#you know people talk so what happened with your mom and I vaguely told her what was going on

[orallech]

The bravest thing you can do if you live in a very small rural town is know nothing about it and be as vague about yourself as possible to the other towns folk when they ask you about yourself.

[cosmerelists]

Pros and Cons of Stormlight Characters in the Middle Seat Next to You on a Budget Airline.

As requested by anon. :)

1. Kaladin

Cons: His legs are so long. His hair is so luxurious. His shoulders are so broad. This large, beautiful man is not trying to be in your space, but the budget airline seat cannot contain him. Pros: You started what you thought was an idle conversation, but by the end of your flight, he had diagnosed your chronic pain and become your therapist??

2. Shallan

Pros: Well, she's more of a regular-sized human and she's friendly but quiet. She seems to just want to sketch the whole flight, so no complaints! Cons: Why does she keep staring directly at a space across the plane and sketching the creepiest symbol-headed creatures you've ever seen with her eyes vaguely glazed over like she doesn't even know she's doing it holy shit is this a Twilight Zone situation where there are invisible gremlin monsters on this plane that only she can see and is it your imagination or do you hear humming from somewhere

3. Adolin

Cons: Listen, this is a budget airline, and this guy seems to think it's a fancy spa?? He's got the slippers, the posh eye mask, the luxurious travel pillow, some really nice face creams, and he seems to be video chatting with a girl even though the internet on the plane doesn't even work. Frankly, you're jealous and grouchy about it. Pros: Okay, he actually seems really sweet and he gave you some of his way-too-nice-for-an-airplane snacks. You take it all back; this guy is awesome.

4. Szeth

Pros: He is so still. So quiet. Almost folded in on himself. Barely...breathing? Honestly, you keep forgetting the middle seat is occupied, and how rare is that! Cons: You just...you think you'd feel better if he just blinked. Just once. Please.

5. Lift

Cons: You had to sigh just a little when a little kid plopped down next to you. Also, she goes to the bathroom every five minutes, and comes back with food every time. You think she might be robbing people. Pros: She complimented your butt quite sincerely. You've always been kinda self-conscious about your butt! But apparently yours is the "second best she's ever seen." Feels nice.

6. Jasnah

Pros: Like, is it possible for someone to just be really good at flying? She came in, expertly stowed her luggage, sat down elegantly, did her seatbelt, used a wipe to clean up the tray table and surrounding area, and immediately starting reading some thick tome. Do you have a crush on her? You might have a crush on her. Cons: She glanced at the book you're reading, and you know she judged you for it.

7. Wit

Cons: Does this guy EVER stop talking? Pros: Okay, actually, you found him kind of annoying at first, but that story he told you about the temple and the duck might have healed years of trauma? Did you just realize that you don't have to forgive your mom and that's okay?

8. Renarin

Pros: He sat down and you were like, "Okay. Cute nerd. I dig it." Cons: You just wish he wouldn't scrawl foreboding-seeming numerals on the back of the airline chair in front of him. Is it counting down to...just before the plane lands? What does it mean???

9. Amarem

Cons: He came in and was IMMEDIATELY like, "I am taller than you and so I should have your seat." And then he just...waited? Like he thought you'd just comply??? Pros: He seems intent on pretending that never happened. Fine by you. That guy seems like an asshole.

10. Zahel

Pros: He falls asleep, like, immediately and doesn't stir for the entire flight. Cons: He's just kinda stinky.

11. Dalinar

Cons: He sits down and, unprompted, says something like, "In my youth I would always battle to occupy every armrest but now, after reading The Way of Planes, I have realized that it is the journey, not the armrests, that matter, so you can have them" and then you're like, "Dude, the person in the middle seat gets the armrests that's just common courtesy" and then he looks at you and you look at him and it's vaguely awkward the whole flight and nobody uses the armrests. Pros: Actually, after a while you do take the armrest and the tension goes down a lot.

12. Taravangian

Pros: He just kinda seems like a nice old man, you know? Kinda confused about stuff, but harmless enough. Cons: He falls asleep partway through and droops his head onto your shoulder and drools a bit and you know you sound ridiculous but it feels somehow calculated. Intentional. Evil.

13. Sebarial

Cons: The very second beverage service starts he's all, "Bring me a BOTTLE of wine" and you're like, "Oh no. It's one of those dudes who gets way too drunk on planes!" Pros: You know? This guy actually seems pretty jolly and chill. You catch yourself thinking, "I wish I could pretend he was my uncle." You're not sure where that came from.

14. Rock

Pros: He scoffs at the provided airline snacks and gets out this thermos and gives you the best damn soup you've ever had in your life. Cons: He's just a large, warm man. Very large. Very warm. Not his fault, of course, but now YOU are very warm.

15. Elhokar

Cons: Every time there is plane turbulence, he mutters something about how it's the assassins coming to finish the job. Poor dude must be really scared of flying. Pros: You feel a warm, parental feeling growing in you as you look at this sad, scared man. Maybe your mom was right. Maybe you WOULD be good with kids.

16. Eshonai

Pros: This lady is, just, SO excited to be traveling that it can't help but make YOU excited to travel. Like, you always thought plane travel sucked, especially budget airline travel, be she is so delighted by everything that you find yourself thinking, "You know, it IS pretty amazing that we're soaring through the sky right now traveling to a new land." Cons: Cons? No cons. You wish you could ALWAYS see flying through this woman's eyes.

[t1oui]

going to school and being friends with percy jackson would be REALLY WEIRD so let's discuss it rq

he gets dropped off every day in his stepfather's car, which inexplicably has hoof prints on the hood?

the panic attacks... there's a lot of them, and nobody can even tell what's triggering them at this point

the old counselor disappears about a week into his first year at AHS (here's some cotg lore for yall) and is replaced by a weird lady who finds a way to bring percy up to every. single. student. who visits her office.

randomly disappears multiple times throughout the year

very very sea green eyes and a gray streak in his hair

once got out of the pool after swim practice and was completely dry (he insists it was a trick of the light)

the blue food obsession ofc

talks about his girlfriend annabeth all the time... even his friends are convinced it's a "my canadian girlfriend" situation bc he never calls her. he doesn't even have a PHONE

always carries around a pen in his pocket and even though it's just a shitty old ballpoint, NOBODY IS ALLOWED TO TOUCH IT. also he never uses it. ever.

every teacher has sent an email with their concerns about him to the counselor and when that doesn't work to his parents. the responses are always very awkward and vague

talks about his bio dad a lot... never explicitly negative but bro clearly has daddy issues lol

will sometimes randomly mention camp/war/gods and then brush it off like it never happened

absolutely vibrated in his seat the entirety of the greek mythology unit... told the teacher "a demigod named perseus fought ares once" and the teacher just assumes he means the og (aka the one he's named after)

that one upbeat popular guy everybody knows absolutely nothing about, his friends included

they probably have a spreadsheet with all the info they actually DO know about him

finds a way to brag about his mom in every conversation no matter how irrelevant... his friends are used to it atp

everyone's so used to seeing him smiling and laughing that when, say, he catches a younger kid being bullied, it's actually terrifying to see how angry he gets. everybody in that hallway gets chills

there's something off about him and nobody can tell what. that's just how he is

sometimes weird people in weird outfits are hanging around the school and they're ALWAYS looking for him.

every time someone asks what college he's going to he gives a different answer or straight up avoids answering so nobody actually knows

(if he says a school and someone is like "omg me too" he changes his answer right then and there lol... he's like "oh nvm i forgot i'm actually going here my bad" and the person is so confused)

nobody ever sees him working on college applications but he complains about having to do them all the time... bro is like "yeah i had to go through a sewer system but at least my girlfriend and my best friend were there" and his friends are like yo HUH

never explains anything he says

presentation night presentation = all the shittiest things my family has done and he's laughing about it but wdym your aunt kidnapped you and gave you amnesia???

sometimes he's getting fed up with a teacher or another student and a pipe randomly bursts in the school. like it's weird how often his anger ends in a plumber being called when he's nowhere near the problem

where everyone else is excited to watch a movie and chill in class, percy complains through the entirety of hercules - not just "oh this movie sucks", more like "god hercules is such a dick, idk why they made him chill in this movie"

the weirdest part is how, when percy complains about zeus being a good dad in the movie, it starts thundering outside

nobody can keep track of how many schools he's been to at this point... there's a whole section of the spreadsheet for this

when percy's friends finally meet annabeth they are SHOOK bc they truly did not think this girl was real

alright i can't think of anything else but if i DO i will add on later

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part twelve

authors note: you guys are seriously the nicest and most supportive. the comments always make me stupidly smile and laugh cause not a single one of ya'll is gonna let bdj die off. 😭 also, i know a couple of people have commented and asked about the backstory with joe and jadah, and i promise it'll be explored deeper. there's a subplot i'm working towards unveiling here, and it's nearing the reveal part, but we're not there yet! i promise, though, it's gonna be touched on!!!

i also had to chop this chapter in half, because it's honestly so much stuff, so the next update shouldn't take as long cause it's almost done.

the next two are gonna be so fun. maybe some shit will go down too. we shall see.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, some angst, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“So let me get this straight, in the time that I’ve been gone, you and Joe told Callie he’s her dad, you found out Amir and Mariah been fucking behind your back, and you had a semi mental breakdown after running into your father and, plot twist, long lost sister.” She counts each off with a finger, then asking. “Did I miss anything?”

Nodding, you take a scoop of your ice cream before adding, “Joe told me he loves me.”

In true Alexis fashion, she randomly arrived in town the night before, completely unaware of all that transpired in her absence. So, you take this time while Callie sleeps to catch her up. 

“Did I miss anything that I didn’t already know?” You give her a look, and she rolls her eyes, also eating some of her Rocky Road. “Come on, Y/N. Ray Charles could see that man is in love with you. You’re the one being stupid by not reciprocating.” Before you can push back against her, even if she isn’t entirely wrong, she switches topics. “Now when are we gonna go beat Lieriah’s ass? I told you it was something about that girl. She’s a snake.”

Typically the one to defend your friends, it’s hard to find it in you to come to Mariah’s aid. Nevermind the fact that she knows the shitty things Amir has done to you over the years, it’s the fact that she’s supposed to be your best friend but is messing around with same ain't shit ex? You would never do something like that to her, but maybe your loyalty to her has always been stronger than hers to you.

“I’m not worried about him or her. They’re not worth it.” That’s partially true, but the sting of betrayal is slow to pass and even slower to heal. You’ve always had mid to low expectations for Amir, but Mariah? That’s a crushing blow. “I have more important things to figure out.”

She studies you, leaning back against the headboard. “Your sister.”

“Bianca,” you correct. It’s too uncomfortable referring to her as such, even if that’s exactly what she is. 

In the weeks since the big fireworks show—both metaphorically and figuratively—you’ve tried to slowly return to your sense of normalcy. Focusing on Callie—who is an entirely different issue in and of itself that you really need to talk to your mom about—being more on top of things at work, and navigating your relationship with Joe.

He hasn’t been back to visit since Christmas, but you figured as such. Wrestlemania season has arrived, and you know better than anyone how crazy that time is, especially with him main eventing. 

But the one thing you haven’t really allowed yourself to think too much about is Bianca. You’d sent her a vague apology text a few days after your mad dash and explained that you were dealing with some things and just needed time to sort through them. That you’d reach back out when you were ready.

That still hasn’t happened, and it’s entirely intentional. 

“I remember you mentioned that you always wanted siblings?”

“Yeah, cause we have so much to bond over,” you mutter, bitterly.

“Well, you actually do have a lot in common. She’s a teacher, like you. She has a daughter, like you—” 

“You know what we don’t have in common?” You interrupt, feeling the agitation growing again. It’s not directed toward Alexis, just the situation in general. “A father who loves us.”

You were done referring to that man as your father. A father shows up. Like Joe. That son of a bitch isn’t even in the same universe as Joe. 

Her expression softens. You didn’t tell her everything, just enough for her to get the gist that he’s a piece of shit. And you definitely did not tell her about the time you went to see him. You’ve never told anyone that story. Joe is now the only one who knows, and you’d like to keep it that way. It’s just….it’s just too painful. “I had no idea that was the situation there…..I’m really sorry, girl.”

“It is what it is. I don’t need him.” And you’re not too sure if you need Bianca either. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should power through this for Callie’s sake. You should have seen how she and Taylor clicked. I would hate to take that away from her.”

“I get that,” she acknowledges. “You have to make the decision that’s best for the long run, not necessarily how you’re feeling right now.” That’s very easy to say and nearly impossible to do. “Even if you just allow the girls to interact while you keep some distance with Bianca.”

You’re partially intrigued, spooning some more cookie dough. “How would that work?”

“They don’t live here, right?” You nod. “Maybe the girls can talk on Facetime or even play some game on their tablets. That won’t cause you to interact much with mom outside of coordinating virtual playdates, and Callie still gets to spend time with her cousin, or, not cousin."

You sit on her words, not expecting to be as open to the idea as you are. It’s a pretty genius compromise. “You really do give some great advice sometimes, you know that?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she smiles mischievously, and you just shake your head. “Now, who’s gonna knock this bitch Mariah over the head with a steel chair? Me or you? Or should we hit her with a bus, Regina George style?”

“Alexis!”

________

You clearly don’t love yourself because you decided to do both yours and Callie’s washday on the same damn day. A Sunday, at that. Meaning, you have no choice but to get it done because you have work the next day.

And Alexis being in town would be even more of a benefit than it already is if she actually knew how to do hair. Natural hair. She can lay any wig down better than Tae, but caring for coils and curls is another story. It’s why you declined her offer, and she lays knocked out in your bed, while Callie is fast asleep in hers. 

Thankfully, you have an insanely generous and sweet man who’s offered to talk to you while you power through this debacle, noodle arms, sleep deprivation, and all.

“Oh, before I forget again.” You grab the bottle of leave-in to apply more to the next section of hair. Shingling may give you the most definition, but it also gives you the most discomfort. “Can you be here May 8th?” A smile falls on your face. “Our baby is graduating preschool, and I know she’d want you there. I do too.”

“Shit, they have preschool graduations?” He seems genuinely taken back before answering. “But, of course I’ll be there.”

“I know. I used to think they were stupid, but now it’s my kid, so it’s the best thing ever. Her cap and gown should come some time in March, so I’m gonna have one of my old teammates who’s a photographer take professional photos of her.” It’s literally just preschool, but that’s still something she’s accomplished, and you want to commend the occasion the best you can. It’s been years since you’ve had professional photos of her taken anyway. Not since she was first born. “And yes, I’ll get extra for you.”

“How much—”

“Anyways, let me show you the tattoo.” Joe has already done so much, the least you can do is cover the photo costs. Even though you know him well enough to know he’ll find some way to contribute. Thankfully, the side of your hair that still needs to be shingled is clipped at the top of your head, so all you have to do is turn around and push down the thin strap of your shirt to reveal your latest ink. “He did an amazing job.”

“Shit, he did.” Joe’s agreement and approval somehow makes you even more satisfied with the outcome. Your Christmas gift to yourself was finally getting that Moana tattoo Callie has wanted to see on you since you told her you were getting one damn near a year ago. It’s on the back of your left shoulder, a black manta ray, some blue ocean-like coloring with one of your favorite lyrics from the movie: I will carry you here in my heart. You remind me, that come what may, I know the way. 

It’s one of Callie’s favorite songs but also feels like an ode to your grandma as well. 

He then asks, “do you want more?”

Readjusting your shirt and turning back around, you answer, “of course. More Disney but also….” This discussion triggers something for you, something that seems a little out there, but also maybe not. “I saw this tattoo on Pinterest that I want to get for Callie.” You grab your phone. “Let me send it to you.” It’s saved in your favorites folder and thus an easy send. Placing the phone back on the counter, you wait for him to receive and see it.

“I like it.” It’s a baby’s footprint with the name written in cursive and date of birth in print right underneath it. You’ve always wanted Callie’s name on you but couldn’t settle on a design until you came across that one. Something about it just resonates with you. 

Licking your lips, you suggest, “why don’t you get it with me?” Couples getting matching tattoos isn’t something you’re entirely against, you just don’t agree with it for people who are only dating and not married, if marriage is the goal. You remember when Amir once suggested you do so, and you literally laughed in his face. You’d soon rather get branded with a tramp stamp than have that man’s name permanently burned into your skin.

But, matching tattoos for the child you created together with the man you love. That is something you could get behind. 

And apparently so can he.

“Let’s do it.”

“Really?” You’re not sure why, but the ease of his agreement shocks you. It’s not too far-fetched when you think about it. He loves his daughter, and you’ve always known Joe to only get tattoos that have meaning. He could give you a detailed explanation for every piece of ink on his body. 

“Yeah.” There’s almost a sense of excitement in his voice, like he’s eager to have her name on him, to share this with you. “Same location?” At that, you make a face. He laughs. “Inner bicep does hurt, I’m not even gon’ lie to you.”

Yeah, you’ve definitely heard as such, and considering his entire right side is tatted, he’d know. “I don’t know. I have to think about it. I might need to squeeze your hand the whole time, or I’ll end up punching the tattooist.”

He laughs, “you can squeeze my hand.” Joe then asks, “when do you want to get em’ done?” You start to think about it logistically, as well as financially. Tattoos aren’t cheap. “Do you want to go to the Super Bowl?”

His question surprises you because it’s such a change in topics but also….what? “Yup. And Hawaii and Puerto Rico. And then maybe if we have time, stop by Alice in Wonderland.”

He’s too good at matching your sass, retorting, “I can make the first two happen easily. The last one may be a stretch.” Rolling your eyes, you grab for the gel. “I’m serious though. My tattoo artist is based out of Vegas. The game is in Vegas this year. It’ll let me see Callie too, cause I’m having a hard time finding a gap to visit.” As he continues to speak without laughing or chuckling, you realize he’s dead serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to go anyway but kept forgetting.”

You need extra clarification. “Like this year's Usher concert where there’s apparently a game too?”

He rolls his eyes, providing the guest list. “It’s me and the twins, their family, some other fam…..we have a whole section, cause you know it's a bunch of us.” It’s still hard to sit on the fact that this man really just invited you to the fucking Super Bowl like it’s dinner at Golden Coral. His eyes soften. “I wanna see her. I wanna see you.”

Joe’s closing statement, so true and vulnerable, is what breaks you from your temporary state of shock. You get the sense he misses ya’ll just as much as you miss him. “Of course, we’ll go. I’m sorry, I just—I wasn’t expecting that.” And it’s true, you weren’t. “How will we get fl—”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything. I just need you to show up at the airport.”

That seems to be such a recurring theme with this man. He does everything he can to make things as easy for you as possible. It’s tremendously appreciated and doesn’t go without notice. 

“This is the first time she’ll be meeting the twins,” you realize aloud. Hell, his family at all. 

Joe nods, chuckling. “Yeah, they’ve been on my ass about that anyway. They want to meet her.”

Pinning down the section you just finished, you take down the next. A little over halfway done now. “Whoever you want her to meet is fine with me, Joe. I don’t even really have a say in that. She has every right to meet your family just as much as she’s had to meet mine.”

And it’s true. Unless it could present some harm to Callie, you don’t really feel like you have the right to object to things like that. You have zero desire to interfere with Joe and Callie anymore than you already have. 

“I know. I just wanted to tell her the truth before introducing her to anyone else. Less lies.” Makes sense. Thinking about Callie meeting more family brings a small smile to your face. It’s what she deserves. Family members who actually want to be in her life.

The conversation brings something else to the forefront of your mind, partially due to Joe’s confession to you on Christmas but also a question you’ve wanted to ask him for much longer than you’d like to admit. 

“So….” This shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it is. “There’s something I want to ask you, but I don’t…..I don’t want to overstep.” If he were to tell you that he’d rather you not, that’d be fine with you, one less stressful thing on your plate. But, of course, he’s silent, meaning he’s not going to object. So….you decide to bite the bullet and go for it. “What happened between you and your wife?”

You’re certain he wasn’t expecting that to be what you asked, but to your surprise, he answers. “We were young and got married for the wrong reason. I was 22. She was 21.”

Unsure but taking a big risk regardless, you ask in a small voice. “What was the reason?”

His answer isn’t what you’re expecting either. “She was pregnant.”

It takes a second for you to process what he’s saying. Your stomach is suddenly in knots, chest feeling tight. There’s no way he’s kept something like that from you. No way in hell. “Wait, does Callie have—”

“No.”

And just like that, you know. He doesn’t need to explain. It’s painfully obvious, especially as he looks away from the camera. You have a feeling you've unlocked a painful memory he’d most likely kept tucked away. 

“I’m sorry.” It feels so stupid and unhelpful to say. What does that do for him? It doesn’t take away that experience, that loss that you can’t even begin to imagine. But, it’s all you can offer. “Just—forget I asked, let’s change the subject.” Do you have more questions? Of course. Like, why was there such a gap between their loss and the divorce? But, this is understandably a difficult and sensitive subject, and the last thing you want to do is trigger him more than you already have.

You know better than anyone how awful that can be. 

He agrees with the subject change, going along with the transition of topics, clearly grateful for your understanding. But, in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think about the fact that this man lost his firs child before he could even meet the them, and the child he had who did survive was kept a secret from him for nearly five years.

There’s a sudden sickness and disgust you feel. And it’s not towards anyone but yourself. 

Joe had every goddamn right to be furious with you about your subterfuge.

He still does. ________

“Mama, something is up with Callie.”

You’re thankful Alexis agreed to keep Callie preoccupied in the living room while you have this conversation with your mom, because Callie had another incident just this morning, slamming her door when you told her she needed to pick up her toys.

She’s never done that.

But she has done other things in the past two weeks or so, rolling her eyes or pouting her mouth at you when you say something she doesn’t want to hear, beyond typical tantrums. 

Your mom stops her stirring at the pot to turn around and look at you. “What do you mean? Is she sick?”

“No,” you answer and then realize you’re not entirely sure how to explain it. She’s not being bad, per se. Just….difficult. “She’s just been…..off.”

Genuinely intrigued, and partially concerned, you watch your mom turn the fire on low as she joins you at the kitchen table. “Tell me.”

Shaking your head, you explain. “I thought it was just me, that I was just being overprotective and hyper-vigilant, but when I picked her up from preschool yesterday, her teacher pulled me to the side and asked me if she’s been having sleep problems. I told her no and asked why, and she told me Callie has been irritable. With staff and other kids.”

“Callie?” Your mom seems just as taken back as you were hearing these words. “That doesn’t even sound like her.”

“I know, and that’s what I said at first, but then I thought about it, and she’s been crabby with me too. It’s not horrible, but it’s unlike her.”

A small part of you wonders if it has something to do with you running off on her on Christmas. It would make sense. She was doing absolutely fine before then, but it’s the timing that throws that theory off. You’ve noticed this change only in the past two weeks, well after Christmas day passed, so why the delay?

“What does Joe think it is?”

“I haven’t told him.” It’s not that you don’t want to. You’d just like to have a better grasp of what it is before doing so. Have more actual information to provide him.

“He hasn’t seen the behavior for himself?”

You shake your head. “She’s fine with him. Matter of fact, after his calls, she’s like a completely different child.” It’s watching your mom’s face settle into a look of realization that makes you ask, “what? What is it?”

“Honey” she starts with a soft chuckle. “She’s missing her daddy.”

Her answer catches you by surprise, painting your face with confusion. You’ve had a lot of theories, but that definitely wasn’t one of them. “What?”

Reaching across the table, she places her hand over yours. “Think about it. How would she react if you were gone as much as he is? She’d be a mess, cause you’re her mama, and she has a strong attachment to you. Look how easily she attached and connected with Joe. It’s always been there. Except she knows the truth now, so her attachment is even stronger.” You heed to her explanation, wise and sensible. You hadn’t even thought of it that way. “And isn’t this the longest he’s been gone without her seeing him? She’s acting out because she misses him and probably doesn’t know how to verbalize it, so it shows in her behavior.”

As relieved as you are to have an explanation that makes sense, it’s an explanation that makes you incredibly sad for your sweet child. You know how hard it is for Joe to get away right now, you understand it. It never crossed you that she wouldn’t. 

Devastated, you ask, “what do I do?”

“Talk to her. Try to help her understand. It may not make a huge difference, but it’s something.”

You nod, so so grateful for her, for all that she does for you, for Callie. For all that she’s done. Reaching across the table, you hug her tightly. “thank you, mama.” As much as it devastated you to not have that man in your life, your mom made sure to go above and beyond to make sure you knew you were loved. She played both roles beautifully, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to make her understand what that meant to you. 

You still haven’t really sat her down and explained everything that happened Christmas night, nor has she asked, but you know it’s because she’s trying to respect your space. It’s appreciated, but you also know you’re gonna have to eventually tell her.

Just not now.

Right now, you’ve gotta take care of your baby.

________

Even the energy in Callie’s playroom feels off.

You’re so used to walking in and finding her with that million dollar smile that makes your entire day better. Instead, you walk in and she doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. She just continues to color. 

“Hey, baby….” Disappointed, but refusing to show as such, you welcome yourself in and approach her table. “Is it okay if I color with you?” 

She still doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you do your best not to hide your sadness. You hate seeing her this down, it’s so unfamiliar, and you’ll do just about anything to fix it. 

Sitting down in the uncomfortable seat, you take a couple of her pages and pull out a crayon. “I have an idea.” At that, she looks up, slightly intrigued. “Why don’t we draw how we’ve been feeling lately? I draw me, and you draw you.” 

You scold yourself for not selling it to her better, for not telling her it’s something you sometimes do with your students. Some level of innocent peer pressure. However, she surprises you by agreeing with a simple “okay.”

It takes a second for you to register that it was really that simple. Step one is done. Now for step two. 

Grabbing some crayons, you don’t really concern yourself with skin tone, just getting something out on paper. The two of you color in silence, and you start to offer to put on her favorite playlist but decide against it. 

You want her to really think about what you’re asking. 

It’s when you see that she’s placed down her crayon and is just staring at her picture that you ask, “you done?” She shakes her head, but her eyes are on the table in front of her. “Is it okay if mommy sees it? I’ll show you mine too.”

Handing you the page, you expect an influx of emotions, but actually seeing her literal representation of how she feels is simply heartbreaking. 

She’s drawn herself, frowning, surrounded by broken hearts and a blue tear leaking from her eye. Callie did what you asked. You just wish it didn’t have you feeling so helpless.

“This means you’ve been feeling sad, huh?” You hate how your voice gives away your emotions. This is about her, not you, but it’s so difficult for you to not be impacted. No mother wants to see her child hurting, and Callie currently is. It kills you. “Callie….” Moving up from your chair, you move across to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in yours. “Have you been sad because you miss your dad?”

All you need to hear is one sniffle, and instantly, you’re reaching for her, holding and comforting her.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby.” She cries into your chest, and you have to hold back your own tears.

“Why doesn't he come back?” She asks in between tears, wiping her eyes. “He’s been gone a really long time.” It’s only then you realize that she’s not entirely exaggerating. Joe was last here for Christmas. It’s now the end of January. For a child like Callie, that must feel like an eternity.

“He would if he could, Callie. I promise you he would. Daddy just…he gets really busy with his job this time of the year, and he can’t leave or he’ll get in trouble.” It’s so difficult to explain this to her. WrestleMania season is inarguably chaotic and stupidly busy. Even back in the day, Joe’s trips to see you were most far and few in between during this time of year. And that was before he even had a title. You can’t even imagine how busy he must be as the literal fucking face of the company.

Enough to keep him from being able to come see you and Callie. 

You’ve just gotten so used to the dynamics of him being away for periods at a time that it never occurred to you Callie hasn’t had the same experience. That at the end of the day she’s still a little kid who just wants to be with her dad. 

It’s then that a thought crosses your mind.

“What if…..what if we went to see daddy?” For the first time since you stepped into the room, her eyes actually light up and you notice her tears lessening. “Instead of him coming to us, we go see him?”

“Really?” There’s the faintest smile on her face, and you know then that you’re going to make this happen. You don’t know how or in what way, but it will be a reality. No matter what it takes. 

“Yeah,” you answer, brushing away some of her tears. “You can go see him at his show. He’d love that.” Not as much as she clearly loves the idea alone. “Now, we’d only be able to stay a day or maybe two but—”

“Please,” she interrupts, and you get the sense that she fears you’re going to find a way to say that you couldn’t or shouldn’t go. “I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”

“Baby, you’re already the best girl.” You push back some of her hair, resting your hand against her cheek. “Mama’s gonna make it happen, okay? I promise.”

If you have to sell one of your kidneys, then you’ll just be less one organ, because you’re getting your baby to that damn show. Matter of fact, you don’t say anything to her, but you’re wondering if you can make it to this week’s upcoming show. It’s only Sunday, and that gives you a couple of days to make arrangements and secure tickets. It’s doable, but you don’t want to get her hopes up, so just in case, you say nothing.

And yes, in the back of your mind, you know she’ll see Joe in a couple of weeks for the game, but that’s too long. Your child is hurting. You need to do something now. She can’t wait that long. 

“Thank you, mommy!” She wraps her little arms around you, and just like that, you see the spark and joy that fills your days with light and laughter. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.” Kissing her temple, you release her, realizing something else. “Now we can't tell your daddy because we’re gonna surprise him, okay? Can you do that for me?”

She nods, happily, unaware of the real reason. You know that you can’t tell Joe about this. Well, not now at least. This is not something to be discussed over the phone or even video chat. And if you tell him you want to take her to see him as soon as possible, he’ll know something is up. 

So, you have to move in silence. 

Coloring with Callie commences for a little longer as you value and cherish your time with her, but as soon as she’s down for her nap and before you wake Alexis from hers to tell her the news, you need to do something. It’s in that time bonding with her you realized how you’re going to make this happen.

You’re suddenly immensely grateful for that random conversation you’d had with Joe a while back regarding the fact that he and the twins have had the same phone number since they were in high school.

Pulling out your phone, you scroll through your contacts until you land on the one you need. You type, backspace, and type some more, only sending out the text once you’re fully pleased with it.

You: Hey, Jon. This is Y/N. Can you call me when you get a chance? Preferably sooner rather than later. I need your help with something. And please don’t tell Joe. It’s a surprise. 

________

God clearly wants you to bring Callie to see Joe. 

There’s just too many things that have lined up perfectly for that not to be the case. The discussion with your principal went well, though that wasn’t entirely surprising. You’ve always had a cordial relationship and know she respected your grandma. The whole school system in your town did. That was just her level of impact. But that respect has slid down to work in your favor as your principal told you to take as much time as you need.

“You’ll always have a job here.”

While not a huge concern, it’s reassuring and not entirely unsurprising. Again, your grandma’s impact definitely granted you a level of nepotism. You were slightly surprised when she actually encouraged you to take more time off, pointing out how in the almost nine years you’ve worked there, she could count on one hand how much PTO or vacation time you’ve used. And, it’s true. It was really only when Callie was sick and your mom couldn't help or you wanted to stay home and nurse her back to health that you called out. For the most part, you had damn near perfect attendance.

But, that’s certainly about to change, and you’re thankful you have a job that’s flexible enough to accommodate the change. 

And then there’s the actual getting there. You should have known when Alexis was asking questions about when you and Callie were leaving that she was up to something. You naively chalked it up to her planning her flight out, as there was no way you expected her to wait around for ya’ll to get back. Instead, she was busy buying not just her ticket to come with ya’ll but yours and Callie’s as well.

You instantly felt bad when she forwarded you the itinerary information. You couldn’t see the cost, but you weren’t stupid either. Getting flights out with such short notice had to be expensive as all outdoors. You were just going to put the bill on your credit card and work to pay it off. And, of course, when you offered to pay her back, she nearly cussed you out. As if such an offer was insulting. 

“What good is a trust fund if you can’t spend it on your college roomie and pretend godchild?”

So, while you still felt slightly uncomfortable, you were able to push it to the backburner for the sake of Callie. This is all for her, and you don’t care what it takes to make it happen. Even if it means sucking up your pride. 

And deep down, you know if Alexis didn’t do what she did, Joe would somehow find a way to compensate you. The same way his ass somehow got his card on file at the hospital and covered all of Callie’s medical bills without ever even asking you if you needed help.

You still haven’t talked to him about that, not really having or finding the right time, but it also feels a bit bitchy and ungrateful to be upset with the man for covering his daughter’s medical expenses. 

Then there’s the actual show itself. One thing you were initially concerned about was if Joe has a match lined up for this upcoming week’s show. You two have only had a couple of discussions about it but still enough for you to learn that he’s extremely hesitant to expose Callie to his wrestling persona. 

“I don’t want her seeing me like that, thinking that’s who I am.”

And you understand him fully. Roman may be a fascinating character, but he’s equally narcissistic and ruthless as he is intriguing. The complete opposite of Joe and who he is. 

Still, you’ve worked to help him understand that talking to Callie, explaining to her that he’s playing a “character” could help her understand better. You both are in agreement that she’s too young to watch actual matches, especially his as they tend to get brutal, but she can see certain promos. And she does. You let her watch a couple where the dialogue is safe enough to go over her head. And truth be told, she’s so focused on watching Joe that she's not really paying attention to what’s being said anyway. 

Needless to say, you were massively relieved to hear from Jon that Joe doesn't have a match lined up and his promo is reportedly tame and safe enough for Callie’s eyes and ears. He didn’t give specifics, but from one parent to another parent, you trust his judgment. 

And the most important thing of all is the fact that Callie has done a complete 180. She’s no longer as irritable, just the usual attitude when she’s sleepy or hungry. Just like her mama. And there’s that spark of joy in her eyes. She’s even started packing what she wants to bring with her. She knows you’ll only be there for one night, but even that can’t seem to dim her joy. 

It makes your heart swell. 

All of this brings you to your conclusion that you’re doing exactly what you should be doing. 

“Ahhh, and here it is.” The old woman’s voice breaks you from your inner dialogue as she walks toward the counter, returning from the back. “Sorry about that sweetheart.”

“No worries, Mrs. Ella.” Your eyes light when you see the item in her hand, even if it’s covered by a cloth bag. The fact that it’s ready is more than enough to make you smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this.”

She waves off your concern, offering a warm smile. “Your grandma was one of my best friends. As far as I’m concerned, anything you need is a done deal.”

That warms your heart. Mrs. Ella has been the town seamstress for longer than you’ve been alive but doesn’t look a day over 50. She’s not lying either. Your grandma always cited her as one of her “life” sisters. 

“Why don’t we take a look to make sure it’s alright?” She offers, removing the item from the garment bag. She takes the hoodie and turns it over so you can see the back.

In awe, you acknowledge, “it’s perfect.”

Among the many things Joe has gifted Callie, WWE apparel hasn’t really been included in that list. You’ve chalked it up to his hesitation about familiarizing her with his Roman persona. However, you know that girl loves her daddy and will support him in all the things, so you took it upon yourself to pick her up a few items over the holidays. One of those things being a black hoodie with Roman’s picture on the front with him wearing one of his head of the table shirts. Wanting to make it special and personal, you had the idea of customizing it. Thus, asking Mrs. Ella to add to the back, Acknowledge my daddy!, and she did a fabulous job. It looks like that was the original design. 

Pulling out your wallet, you ask, “how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

Your eyes snap to her. “Mrs. Ella, no, this was a rush—”

“Don’t argue with your elders, child,” she scolds, and you smile warmly. “Just show me a picture of her wearing it, and we’ll be even.”

Moved by her generosity, you offer your gratitude again. “Thank you, Mrs. Ella. Seriously. Thank you.” 

Hand over yours, she just nods and then ushers you out the door, “well, you better get a move on child.” 

With a small laugh and one more thank you, you leave out with the hoodie, excited to show Callie and even more, to see Joe’s reaction when he sees her wearing it.

“Y/N?”

Fuck. You’d know that voice anywhere, have known it since you were five years old. 

That doesn’t mean you have to heed to it.

You keep walking. 

A stupid decision, because the footsteps behind you become louder and faster as she asks, exasperated, “would you just talk to me?”

You spin around, suddenly pissed at her repeated question. “Why? Why should I talk to you?” 

You’ve dodged and ignored her texts the same way she did yours, so what’s the issue now? Being on the receiving end must be one hell of an unpleasant experience for her. Not that you give two shits. Mariah is the last thing on your plate right now.

Mariah seems taken back, and that just pisses you off more. How can she not see her wrong in this situation? “You’re my best friend, Y/N. We’ve been friends since we were in kindergarten. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Did it mean something to you when you were fucking Amir?”

Something you can’t identify flashes in her eyes followed by apparent hurt. “Are you serious right now? You’d really believe him over me.” It’s hard to tell how sincere her watery eyes are or if they’re performative. You’ve never known her to be fake, but then again, maybe you’ve never really known her at all. “That’s fucked up.”

Finding some level of compassion and understanding for the woman you called your best friend for almost your entire life, you try to offer her the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, let’s say you’re not fucking him. At the very least, you’ve been telling him my business while ignoring my texts and calls. Like, what the fuck, Mo?” 

She shakes her head. “He came to me, worried about you—”

“He came to you nosy and upset because I cut it off with him, and you fell into his trap.” How she can possibly fall for Amir’s bullshit is beyond you. She knows how he is. Hell, she’s been right beside you, up until recent weeks/months, dealing with his bullshit. So, her excuse is just that—an excuse. “And even if he was, as my best friend, you should know that’s still girl code violation.”

It feels almost silly citing that, but the morals behind it still ring true. You would never talk to Caleb about things going on in her life when you know they’re not on good terms. And you damn sure would never fuck him. 

“Girl code?That’s funny coming from you, because you didn’t seem to to care about girl code when you were fucking another woman’s husband and had a whole ass baby for him.”

Her words stop you dead in your tracks. Any facial expression you may have been showing is dropped and neutral. Even your voice is softer, less accusatory. “Excuse me?” 

For her to say that to you, knowing how sensitive a subject that is truly takes you by surprise. Truly. 

It doesn’t stop there though. “I mean, forreal, Y/N. You’re up in my face about Amir, but aren’t you still fucking Joe? Shit, how many niggas do you need?” It’s hard to believe the words coming out her mouth, so angry and hostile. But, even her volume rising has you stumped. It’s like she wants to draw an audience. “It’s not enough to be one man’s whore, but you still gotta have another on the side?”

Truly baffled, all you can ask is, “where is this coming from?” 

She sucks her teeth, just as irritated, if not more by your question. “It’s always been this shit with you. You do whatever the fuck you want and don’t care who you hurt or betray in the process!”

And now you’re just straight up confused, because what have you ever done to her? Cause that’s what it sounds like she’s implying. Like you’ve done her wrong. Like you’ve been doing her wrong. “What are you even talking about?”

“You got Joe. You got Amir. Shit, when is enough enough for you?” She scoffs, and it’s hard for you to even look at her let alone listen to all the hurtful things she’s spewing. “Like damn, find a new hobby. Focus on raising your kid—”

And that…..that is the moment that you’re no longer confused, or hurt, or saddened to hear your best friend say such awful things. You’re pissed. Cause one thing no one can convince you you’re not, is a good mother. You’ve dedicated your entire life and being to taking care of Callie, making sure she’s straight. That’s always been your priority, and for her to suggest otherwise….those are really fighting words. 

You step toward her, finding all of the will in the world not to shatter her jaw. “You and I have so much history. It is the only reason I’m not whooping your ass right now, but know this, Mariah. This was your freebie. Fuck with me again, speak on my child again, and I’ll bash your fucking head into the nearest wall.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. “Stay away from me, bitch.”

You don’t give her time to respond or even yourself the chance to lay her out, you instead rush to your car, locking the door and speeding out of the parking lot. 

Your knuckles are nearly white with how tightly you’re gripping the steering wheel.

It’s been a while since you’ve been this hot. Years maybe. Amir would piss you off, sure, but never to the extent of your emotions in this moment. It truly took all resolve and imagining Callie’s disappointed face at not being able to see her dad  because you got yourself locked up for aggravated assault to keep you from beating Mariah’s ass. She knows better than anyone that you don’t play about your daughter, so for her to include Callie in her mud slinging is not only repugnant but hurtful.

She’s supposed to be Callie’s godmother. 

But beyond that, you’re having a hard time reconciling with the rest of the things she was saying. It didn’t feel like something that’s been building up over the past few months. No, this was different. Much…..deeper.

Regardless, you don’t have time to deal with this shit. You need to put your focus on preparing to bring your little girl to see her dad. 

Mariah can fuck off. 

She’s always been all bark and no bite anyway. 

________

“Mommy.”

Callie doesn’t even have to say anything else for you to know a request is to follow. 

“What's up, sis?”

She climbs on top of where you lay on the sofa, you and Alexis watching some random dating show she swears up and down is the best thing since Love is Blind. So far, you’re entirely unimpressed. Granted, reality shows of any kind have never been your cup of tea in the first place. 

Your YouTube history is mostly crime documentaries and Bloodline videos. 

She climbs on top of you, throwing her arms up and shouting, “dance party!”

Of all her typical requests, that’s one you haven’t heard in a while. 

You’ve always raised Callie with music, even back when you were pregnant, you would take your Beats and place them on your belly. It’s seemingly worked because this child loves music, so much so that you two would have random “dance party’s” where you’d blast music and dance around, no care in the world, just the two of you.

You haven’t had one in a while, but seeing Callie so happy, a stark contrast from how she’s been is more than enough to get you up and on your feet. You look over at Alexis. “Come on, Lex, it’s dance party time.” 

She feigns a gasp, looking at Callie for approval. “Do I get to come to this party?”

Callie giggles and jumps on the sofa. “Of course! Everyone can come to dance party!”

What’s also ironically funny is the fact that you and Alexis used to have dance parties all the time in your dorm, just often with much more explicit Travis Porter, Speaker Knockerz, type music and a lot of ass shaking.

“Well tonight, it’s just the three of us,” you laugh, grabbing your phone and opening your Spotify to figure out what will be your kickoff song. It’s when your eyes land on that one though, you know you’ve found it.

Connecting your phone to your Bluetooth, you confirm the connection and hit play. 

We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have traveled land and sea

But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be

“My favorite white girl song ever!” Alexis shouts, starting to dance with Callie who’s just as excited about your selection. Together, the three of you dance and sing when the iconic chorus hits. 

If you gave me a chance I would take it

It's a shot in the dark but I'll make it

Know with all of your heart, you can't shake me

When I am with you, there's no place I'd rather be

At some point, Alexis grabs your phone, recording and capturing the laughter and joy you experience dancing and being silly with your very, very best friend. Callie’s laughter could revive any soul, and it’s so genuine. Even more, you know a large chunk of it is her excitement to see her dad in a couple of days.

And that makes it all the more special. 

Eventually needing a break and time to catch your breath, you laugh as the song ends and the next one starts. Lex and Callie immediately go at it for round two, spinning around and dancing to Dance the Night. 

You take a second to check your phone, seeing that you have a Snapchat from Joe. Frowning, you open the message confused as to why he’s using that and not just text. He only has the damn app because you made him get it. He’s not very big on social media outside of occasional Instagram posts. 

Swiping it open, you see why he was messaging you on there.

Because your wonderful best friend sent him the video she recorded of the three of you dancing.

Joe: How do I save this?

Joe: Fuck it. It’s too confusing. Just send it to me.

Laughing, you chew on your bottom lip and type out a reply.

You: You’re such an old man. 😩 

You: But yes, I’ll send it, even if I didn’t know Alexis was recording to send it to you...

You: Callie loves “dance parties” lol 

Joe: I love her laugh. She looks so happy…

You: I know. ❤️ She loves music. Def my kid.

You: Skillet is next on the queue, btw. 🙃

Joe: Don’t know what that is, but if I had to take a guess, it’s some rock shit.

You: You know me so well. 😊

Joe: Of course, baby.

Leaving his thread, you realize that if she sent it to Joe, she probably posted it to your private story as well, which is fine. You only have people on there you know and trust to keep the contents within that space.

But, it’s in checking the views that you see Mariah not only watched but screen recorded your story. It’s strange, normally you wouldn’t think twice about it. She’s always screenshotted and screen recorded stuff you posted, and you did the same with Micah. 

But now…..

Now, it feels wrong to share these moments with her. She’s lost that privilege. 

Moving to your contacts, you ignore her old Snapchat name she never uses anymore and instead just block her primary one from seeing your stories, and that includes close friends. And interestingly enough, when you check your texts, you see one from her muted thread that momentarily causes you to pause.

Mariah: Kinda stupid to ice out the one person who knows everything about you. 

But the pause comes and goes, Mariah always says shit, and that’s where it stops, the saying. She’s always been the mouse of you two, and that shit ain’t changed.

Closing up the app, you switch back to Spotify and focus on what’s before you and not behind you.

You have all the people you need in your life. 

Mariah can fuck off.

[estrellami-1]

We’ll Help You

Started as Steve and Robin platonic soulmate fluff. Devolved into *vaguely waves hands* whatever the fuck this is. I considered writing more but realized it would very quickly become Just Words, instead of a story, and I want y’all to have this because personally I think Steve and Robin are Goals in this one. As it is, there will not be a part 2 to this one… at least, not one written by me! If y’all want to do something by with this, go right ahead; just tag me in it!

“Bye, Mom, Dad, I’m going to Steve’s!” Robin calls into the house.

“Have fun!” Her mother calls back.

“Use protection!” Her dad yells.

“Dick!” Her mother yells back.

“That’s what I’m saying!” He says.

Melissa sighs. “Richard,” she says, faux-sweetly, “Robin and Steve are not together. She’s told us this many times.”

“Yeah, and neither were we when you-”

“Richard!” Melissa takes a breath. “Bye, Robin. Have fun, okay?”

“Okay,” Robin says, and closes the door, getting into Steve’s car with wide eyes.

He chuckles at her expression. “You good?”

“My parents have scarred me.”

Steve makes a face. “What, did you walk in on them?”

“No, they were talking about when they had me! I don’t need to know this, Steven!” She hisses back.

Steve just snorts, shakes his head, and drives on.

Robin is suddenly hit with a familiar, unwelcome pain. “Fuck,” she hisses, bending over and clutching her stomach. “Steve? I need to turn around.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong?”

She wants to cry. “I, uh. Just started? And I didn’t bring anything with me.”

“Oh.” A pause, “What medicine do you usually take?”

She blinks. “Um. Advil?”

“Okay. Then I’ve got you covered.”

“No- Steve, it’s not just-”

“Robin,” he says calmly, “I’ve got you covered. I’ve got supplies at home.”

She blinks at him. “Since when?”

His cheeks pinken. “Since we became friends? I just… I dunno. I knew we were gonna be forever, y’know? And I want you to have access to anything you’ll need. So I got some stuff.”

“What the fuck,” she whispers, tears beading in her eyes. “What the fuck, Steve, I’m gonna cry, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Steve shrugs. “I just want you to have what you need.”

She sniffles and leans her head against the window. “Fuck, I love you.”

Steve smiles, puts a hand on her arm, squeezes gently. “Love you too, Robin.”

They get back to his house and get settled in on the couch. “I’ve got a heating pad, if you want it,” Steve offers.

Robin blinks at him. “Marry me.”

Steve laughs. “I thought that’s exactly what we’re trying to convince your parents isn’t happening.”

“I don’t care,” she responds, groaning in relief when she positions the heating pad. She collapses back into the corner of the couch. “I want to have a dick.”

Steve laughs. “You can’t even look at a dick, Robin.”

“I could if it was mine,” she argues nonsensically.

“You don’t want a dick,” he assures her, then pauses. “If you were a guy, would you still like girls? Or would you still be gay?”

“I… don’t know,” she says, thinking. “I mean, there’s people who were born one gender and are the other now, right? And they still like the same gender. So I would too.”

“Okay, but are we talking you were born a guy? Or you’d turn into a guy? Cause if you were born a guy, that might change things.”

Robin groans in frustration. “I wouldn’t care, as long as Satan stopped throwing parties in my uterus every month.”

Steve snickers. “I can’t fix that, but I do have chocolate ice cream.”

“And again I say, marry me.”

He smiles at her, affection shining through. “We’d be the best platonic husband and wife ever.”

Robin smiles, best she can through the pain. “Only if I’m the husband.”

“Okay,” Steve shrugs. “I can be the wife.” He pauses for a second, then asks, “Is that… is that something you’d want? Being a guy?”

Robin hums. “No. Much as I hate certain things that come with being a woman, I definitely wouldn’t want to be a guy.” Steve hums, frowning, and Robin shifts on the couch. “Hold on,” she says, “I know that look. What’re you thinking?”

“Just…” he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t get what the big deal is? I don’t have super strong feelings about being a guy. There’s nothing telling me, this is who you’re supposed to be.”

“Okay,” Robin says slowly, carefully, “and how about your feelings on being a girl?”

Steve shrugs. “Same. I don’t care either way.”

“Huh,” Robin says, and leans back. “That’s… I mean, that’s okay, obviously, but that’s not… what a guy would typically say.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Right, ‘cause you’re such an expert on guys.”

Robin groans and thinks her head on the cushion. “Okay, so call someone. Call Eddie, he’d know, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve says, and hops up from the couch. “Hey, while I’m over here, should I order a pizza?”

Robin snickers. “Call Eddie first. Maybe he’ll come over and it’ll be the three of us. Actually, don’t even tell him, just invite him over. I wanna see his face when you tell him.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Robs. Eddie, hey! Wanna come over? Pizza and ice cream with me and Robin?”

Robin hisses at him, so he says, “Sorry, ice cream’s been spoken for, actually. Wait, Robs, are you sure? The whole tub?”

“Do not test me, Steven,” comes her response.

“Yeah, okay. Yeah, if you want to get one for the two of us to share, that would be great. See you in twenty? Okay, cool. I’ll order the pizza. Bye!”

He orders the pizza without a hitch. He’s promised delivery within fifteen minutes and wanders back over to the couch, where he grins at Robin. “Wanna pick a movie before Eddie gets here and can veto it?”

Robin grins back. “You know I’m gonna pick something you hate.”

“I know.” His smile turns more genuine. “As long as you’re happy.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

He waves her off. “Course you do. You gonna pick?”

“I’m surprised you doubted me,” she says, and picks something he hadn’t realized he had.

The pizza arrives a short minute before Eddie does. They all eat before Robin makes Steve and Eddie sit so she can recap everything.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, shrugging. “I just don’t care.”

“So our question is,” Robin says, “do you? Is there something in you that says you’re a guy, or would be wrong as a girl?”

“Definitely,” Eddie nods, studying Steve. “Y’know there’s people in between? Who aren’t really a guy or a girl?”

Steve’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. “They go by they or them, and a lot of times they’ll change their name to be something more in-between too, like Avery or Taylor.”

“Huh,” Steve says, tipping his head back to stare through the ceiling as he thinks. “So… so if I were to do that… and maybe go by Stevie-”

“Then we’d call you Stevie,” Eddie nods. “We’d say they’re so cool, they have a nailbat, I’m so glad I’m friends with them.”

“Oh,” Steve says. His voice is shaky.

“Stevie,” Robin murmurs. “You’re crying.”

“Oh,” he says again, wiping his face and giving a little laugh. “Sorry. I dunno why. I think… that makes sense.” They look at Eddie, then Robin, holds eye contact when they say, “That’s who I am.”

Robin’s tearing up, too. “Nice to meet you, Stevie,” she whispers.

They choke out a little laugh and move to sit next to her, pulling her into a hug. “Love you, Robbie.”

“You too,” she whispers. “Hey, can I still call you dingus?”

Stevie laughs. “Sure, Robs.”

“Cool.” She beams and pulls them into a tight hug. “‘M glad you figured this out.”

Stevie giggles. “Me too.” They turn to Eddie, “Thanks for helping me figure this out.”

Eddie smiles warmly at them. “Anytime,” he promises. “And hey, now that you know, there’s plenty you can do, if you want to.”

Stevie furrows their brows. “Like what?”

“Well, you could grow your hair out, or cut it. You could change your wardrobe. You could get makeup, if you wanted. Anything that’ll help you feel more like you.”

Stevie frowns. “I don’t know what feels like me.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie says, smiling first at them, then at Robin. “We’ll help you.”

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[seeingivy]

brutal

eren jaeger x f!reader

**part of my canary mate fic

previous part linked here

--

[busstopbilly]: My song recommendation for the day is brutal by Olivia Rodrigo. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i beg ur pardon….

[lizontopoftheworld]: first of all. CRAZY choice for 7:47 am. who hurt you? 

[busstopbilly]: Car troubles. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: second. how do u know this song…. do u talk to other girls…. 

[busstopbilly]: Does my little sister count? She’s the one who told me about the song. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: ok period never mind. so she’s basically a real one for 1. listening and 2. putting you on 

[busstopbilly]: Would it bother you if I did? 

[busstopbilly]: Talk to other girls? 

[busstopbilly]: :) 

that was always the line that the two of you toed. on a day to day basis – making jokes about the one thing that you never seemed to talk about. 

that things, at least on your end, felt dangerously real at times. that when someone at the bar asked you if you were seeing anyone, your first thought would always be yes. because it felt wrong to say no. 

you were convinced that if you knew him in person, he’d be your boyfriend. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: DO YOU? 

[busstopbilly]: I can say it again. Would it bother you if I did? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: tbh wait

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’re obviously your own person. i was obviously just joking AND if you are talking to someone else it wouldn’t bother me. that doesn’t affect the fact that we’re friends and talk to each other here and there AND i would be very happy for you if you did because you deserve it 

that was the other thing. anonymity always presented a certain fear. that one day, he would stop responding. 

and that he’d be lost to you forever because you’d never be able to find him again. no identifying features, a vague username, and the conversations left as a reminder. 

[busstopbilly]: Wow. It usually takes the 3 o’clock slump to get you rambling about how we as people are deserving of the good, honest love. What gives? 

[busstopbilly]: For what it’s worth, no, I do not talk to other girls. Besides my sister and my mom, obviously. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: YIPEEEEEE 

[busstopbilly]: What happened to “that wouldn’t bother me”? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: ….next question. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: your sister seems cool. can i meet her someday? 

[busstopbilly]: Hilarious. 

[busstopbilly]: Yes, you can. 

you’re thrown out of the conversation by three consecutive honks – and sasha waving her arm out the car door – as you shoot one last message. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: my ride is here! have a great day billy boy :D 

you close your phone as you climb into sasha’s car, noting the two iced coffee cups in the holder, as you shoot her a smile. 

sasha offers to drop you off at the hospital on the way to the lab. 

it’s something that she does often – suggest that you run errands with her, study with her at the cafe, walk together to the lab. there’s moments where you feel bad about it, that she dictates the friendship so much, because you’re never one to suggest it at first. 

it’s not your fault that this aspect of friendship felt like it was foreign to you. or that it seemed like something you’d never be able to overcome. 

you didn’t grow up with friends that functioned like family. they always felt more transactional – though that was almost by design, on your part. 

“good morning sash.” 

“nico made you a coffee!” 

you smile. 

“awful kind of him.” 

sasha gives you a smile as she hunches over the wheel, looking over her shoulder, as she turns on to the street. 

“he just feels bad about the party you know…when he…” 

“threw up all over my shoes? yeah. i recall.” 

“he’s sorry! and he made you a sweet iced hazelnut coffee to make up for it.” 

you smile, shaking your head as you reach for the aux cord in her car. 

sasha had a penchant for being indecisive, a little bit too stuck in the situation sometimes, down to the details. you knew deep down that niccolo probably didn’t care much about the vomit and hadn’t thought about it since – and that she was trying to save imaginary face by gifting you a coffee in his name. 

it was hard for her to participate in things normally, in her words, with people who felt like they were high stakes. 

it was one of the reasons that she loved to hang out with you. she said it was easy to tell that you didn’t care much about that type of thing in the first place.

you wondered if it was a compliment – that you were so palatable to people’s taste. or a comment on how you felt so adaptable that there was nothing rigid or cemented about your personality to warrant a second thought.

“oh wait. this is an olivia rodrigo song right?” sasha asks. 

“yeah.” 

“aren’t her songs like…like really sad?” 

“i guess. a good amount of them are.” 

“i hate sad music. it just makes me so….so…” 

you try not to laugh. 

“sad?” 

sasha rolls her eyes. 

“you know what i mean. i listen to the song and then i start thinking about how i relate to it. and then i start wallowing.” sasha comments. 

“i do that too.” 

“god, isn’t it such a waste of time? sometimes it’s like…so overwhelming that it takes over my entire day. i can’t do anything but sit there and just feel it all.” 

and there was the key difference between you and sasha. it always made itself apparent, in almost every interaction that you had with her, but it said more about the way your rotten mind was wired to work, than her temperament. 

she seemed to repel the idea of sadness. you wallowed in it.

it was something that you thought about often when you looked at sasha. when you looked at yourself in the mirror. that her smile seemed to fit perfectly on her face – bright brown eyes that lit up whenever she talked, two dimples that were always visible on her cheeks, and an infectious smile.  

sometimes you felt like light didn’t fully reach the center of your eyes. that your smile didn’t look right on your face – that it did, but it just didn’t look like hers. infectious. encouraging and warm. 

that sadness sat in all of your wrinkles and lines and that it was there to stay. that no matter how you tried, it would always be there. 

“yeah. i’ll change it. bad start to the morning.” you state. 

“plus, you need all the luck you can get.” 

you groan. 

“don’t remind me please.” 

eren didn’t seem too happy to have you involved in his project. and that made two of you. 

you could appreciate that he was organized – scheduling mandatory meetings a week in advance, letting you bring his undergrad since he was bringing his – and never sparing you a second glance beside it. 

what you couldn’t appreciate was that he didn’t seem to want your help at all. you understand why it was warranted, especially for someone like him. you knew for a fact that he would have zero shred of bedside manner, no way to interact with patients that was sensitive or appropriate – since he couldn’t even seem to do it with normal people. 

making comments about jean and sasha, refusing to talk to anyone besides levi and hange at dinners, being so arrogant about the entire thing that he thought he was above it. 

you wonder how him and grisha jaeger were even related. 

you reach for the coffee, trying to banish the thought and the impending irritation that arose from the thought of both of them combined, just for it to consequently spill all over your top. 

“oh my god.” 

one of the ice cubes slithers all the way down the bottom of your shirt, landing in your lap, as you miserably eye the horrendous dark brown stain coating your white button up shirt. it sends a wave of goosebumps down your skin – the stickiness of the syrup and the ice cold liquid, as you can’t help but groan. 

sometimes it felt like these types of things only happened to you. 

“sasha.” 

“he must have not closed the lid properly. he didn’t do it on purpose!” 

you turn to glare at her. 

“i mean, obviously not. do you have napkins? or a spare shirt by the grace of god?” 

“napkins are in front in the glove box. and no…niccolo just took all my shirts out the other day so he could wash them.” 

you give her a wry smile. 

“of course he did.” you joke. 

“i swear to god. he didn’t mean it!”

the napkins do little to fix the mark – except smear it farther across the fabric – as you give her a dry laugh. 

“i know. relax.” 

“you’re not mad right?” 

“no. just anticipating some comment from eren about dress code and professionalism, that’s all. if anything, that makes my entire thing easier since he can’t pick on something else i was doing wrong that i was seemingly blissfully unaware of.” 

you give up after two minutes of dabbing, most of the wetness drained from the shirt and the stick gone from your sing, as you turn to sasha. 

“what are you going to work on today?” 

“mikasa’s project. well mine, but hers, you know?” 

“yeah. does she at least seem excited about it?” 

“i mean, it’s insane experience to have as a project lead. i don’t know why she wouldn’t get in the next time.” 

“that’s true. plus, six spots and none of the people in the program are affiliated with the lab so, she has a good shot.” 

“i just hope she gets it. i would end up on the news if i got rejected as second time after putting in all that work.” 

sasha rolls right up to the front of the hospital – and you note that she awkwardly eyes the stain – as you give her a smile. you can see eren sitting at the front bench, gabi and falco sitting by his side, as you swallow down the contempt in your mouth.

you clear your throat, catching all of their attention, as you note all of their expressions. gabi and falco have a total pinch of pity in both of their eyes and eren just looks irritated as they eye the stain.

“you have to be kidding, right?” eren asks. 

“sasha drove me here and her…boyfriend didn’t put the lid on the coffee properly. it’s not my fault.” 

“do you have another shirt?” eren asks. 

“obviously not. you think i’d show my face before his excellency without it?” you ask. 

that earns you a laugh from falco and gabi, who you turn to give a smile to, before looking back to eren. he rolls his eyes, making a dramatic show of pinching the bridge of his nose, as he digs into his pocket. 

“this is your badge. maybe we can get you one of those bright pink shirts from the gift shop.” 

“eren. don’t be a dick. just give her your shirt.” gabi states. 

erwin had decided to pair gabi with eren and falco with you, just based on compatibility and interests, and it was one of the reasons that you had utter faith in erwin as a leader. 

gabi had a penchant to keep eren on his toes. she wasn’t exactly afraid of his bitter personality, but instead, very eager to win him over. 

it reminded you of when you first met eren and thought you could do the same. though unlike gabi, you quickly decided that it was a lost cause. 

“what?” 

“you’re wearing an undershirt, aren’t you? just give her the button up.” gabi states. 

“gabi. wearing a short sleeved t-shirt here isn’t exactly professional.” eren responds. 

“you know what’s even more unprofessional? letting one of your team members look bad when you can help them. no offense, y/n.” 

you smile. 

“none taken.” 

“they’re going to give us white coats that’ll cover up your arms. but it won’t cover up the stain, so just be a gentleman, and give her your shirt.” gabi states. 

eren gives her a menacing glare – though you think that he just looks like that, that it can’t intentionally be by design to look so hateful all the time – while he ponders the thought. he must have a soft spot for gabi or something, probably something that reminds him of the sister you’ve heard briefly about, as he reaches down and starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

“falco, gabi. go check in at the desk at the front.” 

you watch as the two of them scuttle off, giggling under their breaths as they run through the round-a-bout doors. you turn to eren, who hands you the shirt, as you shoot him a smile. 

“thank you, eren. i really appreciate it.” 

“next time, anticipate being prepared.” 

you roll your eyes. was it impossible for him to be polite? 

“do you want me to carry a spare of every article of clothing for me in the off chance that i spill something on myself?” 

“off chance is a little kind. it literally happened just now.” eren mutters. 

you bite down on your cheek as you put his shirt on, tucking in the excess fabric into your pants. you unclip his badge from the shirt and hand it over to him, as the two of you join falco and gabi at the elevators. 

eren clears his throat as the four of you enter the elevator, shooting gabi a look, as she drops her conversation. you turn to falco and give him an eye roll – your frustrations with eren well known to him – as falco steps back and joins you. 

“gabi. what’s a lesion?” 

“areas of damaged brain tissue. all the patients we’re seeing today got their brain lesions from injuries that they got, but you can also get lesions from certain diseases.” gabi repeats. 

you hate that eren does this. makes her learn through fear of disappointing him. falco told you that she spent all of her free time outside of the fellowship memorizing as much as she could to make sure that she would get all of his questions right. 

“what region are we looking at today?” eren asks.

“hippocampus this week. amygdala next week, but there’s a focus on the temporal lobe.” 

you spare yourself as you tap falco on the shoulder, lowering your voice. 

“how’s your brother doing?” 

falco gives you a shrug, as you reach forward and squeeze his shoulder. two week ago, you gave him the entire week off because his brother got into a car accident – and from what levi had told you, he had yet to recover. 

“same old.” 

“if you need anything, can you let me know?” you ask. 

falco awkwardly reaches for the back of his neck, pushing down the ends of his hair, as you exit the elevator. 

“i’ll let you know, okay?” 

you give him a nod as you catch up to eren and gabi, the two of them holding out the white coats to you as you pull them on and walk into the briefing meeting. 

--

the day goes well for the most part. you’re counting your lucky stars through the training that it’s mostly basic procedures, sanitation rules and the such, and you’re just going through the motions. 

it goes well for the most part, until the very end. and it’s almost like you can anticipate it – eren having a horrible interaction with someone that would put you off – that it’s almost laughable. 

you interact with one patient at the end of the day, just to screen if they wanted to participate in eren’s study. and of course, he has to push the limits and ask a question that goes too far. 

it just bothers you that it was gabi on the chopping block. 

“okay, the patient’s name is gabriela alvarez. she’s from the area, she got injured in a motor cycle accident. her family isn’t here since they all had work, so it’ll just be her. we’re just going to walk in, ask her if she wants to participate in the study, and then fill out screening forms. if she declines, we’ll just leave.” 

you all give him a nod. 

“gabi. what is it?” eren asks. 

“what? nothing.” gabi responds. 

“you made a face when i just said that. is there a problem?” eren asks. 

you hate the tone. he could have just asked her if something was wrong – not insinuating that she had a problem. 

“no, eren. i’m good. i’ve just never done this before.” gabi states. 

“don’t worry. that’s why y/n and falco are here. they have experience with this type of thing.” eren states. 

you and falco turn towards gabi, giving her a smile. 

“we can lead for this one if you wanted? just so you could see how it goes?” you ask.

gabi shakes her head, immediately turned off by the thought, as she gives you both a halfhearted smile back. 

“no, no. i got it, i’m here for a reason.” 

you swallow down the retort as the group of you walk in. that her not taking the lead wouldn’t insinuate that she wasn’t meant to be here. that she could learn without being put on the spot.

despite the fact, eren seems to lead the entire thing. gabi doesn’t have to worry about talking, because eren barely lets her get a word in – with a prerehearsed spiel you’re convinced he practiced in the mirror. 

“we would really appreciate if you could participate in the study. it’s totally optional, but it would really help us better understand the nature of the injury and help other people in the future.” eren finishes. 

arrogance. 

the lady’s barely forty years old, a kind smile like sasha’s – sweetness that melted into her skin – and it made your chest pang that she seemed confused. sitting in a hospital room, alone. listening to people like eren jabber all day, with no one to consult or talk to for advice. 

and there’s silence, an awkward silence where she’s supposed to respond, and after the fact, she turns to look at gabi. 

“you guys would take my information?” she asks.

“it’s all removed when we analyze it.” gabi offers. 

“but…but there would be record of all my information and such that i did it?” 

gabi sighs. 

“no one can have access to it. it’s just so that we note down who did the experiment, that the results weren’t falsified.” 

gabriella seemes turned off by the idea entirely, shaking her head. 

“i would love to help, but…but you know i can’t.” 

you watch as she bores her eyes into gabi’s – and shockingly enough – that she reaches forward and grabs her hand. 

“i know. i’ll talk to them about it. i’ll see you later, okay?” she murmurs, quiet enough that you can barely hear it. 

eren turns to you, giving you a questioning look, as you shrug. the four of you subsequently leave the room and eren doesn’t waste a single second in the hallway. 

“do you know her?” eren asks. 

gabi gives him a nod, barely meeting his eye. 

“yeah. yeah, she’s friends with my mom. they’ve known each other for a while.” 

“so you know why she won’t do it?” eren asks. 

you nudge him in the side. 

“you can’t coerce people into participating, eren.” you note. 

“i’m not coercing her. i just want to know so that we can keep it in mind for future patients. change up how i market the entire thing. why won’t she do it?” eren asks. 

you watch as gabi gives him a nervous look, eyes flickering in between him and falco, as she scrunches up her shoulders. 

“gabi. you obviously don’t have to answer. don’t feel the need to share anything too personal.” you offer. 

gabi gives you a smile before turning back to eren and it’s almost like you can see it in her face. that she’s folding. 

“she met my mom through the church that we go to. she also gave my mom a contact for an agent that can help her apply for...citizenship. she’s undocumented, like my mom is, and that’s why she won’t do it. if the reviewers look into the validity of the study and look into her status, she…” 

“they wouldn’t do that.” eren offers, voice almost quiet. 

gabi sighs. you swear there’s a glistening sheen in her eyes. 

“i know. but she doesn’t know that. there’s a fear that comes with this type of thing and…” 

it hits a nerve. it hits a nerve and you think it’s horrible – you think eren’s horrendous for putting her on the spot like that, for questioning her further – and you hate him for it. 

“okay, gabi. well, we’re done for the day anyways, so do you want to go get the car?” eren asks, holding the keys out in front of her.

she gives eren a smile, as she nods and takes them from him. you turn to falco, giving him a beckon to follow her, as he shoots you a grateful smile and speed walks behind her. the two of you watch as they wave from behind the elevator, before you note the empty hallway, and turn back to eren. 

“you’re an asshole.” you state. 

eren looks up from the file in his hand, eyes wide, as he looks up at you. 

“i beg your pardon?” 

“i know you heard me. you’re an asshole. you had no right to push her into sharing something that was obviously personal for her. and you have no right to be so hard on her all the time.” 

eren flips the folder shut, tucking it under his elbow, as he digs his hands into the pockets of his white coat. you can tell that he’s irritated – that he can’t hide the malice in his eyes – and it drives you insane. 

that he still has the audacity to be mad. 

“i’m hard on her?” he asks. 

“of course you’re hard on her. she spends all of her free time memorizing useless facts that teach her shit about what it’s like to do research. you should be supporting her, asking her questions that encourage her to explore what it is that we’re doing on our own, why we made the experiment the way that we did. you have to know that this does nothing for her.” 

eren rolls her eyes. 

“and you want me to do what? coddle her like you coddle falco?” 

“excuse me?” 

“you don’t need to walk him through every line of code that he writes. he can find articles to read and explore on his own, you’re setting him up with bad expectations that he’s going to find easy help when he has to do this on his own.” 

“is there something so wrong with that? getting help? god forbid i give him a good foundation on the things he has to know before putting him in the deep end.” 

eren rolls his eyes. 

“being helpless is how you learn.” 

you glare at him. 

“you might get off on that type of thing, but i certainly don’t.” 

“what type of thing?” 

you sigh, balling your fists at your side, as you try to stop your voice from wavering. 

“she’s been trying to vye for your approval since she met you – and…and you kept asking. you made her feel like she had to give that to you, so that she could get points. it’s cruel and senseless, using something like that against someone. especially when it’s something…a situation that’s so foreign to you. you have no idea what it’s like to struggle like that. and on top of that, you’re going to be an asshole and make her get your car? so yeah, you get off on that type of thing. acting like you’re better than people, like you have a right to know, because you’re important.” 

eren sighs. 

“and what makes you think i didn’t know already?” eren asks. 

“what?” 

“i know you heard me. what makes you think that i didn’t know already? because gabi actually told me one of the first days that she got here. i’ve known for some time because she’s actually trusted me enough to tell me – not because i cornered her into it for brownie points.” 

eren seems to lean closer, looming over you as he looks down at you. 

“i don’t coddle gabi, because that’s something that doesn’t motivate her. the same way it’s something that doesn’t motivate you. i know damn well from the way you look at sasha and hange, hange and annie, that you think that it’s something you want. being buddy buddy the way hange is with us. but i’ve known from the second i met you, that you live for that type of thing. proving yourself, having to work for someone’s approval, because it won’t motivate you otherwise, the same way it won’t motivate gabi. there’s a reason that you got paired with levi, y/n. there’s a reason you’re so pissed off watching her work for it – because you have some insecure sense of self worth that you don’t deserve to be here and you’re scared she feels that way too.”  

you swallow down the bile in your throat. 

“are you watching me or something?” 

“only because you irritate me just as much as i irritate you. don’t think that i don’t turn my nose up at everything you say and that i don’t notice that you do it to me too.” eren responds. 

you bite so hard into your cheek that you swear you draw blood. 

“are you done? how long did that one take to rehearse in the mirror?” 

eren clenches his draw. 

“no. i’m not the asshole that makes his undergraduate student get his car. i got a flat tire and she offered to drive me here. i had her key, because her pants don’t have pockets.” eren responds, stalking towards the elevator, as you begrudgingly follow. 

it’s an awkward elevator ride down, completely silent until the ding, as the two of you walk out to the front of the hospital. the suns dipping down into the horizon, as gabi and falco lean against eren’s car, quietly talking. 

you give them a wave, the two of them sitting up, as you and eren walk up to them. 

“eren. can i talk to you for a second?” falco asks. 

eren gives him a nod, gesturing for him to follow towards the left, as you take falco’s spot next to gabi. you eye the two of them, noting falco’s characteristically nervous hands moving rapidly as he talks to eren. 

“what are they talking about?” you ask. 

“falco’s going to ask eren if colt can do the trial. he has lesions…or…or falco thinks he might, he just can’t remember right.” 

you look over at him. 

“he isn’t getting any better is he?” 

gabi shakes her head. 

“falco says that colt doesn’t even remember him.” 

you nod. 

“listen. i wanted to talk to you about something, if…if that’s okay.” 

gabi looks over at you, eyes expectant as you look down at the uneven gravel. 

“my mom recently got her citizenship status. my dad’s is being processed right now and…and it’s because my brother married an immigration lawyer. she’s really good and…and she could help you. and i can cover it for you, if you need me to.” you state. 

“what?” 

“she is really good. i can’t promise anything but, it’s worked out well for us, if you want another opinion.” 

gabi gives you a smile, cheeks almost pink as she follows your suit, staring down at the ground. 

“i couldn’t let you pay for that.” 

“she owes me a favor…and she’s my sister. i know we don’t know each other that well but, i…i get that this type of thing can….i don’t know.” 

you pause. 

“i just want you to enjoy your summer here so that you can see if research is your thing, no stress. i know it can be a lot at times.” 

gabi gives you a smile. 

“i’ll think about it, okay?” 

“please don’t hesitate, okay?” 

“i won’t.” 

eren and falco trail back to the two of you – falco and gabi giving each other a smile – as you turn to look at eren. 

“i want my shirt back tomorrow.” eren states, giving you a glare. 

“i’ll dry clean it for you, your highness.” you respond, giving it right back. 

“do you need a ride, y/n?” falco asks. 

you turn to him, giving him a smile, as you nod. the two of you trail into the parking lot, as you quietly sink into falco’s passenger seat, and nearly pull at the front strands of your hair. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you gave me a bad omen. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: truly is brutal out here. 

[busstopbilly]: Tell me about it. 

[busstopbilly]: In a shocking turn of events, the wallflower actually cussed me out today. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: HELLO? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: woah it’s been so long since i’ve heard about her. what gives? don’t tell me she did it again?

[bussstopbilly]: Oh, she definitely did. 

[busstopbilly]: I swear to god, I despise her because she’s just like everyone else. She thinks I’m exactly like my dad. It’s almost like she makes it a point to bring it up. That I don’t understand because everything came to me easily. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’re obviously not like your dad 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’ll be out of this thing soon 

[busstopbilly]: What happened to you? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: stupid idiot asshole misogynistic ugly prick 

[busstopbilly]: But of course. 

[busstopbilly]: If it’s any solace, he only feels the need to put you down because he knows how great you are. It wouldn’t be a thing to him – he’s purposely making it into a competition becuase he feels inferior. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i guess 

[busstopbilly]: Tomorrow is another day. 

[busstopbilly]: And you shouldn’t listen to sad songs when you go home. 

[lizontopoftheworld[: BOOOOOOOOOO

[lizontopoftheworld]: but it’s so fun 

[busstopbilly]: Maybe. 

[bussstopbilly]: I just don’t want you to cry or feel like you’re defeated. I hate thinking that you’re sitting there feeling like you don’t fit in. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i don’t 

[bussstopbilly]: And that’s a good thing. Research, that type of career – it’s already filled with monotony. 

[busstopbilly]: You make things interesting. You’re there for a reason. 

[lizontoptheworld]: you make me sound so important 

[busstopbilly]: You are important. In more ways than one, obviously. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: chronic flirt….

[busstopbilly]: It’s good for your health. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: normal people eat vitamins. or like workout or something. 

[busstopbilly]: We’re not normal people, are we?

you can’t help but smile. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: no. of course not. 

[busstopbilly]: :) 

[busstopbilly]: You and me, Liz. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: my song is ribs by lorde 

[busstopbilly]: Because I’m the only friend you need?

[lizontopoftheworld]: so observant 

[busstopbilly]: Eh. 

[busstopbilly]: Only for you.

--

an: hehe

taglist: @invisible-mori @multiplefandomthings @chericos @wheredidmycrowngo @chaoticpxnda @aizzon @stuffeddeer @butterfly-skinnylegend @najaemism @hellokitty-doll @constanciandrea @iblamesusy @jaegersdiary @f4irygard3n @misadear @fell-4-u @coyloves @sobbangchan @you-always-made-me-blush @th0tformikasa @yell0wdreams @itzmeme

[hannahssimblr]

Ivy is waiting on the steps when I pull into the driveway. Her face lights up when she sees my car, and raises her arm in a frantic wave.

“Hey!” I say, as she launches herself into my legs, “have you gotten taller?”

“I don’t know. Nobody has measured me.”

“I think you have.”

She grins. “Maybe. You’re really tanned.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, look,” and she holds her arm against mine, which is now a deep, golden brown. 

“Yeah, I suppose I didn’t notice.”

“Was it fun?”

“The beach?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, mostly! How about you?”

“My summer?” she says. “I already told you on the phone about five times.”

“I was hoping you’d regale me again so I wouldn’t have to talk about myself.”

She does an eye roll, which is remarkably teenaged. It’s like the first glimpse of the adolescent she’ll eventually become. “Boring, so boring. I hope you never get to hog the beach house all summer again.”

“I highly doubt I will.”

“Mom and dad got you a present, by the way.”

I blink. “What, really?”

“Yeah, something. I can’t tell what it is. They’re waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Sounds vaguely ominous, but okay. I follow her as she tears up the steps and from the hallway to the extension, where bright, harsh light spills across the parquet. The house is tidy and smells like bleach, the way it always does after the cleaner has been. By the island, my parents stand side by side, arms crossed, faces stern, as the dishwasher rumbles. 

Maybe it is ominous. 

“Hello,” I say guardedly. 

“Welcome back,” my mother says, in a tone that suggests I am, in fact, not very welcome at all, though she’s always had issues with sincerity. 

I look from her, to my father, then back. “Thank you.”

Ivy, already bored with this conversation, dashes out and begins thumping on the piano in the other room. 

“I, um, I locked up the beach house and made sure everything was switched off.” I volunteer. “So it should be good for next summer.”

“Good,” says Dad, and my eyes flit to a rectangular white box on the counter. 

“What’s that?”

“It’s for you.”

“Oh.” I approach it and turn it over in my hands. “It’s one of those phone things.”

The laugh that escapes my mother sounds halfway to a scoff. “I thought you young people knew all about those.”

“Yeah, I know about them. I’ve seen them.” I’ve tapped at the screens in the phone shops and laughed to myself at the idea that a person would ever really need something so excessively high-tech in their pocket, when we all have computers that work perfectly fine. “Is this the new one?”

“Yes,” she says, and I slide the lid off the box.

“Thank you.”

“It was your father’s idea, not mine.”

Dad shifts from one foot to the other, like the suggestion he might be generous by nature makes him uncomfortable. He mutters, “Lorcan, at work, has one. Says they’re excellent. Though he has the three.”

I tip the slim, white phone into my palm, and it lays there, cool metal on my skin. It’s like something from the future. “This is the four.”

“Yes.”

“Um,” I hit the sole button beneath the screen, and nothing happens. “It’s just funny, like, because I don’t really know what I’d use it for.”

“For a myriad of things.” Mom’s voice is barbed. “Look at the booklet. You can go on the internet, look at live maps, contact people abroad with no need to pay all of those roaming charges.”

“Yeah, all good things, I suppose.”

We lapse into silence as Ivy launches into double handed scales on the grand piano, and I stare at this piece of unnecessary tech, the black mirror screen fogging from the heat of my palm. 

“I’m just saying my old phone was fine, too. It had everything I needed.” 

To this, mom tuts and rolls her eyes. “Is it really so difficult for you to be grateful, for once? It’s a generous gift.”

“Yeah, it’s really generous. I appreciate it. I’m just surprised, is all, because it’s not like I’ve ever been a tech person, or whatever, but I’m sure I’ll realise it’s useful once I… use it.”

“There’s the attitude,” dad says, and I turn to him with a blink. 

“Excuse me?”

“See, Colette, this is the way he always is when you do him a kindness. It was this way with the car, too. Non-appreciative, shrugging it off. Then there was letting him use the beach house all summer, and what thanks do we get for that?”

“Seriously?” I cut in. “Thank you. Thank you for the house. Jesus, you didn’t even give me a chance to-”

Dad swipes something else off the counter, a sheet of paper with text and numbers on it, all looking so dull and so official that my eyes glaze over, even skimming it. “What’s that?”

“A bill.” He snips. “€1700 for a two-month gas bill! Are you kidding me?”

Heat rises to my face as Ivy starts pounding out rising arpeggios in a chromatic sequence in the next room. “Um.”

“Did you have the hot water on twenty-four seven? How is this even possible? I’ve never seen a bill like this in my life, Jude.”

“Dad, c’mon,” I abandon my new phone on a stool and take the bill from him, as though I can prove he has made some obvious mistake, but no, it’s clear as day, in a bold text for idiots like me to understand. €1700. “You know I can’t figure this bill stuff out. How was I supposed to know it’d cost that much? I have no reference for this kind of thing.”

“Anybody else would know. Every other child on the planet knows that gas costs money, and even if, by some stretch of the imagination, you did not, then I told you explicitly to turn the gas off at the boiler when you weren’t using it.”

I open my mouth and close it again. “I-” A scoff. “I didn’t know if I’d be able to turn it on again, did I?”

“Apparently not!”

“Jude, that’s ridiculous.” Mom says in a more even, but no less scathing, tone. “Use your common sense.”

“Well… It’s not like it’s a big deal, is it? You can just pay for that.”

“That’s not the point!” Dad cries. “It’s your careless attitude towards money. I sent you another thousand over the summer, and what did you do with it? I know you didn’t spend it on groceries.”

“I just spent it, I don’t know.”

“Those are new shoes.” Mom points out, and really, she doesn’t have to rat me out like that. We’ve never been friends, but we’ve at least had a common enemy. I can see a new line forming, and for the first time in my memory, they are united against me.

“I got sick on my other ones.”

“Why were you sick?”

I hesitate. 

“Jude. Do you have a substance abuse problem?”

“What? Why have you jumped to that conclusion? That’s-”

“Because you’re spending all of this money, and now you’ve been sick on your shoes. How do you think-”

“Oh. Me being sick on my shoes automatically means I’m an addict? You realise what a massive leap in logic that is, Mom?”

“I don’t know what else to think. You think we never noticed all of those late nights you had during school? What would-”

“Oh, my God, Ivy!” I yell, “Please stop playing the piano, for like, five minutes!”

“I’m practising!” she chirps back, and bangs out some increasingly complicated Bach study from the book I bought her last Christmas. 

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Christ, mom, have you sat with her during her piano practise even once this summer? Gotten her to go through those exercises? They sound worse than they did in June.”

“Now you’re avoiding the subject,” she snaps. “How much are you drinking per week? Are you using drugs?” 

I toss my hands in frustration. “I don’t fucking do drugs!”

“Language!” both my parents yell, and I roll my eyes. 

“This is besides the point, anyway. The fact is that you only gave me €500 to spend for the entire summer at first, Dad. How was that supposed to last me, anyway? It feels like you set me up to fail.”

“I set you up with a modest budget to learn about how to handle your finances whilst living on your own.”

“Well, then, you set up a test without telling me it was a test. That’s hardly fair.”

“It was very obvious.”

“Who was it obvious to?”

“It would be obvious to anybody who knew how to think.” He says, prodding a finger against the side of his head. “Think critically. Employ a bit of sense. That’s who. But look at you. Incapable of even that. I should have suspected.”

“Why are you so dramatic all the time? Huh? It doesn’t have to be this way. I didn’t do so badly this summer. I did all the things you asked in that email. The place is clean, sheets changed, towels washed and dried and put away. I broke a single plate, and that was it.”

“That was your basic responsibility.”

“Nothing is good enough for you, is it?”

Mom’s mouth flattens. “You’re twisting things, Jude.”

“Look, this is about the bill. I get it. I’m sorry. If it’s such an enormous deal to you, then fine. I’ll pay it. When I sell my car, I’ll use some of the money on this. Does that seem fair?”

“We already expected as much.”

“Then, fine. It’s all sorted. I’ll do that. Lesson learned.”

They just look at me, faces unreadable, but their body language makes me itchy, like they’re hiding some infinitely worse piece of information. 

“What?”

Beginning // Prev // Next

I've gotta thank the wonderful @sirianasims for pitching some ideas for this particular section of the story! I've had such a good time running with them

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 4: Want to Talk About It?

Joel attends your mother's funeral. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 3, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Death. Mention of suicide. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 4.5K

A/N: Anna is vaguely described. Not mentioned in this chapter BUT Anna is adopted (this will be explicitly in the text later) and has no blood relation to Goldie.

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

November 14, 2010

“You sure we should really be here?” Tommy asked, looking over at Joel. 

“Course we should be here,” Joel replied, glancing at him and drying his sweaty palm on his black jeans. “We knew ‘er, too. Wouldn’t just be here to support… we’d be here anyway is what I’m saying.” 

“Right,” Tommy nodded. “OK.” 

The two of them were quiet, tucked away at the back of the funeral parlor. It wasn’t too packed with people, maybe two or three dozen, who were milling around, lining up to go look at your mom’s body. Joel couldn’t bring himself to do that part of it. He’d looked at his dad as he lay cold and still and now he had a hard time picturing him alive. He didn’t want to do that again. 

“She’s gonna be here, right?” Tommy whispered. “I mean… Rhode Island is far and she hasn’t been back since, right?” 

“It’s her mom” Joel whispered back. “Course she’ll be here.” 

He looked back over his shoulder anyway. He wasn’t nearly as confident as he sounded. 

Joel hoped you’d be here. It made sense that you would be. He hadn’t seen you in years. It had been so long he’d started to forget what you sounded like. It was like one day, just after prom, you decided he wasn’t a part of your life anymore and that was that. A switch he didn’t know existed had flipped and his whole life turned upside down with it. 

He almost hadn’t known your mother died. Your fucking mother, the woman who fed him dinner more times than he could count, who called him Joely, who tugged on the ends of his curls when his hair got long and told him to not be shy, to take what he wanted from her kitchen because her home was his home, too. She’d died and he almost hadn’t even heard about it. He wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for a text from your sister. 

Hey Joel, it’s Anna. She wouldn’t want me to tell you this but I think that’s bullshit. Our mom died a few days ago, the funeral is Sunday. Thought you might want to know. Hope you’re doing OK <;3 

It sent him reeling more than anything else related to you had in so long. How could he not have known? That something so big could happen to you and he was just living his life as though things were normal? That he wasn’t helping you through it? He should be helping you through it. 

But it hurt in other ways, too. It made him realize that, really, he was nothing to you. He wasn’t even your fucking Facebook friend. If something happened to you across the country, if you were in a car accident or you needed your appendix out, no one would tell him. He’d never know about it. You could die and it would be a normal day for him because he was nothing to you and no one would tell him that the most important person in the world was gone. 

Before too long, people started finding their seats and Joel fought to not turn around and watch the doors, looking for you. But he still glanced back when you did come in, trailing behind a small cluster of people that looked vaguely familiar. He realized he probably met them at some family event or another, at a birthday party or BBQ because, for three years, you were only ever apart when you had to be. 

And then there you were. You were wearing a black dress with black tights and black high heels and your eyes were red but your face was firm. There was a man beside you, one whose arm you clutched tight and Joel resisted the urge to glare at him. You didn’t even glance at Joel.

Anna came in behind you. She didn’t bother with the pretense of pretending not to cry, little trails of mascara running down her cheeks. But she smiled tightly at Joel and mouthed “hi” and he gave her a sad smile in return. 

Joel watched as you, Anna and that fucking man settled into the front row, his arm going around your shoulders and tugging you against his side. Joel barely listened to the officiant at first, too busy focusing on you. You kept turning your head to look up at the man next to you and at one point he leaned over and kissed your temple and whispered in your ear. Joel ground his teeth. 

But it was easy to pay attention when you got up to give your eulogy. You pulled your gold notebook out of your bag and carried it up to the podium. Your eyes were still red - he could see that, even from the back of the room - and your shoulders were hunched as you arranged the notebook in front of you. But you took a deep, shaky breath and looked up, back straightening and chin jutting out in defiance, jaw set tight. 

“If I had to find one word to summarize my mother, it would be try,” you said. “She was made up of try, I think. She was always trying to make things better for my sister and I, always trying to build the life she wanted… I guess, in the end, trying just became too much for her…” 

Your voice never wavered. It was stronger than Joel remembered but the tone and cadence were so familiar, so like home. Your eyes were red but you didn’t cry. You just stood there, fingers tight on your notebook that you only ever glanced down at, anyway. 

Joel wanted to get up and hug you. You looked like you needed a hug. More than a hug. You looked like you needed someone to carry you for a while, like you needed someone to take you by the shoulders, look you in the eye and say “It’s OK. I’ll take it from here. Rest.” You needed it so much that Joel started to stand up, instinctively, when you finished your speech and headed back to your seat but the man you came in with met you near the podium, putting his arm around you and kissing the top of your head. Joel sat back down. 

“She did good,” Tommy whispered as Joel stared straight ahead. For the first time, your eyes met his. 

“Yeah,” Joel said, not looking away. “She did.” 

After the service, there was a receiving line and Joel held Tommy back. He wondered if, maybe, he could get you alone that way. But that fucking guy was on you like glue, one of his hands on the small of your back he entire time. He was constantly directing you, constantly nudging you where he wanted you to be, adjusting you to stand how he wanted you to stand. Joel wanted to fucking punch him. 

“Thank you for coming,” Anna smiled a little at him, her blue eyes lacking their usual spark. “I know it’s been a while but… well, Mom just loved you.” 

Joel’s throat got tight. 

“I loved her, too,” he said. “She was a great lady. Really.” 

“Yeah,” Anna said, her voice wet as she looked back toward the casket. “Yeah, she was.” 

Joel glanced at you, your fingers in a tight fist around the man’s shirt, your lips at his ear as he frowned a little. Anna looked back at him and followed his eyes. 

“Don’t get me started,” she said, her voice low. “Mom wasn’t huge on him…” 

Joel shook hands quickly with one of your aunts and then he was in front of you. He glanced over at the man and realized he recognized him. The man had to be twice your age, hair going gray and crows feet around his eyes. His chest got tight. 

“Joel,” you said, one arm crossed over the front of yourself, clutching onto your opposite elbow. “Good of you to come.”

“Course,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to shake your hand or not. What did you do with the person who was once your best friend, the person you lost your virginity to, when you hadn’t spoken in years? “Always loved your mom. She was always nicer to me than I deserved.” 

You huffed at that and the man pressed a little closer to you, his hand firmly planted on your lower back. You stood up straighter before you looked toward Tommy and your face softened a little. “Good to see you Tommy. How’s school going?”

“OK,” he shrugged. “I’m passing. Missed you.” 

You smiled ever so slightly. 

“Missed you, too.” 

“You could come visit, you know,” Tommy said. 

“Tommy,” Joel hissed and he just looked up at him. 

“What! She could.” 

“It’s not a great time for me to be leaving school,” you said. “I’ve got classes all year and writing intensives all summer… I’m not sure when I’ll be back again.” 

“Not even to see Anna?” Joel frowned. 

“Anna can always come visit us,” the man at your back said. “Sorry to cut the reunion short but we should keep things moving…” 

“We’re last in line,” Tommy protested. 

“And the family needs to get to the reception,” the man said. “I’m sure you can share your thoughts there.” 

“Right,” Joel said, looking from the man to you. “Sure we can. C’mon Tommy.” 

“But…” 

“Let’s go,” Joel cut him off. “Don’t want to be rude.” 

Joel looked back over his shoulder to you when he made it to the doors, your head bowed and the man’s large hand at the nape of your neck. 

“Guy’s an asshole,” Tommy muttered as he climbed in Joel’s truck. 

“Yeah, well,” he sighed, grinding his teeth a little. “Goldie always had shit taste in men.” 

Joel felt like he deserved a goddamn medal for sitting there, watching you with that fucking guy, silent at a table with your family, family made up of Anna and people he didn’t know. Because, besides Anna, they weren’t your fucking family. He was. Him and Tommy. 

He kept watching for a moment to try to get you alone, some point where you were away from that man who kept fucking pawing at you and who looked like he was old enough to be your fucking father. He tried not to think about how shitty that was. To corner you at your mother’s funeral and force you to talk to him. But it was hard to really care. 

The time for etiquette was long passed. He missed you. He kept thinking that, eventually, the feeling would fade. That he’d wake up in the morning and think of something besides you. That he’d stop looking for signs of you everywhere and in everything. That, eventually, some day, you wouldn’t be the first person he thought of talking to when he had a shit day or when something good happened to him. He couldn’t keep going like this, going on without the answers he should have fucking marched up to you and demanded years ago. Joel wasn’t the type to think the world owed him things but fuck, didn’t you? Didn’t you owe him something? Didn’t being inseparable things whose roots and branches had become so intertwined that one couldn’t live without the other mean that you had to at least tell him before you cut yourself away? You certainly didn’t seem to think so. He disagreed.

And then you came home with that guy, that fucking guy, the one who couldn’t possibly be good enough for you and you let him touch you and hold you and control you during what Joel knew had to be one of the worst times of your life. Did that guy even know? Did he know that your mom took you prom dress shopping and adjusted the hemline herself at the sewing machine in your living room? Did he know how you carefully removed the screen of your bedroom window to climb out of it so your mom wouldn’t hear you open the front door when you left to lay in the bed of Joel’s truck and star gaze at the park? Did he know how sad and kind your mother’s face was when she told him that you’d left town, moved to Rhode Island months earlier than planned, when he came by your house a few days after prom to demand answers? 

Did you?

Eventually, you stood up and leaned down to whisper in the man’s ear and you left the room. The man watched you go and Joel waited for a moment before he followed you. The door you’d gone through led to a hall with bathrooms and an exit to the parking lot and he took a guess, hovering outside the ladies’ room door. He was right, and you nearly walked into him a minute later. 

“Shit,” you said, sniffling a little. “Sorry…” 

“S’OK,” he said quickly. “Thought I’d check on you. See if you wanted a drink.” 

“A drink?” you raised your eyebrows at him. He had the strangest urge to trace the arch of them with his thumb. 

“Yup,” he pulled his flask ever so slightly from his inside leather jacket pocket before tucking it away again. “Bullshit that the person who probably coordinated this whole thing can’t even fucking drink for it. Thought you could use one.” 

“Jesus, could I ever,” you said, looking around quickly. “C’mon.” 

You took his hand as though everything was normal and pulled him along behind you to the door, shoving it roughly open before stepping out into the cool November air. 

“Oh shit, one sec,” you said, hovering by the door for a moment, holding it open with one hand and balancing on one foot. Joel laughed. 

“What the fuck are you doin’ Goldie?” 

“Making sure we don’t get locked out,” you replied, pulling your heel off and putting your shoe between the door and the frame, closing the heavy metal door delicately to make sure it stayed propped open. You limped awkwardly for a few steps before Joel just shook his head and went to you, looping his arm around your waist and half carrying you to the little partial wall that separated the restaurant from the parking lot. He set you down there and watched as you rolled and turned your ankle for a moment before stretching your foot out to a point. “Never buy heels, Joel. They’re not worth the pain.” 

“Noted,” he smiled a little and pulled the flask out of his coat pocket before sitting beside you. He handed it to you first and you looked at it for a moment, smiling a little. 

“This is familiar,” you said, a hint of fondness in your voice. 

“Yeah but I bought the booze this time,” Joel said. You nodded slowly as you took a sip. You winced a little as it went down and handed it back to him. He looked at it for a moment, his finger tracing the neck of it. The metal shined a little, wet with you and the rum. He brought it to his lips, taking a drink. “So… how’re things?” 

“You mean besides the fact that I’m here instead of working on final projects because my mom decided to slit her wrists in the bathtub?” You asked, brows raised. “Just peachy.” 

“Sorry,” Joel flinched, handing you the flask again. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “That was a stupid question.” 

You shrugged. 

“And how are you?” You asked, pulling your arms in tight to yourself. “I know it’s… it’s been a while…” 

“Well, someone I know changed their damn phone number,” Joel said, shrugging out of his coat and draping it over your shoulders. “But shit’s same as always. Or same as always for the last few years, anyway. Tommy is doing good in school right now. Got a job with some pretty steady work.” 

You frowned, tugging the coat a little tighter to yourself. Joel was reminded of when you’d borrow his letterman years ago, how the sleeves swallowed your fingers because his arms were long enough that they had to special order his size. You’d always looked so fragile there, in his coat. You’d always looked so protected there, too.

“Did you already get your associates?” You took drink and handed the flask back. 

“Nah,” he said, taking it. “Decided not to bother. What’s the point, just flunk out in a semester, maybe two. Figured I’d save myself a lot of grief and money and just cut to the chase, you know?” 

He took a drink.

“That’s bullshit,” you said, gaping at him. “Joel, come on, it’s just two years, you can…” 

“I can what?” He cut you off. “I can fuck around at community college, act like I was ever gonna amount to anything…” 

“Of course you’re going to amount to something,” you interrupted him this time. “You already amount to something and…” 

“I amount to something?” He asked, voice getting heated. “Really? Is that why you took off without a fuckin’ word? Just ditched me here, blocked me on fucking Facebook, changed your fuckin’ number? Because I amount to so damn much…” 

“Don’t.” 

“Don’t what!” He was on his feet now and you flinched at his raised voice. “Don’t talk about it? Don’t point out the fucking obvious? Don’t actually hold you accountable for your shitty actions?” 

“My shitty actions?” You gaped at him before you laughed darkly. “Oh wow, that’s fucking rich coming from you…” 

“Yeah, yours!” He yelled. “Because I sure as shit don’t know what the fuck I did…” 

“Bullshit you don’t know what you did,” you snapped. “Come on, Joel, don’t pretend that you’re dumb. Don’t pretend that I’m dumb. We both know…” 

“I don’t know shit! I don’t know a fuckin’ thing when it comes to you, Goldie! I know you left! I know your mom wouldn’t give me your number! I know you apparently never even fucking thought about me…” 

“You don’t know a goddamn thing…” 

“I do know that you showed up here with that fucking guy!” He pressed on. “What the fuck is that? How old is he, hm?” 

“It’s not your fucking business!” 

“Should be someone’s fucking business!” He snapped. “Because he has to be, what, twice your age?” 

“So what if he is? I’m an adult, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want…” 

“An adult,” he laughed but there was no humor in it. “Adult, you can’t even buy your own fucking booze and you’re, what, fucking some 50-year-old man? What is he, your fucking professor, that it?” 

“He’s 40!” You snapped, on your feet, awkwardly off balance with your missing shoe. “And who cares how I met him, he thinks I’m smart! He wants to be around me, he looks out for me, he…” 

“He’s takin’ advantage of you is what he’s fuckin’ doing!” Joel’s chest was heaving. “Been watching him control you all goddamn day! You really think he cares about you? Knows you? You’re just gonna be one of many to him, Goldie, he probably does this with every pretty girl in his damn classes…” 

“Does he propose to them?” Your left hand flew in between you, palm facing you as you held it up. There was a large, solitary oval diamond on your ring finger. Joel felt sick. “I’m not just some girl to him, I’m not just another lay in a long line of lays. He loves me, he respects me and I love him and I don’t need your fucking judgement, Joel.” 

“Doll?” Joel’s head whipped around to see that fucking guy poking his head out of the door you’d propped open with your missing shoe. “Everything OK?” 

“Fine,” you smiled a little and shrugged out of Joel’s coat, handing it back to him. “Just needed some air.” 

“Folks are looking for you,” he said, looking over at Joel for a moment. “Should get back.” 

“Right,” you said, taking a deep breath for a moment before looking back at Joel. “Good to catch up, I guess. You really should think about getting your associates at least. It’d do you good.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond, limping awkwardly for the door before delicately putting your foot into the black pump as your fucking fiance held onto you. 

Joel gave himself a few minutes to calm down before going back inside and finding Tommy. 

He didn’t stay. 

Instead, he dropped Tommy at his mom’s house and headed to the bar near his apartment that he liked best. He played there sometimes, just him and his voice and his guitar, knowing full well that there’d never be a record label scout in the crowd but it felt good pretending. 

It was still early, the bar pretty dead, and he took a seat off to the side before ordering a Shiner. He sat there, grinding his teeth and trying not to think of you with him. It wasn’t even that he got to be with you all the time instead of Joel. If you didn’t want Joel, fine, he wasn’t going to force himself on you but fuck, couldn’t you see what was right in front of you? That you deserved better than that? 

“Hey.” 

Joel almost jumped at the sound of someone next to him. He turned to find a woman there, about the same age as him. She was beautiful, with dark skin and curly hair and eyes it would be very easy to get lost in if he could get lost in anything right then. 

“Hey,” he replied, looking back toward the bar and taking another sip of his beer. 

“Mind if I sit here?” She asked. 

Joel shrugged. 

“Thanks,” she said, climbing up on the stool next to him. “Don’t really feel like dealing with the attention I get when I sit by myself but I desperately needed a drink…” 

She leaned over the bar and flagged down the bartender before ordering a whiskey on the rocks. 

“That good a day?” Joel asked after a moment. 

“Something like that,” she sighed. Jimmy, the bartender, set her drink in front of her and she took a sip before sighing. “Looks like about the same for you.” 

“Yup,” he said. 

“Want to talk about it?” She asked after a moment. 

“Not really,” he replied. She nodded. “You?” 

“No,” she said. “I’m Ashley, by the way.” 

“Joel.” 

“Good to meet you, Joel,” she smiled a little. 

He sat there with her for a while. He liked her well enough, he supposed. She was nice and lightly funny in a way that didn’t cut him deep. But when she smiled, she smiled like you. Slow and easy at first and then spreading wide like your whole self was cracking open with it. Fuck, he’d always loved making you smile like that. He missed making you smile like that. 

So when he finished his beer and didn’t want to be away from that smile, not yet, he asked if she wanted to come back to his place. 

“Sure,” she smiled like you. “That’d be nice.” 

They skipped the pretense of it, not bothering to feel each other up on the couch or make a pot of coffee that would sit untouched until morning. Instead, they went straight to his bedroom, pawing at each other’s clothes and pulling their bodies free of their confines as quickly as possible. 

Joel kissed her deep and hard and desperate and she pressed her soft, plush body against his and it felt good, getting lost in another person like this. It seemed like the only time in his life that he wasn’t stuck living at least halfway in some other reality where things had turned out different was when he was inside someone else. He sought it out like an addict, always searching for that next high, anything that would put him far away from the low he lived in. But he was careful. Always used a condom, always got at least some feel for the woman he was fucking first so he felt like he could trust her. 

But he was reckless with Ashley. He needed to feel something else too bad to put much thought into any of it. He reached for his nightstand and fumbled in the top drawer, pulling the last condom from the box and making a mental note to buy more when he got paid next. He tore it with his teeth and realized too late that he’d caught more than just the foil pack when he did.

“Fuck,” he panted, already naked on top of her. “Do you have…” 

“No,” she said, all breathless and needy below him. “But it’s OK. I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I’m OK with it if you are.” 

He looked down at her in the darkness, the moonlight casting shadows over her face. But then she smiled at him, slow at first then all at once. Just like you. 

“Really,” she said. “It’s fine.” 

“Fuck it,” he said, lining himself up with her entrance, the soft, wet heat of her pulling him in. 

“That’s the idea,” she smiled and then gasped as he pushed into her, chasing that high with her body below him. 

He fucked into her until she came and then she pushed him on his back, fucking herself down on him and Joel looked up at her and got the sense that she was in this for the same reasons he was. That this had very little to do with him. 

“Gonna come,” he warned, his hands on her waist. “Should pull out…” 

“Don’t,” she panted. “About to come again, fuck, just… just let me…” 

Her hands spread wide on his chest and she rode him harder, faster before pushing him in deep and coming around him, the pulsing of her walls setting off his orgasm, only aware enough to care for half a second before it hit that he shouldn’t be coming inside a total fucking stranger. 

She collapsed on top of him and he held her for a moment, not able to shake the feeling that he’d just made a monumental mistake. It reminded him of the morning after prom, the morning after the last time he came inside someone without protection. How afraid he’d been that he’d ruined things for you, that he’d gotten you pregnant and destroyed your life. But he hadn’t. At least, not that he knew of. He just lost you instead.

Ashley left not long after, just a quick “Thanks, Joel. That was fun.” after he gave her a glass of water. They swapped phone numbers but, in the moment, it seemed like pretense. This was what you did after a one night stand to pretend like it wasn’t a one night stand. It felt better if you could lie to yourself and say that every random fuck was just the start of a relationship that didn’t pan out. He didn’t plan to call her. He didn’t expect to hear from her again. 

He was wrong. 

Next Chapter

A/N: We all know what happened there with Ashley, right?

OK, cool.

Hope you all enjoyed this little glimpse at the last time Joel and Goldie saw each other before they reunited at the same bar where Joel picked up Sarah's mom 12 years earlier! These two, they kill me, I swear.

Thanks so much for reading the menace that is high school best friend!Joel. I'm in love with him, I fear. I hope you are, too.

Love you!

[mhsdatgo]

Since GOT they’ve been using rape and abuse to humble or break a woman/Girl because they aren’t the “right” kind of woman. They don’t ride a dragon or yield a sword. They don’t fight against their period typical role in life that they were born and raised in. They’re not “A guys girl” or the “I don’t have any girl friends, they’re too much drama” types who prefer the company of men to women, who would rather train with a sword and not learn embroidery. They don’t have dialogue that vaguely sounds more 21st century than Middle Ages.

These women are seen as of less value than our little dragon riding, sword and fist fighting tomboys. So they need to be taught that if you had just been more like this or more like that you wouldn’t have been brutalized and abused. The things that were done to you by other people is all your fault and you deserved it.

This show/franchise is not even in the same room as feminism.

👏👏👏 Nothing more to add anon. No lie was told.

The sad thing is, this is not what I got from the books of asoiaf at all. Women's experience was never told in juxtaposition to others. There is no humbling or brutalizing other women as a "punishment" for not being better, more rebellious, or bolder than others. The books tell stories of suffering and that's it. The way shows and fandoms decide to try and force other characters into another one's story for the sole purpose of comparing them so they prove that stanning one means having a moral high ground over another character's stans is the most idiotic thing to ever have happened among fandoms, to say the least. Especially when the two characters in question don't even know each other.

Just look at the way Sansa and Dany are treated in the fandom. Have a shot for every time Sansa in King's Landing is called a tradwife as if this wasn't a girl in middle school trying to survive they're talking about, or for every time she's called jealous of Dany. Imagine if a stranger girl with three dragons cames knocking on your door demanding that you and all of your people and their mama bend the knee to her and you are the jealous one and the villain because you just... Don't? Also, you deserve to be threatened with death when you pose a reasonable question, and you need to take it and be better and shut up. Then you're a "girls' girl" deserving of respect, etc.

We want strong female characters to think for themselves, except when that "thinking for oneself" isn't the same thing as kissing the ground the fan favourite girl walks on.

If only fandoms paid more mind to what makes a character likeable or unlikeable in their eyes BASED ON THE CHARACTER ITSELF, and not on their perspective on their faves, interacting with them would be way more fun. Books/shows like asoiaf/GOT or F&B/HotD aren't places where you just choose a character you like and that's it, she's an icon she's a legend and she is the moment. If it was, it would either be a story for kids or a hell for Mare Sues' fans. As long as you treat asoiaf characters like deities that can do no wrong and everyone else as villains in need of redemption, you should step back and read something else.

This is something that needs to be accepted even between writers and directors, btw. Just look at what F&B was turned into. Girlboss vs Girlfail. Blacks got the Girlboss, the virtuous rightful heir, good mother fine ruler, Greens' got the Girlfail, the rape enabler, the boy mom, the tradwife, you name it.

No, it doesn't matter that the latter is doing everything she can possibly do. She was a piece of shit the moment she stopped toiling behind the former because everyone is meant to be like or kneel before girlboss with dragon. Only then are your ambitions respectable. If not, fuck you, you're nothing. Everything that happens to you is your fault. I'll be in the front seats cheering for when everything you love is ripped brutally from you.

Even when your grown-up son rapes a maid. Even when girlboss with dragon threatens to put your people to the torch because you won't bend the knee.

TL;DR: There's no need to compare/stone certain female characters for being what they are instead of a completely different type. If all of them were tomboyish with swords or feminine with embroidery, it would be boring. You aren't better than anyone for having preferences. Also, learn how to blame men when they fuck up. It's great for the bowel.

[emo-nova]

Update time for some good ol' Teen Wolf, ig? i'm on episode 7 of season 2, and now I am definitely seeing some clips that i saw that was making me interested in the show as well as aspects within the fandom spaces.

Never understood the whole idea of Pack mom Stiles thing until I saw Stiles basically be the first to clock that 1, she is in seizure, 2, she may have an issue with the kanima venom (more than others) and 3, to be able to help her he needs to go to Derek cause Scott defo doesn't know. I didn't see it in the beginning, but I can see what people are seeing in it.

Another aspect, Stiles predicting Matt as the villain was such a rewarding scene. Mainly because I have been spoiled, I don't mind them, sometimes I actively look for them to see how the writers handle certain characters plus a summary isn't always true to what actually happened depending on interpretations.

You know what wasn't? Stiles' dad not being told. Or Melissa. Can these two be in on it now? Please? I'm mildly done with the charades on both ends mainly because the friction between two parties is simply miscommunication, plus it would be interesting to have Stiles' be open to this now so that we can see more of a struggle for the Stilinski family when the Sheriff *carries on* heading into danger when he knows. Same with Melissa, I think it would help create more stakes, but it will needed to be handled with care, that she can notice when a patient might have been involved with the supernatural which she can tell the sheriff. It'll make a good feedback loop for the adults, me thinks.

Onto Scott and Alison, I am noticing the writers are now ramping up a more heaviness to their relationship. This is no longer about puppy love but genuine wanting to carry on together, on both ends. And the touch with Jackson being used as the mouthpiece of the writers to foreshadow something more sinister lurking within Alison's future and her decisions. I honestly can not wait for Alison's either degression or progression as a character, as an aspiring writer who likes to study stories of any kind, I would have her digress to create a more nuance version of her character especially with her and Scott creating friction between each other. The friction I'm talking about is Alison's fear of being truly hopeless, unable to actually help herself out of a situation, this could be due to her being raised to be independent and to be a leader within the Argents. Scott on the other hand has a total Hero Complex, wanting to save as many people as possible, yada yada (mild affection now, he's grown on me), wants to be there for Alison *always* which contradicts Alison's want of independence.

Derek, so far, has been following a characterisation I would do for him (after that abysmal training set) cautious and careful with his betas, almost paranoid about their safety with mild disregard for his own in time of the full moon. I would like to see more Boyd though, you have an entire episode on him, and he doesn't get to appear in that scene??? BS, I want Boyd, Erica and Isaac have a moment of annoyance at Derek for being so careful with them. Would I have Derek explain to them why he's so cautious? Not fully, no, I would have Derek explain simply "I am your leader, I look after you and train you. And I need to look after you by ensuring you don't get caught between the Kamina and the Hunters."

Let Derek be a vague, paranoidly responsible Alpha that noticed that his first method didn't help for shit and changing the curriculum for these three because Scott's training was a *mess* and not some fucking dictator alpha guy. But knowing the writing team they most likely will mishandle Derek's character like a child given a machete in the garden which is disappointing.

That's all I got so far, but enjoy my ranting about what happened so far.

Also thank you to the kind soul that told me the timeline of season 1 and 2, I didn't realise that it was such short periods of time! Thank you again :)

[soobrat]

fuck up my life; hjs

milestone celebration masterlist

MINOR CHANGES MADE TO PREV ACT!

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ pairing; han jisung x afab!reader

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ words; 9.7k

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ genre; this isn't your average every day angst, this is... advanced angst (+ a smidge of smut)

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ warnings; very toxic relationship, two deplorable dirty cheaters, violence, graphic descriptions of injury (not for the squeamish), vague PIV, flashback mini smut, let me know if I missed anything, they're just cruel okay?

↻ ◁ || ▷ : I've never rewritten something as much as I've rewritten this. It's a big chapter (in terms of what happens) but it's still... well you'll have to read it. There's a reason the only smut is a flashback.

act ii ➻ glimpse of us

“Are you sure about her, Minho?” Something about Chan’s tone told you he wasn’t going to respect Minho’s decision either way. 

Minho sighs, you can tell he’s already sick of this. “Her and I have been together since we were freshmen. You guys don’t know her like I do.”

“I know her.” You inch a little closer, dangerously close to the doorway. Is Changbin there? Why the fuck is Changbin there?! “The amount of times I’ve been in detention with her, I know her plenty. I know she used to flirt with every guy there. Including me.”

Fuck, fuck. Minho doesn’t know about that, he doesn’t know about any of the shit Changbin saw. They never crossed paths in high school, so why the fuck is he here?

“That doesn’t matter, it’s been years since then. Ever heard of maturing? Bet you haven’t.”

You wince. You’re happy he’s sticking up for you, but his tone reminds you of your first time meeting his family. The way they reacted to his tone showed you this wasn’t normal for him. You gut clenches. Was his mom right?

“I know her, too.”

Your heart had effectively fallen out of your ass at the sound of Seungmin’s voice. 

“I probably know her better than you. I say get out while you can. You can’t fix whatever she’s got going on.” 

Your eyes glaze over, facing the wall but not focusing on anything. You’ve never heard Seungmin talk about you like that. This is it. There’s nothing he could use to paint Seungmin as unreasonable. Chan was an unlikable, judgmental asshole far before you came into the picture and Changbin was a drunken imbecile who flunked out of high school. But Seungmin… Seungmin was the only thing you and Minho had in common before you met. He’s a great person and even better friend. Not the type to talk shit about people or judge them unless it was truly warranted.

The type to properly convince Minho that his mother was indeed right about you changing him for the worse.

“Hey Seungmin,” You hear a chair get pushed back, the legs screeching against the wooden floor agonizingly slow. You hear the impact and the sound pulled from Seungmin because of it. You hear all of Minho’s friends react in shock and anger. You hear them order him to leave, hissing that he’s throwing his life away for a toxic bitch.

You stand there stunned, forgetting to skitter away before Minho walks out of the door. He looks down at you numbly, but you can see the regret seeping into his expression. He throws an arm around your shoulder and the two of you walk away from all his friends.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung thought this would be the perfect environment.

“What compelled you to make that choice?”

Jisung asks himself that every day. He couldn’t dig for an answer, so it wouldn’t magically come to him now. But when he looks around after several minutes of quiet introspection, he sees a circle of impatient faces. It doesn’t distract him enough that his brain will stop flashing images of what Jiwoo will look like once he tells her this, but the words materialize nonetheless.

He’s anxious yet determined while he reevaluates these words before he speaks them into existence.

“Jisung. Jisung wake up!” 

He shoots up, brain on red alert as he looks around. Jiwoo’s jaded sigh sends fury coursing through Jisung’s veins. He looks down at his soiled underwear.

“Again?! It’s so– it’s so fucking disgusting! Clean it up!” Jiwoo kicks the comforter away before storming out of the room. Jiwoo has gained a lot of colorful language lately. Despite that, she is still shaking him awake for a drizzle of jizz. The two of them don’t even face each other in bed anymore, so she doesn’t have any on her. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, fucking rolls him over to check if it happened, and sounds the alarms like it’s defcon goddamn one. And if it’s that urgent for her and only her, why doesn’t she go sleep on the couch and leave Jisung the fuck alone? Now he’s going to function on less sleep at his job that provides sorely needed income for their new home.

Jisung snatches the bedding off the mattress, obeying her wishes like he always does. Fuming silently.

The memories crackle under his eyelids like torturous fireworks. All the moments that nudged him again and again and again until he was teetering off the edge of his admiration for Jiwoo.

After a quick inhale and beat of hesitation, the words are close to flying free like newly unshackled birds dancing in the wind. 

“My fiancée is a... m-my fiancée and I just need work.” Jisung cracks an awkward smile, reeling those angry thoughts back in and locking them up. He can't say things like that in a room full of strangers.

He looks around to see a room full of confusion and indifference. The instructor gives him a sympathetic look.

"Any one else wanna share?"

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“We might as well get some bleach.” Jiwoo gestures half-heartedly at a bottle of bleach on the shelf. Jisung glares at her, knowing she’s not going to even look at him to give her demands. He rips the bleach off the shelf and drops it into the cart with a loud, heavy thud. She finally looks over at him, agitated.

“Why don’t you get extra detergent while you’re at it? Maybe two bottles since the washing machine has been working overtime.” Jiwoo is looking now, her eyes posing a challenge. She’s noticed the pissy attitude that Jisung has by now. Instead of getting upset that he is constantly annoyed in her presence like he thought she would, she goads him to do something about it.

Jisung tongues his cheek, knowing he could drop a bomb on her that would send her crumbling to the floor in tears. She’s gotten too comfortable with disrespecting him. It started with the sheets, but there were certain jabs and insults that revealed her true feelings.

“Maybe if you went for a jog or even to the gym, your brain would have something else to think about other than sex, sex, and sex.”

“Look at the bags under your eyes. It’s 9 am for god sakes. You didn’t work late yesterday either, you’re just sleeping half the day away.”

“This house is a mess every time I get back! I mean— how hard is it to put the cereal box back on top of the fridge? And your snack wrappers are beside the garbage can. Trash goes in the can.”

“What happened to those hobbies of yours?”

He should’ve told her then, but he really wants to tell her now. He goes to look her in the eye but notices she’s looking past him in confusion. He turns, flinching when he sees a face he recognized. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know who he was after such a reaction, but he couldn’t fool himself into believing he didn’t recognize him either. He could never forget a face that exhibited such rage, pain, and regret.

“Do we know you, sir?” Jiwoo asks, voice losing its intensity from earlier.

Minho… that was the name you pleaded for in your sleep. The one you whispered in fear when he found out about the two of you. Right now he just has rage in his eyes.

Minho walks away without a word. When Jisung looks back at Jiwoo, her face is softer. She looks at him with doe eyes, the ones that appear when she’s not aware she resembles a fawn. Moments like these twist Jisung’s stomach even more. Times where Jiwoo is like her old self, no defensiveness or agitation. It’s the Jiwoo he fell in love with, whose image is eroded through his eyes in favor of someone else. No matter how much he forces himself, he doesn’t remember that moment when she broke his favorite anime figure when she makes that face. He remembers the first time he caressed your face after he finished doing unspeakable things to you. The way you looked at him in adorable horror, horror he couldn’t really decipher then.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You could kind of smell his body wash, but the smell of mildew was overwhelming. Not enough for you to peel the towel off your pillow. 

Minho left the house spotless. He cleaned up after your tantrum, and despite hours of back and forth with yourself, you can’t figure out whether he did it before or after he decided to leave. Did he clean it out of empathy? Picking up the glass with his bare hands and not caring if it cuts him because he’s so torn up that he hurt you? Or did he do it with a smile he couldn’t hide, skipping as he moved around the apartment he’d finally be abandoning for a better life?

You took a lot of time opening cupboards and drawers trying to find one sign of him ever being there. The only thing you found was a towel he used after a shower and left on the sink.

After some time in a psych ward, you decided to leave that house before it killed you. So you never did find out if he came back for it. 

You let the older woman who owns the complex know you’d be moving out. She was confused, unaware that Minho had left. 

“I speak to him all the time and he never told me.”

Light swam in your eyes for the first time in months. You take a quick inhale, darting your tongue out to moisten your cracked lips as you think through your next move. You could ask her to tell him that you’re okay. That you miss him. That you love him so much. But he wouldn’t be able to see your face, that there’s no shit eating grin or feigned regret. 

“Tell him that I’m moving out, so he doesn’t have to pay for the apartment anymore. Please.” The smile you force flickers off your face immediately after. You breeze past her with your bags before she can pry.

The view from your window is less bleak, and you’re no longer faced with empty areas that used to be filled with Minho. This is the place you and Minho used to talk about leaving to. He was frantic because his friends were urging Seungmin to press charges. You saw Seungmin not long after that, one side of his face swollen and bruised. That visual made you sick, so you didn’t mind Seungmin glaring at you and turning the other direction. 

Thankfully, Seungmin never pressed charges. 

You laugh, the silly manner in which you do so pushes you to laugh more. You spoke about leaving to this very place with two different men and you’re still here alone. You’re truly amazing.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Another day, another useless, petty fight. 

“It’s not normal, the way you are. I don’t care what your bros say, I don’t care what those dude movies tell you, most men aren’t like this. They aren’t animals who go feral at the sign of a tit!” 

Jisung chuckles, he can’t help it. Jiwoo uses her new naughty words like a child. He gets more pissed off looking at her smug face, so he’s glad it’s fading after he laughed.

“Something funny? There’s nothing funny about you being a pervert.”

“You don’t even know.” Jisung mutters before laughing again. 

Jiwoo moves closer, her brows lowering until they are perched right on top of her eyes. “What did you say?”

“I said what is the goal here? You bitch at me every day and I’m still the same.” The words fly free and Jisung feels lighter because of it. Jiwoo looks offended, the goading she’s been doing for weeks now finally working. 

“I bitch? Is that what I do?”

“Yes! You bitch at me at the crack of dawn–”

“9 am isn’t the crack of dawn!”

“I work late! My sleep schedule doesn’t just change because I don’t work two days out of the week! I’m! Tired!” Jisung’s volume goes flying against his will. Jiwoo flinches, this sudden change from Jisung pushing her to be incensed. She opens her mouth to fire back but Jisung is on a roll. 

“You call to bitch at me at work, you bitch at me when I come home, you bitch to yourself about me when I’m in the other room. All you do is bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch.” It’s Jisung now that sounds like a child discovering naughty words as he hurls them at his fiancée.

The breath Jiwoo exhales is shaky, her eyes glassy. She raises her hand, jaw dropping open to say her response but she stops. She hesitates in silence and Jisung’s anger builds while he watches her. Is she really hurt because he retaliated? Isn’t that what she’s egging him on to do?

“Go on! Say what you were going to say.” His volume still high, he causes Jiwoo to flinch after standing in silence for so long. 

““You don’t even know”... That’s what you said, right?” Jiwoo’s goading face is back. It’s mixed with hurt, and she doesn’t even know what to be hurt about yet. But she’s asking for it, and he’s going to give it to her.

He does what he always does, imagine her reaction. He’s entertained the scenario that she crumbles to the ground and begs to know why, shatters every dish against the ground, guts him like a fish, et cetera. Whatever happens, there’s only one way to find out, right? He just hopes he’s able to go in his room and read comics in peace without her–

His room. Their room. Suddenly he’s thinking back to the day they bought this house. She was only a little snippy then, so Jisung was a little excited. He could stop seeing you sprawled out, completely exhausted on his bed as he crawled over you. No amount of exhaustion ever stopped you from begging for more. Because of his guilt he didn’t accept Jiwoo’s offer to let her family pay for the house in full. He felt that weight off his shoulders for a little while. Then they move in and all traces of you move to Jiwoo. Even now, the hurt on her face only aches his heart because he sees you the moment you realized he was going back to Jiwoo. He only soiled the sheets more often after they moved and his thoughts of you became more shameless. Of course Jiwoo would be aggravated by him. Telling her the truth will morph that aggravation into something that could get him kicked out.

“What don’t I know, Jisung?” The look in Jisung’s eye makes her ask with more urgency. Jisung wonders about you in this moment of pressure. He wonders if you were serious about your proposition, or if it was just the two of you fantasizing that you betrayed your significant others just to get off. You asked the night after Minho ended things and he laughed mid stroke. If you were serious, you were probably hurt at that moment and somewhere alone right now. Would you let him stay with you after Jiwoo kicks him out? After he chose her over you?

“Hello?!”

“I get off on you being disgusted by me.” Jisung shouts, rendering Jiwoo speechless. This is what he’s been waiting for. She’s silent, the bitching has stopped, but he can’t help the disturbed feeling he has. Words leap from his turbulent stomach, stumbling from his lips.

“I… hump the bed thinking about you with semen on your body… and being distressed by it–”

Jiwoo gasps in horror, rushing away from Jisung like he’s a monster and not the man she’s marrying next month. She shuts herself in their room. The slam of the door and her shocked sobs echo torturously in his brain. He sits on the couch and clamps his hands over his ears. He should be consoling her, she’s going to be his wife. 

What can he say? He told her the truth and now she’s sobbing because of who he is. That’s how all this shit started. She yells at him at the beginning of every day because of who he is. Because he’s dreaming about you. About how your eyes light up when he reveals who he is. 

Next month he’ll be stuck in a constant state of being ashamed.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You press “play sound”, following the beep until you find where you tossed your purse before passing out last night. You fetch it from the bathtub, picking up all its contents that spilled into the basin. You fiddle with the case of the airtag, flipping it over and brushing your thumb over the exposed metal. You peer at your phone, noting the “shared with Minho❤️‍🩹”.

Can he willingly remove himself? Did he even remember that your tag is in his phone? Would he look for you–

You close the app, inhaling deeply to distract yourself from your thoughts. In your mind you reopen the app and hit the “stop sharing” button. You replay the action over and over. It’s the healthy thing to do, right? And it’s so easy. Instead, you go back downstairs and lie on the now dry towel. The smell of mildew has gotten stronger now. There isn’t even a hint of his body wash anymore. Looking at his pictures was a little too painful, this towel was the only thing that comforted you. Now it was just smelly and empty.

The emptiness left room for the thoughts to come through and terrorize you. Would Jisung come? Unlikely judging by his and his fiancée’s social media. The wedding was full steam ahead. Maybe if the two of you had kept in contact during all this time it’d be different. But you deleted all your socials and changed your number. There’s only one way for him to see you, it was perhaps too much to fly here for someone he just saw as a booty call. 

You shiver, pulling your blanket up over your shoulders and clenching your eyes shut.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“I’m staying at my friend’s house.” Jiwoo emerged from the room hours later. Not half asleep and asking him to come to bed, fully awake and with a duffle bag of clothes in hand. He thought maybe they’d be able to cuddle it out. He always loved cuddling Jiwoo. But that’s just like her. She’s not vulnerable, and if she is, she doesn’t show it to him. She’ll come back in a few days with her eyes nearly puffed shut from crying the entire time she was there, pretending like things are normal.

She was never the pitiful one.

The next morning, she’s not back. Jisung decides to head to the grocery store since their last trip ended early after Jiwoo got spooked by Minho. He walked around aimlessly, trying to think of things Jiwoo would get. Every item he picks up, he imagines how Jiwoo would scold him and make him feel stupid for buying it.

He ends up storming back out of the store and storming toward the bus stop. Jisung loses steam once he notices he’s heard footsteps right behind him since he exited the store. Footsteps are a normal thing to hear when you’re walking down a sidewalk. Even if they seem to keep speeding up. That’s what Jisung keeps telling himself. 

He’s afraid to face the truth and even more afraid to turn around. Because of this he’s shoved into an alley, already receiving a strike to the face the minute he recognizes who’s doing it. His glasses fly to the ground which accentuates how unfocused his vision becomes. Jisung staggers backward, shakily trying to use the brick wall behind him to straighten himself back up. Minho delivers another punch straight to Jisung’s jaw, sending him to the floor this time. Jisung writhes in pain, muttering ‘stop’ while moving his sore jaw as little as possible. His feet slip against a rancid liquid seeping from the dumpster and he lands on his bare forearm, scraping it as he raises his other arm in a vain attempt to stop Minho.

Minho digs his fingers into Jisung’s much frailer arms and flips him over with ease. 

“You moved out with her? Gave her a ring? Hm?”

Before Jisung can even begin to understand or ask what or why, Minho continues his onslaught. Minho grips his shirt with one hand and balls the other, sending it into Jisung’s face over and over.

“How long have you two been together?” Minho grits, but his tone still has this faux questioning tone. His brows are furrowed, trying to hide the fury in his eyes with the confusion he’s trying to sell.

A punch to the eye has Jisung’s vision fading to black. Fear for his mortality sets in as he tries to block strikes from this deranged man.

“What?! What do you want?! I’m not with her anymore!” Jisung yells incredulously, his voice cracking through his bleeding lips.

“Your fiancée?” Minho responds breathlessly. Through the fog in his brain and the throbbing pain, confusion sets in. His brain isn’t focused enough to decipher why he’s asking about Jiwoo. 

“Are you sleeping with her?” Asks Jisung dumbly. He doesn’t mean it and it doesn’t come from jealousy. He physically can’t think and it’s spiking his anxiety even further. He wants Minho to get to the point but unfortunately Jisung just pissed him off even more. Minho’s nostrils flare, eyes blown completely wide as he shoves Jisung to the floor. Jisung’s head bounces off the pavement, sending him even further into a haze. 

He’s brought right back with yet another punch. Blood fills his mouth. Minho mutters something about how he’d never do something like that to you. 

“She’s not going to change because you want her to.” Jisung shouts urgently. He seems to have said the magic words since Minho lowers his fist. Jisung is wary, but his body relaxes anyway because it needs it. Any more agitation and Minho will induce a heart attack. 

“She told you about us didn’t she? She told you what she put me through?”

“Yes! And I’m sorry–”

“Apologize to your fiancée, motherfucker.” Minho spits, raising his fist again. 

“What do you want?! I can’t take back what happened!”

Minho lowers his fist to grab Jisung’s shirt with both hands, pulling him forward. 

“I want you to be a horrible person on your own. Don’t drag her into it. S-she fucks random men because she doesn’t know how to properly ask for attention.”

If Jisung’s brain wasn’t practically mush right now he’d roll his eyes. This is how she got away with it for so long, because he treats her like a child. She’s a woman he couldn’t handle. 

Jisung wasn’t aware he was glaring at the man until Minho yanked him closer. His breath was hot against his face and Jisung felt fear flood back into his body.

“But you,” Minho grabs Jisung’s face, one of his fingers digging into a cut on his cheekbone. Jisung whimpers helplessly. “You ruined everything! I could’ve helped her. She was close to tiring herself out and giving in. I would’ve taken her back to therapy… you made her comfortable.” Minho’s grip loosened the more he spoke, tears pooling in his eyes as his words lost their bite. As Minho got less angry Jisung felt more and more pissed, like it was transferring to him.

“That’s all bullshit. She told me the two of you have been dating since high school and you think she’d change now? You’re ruining your own life trying to fix who she is.” Jisung’s heart is beating rapidly like last night. He feels like he could take on the world. He’s already been glared at in disgust by his fiancée and beaten to a pulp by his mistress’s ex. Nothing can stop him from saying what the fuck he has to say, and they can divorce or kill him to stop. Jisung smirks.

“You don’t know shit. None of you know! She would never actually look at anyone else…” Minho loses more and more confidence and Jisung laps it up. He feels his body buzz once he realizes the information he has. Minho has no idea. Jiwoo has no idea. Nobody has even a fucking clue but they’re about to find out.

“Do you know that place she dreamed of moving to with you?” Jisung whispers, barely able to contain the laughter threatening to bubble up. Minho sports that look of sorrow from that day. If he thinks the fact you told Jisung about the secrets that were just for you and Minho was bad, he had another thing coming. The words rush out like a wave, sending a rush of sadistic joy through Jisung in its wake.

“She asked to run away with me too.” 

Jisung drops the bomb and gives Minho a little time to process. Only a little, because laughter bursts straight from Jisung’s chest, spit flying onto Minho’s face. Jisung watches with vindication as Minho struggles to process his words. He grapples with the fact that you’re not here to confirm, but also the fact Minho knows that with you? It’s possible.

Minho’s fist trembles around the soiled fabric of Jisung's shirt. A tear breaks free from Minho’s eye as he sends his fist into Jisung’s face with a pained grunt. Jisung’s smile slowly fades as he feels his face be mashed in. If he dies here, he dies an innocent victim and Jiwoo’s memories of him are never sullied by the full truth. Minho will be punished by his own naivety and you…

“Hey! Stop!” The frantic voice sounds distant. “Someone help!! Call the police!”

Jisung is dropped to the ground. The impact is hard enough that his vision is slowly fading.

“There’s a beach right in the backyard! Ngh-!” You point to your phone, your hand falling to the bed as Jisung sinks in deep. He pushes in deeper, grinning at how hollow your noises sound when he does that. He leans over your shoulder, reaching for the phone to bring it closer to his face.

“This is niiice.” He purrs next to your ear. You roll your eyes at his exaggerated intrigue, unable to see how focused his eyes are. 

“Give it back.”

Jisung bites his lip, swatting away your hand and grabbing your throat to keep you still. 

“Don’t get distracted, now…” He warns with a roll of his hips. He grins at the wanton moan he earns. “But um… how are you planning to pay for this?” His tone wavers, his authority becoming hard to maintain the more he stares at the photo.

“I don’t do shit with my life. No hobbies to pay for, no dinners with family or friends, no girls’ trips.” Jisung flinches, glancing at your pinched features to see if that last part was pointed. Your eyes flutter shut as a pleased, wispy moan floats from your lips.

“Minho takes care of the bills and rent so I started to consider quitting my job. Instead I started saving. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that…” You trail off, Jisung can feel your body stiffening under him. Your peaceful noises get caught in your throat.

“T-that I wanted to do something nice for him–” 

“Shhh…” Jisung clenches his hand tighter around your throat, trailing wet kisses on the shell of your ear. The light catches the tear that rolls down your cheek. Jisung tears his eyes away from it and returns to the listing. He takes note of the brick wall and black wood accents, how he can already hear the crashing waves while looking at the beach, how the house looks in the winter, the fairy lights, Aewol-eup, Jeju-si–

Jisung is hoisted up onto the stretcher. Whatever the people around him are yelling is beyond Jisung’s grasp. He coughs, blood gurgling in his throat. He blinks, his eyelids suddenly heavy. His body feels heavy. He exhales shakily, giving his body the rest it’s begging for.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Your eyes blink open, aching from the brightness of the sun. You groan, cursing yourself for not closing the curtains before passing out again. Flashes of last night play in your mind. A guy propositioned you yet again. You couldn’t find it in you. Whether it was because you associate one night stands with hurting Minho or because you only crave sex the way you and Jisung did it now, you don’t know. Possibly both.

You groan again, rolling out of bed and straight onto the floor. Getting drunk without the follow up of sex was not nearly as gratifying. None of this was gratifying, though. Too many loose ends and questions unanswered.  

You start your scavenger hunt for your bag. You don’t even bother using your phone, it’s always in one of three places. Not the bathroom, not the bedroom floor, so it must be the kitchen. You peer behind the island and surely enough, there it is. You pick it up, grasping at the airtag case out of habit. Horror floods your body once you realize the case is hollow. You turn it around as if the tag will magically be there. You turn your house upside down searching for the tiny thing, playing the sound over and over to no avail. 

You sink to the floor, unable to come to terms with your burgeoning emotions. A tear crawls down your cheeks. You usually reserve crying for getting drunk on wine over the weekends, but it’s out of your control. Nothing comes after. No sobbing or anger. Just emptiness. You look back at your phone, seeing that the tag’s location was updated. Someone else is carrying it god knows where as it moves along the map. Further and further away from you.

Your eyes flit down to the one person the item is shared with. You click the tab and then his name. “View Friend” and “Remove” are the options presented. You feel another tear roll. Your finger hovers over “View Friend”. It slowly moves down, your thumb thudding heavily against the “Remove” button.

You remain on the floor, your vision blurry with tears as you go through and delete every remnant of Minho from your phone. You get to an especially old one, a laugh bubbling from your throat at the way Minho is attempting to block the camera with his hand. You smile, a bittersweet feeling slowly peters out as you delete the last image.

“Goodbye Minho.”

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“Can you hear me Mr. Han?”

Jisung blinks, squinting at the bright lights above his head. He wriggles his fingers and toes, inhaling shallowly and painfully at the realization that he’s alive. A feeling of gratefulness washes over him as he clenches his eyes shut. He sees you behind his eyelids. He smiles, a warm feeling radiating from each memory of you that plays. He’s alive.

“Mr. Han?” Jisung vocalizes in response, wishing he wasn’t hooked up to fifty million machines so he could turn over. But he’s alive. You don’t have to be shocked by the news and have your getaway ruined. He imagines you getting the call and clenches his teeth. If you saw him like this… would you think differently of him? Have any doubts that he could dominate you? Take care of you? Or would you only see Minho that way? Minho… was he arrested?

Jisung’s eyes snap open, the pain suddenly peaking. The pulse reads 153 as the monitor beeps incessantly. 

“Jisung?!” He hears a woman’s voice and smiles through the throbbing pain. Now he can apologize to you, ask you if you still hate him. Tell you you shouldn’t because you left him. Tell you not to look at him.

“Jisung oh my god!” Jiwoo leans over him between the rush of nurses. She covers her mouth with shaky hands as she’s pulled away. Some of Jisung’s tension eases away upon seeing her.

“He’s my fiance!” Her piercing shrieks grow distant as Jisung’s brain gets foggy again.

The next morning the fog is lifted. Jiwoo’s figure to his left nags at him. He strains his neck to look at her, unable to disguise the contempt on his face. Luckily the bandages on both his brows does that for him. He got a couple stitches for the cut on his cheek, a bandage on his nose, and gauze shoved up both nostrils. A dull throbbing ache becomes increasingly apparent in his skull.

“I spoke to the police.” Jiwoo speaks, deepening the throb.

Jisung continues his tried and true method. Met with silence, Jiwoo continues.

“His name is Lee Minho. He’s the same guy who was staring at us in the grocery store. The same guy outside our old house. He hasn’t said much, just that he’ll cooperate with authorities. That throws getting a motive out the window.” Jiwoo’s eyes are trained on nothing until the last part, when she shoots a pointed look Jisung’s way. He rolls his eyes to a different direction. 

Jiwoo sighs shakily.

“I will be pressing charges. Our lawyer says we have a case since we saw him twice before the battery happened.”

“I don’t want to press charges.” Jisung says carefully, loaded with vexation.

“And I wonder why that is.” The urge to cry Jiwoo tried to suppress breaks free, her words unstable as her eyes moisten. Jisung craves the fog.

She waits again for him to explain. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t know where to start.

“Answer me Jisung!”

”I don’t know him, okay? Think about it, a strange man keeps appearing and just staring at us. Did he seem like he was running an errand and just happened to stop outside of our house? Was he shopping that day? Clearly he’s not right in the head, he needs help. Not to be incarcerated.” Before each word, Jisung’s mind threatens to stumble. "Even when we spoke the day he assaulted me... something wasn't right." His confidence skates along thin ice but still sails eerily smooth. He hazards a glance her way. She’s shocked, but her concern has considerably diminished. Her confidence slowly drains away until her head droops.

… Was that it? Is she back to thinking he's just a pathetic pervert instead of a sinister one?

“Well,” Jiwoo straightens her blazer, clearing her throat with a look of slight embarrassment on her face. “He’ll still face charges for the crime witnessed. There’s nothing we can do about that.”

The two sit in silence again, but Jisung can tell she isn’t waiting for him to speak. He can see her fidgeting in his peripheral. 

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just… you really scared me that night, Ji.” Her voice wavers and Jisung stirs uncomfortably in his hospital bed. “I was scared that I somehow didn’t know you after all. I know I’m being paranoid. I just want you to know that I love you so much.” Jiwoo reaches for his hand and in a split second of horror, Jisung flinches away. She looks at him, confusion and hurt taint her features so harrowingly. Every second he doesn’t remedy this is painful but he can’t. Especially not when Jiwoo adds to it.

“Haseul and I talked about it, and I was being too harsh. Sex addiction is a real problem, and you can’t control what you do in your sleep.” Despite feeling like their relationship was hanging by a thread mere minutes ago, he watches in awe as Jiwoo’s expression becomes more… chipper. “I want us to start off our future on the right foot. I mean, we have a house now. Ji… we’re getting married.” She sits on the side of the hospital bed, grabbing his hands with glassy, hope-filled eyes.

“This is it.” She whispers. Her voice sounds sweet. She means well, but Jisung’s hands stiffen in hers. This is what he wanted. Things will be better from here, she finally sees how she was smothering him. They’ll go home, cuddle, maybe have sex with a little more understanding and communication. Have a healthy marriage. One where she willingly ignores the fact that he finds pleasure in her displeasure. Where she doesn’t know how deep that dynamic runs.

She looks a little worried when he doesn’t respond. She strokes the side of his head. His hand twitches, wanting to swat her away as if mere contact with him will speed up the destruction of her that he’s sure to cause. 

“The doctor said you might be disoriented for a little while.” She forces a quick smile, to not worry him he assumes. An assumption that triggers nausea. The feeling builds until he’s jerking upright and covering his mouth. Jiwoo briefly panics before grabbing one of the emesis bags the nurse left. She hands it to Jisung just in the nick of time. She rubs his back, unaffected by the foul nature of it all. She collects the bag after confirming that he finished. The thought of getting out of there is unsubstantial. The lethargy overtaking him is anything but. 

Sleep whisks him away and wraps him tight. He thinks he’s waking up but it’s another dream. He makes his bed, goes to work, pours a cup of coffee, takes a jog. He cycles through many mundanities before reminding himself that he’s still asleep. He cycles again and winds up in the snow. The cold burns his hands. He looks down to see them shaking and bright red, as if they’d just been pulled from the snow. His subconscious distantly tries to wake him, too distant to penetrate his unconscious. 

It hurts, his hands are pulsing but he’s standing outside a house he has no clue how to get into the house. Rooted in place, he cranes his neck to try and find an entrance. His head reaches far enough that he can see inside. There’s a fire going, the room glows a comfy orange that his frigid body longs for. He sees a figure on the couch, huddled up as if they’re as cold as he is. He reaches his hand out, accidentally knocking against the window. When you look at him it brings about an incomprehensible feeling of dread. 

You’re sobbing, yet still shooting him a bitter glare. You call out his name. His brain rattles, apologies spilling from his lips while he’s still rooted in place. You call him over and over, each call of his name makes his body jolt. He can hear his subconscious now and he’s sent into a frenzy to escape. Trying to wake feels like he’s being pulled apart in all different directions. 

He wakes with a gasp, the fog over his brain too thick to bring him out of the snow. 

“I’m sorry.” He sobs, realizing he’s being held by Jiwoo, still in the hospital bed. As she hugs him, chanting about how happy she is that he woke up, he’s punching himself for not speaking to her. Letting her know that he wasn’t disoriented when he didn’t speak to her. He should make up for leaving her hanging after she apologized and bared her soul to him. His brain might be foggy now but he has the ability to comfort his girlfriend in this time of concern for him. 

“I know it’s hard, you don’t have to say anything honey.” She whispers tearfully, sniffling as she pulls away from him. 

But he doesn’t comfort her, or come clean about willingly ignoring her.

The doctor explains to him and Jiwoo that he needs more time in the hospital. More time in what feels like purgatory.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung isn’t sure what all this activity in his brain means. Is his anxiety active because he doesn’t want to see Minho or because he wants him to come out already. He bounces his leg quietly as he looks around. The only other visitor stands from the chair in tears, leaving him completely alone. While his eyes are trained on the person leaving, Minho sits on the other side of the glass. 

“You look like shit.” He speaks into the phone. Minho’s voice focuses Jisung’s attention back to him. Seeing Minho makes his face ache. 

“You do too.” Jisung says with a sigh of irritation. When Minho narrows his eyes at him he wonders if they’ve already started off on the wrong foot. 

“Coming here to gloat some more?” Minho asks, his eyes actually requesting information despite his retort. Jisung sighs as his eyes dance around the room. He reevaluates why he’s even here, if it was a mistake, and if he should just leave.

“We’re not pressing charges.” He starts, figuring he should at least tell him that. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be in there, or how waiting for the news of whether or not he'll be taken to court felt. He hopes that giving him the news now eases whatever concerns he’s hiding away.

“Is your head still a little fuzzy?” Minho smiles crookedly, looking him up and down. 

“No, I’m completely conscious.”

The quick answer catches Minho off guard, his smug attitude dissipating as he readjusts in his seat.

“Well, thanks.” He glances briefly at Jisung, his expression reading confusion. “And wipe that worried look off your face. I think I deserve a little time in here if I’m honest.”

Jisung doesn’t want to unpack the sound of reflection in Minho’s voice. The fact that it sounds like Minho is referring to more than the aggravated battery. As far as Jisung knows, you were the only wrongdoer in the relationship. The deeply troubled look you sported whenever anything slightly related to her boyfriend was brought up made Jisung assume you were being abused. You quickly shot that down. He can’t even begin to understand how Minho came to the conclusion that he belongs in there.

“I want to tell her the truth.” Jisung blurts out, shame overwhelming him and casting his eyes to the floor. Minho is quiet for a moment.

“I only did it because I was so worked up, but it’s nice to see that I knocked some sense into you.” Jisung looks up to see Minho with no smile on his face. Jisung feels like he’s being looked down upon despite being on this side of the glass.

“So I should do it? What if… what if it just ruins her faster?” Minho continues to hold Jisung in his judgmental gaze, either torturing him or reflecting on his answer.

“Do you care about her?”

“Of course I do.” Jisung says, a little disappointed by such shallow reasoning. “She’s my fiancée.”

“Not her.” Minho hisses, as if it’s obvious. Jisung’s eyes slowly widen as it dawns on him. He thinks of you, spreading noisy color throughout his mind. Thinking of you is always so complicated but when faced with such a simple question, Jisung feels like he can finally make sense of it. He looks at Minho, cowering away soon after realizing what information he just relayed and to whom. 

“Then don’t.” Minho states bluntly, a pinprick of venom piercing Jisung. It’s slow acting, leaving Jisung in a daze as he tries to make sense of his visit.

“And since you hit me with a truth bomb, let me help you out.” Minho cuts his reflection short, causing Jisung to look at him cautiously. "Stop acting like you care about your fiancée. You’re just lying to yourself.”

Minho watches Jisung process the truth, satisfied when no signs of fighting it crop up. Jisung hangs up the phone, slowly standing from his seat and leaving the room. Minho goes to stand himself after sitting in a little silence. 

“Not so fast, Lee. You got another visitor.” The guard says, pushing against his chest. Minho turns around to see someone standing where Jisung just was, their head cut off by the wall above the window. He feels his heart fall before finally moving his feet. He sits down hesitantly, finally meeting your nervous gaze. Your eyes dart around before you grab the phone. 

“I-I wanted to come in long enough after him that you knew I didn’t come with him. I wouldn’t do that.” You rush out, still standing and fisting your t-shirt. Minho smiles lazily, tilting his head toward the chair.

“Stay a while.” He jokes. Your stiffness melts only a little, offering a stilted smile before sitting down. Just like Jisung, your eyes don’t linger on him long, bouncing around the room. 

“So?” He says, hoping he reminds you that you have a time limit. Your eyes finally linger, and the look on your face suggests Jisung wasn’t lying when he said Minho looked like shit. He sighs.

“Listen, don’t worry about me–”

“You’re a good person.”

Your words give him pause. His chest starts to ache and the sensation makes him grit his teeth. What are you doing here?

“I know that you’re probably looking back at… us and what I did to you and obsessing over everything you think you did wrong. Just know you did everything out of love and empathy. That’s who you are.”

It’s Minho now who can’t keep his eyes on you now. He balls his fist, huffing out of frustration. “You can’t fix this.” He warns.

“I-I know. I know we’ll never get back together and I know you’ll probably always hate me. In fact, I hope you hate me. Because you should.” Your voice creaks, your brows furrowing as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I used to look down on you for drinking yourself to sleep on the couch when you could’ve done much worse. You could’ve given me a taste of my own medicine, stooped down to my level. But you never did. And you hung on for so long.” Your voice gives way for the tears and the mucus that coats your throat. 

“None of that makes you weak or stupid.” You take a tissue out of your pocket, drying your face and clearing your throat. “I know how it must’ve felt when you picked me up that night, after the news.”

“Stop.” He warns lowly. The ache deepens and threatens to make him cry himself. He tries not to think about that night. The way you looked after being utterly crushed and considering giving up on the world.

“I had no one left and you were there for me. But that was never your responsibility. I’m my own responsibility.”

Minho’s jaw quivers from clenching it so tight. Your eyes are steadfast, he can see that you mean it. That you’re not just saying this for sympathy or to pull him back in. His head droops over, unable to look anymore.

“If hating me helps you feel less responsible for me, please, replay every shitty action I’ve done until you think of me as the dirt beneath your shoes. But please never beat yourself up. You should’ve never had to deal with that.”

The silence seems to throw you off, judging by the way your eyes falter. You look down before standing from the chair.

“Wait.” Minho says just before you take the phone away from your ear. The way you look at him suggests you think he’ll take your advice and tell you how much he hates you. 

“Thank you. Good luck with everything… I hope you find support.” He looks up at you, the both of you share an assured but hopeful look before you hang up the phone.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Unforecast rain spooked Jiwoo earlier according to one of her younger brothers.

“Don’t tell her I told you this, but when Chuu gets all anxious it’s hilarious.” He elbows Jisung, his laughter faltering once he realizes Jisung is staring into space. “Are you nervous too?”

“Huh? No. Tell Jiwoo it only sprinkled for a little while. And we’ll be in the garden conservatory for the ceremony.” Jisung says in the robotic manner that has gotten him this far into this day.

Her brother rolls his eyes. “Okay, but I’m not going to be you guys’ messenger because of a stupid superstition. I’ll literally tell you what her dress looks like right now.”

Once he leaves, Jisung’s ears begin ringing again. People think he’s getting ready, when he really just holed himself up in building's office for some peace and quiet. Would he be able to slip out without anyone knowing? Should he leave after the vows? Or just before they sign the marriage license?

The sigh he lets out does nothing to ease him. He hasn’t had enough time to think on what Minho said. Should he have broken up with her? Or should he disappear quietly? Leave a note?

Jiwoo has been a wreck for the past few days leading up to the wedding. It’s been mostly happy tears, being so wracked with excitement to marry Han Jisung. To have Han Jisung’s children. To be with Han Jisung forever, happily ever after. Will they have kids before or after they stop speaking to each other around the house because she’s so hurt by what Jisung has done, but loves him too much to leave him?

It can’t get to that point. It can’t get to the point that Jisung is visiting her in jail after she murders you in a fit of rage. That she looks gaunt behind the glass with no light in her eyes anymore or no cheerful smile. Her family will hate him, his kids will hate him, he’ll hate himself.

“I’ve gotta get the fuck out of here.” He says shakily. He bursts out the door staggering to exit the building when her other brother stops him. He pats him firmly on the back.

“It’s that time, big man!”

He feels like throwing up again. There is no concussion this time to maybe break him out. Make him actually sick so he can trick someone into taking him to hospital. The color leaves his face as he’s guided to his spot at the end of the aisle. He can hear people whispering about him in their seats. 

“How cute! Look how nervous he is!”

“Watch how his face changes once he sees his wife.”

“I’ll get a picture!”

He stands there, jittery and struggling to breathe as he debates if it’s too late. If he should just give in. Be complicit in her downfall.

The crowd stands and cheers as the doors open at the other end of the building. She pulls her veil out of her face, looking at him with tears welling in her eyes. Cameras flash as she slowly makes her way to him. All at once, Jiwoo’s expression flickers from pure joy to hurt confusion and everyone in the crowd looks at him. The music continues as people begin whispering again. This time there is no aura of excitement.

“Why does he look like that?”

“That’s no way to look at the love of your life.”

“What is wrong with him?”

Jiwoo cautiously walks forward, standing in front of her ghostly white soon-to-be husband. She looks into his blank stare begging silently for an explanation as to why he doesn’t seem happy in the slightest to be seeing her for the first time in her wedding dress. Why he’s continuing to just stare at her when he should obviously sense the atmosphere. 

“Please be seated.” The officiant speaks. Whispers continue and Jisung’s eyes feel dry. “Thank you. Friends, family, and loved ones, we come together today, in the sight of you as witnesses to join Han Jisung and Kim Jiwoo in marriage. We gather around them now in this wonderful place, and we look on with love and hope as these two begin their new life together as one.”

As he stares into her face of horror, he imagines that this will be common in their lives. He feels disgust upon hearing the officiant describe their future. As one he says. His mind forces the image of Jiwoo being meshed into a grotesque amalgam with him to begin the rest of her miserable life.

“Jisung?” Jiwoo’s voice is frail as she jolts him back to the present. 

“Huh?”

The murmurs get louder and unabashed in their condemnation of Jisung’s behavior. 

“Ahem, I said. Han Jisung, do you take Kim Jiwoo to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you honor and cherish her? Love, trust, and commit to her, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever life may throw at you both, until death do you part?”

Jiwoo looks miserable and sickly on her deathbed, contradicting the stereotype of women always outliving their husbands. No, Jiwoo drank her days away, smoking two packs of cigarettes everyday. She withered her soul away in tandem with her physical self by entertaining her husband’s cruelty with her own. Dedicating more time to that than her kids. She wastes away in front of him, dying in the home she shared with the man who ruined her life. 

As if to make a point, his mind shifts to Minho’s face. He’s looking at him as if to asks:

“Is this what you want?”

“No!”

The gasps that come from the crowd and Jiwoo herself jolt Jisung like a bolt of electricity. 

“What the fuck?” Her brother grabs his shoulder and yanks Jisung from behind. He ignores his mother scolding him for his behavior and language. “What the fuck did you just say?” He shouts, this time shoving him.

“I-I…” Jisung stutters.

“Please! He was just recovering from a head injury. Jisung, tell them!” His own mother stands from her seat, her eyes pleading with him to get it together. His mother and father told him time and time again that Jiwoo was someone he should hold onto. That she’s a great girl who would make a great mother. They’re right. But there’s a reason he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since he last saw you. 

It starts with one step backward, the crowd silent as they wait for his response. He takes another step. And another. Then one forward. Then he’s running.

He hears Jiwoo scream after him in anguish, the crowd erupting in protest. He keeps running and running. He turns to see her brothers and her father tailing behind. His heart pumps with fear. The look on their faces is something he’s familiar with. It’s better this way, better than finding out he’s been in love with someone else the whole time. He tails a taxi, slapping the door for it to stop. It screeches to a halt and he nearly trips getting in. He falls over onto the seats, fearfully reaching for the door to slam it shut.

“Lock the doors!”

The driver looks startled, even more so when three men come banging on the window. He hears them calling him a coward, threatening to give him another concussion. He catches his breath, entering a coughing fit as he tries to calm down. 

“Where are you going?” The driver asks incredulously. Jisung says the first thing that comes to his overwhelmed mind. He clears his throat, feeling hoarse after exerting himself. His head pounds as he leans back on the seat.

By the time the driver gets there, the Eve is open. Jisung fishes his wallet out of his pocket, his only belonging now. He pays the driver and stands in front of the building. He slowly walks in, drenched in sweat in an outfit way too formal for a place like this. He sits in the same spot he did when he first came here. 

He remembers how he felt, and then thinks about what Minho told him. He wonders if he ever actually cared about Jiwoo or if he felt like she’d be good for him. If he was the same guy he was when he first sat here, he’d probably go camp outside of the house and wait for her to come home. Try to explain everything and hope selfishly that she’d forgive him. She’s better off never seeing him again.

Now what, he thinks as he orders a drink. He pats his pockets for his phone, wanting to look up nearby hotels. Or maybe he should look for ones far away. Maybe in Jeju-si…

Where’s his phone?

His heart drops, remembering that he set it on the desk in the office of the venue. How stupid of him to just run out like that. 

“Can I use your phone?”

The bartender laughs at him, jokingly asking if he’s lamenting his lost freedom as a man. 

“Tch,” Jisung smirks, accepting the phone with a shake of his head. He’s not the one who should be lamenting right now. Even if he did go through with it.

Instead of looking up hotels, he finds himself looking up a certain jail.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“I guess I didn’t knock sense into you after all.” Minho’s voice crackles through the speaker of the phone.

They could go back and forth all day about how Jisung acted too late and in the most destructive way. Jisung already spent all of last night doing that. He chews on his lip, looking down, trying to quickly find a way to bring this up. You’re the only thing that makes sense right now.

“Have you uh… spoken to her about any of this?” Jisung silently prays, peeking at Minho to try and guess his answer before he says it. He doesn’t expect to see Minho smiling to himself. He feels a distant ache in his chest.

”You didn’t see her on your way out from seeing me?”

Watching Jisung’s expression wither into dismay, Minho decides that he is truly fine. The possibility of you running to Jisung stings a little less knowing you weren’t lying about not visiting with him.

You were in Incheon? You… didn’t reach out to him. Maybe you forgot his number.

Jisung tries to find peace with that answer but anger bubbles up in his abdomen. He hangs up the phone, running out of yet another building. Are you even in Jeju? He laughs bitterly. He thought you said it as a way of putting your walls up, but maybe you did mean it when you said you didn’t care if he died.

After everything? After all of that?

Jisung has to find out for himself.

-> end of act ii

skz masterlist

milestone celebration masterlist

[crazyk-imagine]

Blast to the Past

Pairing: Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe x Wife!reader

Characters: Wife!reader. Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Nick “Goose” Bradshaw, Robert "Bob" Floyd

Briefly mentioned: Carol Bradshaw, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, Ron “Slider” Kerner, Rick “Hollywood” Neven, Marcus “Sundown” Williams, Sam “Merlin” Wells, Charles “Chipper” Piper

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of the 86' squad, reader is still involved with Top Gun, mav and reader are besties, everyone still talks to one another, wolfman is a simp for his wife, wolfman and reader are lowkey hella cute, bradley remembering reader hanging out when he was a kid, reader teasing mav, reader thinking of hangman as mini mav, Bob being the reader's fav, Wolfman loves gossiping with his wife, this is lowkey gives off kicking your feet vibes

Word Count: 1,070

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The text from Beau was not the one you were expecting.

Admiral Jackass

"You've been called back." Sent Read 1:02pm

Admiral Jackass typing…

-

You're one stop away from making dreams happen again, you shiver with anticipation and take a deep breath, thinking back to your favorite group of students when they were younger.

At that point, it was within the early years of your teaching career.

After the class of 86' you didn't teach as often but when there was an important mission or the admiral's needed someone they knew could get the lieutenants properly trained, they called you.

You take a deep breath, walking down the hallway, realizing you've missed the feeling you (still) get walking down the halls towards your next group of lieutenants.

-

You walk down the pathway in between the desks much like you did when you taught his class.

Another reason for the text, he's late and Beau wants them to learn now.

You turn and eye each of the lieutenants, seeing who's confident and who's not. Something else you were known for, identifying the weak and making them stronger if they're up for it.

It was how you got him back when he lost his family.

They don't call you "Sly Fox" the Modifier for nothing (you wish your husband didn't get that started, it's stuck and you can't get rid of it).

The corner of your lips twitch, remembering more of your infamous class of 86' only because of the overly confident blond sitting in one of the first few seats.

You lean against the podium, clasping your hands together. "Who thinks they have what it takes for this mission?"

They start turning, glancing at one another.

"Do you?" You turn your attention onto the infamous Hangman.

He smirks, messing with his toothpick. "I don't think, I know I do."

"Cockiness gets you and your crew into some seedy situations."

"It get me out of them."

The door opens and your favorite captain enters.

You straighten your posture and turn back to him. "These people are you crew, you need to have their backs, or no one will have yours and you'll be alone."

He walks down the path you and uses the confidence you told him to.

The one you've claimed as "Mini Mav" turns, flipping his toothpick before sinking into his seat, followed by two others.

"It seems it's my time to leave." You throw a wink in Pete's direction before walking towards the opening.

You didn't see the way Bradley's eyes widened at the way you interact with him.

He has a vague memory of you hanging out with his family once or twice and calling his mom after losing his dad.

"Don't have too much fun, Mav." You pat his shoulder, "you've got a live one."

He furrows his brows.

You glance back at the class once more before deciding to take your leave. "Good to see you again, Bob."

He smiles and waves back at you.

-

Natasha turns to him with furrowed brows. "How do you know her?"

He shrugs, "she taught my first class a while back."

"She remembers your name?"

"And," he shrugs.

"You were so her favorite."

-

You make your way to the opening of the hanger and sigh, "I told you guys to- no, no."

You pinch the bridge of your nose and groan.

One of the technicians runs back into the hanger tripping over his feet.

-

You pull up beside him on one of the carts. "I told you not to run. I wasn't upset."

"I beg to differ ma'am."

You grab them by their collar. "I'm going to show you a thing or two. I was trying to help you."

You drive back out without looking back, already knowing that Beau is shaking his head while Pete and the class are trying not to laugh.

-

"Do you get it now?"

He nods. "That wasn't as complicated as I thought."

"Good, now do it again to this row." You can see the excitement fall from his face and can't help but chuckle.

"No, kid. She's just messing with you." You husband wraps an arm around your waist, pecking your cheek as he places his hat on your head. "Hey, sweetheart."

You smile and lean in for a kiss, having missed him with the grandkids out at school and spending more time with their friends since they're starting to get more freedom from their parents now that they've proven themselves responsible.

"Feels like I haven't seen you in forever."

He smiles, "feels like it's been forever."

"It has. What brought you out here?"

"A little birdie told me you might be maiming one of the techs."

You scoff, "as if."

You both turn to the technician and finding him staring at the two of you in awe. "Holy- Wolfman and Sly Fox are married?"

"Where have you been?" Leonard asks.

"Under a rock apparently."

You snort, covering your mouth. "Alright, we'll talk more later. Get to work before Cyclone comes for you."

"Yes, ma'am."

You two start walking away and head towards the hanger.

-

You glance at him through your lashes, grateful he put his hat on your head. "You're not gonna believe who's teaching and in his class."

He groans. "Don't tell me, Mav's here."

You nod. "Along with baby Goose."

"Nick's kid is here?"

You nod, pulling him behind you.

-

You both turn the corner, searching over the hanger for the one person you want him to see.

Pete turns to you and pauses, raising a brow.

You sheepishly smile and pull your husband away from the hanger.

-

"He looks just like him, don't you think?"

"Mustache and all. Damn."

"What?" You stare at him, watching him get dressed.

"Goose would have loved this."

The corner of your lips tugs upwards. "I know." A wishful sigh slips past your lips. "You'll never guess what I discovered in their class."

"What?" He asks with amusement.

"Don't be a smartass."

"Hey, you married me in spite of it."

"Yes, yes. Whatever. Mav has a mini Maverick."

"Mav produced?"

You scoff, "no but there's a kid just like him."

"That's less fun than him teaching his own kid."

"He's got baby Goose for that."

"True." He closes the locker, "you ready?"

You all but run into his arms, letting his arm rest over your shoulders. "Take me home, honey."

"As long as you'll have me."

-

Tag list:

@kmc1989 @callmemana @blueoorchid

[noforkingclue]

So, if you fine with yandere and "The Boys", then what about the obsessed father and son, who really want Y/n to become part of "their family"? Homelander and Ryan saw you as their ideal wife and mom, and now, they are literally everywhere. They have completely filled your whole life. These two are not taking their eyes off you, they want you completely for themselves. Ryan wants you to be his mom, John wants you to be his. They both want you to adore them.

Note: requests are currently closed

Yep, I'm fine with writing dark fics! My very first full length fic was a dark one so I have no issue writing for it.

Hope you like the fic!

Title: Happy Family

Warnings: dark fic, implied future forced pregnancy, Homelander

The Boys tag list: @captainofmybigwetdream, @scraftsku35, @zannemes, @holy-minseok

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“Mum!”

Ryan ran towards you and wrapped his arms tightly around you. It was like being squeezed by a vice and when you tried to pry him off all you did was cause him to tighten his grip. Ryan looked up at you with sad eyes and you quickly looked away. He used to be such a sweet child and then Homelander got his hands on him. A strong hand gripped your shoulder and you swore you felt your bone creek under its grip.

“That’s right Mum,” Homelander’s voice was like honey, “Run along now champ. Mum and I need to have a little chat.”

“Ok!”

Ryan gave you one last squeeze before running off into the garden. You rubbed your side but Homelander quickly ushered you back into the house. Well, more like practically dragged you. He let you go and you stumbled forward, grabbing hold of the kitchen counter to prevent you from falling to the floor. You would not allow yourself to cower at his feet.

“So,” Homelander said, eventually shattering the silence, “I thought this was settled.”

“What do you mean?”

Homelander waved his hand at the surroundings. Admittedly, they were very luxurious. There would be no way in hell that you’d ever be able to afford all of this. Unfortunately, the price that came with it was not one you wanted to pay. However, Vought seemed willing enough to pay that price for you whether you wanted them to or not.

“Don’t lie to me, dear.”

“I never would. Not to you.”

In a flash Homelander has his hand curled around your neck. He slammed you against the wall and pushed his fingers against your neck. You grasped his hand, desperate for him to let go. All you managed to do was to cause Homelander to grin and press his forehead against yours.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispered, “You’re lying to me. I told you not to lie to me.”

“Let her go!”

Suddenly Homelander was pushed away from you. Ryan was glaring at him and had his arms tightly wrapped around you again.

“You promised,” he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt Mum again.”

You put your on to of Ryan’s head and gently patted it. Ryan pressed his face against your stomach and you couldn’t help but feel vaguely relieved that he was there. Who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t saved you. Homelander’s expression faltered for a second before his smile returned.

“It’s ok,” he said, ruffling Ryan’s hair, “Mum and I were just having a little… chat that’s all.”

“You were?”

“Home-“

Homelander gave you a steely look and you said,

“John, listen. We need to talk about this. I’m not Ryan’s mother.”

Deadly silence followed. Homelander’s smile becoming stiff and didn’t quite reach his eyes and you heard Ryan sniff.

“Dad said-“

“It’s ok Ryan,” Homelander pulled Ryan towards him and put his hands on his shoulders, “It’s unfortunate but some people hold these views.”

“What views?” you asked desperately

Homelander pouted mockingly and said,

“That to be your mother you have to have given birth.”

“What? I don’t believe that!”

“Then why do you keep saying that you’re not my mum?” asked Ryan

“Because…. It’s just… you see…”

“I think what Mum means is that she needs time,” Homelander’s manic grin returned, “But it’s ok. Once you have a sibling this will be easily mended.”

[simslegacy5083]

Not So Berry (Straud Descendants) Gen 9

Today's (9/18/2024) Episode: Back to Reality

Noemi and Luigi popped home just long enough to drop off their Batuu souvenirs and bags , then headed right back out to pick up Skye and Blossom.

“It was great to have some time just for us” Noemi said as they climbed the steps to Isra and Rhy’s place “but I’m ready to see my baby!” Luigi just smiled and nodded. He didn’t feel nearly as ready to dive back into “that parenthood life”, but he wasn’t about to disappoint her by saying so.

They waved at Isra and the kids through the door, but as soon as little Skye spotted his mom he took off like a tiny parent-seeking rocket.

Isra wasn’t able to catch him in time and the toddler smacked face first into the nearly invisible glass. Fortunately, maternal comfort was close at hand. “Shhh, you’re OK, mommy and daddy are here now, we missed you so much.” Noemi whispered as she wrapped him in a hug.

“momma back now” Skye echoed, his tears subsiding quickly under her loving ministrations as his little friend played happily beside him, quite used to his drama by now. Luigi was hanging back to let Noemi handle it when Isra stepped up next to him to have a quiet private word.

“Luigi” she began “I have to tell you; Skye was a little… aggressive while he was here. He was fine with the older kids, but we had some issues with the infants. First, he bit Orson when he tried to take a toy Skye was playing with. Then yesterday, during a playdate with Beau and Breanne on the beach, he hit Betty after she accidently messed up his sandcastle. We convinced Beau not to bother you, but he’s pretty mad. You should talk to him.”

Luigi didn’t know what to say, finally landing on “I’m sorry about that. I know Skye likes things just so and he’s not used to sharing.”

Gesturing towards the back patio where Noemi had settled with the tiny terror in question for a game of peek-a-boo he continued “He was obviously missing us too. I’m sure now that we’re back, he’ll calm down. Also, thanks for the heads up about Beau, I’ll call him soon.”

Isra followed Luigi outside to join the others. Wanting to make sure she knew he was taking the information she’d provided seriously Luigi wasted no time filling Noemi in: “Honey, Isra was telling me that Skye here wasn’t very nice to the little ones while we were gone.”

Noemi was appalled when she heard what had happened, immediately telling Skye: “We don’t treat other sims that way! We have to be nice to our friends or they won’t want to play with us. Now you say sorry to Ms. Isra, and then we’re going to go find Orson and say sorry to him too.”

“Sorry” Skye parroted, looking vaguely in Isra’s direction “Thank you” she replied “Everybody makes mistakes. I’m sure Orson will forgive you too.”

As Noemi led Skye inside to the nursery, where Isra indicated the twins had just woken up from a nap, Rhys appeared. “Welcome back man!” he greeted Luigi “Can you believe the hype around the video you posted of your wedding dance!?”

“What hype?” Luigi said, all ears. “Part of the Batuu experience is avoiding interaction with the outside world as much as possible.”

Rhys shook his head in disbelief “Oh wow, they really keep you isolated at that theme park. Well, come on upstairs – you’ve got to see this.”

Luigi could hardly believe the millions of views listed under his SimTube video. “People are talking about it, and you, everywhere” Rhys told him “I know the PR department at work is going to want to capitalize on this while it’s still viral. I’d say you’re a proper celebrity now – congratulations!”

Thanking Rhys for the good news Luigi hurried downstairs to find Blossom and leave. He was eager get home and take a serious look at his SimTube analytics dashboard. His older videos were sure to be seeing an uptick in viewership thanks to this, and he was dying to review everything.

Noemi wasn’t thrilled to be the other half of the dance video that was apparently sweeping the nation, but she tried her best to take it in stride. She knew Luigi loved the fans and the fame, and she loved him. It was why she’d agreed to let him film them after all.

Collecting Blossom from under their friend’s couch, they agreed to catch up again soon before heading down the beach towards home.

In game I actually moved Skye into Isra’s household to live “that NPC life” for a couple days while I took his parents on their honeymoon, and this is what I came back to 🤪🤭!

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey Raven, are you going to watch the upcoming new Disney movie "Wish"?

I've seen mixed reviews, but i'm lowkey excited since we get to see a new Disney villain, especially since Disney got really lame villains after all the old classic movies!

Have you seen the trailer for the movie? What are your thoughts so far?

I saw Wish with a friend recently! I'll give my thoughts on the trailers here (in case you don't want spoilers for the film itself) and put my full thoughts beneath the cut (if you're okay with spoilers).

Looks-wise, I think Disney was definitely trying to go for something more stylistic and painting-esque for this?? And while I commend the effort, it definitely doesn't look as interesting as Puss in Boots 2: The Last Wish. The humor also definitely isn't for me, it feels very "quirky" and "so relatable" (Asha reminds me of Mirabel in that sense), and other times too juvenile (like the goat butt joke). I do like the idea of the villain passing as a good guy in-universe and actually being vain and selfish, especially since the marketing is making it clear who the bad guy is rather than making it a "twist" villain scenario. Not sure if I like Magnifico himself though??? All the ads with him in it feel like Disney is trying too hard to make people thirst for him. From just the trailers, Magnifico does seem interesting and like more of a return to the traditional "villain" rather than the protagonist having to deal with an existential dread or concept.

***Spoilers for Wish beneath the cut!***

Right off the bat, my first impression is the narrative is SO ham-fisted. Within the first 5 minutes alone we're establishing so much information and in such a clunky, unnatural way. Like... Asha says hi to her friends but then they robotically have a dialogue where they overtly call each other "friends" just so it's clear to the audience (when in reality no one talks like that). It's telling instead of showing, and this happens sooo many times early in the film.

Could not for the life of me remember the friends or their names. There were just too many of them when 1 or 2 would have been just fine to move the plot along and to help Asha. (Yes, I know they're a reference to the 7 Dwarves but it's STILL not necessary to have so many just for a reference.)

Bruh, the makeup in this movie is on point. Every time there was a close up of a character, I was staring at their eye makeup (especially Asha and the queen's).

Asha as a protagonist was... fine? She feels very close to Mirabel and at times Rapunzel in her character. I didn't dislike her by any means, but she didn't reinvent what it means to be a Disney protag. Her motivations also come off as… really “out of nowhere”. We’re told she “cares too much”, but she initially only wants to save the wishes of her mom and grandpa; she randomly decides she has to free ALL wishes midmovie and that was jarring. There could have been a smoother transition. Instead, it was abrupt and Asha didn’t change in any meaningful way. Even her “I want” song was vague (what exactly is “to have something more for us than this”?) and didn’t connect well with her character.

I do really like her design though! Her freckles, earrings, and how her hair moves are my favorite details.

Valentino was not as annoying as I thought he would be. Still didn't care for his sass and brand of humor, but at least he helped out a few times.

I called it, the film is trying so hard to make Magnifico "hot" 🤡 I don't get it but okay, Mouse. I see your effort.

Loved his fit!! Very cool cloak and diamond/star motifs everywhere! His lab and study was also fun to look at.

I quite liked the moments when the queen talked to her husband and tried to smooth things over with him. “I can fix him energy”— Their relationship seemed very genuine at the start of the movie.

NOT THE WISH NEPOTISM...

If they were going for “sympathetic” with Magnifico, it didn’t work. He gave this backstory about how he was traumatized before + left as the only survivor of a great tragedy and so now he wants to use his magic to prevent that from happening to anyone else. Thing is, we only ever know about this via his word and staring at a half-burnt tapestry. We never see the event on screen, nor what was left of the tapestry. I was expecting a twist where it’s revealed that he lied all this time about his backstory and rewrote history so he could more easily manipulate the people of the kingdom he founded and live out the fantasy of being worshipped as a “good guy”. That was such a missed opportunity!!

Something else I was thinking of (this was during “This is the Thanks I get” was??? Maybe Magnifico started off genuinely good but became worn down over time as people’s wishes grew more selfish and they became ungrateful for what they had?? Then he could have become bitter and disillusioned by the behavior of his people.

Another idea is maybe Magnifico was “villainous” only in Asha’s eyes, since they don’t agree on how to best handle granting wishes. This would be more of a clash of ideologies rather than the traditional Obvious Evil vs Obvious Good that Disney is so known for, but hey, it could be a neat evolution of their storytelling from classic fairy tale roots.

This is to say that there were so many more interesting directions they could have gone with Magnifico’s motives, character, and portrayal 😭 but the second half of the movie never commits to any of these, they just blame his complete insanity and turn to the dark side on Forbidden Magic which is such a cop-out.

The trailers gave away the twist that Magnifico was the villain. It wasn’t revealed until like the second song into the movie. Would’ve worked better as an on-the-spot reveal rather than part of the marketing, in my opinion.

When they showed the wishes, the TWST fan in my was shouting, "OMG IT'S WISH UPON A STAR, THE LIMITED TIME STORY EVENT FROM THE HIT DISNEY MOBILE GACHA GAME TWISTED WONDERLAND!!!"

As Wish is Disney's anniversary film for 100 years, there were tooons of easter eggs scattered throughout. (I had fun looking for them!) Some were visual (I saw Aurora's dress, Snow White’s well, Peter's Pan's costume, Ursula's green smokey hands, Asha's robes resembling those of the Fairy Godmother, etc.) or extended imagery/scenes (Asha recreates Mulan's dinner and “Reflection" scenes), others were more overt lines of dialogue (Magnifico says the "Mirror, Mirror" lines along with others, a deer named “Bambi”, Valentino mentions an animal metropolis in reference to Zootopia, etc.).

In theory, the wish magic sounds cool but has so much that isn't explained??? And yeah, it's magic so it technically doesn't have to be. However, there are things not explained even when it is important to the plot. For example, Magnifico crushes some wishes and seems to absorb their power for himself (including the wish of Asha's MOM, so you'd think this would be important)? The consequence of this is that the wish's owners... become sad??? Okay, what are the long-term effects??? Why isn’t this fully explored?? But then later in the film we see the same people whose wishes were crushed... regenerate their wish??? So what, he has to keep reaping them??? And why are the wishes only taken at 18 years old? What if a wish changes? Ironically, the townspeople of Rosas have a scene where they question the technicalities of this wish magic. Magnifico essentially tells them to shut up, and it kinda felt like Disney was telling us to not question their lore www

It was weird that they never fully explored the ramifications of going without your wish. You’d think they’d show us people without ambition or hope (which would incentivize Asha to return their wishes), but everyone seems blissfully happy without their wishes?? The only exception is Asha’s friend that betrays her (cannot for the life of me remember his name), and that’s namely because his asshole friends keep ragging on him for it.

I thought the movie was going to go in a “you can make your own wish come true!!” direction but NOPE, turns out it’s just magic. Felt like Disney unintentionally wrote a whole movie about "wishes not coming true unless some big powerful entity allows it to come true” (Asha literally becomes the fairy godmother of Rosas at the end, making her ultimately no different than Magnifico)… ie a metaphor for how Disney owns so many properties it practically owns our childhoods www

"The power of friendship saves the day" ending 🤣 It was very Paper Mario ending-esque...

A song saving the day though?? It’s giving the Illumination Lorax film…

I was right about the humor. Too "quirky" and/or juvenile for me.

Animation was alright? Nothing awful about it, it just didn't feel as detailed or as experimental as other films with a similar style.

Songs were mid, which checks out with the recent Disney music excluding We Don't Talk About Bruno--

Some of the lyrics however were awful. “I let you live here for free and I don’t even charge you rent” is redundant. “So I throw caution to every warning sign” means you’ll show more caution than usual, not that you’ll forego caution. The correct expression is “throw caution to the wind”. Etc, etc, etc.

There was a cute after credits scene where they reveal that Asha's 100 year old grandpa (same age as Disney omg) wrote the "When You Wish Upon a Star" theme, which was sweet since his wish was "wanting to make a mark".

THE BEST PART OF THE MOVIE WAS STAR!! It was very cute (partly because it couldn't talk and just jingled and giggled, I was dreading another annoying mascot animal voice) and reminds me of my own pet… The way Star infused everything with glitter and formed unique shapes with the red twine was so fun 😭 I'M A STAR STAN, IT WAS ADORABLE AND KINDA BRATTY AND I'M LIVING FOR IT

Decent ideas, "meh" execution. Enchanted and Shrek did it better in terms of self-aware, fairy tale defying stories. It felt as though the movie was trying to deliver a profound message but got lost in the sauce of making as making Disney references possible and didn't fully commit to actually saying something meaningful. As a result, the film feels somewhat… hollow.

That one friend betraying Asha was the biggest surprise in the film but I still saw it coming 😂 I do get where he’s coming from though (being worried that his wish won’t ever come true) but it also felt like his conflict wasn’t resolved??? It might have gone better if the movie actually fully tried to push the “you can make your own wish come true” message (to reinvigorate the traitor to make his dreams a reality on his own) but they don’t 💦

Wish didn’t end up being “the wishing star’s origin story” because not once did anyone question where Star came from or why it was different from other stars (or what the significance of Magnifico blotting out the other stars was).

I think the people that would enjoy this movie are the people that are already highly invested in Disney and the nostalgia of it.

... Anyway, stan Star 🤩 (and the talking mushrooms 🍄)

[princess-of-the-corner]

CC!NextGen

So, in general, Naomi’s adoption, as follows -

Naomi: “Excuse me? Miss Bat?”

Himiko: *takes one look and tries to ignore her instinctive reaction of ‘something is wrong/pinging of my Trauma™’* “Hey kiddo! What’s up?”

Naomi: “Do you think I could be a Hero? Even if I have a villain’s Quirk?”

Himiko: *concerned, but still ignoring the more insistent voice saying 'this is familiar’* “Well, anyone can be a Hero, and there’s no such thing as a villain’s Quirk! Quirks aren’t Heroic or Villainous, they’re just Quirks! All that matters is how we use them. Who told you yours was a 'Villain’s’?”

Naomi: “My parents.”

Himiko, internal: *mini-Himiko slams her fist onto a big red button labelled TRAUMA. Def-Con alarms start blaring, red lights flash, “-all personal, please move to your emergency stations-”*

Himiko: *deep breath, bright smile* “What’s your name, kiddo?”

*a walk 'home’*

“WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF HARRY POTTER BULLSHIT IS THIS!?”

*a few hours later*

Kimiko: “Dad’s back!”

Sato: “Hey munchkins! Himi, I picked up the extr- who’s this?”

Himiko: “That’s Naomi-”

Naomi: “Hi!”

Himiko: “-She lives here now.”

Sato: “O … K, and her parents are-?”

Himiko: “Us.”

Sato: “… since-?”

Himiko: “Three hours ago.”

Naomi, excited: “Bat-Mom said I don’t have to sleep in the closet anymore!”

Sato: “… ah.”

Tooru: “Ok, so does anyone know why Eri just gave me a bunch of her old clothes? Cause Kenichi doesn’t like cats that much, and Kimiko’s too tal- who’s this?”

Sato: “Naomi. She lives here now.”

Naomi, spontaneously growing a cat’s tail and ears: “KITTY-SHIRT!!”

to expand, Naomi tracks down Himiko after a villain fight to ask if she can be a hero with a “villain’s Quirk”, because Himiko technically has a “villain’s Quirk” too, so she’d know, right? Himiko gets a vaguely uncomfortable feeling on meeting Naomi, but tries to ignore it. She occasionally gets similar feelings when meeting certain people, mostly kids, who ping something that reminds her of her childhood. And nine times out of ten, the feeling leads to nothing, or nothing that requires Hero intervention, so she does her best to ignore it, or at least manage it. Then Naomi drops “My parents said I have a villain’s Quirk” and Himiko’s Trauma™ button gets slammed HARD. She needs to do something. Because the fight is all wrapped up, and Himiko’s patrol is done for the day, she offers to walk Naomi home. Naomi, of course, is thrilled with this, and accepts.

So, Himiko is trying to rationalize to herself. Naomi is setting off more warnings the longer they talk, but Himiko doesn’t actually KNOW anything for certain. She’s also aware that her experience wasn’t exactly normal, and also leads her to jump to conclusions on occasion. She’s planning on having a talk with Naomi’s parents, see if she can suss things out, maybe get them access to certain resources. Maybe call in another Pro, just so she has an objective party.

The 'talk’ lasts about ten minutes, during which time the parents are insulting, cruel, shout at Naomi for bringing an “Evil Hero” home, and try to lock Naomi in a hallway closet, which is apparently what happens when Naomi does something her parents don’t like. She only gets to sleep in her room when she’s been “good”.

Given they do all of this IN FRONT of Himiko, it takes very little time to have the pair arrested. Himiko then proceeds to call Saito - I Headcannon her old crush grew up to be a social worker, who somehow ended up specializing in helping Heroes who find kids, he and Himiko are friends now - and tells him what happened, and that she’s adopting Naomi, can he get the paperwork for that started, please? Shinso was at the agency when Himiko calls back to tell them what happened, he says he’ll send Eri over with some of her old clothes. Himiko then goes to pick up Kenichi from daycare, Kimiko from school, and informs them they have another sibling now.

She doesn’t realize until Sato comes back from the store, Tooru from the agency, that she didn’t tell Tooru or Sato what happened, or that she’d started the process to adopt Naomi. Given the givens, neither are mad, mostly just concerned (for Naomi AND Himiko. After the kids are asleep, Tooru has to cuddle Himiko through a panic attack, while Sato deals with some phone calls and detail stuff Himiko kind of … “forgot”? She spent most of the day in a bit of a frantic haze, no one really blames her for stuff slipping. Though, she’s gonna be rolling up to her therapist appointment that week like, “Susie, you are not gonna BELIEVE this shit-!”). They are, of course, all for the adoption. Tooru is thrilled when Naomi calls her “Shine Mama”. Sato ends up as “Papa Sweets”, but given she started with calling him “Sugar Daddy”, he’ll take it.

At least one person congratulates Himiko on “pulling an Aizawa”. Someone else laments they’ve really lost money now, cause they bet Izuku or Shinso would be the first, but it was Tokoyami and Himiko instead. The amount of money they won is kind of obscene.

(It was Sero. He was NOT expecting to win those bets. Given the amount - these guys are Pro-Heroes now, the money matches - he basically just gives it over to the new parents, for anything the kids need.)

(Aizawa would be more annoyed, but he is currently in the middle of negotiating custody rights for Kuroba, so its not like they’re WRONG.)

(Also, Kuroba and Naomi are friends now. Best friends. Same age, similar backgrounds-ish. Given Naomi is usually the bright, happy-go-lucky, optimistic one, while Kuroba is the lazy cynic, people just look at Aizawa like, “are you SURE she’s not yours??”)

So, thoughts, feelings, opinions? Again, all suggestions, feel free to alter, change, or discard at leisure!

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Ahahahahahahaahaha

Yeah I do think they’d need to have a long talk but GOD the fact that these fuckers really are just the kinda. ‘ah shit child in need guess they’re mine now’.