. but like... he Literally Steals Hearts. it feels too on the nose to pass up.) anyway. auugjfjfjfgghkbgh they r all SO DEAR 2 me they r all such good characters.... all of them have such an interesting dynamic together!! three massive liars with insane relationships to selfhood. etc.

[destinygoldenstar]

TW: This video has a nude image. This is one of the most unapologetically real films I’ve ever watched. And this is easily the scene that spoke to me the most. I too have Asperger’s syndrome. I was diagnosed when I was thirteen after a sensory overload in school that got me in trouble. I was lucky to have parents love me and support me and take the time to understand me. But I had nothing short of a miserable school life, where I was not only pressured and stressed to tears, but I was heavily bullied and abused for my condition. It wasn’t just kids finding it funny when I was miserable, or finding me stupid for not understanding a joke, or pretending to be my friend to solidify that I was lesser than the people around me. It was also adults letting me know just how wrong and broken I was, screaming at me for having questions, denying to help me, punishing me for not doing something fast enough, or even punishing me for looking at something weird. And when quarantine started and I attempted to break free from my horrible school life, I was grounded for an entire season, and my mom told me that the problem was always me for not being able to do what normal kids could do. I grew very hostile towards my peers as a result of betrayals and abuse, finding solitude in being a part of nothing for the longest time, and if you knew me back then, you’d know me as an odd kid who paced around for no reason, didn’t need glasses but wore them anyway, and was sarcastic, snarky, and hot tempered to be unpleasant to be around. If you knew me back then, you would hate me. I didn’t gain friends until my senior year in high school.

Im one of those autistic people who don’t struggle too much with showing their emotions. For a long time, I had to bottle up my anxiety attacks because whenever I had them, people found it funny or punished me for having them. My guidance lessons were ‘don’t be angry’ ‘don’t be anxious’ ‘just ignore it all’. And I tried to cry at night, alone, hoping no one noticed. Sometimes they didn’t. And around my sophomore year I got heavily sick from it, seemingly for dumb reasons, I felt like I was the problem and was a garbage human being. I had moved away from that abusive environment and taken to a much more comforting state and home life, and I felt like I didn’t deserve any of it because ‘I was a problem’. It was only then that my mom understood and got me the help I needed. And then in my final year of school, I could begin a healing process. I could find much more positive ways to fit into society and see the benefits in myself. Like my writing, and my skills in the theater. I excelled at stuff like that in ways other people didn’t. My habit of need for constant movement really helped my health physically, and I could be a runner if I wanted to.

I have a partner in my life now and we’ve been dating for over two years now. She was autistic, like me. It actually started out as a childhood friendship nearly eight years before we fell in love. Talk about slow burn. She moved away to another country, but we made a promise to never lose contact. And we never did. She became my own Mary over the time we were apart. Our communication was about stuff we found enjoyment in, like our own writing, or media we liked, and the people around us never understood it, found it ‘not chemistry’. We grew to ignore them because it made us happy and that’s all that mattered. She was there for me in my lowest points, and I was there for hers. She’s chronically ill. She was hospitalized just a year after our separation, and only now is she starting to recover and get better. Back then it just got worse and worse for her and she became depressed to suicidal thoughts. She claimed I was the one who saved her life. Then a year before we would finally see each other again, I noticed her feeling more for me. But I didn’t let it surface because I didn’t know how I felt at the time. I was always someone who very openly rejected love with no hesitation, and it was one of the things I was bullied for. Then half a year before we would see each other again, she accidentally told me she was in love with me. So I guess she confessed first?? Or, I was the first one to do it on purpose, because I called it out, and returned it. And so I begged my family to move down the country, where she was, to see her again, and we did. And that vacation was where we had our first kiss. After I had come out to my parents for being an asexual lesbian, (I didn’t realize the asexual part until I was in my senior year where someone pointed it out.) we officially moved a few months later, and we could proceed with a healing process and a happier life. And not only for me, but for her, as now she is beginning to heal from her many illnesses and form a healthier lifestyle since we got together.

A life where I could see the positives in myself and see that my Asperger’s was never the problem, it was how people treated me. I was not lesser then. People might not understand me, but how I communicated and what I felt was valid. And I could do great things with that I could do.

So when people say your functioning of your brain is wrong or less than an average person,

“I do not like it when they say that. I do not feel disabled, defective, or a need to be cured. I like being an aspie. It would be like trying to change the color of my eyes.”

Please, watch Mary & Max. This movie is so uncomfortably real, especially for people like us. It’s not an easy watch, but I feel like it’s a necessary watch. I wish I saw this movie sooner than I did, when I needed it the most.

[iraliira]

Life update

22/08/23

This past week has been better because my life is starting to fall back into place. Although its going slowly, its comforting to know that im doing better both mentally and physically.

This week i managed to prove to myself that im capable of fufilling my own promises to myself and im becoming better at self discipline. And the more i do it, the more i feel confident about myself. Real confidence. Because before i had fake confidence and by fake i mean i made myself believe i was confident but in reality i was lying to myself so that i dont have to face my own miserable reality.

Here are the things that im doing:

1. I began to workout, its been difficult at first and im not doing it concistently but its a start and i am trying my best. So far i managed to complete a whole workout which was a great accomplishment and i was proud of myself.

2. I decided to practice fasting. Im following a pattern where i eat for 12 hours and fast for 36 hours. I am following this pattern in order to get my measurements down to about 34-23/22-35. And so far i managed to complete a 36 hour fast and whilst i was fasting i realised that i dont get hungry easily and its just that i eat out of boredom.

Fasting has a lot of benefits and this is a short-term diet since i am not fat and just out of shape and during my 12 hour eating pattern i can eat anything i want. I DON’T HAVE AN EATING DISORDER and im also fasting for the other benefits such as: autophagy, cognitive performance and other amazing benefits. And i have fasted before so i know what im doing. If you want to learn more watch this video.

3. I decided to read a book a week. For a number of reasons: i want to spend less time on social media, i want to increase my knowledge, i want to widen my vocabulary, i want to speak properly because even though english is my first language, i cant speak because i keep tripping over my words and mid sentance my brain goes blank.

Other things that ive been doing:

im watching my comfort show One Tree Hill and im soo close to finishing the show which is making me sad because i dont want to finish it. The show is my absolute favourite thing in the entire world. The characters in the show are relatable in a lot of ways and this show taught me that being a teenager can be confusing but its also fun because im learning and going through a lot of change

Also the cast are soo fine

I mean…

Lucas scott (chad micheal murray) is soo fine

Anyways, back in June, i did my GCSES which if you don’t know is some standerdised exam every 15-16 year old does in the uk, and i get my results this week Thursday. And im not nervous about the actual exam results, im more worried about meeting everyone at school again and seeing my “friends” again. Which im planning on cutting them off and im really really scared about it because i hate confrontation. But im going to do it for myself and i dont want to live a lie anymore. Its exhausting. So im going to say to them that i dont want to be friends with them anymore.

I personaly am sick and tired of letting other people around me dictating my life and controlling the type of person i should be because thats my job. All my life ive been trying to please everyone and not myself. I also am a shy person (according to literally everyone around me) but i believe that im not and im sick of being “quiet” and “introverted” like i cant even set boundries or stand up for myself. WHICH IS SOOO PATHETIC. So that has to change because this type of behavior prevents me from achieving many things in my life.

And im not a little girl anymore and my parents arent always going to be with me so i need to grow up and act grown. I really hope i change and i believe that i can because this summer i went abroad for vacation and i spoke a lot of people so i can.

I really need to believe that im not who i used to be and if i want to have my desired futrure, i need to act like my desired self.

Well thats all i’ve been doing so far and im starting to like this new version of me.

Thank you, ira

[thatrandomventblog]

it just sucks so much. i want so badly to put my full weight on people but also im so scared ill hurt or break someone. knowing my dumbass i would and then id be miserable cuse hurting people isnt me. all i ever want to do it help thats all. sometimes it doesnt matter how as long as that person is feeling better. sometimes i feel like im drowing and the only way anything stops hurting is to soothe another whos hurting which never made any fucking sense to me but then again ive always been told ive been drawn to lost souls. maybe im meant to help others and nothing more. maybe im just not meant to really do anything important for the world. i want so badly to be a light for others so i joke and i help and i try and try and try. i get nowhere tho. and i dont know why. i never feel like i actually help someone and im constantly so fucking nervous of saying something wrong and hurting someone on accident and just fucking it up cuse its all ive done my whole life. fuck things up. my birth was a fuck up. i fucked up every day as a kid. i fuck up every day now. i never thought id make it to highschool but now im here. im here living when i thought id be dead. i keep changing myself to fit in better. so people will like me more. ive given up on reading, something ive done since i was ten constantly, reading books and getting lost in them. now i can barely pick one up. i just cant. last year i completely lost my motivation to get better in art. i failed so much. underage drinking led to parents mistrust. but it didnt matter that i was forced to it. i can vaugely recall that night and i keep thinking if it was my fault of theirs. the person who forced me. i guess it should be mine, considering as how im the one who eventually gave in. i cant eat fish anymore cuse the smell makes me think of times id rather forget. sometimes i doubt i could ever be with a girl sexually cuse of it. i keep trying so hard to let things fall into the past. it never seems to matter tho. one way or another they come back. they come back and i feel sick all over. memories of a vaccum getting thrown or of doors slamming haunt me. nothing i do shakes it. i feel like im drowing. i cant climb out of the hell hole im in. i think it should be that way. i do deserve it. im the fucking eldest how tf did i ever let myself be so fucking weak? but it dont matter anymore. im just kind of another dust in the wind. and i know. its always the same issue. but honestly? this household fucking sucks some days. and some days i wish that knife actually hit me. some days im thankful that at least i gotta meet the people i did. siblings keep telling me im lance mcclain irl, and that hits hard. i laugh my pain away until my chest feels compressed. i let just enough steam off so that i dont blow. just so that im not dying while smiling entirely. mom and dad ive tried talking to. it doesnt matter that im hallucinating anymore. it fucking hurts tho. i see things but not really. like its there in glimpses and sometimes there in wholes. but it doesnt matter. as of late im starting to think its a possibility that its ptsd triggered, but the thought of having ptsd makes me feel so fucking shitty. i shouldnt have it. at all. nothing ive been through has been enough (in my opinion) to actually make me have it. but i guess what i got is what i got. some days i feel like its an unfair hand. others i feel like its the hand i deserve. idk anymore.

[dumbbitchfrommars]

on another note (please let me distract myself from my pathetic past times) - MY PRESENTATION WENT REALLY WELL! well as well as i am capable of. i was reading from the cue cards the entire time but my script was good and so were my slides. i was shaking but my voice was steady, and my knees didn't buckle from the adrenaline-anxiety, so i think i did pretty fucking fantastic. for the others who are used to presenting and dont know the depths of my shame associated with a lifetime of crippling anxiety - its easy to critique my lack of connection with the audience. but in all honesty... IT IS SUCH A PRIVILEGE AND AN HONOUR TO RECEIVE SUCH CRITICISM. like, my presentation was substantial enough to even receive comments. and you understood what i said, and you listened to me, and it wasnt completely terrible, and i didnt have to watch myself so i survived. and i did it!!! it makes me cringe to imagine seeing myself up there not even glancing up at them for a second but sometimes you have to do what you can to get through difficult situations. i am so fucking proud of myself. like... i can hear my inner child jumping for joy. im actually fucking traumatised from the one time i tried to present in grade 7 and the dickhead class clown made fun of me for having badly made slides. in retrospect... he was criticising me because i was the teachers pet and was probably jealous of how smart i really was. and its easy to pick on someone whos already shy. but man did that fuck me up. and that shyness carried on into high school. i cant believe no one saw me and thought hm, she looks like shes struggling, maybe she needs counselling. maybe she needs help. maybe she deserves a little compassion. instead everyone took advantage of their power over the girl raised to be a people pleaser and subservient to authority. NOW LOOK AT ME YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! i wont listen to bullshit from anyone. not kim telling me oh, but makeup wont get paid as much as here, oh youll probably only get around $28 an hour. GUESS WHAT BITCH, I GET THE SAME EXACT RATES AS THIS SHITHOLE. and ill be even happier doing it. no more drunks, no more creeps, no more druggies, no more aggros, no more smelly homeless weirdos, and no more energy vampire coworkers.

fuck you scott for being less mature than me, someone probably less than half your age. i am the adult when youre around and it must make you so fucking insecure. anyway. i always get like this before the weekend when i am forced back into that hell hole place.... at least i dont have to deal with the annoying ones tomorrow. and fridays are usually more fun because there are more young people heading out for the night.

working in alcohol is just not appropriate, safe, fun, or nurturing for a beautiful 22 year old girl. sorry guys. i got to go. its not my fault my energy triggered you because youre old and afraid of change and settled for a shitty job just because it paid well. LIFE IS FOR LIVING NOT FOR MAKING MONEY.

on that note, i know its a privilege to up and leave a job simply because the "vibes werent right". its a privilege to say money doesnt matter to me. and its a privilege to choose a job based on my personal preference and not on survival. but its a privilege we all have, if youre willing to work hard enough. im sick of lowering my voice and downplaying my strengths and my achievements for fear of pissing people off, for triggering people, for bringing their insecurities to light. LET ME WIN IN PEACE FOR ONCE. smile for me for once. pretend to be happy for ME for once.

i hate fucking pretending its not that big of a deal when its secretly a huge deal for me. i have achieved so fucking much in the last year of my life. i finished an undergraduate bachelors degree, i got a new job and excelled in it, literally made all the customers prefer me over my longstanding coworkers who are miserable with the worst attitudes even towards me who is nothing but kind and friendly. i started and honours degree whilst working part time - and im excelling in that too. because i am hardworking as much as everyone wants to pretend im not, and that im not that capable, and that i need things to be explained to MAYBE YOU SHOULD FUCKING LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE. cause i clearly have a lot more going for me that you want to believe. i might only be 22 but i was raised to work hard and strive and always find something new and better to challenge me to work towards. anyway, i also went on a trip to europe this year . though it feels like ive already erased that from my memory, cause it didnt go the way i wanted it to. anyway. i know how to handle my finances, i am independent, i am strong, i push myself. i joined a gym after years of avoiding and bein afraid and not believing in myself enough to do it. I AM PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY STRONG AND GETTING STRONGER EVERY DAY. ugh . i just wish people could see that. i wish people appreciated that...

yes i was very sad to say i was leaving my job. but God instantly reminded me why i wanted to leave in the first place. why i decided to make that application, go to that interview, and pray for months on end that my time to leave would come soon. because no matter how much love and kindness i pour into that place, it will always take and never give. i am completely drained by it. i will break if i stay there. and i cannot fucking wait to leave and know that slowly but surely, every single one of the stupid, pathetic alcoholics that frequent that place will notice my absence and be disappointed that im gone. and they will wonder why, and they will realise and know, that the people there were so fucking terrible to me that i had no other choice but to find something better. that in their own little way, they contributed to me leaving.

even my manager. i already know im gonna miss him like crazy when i leave but its for the best. not only is this crush fucking relentless and so stupid, but hes not even that great, and he doesnt deserve my respect and adoration to this level. as cute and funny he is, he is just another white man. sigh

i didnt realise i had such a rant to get out... i think scott triggered me yesterday. the good thing is i dont really notice in the moment how much of a man child hes being, so he doesnt get the satisfaction of my irritation in person. but i wont forget that he dipped and i didnt get a break after being on my feet for 6 hours straight. fuck you, old man.

[orcelito]

Nothing like a work week with no days off & a boss that's terrible at communication to make you reaaaaally really really wanna punch something

:)

[choptop-sawyer]

Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

[xxbig-shotxx]

Is this wretched comic finally over?

THANK GOD FINALLY! It's me again if you haven't noticed, you think I'm some kind of clown preforming for you all? some kind of "Turkish Novella"? Funny because the ONLY clown here is the OP. Body pillows and anime figures, of course you're a anime freak. That explains your blatant misogyny throughout this whole ordeal you called a "fanfiction".

Now I admit okay, maybe I was wrong, maybe you didn't gender them for fetish reasons. However you CLEARLY gendered them because otherwise how could you have women to hate? Name ONE female character that isn't portrayed im a shitty and negative way in this entire fic, can't do it? BECAUSE THERE AREN'T ANY they're all horrible and for literally NO REASON! While the male characters get basically NO HATE or punishment by the fanfiction itself or it's readers when they're arguably worse than the females. You cultivated this anti woman culture around your work and it makes me sick that this is the ONLY reason you gendered them.

On top of that imagine getting someone else to write the meaning of your own God damn story. This just absolutely proves that you are a lazy hack, have no idea what you're doing and does not care about the topics you portray in your writing.

If you did care maybe women and mentally ill people wouldn't be demonized punchlines for you, maybe queer people wouldn't be fetish fodder to you.

SPEAKING OF WHICH you had an entire sex scene NO TAGS no warning and it was gross, unnecessary and uncomfortable, which isn't shocking for an anime fan. But do you know what the worst part is? You could've used that as a perfect opportunity to involve the intersex aspect and be inclusive and yet you made the choice to crack a cheap homophobic joke ON TOP OF being misogynistic. I feel like it was all just to spite me like you've already confessed to doing before because you think this is funny when it isn't.

Your misogynist fans will defend you again and make fun of me for apparently "over reacting" while you do nothing to counter my points because you know I'm right.

Whatever, crack your jokes at me, don't take any of my criticism to heart, live this miserable life of yours, I don't care.

See you next time, Judgemental Anon.

Anyway I played Snowgrave recently did you know the Pipis are gendered ?

Also Snowgrave sucks ass don't let men on YouTube tell you otherwise !

Also JA [ this is your nickname now ]

You seem to read every single post on my page and yet conveniently you've never answered me when I asked if you were into vore and mad at me for trolling the vore community

Kinda sus

[drdemonprince]

In April and May, i was working on a short story about a twunky trans boy and his artistic, very dommy and controlling boyfriend, who over the course of the pandemic both start working from home and transition their relationship into an intense 24/7 D/s dynamic. the subby trans guy in the story completely shifts his life priorities during lockdown, pivoting from a hard-driving career and into a semi-retirement, where he only works intermittently for a few hours per day, and spends the rest of the time a subspacey/brainwashed free use hole for his dom/BF. and the story follows a close friend of his who meets up with him after this has happened, and slowly comes to terms with loving the new person her longtime buddy has become. 

and like. damn. art really is magic sometimes. it’s like i conjured for myself the kind of life i always wanted. i feel reborn. i can’t even be sad right now that i wasted so much time not going after what i desired, because i think there is a seasoned, humbled kind of self knowledge among the divorced (or quasi divorced like me), just as there is among sober people and some recovered abuse survivors, where you come out the side of it knowing at last who you really are and what you are really on the earth for -- as well as what you can’t put up with ever again. i’ve had a good life. but i have denied myself some of the truest parts of me. yet at the same time, all these years i have been busily working, working, and laying the ground work for it to be possible to live the way i now want to live. 

every year i get better at shaving things off, shaving off habits and capitulations that never really suited me, and finding discomfort that i had long ignored and told myself i could deal with, and then at last ending it. i get less and less willing to tolerate the things that had silently made me miserable for years. and i get better at plunging head first into the things that i love. it’s scary, how happy i am, because i dont know fully yet how to believe i deserve good things, and i am used to thinking people will get sick of me and tired of my shit and that the good things will ebb. but even that i want to work on. i dont want to protect myself from disappointment by not being fully alive anymore. i refused to ask for much of anything the entire length of my last relationship. and that wasn’t good for him, and it gutted me, and it made the relationship shrivel into almost nothing. im not that person anymore. i actually feel loved by my close friends and worthy of love and desire more generally, now. mostly. 

im so glad i made it here. maybe i dont have to be afraid about it all ending, because at the end of the day, i will still be me, and i am lovable, and capable of getting what i want. my therapist always said i underestimate my likelihood of success in basically every realm of my life and that bitch was right 

[musedblues]

A Taste Of Honey (Part 2)

summary: A 1920's Deacy au! In which the reader, who comes from a family heavily involved in the American temperance movement, meets John, a bootlegger from overseas.

a/n: Well here it is. I'm fully aware interest may be completely lost in this fic but I'm very proud to have finished it. Im not sure where my writing journey will go from here. All I know is that this has been a very long time comin'... enjoy if you dare!

part 1 - 2

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"If anything happens, Deacy, I'll have your head!"

Ivan shook his fist from the front porch, illuminated by the light flooding from the opened front door. 

"I'll be fine!" You dismissed, skipping toward the car, still getting used to the sway of the heavy golden dress you borrowed from Alice. 

"I'm talking about my car!" Ivan shouted, correcting you. John let out a laugh at the remark, and gave your brother a nod, while he opened the passenger door, nudging you toward it.

Your brother and his wife had loaned the essentials to send you and John away for the party a man you never met was throwing. It was a small thrill, the prospect of such fun to be had, in comparison to the sickening exhilaration that coursed through you at the thought of spending any kind of evening at John's side. And the fact he'd asked you to. 

The ride was quiet and short, but dragged on with each new glance you dared to steal at the man driving. Both of John's hands relaxed on the wheel. A hint of that deadly smile on his lips. 

By the time you got to where you were going, you'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of the man by your side, that you'd nearly forgotten your plans for the evening.

If you had any expectations, they were blown clear away. Before you was an estate made up of too many windows to count, draped in vines and hanging lights. 

Even the crunch of the gravel that decorated the winding path you entered into sounded oddly elegant.

Inside was a fever dream of all the things you'd imagined on your short journey into the threshold. Across a giant winding staircase and below the shimmering chandelier were people from all walks of life, crammed together to have one grand time. Different music came from different corners and wild laughter filled the gaps, if there were any. 

And before you, John led the way. You couldn't recall the moment your hand found the bend of his arm, or if he cared that you'd reached out to him as he weaved through the crowd. But the grin on his face when he turned back to catch your eye had to be a good sign; despite the way your heart nearly burst at his look. 

John led you past hoards of people and trays of half full glasses. There was only one way to go, further inside the home, but John seemed to move as if he had an idea of where he was headed. Sure enough when the pair of you met the landing of the staircase, the host of the party was there to greet you. 

The host's initial booming hello was focused mostly on John. And without more than a glance your way, the party thrower shuffled John away from your side, insistent on sharing a chat with him on the top landing of the stairs.

You were left to linger, stalling at the base of the stairs and studying the crowd around you. Girls in beaded skirts and men with slicked back hair passed you by flashing well meaning but entirely distracted smiles. 

You'd felt mesmerized enough by the scene to slowly start to drift into it yourself. Reaching to brush your finger across meticulously carved bookcases and daring to take a glass from the extended hand of the first person to smile directly at you. 

You reached for the stem of the blue stained flute, and managed to make your talk small enough for the interested lad to wander far off. But offers kept coming. Glasses of this and that shoved in your face. You accepted the offers more out of respectful politeness than any eagerness to lose your wits. 

By the time you lost track of everyone's kind gestures, and a man was leading you closer to a table decorated with cards and chips, another hand intervened.

John was back, letting his fingers curl around your shoulder and nudging you in another direction of his choosing. Thrilling as it was for you, to have been handled just so by him, you were a little taken aback. 

Funny how after the sips of this and that, you felt steady as ever. But one look from John and your knees threatened to give out and all your cares too.

In the middle of the packed house, with John looking at you that way, you felt like the only person alive. And somehow this all added up to equal your new found courage to speak a little bolder than usual.

"Are you on strict orders from Ivan to steer me clear of any strange attention or do you maybe fancy me a little, John?" You dared wonder. You almost didn't care of the answer. So long as he kept guiding you through this evening with a strong steady hand.

"Both." John seemed to decide, continuing to guide you along. The pair of you had reached the patio doors by now, and the cool night breeze rushed through in perfect time to ease the heat that had rushed to your cheeks at John's response. 

"Let's go see the gardens!" You decided at first glance of the sprawling greenery that surrounded the estate. 

John let you tug him along, darting between couples and groups who'd come to ruin the fresh air with all their smoke.

He followed along, a very good sport, smiling as you pointed out flowers and trees you didn't realize could bloom in this part of the country. As you turned from marveling over a certain rose's colour, John seemed almost enraptured. Maybe not by your subject but certainly by some part of you. His gaze was fixed, and he seemed to bite back a wider grin. And your already lightened spirits seemed all the more weightless as your eye's met his. 

"If you keep looking at me like that, John, I'm going to have to kiss you." You let a small laugh escape, as the foreigners' expressions remained steadfast. 

He'd kissed you only the night before, on your brother's staircase. It was the only reason you felt free of regret enough to lean in and brush your lips against his again. John reciprocated fondly, letting one of his hands creep around the bend of your waist. You never realized it was possible to feel so happy. 

"Did you do that because you've been drinking? Or do you perhaps fancy me a little?"  John mocked your earlier statement, when the kiss died and your eyes locked. 

"Both." You smiled, charmed enough to try it a second time. But this kiss was broken much sooner than you reckoned any kiss ought to be.

"You know I'll be leaving soon. Just a week's more time." John killed the mood with a few words. You glanced to your feet and muttered understanding, noticing his hand still clutched your waist. 

"I just don't want to see you disappointed." John spoke up after a beat of heavy silence, and the words seemed hard for him to piece together, but he spoke them all the while. 

"Then don't disappoint me." You shrugged, glancing back up to the perfectly handsome man, who's smile seemed sad now.

"Come on, then." John said, moving his hand to find your own. "Not even I get to enjoy parties like this too often."

And you let him guide you back inside. You let the sun set on all the pretty flowers. And you let yourself feel grateful for the rest of the evening at John's side. 

///

He rode the train home with you the next day, sitting across the bench from you, and not saying very much. 

You felt the need to chatter at the pass of every few minutes. You got John to ramble a little about the other places he was due to visit in the states. The guy only one more stop at some.fancy hotel after your town, in the big city, next week. Then he'd head home. 

After explaining as much, the man went quiet again. But you couldn't let the silence last. It was as if you didn't work to hold his attention, it would be lost the next time you looked up. Maybe that wasn't true. But you couldn't risk letting John slip away so easily. Not when your heart practically lept from your chest each time his eyes met yours. If it wasn't meant to be, then so be it. But you were going to fight for the chance that you had, while it was still within reach. 

So when the train pulled into your neighborhood, and John stepped onto the platform, you stopped him waving goodbye. 

"Will you be back? To our shop, I mean?" 

John took a step closer toward you with a very serious expression that softened just before he spoke. 

"I wouldn't dare leave before telling you goodbye." He promised, in a low, sweet manner. 

John pressed his lips to your temple for one brief heavenly moment. And then he turned away to hail a cab. 

At least now, in your terrible mix of emotions, something very bright and warm burned within you. And you got to believe, for a moment, that the same reigned true for John.

///

But all was not well at home. How could it ever be? 

Your mother was horrified that you'd up and left for the night without so much as a word about it to her, and to your brother's home no less. 

Her disdain for her first born left you sick to your stomach more and more each day. 

But this was nothing new. You knew to give the woman a showy apology and to stay silent as she confined you to the kitchen table as she lectured about morality. Tomorrow things would be back to her regular sort of unhappiness. 

What really stopped you cold in your tracks that night, though, was the sight of your father stood in the doorway of your room with his arms crossed.

To bring a frown to his face was your greatest fear. For he'd loved you and shown it. And you dreamed of doing good by him every chance you got. As you stalled in the hall and waited for him to speak his mind, you hoped this would only be a reprimand for causing your mother unnecessary grief, for her madness made you all ten fold more miserable. 

"I know you've been with your brother..." Your father nodded with understanding, not looking right at you as he spoke calmly. "But that also means you've been with John. And I don't like that."

Oh. Ivan had warned you this might be your fathers mood. But you'd ignored his warning in hopes it wouldn't have been true. 

"You know John!" You countered, "You work with him! You're telling me you get to work with a man you don't like but I can't see him?"

"He's a fine man. But all wrong for you." 

"You're supposed to be the one who lets me find these things out on my own." You reminded. Your mother did plenty of directing you from day to day. Your father knew of what you spoke and nodded reluctantly, uncrossing his arms and looking you square in the eye. 

"Well not this time. Stay away from John, you hear me? He'll be gone before you know it anyhow." 

Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze as if to ease the blow of his demands. But as he walked back down the hall, the uncertainty that had stormed within you since John left you at the train station, raged wilder than before. 

What a jam... 

///

There was nothing stopping you from returning back to the depths of the coffee shop, the next time Ivan started up his business. 

Your mother was sound asleep, and your father was already there, serving the last of the coffee up top. Once you arrived you knew he'd be cross but unable to march you away. 

So you slipped on your finest dress and twirled down the rickety staircase that led to the party your brother charged for. 

There were already a good deal of friends jam packed into the small basement; dancing to swells coming from the gramophone and lining up to grab a glass from Ivan's makeshift bar. Your brother flashed a grin when he saw you sauntering in, but his smile turned somewhat more into a worried grimace when he saw you march up the man near the end of those overturned book shelves.

So was everyone concerned over your connection with John? Even the man who'd held your interest sort of frowned at the sight of you demanding his attention. 

John had his fingers curled around a glass. You took it from his grasp and the action made the bootlegger grin oh so slightly. But his frown returned after you slammed back the swallow of liquor in his glass- unsure yourself by what had come over you.

"Hey, come on, don't be that girl." Ivan called to you from behind the bar. You couldn't be sure if he was commenting on the way you'd claimed Deacy's drink for your own, or on the way you seemed too eager to get the stuff in your system. 

Before you could snap back at your brother's comment, though, John spoke up.

"Don't worry about it," He insisted in the charming draw of his. "Just pour me another." And as the man who you adored stepped past you to hold your brothers attention, John sort of let his hand brush across your waist. And he left his fingers to linger along your sides as Ivan, disgruntled, poured another for John. 

"Is that all you cut in line for?" Ivan sighed, nodding toward the few people, impatiently waiting to fill their glasses, stood in a row behind John. 

And you hadn't really considered this before your brothers prompting. But at his asking, you were moved to pull out a twenty dollar bill from your coin purse, and demand he give you your money's worth.

Ivan was reluctant, going on for a bit how once your father spotted you here, like this, that he'd surely be disappointed. And you didn't want that, did you? But little did Ivan know, you'd already disappointed your father. And you were determined to get something you wanted tonight, one way or another.

So with a sigh, Ivan poured you a tall drink and informed you were good to come back for a few more, to match your payment. 

So began your evening of ignoring John's worried remarks about slowing down. And as you kept the drinks coming you weren't even sure why. Perhaps it was to test your very own limits. To somehow prove you were more in control of your path than all the others who seemed to have something to say about the direction of your life. 

And damn John, for the way he kept his eyes locked on yours between the distance he silently kept insisting upon. And damn him for helping you find your balance, despite the steps he kept taking away from you. For letting his hands stay secure around your waist, long after you'd straightened up from stumbling.

And damn your father. He had to have been behind John's change in attitude. From the moment you'd met, John had been a flirt. And steadily, his quips kept getting bolder, until the last party you attended. Ivan's rambling about your fathers dislike of your fondness of John had to be what caused him to step back.

And damn your father, for finding you all dizzy in John's well meaning clutch, now. Your dad pointed to the door and demanded you find your way out of this scene. 

"I know you're not taking her back to your hole in the wall you've been staying at, in the state she's in." You father grumbled in a low curse, his eyes searing into John's. You tightened your hold on the fellow, shooting your father a glare all the same. He couldn't tell you where to go or with who. 

"Take her upstairs if ya like. But don't step foot past the alley. I'll be up in a minute."

After a shared look, John moved, pulling you alongside him. You moved,  happily leaning into him, disgruntled by the course of the evening all the while. Even Ivan seemed to shoot you a sorry grin when he noticed you being marched away, from across the room.

The alley was a little cold. But John's figure was warm. And as you followed his lead pausing just beyond the backdoor, you could feel this chance waiting to slip away. 

"You like me, don't you?" You wondered, turning to face the man you'd been so taken with since the moment he showed up at your door.

"Of course." John nodded, and answered so softly and with such care truly felt as though it were melting. 

"Then kiss me, John." 

"You're drunk."

"But we may never get the chance again. One or both of us are about to be beheaded. Either way, that'll make kissing hard to do from now on." You implored, letting your head fall to rest precariously on his shoulder as you finished your plea. You heard John let out a somber little chuckle as he dared to tighten his arm around you. 

And then you heard a shuffle beyond the backdoor, and let out a sigh at the timing of your father coming to ruin everything. 

But instead, the door bursts open to reveal Rita in a fluster. Her usually perfect makeup streaking down her cheeks. At the sight of the girl you'd always admired, a pang shot through your chest. But not immediately for her upset, whatever it was, but because you realized you'd failed to see your friend here all night, until now.

Before you could apologize, or ask what the matter was, Rita sucked in a breath and let out a string of words for you. 

"He was a snitch. He-he told my parents everything." She stammered, wild eye'd. 

"Who?" You begged to know, having turned away from John, but not having totally turned your attention away from his hand still rested on the small of your back. 

"The pastor's son. Cole. He- he said he was alright with this whole thing. But he... He told your mother. She's on her way here, she's-" 

Sound of a car roared closer, and the engine died away, drowning out the last of Rita's warning. For a second, you thought of making a break for it. But then the click of heels on the pavement seemed to count down your fate.

And then she stood there before you. Your mother, dressed to the nines, complete with her usual scowl.

You couldn't let go of John. Your nails seemed to dig into his side on their own accord. The pair of you stared ahead to the woman who gave you life, and kept you from living it all the same. She stood and stared too, almost like she was giving you a chance. And that was the scariest bit of it all. 

As time seemed to pause, John let your name escape him in a nervous breath, like a warning. Trying to alert you that your hanging off him wouldn't help. But there was no way you were gonna let him go now. 

It was then your mother decidedly sauntered up to the two of you, letting her eyes search your from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and back up again. 

When she let out a scof, you realized you'd been holding your own breath. And when you opened your mouth, willing oxygen in, or words of mitigation out, your mother decided what was next. 

Before you could blink, one of her strong hands was digging into your arm, and she was tearing you away from John's gentle hold.

And despite his caution earlier, you could feel John's hand still trying to keep hold of you, as you were yanked away. The sensation of being taken from the man's clutch was horrid, but what was more painful was the feeling of his fingers trying and failing to keep hold.

So when your mother tossed you aside, toward the brick of the coffee house wall, you were hardly affected; not like you'd only just been.

And when you looked up, after steadying yourself and dusting your stone imprinted hands of dust, John was stepping closer toward your mother. He shouted something at her, about how she didn't have the right to treat you just so. But before he could finish defending you, he was shut down.

Your mothers hand flew across his cheek, and the sound of the slap and John's shocked hiss echoed through the alley and caused something vile to rise in your gut. 

You pushed yourself from the wall then, indifferent to the dizziness you felt, desperate to reach out to the man you'd been so fond of; calling his name.

But your mother was there, more sober and more angry. And she halted your mission to make it to your man, digging her nails into your sides and forcing you in the other direction. 

"John I'm sorry, John..." You called past the lump in your throat. That was when Ivan came upon the scene. He darted from the doorway and did his damnedest to block your mothers storming off. 

"You're a monster. Let her go!" Your brother fummed, as your mother managed to storm around her first born, pushing you along. 

"I'm her mother. And I'll do as I see fit to keep my child out of harm's way." Your mother stated, almost calmly.

"You're no mother. You're a walking nightmare. She's not your plaything-"

"Word's won't fix this, Ivan." You said, reminding him that his defying of the woman only ever made her ten times more evil.

"I'll pray for your children, son." Your mother nodded, opening the passenger door of her car, and flinging you toward the bench. "They're going to need it."

You didn't look to Ivan, as your mother drove off. You didn't dare look to John. You only hung your head and cried silent tears while your mother peeled down the road. And the whole way home, she spat vile things about you and Ivan. Her own children. About your father, her beloved husband. And aout John, a man who, since his arrival, had only tried to help out.

You let your tears dry when the car pulled up to the house you'd never really felt at home in. And went willingly from the ride to the door, knowing you would get very far in the countryside if you dashed away now. You'd need a wiser plan. Still, your mother dug her claws into your arm and marched you up the staircase to your room, like you were a girl no oler to know better. 

"Stay here." She demanded after pushing your further into your bedroom, her fist around the doorknob, establishing total control. 

You expected to be banished here. What you didn't expect, however, was the return of your mother with boards to nail against your windows. You might've laughed if you weren't the one being all locked up. Wasn't this sort of thing only supposed to happen in twisted fairy tales? You're life was twisted enough, you supposed.

She left you there, trapped in the space that was meant to be your own, meant to be safe. As you sulked in silence, the memory of your mothers assault on John haunted you. The horrid sound her action resulted in. His gut wrenching reaction, the small hiss, his stalling in the place she put him in. 

And the way he watched you being dragged off, helpless and sorry for you. It was pathetic, the situation you found yourself in. So you let your tears bubble up again and you cried and cried; until exhaustion set in. Tomorrow was a new day....

///

There was a pounding at your door, loud enough to jolt you from slumber.

"Open up!" The sound of your father calling from beyond the hall stirred you fully conscious. In one swift dash you were stood before your door, jiggling the handle, feeling silly for hoping that would work. 

"She's locked it." You groaned. "Do you have a key?" Your wonder was nearly frantic, and so were you- trying still to twist the knob. At the sound of your fathers grumbled cursing, you began to bustle about for some hair pins, but quickly realized you wouldn'tve had a clue to how to finess the tools into working like another. 

Then you heard your mother. She  shouted down the hall, telling your father to get out of her sight, to leave you be. Shouting that you were better off confined. That you'd be locked away until she found the right reformatory to ship you off to. You knew she meant it. You knew she'd send you away without a care of your consent. 

"She's not a child anymore. You can't just treat her like a bad pet who needs training."

"I'm her mother. And I'll be damned if I don't do what's best for my child. I failed the first time. God knows you never cared about either of them like I care." Your mother spat, breaking your heart and your fathers too no doubt. 

Their bickering lasted a while longer, and you spun away from listening in to force yourself to think. There had to be a way out of here, out of this life. There had to be a way to a better world. 

And the best you could do was wait.  Until dinner. Wait until your mother brought you a tray of soup and bread, trading a few put downs before she twirled from your room. And then you checked the time, and counted down the hours to her always predictable nightly routine.

And you waited still, until your bedside clock ticked well passed after midnight.

And then you used a lamp to pry the nails away from windows. You could tell her bedroom light was out by leaning against the sill.

With no time to spare, you tossed a change of clothes in your purse, and the envelope stashed with tips you'd been saving for over a year. 

It wasn't a very long way down. With the help of a lattice panel and the dark of night, you found grassy freedom in no time. Your heart beat heavy as you crept toward the road. It wouldn't be safe, not until the city lights were in view. But your shoes were flat and your hopes were high.

Miraculously, no one stopped you. Not the truck who zoomed by somewhere still deep along the dark country road. Not the school kids on the edge of town, tossing bottles off the bridge. And not the sleepy clerk at the desk of the hotel you raced into. 

"Be here, be here, be here..." You prayed under your breath, hurrying to the room you remembered John booking. And right as you rounded the hall, the door of the room you'd been in search of opened. 

But the squeak of wheels gave away the presence of a maid, pushing her cart of cleaning supplies out into the hall.

"He's gone?" You sighed, stopping at the end of the hall, your feet aching after moving so ceaselessly through the night. 

"Whoever was here left a while ago." The maid stopped for a moment, looking to you with a sorry expression. "Around dinner time."

"Right. Is there a phone at the desk?" 

The maid nodded and wished you luck, and you thanked her for it. You'd need as much as you could get. 

The clerk who was still kicked back, sleeping, startled at your ringing the bell on the desk. And though they didn't seem pleased at your begging to use the phone, they let you.

It only rang twice. 

"Hello?" Your fathers voice was a pleasant surprise. Of course he'd gone to stay with Ivan, in the midst of all this chaos. 

"Dad, Im-"

"Where are you? Does she know you've gone? I'll come fetch you."

"No." You implored, holding up a hand as if he could have seen your insistence.  "No I've phoned to let you know I'm taking the train to the city. I've got to find John before he leaves. And I'm sure of where he is. I've got to try." 

John had told you where he was headed next, on your last train ride together. And you'd felt silly for keeping the details at the front of your memory... until now.

The other line went quiet for a beat. And you'd fully prepared yourself for your fathers disapproval. But then he just said,

"Okay." Your father seemed to realize the weight of your feelings, you thought, by his tone of voice. "I knew you'd get out of there, eventually." And once more, you could tell by his tone he wasn't just referring to the room you'd been locked in for the last couple nights. "Phone us again, when you're safe and sound. I know you will be."

At his blessing, tears sprung in your eyes. You were going to go no matter what. But to have your father on your side made you even more determined to fly out of this hotel, and to the next one you knew John was meant to be staying at. 

///

Booking a train ticket was nearly impossible. And if you had spent much longer pleading with the station, you would have missed the bus pulling up down the block, offering rides in the right direction. 

The couple hour journey was maddening, and thrilling, and terrifying all at once. You were on your way to change your life. No matter what John said, or how he greeted you; no matter if he fell into your embrace or left you in the hotel lobby, you'd never go back the way you'd come from. 

And luckily, you managed to find the hotel John had briefly spoken of, without much trouble. It was the grandest of the business booming on this side of the city. Folks flooded in and out of the revolving doors, as you considered the past set of days that had led you to standing before here with such an erratic heartbeat.

But you only stayed paused for a moment. Your feet were darting inside before your mind caught up with how close you were to the mission at hand. 

The lobby was just as full of people as the revolving doors had been, lines forming near the desk, groups fighting to fit their luggage into golden elevators. 

And though you hated to be the person you'd decided to be, you dashed to the end of the front desk, hoping the clerk would spare you a minute at most. 

"I just need to know if someone's booked a room." You begged to know, shooting sorry looks to the people you'd cut in front of. The clerk seemed to have no patients for you, but miraculously, another set of hands swooped in to help. Some nice older woman flipped through the bookings to find John's name, after you gave it, and came up short.

"What about Deacy?" You hoped all of a sudden, quickly beginning to lose your ambition the longer she shook her head.

You'd done what you could, rudely so. And scurried away so your unwelcome presence would no longer be in the way of things.

And as you sauntered away, giving one last pathetic glance about the crowded lobby, you reminded yourself that it was all alright. You might not have found John. But you were finally free.

And then you pushed through the revolving door. And past your ghostly reflection, you spotted a familiar set of grey eyes. 

John seemed to wait until your gaze registered his own, before spinning around to make it indoors. You ignored the chilly night air and pushed on until you were right back where you'd just started to leave from. 

There he was, before you as real and sure as the sun and moon.

"You never gave me a proper goodbye." You reprimanded through a growing smile. He'd promised to give you a farewell, once. 

"How about a rain check? I've got lot's more important things to tell you, as a matter of fact." The man you'd come to adore smiled then, and offered his arm. You held on without hesitation and managed to follow his lead through the crowd, to the room he'd been staying in.

It was a humble little space, his suitcase opened on the coffee table and a yellow lamp left on by the window. John shut the door behind you with a soft click, loosening the pale blue tie round his neck, as you glanced about the room.

"I came by. Your place, I mean." John admitted, leaning against the closed door, as you turned from admiring the wall art to face him.

"You did?"

And then John said your father had dragged the Brit along, that night he'd knocked at your door. John was outside with high hopes. But your mother had caught your father before you'd even known there was a plan. 

"So you did try to come and tell me goodbye." You laughed a little, kind of glad he wasn't able to. This reality where you'd run to him was much more befitting to the situation, you thought. 

"Well, no." John pointed, not laughing along with you. "I never really wanted to say goodbye."

You stood there, taking in the sight of him. Watching John's brows oh so slightly furrow upward, hope pouring from his expression. You considered the gleam in his eye and the way he slowly seemed to shift his posture a little closer to you. 

"So we haven't got to part ways in a hurry then?" You wondered. Asking more than if you could linger a while longer in his rented room.

John seemed to know what you were asking. He seemed relieved, too. His shoulders loosened as the man crossed the space between you, in no big hurry. It seemed the two of you had all the time in the world at your disposal, now. John took his time, reaching out to tuck away some loose hairs near your ear. And his smile grew steadily too. By the time the guy pressed a kiss to your lips, you'd been wondering if the dawn would be breaking any time soon.

But the longer John went on kissing you, the less you thought of the sunrise. As John enclosed you in his arms, all your thoughts were of the man you'd come to adore. 

And as laid next to him and closed your eyes to the rising sun, you couldn't recall ever having experienced such a bright morning. 

"So you're not too eager to head back home, yeah?" John asked, once you'd both stirred from a restful slumber.

"I think I found a much more suitable place to be." You smiled, referring to the spot you'd settled under John's arm. 

And it didn't take much convincing on his end for you to agree on catching the next boat across the pond. 

///

The other line rang so long you'd almost decided to hang up. Then your brother answered. 

"Helllooooo!" He sang in a chipper timbre, making you wonder if he'd been expecting you at exactly this time, or if he answered everyone that way.

"Well I was going to ask how you were but it seems you're so well I don't have to wonder." You laughed into the receiver. 

The morning was early, and a breeze blew back a sheer curtain, obscuring your view of the grey English morning. 

Ivan spent the next few minutes yaking about how glad he was to hear from you. And you were glad to listen. On your rather spontaneous journey overseas, you were bogged down for a brief moment, at the thought of being so far from your dear brother. But as he rambled in your ear now, you'd never felt closer to him.

Ivan asked how things were. He asked after John, and that mattered so much more to you than his concerns for your well being. And when you had had your fill of the attention being on you, you begged your brother to give you all the details of what happened after you ditched home.

He said your mother was as furious as expected. Said she tried to blame your brother and her husband for your running off. Said she tried to get the police to shut down the coffee house for hosting such an undignified business after hours.

"You should'a seen her face when she found out officer Willard was our most loyal customer." Ivan chuckled. 

"We did have to pay a fine, in the end, so she'd quit her raving. It was almost everything we'd saved away for the baby." 

Your brother sighed. And you cooed his name in commiseration. 

"But my friend who owns that estate, the one who threw that party John took you to," Ivan explained. "He was good enough to loan us a bit of cash to stash away." Your brother said the man tried to give the money away outright, as a thank you to Ivan for helping start up his own speakeasy of sorts. But Ivan was dead set on paying him back, one day.

"Now we can't decide to name the babe after him, or John." Ivan chuckled. 

"And what if it's a girl?" You mused. 

"That'll just have to be a surprise." Ivan said, and just then the line went dead. You called your brother's name with a little hope he'd come back to tell you more. 

But you didn't worry when the line went on buzzing. You'd see him and his darling wife and his child to be, one day. You'd see your father too, if he was still hiding out at your brothers place. Hell, maybe they'd all come over here. 

Maybe you'd build a life with John, in his humble little English flat. You certain felt at home, watching the guy of your fancy stay dreaming as the sun rose. 

John had been kind to you. He'd been your friend when he didn't have to be. He'd let you lean into him, and he laughed at your jokes. He invited you into his world and smiled wide the closer your ship rolled toward London. 

And he'd treated your shoes as if they'd always been stored in the middle of the welcome mat. John opened his space up to you, and asked every night for the first few weeks, if you were happy, if you needed anything more. Your answers were always yes and no. 

And he didn't need to ask for honey in his coffee anymore. You just knew to add a little in the warm cup you'd have ready near the place he liked to sit in the morning. 

It was familiar and it was sweet, and so was John. Maybe he liked honey in his tea, too. And dear God, how you prayed every year from here on out; got to be spent guessing at life alongside the man who'd thrilled you by wondering all your answers all along.

[j45uk3]

정원 - [SIDE EFFECT]

genre:: angst??

characters: yang jungwon & gender-neutral!oc

wc: 1.1k

synopsis: yang jungwon, a celebrity because of his band. Known as the leader and the one with the strongest mindset. After their band takes a break out of nowhere, Jungwon, hides a sickness no one else knows. Except for his best friend. Thus, the sickness keeps on getting worse, but is it because it’s a side effect? Or is it because of his best friend?

others: all characters are 18+, drinking, censored cursing, inspired by “the mermaid prince: the beginning” starring moonbin(from astro my bae), chae wonbin and hwi young (yes promoting wbk) 

"WHAT THE FVCK? YOUR SAYING IT'S MY GODDAMN FAULT YOU'RE LIKE THIS?" I complained as I looked directly into the eyes of my friend. He came home right after drinking with his friends. 

“Y-YES! *hiccup* Y-YOU N-NEVER EVEN T-TAKE C-CARE OF ME A-ANYMORE” he replied as he pointed at me and to the pile of homework i had on my desk. 

“MY FAULT? YOU’RE SAYING IT’S MY FAULT?” I asked in disbelief. His head stayed down and his hiccups continuously went. 

“WHY WOULD I TAKE CARE OF YOU? YOU HAVE A WHOLE BAND” i snapped. 

“y-yes but I've known you longer” then tears poured out of his eyes, his hands travelled to his face and he aggressively rubbed it showing great despair. 

taken aback, i sighed and rubbed my forehead, Slowly walking to the broken boy in front of me.

“Jungwon, none of this drinking is doing you right. Your grandma, she called me. She told me she’s worried about you” i softly said while rubbing his back. it was 12am and jungwon’s been very distant to everyone. no one knows about what’s happening to him, not even me. 

“just tell me, what the hell-”

“i have a heart problem” 

my mind went blank and my entire body froze. was that the reason his band took a break? and he’s drinking? how about his expenses? why hasn’t he told anyone yet-

“i know, i’m not supposed to be doing anything im doing now.” he followed saying as if he read my mind. 

“i know im not supposed to be drinking-”

“then why are you doing it” anger- oozing out of my tone, i couldn’t handle seeing jungwon so miserable and helpless. he KNEW what he was doing was wrong so why would he keep doing it - all he was doing was making it worse and making other people feel worse. 

“did you even know that your grandma was worrying about you? did you even know I and your band is worried about you!?” 

“its been getting worse ok” he whispered.

“what-”

“-ITS BEEN GETTING WORSE” he screamed and his eyes met mine. his eyes were red and he held each of my shoulders with both of his hands and pulled me in a hug.

On instinct, my hands lifted and hugged him back. His soft voice spoke “i-i don’t wan’t t-to die” 

my heart broke hearing jungwon this weak. As his team’s leader, he’s always been the strong one but of course, he hid all his flaws well. Enduring everything, all the hate and criticism, with a smile. One of the biggest, sweetest smiles in this world, yet it was all fake. It broke him. But no one saw through it, except me and his family. Now, he has a heart problem. 

“J-jungwon, y-you won’t die..” 

“My heart beats too fast, it’s so hard for me to handle already” he choked on his own tears, cutting him off. “my doctor says it’s a side effect, but it’s just too much” he let go of me ending the hug and his face ended up inches away from mine. 

His features were still beautiful even up close, the stains on his face were visible and my hand wiped it all away. But to my surprise, his hand travelled to mine and he caressed it. I looked up and our eyes met.

“ do you hear that? It’s happening right now” then he got my hand from his face and put it on top of his chest. His heart was palpitating and his sweat fell down from his face. 

“I’m not stupid but, it only happens when I’m with you” he softly said and his legs gave up on him and he kneeled down the floor. 

“Jungwon-”

“So please stop being like this, i-i hate it, so much.” he said out loud.

“It hurts so much, and i don’t even know why-”

The bold remark he made genuinely surprised me. From what i know jungwon’s inexperienced for love and now he has a heart problem. I kneeled down with him and lifted his face with my fingers, “is this how you’re going to ask me out? Through your sickness?” 

“What? N-no, i-im not asking you out…” 

I let go of my hand from his face and crossed my arms. “Really? Well, you said your heart beats too fast when it’s with me and with me only?” 

“I-it’s the side effect” he stuttered. 

I scoffed to myself, and smiled. This is awkward.

To be honest, i liked him too. Alot. I wouldn’t say it’s ever since we were kids since that’s too cliché, i would say after i saw his first ever performance with his band. I thought to myself on how he deserves the universe. Though the world didn’t decide to do that.

“Well, let’s test that out.”

“Wha-” 

My hands cupped his face and I leaned in for a kiss. It was short but meaningful, I opened my eyes for a second and his eyes were what i met - closed. I mentally celebrated and closed my eyes again. Out of nowhere, his hands slowly cupped mine at the same time. 

I slowly let go and I looked down, sh!t. I was too ashamed and scared to meet his eyes and my face heated. I stood up from my previous position, fixed my things and fast-walked going outside.

“WAIT-” 

Why the hell would I do that? I just confessed, indirectly and i’m doomed for life. If this simple kiss ruins everything then, it’s gone. Everything. It’ll be awkward between us and we’ll probably ignore each other for the rest of our lives. 

NO.

I should go back and talk to him right? Knowing him, he would probably chase me, but it’s so cold outside. He’ll get sick- 

“y/n!” Jungwon’s voice echoed in my head. 

Gosh, now I’m even dreaming of him? What kind of thoughts-

“Y/N” a breathy voice called me from behind, jungwon. I was right- 

I didn’t know how to face him now, everything was too embarrassing. I just kissed him and i walk out of his house. What kind of friend am i? 

“L-let me walk you home” white smoke escaped from his blood-red lips that i just kiss-

“YEA SURE-” i cut myself off. Facing forward, i walked going to the sidewalk. Now is definitely the wrong time to think that way Y/N, you unholy rascal. 

As expected, it was one of the most awkward moments i ever had with him. We both walked forward in silence. There’s only one thing in my mind right now, to reach the pedestrian and run. The weather’s too cold and he definitely won’t chase after me. I mean, he doesn’t like me and it’s just the-

“It’s just the side effect” he said out loud, stopping me in my tracks. My mind went blank and my heart dropped. Then that means he doesn’t like me. Then why did he kiss me back? Did he just use that for his own leisure?

“Let’s just stay as friends ok?” 

[dented-nado]

So so- James gets sick (you decided how sick he is loll) and Walter/Stolas/both take care of him

Im sorry sickfics are just so wholesome

Takes place before William, Grelle and Ronald were reapers (or even alive at) – For the reaper realm is sort of more in a colonial era vibe, but in the human world it’s currently 1568.

James is a character that’s had one appearance in my Black Butler Fan-Comic Will to Live – Stolas is an upcoming character – and Walter is a fan character that’s formed on our discord server lol.

Hope you like this!!! I kind of hinted at Walter’s existence and helping, but I ended up writing more about Stolas trying to get James just to go heckinnn rest lol. Hope that’s okay!

=====

Anyone who worked anywhere within the reaper realm in England would tell you their general manager was being particularly nasty. There was a rumor going around that his eyes were turning red with rage, Red.

Stolas, being the current head manager of the London Reaper district of course ended up hearing about the rumor. One of those little things that would come up during coffee breaks. Sometimes rumors spread quickly, many of them ended up not being true or over exaggerated… all of them had been there are REALLY long time after all, and sometimes rumors were the only thing that made their grueling jobs a little bit interesting.

This one… however, made Stolas sigh, he knew James too well, if those under him are especially scared of him at the moment, something was up.

Many of his coworkers thought Stolas was insane for remaining cheery with James, or they feared him too by proxy. Stolas wasn’t stupid, he knew why everyone was scared of James – James did it on purpose for Christ’s sake. However, since he had come on some 200 years ago and had many an interaction with the guy, finding himself unphased by his scare tactics... (he had seen men much more monstrous than James after all), he couldn’t help but feel some sort of…. Sympathy? No, that might not be the word? Maybe sometimes he just got a glimmer of the kind of man James could be and wanted to reach out and pull that glittering little gem out. He just hoped he wasn’t seeing something that wasn’t there.

He gazed at the large grandfather clock ticking away in the corner of his office, such a device was new to him, but he had picked it up a little quicker than James had who had kept time by candle for much longer than most of them.

He had 10 more minutes before his break would be over…

Stolas closed his large book he had snuck in to read on his breaks, it was one on the Tudors he had gotten quite lost in. Normally more ancient societies piqued his interest, but it was harder to get good accounts… he half wished he could just explore those ancient cities and discover their secrets himself. But… alas… here he was, not that he could have gone far in his human life either.

He downed the last bit of his tea before sitting up, making sure his ink well was covered and his quill was secure for when he inevitably came back to work.

He walked out of the London office and down the hall, tapping on James’s office door cheerfully, barely waiting for a grunt before coming in.

“What do you want?” James accused, looking up from his paperwork.

Now he did look quite the sight, more tired and grouchy than usual – and judging from the redness of his nose, it was irritated.

“Well now, I had heard you were especially difficult to deal with, and now I know why!” Stolas said, pushing his glasses up his nose and grinning.

James sighed, leaning back and rubbing his left eye slightly, they looked a bit bloodshot.

“Maybe if everyone did their job correctly…”

“Yes, then you wouldn’t be so cross all the time, blah blah blah, I’ve heard the script.” He took a few steps forward, leaning on James’s desk, something only he seemed to get away with. “You’re sick.”

“You’re pissing me off.” James snipped back, baring his teeth.

Stolas shook his head. This man was like trying to be friendly to a wolf on a good day, a rabid one on a bad day.

“Why don’t you just take the day off James? If your sick its not as if you can help it.” Stolas offered.

“I can get up, I can walk, I haven’t sprouted any pustules, not that reapers could get such a horrible thing thank god…” He paused, rubbing his hands together as if having the urge to wash them. “Unless I keel over, I’m still coming into work. Any reaper disease can’t be serious, it won’t kill me.”

“You’re a stubborn man James.” Stolas said, deciding to state the obvious. “What does Walter think?” He asked, furrowing his brows.

Walter was supposedly a ghost from James’s old life that followed him around. Stolas wasn’t entirely convinced he existed, or if he was a ghost in the sense of something James had been through that haunted him, or perhaps was his way of coping with the state of things. He cared for James enough that he didn’t want to try and tell James what he was or wasn’t experiencing… he couldn’t see through his eyes after all. If Walter was real… well… maybe it was good that James still had someone around to keep him grounded. If he wasn’t… what could he really do about that?

“Walter can mind his own business too.” He growled stubbornly, seemingly reading the same sentence on his paperwork a third time over, getting more frustrated.

Stolas narrowed his eyes, he slammed his hands down on the desk briefly, startling James a bit as he suddenly crossed over to his side of the desk, leaning down from his decent height and pointing his finger only inches away from James’s face.

“Either you let me take you home willingly, or I pick you up and carry you kicking and screaming.” He said very seriously.

James’s eyes widened before turning into a glare, leaning up and meeting his gaze with his own threatening one. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Stolas grinned.

James didn’t have time to run. He growled as Stolas tackled him and lifted him up out of his seat, having no problem lifting the bearded man up onto his shoulder.

“STOLAS SANTORI YOU PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!” He barked.

Stolas chuckled, he could tell all of James’s teeth were razor sharp just from the tone of his voice.

“You stay out of this!” James then barked, seemingly pointing at thin air in irritation, and Stolas was almost sure the air got colder.

Stolas walked towards the door, ignoring James struggling. “Last chance, I can put you down and you can go with me and retain some dignity…”

James stiffened and stopped flailing before sighing and going limp. “Fine, FINE! Just put me down or I swear I’ll have you- GAH!!”

Stolas followed his order and let James fall off his shoulder, only barely catching his balance.

James breathed heavily before coughing a bit, trying to straighten his hair and jacket. “If… If I’m penalized for being gone today…”

“I’ll take full responsibility. You can say you were kidnapped.” Stolas responded, walking out into the hallway with James in tow.

“…If I were to say you kidnapped me and disrupted my work… you could be put on trial.”

Stolas simply slipped his glasses off, cleaning them as they walked. He knew the halls well enough by now he probably could have found his way around without being able to see at all.

“If it happens… it happens.”

“How can you be so calm about such a thing?” James snapped before sneezing, grumbling, and pulling a handkerchief out of his coat pocket to blow his nose into.

“If that’s my fate, who am I to argue with it. I prefer to do what I think is right James, not what is easy or safe. And right now… seeing you rested is what I believe is right.” He said, looking down at James sincerely as they walked out of the building.

James hung his head for a moment, grinding his teeth slightly before walking again to head to his assigned home, Stolas not far behind.

“You’re a fool.” He said simply, and quietly.

Stolas just laughed. “Maybe. Most people seem to think so for getting within 2 feet of you.” He said softly, nudging James with his arm.

James felt miserable, he was annoyed, and on some level, he was scared.

But despite all that… he smiled.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

cw for abuse and alcoholism

so im the bad person at this point. i mean my dad regularly beat me and starved me and told me i was shit until i finally moved out of his house a few years ago. he was drunk the whole time i knew him. i’ve been addicted to alcohol awhile too now. he made me drink with him a lot growing up. suddenly after a few years my dad’s reaching out to me because he met someone and got sober and he’s a stepdad now to some great kids, and i guess he’s just doing really great and wanted to apologize and reconnect with me. but im so pissed off about the whole thing. he’s sober and happy and has a lovely family, and im drunk and miserable and completely fucking alone. i don’t want to reconnect or know how great he’s doing or meet his new family. but i know im just being petty. like i wish i would be happy for him and start putting work into cleaning up my own life. instead im just wallowing in the past and being like fucking infuriatingly jealous of his progress. if anyone has some advice for how to move on, i guess? i just wanna get over myself and stop being so angry, and stop drinking, and stop acting like the villain toward his whole family. why do i have to be the monster? im so fucking sick of myself, but just cant seem to let go of my anger no matter what i try.

Hey anon,

Your anger is entirely understandable and valid. I've been in a similar position--my dad was an alcoholic, and a few years after he moved out he went to rehab. Immediately after getting out he moved out of state and got back with his on/off girlfriend of over twenty years, and they're now married. He regularly texts me about how well he's doing, and I'm glad for him, but I'm also furious. He completely screwed up my life, and the lives of my mother and brother, who are the two most important people in the world to me, and none of us were enough for him to get better, but now he gets to be happy while we're all in year four of therapy to deal with what he did to us.

Angry rant aside, my point is--I understand. I truly do. I wish I could say it gets easier, but it honestly hasn't in my situation--I haven't lived with my dad for nearly four years and he's been out of rehab for three, but I still have a hard time talking to him without yelling at him for what he did. I spent a lot of time mad at how unfair it was that he got to hurt me and the people I care about the most in a way that will never fully go away, at how unfair it was that I never got a father but he still got his perfect family--I have to fight myself to not get mad over it again sometimes.

The best thing I can suggest is to limit your communication with him the most you can. Not thinking about him is the only way the anger goes away. I'm not going to tell you to forgive him or anything, because sometimes the person is just beyond forgiveness, and that's okay. As cheesy at it sounds, though, I would encourage you to forgive yourself, because that anger isn't going to do anything but hold you where you are now.

You don't owe your father and his family anything. You don't need to be in any of their lives if you don't want to, and that's not wrong or bad at all.

About alcoholism: the first step to treatment is realizing that there's a problem and having the motivation to fix it, and I'm so proud of you. Your healing is going to be hard, but I fully believe you can do it. It's like you to do well.

This site contains a lot of resources for starting rehabilitation. You may also want to start by scheduling an appointment with your general practitioner, who will have resources available and should be able to work with your insurance.

Alcoholics Anonymous has a 24 hour hotline, which can link you with local resources, if your insurance won't cover rehabilitation or you can't afford it. The hotline is (209) 339-1201.

I really hope this helps, anon. I'm so sorry you went through what you did, and your feelings are valid. I have nothing but faith in your ability to recover. Please send in another ask if there's anything else we can do for you, and remember that you do not owe your father anything, period.

Stay safe,

Mod Henrie