#because I feel like this college is a dead end and nobody here will function as a mentor/write me letters of recomendation or help me networ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eyeofthedrgn · 3 years

Text

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 8

Catch up here >> AHBS Masterlist

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1739

Notes: This chapter is slightly graphic on the physical abuse. It's only like two lines, but I wanted to make it known.

Chapter 8 - Sorry for Now

After a while you may forget

But just in case the memories cross your mind

You couldn't know this when I left

Under the fire of your angry eyes

I never wanted to say goodbye

Four months, thirteen days, and ten hours, not that he was counting, since he left. Since the dark haired boy had walked away, leaving Rowan standing on the sidewalk. Since his mind spiraled out of control, and it felt like part of him died.

Rowan had been seeing a therapist for the last three months. It had helped, somewhat. At least he could function as a relatively normal human being again, when he was around people anyway. Most of the time. He almost didn't graduate. Thankfully, his mom, his friend group, and his therapist had helped him get through it.

But all in all, Rowan felt empty. Somehow his heart was broken. He hadn't realized someone could get so attached to someone so fast even though they never really talked or hung out. Maybe it was because they shared such vulnerabilities with each other that day in the park or there really was such a thing as a soulmate and his just left him. Either way, he was broken inside. Yet, he still went to parties with his friends, hung out, but he wasn't always present. Everyone noticed the vacant stares, but they usually left it alone. They all knew the general gist of what happened that day, but they could never understand the emotional gravity well that that day had caused. No one knew that Rowan had fallen for the other boy.

Except the ever observant Elide. She noticed everything. The way Rowan spoke about Lorcan, the way his eyes lit up when he saw the other boy walking down the hall, and the small looks they both shared on cast signing day.

But nobody had seen Lorcan after he had walked away. He never came back to school. No one knew what to think. Most assumed they moved again and they left it at that. Rowan assumed the worst after seeing Lorcan's bruises and him basically saying this was a usual occurrence.

Rowan was brought back to the present when a beach ball hit him in the head. He was sitting on the edge of Aelin's pool, sulking, feet dangling in the water. Aelin was throwing one of her parties, it was nearly the end of summer and soon most of them would head off to college. The noises from his friends finally filtering back into his head, it was suddenly too loud, too bright, and too hot. He ran a hand down his face.

Fenrys had been the beach ball throwing culprit, Rowan just glared at him.

"Come on, Ro. Try and have some fun?" Fen had swam over to Rowan and crossed his arms over the edge of the pool. The roguish blond just wanted him to be happy.

“I’m sorry.” He said that a lot now. Fenrys just raised an eyebrow at the boy… man.

He was eighteen now and he wasn't that scrawny, nerdy looking boy anymore. Rowan supposed that was one good thing that came out of Lorcan leaving, he got addicted to working out. There was a punching bag set up in the garage with some weights. He was fit now, muscles defined, but not bulky.

Elide walked up and mussed up his hair. "Come help me get some drinks." She didn't leave any room for argument.

In the kitchen, Elide just leaned forward on the island and looked at Rowan.

"I thought we were getting drinks."

"Yeah, we will. But-"

"But what?" He really didn't mean to say that with such an attitude, but he was hot and emotionally exhausted. Honestly, he just wanted to go home.

Elide was on her phone, waiting for him to chill. Taking a deep breath he said, "I'm sorry. What did you want to talk about?" Rowan was trying, he really was. She just slid her phone over the counter towards him. He furrowed his brows as he looked at the article on the screen.

Consultants for Erawan Enterprises arrested on counts of fraud, child abuse, human trafficking, and other illicit activities

"What's this?" He had no idea what this was about. Why would he care about Erawan Enterprises?

He picked up the phone and kept reading since Elide clearly wasn’t going to answer. It was short and there was a photo of a devastatingly beautiful woman with dark as night hair, that reminded him of Lorcan, and alabaster skin in handcuffs being pushed into a cop car and a very angry man shoved against the hood of the same car.

Maeve Valgerian and James Perrington were arrested Wednesday night. After some anonymous tips to the Morath Police.

"Who are these people?" Rowan didn't understand.

"Pretty sure she's Lorcan's aunt."

Oh.

Rowan had searched for Lorcan online after he disappeared, but there was literally nothing. Absolutely zero results. It was like he was a ghost.

They were consultants for Erawan Enterprises and moved all over the world for the very powerful man. Erawan Enterprises is under investigation for fraud, money laundering, and human trafficking.

After Valgerian and Perrington were arrested, MPD searched their residence and found incriminating evidence against them.

There was also a teenager held captive in the basement. They were taken to the nearest hospital with severely critical injuries. The name and gender of this individual will not be released for their safety.

The article was published nearly two months ago.

Human trafficking…

Held captive...

Severely critical injuries...

"Please, don't break my phone." He was squeezing the device and didn't realize it. Quickly handing it back to her, his hand went straight to his hair.

“Are you sure this is his aunt?”

“Well, not 100%, but they have physical similarities and their hair…” she trailed off. “And Lorcan had mentioned his aunt’s boyfriend living with them one day in class.”

"Fuck!" He felt like he wanted to rip his hair out.

"Ro." Elide's voice was quiet.

"FUCK!"

After a couple deep breaths, he ran his hands down his face, and then turned to face his friend. "Is he dead?" His voice cracked.

"I don't know. All of the other articles I could find are just about them and Erawan Enterprises. No mentions of Lorcan. Anywhere. It's like he doesn't exist."

Elide pulled him into a hug and he broke.

---

Lorcan had been through shit show after shit show since he left the Whitethorn house. As soon as he returned to the apartment, it was packed up into a moving van and they were gone.

They were in Fenharrow for a couple months. Maeve didn't enroll him in school. He was locked in the basement of the small house they rented, it felt like he had gone crazy. He hadn't seen the sun until they moved again. His skin turned a sickly gray. By the time they moved again, he could feel every one of his ribs, and his hips stuck out, his fingers overlapping when wrapped around his wrist.

Next move was to Morath. Lorcan didn't know if he would survive. He didn’t have a good feeling about this place. The basement became his home yet again. It was filthy. There were thick iron hooks in opposite walls and chains hanging from them. This was where he was going to die. He closed his eyes as Perrington latched the shackles around his wrists.

---

One day, Lorcan heard sirens intermittently. He kept passing out. He wasn't even sure he was hearing sirens or if it was just a ringing in his ears. They were always ringing nowadays. A punch to his face made his vision flicker. Blood and saliva leaked from his mouth as his head rolled down to his chest.

The ringing in his ears got louder. There definitely weren't sirens. No one was going to save him. He was going to die here. He knew it. It was what he deserved. The bastard born half-breed that no one cared about, left to die in his own filth in a disgusting basement. The world slowly faded to black.

---

Beep.

He was in Hel. He had to be.

Beep.

The incessant beeping was there to drive him insane. And the smell of bleach was there to make him sick.

Beep.

---

Lorcan startled awake. How could he be awake? He was supposed to be dead. Right?

The nightmare he was having felt so real. Probably because he had lived it before. He assumed that was just what Hel was supposed to be, reliving the worst parts of your life.

But instead, he was in a bed, a hospital bed. Why did they save him? Lorcan wasn't worth saving. Yet, here he was covered in wires, tubes, a needle stuck in his hand, a device on his finger. It was dark outside and the lights were dim in the room.

Deciding he wasn’t actually dead, he took stock of his body, he was certain he had some broken ribs, but nothing else seemed to be broken which was surprising. He was definitely sore and stiff. And exhausted. So exhausted.

---

After… Lorcan didn't know how long he was discharged. He had put on some weight, though not a lot. The staff made sure he ate. They were all nice and cared for him. But now, he stood outside the main entrance of the hospital in some scrubs they gave him. Now, he had nothing. Nobody. He may as well have been lost at sea.

Why had they saved him? He still couldn’t figure that out.

Somehow, he managed to find the small house that he had been stuck in for who knows how long. There was police tape over the door. The door was open.

He pushed through the tape. The house was a mess. It seemed the cops had ransacked the place. But he finally found his things, they were strewn about the floor. Thank Hellas, his journal was still there. After changing, he packed up his books and journal, some clothes, and a few other other necessities.

He needed money or something he could sell. Maeve's jewelry would help. He could pawn it.

Lorcan asked the pawnshop owner for directions to the bus station, and then he set out to see if there was still one person who cared about him. Hopefully this wasn’t a bad idea.

____

Thanks for reading. Things will get better, I promise! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Edit- oops! I forgot to actually put in tags... My bad. Sorry!

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

#rowcan #rowan x lorcan #rowan whitethorn #rowcan fanfic #lorcan salvaterre #linkin park #heavy battle symphony #crackship #throne of glass

9 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

Hi!!!!!!!!!! I just saw your playlist for the indruck rockstar au so naturally I had to go and reread the whole entire thing in one go this morning and I just wanted to say how much I Love it and the way you write that whole scenario, especially with the way you incorporated the music lyrics??? (Especially since you wrote a bunch of those????) chefs kiss. I was wondering if you had ever written or planned out any of the sternclay that happened before this story took place because the way you described what we got of how they got together sounded so amazing and I would Die to hear their point of view. Hope you have a wonderful weekend!!!!!!!!!

Thank you so much! I’m really proud of that fic, and it seems to have been one a lot of folks really enjoyed. And well, when you asked this, it got me thinking. So here’s a brief history of how Stern and Barclay got together in this universe. Heads up: it is NSFW

That didn’t go as planned.

Joseph only meant to alert The Cryptids to the fact their manager was clearly skimming off the top and downplaying offers for further connections in the business before turning every ounce of charm he could muster on Barclay. He came to fuck bigfoot, not change careers.

Now he’s packing up the second of his two suitcases, conversation with his parents still ringing in his ears. They’re not taking the fact that he’s dropping out of college to manage an up and coming, horror rock, very gay band particularly well and have tried twice to talk him out of it. Which is why he’s glad he went through all the bureaucratic steps before calling them.

He’s never been more terrified or excited in his life. He’s sure he can do this, he’s already booked them four more gigs in a logical tour path, found a better system for making their merch, and is tracking down a promising P.R lead. It’s the close quarters that scare him the most; he’s certain he could charm Barclay for an evening, could get the others to like him enough to hang around back stage once or twice. But for months on end? What if they think he’s prissy, or too perfectionistic, or too normal?

What if Barclay hates him?

------------------------------------------------------

“I must admit, I’d have thought you would have made a move on Joseph by now.” Indrid says before pulling a sweater on over his head. It gets caught on his glasses, and he flails until Barclay helps it the rest of the way down. They’re somewhere south of Madison, the van cutting a lonely path down the dark road; it’s so late, and they’re on one of those vast, distinctly midwestern stretches where there’s nothing but night sky and fields. Jake drives, tapping the wheel in time with the radio while Joseph sleeps in the passenger seat and Vincent sprawls on the far back one.

“Kinda weird to hit on your manager, right?” Barclay peers warily around the passenger seat to be double sure the manager in question isn’t listening. He isn’t, lips parted slightly and dark hair falling in his face as his sleeping body is tilted this way and that by the motion of the car.

“Not when the manager looks like that and has already broadcasted his eagerness to fuck you.”

Barclay can’t really argue that first point; Joseph walked into that sorry excuse for a dressing room looking like centerfold come to life. There’s a certain kind of fan of theirs who spends their daily life buttoned up and following the rules, and Joseph struck him as exactly that kind of self-repressing, well groomed gym bunny. They’re always the most fun fans to fuck, in his experience. Couple that with the fact Joseph was (is) hot and willing, Barclay would have happily called dibs on the van for an hour to fuck him senseless that first night. But now…

“I dunno, he hasn’t really flirted with me since we met. And even then he didn’t flirt much.”

“The lecture on Haye’s deficits did start about two seconds after he entered the room.”

“Yeah” Barclay sighs fondly at the memory, “maybe he’s just not interested now that he’s seen me offstage.”

“Or maybe you’re both acting from the same vein of professionalism. Which is not terribly punk rock.”

“I’m being myself” Barclay grumbles “that’s-”

“The most punk rock thing you can be.” Indrid finishes, nodding sagely. Then he smirks, “but that doesn’t change the fact Joseph wants to get into those leather pants of yours. Why do you think he keeps recommending the stage outfits that involve them?”

“Hey, I like that look too. It’s my idea as much as it’s his.”

“Mmmmhmm.” Indrid yawns, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder. Then he sings in his ear “Baby you got the clothes, baby he’s got the romance, you’ve got the moves so while you’ve got the chance, you wanna get in his pants, you wanna get in his pants, you wanna-”

Barclay elbows him sideways onto the seat, making them both giggle like they’re ten and wrestling on the trampoline in his backyard.

“Enough with the prophecies, Mothman.”

“That was hardly a prophecy.” Indrid sticks his legs into Barclays laugh, “but very well. I will leave you to pine for as long as you please.”

Barclay spares another glance towards the front of the car.

“I’m not pining. I just want him to like me.”

A snore in reply, Indrid out with his arms sprawled in different directions. Barclay chuckles softly, roots around for one of their two pillows, and settles his head against the window. He doesn’t shut his eyes right away; instead he watches the lights of distant houses and stars race past, melding into the reflection of Joseph’s sleeping face.

------------------------------------

“I bought us ten more minutes, I cannot believe they didn’t warn us this was a double appearance. I’ll-” Joseph finishes shutting the van door and promptly grips it so hard it leaves an indent in his palm.

The band is in various states of rapid undress, trying to get back into their first set of outfits, and smack in the center of the tableau is Barclay, naked from the waist down.

“-I’ll be more thorough going, um, going forward. See you all backstage.”

He can’t scramble out of the vehicle fast enough, finds one of the two functioning bathrooms in the place and locks himself in without a second thought. Leans against the graffiti coated door and shoves his hand down pants, a little embarrassed at how turned on he is just from one peek at Barclay’s dick. That doesn’t stop him from picturing it as he shoves two fingers into himself and jacks off like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. The smell of two kinds of smoke, the half dead bulb, the din of the crowd gathering in the building all make him harder; he’s so desperately horny for his bassist he’ll make himself cum in a shitty dive bathroom. The thought has him moaning, and he covers his mouth with his free hand as he cums.

With a much clearer head, he washes his hands and leaves to round up his band. It’s better this way, better for him to get off alone than put Barclay in a weird position by his manager coming onto him. That’d be weird for everyone; this way is much easier.

Ten minutes later, standing in the shadowy steps and watching The Cryptids perform, Barclay growling and sweat-soaked, giving Indrid a messy, open-mouthed kiss when the singer initiates it, he knows it won’t be easy at all.

---------------------------------------------------------

They’ve done it; Joseph helped the others successfully sign with Amnesty Records, securing them a re-release of their first album at higher quality and with wider distribution, a massive U.S tour, and more money up front than any of them have ever seen. Amnesty sees promise in them, and Barclay knows they can deliver. They celebrated for two nights solid, and now reality sets in; Indrid is locked in a hotel room, writing like he’s possessed by the ghost of several rockstars at once, Vincent and Jake are trying to find places to live now that they’re based in Atlanta, and Barclay…

Barclay is standing in a half-furnished apartment that doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to Joseph, currently hopping on and off the phone while Barclay waits for dinner to arrive. In a perfect world he would have just cooked, but given how Joseph’s been the last few weeks, he’s worried that gesture of intimacy might freak him out. The manager was in meetings all day and is still in his suit, a forty dollar one they bought in a strip mall at the edge of town. On him it looks like it cost a thousand dollars just for the slacks. The slacks Barclay is failing very hard at not staring at. Joseph isn’t even twenty-one, but he’s been working deals like a pro, and it is the hottest fucking thing Barclay has ever seen.

He tries distracting himself from his unhelpful gay thoughts via distressing images. All he comes up with is having to steal Indrid’s phone from him after the singer called his family for the first time in almost three years. Whether that was to deliver a final fuck you or toss a hail Mary of reconciliation their way, Barclay isn’t sure. All he knows is he watched Indrid’s face take a turn, old hurts smothering the spark in his eyes, and he took the phone away while someone yelled on the other end of it.

“How are your parents taking it?” Joseph looks up from the laptop on the kitchen table where he’s entering dates into a calendar.

Barclay smiles, “Good. Pretty sure they’ve told everyone in the family the good news. Alice can get a chain email out like nobody’s business. They say they love me and are proud of me and that I have to promise to still come home for Christmas every now and then.”

Joseph smiles back, open for a moment before a guard slips back up. Barclay tucks his hands in his pockets, psyching himself up. He has to do this. He has to know.

“Have I, like, made you angry or something? You’ve just been standoffish lately.”

“Working out everything for the contract has been so stressful I’m not sure anyone but the execs have seen much of me.” The answer is well-rehearsed.

“Oh.” Barclay nods, hands still in his pockets and shoulders slouched.

“And, um, and they haven’t gone away. My feelings for you.” This answer is far quieter, the other man looking up from the screen with fearful eyes.

“That’s a...bad thing? But I, uh, I, like you too. I like so fucking much.”

A little puff of laughter, “I can tell. Believe me, I can. It’s just that being your manager is different than being a random fan looking for a hook-up; I might want something you’re not ready to give, or vice versa, and if we rush into things it could fuck up everything you guys worked for. Everything we worked for.”

Barclay cautiously steps forward, “What if we took things slow? Like, really slow.”

Hope sneaks into the corners of Joseph’s eyes, “What would that look like?”

“Like we go step by step, with first dates and like, hand holding and shit. We can take as long as we want; I mean, unless you’re planning on ditching the next big thing in the music world, think we’re gonna have plenty of time to spend together.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Barclay circles the table as Joseph stands. He cups his cheek, running his thumb up his cheekbone.

“Hey.”

“Hi” Joseph’s eyes have taken on a distinctly Bambi-ish shape.

“You wanna go get dinner tomorrow?”

The other man loops his arms around his shoulders, “Absolutely.”

Their first kiss comes less than twenty four hours; they may be taking it slow, but there’s only so much two men who’ve been pining in the confines of a van for months can take. It’s soft and popcorn scented and Joseph holds his hand the entire time.

---------------------------------------------

Joseph waits in the dressing room, ears ringing from the sound system and the screaming crowd. It’s the first time The Cryptids have played any sort of true arena, and they sold out the show a week in advance.

Barclay clomps into the room in his combat boots, grinning as soon as he sees him. He’s dripping with sweat, his eyeliner is a little smudged, and even though he isn’t the lead vocalist, he has enough backing vocals that his voice is a touch raw when he speaks.

“Fuck that was fun.”

“You all did so well. I, this is going to sound corny, but I’m so proud of you.”

“Should be proud of yourself too, babe. Without you, we’d probably still be playing no-name bars in Des Moines or Fresno.”

“Managing is easy when the talent’s this good.” He runs his hands up Barclays’ fishnet-clad chest.

“Take the compliment, blue eyes.”

High on pride and the knowledge that at least a third of the crowd would commit a felony to take his place, Joseph pinches Barclay’s left nipple, “No.”

Barclay growls, grabbing his lapels and yanking him into a salty, toothy kiss. He moans in reply, drops his hands down to undo Barclay’s fly so he can grind against him, feel him getting hard through his dress pants.

“You really wanna do that here, babe? Don’t wanna make our first time all soft sheets and candlelight?” Barclay rubs the top button of Joseph’s shirt between his thumb and finger.

“Yes, I want you and I want you now”

Barclay lunges, shoving him back until his ass hits the dressing room table.

“Fine” he grunts, getting his cock out while Joseph kicks one leg free of his pants, “can’t take a compliment, gonna take something else.”

“OHmylord, fuck, fucking finally.” He thunks his head back against the mirror as Barclay sets a ferocious tempo.

“Shit, you feel even better than I thought you would, and I’ve been, fuck, thinking about it for a long fucking time. Ever since you walked into that shitty dressing room in those tight shorts and shirt with my name on it.”

“Nnhng” He spreads his legs wider at the memory.

“Oh you fucking like that, don’t you babe? That why you wanted to do this here? So I could treat you like the horny fucking fanboy you really are?”

“Yes, ohmylord, yes, yes.” He can’t feel anything but the points where they connect, can’t hear anything beyond Barclay’s growls in his ear and the slap of skin on skin.

“Fuck” Barclay pulls his hair with one hand, shoves his knee further up with the other, “shoulda known, even with that fancy suit all you wanna be is my fucking toy.” It’s a snarl, the hottest sound he’s ever heard and he drags Barclay into another kiss, amazed that he feels close to cumming already.

Knockknock.

Barclay turns his head towards the door, Joseph muffling his panting breath in his shoulder.

“Uh, who is it?”

“Mothman. The winners of that drawing are back here to meet us.”

“Shit” Joseph hisses, starting to sit up only for strong hands to trap him in place.

“Cool. Uh, gimme like” Barclay looks down to where his cock is buried into Joseph, “three minutes?”

The smile in Indrid’s voice is unmistakable, “Of course. I still need to find Vincent. See you soon.”

“Three minutes seems optimisticAH, ohgod” He holds on for dear life as Barclay fucks him with sharp, deep thrusts. A calloused hand finds his dick and Joseph bites down on a broad shoulder to keep from alerting everyone in the vicinity to his impending orgasm.

“That’s it babe, cum for me, cum on my cock in a backroom like the horny, needy thing you are.” Barclay stills his hips, hand working with slick, messy movements until Joseph cums. He doesn’t wait for him to finish all the way before slamming into him for ten of the best seconds of Stern’s life and cumming with a deep moan.

“Fucking-A that was good.”

“Good is an understatement.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too.”

A kiss on the head as Barclay helps him onto the ground, a flurry of putting their clothes into a rough approximation of order. Then Barclay kisses him again as Joseph strokes his hair.

“Offer of soft sheets and candlelight still stands.”

Joseph holds him tighter, smiling against his neck, “I guess we know what we’re doing tomorrow night.”

----------------------------------------------------

It’s the last day of recording the tracks for “Blood on the Mirror” and the mood is bittersweet. After this, there’s one more tour and then The Cryptids go their separate ways. It was time, everyone but Indrid and Jake ready to move on to other projects, and Joseph is already on board to manage Indrid’s solo career (“I’d trust it to no one else, Joseph. I mean it”). All the same, when the final track is deemed done, everyone applauds and embraces like they’re going off to war.

He heads down to his office to finish reading over venue contracts while the band packs up, but he only gets through one before Barclay appears.

“Hey, blue eyes.”

“Hi, Bigfoot.” Joseph stands and comes to the door to kiss him, “are you already set to go home.”

“More or less” Barclay rubs his arm, his most consistent anxiety tell, “uh, there’s just one thing I gotta ask before we leave.”

Hushed voices down the hall, but no one there when Joseph looks behind him to check. When he turns back, his hands fly up to cover his mouth. Barclay is down on one knee.

“I, uh, I know this might not be the most, uh, traditional spot to do this but it feels right. I’ve just been thinking about how a huge chapter of my life is coming to a close and there’s this whole new, exciting, terrifying blank page where I have to write the next one. And I, I realized that I want you to be in that chapter with me, and the next one, and the one after that. So, uh, what I want to know is: Joseph Stern, will you marry me?”

He nods, not trusting his voice to come out with intelligible words.

“Oh thank god.” Barclay springs up, cupping his face and spinning him in a kiss. Joseph laughs as whooping cheers echo towards them. Indrid, Jake, and Vincent, are peering around the nearest corner, beaming.

“Indrid is for sure going to say I told you so the second he gets me alone” Barclay chuckles, “I was so afraid you’d say no because things will be kind of up in the air for the next few years.”

Joseph turns his face back towards him, “You’re right, they will. But I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend them with.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #rockstar au #TAZ amnesty

20 notes · View notes

punkscowardschampions · 3 years

Text

Ronnie & Joe

Ronnie: [a phone number]

Ronnie: found you your own special plug

Joe: Can’t wait to get gang-raped by whoever this is

Joe: or maybe it’s a phishing scam, what route have you gone down 🤔

Ronnie: route of she can be your number 8 cos youre such a bike

Joe: it’s that kind of hook-up

Ronnie: pay for the gear if you cant get it up soft lad she looks fuck all like your ma

Ronnie: couldnt track down no more of her bastards for you soz

Joe: taking your role that seriously?

Joe: alright

Ronnie: getting out of it

Ronnie: she can babysit you

Joe: she probably lost custody of her own so

Joe: nice of you on all fronts

Ronnie: yeah

Joe: what, your dealer don’t like me or something

Ronnie: how the fuck would i know like

Ronnie: and how would he you legged it out of there soon as he showed

Joe: no shit I did

Ronnie: ordeals over now baby go cry to your new mammy about it

Joe: unlikely

Joe: but it ain’t my ordeal so

Ronnie: they ll swab & treat him he ll be sound

Joe: give a shit about him

Ronnie: if youve got something to say

Joe: I just said it

Joe: I don’t care about him

Ronnie: you dont care about me fuck off with your heroics

Joe: you didn’t want swooping up and saving, don’t mean I don’t give a fuck

Ronnie: your student loan aint gonna cover both our habits youd have me dopesick cause youre fucking jealous that means you dont

Joe: you’re jealous

Joe: and I said, didn’t stop you, didn’t say you had to

Joe: what’s fun about something oozing and itching in your pants, that’s all

Ronnie: of what

Joe: of every boring ex I have or will ever have

Ronnie: you wish

Ronnie: get em in a room together and they aint even jealous of each other

Joe: I know

Joe: x2

Ronnie: you dont know shit mckenna

Joe: so today I’m green

Joe: not the know-it-all smug college kid

Joe: nice to know how to play it

Ronnie: smug is right whenever i aint gonna suck your dick cause you can read music

Joe: that’s all that’s stopping you?

Ronnie: nah remember its the death wish attention whoring & mommy issues

Ronnie: cant both be functioning junkies youd have fuck all else to get a boner about

Joe: how long have you been doing heroin

Ronnie: youve got loads of catching up to do

Joe: yeah, so I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m being high and mighty

Joe: it’s literally been days

Ronnie: cause you are

Joe: no I’m not, just ‘cos I’d rather not suck dick when I have the funds

Joe: would you do it if you had the cash, that’s just stupid

Ronnie: youve been comparing me to any & every cunt since we met

Joe: like you don’t shit on me any and every chance you get

Joe: you were acting like them, the whole none of my shit is real because yours is SO real, that’s her whole bit

Ronnie: you cant stop fucking doing it even now fucks sake

Ronnie: i shit on you for you its not like i have any cunt to compare you to

Joe: alright, if you’re that sensitive about it

Joe: I’ll really stop

Joe: there 🤐

Ronnie: fuck you

Joe: nah, that was a dick move, alright

Joe: let me make it up to you

Ronnie: youre crying shes a patronising cunt guess what youre right there too

Joe: alright, I deserve that

Ronnie: drop dead

Ronnie: yeah its been days days of me giving you whatever the fuck you ask for

Joe: I know

Joe: so what do you want, seriously

Joe: I’ll do it, make it happen, whatever

Ronnie: like fuck can you make anything happen

Ronnie: youre like every other doss cunt i know theres your comparison

Joe: Probably am

Joe: but you’re the only person I’ve met who feels close to whatever the fuck I am

Joe: there’s the truth

Ronnie: whichever of your exes that worked on is more west than either of us

Joe: Oh I can easily be that dickhead and tell you how crazy they all were

Ronnie: go ed

Joe: the second to last one was the worst

Joe: full-on stalked and harassed the last one like, for no reason

Joe: she also messed with all my shit in a way she thought would send me into an OCD spiral because she didn’t get it

Joe: and when she started hooking up with some other kid she’d send me pics like I’d be 💔

Joe: that’s just after, that was all kind of amusing in a boring way, she was less amusing to be with but more mental

Ronnie: shouldve had some tips off her for the stalking bullshit its probably not too late to send her a dm

Ronnie: ones ive got from this is i dont have to bother learning the alphabet cos id be better off fucking with your record collection by smashing it up & child porn does fuck all for you

Joe: that is my thing, turning up uninvited to fuck everything up

Joe: she might go for it

Joe: exactly, both good to know, yeah 😏

Joe: all pretty basic and vanilla but still, annoying as shit

Ronnie: unless you can get me to do it for you yeah

Ronnie: dinners at what like 7

Joe: you’re gonna ruin my happy uni home?

Joe: oh no

Joe: be there be 7, eating at 8, apparently

Joe: time to ‘mingle’ as she put it which sounds suspicious af

Ronnie: fucking hell

Ronnie: thank christ i already hate you

Joe: saves times, energy less so

Joe: your mate is up for it, unless he’s a convincing liar, which I could see

Ronnie: what energy do you want name it theres gear thatll give us it

Ronnie: he is but i cant see the con shes got fuck all any cunt wants other than pasta shapes & mariahs likely on a diet

Joe: 🤤 and not over her appetizers, like

Joe: there’ll only be the 6 of us so we’ll need entertainment

Ronnie: lad flatmates bringing a bitch

Ronnie: shes gonna need something to get her through it or something she can use to end it

Joe: yeah he has a missus

Joe: even though him and Sophie belong together as the most average whitebread couple ever

Ronnie: make it happen then

Joe: where’s my bow and arrow

Joe: their 💘 ain’t my problem

Ronnie: you said you could do whatever and we needed entertainment

Ronnie: put all that money where your mouth is

Joe: you’re well sweet

Joe: you want her to be living her best life

Joe: dunno if I can hack being his shoulder to cry on in the interim

Ronnie: your teeth wont have time to rot before you choke on em talking to me like that

Joe: go on then

Ronnie: you owe me i dont owe you

Joe: I thought you’d ask for something better

Joe: but your loss

Ronnie: yours youre thinking about it

Joe: I get it, you want it to be hell living here

Ronnie: i dont wanna have to ask

Joe: for what

Ronnie: anything

Joe: why not

Ronnie: you think you can read my mind or some shit

Joe: I’d like to

Joe: and I think you get me, and yeah, I think I get you more than the bullshit mommy issues attention whore comment that was to get a reaction

Joe: I don’t think we’re twin flames just because we share some DNA, I’m not that kind of delusional, believe it or not

Ronnie: cause weve shared a needle though yeah

Joe: I get it, another kid with a habit, you’ve met hundreds

Joe: it is different though

Joe: tell me it isn’t

Ronnie: different cos its a habit you didnt have days ago

Joe: it’s not your fault

Joe: for good or bad

Joe: you didn’t spike me without asking

Ronnie: i didnt say that

Ronnie: i said thats why its different

Joe: yeah

Ronnie: nobody did any of this shit for me i dont know why im doing it for you

Joe: do you want to, or do you think you need to

Ronnie: what the fuck does it matter

Joe: you either fuck with me, you like fucking with me or you think you’ve got to protect me or some bollocks

Ronnie: protect you from the needle i stuck in your arm yeah that makes loads of sense

Joe: from getting a bad dose, being beat up by one of your dealers

Ronnie: i just wanted a front row seat

Ronnie: im not gonna get one when your family finds out

Joe: that’s fine by me

Joe: you reckon they’ll fly me home for an intervention then?

Joe: shouldn’t be surprising how oblivious they are

Ronnie: i dont care what they do to try & fix it youll be at rock bottom by then

Joe: they won’t try, they don’t

Joe: just because I weren’t shooting up doesn’t mean I haven’t been doing plenty other fucked shit for ages without it ever being a conversation

Joe: one of the kids that they took in, is a walking skeleton

Joe: can’t get her to eat, some reason don’t do anything but try to reason with her like she’s reasonable, never mind the rest

Ronnie: no shit they dont i was proof of it before you or her

Ronnie: in the same town with the same name she fucking gave me and still out of sight out of mind

Joe: precisely

Joe: so if you’re hoping fucking me up will get her to come about then you shouldn’t bother, honestly

Joe: save yourself that disappointment

Ronnie: it aint about her paying attention

Joe: good

Ronnie: you wanna know me i only want you to know what it feels like

Joe: then let’s do it

Ronnie: nah i was rem to reckon it was worth shit

Ronnie: it aint

Ronnie: you aint

Ronnie: youre never gonna have your head wrecked how mine is and i cant be arsed to put the time in fucking you up in the selfish special way i need when you keep pure loving it like

Joe: is that not indicative of how I’m already quite fucked enough

Joe: just because it’s not abandonment based

Joe: what normal cunt would love any of this, even contact you again after the first

Ronnie: fuck no

Ronnie: youre living your best life and it makes me wanna hang myself

Joe: Christ, you’re up yourself, aren’t you

Ronnie: &

Joe: you want me to roll my sleeves up again and show you the recent damage?

Ronnie: yeah

Joe: [pics]

Ronnie: [obvs gotta send him some back]

Joe: [a straight up new one like just did it]

Ronnie: [ofc she has to also like this is a competition]

Joe: [hope you started small so you have somewhere to go ‘cos the vibe]

Ronnie: [knowing y’all you didn’t but it won’t stop you and I will be forever on edge]

Joe: [so grim, don’t pass out]

Ronnie: [or end up needing stitches]

Joe: [probably do them yourselves, ick]

Joe: do you fucking get it yet

Ronnie: why do you care

Joe: why do you think

Ronnie: i keep telling you i dont

Joe: braindead sounds ideal

Ronnie: horse girl not about to suffocate you

Joe: she would if I let her, like

Joe: 🍈🍈

Ronnie: wait til theres a chance ill choke on my vomit next time christ

Joe: so lay back and I’ll tell you some more

Ronnie: ok go

Joe: [go on about Sophie in a way I shall not even bother but let us assume it is crude and rude af]

Ronnie: [we’re not into poor Soph but they clearly are]

Joe: [just fuck and get it out the way lads, so rude to everyone else rn]

Ronnie: [honestly, but hopefully at this dinner party because Jamie jealousy will be off the charts]

Joe: [Charlie gon have to keep quiet ‘til you home lmao]

Joe: Any luck?

Ronnie: got no pasta shapes in my system have i

Ronnie: but why the fuck are you not lurking to save me

Joe: you want me to swallow the bile for you then, okay

Joe: the last one looked deep

Ronnie: deep enough if you wanna pussy out and spit instead

Joe: I don’t

Joe: where are you

Ronnie: dorothys

Joe: he in?

Joe: if I have to show him it’s brotherly concern you’ll only die quicker

Ronnie: nosey cunt wouldve stopped me

Joe: Yeah

Joe: I can say sorry if you want or I can just come patch you up and not lie first

Ronnie: i dont need your help

Joe: I know

Joe: purely wanna save you for my own complex and to be loving life even harder

Ronnie: wank off about the sos from the other day thats it i cant top you carrying me out til the bleeding stops

Joe: I’m coming over

Joe: you’ve got time to lock the door if you really don’t want me to come in

Joe: can get my own shattered glass without breaking his windows

Ronnie: he must like you to have given you his address

Ronnie: but not enough to overshare the door dont lock cos i broke it 💔

Joe: or am I better stalker than you give credit

Joe: thanks for the tip, baby

Ronnie: youd have been waiting for me to get here not the other way round

Joe: You do want me to read your mind

Joe: maybe a lobotomy will help

Ronnie: hot

Ronnie: reading your mind you want me to pass out before you fuck me but its not that deep

Joe: the wound or the vIbEzzZ

Ronnie: this your coming out cos you sound like charlie

Joe: just trying to turn you off, don’t want blood to gush out

Ronnie: liar youd be made up to see that

Joe: not hiding in the bushes yet

Joe: slow down

Ronnie: youre used to being the big brother i get it

Joe: Something like that

Ronnie: i know how to ride a bike without stabilisers or whatever the fuck

Joe: and tie your shoes

Joe: it’s alright, we’ve established I’m not a paedo

Joe: what can’t you do then

Ronnie: err what a nonce would say

Ronnie: read music we also fucking established

Joe: you teach me how to shoot myself up, I’ll teach you how to

Ronnie: not a fair swap i dont need to learn how

Joe: You don’t wanna be a babysitter either, so you’ve said

Ronnie: you dont like me any more or what

Joe: Of course I do

Joe: You got me my own dealer first

Ronnie: you asked me to 1st

Joe: How did I?

Ronnie: what else is ? for a plug without giving a fuck if ive rattled myself into a ditch

Joe: If I talked to you as much as I felt like

Joe: You’d tell me to fuck off more than you already do

Joe: I’ve got no clue where the line is, how much you want me to care

Ronnie: what line

Ronnie: i dont want you to care

Joe: Tough shit

Joe: I didn’t ask you to get me a dealer

Ronnie: you fucking did

Joe: I just didn’t wanna see you suck dick on my behalf, alright, that’s all

Joe: what you do for yourself is your business

Ronnie: calm down nothing i do is for you

Joe: 👌

Ronnie: dont call her then

Joe: you on commission?

Ronnie: 🖕

Joe: If I do, you’ll still have to see me

Ronnie: youll see me bleed out on the kitchen floor 1st

Joe: You’re a pro, I know you’re being overly-dramatic

Ronnie: at opening as many veins as itll take to not have to see you again yeah

Joe: to make me hurry*

Joe: I’m on the tube

Joe: you have to live in the middle of nowhere

Ronnie: no fixed address i told you

Joe: ❗️

Joe: if there’s a break-up or a thruple, you can have the extra room

Joe: makes sense now

Ronnie: it dont make sense you reckon we can afford any extras however far out

Joe: like you said, she’ll get homesick and chuck it in even if Marc won’t dump his girlfriend

Ronnie: if she does youll be homeless too like unless his missus is gonna cover the costs of the en suite for you

Joe: you can have my room, it’s the smallest

Joe: they can have the en-suite palace and I’ll take theirs, which is not next to the others 👌

Ronnie: not that youve thought loads about it

Joe: if you heard her disney playlist everyday, you’d think about it as well

Ronnie: id think about killing her or myself not a cosy little bed swap

Ronnie: shed never hack living with me nor would you

Joe: well that thought is never far from the front of my mind

Joe: if you need the bed, you know it’s yours

Ronnie: get it through your head i need fuck all from you

Joe: yeah, yeah

Ronnie: theres this way of living when youre not inside your ma in every possible sense course you aint heard about it

Joe: you need to prove you’re self-sufficient ‘cos no one’s ever given a shit about you but Charlie and the other one

Joe: I’m aware you’ve made it to your old age without me, you’re alright

Ronnie: i need to be it the only proofs im not dead yet baby

Ronnie: you need me to be old cos im not in a fucking coma & you cant get it up else

Joe: I’d rather be in the coma myself but you can be too

Joe: not calling dibs

Ronnie: oldest gets 1st dibs

Joe: *until the youngest cries about it so much you get told to give in to shut ‘em up

Ronnie: try me

Joe: you know you can’t hack my crying

Joe: does your head in SO much

Ronnie: save it for when you need lube or horse girl is gonna be coming after you with the leftover glue so you can never fucking leave her

Joe: come at you with the needle and sew us together, babe

Joe: unlucky

Ronnie: more than unlucky if i cant bust a stitch open to be the dead girl you want

Joe: you’re the dead girl I want already come on

Ronnie: til i teach you how to 💉 yourself

Joe: nah

Ronnie: 💘

Joe: looking well deformed these days, my one

Ronnie: could cut it out know youd be made up for the matching needlework

Joe: you play mad professor I’ll play corpse

Ronnie: long as i dont have to play nice

Joe: know what you take me for, actually, but no

Joe: obviously not

Ronnie: cant take you anywhere even if i did wanna

Joe: god imagine the dent in your street cred, sis

Ronnie: if i could cry i obviously would

Joe: repression or fucked tear ducts from all the 😭 you been doing

Ronnie: what im that baby faced youre taking me for a newborn now

Joe: nah, mr i don’t fuck kids here, remember

Joe: plus kids are always calling 999 by mistake and they’d get there before me

Joe: maybe, depends how many people have stabbed other people today

Ronnie: id have got the numbers up but ive been busy like

Joe: gotta make time for you, babes

Joe: it’s called self-care

Ronnie: ask me what with

Ronnie: shittest stalker ever you are

Joe: go on

Joe: school us

Ronnie: cant cry cos when i was linking you with a plug you dont want i was getting myself linked with your meds

Ronnie: best guess as a better stalker than you & less basic white girl than your crazy ex

Joe: 💡 fairplay

Joe: won’t tell you any other side-affects, see if you can guess ‘em right

Ronnie: i wasnt gonna take em but you want me to get you so bad

Joe: yeah misunderstood white boy is selling less these days

Joe: help a brother out

Ronnie: fuck all has happened so i probably cant

Joe: 💔 oh well

Joe: they’re nothing exciting, even though I managed to get the highest dosage they’ll do

Ronnie: maybe mines off for not giving you the benefit of the doubt when i could continue reckoning youre such a pussy

Joe: you’ll forget by tomorrow, no problem

Ronnie: neither brother is gonna let me if they walk in on me microdosing theyll reckon its a getting well party and get the deccies out

Joe: only so many times you can just kidding that ‘fore it gets old

Joe: we’ll go out, when I get there

Ronnie: where you kidnapping me to baby

Joe: I know enough to know it’s all wrong turns and blindfolds, not giving you a map

Ronnie: if its a&e no cunts finding your body even with a map

Joe: piss off

Ronnie: give us a clue

Joe: I’ll mark it with an X if you do me

Ronnie: if you ever fucking get here

Joe: if we were sewn together this wouldn’t be a problem

Ronnie: wanting to look like twins so nobodyll give a shit that you wanna fuck me would be something youd think about on the tube mckenna

Joe: they run in my old man’s DNA so have to look for those bastards instead

Joe: all I know about hers is addiction

Ronnie: course he does fuck alls your own idea

Ronnie: if hes got a sister even a meff nancy drew like youll be able to find bastards they had together

Joe: loads, Catholic, remember

Joe: twins kid is black though so process of elimination

Ronnie: cute how that runs in your family too like

Joe: guess so

Joe: not like it’s that crazy a concept

Ronnie: not like youve ever met an irish catholic who werent a saint yeah

Joe: it’s a fucked place to live

Joe: really third world in that respect

Ronnie: your real da is who you wanna look for if hes got no bastards going about its cos he cant knock anyone up

Joe: that your all men are pigs stance

Joe: alright courtney calm down

Joe: I’m out now anyway, don’t need a real mum or dad to come rescue us from the priests and that

Ronnie: nah its a fact unless his twin kept going up the backstreet or he was only sticking it in her other 2 holes

Joe: they didn’t really grow up together

Joe: he left when he was 15

Joe: maybe she was a late bloomer, happy days

Ronnie: 💔 your ma wasn’t then i wouldnt be here

Joe: no dig about how you’re dying now anyway ‘cos I’m taking so long?

Joe: you must be fading fast and not just being a dramatic bitch

Joe: good thing I’m in [wherever we ended up locating y’all] now

Ronnie: shut up i said its not that deep

Ronnie: youre the dramatic bitch legging it here for a fucking scratch

Joe: you wanted me to

Ronnie: you want to i dont give a shit

Joe: right, that’s what I meant

Ronnie: you can stop with the gay shit i told you hes not here

Joe: gays don’t own sarcasm

Ronnie: they own getting attached to cunts fast who dont care

Joe: awh, you being replaced rn?

Ronnie: horse girl wishes

Joe: Can’t catch a break or a man that one

Ronnie: after a pity fuck with you who knows what shed catch

Joe: you wanna infect her by-proxy, you’re so blatant

Ronnie: i shouldve got you to bring her my bloods everywhere

Joe: adding her puke to the mix would make it interesting, sure

Joe: bet she knows first aid

Ronnie: if youre too pussy to break my ribs yourself get back on the tube

Joe: threaten me with a good time

Ronnie: i just did

Joe: without meaning it, yeah

Ronnie: try and hurt me i mean it

Joe: [why do y’all always set the tension so high lads lmao, we know but]

Ronnie: [me and my boo here like calm down you can’t hook up yet but they are both like !!!!]

Joe: [shouldn’t have let you get on that train sir but you would so]

Ronnie: [I shouldn’t let her open her mouth ever but here we are]

Joe: [forreal lmao]

Ronnie: [gotta draw an x on him in her blood when he shows up before we can do a more permanent one however we are either as a scar or tattoo so soz for increasing the tension even more lol]

Joe: [just got to stare at her for ages and then shove her away very dramatically ‘cos you can’t, head through to whichever room she was bleeding in to assess/gawp at]

Ronnie: [she’s gotta lol like well if that’s the best you can do at trying to hurt me I’m not worried]

Joe: [‘whaddya use?’ and just going through this flat as if you’ve been here before/were invited by anyone but Ronnie vaguely because manners can’t matter when we’ve gone this far already]

Ronnie: ['what, you didn't

touch yourself enough on the tube?' but we are obvs showing him whatever we did use because it's just another way to flirt and we can use it to make that x happen so]

Joe: [shakes head ‘spill too much and they emergency stop’ and a look like do I look like I wanna be on a psychward but in a 😏 don’t answer that way, doing our own tallies with it, of course]

Ronnie: ['we're walking then' like where are you taking me don't get comfy bitch]

Joe: [little disbelieving lol like excuse me princess ‘your carriage was unavailable’

Ronnie: ['no shit the horse is dead busy']

Joe: [‘I ain’t taking you to a stable’]

Ronnie: ['that's where we ain't going, now tell me where the fuck we are' because we're like an excited kid about this]

Joe: [it’s cute and we clearly think so even if we’re distracting ourselves with this self-harm so we don’t go too far, unrelated but I haven’t thought where yous are going lmao but I’m vibing something London but something she wouldn’t have done, something music related, also if it has like, kid vibes, bonus, I’ll have to look so just keeping tight-lipped to be annoying and surveying the bloody carnage he’s now added to ‘you want to clean up?’]

Ronnie: [it'd be cute if there was something like thinktank but for music instead of science but idk if that exists anyways in answer to that question she's just gonna remove her top or whatever like yeah it do have blood on even though we know that's not what he means because we're still in a flirty mood despite how annoying his non reply is]

Joe: [that’s what I’m vibing but likewise have no idea, I’m sure there is shit though and you could find it Joseph, anyway, truly the this is fine meme about that ‘cos you can’t turn away 😳 but also boy don’t, moving like you’re gonna come close to her though]

Ronnie: [soz Charlie cos she shamelessly threw her top on the floor and isn't gonna clean up any of this blood even on herself like I literally should say she goes to the sink and then to get clean clothes but instead we all know she's just gonna take Joe's jacket or whatever and put that on, thank god he's all about the layers]

Joe: [god bless the grunge

aesthetic, ‘do you do it in front of him?’ and touching the cuts that are still showing ‘cos you know there’s some still, and it is like when and where do you do this when you do not have a room lmao]

Ronnie: ['yeah' leaving it up to him whether he wants to think it's in an attention whore way cos we're still annoyed at that call out lol but realistically it's just because of how long they've known each other and how they be living, she's not actively trying to upset Charlie that much most of the time]

Joe: [‘does he do it?’ ‘cos we can’t imagine it from the little we know but also can’t imagine him just chilling if he isn’t as fucked as them]

Ronnie: [the facial expression equivalent of his amused lol earlier because no]

Joe: [dropping it even though you find this odd like don’t worry boy, the tea is he is getting over it and wanting her to stop, pulling the jacket sleeve to take her out the door like come on]

Ronnie: ['he knows what'll happen if he tries to stop me' cos you can't tell me that when they were younger he didn't do exactly that and she went ballistic but more importantly HOW DARE YOU BOO because that is 1000% a Fraze move and I'm dead]

Joe: [yes I thought it was legit for a parallel, enjoy the long trip back to central guys]

Ronnie: [idk how we are gonna stop you hooking up to fill the time other than the other people in close proximity lol]

Joe: [maybe a uni/work obligation can come in and he has to go like legit ‘cos that’d kill this off]

Ronnie: [personally devastated that means an iou for this cute date but I love how fuming she would be at never finding out where they were going]

Ronnie: [not to mention the not at all casual and public domestic they’d have would be such a fat mood and show she cares when she’s literally like umm what the fuck do you mean you’re leaving]

Joe: [love how blatant we both are individually]

Ronnie: [hard same]

Joe: They sprung that rehearsal on us last minute

Joe: I already said, I’d give you the funds and you could go do whatever

Ronnie: and i told you to go fuck yourself

Ronnie: or your cello

Joe: I wouldn’t have wasted my time let alone yours if I knew that was gonna happen

Joe: how would you go about fucking a cello, exactly

Ronnie: waste more of your own time figuring it out its your raging hard on for it

Joe: I can’t not go

Joe: they make you sign a bloodoath when you get in basically

Joe: no excuses

Ronnie: youd have found an excuse fast enough if id stuck a needle in your arm

Joe: no, I wouldn’t, ‘cos it wasn’t an option

Joe: there was already enough damage to hide

Ronnie: i dont give a shit what options youve got

Joe: right, tell it to the crowd that amassed, they might believe you a tiny bit more than I do

Joe: I’ll make it up to you, okay

Ronnie: thats what soft cunts wanna hear when you cant hide no more & since you reckon you wont be getting forced into treatment you get to keep your gob shut for all that being sorry bullshit

Joe: make it into something it ain’t ‘cos you can’t hack hearing it

Ronnie: i dont wanna hear from you end of

Joe: alright

Joe: see you around then

Ronnie: 🖕

1 note · View note

hutchhitched · 4 years

Text

The Vintage Joshifer Series: End of Love—Chapter 21 (Final Chapter)

End of Love by hutchhitched

Finally, y’all! A million years ago during Catching Fire promo, I stumbled into a friendship with some amazing Joshifer fans. Despite not being a full-blown shipper, I was absolutely thrilled to see an interest in writing historical AU fanfiction. For a long while, I knew what I wanted to write, but I couldn’t get the words to come. By the time I started posting, it seemed most of the Joshifer fandom had (understandably) moved on, but I still wanted to write this story and complete the commitment. After numerous delays and more stutters and stops than I can count, my contribution to @thevintagejoshiferseries is complete.

Big thanks to @burlesonspride for the banner and encouragement to join in on the fun. I know we don’t talk much anymore and you’ve moved on to other ventures, but I still adore you. There are a lot of others who deserve thanks, too, but you know who you are.

I chose the 1960s because the decade of rebellion speaks to me in so many ways. With recent events, I hope it does with some of you, too. There are so many people still struggling for political, economic, and human rights. The fight’s not over. Keep going.

Historical events in this chapter include the following:

The concert at Altamont in December 1969 became the symbol of excess and the end of a peaceful counterculture. If Woodstock was the ideal, Altamont demonstrated excess and danger and a drug culture that was out of control. There’s a lot of information on the event itself, but here are some great articles from Rolling Stone, the History Channel, Forbes, and The New Yorker.

Berkeley, California, December 1969

“Oh my GAWWWWWWWWWD!!!!!” Brenda squealed as Jen emerged from the airport and streaked toward her college roommate. “It’s been so long. You look so good!”

“You look so good, too!” Jen cried as she enveloped the other girl. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you so much, honey.”

“You don’t miss me. I’m nobody. Unlike my former roommate who’s the toast of the networks. I’m so proud of you, Jennifer!”

“Well, my professional life is great anyway,” Jen offered wryly and swallowed against the anger and pain that always lingered just below the surface since Josh’s disappearance over a year ago. “I’m happy about that.”

“You really haven’t heard from him at all? No phone call? Not even another letter explaining anything?”

Jen chuckled as she imagined Josh sitting down to write to her. The last time she’d seen him, he hadn’t been very interested in the written word. She couldn’t imagine that had changed much in the past twelve months, no matter how badly she wanted to hold onto the image of her former whatever-he’d-been as the guy she’d met in college and fallen in love with despite her best intentions. And now look where that had gotten her.

“Nothing. Besides, I don’t live in Chicago anymore, remember? New York City’s a better fit, and my coverage of Stonewall made my career. He knows how to find me if he wants to hear from me again.”

“But Jen—”

“I looked for him, you know,” she admitted. “When I was in the Village and the protestors were marching in the streets. I saw Andre, Josh’s college roommate. He’s been part of the gay underground for years, and I thought maybe he might be there. Still an activist. Still fighting for change. To make the world better, but he wasn’t. None of his friends have heard from him since Nixon was elected, and I’m damn sure not going to call his family. They don’t know me, and I’m not going to beg him to be part of my life anymore. I’ve sacrificed enough for him.”

Jen’s pronouncement hung in the air, and Brenda had enough grace to pretend she believed her. The silence stretched between the two women until Brenda shook her head and suggested they make their way to the cab line and head to their hotel. After all, they had a limited amount of time to get reacquainted before the alumni event they were supposed to attend.

Jen blinked away tears as they drove through town and by campus. Memories assailed her at every corner, and she suddenly felt very old for someone who’d only graduated from college a few years prior. She wanted to kick herself for running out on Josh the night they’d first slept together, and she regretted not working through their problems when they lived together in Chicago. It had just been so easy to run or to seduce him instead. Sex had always been good between the two of them, and she liked it. She’d felt empowered when he lost himself in her or when he’d turned to her body for comfort. The problem was that he’d stopped looking to her and started hiding, too. When they’d both ignored their problems, they’d lost each other.

A year later hadn’t dulled the ache of his absence. She’d been grieving since the election, but Josh had been for far longer. If she was fortunate—no, lucky—enough to find him again, she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice or however many times it was now. It would have to be pure luck to run into him again after all the ways fate had brought them together in the past, and she’d never been one to find four-leaf clovers. Unfortunately, last November seemed to be the end of their love story, no matter how much she wanted it to be another way.

“You know there’s a big Stones concert tomorrow not far from here. Some of my friends are going.” Jen jumped when Brenda’s words broke through her reverie.

“Really? I love them.”

“I know,” her old roommate said with a grin. “Want to go?”

“Absolutely! Wait, is this at Altamont? Woodstock West?”

“I knew you’d know what I was talking about. Sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re in the news business and have your ear to the ground more than us mere mortals.”

“Please,” Jen scoffed, but the wheels in her brain started turning. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a quick phone call.”

With that she made a beeline for the payphones on the far side of the hotel lobby. If she could pull a few strings, she could tie this to her job and make her friend really happy. What use was working herself to death and making her way up the ladder, slapping away the roving hands, working ten times harder than her male colleagues only to get a third as far—what use was any of that if she couldn’t sometimes cash in her success for press passes at a major counterculture event? None, that’s what, so she was damn well going to call her affiliate and let them know where she was.

After she completed her call, she made her way back to Brenda and they retired to their room to get ready for the alumni event. Jen made it through with as much grace and class as she could while attempting to stymie the rush of emotions that hit her every time she turned her head. She drank a little too much and laughed louder than she would have if she’d been acting completely like herself, but she survived. More than anything, she held onto the promise of seeing her favorite band in concert the next day. If she managed to score the press passes, even better.

“We need to make a stop on the way to the speedway. Can you be ready to go in 30?” Jen asked when they woke the next morning.

“What’s going on?”

“I need to stop by the local NBC affiliate to pick up some papers. My boss is being a real stickler about my time off while I’m out here. Something about an assignment. I want to make sure we have plenty of time to get to Altamont before the big names go onstage.”

“Why?”

“Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but… Because I got us press passes. We’ll be able to get anywhere with them—including backstage.”

Brenda squealed and hugged her friend, which made Jen smile. It felt good that her hard work could help make someone else feel so good.

“Altamont, here we come!”

****

“This is a gas!” Brenda yelled into Jen’s ear. “These passes are the best.”

Smiling, Jennifer nodded and then pointed to the crowd indicating she was headed into the fray for a little bit. Brenda indicated her approval, and Jen headed off by herself for a few minutes. There were so many people at the racetrack. The music was loud, and she needed a break. Besides, she wanted to check out the crowd in case she could use the information she gathered for a news story later. After all, she was a journalist, a damn good one, at that, and her career came first. Now that her love life was dead, something had to.

Experiencing Altamont made her regret not taking her boss up on his suggestion she cover Woodstock. She’d considered it for a second, but she’d been exhausted from coverage of the Stonewall riots and then traveled home for a family function. At the time, she hadn’t wanted to take off on another assignment when there was plenty of news to cover in the city itself. If she had, though, she’d be able to compare the two music festivals.

The crowd at Altamont seemed perfectly content, albeit jittery. The lower the sun dropped in the sky, the more unrest she felt. She stepped around a shirtless, bearded man on the edge of the mosh pit in front of the stage and froze. There, not even ten feet from her, was Josh Hutcherson, alive and in the flesh. The man who’d haunted her dreams and had made her weep far too often over the past year was there, cheering and whooping as the Rolling Stones shifted into another song.

People surged around her. Frozen in place, she couldn’t drop her gaze from his face. Josh’s face. She’d imagined reuniting with him a million times, but now that the opportunity existed, she had no idea what to do or how to act or what to say. Stunned and breathless, she tried to smile, but she was positive her face held more of a grimace than anything else. And then he turned slightly, and she could tell the exact moment when he saw her. His handsome face went slack in shock, and he took a tentative, hobbled step toward her.

It took a minute for her to realize something had shifted. Someone pushed while another shoved back, and the concertgoers pressed closer together. Squeezed between two large men, she fought for space and scrambled frantically to keep Josh in her sights.

All hell erupted around her as men in black leather infiltrated the crowd. She saw a person fall and then another. Panicked fans stepped over the bodies on the ground, and she had to fight to stay upright at people swarmed around her. She struggled against the tightening noose, but she was losing ground.

“Jennifer!”

Suddenly, he was in front of her, pulling and tugging her free from the throng. He grabbed her hand and bulled his way toward the perimeter where it seemed there wasn’t quite so much danger.

“What are you doing here?” he shouted over the noise. “I thought you were in New York?”

She gaped at him. “How did you know that? Why are you here? Where have you been? And why the fuck did you leave me in Chicago, you shitless bastard?”

Josh opened and closed his mouth a few times before his face broke into a wide grin. “God, I missed you,” he laughed and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could shake him off, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Stunned, she stiffened under the onslaught, but she gradually melted into him. She’d forgotten how good he was at this, how his lips and tongue and teeth combined to weaken her knees and shatter her resolve. Then, she was kissing him back, passionate and frantic as he held her to him. She was seconds from tearing his shirt over his head when someone slammed into them. Hard.

He broke away and glanced around them to assess the situation. “We need to get out of here,” he shouted and grabbed her hand to pull her along.

“Wait! Brenda’s here. She’s backstage. I can’t leave her.”

“Jen! I want you safe.”

She shook her head and twisted to look at the stage. Everything was in chaos, but she glimpsed her roommate briefly. She waved and ducked away under the arm of one of the workers who’d been flocking around them when they’d first arrived. If the wide grin on her face was any indication, Brenda would be absolutely fine.

“Let’s go!” she yelled but allowed him to pull her behind him through the rioting crowd and into a clear area near the parking lot.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands running over her shoulders and arms and then back up to her face. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I’m okay. Josh…”

His lips were on hers again, warm and comforting and more than a little urgent. She wanted to lose herself in him, find comfort in a way she hadn’t been able to for so long. More than anything, she craved his skin against hers. More than she wanted to know why he’d gone or where he’d been or what his future plans were. She just needed him in a way she couldn’t explain. She only knew that she felt like she’d come home when she was with him. After all this time, he was still the person that made her feel more herself than anyone else.

It felt like seconds and decades at the same time, but finally, their frantic make out session ended and they could look at each other more fully. She had a million questions, but the most important was the one she managed to blurt as he studied her with his hazel gaze.

“Do you love me?”

He raised his hand to her left cheek and traced her cheekbone with his thumb. His eyes flickered over her, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Of course, I love you,” he laughed. “I always have. I’ve been an idiot—worse, I’ve been a complete ass—but I’ve been in love with you for a decade.”

“I live in New York. I’m not moving.”

“I’ve already got my plane ticket back there. I was just staying with Connor through the holidays.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t blame you. I haven’t been very trustworthy, and I’m sorry.”

She glared at him, but she couldn’t find her anger. His presence was a balm she hadn’t even known she’d needed. When he’d left, she’d thought it was the end of their love, but maybe tonight was really the beginning. If the last decade had taught her nothing else, everything was a gamble. Maybe she had another big one left in her.

“Hey, Hutch.”

“Yeah?” It felt like the world around them was holding its breath.

“Take me home.”

When he reached for her hand, she took it.

****

The drive to his brother’s apartment seemed to take forever and not nearly long enough. She wasn’t nervous, exactly, but it had been over a year since he’d left. How would it feel to be with him again after all this time and so much pain between them?

“Connor’s out with friends tonight. Spending the night with his boyfriend,” Josh announced as they pulled into a parking spot.

“Okay,” she replied and sucked in a breath to hold. At least they wouldn’t have an audience for their reunion.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said, and she raised her eyes to his. Vulnerability poured from him, and she suddenly wanted to soothe him. She had the ability to provide him comfort, and that’s what she wanted more than anything else in that moment.

“I want to do everything,” she answered firmly.

He led her up the stairs to his brother’s apartment and unlocked the door. When they were inside, he tossed his keys on the table and turned to her. She went to him, and he pulled her close. His arms wrapped around her back to nestle her against his chest. Slowly, he lifted her chin and pressed his lips against hers.

It was a chaste kiss, but it lit a fire inside her. She deepened the kiss by tilting her head and opening her mouth. Her tongue begged for attention, and he slid his against hers. His muffled grunt was matched by her lusty moan, and the thin veil of control they clung to snapped.

“Jennifer,” he sighed. Their hands grappled with their clothing as it fell piece by piece. Frantic, she hopped onto the kitchen table and tucked him between her legs. He rubbed her quickly, just a tiny bit of prep, and then he was inside her, thrusting with his head thrown back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as he rammed into her. The table creaked under them, and she gripped him inside her tighter and tighter as he plunged erratically into her depths.

“Fuck!” he shouted to the ceiling when his body tensed. He sank into her, and she felt a wet heat pulsing inside her when he came.

She cradled him to her, grateful for his warmth in the chilling apartment, until he came back to himself. His mouth sought hers in a lazy journey across her cheek until they were kissing and kissing and then kissing more and more and more. She couldn’t get enough of him. He surrounded her, made her feel like she’d found everything she needed, and grounded her to the present.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her lips. “I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

She whimpered, both at his words, and him pulling out of her, but that turned to a forceful howl when he sank to his knees in front of her. She spread her legs further, and he leaned forward. Falling back on the table, she pressed her eyes closed and allowed herself to float. His tongue and fingers and lips and facial hair all worked to drive her over the edge, and she gripped the edge of the table as an orgasm rushed through her. Panting, she begged him to keep going.

He took his time, nuzzling against her until she writhed under him. He prodded her legs into different positions, interspersed sucking on her clit with shoving his fingers inside her until she was wailing. She couldn’t control the sounds that poured from her any more than she could stop from climaxing multiple times as he took her apart.

She lost track of time, of her name, of her roles and responsibilities. Nothing mattered but him on her, connected and intertwined in a way she always wanted them to be, that they’d never quite managed when they held back from each other. For the first time in ages, she felt he was completely open to her, and she responded in kind. Any inhibitions she still held fell away, and she ground against his face harder and harder.

“Josh, I need more,” she whined, desperate for him to be inside her again.

He stumbled to his feet and scooped her from the table. Half-carrying, half-supporting her, he walked them across the room to the ratty couch in the living room. Woozily, she glanced at the rumpled blankets and sheets where he’d obviously been sleeping and sank onto his lap when he sat.

“You deserve so much better than a shitty couch in a rundown apartment. I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing,” she slurred and kissed him. “I forgive you. I love you, too. Now, fuck me.”

Josh buried his face in her neck and guided her thighs to the outside of his. She sank onto him and rocked her hips, meeting his stroke with hers. She rode him, then, bouncing and moaning his name, clutching his hair and raking her nails down his back as they raced to the finish. They reached it together, clinging to each other as they panted each other’s names. Her back bowed, and she dove over the edge, reaching for him, clinging to the man she’d met so many years ago, who’d helped her discover who she really was, what she believed in, and how she could fight for those principles. She didn’t want anyone else to take his place, and this time she’d battle for him as long as she needed to keep him by her side.

When they finished, they lay together, hearts beating rapidly, and caressed every inch of bare skin they could reach. They made promises and plans, both grandiose and mundane, but most importantly, they made a pledge.

Despite everything, there wouldn’t be the end of love. Instead, they were at the beginning.

#the vintage joshifer series #end of love #joshifer #joshifer fanfiction #joshifersource #joshiferrecs #jhutchdirectory #fyeah-joshifer #1960s

13 notes · View notes

peteywillproceed · 5 years

Text

Stitch Me Back Together

A/N: Ahhhhhhh! I had so much fun writing this one! It’s not at all edited because I wrote it as a distraction from some shitty things at the moment and it 100% worked! I hope you love this as much as I do x

Summary: You’ve known Peter Parker for as long as you can remember, and for the past few years you’ve been fixing him up after his patrol nights. But it only takes one thing, one word, to change everything you believed about your relationship.

Word Count: 3,303

You groaned into your Chemistry work, wanting nothing more than to slam your head against the desk and throw the damned thing out the window. Shapes and equations swam through your vision, seeming to lift off the page and crawl through your brain the more tired you got. You knew the sensible thing would have been to call it a night, but that stupid, unreasonable side of your brain kept insisting you finish it tonight. God, you needed a distraction.

As if on cue, your phone pinged, lighting up with the familiar head of curly brown hair, his mask half off as he reached in protest for your camera. You remembered that day, when he’d slipped through your window after one of his first patrol nights, and you’d begged him to let you take a photo, just for you to know the truth. As if you could forget your best friend was Spiderman.

“Hey, Parker,” you grinned against the phone “what’s new?”

“Hey, listen, um…are you still awake?” he sounded breathless, wind blowing into the speaker like he was running. You were suddenly bolt upright, ignoring his stupid question, all your tiredness gone as you gripped the phone with renewed panic.

“Yeah, of course I am. Please tell me you’re alright.” Your heart was pounding against your chest and you barely noticed your pen had clattered to the floor, the ink spilling over your floor.

“I think I am,” he said, almost making you choke.

“Peter Parker, you better give me a damned sight better answer than that!”

“Alright alright fine! My arm’s pretty shredded, can you fix me up? Aunt May will kill me if I go back looking like this.”

You sighed into the phone, abandoning your work for the night and collapsing on your bed. It was always the same with Peter; go out and fight some weird ass bad guy, get hurt, come crying to you. Well, alright, you’d never seen him crying about it, but for Christ’s sakes he really needed to tell his aunt about this. You’d been the fall guy enough times, and it was starting to grind on your last nerve. Friendship be damned.

“You know where I am,” you mumbled into the phone, and with a brief ‘thanks’, the line went dead, leaving you staring up at your ceiling.

It wasn’t that you hated stitching Peter up, it was that you hated having to do it in the first place. You admitted that would make no sense to any normal person, but in your mind you understood why he was doing what he was doing. He’d told you enough times about the responsibility he felt with his abilities. You’d always accepted he had to do it, you’d just never signed up to bearing the fall out from when it inevitably got him hurt.

The first few times he’d done it, you hadn’t even questioned it, grabbing a needle and stitching him back together, ignoring the new profanities he’d let slip. But now, at 2am, you were really wondering whether watching your best friend get hurt and not being able to do anything about it was worth it, because it wasn’t just him getting hurt at this point.

You didn’t know when your feelings towards Peter had changed, but they definitely had at some point. Maybe it was senior year, when he’d saved you from falling off a building, or maybe it was back before all this Spiderman crap, right back in middle school when he’d held your hand in the school play. Either way, the fact you still hadn’t figured it out and you were in college said enough about your brain, and you weren’t sure you would ever be in the right head space to fix it.

Suddenly, a light tap on the window dragged you from your thoughts, and you looked up to the familiar sight of the red and blue suit, the mask clutched in one hand whilst the other was grasping his bicep. Without hesitating, you threw open the window and let him in, staring in horror at the blood trickling down his suit.

“Peter!” You exclaimed, grabbing his arm in shock “What the hell happened?”

“Can you be careful?” he winced, almost jerking away.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, too dumbfounded to say anything. This was bad, much worse than it usually was – he had a long, deep gash running the length of his arm. It had torn open the suit and the blood was falling faster than you could catch it, staining your wooden floors with a deep scarlet.

At last, you met his eye and bit your lip. “Pete, you need the hospital. I can’t do anything.”

“No!” he almost shouted, his eyes becoming pleading. “Please, Y/n, if I end up in the hospital they’ll need to know how it happened and how the hell can I explain that? And all the tests they run? They’d figure out who I am in no time!”

“Pete, this is really really deep.” You were training to be a doctor, you knew these things – you could see the fat underneath for God’s sakes!

“Please? I know you can do it,” he was basically begging now, and you could feel your resolve start to cave.

“You’ll be the death of me Parker,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the palpable relief in his face and starting to root in your cupboard for your suture kit.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah save that grovelling. If I lose my license because of this, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Good thing you’re not an actual doctor then,” he joked, and you threw him a withering look.

“Seriously, Parker you’re not making this any better for yourself!” You raised an eyebrow and he only grinned, watching your face as you threaded the needle.

“You’ve gotta be an expert at stitching me up by now, though.”

“Mmhmm,” you murmured non-committedly. It was true, you could absolutely have done this blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back at this point. You were so used to what his skin felt like, the little pock marks and endless scars you’d helped to heal; you could practically have drawn a map of every inch of his body if you really had to, although the thought was enough to send shivers through your mind. You really didn’t need to think about him naked right now.

“It’s true,” he continued, wriggling out of the suit “it’s like you’re my own personal medical advisor.”

You scoffed, sanitising the needle and pushing the two edges of the skin together. You bit your lip, about to open your mouth to remind him it would hurt, but you’d done it so often that he was just looking at you with quiet understanding, so you plunged in. You felt him tense every time the needle pierced the skin, and you worked as quietly as you could, so you didn’t have to keep causing him pain.

“Jesus, Parker, you could’ve tried not to cut all your arteries on the way!” your eyebrows shot into your hairline, knowing full well that without his super healing, he would’ve been dead hours ago.

“Sorry, sorry,” he held his hands up, laughing as you slapped them back down. “You’re feisty tonight, what’s got you in a mood?”

You shook your head, not wanting to get into your frustrations, but cool fingers resting against your temple made you freeze and look up to meet his gaze. He was concerned, looking at you like you might run away at any moment, and you cursed yourself for being so obvious. Peter Parker had known you since you were two – of course he’d know something was up.

“Seriously, Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, holding back a sigh as you wiped over your progress with a sterile wipe. Thank god for first aid kits. “It’s nothing, honestly.”

“Well it’s something,” Peter countered, still staring at you. When you didn’t offer him anything, he looked mock offended. “C’mon, I’m your best friend – I’ve seen you eat your bogeys. The least you could do to repay me is tell me what’s up.”

“Fine,” you snapped, and it wasn’t just Peter who was surprised at your tone. “You wanna know what’s up? I hate having to stitch you up, I hate having to make sure you’re okay, always petrified every night you’re gonna come crawling back here and this time it won’t just be a few stitches. It terrifies me, the thought you’re out there, getting hurt, and nobody but me knows about it!”

You were breathing hard, balling your hands into fists anxiously. The point of the needle dug into your palm, and you felt a little bead of blood trickle across your palm. But you barely registered the pain, still staring at Peter’s stunned face.

“Well I never asked you to stitch me up…” he said slowly, looking stricken, and you nearly rolled your eyes. Of course he wouldn’t get it.

“That’s not my point, Parker. It’s just one night I might not be able to help you, and I might have to watch my best friend bleed out in my arms. Then what do I tell people? Oh yeah, he just died in my room, totally normal!”

“Woah, Y/n, what the hell’s gotten into you? I thought you knew why I did this?” He was frowning, but his voice was barely a whisper, and your heart hurt at the thought of the daggers you were driving through him right now. But he’d pushed it, you’d been willing to leave it alone, and now the frustration that had been slowly building these past few years was flooding out, and the dam had broken.

“Pete, you’re not getting it! What if it were me, huh? Coming back to you at god knows what hour, cut up every night in some different way. Wouldn’t you be terrified for me? Wondering what was happening? Constantly paranoid you were dead in some alley?”

It wasn’t even about you loving him that way anymore, it was about the fact that you loved him period. The very thought that your best friend was in harms way constantly drove knives through your heart, and some days you could barely function, too worried about where he was to concentrate on your work. That was no way to live, but what was the alternative? Peter didn’t have anyone to stitch him back up? That thought was too horrible to think about.

Realisation slowly seeped into his face, and he drew in a deep breath. You could see his mouth working, trying to form some kind of explanation, but you’d known him too long to be fooled by the pretence. His face crumpled, and he raced towards you, still mostly naked, engulfing you in a massive hug. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, but your arms went around him almost automatically, surprise rocketing through you as you felt him heave against your chest.

“I’m so so sorry,” he mumbled, your t-shirt suddenly getting damp. “I didn’t realise how much I’d put on you.”

“That’s…okay,” you replied, frazzled. You hadn’t expected an apology, and you certainly hadn’t expected this. Not from Peter, not when it was something so…trivial. Something else was up, and it had to be something bad. “Parker, this isn’t you to break down over something like this. What else is going on?”

He shook his head and buried himself further into your neck, the sobs getting louder. Your heart was beating faster, suddenly more afraid at what was lying underneath than this surface issue. Whatever it was, it was dark and dangerous – Peter never cried. Not since his Uncle. Not since Tony.

“Seriously, Pete, you’re scaring me,” you gently pushed him away from your shoulder and looked at him. Really looked at him. There were dark bags under his eyes, his hair was all out of sorts and his cheeks were hollow. Was he eating enough? Now that you thought about it, he was much skinnier than when you’d started college earlier this year, and he felt completely brittle; like something was broken, and he couldn’t fix it.

“There’s nothing you can do, I’m being stupid. ‘m sorry,” he mumbled, wiping his tears roughly. He reached for his suit, clearly determined to leave, but you pried it gently from his trembling hands and grabbed one of his old shirts he’d left here ages ago instead. Once he was no longer in just his boxers, you covered his hands in yours and guided him to the bed.

“It’s not stupid, and you don’t know I can’t do anything. Don’t underestimate me, Parker,” you smirked, trying to draw a laugh out of him. To your relief, a small smile cracked his features, only to be wiped away as soon as he met your gaze.

“It’s not something anyone can fix, I think.”

His sadness broke you, snapped your heart in two like it was just a rotten twig. You almost wanted to cry yourself; your best friend had clearly gotten himself into a state these past few months, and you wanted to kill whoever had caused it.

“Is it the Beck? Is he back?” you hated saying that name, hated the way Peter’s muscles tensed up at just a few syllables. He’d nearly lost everything because of that ma, it was only you, MJ and Ned that had stopped that. It wasn’t fair he’d nearly lost everything because of some vindictive, evil bastard.

“No, not Beck. It’s not anyone like that,” he choked out.

“Okay, so is it MJ? Did she break up with you?” You doubted it, thinking at least one of your friends would have mentioned it, but when his chokes got louder and his body started spasming you knew you’d hit the nail on the head. You tried to hold back your surprise, gathering him deeper into your arms, rocking him slowly back and forth.

“It was two months ago, just before we left for college,” he admitted, and now the tears were starting to dampen your jeans and you were feeling incredibly guilty for yelling at him. “She said I wasn’t emotionally invested in the relationship.”

“What?” you jumped in shock, mentally making a note to remind yourself to call MJ at some point “that’s horse shit!”

Peter didn’t say anything immediately, and the silence was deafening. “Well, she wasn’t wrong,” he murmured at last, and your mind boggled at the thought.

“Pete, you were madly in love with the girl! You’ve liked her for years!”

He slowly sat up, hands lacing with yours. It was a weird gesture, and your eyes snapped down to your fingers, hating the shivers that raced through your arm. “I did like her. But I never loved her, Y/n.”

“But you told her you did,” you said slowly, well aware you were probably not making things any better. But God, why hadn’t he told you? He was supposed to be your best friend, and you knew this was painful for him. You were surprised he hadn’t broken before now. You just wished you could’ve been there for him from the start.

“And that was the problem,” he shook his head, tears slowly drying. “I said I did, but I didn’t.”

“Oh Pete,” you pursed your lips, cupping his cheeks. “Why did you never say anything?”

“Because,” he swallowed, suddenly staring intently at his lap “how do you tell the girl you’re actually in love with that your girlfriend broke up with you so you could be with her?”

You could’ve sworn you’d misheard him, but how could you? He was staring at you, eyes filled with both hope and crushing sadness. You could barely breathe, feeling your chest tighten, not sure what to say next. You’d imagined him saying this for years, but this was not the way you pictured it. You’d never wanted him in tears, practically at breaking point, telling you something he seemed ashamed of. It made you almost wish he hadn’t said it, you didn’t want his feelings for you to be something he thought was dirty.

But then, you realised, this had nothing to do with you.

Peter hadn’t known where he was going for years. You’d always known it, you’d just never wanted to admit it. If you were honest with yourself, you’d seen that it wasn’t right with MJ – he talked about loving her, but he’d never proved it. Never gone out of his way for her more than a friend might have done. Never made it glaringly obvious that she was his one and only. If you had been an outsider looking in, you would’ve guessed he was with you. That was the truth of it, and suddenly you understood why he seemed ashamed of how he felt.

“God, this is a mess,” you covered your face with your hands, barely wanting to look at him. “That wasn’t how I pictured that going.”

“Me neither,” Peter laughed, and you almost giggled yourself. It was a stupid, overwhelming situation, and you just needed some space to breathe.

Finally, you dragged your gaze up to meet his, determined to make him see how you felt. “I’m in love with you, Peter Parker, and this was so not the way I wanted to tell you. But tonight has been so heavy, and all I really want to do is crawl into bed and never get out of it again. It’s 2am, and I’m exhausted, so I don’t know how you’re still standing.”

Peter looked as numb as you felt, his mouth falling open in shock at your words. You knew he was having trouble processing what he’d just heard because he was moving his mouth like a fish again, and this time you did giggle. “No need to look so stunned.”

“Sorry. It’s just…it’s just I built this all up in my head that you’d crush me and tell me there was no way you’d ever think of me like that. And MJ was my escape from that. I figured if I could forget how I felt, then I didn’t ever need to jeopardise us, ruin what we had.”

You nodded, but the tiredness was overwhelming by this point, and the bed behind Peter’s head was looking so tempting. “I think maybe we need to sleep on this. I can’t think straight with everything that’s happened tonight.”

“I think you’re right,” he eyed the bed too, turning to meet your gaze at the same time as you turned to look at him. An unspoken question passed between you, like it had a thousand times before, but this time it was different. This time it was charged with a million different meanings, and although you never said it aloud, there was a nagging feeling in your stomach that nothing would be the same again.

But maybe that was okay, you thought as you climbed into bed, Peter’s soft form curling around yours like you’d always done at your weekly sleepovers as kids. Maybe things changing was for the best, maybe there was nothing to regret about it. You smiled as Peter’s soft snores immediately began echoing throughout the room, and you gently turned to face him.

He had a serene smile on his face that you hadn’t seen in months, and, whatever had caused it, you were pleased it was back. He looked so peaceful like that, so safe and warm. As you turned back to face the wall and snuggled further into him, you couldn’t wait for the morning. Peter had come here to get you to stitch him back together tonight, just like he had every other night you could remember.

Except tonight, there’d been one difference – he’d stitched you back together, too.

Taglist:

@zabdisamor @jinxfanfics @jillanaholland

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker smut #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker angst #tom holland fanfic #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x y/n #marvel fanfiction #marvel

149 notes · View notes

laughingpinecone · 4 years

Text

Yuletide letter

I am laughingpineapple on AO3

Hello dear author! I hope you’ll have fun with our match. Feel free to draw from general or fandom-specific likes, past letters, and/or follow your heart.

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (especially if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic (when in doubt, tell me what’s happening to them five, ten, twenty years in the future!), hurt/comfort, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, tropey plots that are already close enough to characters/canon, outsider POV, UST, resolved UST, exploring the ~deep lore, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played entirely straight, sensory details, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night, emphasis on non-human traits of non-human characters (gen-wise, but also a hearty yes xeno for applicable ships), emphasis on inhuman traits of characters who were human once and have sort of shed it all behind

Cool with: any tense, any pov, any rating, plotty, not plotty, IF, unrequested characters popping up.

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents are okay!), canon retellings, consent issues, actual covid (fantasy plagues are okay)

Les Cités Obscures: any

This is a very general “please, anything in the style of canon, just maybe with less thoughtless sexism” request. I want to lose myself in these cities again, and in the strange lands that connect them. I’d be happy to follow any of the known characters and/or OCs, or eschew characters altogether and write about the cities themselves. What caught your imagination in Brüsel, Xhystos, Taxandria, Alaxis...? The history of some cool building that was only marginally featured in one of the stories? Or an OC city! If you’ve got a favourite European city that doesn’t already have its obscure counterpart, please tell me all about it! Go big, go wild! What strange and classically surrealist happenings take place within its walls? Or even... outside Europe... Nerding out about architecture is of course very welcome. I would also love to read a story based on any Schuiten illustration, contextualizing it as if it were part of this ‘verse. Here’s a bunch of them, for example!

Ghost Trick: Cabanela

You know.. him. Dazzlingly OTT, untiring, rock-solid self-esteem, loyal to a fault, following a rhythm of his own, flawless intuition until it fails and it all burns down… him. I just want to see more of him doing stuff! The way he’s chill and open toward new people (like Sissel and Missile in ch15) makes him perfect to throw at most other characters and see how they react to the sparkles… I’d love some focus on how ridiculous his aesthetic is, half Saturday Night Fever half hardboiled detective half bubbly preteen (for a total of 150%) and yet he makes it work. Or how ruthless he can be, possibly for the sake of the people he cares for. The quote “The intimacy of big parties”. Him and Alma in the new timeline bonding over knowing (once Jowd has spilled the beans) but not remembering that terrible timeline. Some tropey scenario on the job. Snark-offs with Pigeon Man, by which I mean PM snarks and it bounces off him like water off a spotless white goose’s back.

Ship-wise it’s only Cabanela/Jowd whenever it’s not infidelity, Cabanela/Alma in what-ifs also if it’s not infidelity and Cabanela/Alma/Jowd for me (and Lynne/Memry and Yomiel/fianSissel on the side). There are a bunch of shippy prompts in all my past letters - I would however reiterate here that Jowd. is. the worst tease. always. Like, just saying, but assume he’s pining big time and Jowd and Alma figure it out - they’d make a national sport out of excruciatingly protracted teasing.

Conversely, Cabanela/Lynne and Cabanela/Yomiel are NOTPs especially from Cabanela’s side. So while I appreciate the thick tension of a good Yomiel VS Cabanela confrontation like everyone and their cat, and also really appreciate a roughed-up Cabanela, and I do love Yomiel in his own right… I don’t want Cabanela being into it. Adrenaline junkie he may be but this hurts and his coat’s a mess and there’s no perfect winning scenario so he hates every second of it. (JOWD being super into Cabanela being roughed up is another matter altogether and he should probably mind his own business. ...incompatible kinks, truly tragic. they’ll have to find some other common ground. they’re smart, resourceful, playful fellows, I’m sure they’ll manage)

Kentucky Route Zero: Donald kentuckyroutezero

I love everyone in the cast, all acts and interludes, and I am extremely into all the themes this incredible work of art ended up exploring. Agreeing with the overall doom and gloom up to Act IV, I was blown away by Act V’s strong affirmation of the importance of the arts and of the bonds we make and of carving up spaces for ourselves in capitalism’s wake. Donald was, indeed, not a part of any of that. Even the final interlude updates us on Lula and mentions Joseph, but the big guy is nowhere to be seen. So, you know, there’s fanfiction! He’s so static, defeated. I am fascinated by the chain of metaphysical spaces that goes surface -> Zero -> Echo -> Dogwood and even within that framework, the hall of the mountain king is like a hopeless dead end. Dude’s terminally stuck. So - once again, in the spirit of transformative works, how could he get... you know... unstuck? Did Lula’s momentous appearance in Act III shake him? Having a functioning Xanadu again, perhaps? How could he interrogate that oracle, what recursive wonders would it show him? If he decides to leave, what does it feel to be on the surface again after so long, or on the river perhaps? Maybe he is forced to leave by the flood, if not this one, the next... Having him meet any other character would be amazing. Past or future time spent with Weaver... seeing Conway again, changed... programmer guy chatting up musician androids... did he know Carrington from his college days or was Carrington only a friend of Lula’s?

As for Lula herself and Joseph too: “Flipping through the pages, Conway is able to gather that it’s a story about three characters: Joseph, Donald, and Lula. It’s something like a tragic love triangle, but much more complex. Some kind of tangled, painfully concave love polygon.” 😔 I ship them as a full triad, if you can nudge them in that direction, good. But I’m very open to non-romantic resolutions as well, going past their messy feelings to find each other as friends after so many years maybe. Or... a start. idk.

I’d be interested in fic that leans on the game’s adjacent genres: wanna go full-on American Gothic? Dip into surrealism? Take a leaf from Twin Peaks with tulpa / split narratives to explore the characters’ issues? I’m also open to AUs, real or through Xanadu. This also feels like a good place to stress that I really, really like caves.

And now for something completely different: FAQ: The “Snake Fight” Portion of Your Thesis Defense is in the tagset this year. I’d say that the crossover with the snake portion of Here and there along the Echo writes itself, but it would not be correct, as in fact I would like you to write it for me. Feel free to not feature Donald if you focus on this crossover instead!

Uru would be a fun crossover too, for Donald specifically. He’s very DRC-shaped in how he tilts at doomed projects which just so happen to be deep underground.

Pyre: Volfred Sandalwood

This is a Volfred solo, Volfred&literally anyone or Volfred/Tariq, /Oralech or /Tariq/Oralech request. I adore everyone in that Blackwagon+Dalbert+Celeste, so if you want to add a Nightwing or two to any prompt, please do! I also love all the Scribes and find Erisa a compelling tragic figure, while out of the other triumvirates, I’m “love to hate them” for Manley, Brighton, Udmildhe and Deluge and would not like to see them featured in sympathetic roles. fwiw I also enjoy Jodi/Celeste and Bertrude/Pamitha a lot!

I feel deeply for all of Pyre’s main themes - literacy, degrees of freedom, the fragile time that is the end of a historical cycle, nobodies rising up to the occasion, building a better society, and of course found family, “distance cannot separate our spirits” and all that jazz, and Volfred is squarely rooted at the center of all of them. I really really love everything he stands for, even if he’s overbearingly smug in standing for it. Just please tell me things about my fave. His relationship to the Scribes (as a historian, a some kind of vision, via *ae or once he’s a star himself)? A ‘forced vacay’ Downside ending where he looks at the Union from afar and keeps living in this strange transformational place? Life in a cramped Blackwagon that was meant for like 5 people tops and is currently eight Nightwings, a herald and an orb? Since he picked him for the job to begin with, does he respect and cherish Hedwyn as he dang well should? What does it feel like to try and Read a herald? Was he ever in danger, in the Commonwealth or in the Downside? What daring act of resistance did he and Bertrude pull off at some point in their past? It’d be cool if one of his old pamphlets came up at some point. Does he puff up as prime minister because he’s nervous, and who can see past his hyper-professionalism and lend a hand? Please roast him big time about the votes he assigns to the various Nightwings in his planner? What’s his attitude toward the flame’s purification (what with being a tree but mostly like, as a general concept. He did nothing wrong!) (well he definitely said some things wrong and sometimes oftentimes the ego jumps out, but his intentions did nothing wrong)? When did his calculating approach fail him? Something with Pamitha along the lines of that edit that goes “Can we talk, one ten to another?“/"I am an eleven, my girl, but continue”? Dude could easily be voted sexiest voice in the Downside - how much is he aware of it? Does he sing? I love how he bears his ‘reader’ brand proudly. And speaking of scars, I have to wonder, looking at Manley for comparison, if the shape of his head, with that massive crack, isn’t also due to injuries.

As a refrain from my general likes: emphatically yes xeno to both shippy interactions at all ratings and to gen explorations of what a Sap is like… I’d love to read all your headcanons.

Ship-wise, I enjoy him with Tariq as this kind of esoteric connection of minds, guarded words full of secret meanings, long contemplative walks together (is any external pov watching...?), Volfred’s Reader powers brushing against Tariq’s mind and getting weak in the knees at the starlit expanse he finds there, so unlike mortal thoughts. Tariq finds his individuality learning from him; Volfred presumably gets a transcendent glimpse of the Scribes. And I enjoy him with Oralech as pretty much the opposite of that, Oralech is so very mortal compared to him, such a precious, fleeting, burning life especially after his fall. Oralech’s idealism is very dear to me, it was their plan, their shared revolutionary spirit, I find it deeply moving. And I am very interested in seeing them rebuild their connection now that Oralech is back, changed, and in some ways he can learn to let go of his misconceptions and slowly open himself to Volfred’s love again, but in other ways that’s who he is now, with this deep-set anger, and what does it even feel to realize that you’re the symbol of the end of an era (the end of the Rites, the fading of the Scribes). I’m interested in both topside and downside endings for all of them, as long as they end up on the same side, the revolution was peaceful and they don’t angst too much about the side they ended in. Tariq can ‘find his way home’ in the near post-canon somehow or even be summoned again, as a different aspect of the same ‘moonlit vision’ that once inspired Soliam Murr.

Strandbeest: any

https://www.strandbeest.com/

I would just like words to go with these, please and thank you so very much. Worldbuild to your heart’s content! Specifically: I’m fascinated by the premise that the strandbeest are living creatures that evolve and adapt to their ecosystem. A world where life is just wind stomachs and sandy joints, and the tide that can catch you unaware. I would like a story that feels distinctly inorganic. The wonder that is the existence of these creatures. Their unique struggles. Weird and experimental if you like. With a mechanical focus, maybe?

I nominated four critters as a selection of the different cool things they can do - Percipiere Excelsus is huge and has the hammer mechanism, Suspendisse’s tail senses the hardness of the sand, Uminami is my fave caterpillar and the caterpillars overall feel like a new paradigm after a mass extinction event, Ader straight-up flies... but they’re all wonderful. If you want to focus on different strandbeest, please do!

Twin Peaks: Lucy Moran

Case fic but they don’t find out jack shit, someone disappears, David Bowie was there, it’s complicated. Fragmented, shifted, mirrored identities. New Lodge spaces. The risks of staring into the void for too long. Gentle illusions. Transcendence. The moon. Static buzzing. Any title from the s3 ethereal whooshing compilation used as a prompt, actually. Whatever goes on on Blue Pine mountain or the even more mysterious things that go on on White Tail mountain where exactly zero canon locations are found. Twin Peaks is all about the mystery to me, the awe of mystery and unknowability and the human drive to look beyond and the risks of getting a peek, and about shared consciousness and trauma taking physical form in an uncaring world. Go wild with the ethereal whooshing! But I also love the human warmth at the heart of it all, and sometimes it’s enough to anchor these characters and let them have a nice day. A fic entirely focused on some instance of coziness against the cold chaotic background of canon would be great too.

For Lucy specifically, a big draw for me is how canon (...s2 need not apply) empathizes with her way of processing the world. Not just Peaks, but On the Air’s protag who is basically a Lucy expy also gets the narrative completely on her side and that’s great. And I love how in s3, her focus on the small things around her is always echoed by bigger, climactic events beyond her horizon (bunnies / Jack Rabbit’s palace, chair order / Garland’s chair, her first scene talking about the two sheriffs / doubles everywhere...). It feels to me like some kind of off-kilter mindfulness and I love it. She’s also got a loving husband and an amazing son, which, in this economy and also this canon? Damn. The one functional family, imagine that. I am not interested in focus on family dynamics, but singularly, either Lucy/Andy or Lucy&Wally are great - in particular, I’m interested in how strange they are and yet they make it work. With the ruthless critique of traditional family structure that’s all over canon, maybe they make it work specifically because they’re not doing any of that. A bit like the Addams family... but... not goth...? Anyway. I’d love to see Lucy interact with and maybe strike a friendship with any character she’s never shared a scene with in canon! In the tagset, there’s Diane for some secretaries bonding, Audrey because??? why not?, Albert because it’d be an epic enemies to friends slowburn, some version of Laura in the future, if we’re feeling really daring maybe even some version of Coop in the future, still fragmented... or anyone you want! Outside the tagset I’d be curious about Hawk, Margaret and maybe Doris in particular, I think, and Phil, and Nadine and the Invitation to Love fandom in general (Frost says it still airs - did it get as weird as TP s3 did?), but if you have an idea with someone else, absolutely go for it!

Canon-specific DNWs: any singular Dreamer being the ‘source’ of canon, BOB (let alone Judy) being forever defeated in the finale, Judy being an active malevolent presence in the characters’ lives, clear explanations for canonical ambiguities, ‘Odessaverse’ being the reality layer, the Fireman’s House by the Sea being the White Lodge, whatever Twin Perfect’s on about, Cooper/Audrey, Cooper/Laura

#letter

2 notes · View notes

theshortwavemystery · 4 years

Text

NOTES FROM WATCHING THE FIRST EPISODE OF “RIVERDALE”

1. Riverdale is a bizarre town that seems cut off from everywhere else, temporally straddled between an eternal 1950’s—more accurately a 1950’s stuck in an endless repetitive loop. But it takes place in the late 2010’s. Even so, the decor in the town is vintage, and the characters recognize this. The activities of the kids are vintage. the internet and cell phones exists, millennials are named, but it doesn’t seem to matter. something is very weird here, as if all these people are ghosts. all the stock scenarios and characters are here, which is to be expected for a teen drama, but there’s an exactness, a literalism, that is too perfect to be unintentional. 2. what is this world? it seems to be a staging of a certain inertia in american culture, which changes in superficial ways—technology, new TV shows, music new taboos—but all if this somehow serves to reinforce, or justify a return to the “leave it to beaver” universe. 3. any reminder that these are modern kids—their frequent references to contemporary TV shows like Mad Men for instance—only serve to increase the spooky vibe. everyone in this town seems to be low key crazy, making the show feel like twin peaks but written by what’s left of your local shopping mall. 4. the show’s script is constantly making fun of itself to the point that we seem directed by it to avoid taking the drama seriously—it is perhaps a smoke screen, like the haze of the presumably northwestern woods that seem to surround the town (it is filmed in Vancouver). the gay best friend is named as the gay best friend, establishing him as a living archaism—i felt bad for him after this. 5. plot points are shown to be cliche—the fake lesbian kiss, once scandalous in the 2000’s, is brushed off as false and an erasure of real lesbians. the script fools us, indicating it means to aim for more intelligent territory. and yet, veronica’s confrontation with cheryl, her tough girl speech, where she reveals her vulnerability as a rich girl fallen from grace but also stands up for betty—this goes without an ironic comment, even thought it is also a cliche, but a more contemporary oneq—the “mic drop” moment. so we see how the naming of particular cliches, employed ironically, serves to hide others the show is earnestly employing. 6. veronica says she needs to be redeemed for her father’s crimes, how is that fair. 7. archie’s desire to make music seems like a stand-in for a recognition that he’s gay. they cover this up by making his character straight but i don’t buy it. because his music itself clearly doesn’t matter. this is similar to the dead poets society where the kid kills himself obviously because he’s gay and he’s afraid his dad will disown him. why? nobody kills themselves merely because their dad shames them for doing theater. the reason is simple: theater is already such a humiliating and abject thing to love that you have to be totally shameless to even start doing it. once you become a theater kid your dad has lost you. in the second episode, the gay friend of betty reveals that he agrees with me here. 8. archie is the decentered center of the show, not a particularly interesting character so much as a holding container for female desire/fantasy. he’s dumb, cute boy who’s kind of artistic and kind of jockish, but the complex psychology belongs to betty, veronica, cheryl so far—all plotting, calculating characters, whereas archie just wants to enjoy himself and be liked—and to be fair, these shallow needs get him in plenty of trouble, but they’re simple needs. but this is always what archie was, even as a comic book character. he’s kicked around like a football like a more jocular charlie brown. 9. archie’s problem is identiied as the problem of "all millenial men", who need to be told what they want—but this is really everyone’s problem. what makes the girls/women different is that they don’t care that they don’t know what they want—they just act on feelings, and try to make the world match up with the feelings. archie thinks he ought to know what he wants, and then do it. but the women, whose desires as women are not even encouraged from day one, are free from this tedious problem. this is why archie is the one who has to be the moral authority regarding his mutual witness to the murder with the hot teacher, while the hot teacher is only afraid people will find out she fucked a student. veronica brushes off archie’s identity crisis as a false dilemma, critiqueing the categories of “jock” and “artist” and insisting he can be both, and anyway who gives a fuck? but this whimsy and indifference toward boundaries can get devious with veronica, who is betty’s friend one second and hooking up with archie the next. 10. although women are still often denied full subjectivity in literature, in real life it’s always been the opposite—men tend to forego personality development in favor of power or the illusion of power, and end up more shallow, rigid and fragile, more prone to the whims of their entourage. they never really have to become anything in particular--masculinity functions like a hive mind. if male relationships superficially appear to have less friction, it is only because men are brutally conformist and end up with little personal to argue about, usually coalescing around some common interest and not prone to discussing their respective inner lives--except, occasionally to defensively deny their existence. so-called "sensitive" men only do this in more devious ways--it's obvious that jughead is the most devious character we've met so far. women, in contrast, are each a hive mind unto themselves, compelled to construct an array of selves, carefully deploying them to get by in a world structured by the male gaze and booby-trapped by the machinations of other women. this complexity is of course terrifying to men who either submit to it as a fetish or suppress it— and one way of accomplishing that suppression in literature is to create stories where the men are supposedly complex and the women supposedly shallow and dependent wholly on men--the typical gaslight job of the mediocre male writer. this is clearly a show that, whatever its other blindnesses, is not going to let that happen. 11. we are told through veronica that archie is more dangerous than he looks. why doesn’t the show want us to figure this out ourselves? this feels ironic on the writers' parts, another winking use of cliche. 12. everyone’s problem is a cliche—archie’s father pressures him to do sports to get into college, he wants to do something else. betty’s mom is controlling and betty is a people pleaser who already in the first episode explodes about how perfect she has to be all the time and can’t she just do something for herself for once? 13. the music is annoying and cloying but it also grounds the contemporary nature of the show, because of its peculiar sense of melodrama, which is endemic to this time period, and the neoliberal overvaluing of the self. 14. the video on this show seems filtered into oblivion, or photoshopped or otherwise conspicuously treated. just like the self-awareness of the script, it contributes to the sense of unreality. 15. more self-aware cliches: archie and betty grew up next door to each other—they’re stuck in a feedback loop of being the ____ next door. cheryl describes herself as the queen on stage at the dance. 16. classic literature is referenced oddly—betty loves toni morrison, even though by the end of the episode, we have been introduced to zero black main characters. is this self-aware critique of white fetishization of blackness? and there's also thornton wilder’s “our town”… veronica suggests that the high school is part of the lost epilogue from “our town”—wilder also presented a transparently fake and timeless town to stage his existentialist story in, one in which horrifyingly, dead people remain in a liminal space between death and life, vainly trying to communicate with the living they can still see. 17. every celebrity/media reference is bizarre. a thin veneer draped over an unchanging reality. "Riverdale" seems not so much about the dark underbelly of suburbia, but about the idea of suburbia is the dark underbelly itself. a murder has to happen because someone has to bring death here, lest everyone become paralyzed by their immortality. 18. archie’s “making a deal” with the hot teacher is way more erotic than anything he’ll do with b or v… why is this happening at the Dance lol, unless we are to read it this way? they have shared the most precious thing in this town, death... why does archie love the teacher and toy with his peers? because they can't give him death. clearly archie is blackmailing the hot teacher into continuing the relationship, but he does so seemingly unaware of his own motives. he lives in the age of youtube tutorials, he doesn't need music instruction. and here is another paradox of the modern gender binary--men think they don't know what they want, but unconsciously they know what they want--they receive their instructions from the Borg Queen of masculinity and pursue it ruthlessly, whereas women end up thinking they know exactly what they want, but unconsciously they don't, because it's fractured amongst their afformentioned hive of selves. This is why both traditonally-socialized genders are completely right in saying the other is full of shit. 19. “we have no past” goes the song josie sings—and maybe this is america’s problem—the past is empty, the past of ordinary suburbia, interrupted only occasionally by wars perhaps but untouched by cultural progress—and because we have no past we can have no present, only an empty recycling of the same void, the same problems, the same catharses—new episodes of the same show. we live forever at the cost of never changing. is riverdale a socially critical prestige drama LARPing in the ironic costume of a CW teen soap??? 20. all the characters are trapped in a carnival haunted house ride. the theme: adolescence. 21. cheryl’s party—brett kavanaugh could have been at this party 22. jughead is the narrator, and i like the idea that this is all in jughead’s head, which is why it’s so unstuck in time aesthetically, so stylized and knowing. and it's no wonder he's the most popular character, because he represents the writers themselves, and fandom is to have an illusion of a privileged relationship not so much with the characters, but with the property's creators--and to be hyperinvested and, if necessary, hypercritical of their choices. 23. the gay hookup is interrupted by the presence of a corpse—a classic trope in teen horror but it’s interesting to see it with a gay pair. it’s as if in the clash between the perpetual 1950’s aura and the contemporary references and morality, a gruesome surplus appears, the specter of homophobia. which, incidentally is a corpse of a man guilty of a sexual act that is still considered taboo—incest. a corpse symbolizes the death of innocence for a hetero couple, but for a queer couple it can’t just be that—it also must evoke the threat of actual murder. which makes this a very different moment. 24. jughead says riverdale has changed—but it has only been revealed to be what it always was—"full of shadows and secrets", as jughead puts it. he must be putting us on—this place is way creepier than Sunnydale, and that place had actual demons… but this is often what a change amounts to—not the addition of a new trait, but the acceptance of one that was already there. 25. jason blossom is a ginger like archie and he therefore seems tied to archie in a unique way. he dies on july 4th, given some fuel to my reading as a show with something to say about america’s self-image. 26. all the parents are single parents or in strained, unhappy marriages in this town. this us realistic, but that should tip us off: what in the show has been realistic so far? debuting in january 2017, "Riverdale" seems retrospectively shaped by the trump era-a teen drama not about the undead, as buffy was, but a teen drama which is itself undead, fitting for a president who also wished to raise the dead, and also what had never lived. riverdale’s preservation of the old “great” america is superficial—indoors, a very contemporary isolation and alienation reign, in contrast even to the desperation of actual 50’s suburbia. 27. is everyone dead already in this show? is riverdale purgatory? is that what explains its being unstuck in time and drenched in fog? but i’ve been to small towns in the northwest that look like riverdale—nothing has been updated since 1954. in order to seem fake, riverdale has to be even faker that real life, even more uncanny—and that’s a tall order.

#riverdale

8 notes · View notes

bringmemyanxietea · 4 years

Text

The Disappearance of Logan Sanders

WARNINGS: Major character death, anxiety attacks, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, mentions of cancer, graphic depictions of death and gore, a little bit of homophobic/transphobic bullying, child abuse, sympathetic Deceit (this is dark yall, please be safe and don’t read if this could potentially trigger you)

Word Count: ~8615

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Roman, Patton, Deceit, Emile (minor), Remy (minor)

Relationships: Platonic all around except for established Remile

Summary: They were once the best of friends until they weren’t. But soon they’ll have to reconcile to find their missing piece.

~~~~~~~~~~

It had all begun long before any of them knew, really. A friendship stemming from their births being all within the same day, all in the same town. Yet none of them would really come to believe such a thing as fate could predict their friendship.

“You’re an idiot.” Logan deadpanned, staring at his painfully idiotic friend who was currently hacking and coughing from choking on a marshmallow, which he had attempted breathe instead of eat. On purpose of course, because that was just who Roman was.

“Aw, come on Lolo, he was just trying to be creative!” And then there was Patton who was about as smart as Logan, only not. His emotions typically overrode his intelligence.

Sighing, the bespectacled kid turned his gaze away from his two friends, instead, focusing on a group of birds that had been chirping particularly loud. “Remind me again why we decided to make our ‘secret hideout’ here in the middle of the woods where several pests live?”

Logan watched as Patton pouted at his reference to animals being pests. Really who could blame him though? Apparently, Patton, that’s who.

They were just a group of kids who found solace in each other.

Then, towards the end of sixth grade, Virgil Night had moved to their small town and wormed his way into their lives.

The poor boy had just appeared one day, and nobody knew anything about him. It didn’t take long for rumours to start and spread like wildfire.

“I heard he’s actually a changeling and was sent to replace a human child!”

“No, he’s a demon sent to find the sinners and drag them to hell.”

“Are we talking about the new kid? Mommy says he was abandoned because he's full of bad blood…”

Of course, Patton was completely averse to rumours and had instead marched right up to the shy kid and introduced himself. After that it had been set in stone that Virgil was now one of them. They had his back and he had theirs.

That was the way it had always been. Through their many years of friendships, they always had each other’s backs, and they knew it.

Because when Patton had decided that he was more than just a boy, and sometimes not a boy at all, they were all there when his blood wasn’t. They were there to support who he was whenever. Whether Patton was he, she, or they. They were there when no-one, not even Patton, was.

Because when Roman had come to them saying he was gay, they didn’t shame him or treat him differently. And when their friend later came out again as aromantic, they still supported him. Because no matter who he loves or how he loved, Roman was theirs to love and care for.

Because when Logan had decided to trust them with his neurological disorder and picky habits, they did not turn him away or shut him down. They changed, yes, but only in a way that best supported Logan’s needs. Logan was still himself, and knowing this side of him would not change that.

Because when Virgil’s adoptive parents were over-bearing or less than accommodating, they were there to hold him as he cried. They learned how to care for their anxious friend, and despite never knowing his past, they still loved and trusted him to be a part of their small family.

They were all freaks and their family was small and broken, but it was good. And in that moment, that was all they needed.

They only needed each other, and so they were always there for each other.

…

Until they weren’t.

~*~

“What is wrong with you? You could have been killed!” Logan screeched from where he was pacing back and forth, his hands flapping in an attempt to soothe himself. Normally he would try to get control over his stimming, but he was far too worked up to care about what others may think about his behaviours.

Roman scoffed, watching as Virgil carefully applied bandages to the wounded areas on his body. “And you say I’m overdramatic!” He muttered, rolling his eyes at the offended noise Logan had attempted to choke back.

Thinking back, maybe it hadn’t been the best decision to climb an old tree that was already dead and waiting for a reason to crumble and snap, but Logan didn’t have to freak out about it. He was acting like his parents, as if he could tell him what to do and not to do.

Besides, he was celebrating his freedom. They had all officially graduated from high school meaning they were free from the clutches of education! Well, except for college and Logan who was a never ending pool of knowledge.

“Were you trying to prove something, Roman? Are you really that careless about yourself? Or do you want to die?” Roman heard Virgil’s breath hitch at that sentence and frowned. They all knew that was a sensitive subject for Virgil. “Is that it? Do you want to kill yourself? Is that why you do all these idiotic and-”

“Just shut up Logan, your voice is annoying!” As soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted it. The air around them had gone stagnant, leaving a foul taste in the back of his mouth.

“What?”

Roman knew he should have just shut up right then, but he was just itching or a fight. His parents hadn’t left him alone about being productive with his life and Logan’s rant had left him restless.

“I said, your voice is annoying!” He screamed, pushing himself up to stand with his chin held high. “Besides, at least I take risks.” He snarked, staring at Logan challengingly

“I fail to see how that makes you any more superior to me, if anything it just shows how much intelligence you lack,” Logan replied, his voice calm even as his brows furrowed.

Had it been any other day, Roman would have brushed it off as Logan being Logan, but he was so sick of people undermining him just because he wasn’t some prodigy or straight-A student. “It makes me superior because at least I don’t have to have exact matching socks to function like a human being.” He smirked, watching as Logan bristled at his comment.

It was then that Patton had made an attempt to calm the situation down before it escalated beyond snarks and rude banter. Yet any attempts he had made were foiled by either Logan or Roman who failed to heed their friend’s warnings.

That last comment had quite literally left Logan speechless and struggling to find words. Whether that was because he was merely struggling with his disorder or because Roman had actually outwitted him for once, he didn’t know. But he could now say he had rendered the oh so amazing Logan, speechless.

Roman had just begun to turn around, his face smug in his success, when Logan had finally gotten his words to form. “At least I’m not some broken, heartless creature who can’t love. Like a tin man with no heart. A simple being with a simple brain.”

The air had suddenly become much more tense and charged with emotion as Roman went stock still, his back facing his friends as his fists clenched at his sides. A humourless chuckle slipped past his lips as he ducked his head slightly.

“Roman I…” Logan had begun.

“Save it. You know what you said and you meant it.” He suddenly whirled around, his face flushed with anger and a fire in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fucking broken, but so are you asshole!” He yelled, storming up to Logan prepared to throw punches.

“You are so fucking broken Logan. More so than me, the guy who can’t love. You are more broken than Patton who can’t fucking decide who he is! And you are even more broken than Virgil who was thrown out by his own parents and is still thought to be sent from hell!” His voice echoed around them, causing all three of his friends to flinch.

Virgil and Patton held each other’s hands while the entire ordeal went down, both feeling just as broken as Roman claimed them to be. Yes, they’d claimed that they were all freaks, but not once had it been used against them in such a way. Not by those that truly mattered anyways…

“Because you know what, Mr. I’m so perfect and smart? You can’t even function on a good day! You are just one giant fuck up that can’t begin to understand that you shouldn’t even exist!”

The two friends stared at each other, one breathing heavily from the pent up anger he’d just released, while the other merely stared blankly through his friend.

Virgil and Patton watched with bated breath, waiting for Logan to lash back, or maybe throw a punch. They were waiting for something to happen, anything that would break the tense air around them.

It had seemed like forever before Logan had snapped out of his daze like state and turned around to stalk away from the group of friends. ”That’s right, run away you coward! Fuck you and your friendship! I don’t need you!” Roman shouted at Logan’s retreating form, before snapping around to face the two trembling boys who had watched the whole scene unfold in horror.

“I don’t need any of you.” He snarled before running back towards the town, the opposite way Logan had left, leaving the two men and a broken friendship behind, crushed beneath his harsh and heavy words

~*~

After the incident, Logan and Roman refused to interact with each other, or anything relating to the other man. Thus, by extension, they refused to interact with either Virgil or Patton.

Within a day, a lifetime’s worth of trust and friendship had been shattered to pieces and thrown in their faces, like some sort of sick joke. It had left them all scarred and wounded. Yet Virgil and Patton had refused to allow their bond to break.

Or so they’d thought.

Truthfully, neither Patton nor Virgil had been anywhere close to okay after the incident. The wounds were too fresh and deep to be healed by a few hugs and calming words, yet they had tried. They had tried to smile through the pain and pretend like nothing was wrong. Like they weren’t missing half of what made them whole.

They had tried so hard to make two people enough.

Eventually, though, enough had been enough.

A couple weeks after the entire ordeal, Patton had burst into Virgil’s room in tears, crying and apologizing profusely. At the time, Virgil had been confused as to why his best friend was crying crocodile tears and apologizing to him. But soon it had made sense as Patton said goodbye to him, leaving him behind just like Roman and Logan had.

It was at that point that Virgil realized: their four had become one. He was alone again, just like when he’d first moved to the small town.

His eyes scanned the room full of painful memories that had once brought him so much joy, landing on a picture of the four of them fresh out of school, celebrating their newfound freedom with each other. Then, with a scream of anguish, he snatched up the picture frame and chucked it at the closest wall before sinking to his knees. Hot, fresh tears spilled down his cheeks as he openly sobbed on the floor of his room.

~*~

Months passed, and within that time, Virgil had packed his things and left that cursed town behind in an attempt to forget the painful memories that had occurred within it. He still remembered the day he left.

Screaming and yelling, broken glass, and tears.

After Patton had decided to leave him too, he’d packed everything that meant nothing to him and left, leaving the memories and pieces of his life behind to rot. He didn’t need the reminders of what he’d lost.

Unfortunately for him, he’d forgotten just how capable the past was of catching him.

It had been a completely normal day when he’d gotten the phone call.

“Hello?”

“Virgil Night?”

His brows furrowed as he glanced at his phone which was tucked between his shoulder and cheek as he struggled to focus on either of his tasks. “Who wants to know?”

A chuckle sounded from his phone, “My apologies, my name is Ethan Lyre. I’m Logan’s cousin.”

Virgil froze in his movements, his face going white as a sheet at the second name. He quickly dropped his writing utensil, grabbing the phone with his hand as he snarled, “Leave me alone!”

He was about to hang up when the other man screamed out, “Wait! Please! I know you guys had a falling out, but please just hear me out…” He stared at his phone, debating the pros and cons of hanging up then and there.

Damn his curiosity. “Fine,” he gritted out.

He could hear a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’m really sorry about calling you but my cousin wasn’t exactly the best at making friends, and you were the only one I could find info on.” Virgil rolled his eyes because that was one way to put it.

“Look, I’ll just get to the point. Logan’s missing.”

“Oh really? Did you-” He was cut off by a growl before the other man yelled at him to shut up, an order which he obeyed.

“I haven’t seen him in months! He just left the house one day, no bag or anything and never showed back up. I’ve called the police and everything, but they think he ran away.”

Virgil stayed silent.

“I just, I know my cousin. He needs order in his life. He wouldn’t have left everything behind if he had run away. That’s not how he works. He’s smart, and he left all of his money and everything at home.” The other man continued, his voice becoming thick with emotion as he talked.

“What do you want me to do about it?” He asked, receiving a hoarse chuckle in response.

“Wow, I knew you guys had fought, but maybe he was right to-”

This time it had been Virgil to cut Ethan off, “Shut up asshole. You have no idea what happened between us!” He exhaled, leaning back in his chair as he clenched his eyes shut. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to help.”

“Would it be possible for you to come down here? I’m hoping that maybe you’d have an idea on where he disappeared to. Or at least find something that shows he didn’t just run away. I miss my cousin Virgil, I just want him back safe.” Ethan said, and Virgil could hear the desperation in his voice.

His mind took a moment to process all the information that had been shoved onto him. He didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t want to face all the painful memories and emotions he’d tried to bury.

“I’ll see you soon.” With that he hung up, not giving the other man a chance to speak again.

Looks like it was time to face the music.

That night, he’d quickly packed a couple bags of necessities such as clothes, a couple chargers, some toiletries, and money. He’d also spent a fair amount of time searching for his old friends. Patton was the hardest to find as he’d almost completely disappeared off the map, while Roman had been easy, having already begun making a name for himself in the entertainment industry.

Taking a glance at his phone, he realized it was getting late. Tomorrow. The journey would begin tomorrow. For now, he needed to rest in preparation for the onslaught of emotions he was bound to face.

~*~

Patton had made a small home in her one-bedroom apartment in Illinois after she’d left her hometown. She’d found a full-time job as a cashier at one of the retail stores in the area, and while it wasn’t the job she’d wanted, it paid the bills, so she couldn’t really complain.

What she hadn’t expected was for a certain person from her past to show up at her job in the middle of her shift.

She had glanced at the items she was scanning, taking note that it was mostly junk food and energy drinks. “Is that all for you today?” She queried as she typed a code into her computer.

“Actually, I was hoping I could borrow a moment of your time.” She froze, the timbre voice awakening unwanted memories within her. Her blue eyes slowly rose to meet a pair of onyx ones. “Hi Pat, long time no see.” The small quirk of his lips wasn’t a happy one, rather a dry, humourless smile that left Patton on the verge of tears.

“I, uh, my break starts in about 15 minutes, if you want to, you know…” She gulped, trying not to burst into tears right then and there.

“Yeah... Here,” he handed over the money for his groceries before grabbing the bags, not even bothering to wait for his change.

Patton watched as her old friend stalked away from her, not even stopping to look back. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Virgil felt when Patton had turned her back on him.

She heard someone clear their throat and snapped back to reality, apologizing before finishing up the transaction and carrying on in with her normal routine, now troubled by thoughts of her past.

It had ended up being closer to 20 minutes before she’d actually been able to go on break. When she’d walked outside, her eyes had immediately snapped to the dark clothed man sitting on the curb. With only the slightest bit of hesitation, she’d walked over and sat beside him.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching as cars passed by.

“I missed you.” She said, her voice only trembling slightly.

She could hear Virgil’s breath hitch and saw him curl into himself from the corner of her eye. “You’re the one that walked out.” His voice was filled with malice as he spoke.

Patton smiled wryly, “I know.”

And just like that, they had been launched back into a comfortable silence, both of them finding comfort in it. They didn’t need words to understand where the other was coming from. However, Patton knew there was probably more to Virgil’s visit than just catching up like old friends.

Apparently Virgil also knew that the conversation was inevitable.“Logan’s missing.” Patton glanced over at him, confused. “Ethan contacted me yesterday, said Logan just vanished one day, didn’t even bother to take anything with him beside a cellphone.” He sighed, resting his head on his knees.

“The police seem to think he ran away, but I’ve gotta agree with his cousin. That just doesn’t seem like Logan.”

Patton pursed her lips in thought before speaking, “Well then, maybe we didn’t know him that well…”

“Don’t give me that shit, Patton. Not right now.”

She sighed but nodded her assent.

“I’m on my way back there. Figured I’d see if I could contribute to the search. It’s stupid, but I can’t seem to bring myself to hate him for what happened. I can’t hate any of you.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she watched her old friend’s walls crumble. “I'm so sorry Virgil.”

Virgil shook his head, a laugh slipping past his lips. “You don't need to apologize Pat. I forgave you long ago. Actually, I don’t think I ever blamed you. It was bound to happen, it was just a matter of who broke first.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right…”

They once again fell into silence until Patton’s alarm went off, signifying that her break was over. “I’ve got to get back to work, but would you mind if I came with you?” She asked, her words quiet and hesitant.

“Sure Pat, I’m leaving tomorrow morning. Just meet me here at 6 if you still want to come.”

Patton nodded, staring at Virgil sadly for a moment before making her way back inside the store to finish up her day and let her manager know she was taking a few weeks off. That conversation hadn’t gone well and ended with Patton telling her that she could give her the days off or she could fire her. Honestly, she didn’t really care.

Sometimes there were more important things to take care of.

~*~

Virgil had shown up at the store parking lot thirty minutes earlier than he’d planned, but who could blame him. His entire life had been on a fucking rollercoaster into hell and he was just trying to make the best of the horrible experience.

His eyes scanned the mostly empty parking lot. The sky was still dark, the sun not yet willing to announce its presence. The street lamps cast an orange glow around the town, giving Virgil a sense of foreboding.

He didn’t like it.

He leaned against his car humming under his breath as he waited for Patton to show up.

He had gotten through three songs in his head before he saw a figure walking in the distance. His form tensed, ready to engage in his fight or flight reflexes if it came down to it. His eyes were glued to the figure, waiting for any sign of a threat. However, his body soon relaxed as the person came close enough for him to recognize the features of the person who was once his best friend.

“Jeez Pat, for a second there, I thought you were some sort of creep or psychopath.” He chuckled under his breath as the other smiled sheepishly. “Did you walk the whole way here?” Patton nodded causing him to sigh. He glances at the other’s outfit, taking note of the pronoun bracelet on his left wrist that displayed “HE/HIM <3” proudly.

“I don’t really have the money to afford a car…” He admitted, embarrassed by his lack of financial wealth, especially since it seemed like Virgil was doing great in that department.

“Well, I guess that means you’re riding with me then, huh?”

“I hope you don’t mind, kiddo. I honestly forgot to even mention it, what with the whole sudden reunion and everything. If you really don’t want to be stuck in a car with me though, I understand. I can just catch a bus or something! It’s really not-” He was cut off as Virgil raised his hand.

“It’s fine Patton, just let me clear out the passenger set. And leave self-deprecation to me, it doesn’t suit you.” He said, moving to the other side of the car to begin shuffling things around, trying to avoid looking at the pouting man beside him.

“There you go, I’ll go ahead and put your bag in the trunk unless there’s something you need in there?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine! Just a few outfits and whatnot.” He nodded, grabbing the handle of the suitcase before loading into the trunk, on top of his own luggage. He slammed the door shut before shuffling towards the driver’s side and sliding into his seat.

“Ready to go?” He asked, glancing at Patton who nodded. “Great. I’ve got one last place to stop by before we can meet up with Ethan.” He started the car, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” It was time to go visit one Roman Prince.

~*~

“Patton, wake up.” The strawberry blonde groaned in response.

“Nooo, ‘m tired!” He whined, his words slurred from sleep.

“Come on Pat, we’re here and I wouldn’t feel right leaving you in the car while you’re sleeping.”

Virgil watched as the other man finally cracked his eyes open enough to see him. “Oh, hi Virge.” He stared at the barely awake man deadpanned before shaking his head in exasperation.

“Hi Pat, get up, we’ve got things to do.” He said before opening his door and slinking out of the car, his joints popping as he was finally able to stretch out for the first time in hours. His body was stiff from sitting in one position, only making minor movements every so often while driving.

He heard some shuffling before the door on the passenger side popped open, a mop of strawberry blonde curls barely peeking out from over the car roof.

“Where are we?” Patton asked, his voice still heavy from his recent slumber, as his eyes took in the tall building and constant movement around him. His ears were flooded with sounds of car horns and people talking.

“Welcome to Los Angeles,” Virgil muttered, already feeling his anxiety spiking. They weren’t supposed to stay here long, just long enough to find Roman and get out.

~*~

“Are you sure this is the place, kiddo?”

Virgil nodded, not bothering to spare Patton a glance before he pushed forward, opening the doors to the auditorium where a group of people sat on the stage. Some were screaming and yelling about this or that, while others were just quietly staring at the ceiling. What really caught Virgil’s attention, however, was the man standing on the right side of the stage, talking to a group of people as he waved his arms around dramatically.

As soon as the doors slammed shut behind Patton and Virgil, a collection of eyes were on them. The only pair of eyes that mattered at that moment were the ones that belonged to Roman Prince who had gone pale in the face, his brows furrowing in some kind of emotion that Virgil couldn’t decipher.

The pair watched as the actor muttered an excuse to what they assumed to be his friends before he hopped off the stage and began making his way towards them.

“What are you two doing here?” He seethed, his voice low and controlled as he glared at them.

“Wow, you are angry, aren't you? WHat’s wrong, did we step on your moment?” Virgil snarked back. Patton whimpered from beside him, getting flashbacks from when Logan and Roman had argued.

“Yes, actually, you did, hot topic!” He growled in response.

Virgil smirked and cooed, “Aww you think I’m hot!” He watched as Roman’s shoulder raised out of anger and frustration, almost akin to a cat’s hackles rising.

The pair watched as Roman let out a heavy breath before he asked, “What do you want?”

Patton watched as a mischievous glint flickered in Virgil’s onyx orbs before he spoke, his voice calm and smug, “I want a lot of things. I want to die, try some new foods, win the lottery. Oh! And I want to go back and time and stop you from being a dick!” He smirked at Roman whose face was now flushed bright red with anger.

“Oh, yeah, because you were so innocent in that situation, weren’t you?” The actor snarked back as he began pushing forward, forcing Virgil to step back. “Poor little Virgil, too scared to do anything but stand by and watch the world burn, always ready to place the blame on other people because mommy and daddy didn’t love him!”

Patton saw Virgil flinch as tears began to pool in his eyes. “Roman…” He called out, his voice quiet. Roman, in response, went to lash out at him next, only to be shoved back by Virgil who was now full-on crying.

“Fuck you, Roman. You don’t get to be angry at us for standing by when you called us freaks for being who we are. We tried to get you both to calm down, but you were so upset about your bruised ego and all your goddamn insecurities that you just had to bring everybody else down with you. Because you couldn’t stand to be the only one hurting!” He yelled, his voice hoarse and scratchy as he continued to call Roman out on his behaviours.

The two men stared at each other, one with tears running down his face while the other was frozen with shock and hurt on his features.

“Fuck you…” Virgil muttered before running outside, his body curled in on itself.

Patton stared at the doors before looking back at Roman who was now sitting on the armrest of one of the audience chairs. He watched a variety of emotions flicker across the other’s face before he hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder.

“I really was a dick, wasn’t I?” Patton snorted at the question and patted Roman’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“Yeah kiddo, you were. It’s never too late to make amends though.” Roman nodded dazedly, staring at the floor. “Virgil’s probably going to be gone for a while.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Patton.” He apologized, looking up at Patton with dewy eyes.

Patton smiled fondly before wrapping his arms around the other man. “It’s alright, kiddo. I forgive you.”

~*~

By the time Virgil had made it back to the auditorium, Patton had already filled Roman in on the situation and why they had decided to reunite in the first place. The actor wouldn’t admit it, but he was a little bit upset that they hadn’t just randomly decided to be friends again just for the sake of being friends.

As soon as Roman had caught sight of the anxious man, he’d begun apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, Virgil!”

It had startled Virgil enough for him to let out a yelp of shock before he’d gather his composure and brushed Roman off with a casual, “It’s whatever. Just don’t do it again.” To which Roman nodded enthusiastically.

The group had chatted a bit more about this and that before Virgil realized how late it was getting. He sighed before getting up and stretching once more. “I’m gonna stay at a hotel for the night, but then I think Pat and I are gonna hit the road. Hopefully, we’ll make it there by tomorrow night.” Roman nodded, standing with Patton who was already beginning to drag their feet slightly.

“Unfortunately, I have a show in three days, so I won’t be able to leave until after then, but I shall arrive soon after you both.” He said.

Virgil nodded before turning to leave, Patton already making their way towards the car. Roman hesitated before calling out to the anxious man, “Hey, Virgil?”

Virgil glanced back tiredly, “Hm?”

“Thank you…”

The two stared at each other for a moment, a silent conversation being held in their gazes.

“Whatever you say princey.”

~*~

Patton and Virgil had arrived the day after they had planned on being there and decided to find a place to stay while they waited for Roman to arrive. The past few days had been harsh, emotionally and physically, for all of them. So, Patton had declared it a self-care day. While Virgil had initially deemed it ridiculous, it hadn’t taken much convincing on Patton’s part to get him to go along with the idea.

So they spent the next three days exploring the changes of their old home, which albeit wasn’t much. It was still small and reserved. The middle school had been shut down after a tornado had torn through the gym and they had split the 6th grade into the elementary school while the 7th and 8th-grade students went to the secondary campus.

All in all, it hadn't changed that much. Not that they had expected anything to change at all, it had only been ten months since they were there after all.

The day Roman had arrived, Virgil had called Ethan to announce their arrival, before deciding to meet up at one of the local diners. Said diner was run by probably the only decent people still in the town, Dr.Emile Picani and their partner Remy.

Emile had been Virgil’s therapist when he first moved to town. He was also the first person to introduce Virgil to the lgbtq+ community, seeing as Emile was genderfluid. Remy was Emile’s significant other who was the equivalent of a coffee-addicted nonbinary racoon who was also high on sass.

They were also probably the closest thing Virgil has to parents if he’s being honest. They’re probably the closest thing to parents any of them had

As soon as Ethan had spotted them, his face relaxed into a small but worried smile. The trio quickly made their way over to his table, waving at Remy as they passed by the enby.

“I’m glad you came, Virgil. Same to you, Patton and Roman.” Virgil nodded in agreement while Roman and Patton both voiced their agreements. “Why don’t you three take a seat and I can fill you in on what’s happened.”

Roman and Virgil both sat across from Ethan, while Patton filed in next to the stranger. “I suppose it started not long after you three left town. He’d been irritated, sure, but we all figured that it had been due to the fight and change in his routine.” The three watched as his brows furrowed, his eyes darkening.

“We thought whatever it was, it would fix itself. But then he started leaving the house at random times and doing things that he’s never done.”

“Like what?”

Ethan stared at Roman for a moment processing his question before his face scrunched up in confusion. “It was small things. He would change the order in which he did things like brush his hair before his teeth. Sometimes he would put two different colored socks on before bursting into tears or screaming. Then it began to get worse. His mom caught him trying to climb a tree and he almost fell.”

Roman’s face went white as Ethan continued to speak. “Then one day, he’d gone out and never returned. We thought maybe he was just acting out, but then a week passed and there was no sign of him. His parents called the police, but after a month, they just gave up. Said he was young and stupid. ‘Probably just ran away to get high or drunk off his ass’ they said.”

“Logan isn’t like that though,” Roman interjected, eliciting a chuckle from Ethan.

“That’s what I said. But nobody’s gonna miss some small town fresh outta high school kid who just disappeared. Especially when they’re not a perfect replica of everyone else in this cursed town.” He sighed, leaning back in the booth.

They all knew he was right. This town held no sympathy for anyone who wasn’t a carbon copy of everyone else.

~*~

The next day had been spent gathering information from people in town who may have seen Logan. However, it seemed as if the entire town had forgotten that he had even existed in the first place.

Patton’s eyes filled with tears at the thought that maybe Logan really had been forgotten by everyone in this stupid town. Was that all it took to be forgotten? Disappear for a few months and suddenly you didn’t exist?

They sniffled, rubbing the tears from their eyes as they made their way back towards the diner where Roman and Virgil planned to meet them. They had all agreed to split up, searching in different areas of the town in hope of covering more ground in a timely manner.

Pushing open the door, their eyes immediately fell on the forms of their two friends who were sitting silently at a back table. They made their way over, hesitating before sitting next to Roman, not wanting to make Virgil feel trapped.

The three of them had begun to discuss their findings which were roughly equal to nothing. Roman had thought he may have found something, but apparently, the person he was talking to just wanted Roman’s attention.

During the conversation, Virgil’s phone had lit up and dinged with a notification. The group had ignored aside from watching as Virgil dismissed it with a flick across the screen, however then it dinged again, and again, and again. Patton wished they could just ignore it, but they could see just how much the repetitive sound had caused Virgil to spiral. Casting a glance to their side, it seemed as though Roman had noticed the change in Virgil’s behaviour as well.

Patton watched as Roman reached across the table, laying his hand on top of Virgil’s only for it to be smacked away. Virgil froze, watching as Roman’s brows furrowed. “What is your damage?”

As soon as the words had left his lips, Virgil was up and out of his seat, running out the doors of the diner before either of them could stop him.

Patton had quickly stood up to rush after his friend only to be pushed back by Roman who muttered for them to stay there as he chased after Virgil.

So Patton once again stood by and watched as their friends argued, unable to do anything but stick to the sidelines. When it became apparent that the two men weren’t returning any time soon, they had paid the bill and left the diner, making their way back to the hotel room.

Why couldn’t things just go back to how they were? They wondered as they closed their eyes, completely ignorant to the dark conversation happening with their friends.

~*~

“Virgil!” Roman called out as he chased after his friend. “Virgil, please just calm down and talk to me for once!” Roman stumbled to a stop as Virgil froze in front of him, panting heavily.

“You don’t get to ask that of me. Not after you turned my trust against me once before.”

Roman stared at his friends back for a moment before casting his gaze to the ground beneath his feet. “I know. I just… Virgil, I can’t stand to see you like this. And neither can Patton! We’re both worried about you.”

“Well, you can stop. I didn’t ask for you to worry about me!” He snarled.

“Please, just let me help you.” Roman called out, tears welling in his eyes from frustration.

Virgil whirled around, storming his way up to Roman before shoving him in the chest, forcing the actor to stumble back. “You want to help so bad? Huh? Are you that desperate to fix something since you can’t fix yourself?” His voice was thick and his words so sharp that they cut Roman up like a knife.

“Well guess what Roman? You can’t fix this. You can’t fix me…” His words had quickly lost their edge, the fire in his eyes dying out as quickly as it started. He stumbled forward, leaning his head on Roman’s shoulder as the other wrapped his arms around his friend.

“What’s wrong stormcloud?” He asked, eliciting a snort of amusement from Virgil.

“That’s a stupid nickname.”

Roman chuckled at the other's remark. “It made you laugh, so it couldn’t be that stupid.” Virgil merely hummed in response before pulling away from the warm comforting embrace.

“You already know that my parents put me up for adoption when I was 12. But that’s not exactly the truth. My mom died when I was 8 from cancer. Dad and I watched her rot away in her bed until one day there was nothing left to rot besides a corpse.” His breath hitched as he recalled the dead look directed straight at him.

“I had gone in to check on her after school one day and she was staring at the doorway, her eyes open but lifeless. Dad didn’t know until he found me curled in the corner of the bedroom screaming into my sleeves.” He sniffled, pulling his sleeves over his hands before wiping at his teary eyes.

“After that, dad couldn’t look at me. Said I looked too much like mom. The only time he’d even glance in my direction was when he was drunk off his ass or high as a kite. Then he’d talk to me like I was my mom. He asked me why I had to die and leave him alone.”

“I guess one of the neighbours became suspicious and called the police because the next thing I know my dad has me at gunpoint, threatening to shoot me, because he couldn’t lose me again. Because he couldn’t lose my mom again. After that I’d been sent to live with some foster parents until I got adopted. And that’s when I moved here and met you three.”

Roman watched his friend with sad, tear-filled eyes. “Is that why you-”

Virgil quickly caught on to what Roman was hinting at and chuckled before interrupting him. “No, no. I was an anxious mess long before that happened.”

Roman let out a breath of relief at that. He was glad to know that the horrible experience hadn’t completely changed Virgil. Even if his anxiety wasn’t necessarily the best of his traits.

After the emotional conversation, the two had headed back to the hotel where they found Patton already passed out on their bed.

The two quickly said goodnight before parting ways. Not noticing their friend who stiffened in their bed.

~*~

The next day, the group had decided to go hiking in the woods in hopes of finding any trace of where Logan had been heading. The air was humid as they walked a familiar path. It was one they’d walked many times before.

Virgil and Roman walked side by side, trading banter with each other while Patton trailed behind them, alone.

Only yesterday, the two men had been nearly at each other’s throat, yet here they were closer than ever, and Patton was alone again, left unattended in the dust, waiting to be forgotten once again.

“Can you two quit flirting…” He grumbled. Ahead of him, Roman froze, his fists clenching at his sides.

“I don’t flirt, Patton.” His voice was cold as he spoke.

“Really? Because you two seem awfully close for just friends!” He snarks, glaring at the pair.

“What the hell is wrong with you today?”

That had been the straw to break the camel's back. “You are! You two have gotten so close forgetting I even exist! I’ve tried to ignore it, but dang it, I’m sick of feeling so alone!” He felt hot tears spill down his face and gasped at the shocked faces of his friends. With a sniffle he turned and ran through the woods, not bothering to look where he was going.

“Patton!”

A voice called out followed by the sound of running footsteps. He just kept running. He had to get away! He couldn’t let them see this side of him! He-

A strangled yelp echoed through the woods, coming from behind him, forcing him to stop and glance back at where the noise had come from.

He quickly ran back the way he came, stopping as he noticed a patch of dirt and rocks that slid down into what looked to be a rockslide. “Roman! Virgil!” He called out.

“Patton!” He glanced down at the rock slide before turning to face the owner of the voice. Roman had jogged up to him, his breath coming out in heavy pants as he pulled Patton into a tight hug. “Are you okay?”

Patton choked back a sob as he nodded. “Where’s Virgil?” He asked, his eyes scanning behind Roman. When no sign of their other friend presented itself, he looked back at Roman who was scanning the area around them.

A moment later a sob echoed from below them and realization struck Patton. He quickly knelt down on the ground before calling out, “Virgil!”

“Patton!”

He stared down at the crumbled pile of rocks in horror. “He’s down there…” Roman quickly knelt beside him, talking to him, telling him to do something, but all he could do in that moment was stare down at the dark hole in the pile of rocks. Where Virgil was.

“Patton!” Roman slapped him, effectively snapping him out of his haze. “I know this is scary, but I need you to go get help, okay? Head back to the town and get emergency services! Tell them what happened. Can you do that for me?” He nodded, earning a small smile from Roman as he did so. He pushed himself up, stumbling to his feet before quickly dashing back to the path before following it back to town.

He could get help. He could do that. For Roman. For Virgil. For Logan.

~*~

Virgil doesn’t really understand how he ended up in the pit of darkness, all he knew was that it was so dark and there was a sweet odor beneath the smell of dirt and vegetation.

His leg hurt and he was pretty sure that it was not supposed to bend that way, but that wasn’t important at the moment. His eyes scanned the dark area in hopes of finding something to distract him from the agonizing pain.

His wish was granted when he spotted a glimmer of something reflecting some of the natural sight a few feet away from him. His eyes strained to see against the dark, but as soon as his eyes adjusted, he wished for the pain to overtake his senses once more.

Because just a few feet away lay the corpse of a young adult wearing worn and torn black polo along with a pair of dark blue jeans. It was only then he noticed the pair of glasses inches away from where he fell and he sobbed.

He had found him. He had finally found Logan.

His eyes stared at the corpse, unable to look away from the decayed body. The bones protruded out past his clothes that had been torn, likely by wild animals that had feasted on his remains. He could barely make out teeth marks on the bones of his ribs and limbs. Some of the bones were displaced and broken from abuse, and Virgil couldn’t help but wonder if Logan had been alive when the animals had begun to tear him apart.

Judging by the boulder that pinned his leg and the unnatural positioning of his neck, he guessed that it was unlikely. No, he had probably died moments after he’d hit the ground, if not the exact moment his body had collided with the cold stone below him.

Virgil felt his body tremble with sobs that couldn’t slip past the tightness in his throat. His breaths came out in wheezes as he pulled himself forward just enough to grab hold of the crushed glasses, their plastic frame broken and the glass inside completely shattered across the ground.

~*~

Roman had already been worried about his friend being trapped where he could not rescue him, but the sound of sobs coming from the area had him nearly jumping down to join Virgil.

Instead, he leaned forward and called out for his friend, “Virgil?” The sobs didn’t stop.”Virgil, what’s wrong?”

“He’s down he-here Roman! He’s, he-” Virgil’s voice was once again cut off by choked sobs. Roman is confused and worried, because what if Virgil is having a flashback or he’s hallucinating?

“Virgil, I know you’re scared, but you’ve got to calm down and talk to me! Please!” His voice was desperate as he called out to his friend.

He heard a growl come from the rock slide before Virgil’s voice once again rang out and Roman couldn’t help but smile at what he said. “He- I found Logan. He’s down here…”

“That’s great! That-He-” His voice died out as realization struck.”Oh god…” Tears filled his eyes as he stared down at the pile of rocks in horror. If Logan was down there, and he’s been gone for months then…

“Is he…?” He asked, the sobs that followed answer enough. “Dammit!” He yelled as he curled into himself, sobbing.

“He’s down here Roman and I can smell it. I can smell him, and god Roman he’s. His body is-”

“Don’t look at it Virgil!”

He heard more sobs coming from the caved-in area and couldn’t help but close his eyes in an attempt to stifle the screams that ached to break free from him in anguish. Now was not the time for a breakdown. Not when Virgil was the one stuck down there with a literal corpse.

“Okay, okay…” He mutters to himself before once again calling out to Virgil. “Okay, Virgil! Just close your eyes and listen to my voice, okay?” He tried to reach his friend’s ears through the sobs, but he didn’t know if Virgil had heard him.

“Virgil, listen to me! Close your eyes, okay?” He heard a small voice echo back the last word and sighed in relief.

He took a moment to take a deep breath before he began to sing.

He sang and sang and sang, until he heard footsteps and voices yelling. He sang until someone had grabbed his arm and tugged him away from the steep slide.

Patton was back and Virgil was going to be okay.

But Logan wasn’t.

Roman took one look at Patton before he burst into tears, crying into the other’s chest.

The rescue services had managed to safely transport Virgil to the hospital and were able to retrieve the body that had laid rotting down there for who knows how long. He and Patton had watched as they pulled the body bag along. They didn’t need to see what was in it to know.

One of the ladies had seen the two of them and handed them the pair of crushed glasses with a sympathetic, sad smile. Roman still didn’t know if he wanted to hug her or punch her for her pity.

The two had walked out of the woods, hand in hand, trying not to break down right then. Soon they would head to the hospital to sit with Virgil, waiting for him to wake up. But first they had to give these glasses back to who they belonged to.

Roman had watched as Patton handed Ethan the pair of glasses. He’d watched as the usually collected man broke down, crumpling to the floor and gripping the plastic frames so gentle yet like they were his lifeline.

They offered their condolences before saying their last goodbye to him. Leaving the man to mourn his loss in peace.

~*~

The hospital had released Virgil 4 days after the incident. Although, Roman wasn’t entirely convinced that Virgil hadn’t bullied the staff into granting him early release.

The funeral was held two weeks after the incident. They had decided that it was only fair that they stick around long enough to attend the funeral of their friend. They had seen Ethan there, only for him to disappear that same day.

The house he’d lived in was empty, completely barren of life and memories. All of it just gone, like that.

That night, Virgil, Patton, and Roman had traveled to the edge of the woods where they planted a batch of forget-me-nots in honor of Logan. They said their goodbyes, shedding many tears before they made their way back to their hotel.

The next morning, Roman would awaken to find Patton asleep and Virgil gone, replaced by a note that stated, “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. But I also wasn’t about to be the one left behind again, so I left first. I know this will sound cruel, and for that, I apologize, but please understand that I never want to see either of you again. Nor do I ever wish to return to that awful place. It’s too much. Too many memories. Still, I wish you both the best. ~Virgil”

Patton and Roman had both chuckled at the note before packing their own bags, sharing one last hug before parting ways one last time.

This was the end of a story, but not theirs.

12 notes · View notes

infjabberwocky · 4 years

Text

imagine if she was on something...

ARCHIVE FROM SEPTEMBER 8, 2019

Having just turned 50, I decided to reflect on my life.

Why am I unemployed. Why do none of my old friends speak to me?

Why do I get angry at people for the slightest misstep that I perceive to be an attack against me?

Why have I been unable to hold onto any relationship whether it is romantic or platonic.

Why do I constantly feel attacked and insulted when there is no real attack or insult.

Why do I feel superior to everyone on the planet one moment and then start bawling because I feel like a worthless piece of shit, horrible person the next.

Why do I dwell for weeks on something that happened 30 years ago? Why do I beat myself up over something I did as a kid? Why do I beat myself up over nearly everything I do or say?

Why does someone bumping into me at the grocery store and not apologizing send me into a suicidal frenzy? A frenzy of self-loathing and tears and dread and believing that I have nothing but bad luck and that the universe must hate me.

I chain smoke and talk to myself while I plan my own demise. How dare someone give me a dirty look. How dare someone question my Twitter post. How dare someone not value my opinion.

So, I asked some acquaintances what they liked and disliked about me so I could, hopefully, change.

Their answers were not kind. They weren’t mean, but something about what they said shocked me because I never really viewed myself as what they described. I often view myself as better than most. Nicer than most. More polite than most. A better friend than most. Turns out, I’m none of that. I’m just a narcissist who overreacts to just about everything in (mostly) silent self-deprecation. Let me backtrack to the early 70s. I’m around 5 or 6. I’m across the street at my best friends apartment. We lived in Navy Housing. I run back to my house to grab something and run back, only I can’t remember what apartment she lives in. I’d been there 100 times, but I couldn’t remember. By the way, I have an enormous dent in the back of my skull that no one would tell me about. Anyway, I can’t remember what apartment, so I just start opening random doors. A large naked man saw me, laughed and invited me in. I panic, run out of the building, into my room and crawl under the covers where I stayed for days. I didn’t eat and spoke to no one. In fact, I was so mortified that I never saw my best friend, again. Seriously. And that’s how my brain has worked ever since.

The internet gave me the chance to whine to everyone. Any chance I got, I’d whine about my terrible life. My lack of friends. My lack of romance. How no one liked me because I was ugly. I valued myself based on my looks. No one is ever attracted to me. I’m too ugly to live. I should just kill myself and put everyone out of their misery by having me gone.

I drank. A lot. It either soothed me or heightened my insecurities like waking up to a flashlight in my face.

I’ve been told to seek therapy thousands of times, even by my employer, but was either too embarrassed or assumed that I knew better than any doctor. I am, after all, smarter than everyone…until I remember that I’m actually dumber than everyone. I wish that I had kept a journal. However, I’m pretty sure that it would just be a lot of nonsensical writings blaming everyone and everything for my behavior. Someone was mean to me. Someone didn’t appreciate all of the things I did for them. Someone thought I was ugly and fat. Someone didn’t like my hair. Someone molested me. Someone didn’t love me. Someone didn’t pay attention to me. Someone lied to me. Someone avoided me. Now I’m in the introspection phase. I’m trying to put my behavior and lack of motivation together like a massive jigsaw puzzle. Want to come with me? Put your seatbelt on. Better grab a crash helmet, too, because this may get bumpy.

So, in 2013 I had reached the tipping point of being miserable at work. I was a radio personality at a very popular radio station in southern California. I had worked there since 1989. My original goal was to be a DJ, but took any job I was offered just to keep my foot in the door. I started out answering phones for the jocks. I…I’m having trouble describing myself at this time because I was young and don’t know if I was just reckless or knee-deep into a mental disorder. In any event, I was hard-working, yet lazy. I chatted with listeners more than I worked. I was threatened with being fired weekly, but for some reason, never was. My behavior would change for a few days and when things cooled down, I’d go right back to doing what I was told not to. I assumed that I was so beloved, that I’d go far in no time. That didn’t happen. Around this time, I started drinking. I’d take a sippy cup full of King Cobra in the car with me to drink on the way to work or school. Eventually, I was kicked out of college for lack of attendance and poor grades and that just confirmed that I was stupid. I would take a break from school, make up an excuse, petition and be allowed to re-enroll. This happened over and over. I’d make friends, have sex with most of them and never speak to them again. I’d fall in love. I’d fall out of love after they’d do something insignificant that annoyed me. I struggled financially. I went to my parents for money constantly. I stole money from my parents. I’ve never done drugs, only smoked pot a few times but drank a ton of beer I needed it to survive. I was outrageously promiscuous. Always looking for someone to love me, even if it was only for a few hours. When they didn’t love me back, they were banished from my life. I was like this for decades. I could go into story after story and example after example of my lazy, destructive, self-loathing, whiny behavior but it will just trigger me and if you are relating to anything I’m writing, it may trigger you, too. Let’s just avoid that for now. I will add, however, that I chose friends who talked down to me. Who talked shit about me to our peers. Who paid attention to me in negative, judgmental ways. I hated my friends but begged them to like me. I would make friends who were truly nice to me and end up hating them over some minor infraction like using my hairbrush or playfully making fun of me. Nerves were always touched, or should I say torched. I’d plan to kill myself only AFTER I did something to make them regret hurting me. I’ll show them. I’ll show all of them, right? When I was younger, I’d keep my anger and bitterness internalized. When I started drinking, it came out for the world to see. When I got older, I’d internalize it again and when social media became popular, I’d write it for the world to see. Every gripe. Every perceived slight. Every comment was an insult. Every suggestion was a jab at me. Every joke was really an opinion of my faults. See how my brain works? I always assumed I had raging PMS even though my self-loathing and anger was constant. Then, I thought I had raging ADD, which may or may not be true, but probably not the cause of my suicidal tendencies.

After I became a parent, I was so afraid of fucking my kid up that I drank more thinking it would help. Obviously, it made things a gazillion times worse. I was a functioning alcoholic. I was drunk nearly all day, every day. I hid it. At least, I assumed I did. I was an awful human being, so I doubt I hid it well. Here’s the thing, though. I thought I was funny. I was named Class Clown in high school. People at the radio station seemed to like me. The listeners liked me. I got good ratings. Everyone loved me. I think. I became obsessed with sex. I watched porn at work constantly. I got in trouble at work constantly. I eventually became a DJ after 12 years. I slept with anyone who asked. I came to work drunk and left even drunker. I had sex at work, after work before work. I was a terrible mother. Not abusive, but only thought of myself. Everything was an inconvenience to me. I divorced. I slept around more. I liked unavailable men. I hated everyone. I loathed myself. I resented everyone. I was constantly struggling financially. I never felt in control of anything. Not my surroundings, not my brain, not my body, not my career, not my choices. I always felt as if I was being pulled by someone else’s strings, but nobody was there except me. I used to fly off the handle over the smallest incidents. I mean teeny. My poor kid. The shit he had to go through watching me lose my fucking mind over dead batteries in the remote. Jesus Christ if I could go back in time. I assumed my outbursts were because of my drinking. Then I assumed they were because I was a failure at everything and feeling sorry for myself. Then, after 26 years, I finally got fired. Oh. My. God. Wanna talk about a trigger? Thing is. I quit drinking. I quit cold turkey. A few years earlier, three family members died months apart so I was still dealing with packing up their house and I just didn’t have time to drink. No time for hangovers. I also decided to alienate myself from EVERYONE. I didn’t have a job, I was worthless. I lost my only sense of identity. Being that girl on the radio. Turns out that those who no longer HAD to talk to me, didn’t. I lost all of my ‘friends’ and that’s something that pissed me off immensely up until a few days ago. I harbored resentment for YEARS. So, I get fired. Get my real estate license for CA, realize that I’m terrible at math and have horrific dyslexia and decided to LEAVE CA and move to Colorado to live with my mother who I hadn’t seen in 10 years. There’s so much that happens in between this but honestly, my brain is going 5,000 mph so I’ll have to come back to it later. I mean, up until a few hours ago, I thought I was the nicest person on earth. I never kill bugs, I put them outside. I feed stray cats. I picked dead animals up in the rod and pay for their cremation. I pull furniture out of the road so cars don’t run over it. But maybe I’m not nice. Maybe I’m just seeking validation. Maybe I just wrote that so you’d think I was amazing. Yes, I had an unloving mother (still do) who either ignored me completely or verbally abused me. When I told her that a close family member was sexually abusing me, she became furious with me and said that she’d speak to him about it. Nothing ever changed. I digress. I moved to Colorado and have made no friends, cannot find work and am broker than a mother fucker. I take surveys for spending money. I have a car that has a broken computer and am unmotivated to do anything but whine and cry and contemplate suicide. None of my former colleges speak to me. They claim to be afraid of my wrath. Although, I must admit that there were times that I loved being intimidating. I loved that people were afraid of me. Maybe because I was bullied severely in junior high. I don’t know. So, like I said…and I’m sorry that this is all over the place…I decided to figure out what my major malfunction really was rather than blame everyone else for my woes. I started watching tarot videos and they were all on point (there were a few times in my life that I believed I was a sorcerer and could control everything though magic, but that’s for another time). These videos were mostly ‘pick a card’ or Virgo specific and they were all nail on head. One video would lead me to another, to another, and so on. Then, I started watching videos about having an unloving, neglectful mother. Then I started looking up how to commit suicide. Then I started looking up videos on how to change my personality. Then, I had a meltdown. I was waiting to make a left turn when I noticed the older female driver behind me waving her arms and screaming (presumably at me). I have a Jeep and it’s hard for a car to see what I see. As I waited for the two cars in front of me to turn so I could make mine, I couldn’t stop watching her flipping me off and flailing about in frustration over my lack of movement and it triggered me HARD. I came home and cried and planned my suicide and cried some more and begged God to kill me over this stranger who was in the wrong lane, freaking out over me abiding by traffic laws. Then I dawned on me that there may be something going on in my brain that is making me behave like this. This constant all or nothing overreaction. The, either you love me or you hate my guts thing. The anxiety, the depression, the whining, the negativity, the self-loathing, the hatred of every living person on the planet. I’ve even hated my own kid for weeks because he said something to me that hurt my feelings. Can you imagine? He’s 25 and still lives with me, but that’s also another story. Just like the fact I live with my narcissistic, unloving mother who makes me want to slit my throat. All for another time. I was so exhausted living in my own world of believing that everything inconvenient that happens to me is bad luck. Someone didn’t smile at me, bad luck I’d better burn the shirt I’m wearing. Do I sound crazy? Yes. Do I know what to do about it having zero income? No. Going back to my mother for a second, she just triggered me. I’m trying to self-soothe as I type this. She does this thing where if she needs help or wants me to do something for her, she screams. Like, a scream you’d make when you catch someone breaking into your car. Screams. So, I always end up running downstairs only to discover that she dropped something or her TV remote doesn’t work. She refers to me as, ‘someone’ and ‘anyone’. Never by my name. Waiting for my heart stop racing…you’d think I’d be used to this. Her behavior is my biggest trigger. I had a boss who reminded me of her. A boss who actually called me a cunt once for posting on my Facebook that ‘d be better off dead. Called me a cunt. To my face. For everyone to hear. Now, I’m glad she fired me. How much more of THAT could I have taken? Oh, wait. I’m still taking it, but this time I’m not getting paid. My goal is to get out of here and never return.

I’m going to assume that I’m mentally ill. I haven’t been in a relationship since 2007. I haven’t had sex since 2011 because I’m afraid ghosts are watching me. I haven’t had a drink since 2014 and I haven’t had a face to face conversation with another human being since 2015. What has happened to me? Am I mentally ill? It has to be more than depression. It has to be more than bipolar. Nothing brings me joy. I’m paranoid. I used to be fun and creative and now I hate myself even more than ever, yet I admire myself. I want to die yet I want to see if something good will happen. I want to be loved yet I don’t want to go through the trouble. I’m not hungry yet I’ll eat junk food until I can’t put on my pants. I can’t even masturbate because I feel like it’s going to bring me bad luck. The thing is, I am fully aware of how insane this sounds. I’m aware that this is not normal, I just can’t stop myself. I’ve learned to hold in my verbal abuse because I avoid confrontation like the plague now. I’ve always kind of avoided it, but booze made it easier. Now, I’ll apologize for things I’m not even sorry for. Things I didn’t even do wrong just to avoid ANY conflict. I’m even avoiding social media. Some girl came after me on NextDoor last week and I actually put a hose in my tailpipe. Over some stranger. On fucking NextDoor. The blessing is that no one will ever read this. No one likes me and no one reads my blogs and fuck if I’m going to advertise this. I need help. I believe if I can fix whatever is going on in my brain, I can function like a 50-year-old adult, find work, maybe even love and live adequately ever after. I guess you’re going to judge me, now. It will trigger me and I’ll cry and probably try to kill myself, but you’ll think I’m looking for sympathy or being melodramatic. I’m not looking for sympathy for the devil, just a little tenderness. Yes, I realize that this looks like just a massive blog of bitching, moaning and complaining but I’m trying to show how my mind works, not whine. Well, whine a little. It’s really all I’ve got right now.

Until my next manic meltdown…

#INFJ VIRGO

1 note · View note

jawnjendes · 5 years

Text

shawn meets... | isabella

SUMMARY: in the life of a rockstar, shawn mendes comes across some unique people. sometimes, things stray from the norm. (AU, shawn x every one of my oc’s)(continuation/spin off of goth gf)

AN: time for a new oc! and by NEW i mean, new to yall,,, ive had this oc since i was 15

***let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist

previous chapter

isabella’s origin story not available | isabella’s playlist | masterlist

Out of all the places he’s been to, London seemed to bring the most interesting people to Shawn’s already interesting life. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was an international singing sensation, or because of his own strange luck. Was his college life this weird with people?

College… it felt like somebody else’s life. It had been a few years since he walked through the massive campus, but there were still days that Shawn found himself missing that life. He especially missed it these days because he still had Brian in that life. Not to mention it was all mundane and normal. A number of people knew Shawn, but it was not the colossal amount that knew him now. Back then, he could go to a karaoke bar and get as trashed as he wanted, and the only consequence would be a killer hangover. Back then, he would be going to a karaoke bar with his best friend.

These last few months were a grieving period. Shawn hadn't planned on taking time off, but the funeral was the last straw. Hearing the broken wails of Brian's mother as the casket was lowered into the ground was all too much. He couldn't handle the guilt that sat on his shoulders, or the grief that weight down on his chest. He couldn't look his friend's family in the eyes and say it was his fault why their son was dead. So time off was taken, and a tour was canceled, and much therapy was had.

Now, four months later, Shawn was getting back into the swing of things. He was back in London with the intention of songwriting and possibly some recording. His mind was still cloudy and his chest was still heavy, but he was deemed functional enough by Andrew and his therapist.

However, Shawn couldn't wander the streets alone. That was the case ever since his first fan mobbing in Los Angeles a few years ago. More recently, ever since the girl who bruised Shawn’s wrist happened, Jake had to be at his side at all times. Even at a crowded karaoke bar where his face blended with everyone else under the dim lights, and where everyone focused on the person singing onstage.

Shawn looked down at his right wrist. The bruises were long gone, and he could still play guitar just as he did before. The thought of never playing again gave him an uncomfortable chill. He couldn't be thinking about that, not when worse things had happened. Brian was the one who pointed out how odd and nonhuman that girl was. Shawn wouldn't have been able to figure out the truth about her and her employer. He really needed the karaoke bar tonight.

At least Jake was considerate enough to sit a couple of stools away from Shawn, giving him the illusion that he was here by himself. He nursed his beer and scanned the room, not really listening to the karaoke host introduce the next singer. Shawn was not really sure what he was looking for here. He chatted with the handsome, blond bartender, but he got busy with the night rush. All Shawn knew was that he didn’t want to be stuck alone in a hotel room, and he really didn’t want to be around more people who would share their condolences and fond memories of someone they hardly knew. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar song play on the speakers did Shawn finally focus on the stage.

If it was his own song, Shawn would have had to leave the bar. But it was Niall’s On My Own, making Shawn briefly consider texting the Irish singer to see what he’s up to tonight. However, he quickly zeroed in on the girl singing, and he started to wonder if he really did have a type.

She had short, choppy black hair, like she had cut it herself. These round purple sunglasses hung on the bridge of her nose, and it was the only thing that stood out from her all black ensemble: a low cut tank top, ripped jeans, and Converse high tops. She moved animatedly around the stage, that short hair bouncing and getting disheveled. She didn’t seem to care about how she looked.

Shawn turned back to Jake and gave him that look. “Are you seeing this?” Jake merely gave him a thumbs up.

The other thing about this girl was her voice. Every person that sang before here was… not good. This girl had a strong, rich voice. She could give Niall a run for his money with all the runs she threw into his song. She was talented. Shawn hadn’t heard a voice like that since he heard Bella Santiago sing in person for the first time. (Still a shame that girl won’t accept any record deal she was offered.)

Everyone in the bar seemed to like this girl too. The crowd roared with applause and cheers when she hit the bridge of the song. Shawn bopped his head along to the beat, feeling a genuine smile on his face for the first time in weeks. He clapped as hard as he could when the song ended, but then his heart dropped as he saw this girl walk off the stage and head for the bar. He turned to face the bartender, but looked down at his half empty bottle. His heart nearly stopped when the girl took the empty stool next to him.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a British accent that came out of her. At least, not a noticeable one. She sounded more American than anything else.

“Thanks, Seth,” she said to the bartender as he seemed to make a Blue Moon magically appear out of nowhere. “What’d you think?”

“Showing everyone how it’s done, like always.” He winked.

She giggled. “We getting outta here soon?”

“After last call, won't be long now."

Shawn felt a blow in his stomach. She was here with the bartender. Well, time to call it a night.

Then, there was something like magic. Shawn had turned towards Jake to signal him to get out of here, but there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned back around to find the girl looking at him.

“I sat here for a reason, you know,” she said, eyebrows raised.

Magic!

Shawn grinned. “That reason being?”

“Handsome chap, alone in a bar? Too good to be true, so I had to investigate. You here alone, mysterious stranger? I mean, apart from your bodyguard, of course.” She took a gulp from her beer.

Shawn was thrown off by that entire string of words. He couldn’t even try to play dumb. “How did you-”

“He’s had that protective look in his eyes since I sat down,” she explained. “And I know protection like nobody’s business.”

“Oh, you’re a bodyguard, eh?” Shawn asked, his eyes shamelessly trailing down her petite body. Yes, it was an excuse to look at the decent amount cleavage she had going on.

“Eh?” she repeated with a chuckle. “What, are you Canadian or something?” She laughed like it was such a ridiculous thought.

He blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

The girl laughed even more, her eyes squinting. “Are you joking? Canada’s not real!”

Maybe she had a few too many drinks. Shawn watched her with a polite grin as she hiccuped.

“You’re alright, mysterious stranger.” She held out her hand. “Isabella Montgomery.”

“Nice to meet you,” Shawn said as he shook her hand. For someone who just danced around onstage, her hand was quite chilly.

She quirked a dark eyebrow. “Gonna stick with the mysterious stranger thing, are you? Suit yourself.”

Either she recognized him and pretended like she didn’t or… she just didn’t recognize him. Whatever the case, Shawn was perfectly content with being a stranger tonight.

“You gonna sing tonight?” Isabella asked him.

“Oh no, I’m not drunk enough for that,” he said. “Besides, I don’t think I could follow up the show you just put on.”

She smiled. “You’re probably right. But I’ve got the smallest feeling you might be an alright singer.”

Okay, she definitely recognized him.

“I don’t really want the attention on me tonight,” he admitted.

Isabella nodded understandingly. “I see. Well, would you wanna get outta here?”

The two of them looked at each other for a split second. Shawn was quite forward himself, but he wasn’t that quick. Not to mention, he just overheard her make plans with Seth the bartender.

“To another pub,” Isabella hastily corrected. “There’s a place my friend over here and I are gonna head to. You wanna come along?”

“Oh!” Shawn felt a little more delighted now that she clarified the bartender situation. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. Where's this place at?”

Isabella licked her lips and grinned. She looked for her bartender friend, who just announced last call on the microphone. When he returned to his post, Isabella waved him over.

“Yes, my dear?” Seth asked.

“My new mysterious mate wants to come with us,” she told him.

“Oh, does he? Think he can handle it?”

“I can handle it,” Shawn piped up. “What kinda place is it, anyway?”

Isabella and Seth shared a look, silently communicating. Then, they both turned back to the mysterious stranger.

“It’s, er, a nerdy… type of place,” Isabella explained slowly. “People cosplay… Dungeons and Dragons type of things. They take it very seriously, won’t even break character if you talk to them. It’s a weird environment, but it’s fun nonetheless.”

Shawn nodded as he took in the information. Wouldn’t be the first nerd-themed place he’s been too. But it has been a while. “I’m down. Sounds fun.”

“There’s karaoke there too,” Seth added. “And, we can promise that you will continue being a mysterious stranger while we’re there.”

A karaoke bar where no one will recognize him? Sounds like a dream.

“Let’s do it,” he told his new friends.

This nerd bar was hidden. The shelf behind the bar was actually a secret door. Seth pushed it open with surprising ease while Isabella hopped over the bar. Shawn looked at Jake, who didn’t seem suspicious or hesitant. Yet.

Seth let the others pass through first before shutting the shelf door behind him. Then, Isabella led them down a hallway lit by dim blue lights. She pushed open another door, revealing a bar that was much darker than the previous one. It felt more like a nightclub.

Shawn could barely make out people wearing long colorful robes, dancing under the strobe lights. Definitely nerd space. An unrecognizable song was blaring over the speakers. As Shawn tried to figure out what exactly the lyrics were saying, Isabella nudged him.

“I’ll sign us up for karaoke!” she yelled over the music.

“Wait-” he tried to say, nerves building up in his stomach.

“You’re singing with me no matter what!”

And she disappeared towards the stage.

Before Shawn could stop her, Seth came in for the distraction. He pulled Shawn over to the bar and ordered something for the three of them. Soon enough, there were shot glasses lined up along the surface of the bar, and Isabella had found the boys.

“Oh, fuck yeah!”

Each of them grabbed their tiny glass. Shawn looked around for his guard, now nervous about being left alone, but he found Jake in the far corner of the club. Watching. Waiting. Unbothered.

That was enough for Shawn to down one, two, three shots of whatever the fuck with these people. He felt fire in his veins, euphoria surrounding him. Everything he was previously worried about didn’t matter anymore.

“We’re gonna sing Panic!” Isabella told him at some point.

“Can’t wait!”

Next thing he knew, Shawn was onstage in front of a massive group of nerds, High Hopes blaring on the speakers. Isabella was next to him, microphone in hand as she belted out the beginning of the song with her killer voice.

Shawn took over the first verse, and the two of them harmonized wonderfully. At least, with the alcohol in his system, it felt that way. The two of them danced around on stage like fools, not caring about looking cool or composed or even trying to sing well. Isabella sounded naturally good, though. She messed up her hair and nearly tripped on her feet a few times, but man could that girl carry a tune.

“Had to have high, high hopes for a living Didn’t know how, but I always had a feeling I was going to be that one in a million Always had high, high hopes”

It was liberating. It was spiritually healing. It was different than performing in an arena of thousands of people. He could just be silly and not have to put on his tour persona.

They only sang one song, but it was enough for Shawn to feel something other than the crushing grief that was frequently on his shoulders. He felt good, almost happy. He danced with these strangers and drank some more. He saw pretty lights dancing around the ceiling, he could almost see the stars and the moon through it too. It was magical, to say the least.

"Guys, I'm getting hungry!" Isabella exclaimed after a while.

"Well, I'm getting tired!" Seth told her. "What about you, mysterious stranger?"

"Fooooooood!"

The three of them (Jake in tow, of course) left the way they came in. Seth pushed open the shelf door and let the others through. Shawn's ears were ringing once he was back in the quiet, but there was still adrenaline coursing through his system. He wasn't ready for the night to be over.

But Seth was. He stretched his long arms over his head and yawned once all of them were out in the humid night. “I’m out for the night, lads. It was cool hanging out with you, stranger.”

“You too, brother,” Shawn said, clasping his shoulder.

Seth then turned to Isabella. “I’ll see you at home?”

“See you at home,” she confirmed.

Then, Seth stalked off down the street, practically disappearing into a dark alley. There was a cracking sound that broke the quiet night, but Shawn wasn’t exactly preoccupied with that.

"Where we gonna eat?" he asked Isabella.

However, Jake stepped in. "We should really get going. It's late enough as it is."

"But I'm hungry!" Shawn whined.

"Yeah, the boy is hungry!" Isabella assertively repeated, placing her hands on her hips. "Can't let him starve now, can we? There's a burger joint down the road, 's not that far."

The two of them stared down the bodyguard. He usually took Shawn away from the fun despite the singer's protests. It was always because they had something to do or somewhere to be the next day, but there were still a couple of days left before the demands came back… before the prominent absence of a certain Brian made itself known yet again. Shawn wanted to savor this time, drunk or not.

Jake seemed to realize this as well, because he suddenly approved. “Alright. You eat, and then it’s back to the hotel.”

Isabella bounced on her feet. “Sweet! Let’s go!”

She linked her arm with Shawn’s and led him literally ten steps up the road. The burger joint was empty apart from the cashier working the graveyard shift. Jake went to sit at the booth in the corner, continuing to do his job.

“God, I’m dying for a veggie burger,” Isabella said, looking up at the menu.

“Are the garlic fries any good?” Shawn asked.

“Wouldn’t know, I have a garlic allergy.”

He looked at her, surprised. “Shouldn’t we go somewhere else? What if your food touches garlic?”

She waved it off. “I don’t have severe reactions or anything. And I’ve been here loads of time. Trust me, it’s safe.”

Well, if she knows her own body… The two of them ordered, and Shawn made sure to keep the allergen out of his meal as well. Then, they sat down two booths ahead of Jake, still keeping the illusion that Shawn was out and about on his own.

Under the much brighter lights of this establishment, Shawn could make out Isabella’s face a little more. She had the babiest baby face a person could have. If they hadn’t met in a bar, Shawn would have thought she was a teenager. The pink blush on Isabella’s cheeks only added to that. Maybe she had used a fake ID at the bar… she could actually be a teenager.

Isabella caught him staring, and immediately knew what was on his mind. “I’m twenty-four, just so you know.”

“Oh, I wasn’t-” he tried to say.

“Lots of people give me that look. You know how many clients of mine think I’m an intern?”

Shawn blinked slowly, his hazy mind still processing what she just said. “Um, what is it that you do?”

“I’m a lawyer for muuu- ah, uh - immigration lawyer.” She grinned nonchalantly.

“That’s awesome,” Shawn said.

“Yeah, a few years back I volunteered my services when people in the States were being wrongfully detained at various airports,” she explained. “I got hired by a law firm in New York, so I lived there for a bit.”

Shawn was impressed, but he thought about exactly how long ago those events took place. He was still a little weary about Isabella and her age, so he counted backwards on his fingers. However, the math got difficult and fuzzy in his still inebriated mind, so he took her word for it.

“I promise you I’m older than I look,” Isabella said with a laugh. Then, she turned serious. “Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded rapidly, numbers still flying around in his head.

“I know you’re not just a mysterious stranger,” she admitted. “I know who you are.”

His eyes widened a little bit. Was this another disturbed fan interaction? Oh god, maybe he should have listened to Jake and gone back to the hotel.

“You performed at Sapphire Lilith’s birthday party,” Isabella clarified, seeing the look on his face. “I was there.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah. I performed at her house.” And he spent a blissful week with Sapphire, only to result in her ghosting him and the death of his best friend. He cleared his throat as that memory came to mind. “How do you know Sapphire?”

“Her parents died few years ago and she needed me to look over their wills,” Isabella said casually. “Oh, and she got robbed a few times and needed to me look into the legal part of it.”

Shawn tilted his head. “But aren’t you an immigration lawyer?”

“Yeah. We also went to the same sleepaway school years ago.” She shrugged. “Uniforms for girls were pink, but you would never catch me in that shit. I spray painted my dresses black and wore sneakers. I got in so much trouble.”

“Wow. Got ourselves a rebel here.” He chuckled, his hand sliding across the table.

Isabella was faster than him. A single blink later, and she was standing. “I think our order is ready.”

Something fell out of her pocket, making a small clattering noise. Shawn immediately reached down to pick up the item, only to be confused at what it was.

“You dropped your… wand?”

He didn’t even get a good look at the dark wood before Isabella snatched it out of his hand and shoved it back into her pocket. Her eyes were suspiciously wide again.

“I, uh, I love Henry Popper. Be right back!”

As Isabella went to the cashier, Shawn looked back at Jake two booths behind. He seemed more confused than suspicious. Or, spaced out. His eyes were staring back at the guy he was supposed to be guarding, but it didn’t look like he had processed anything that just happened.

Then, Isabella came back to the table, non-too-gently setting their tray down on the table. The noise was loud enough to make Shawn jump and face her again.

“Sorry for freaking out,” she said, somber.

“It’s okay. Hey, I love Harry Potter too,” he replied. “I’m obsessed. Did you get your wand at Universal?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m a Gryffindor.”

“Me too!”

Isabella pointedly grinned and tilted her head. “Really? You give off big Hufflepuff energy.”

“Why does everyone say that?” Shawn chuckled before taking a bite of his burger.

“Because it’s true?”

“And how would you know that?”

“Who has the wand between the two of us? And don’t talk with your mouth full!”

Shawn playfully narrowed his eyes as he chewed and swallowed. “Didn’t realize I was talking to the queen of all things Harry Potter!”

Isabella chuckled. “You could say he’s like a friend to me. As a matter of fact, I saw him yesterday when he came round for tea.”

That got a laugh out of him. Any worry he had about this girl was now gone. He would much rather be here than be alone with his thoughts in a hotel room. How often does he get a genuine conversation like this anyway? How often does he get the time to talk to anyone and form one-on-one connections?

He was doing exactly what he wanted to do: make music and perform it. Six years ago, Shawn had no idea what it would cost to be able to do this. When was the last time he had spoken to any of his friends? His family? He looked down at his meal, suddenly not very hungry.

“Hey!” Isabella said, lightly tapping his arm. “Don’t get sad on me now! Am I really that depressing to be around?”

“Of course not,” Shawn said without missing a beat. “And I’m not sad.”

“Please, you reek of stress, loss, and…” She sniffed the air. “Guilt?”

Shawn scrunched his brows, pretending like he was not just attacked. “Where do you get all that from?”

She coughed. “Just a guess. I imagine, being a mysterious stranger, it’s hard to come by actual friends.”

That was something he could talk about without getting too deep into his drunken feelings. “I… yeah. People define you by what you are on the outside and see nothing else. Don’t even take the time to see what’s inside, in your heart.”

Isabella was playing with her fries. “I know what that’s like. All I’ve ever been is a blood sucking parasite with a wand. Doing what you know you’re destined to do comes with a lot of sacrifices.”

“Absolutely,” Shawn agreed. His own cave of regrets came to mind, but he wasn’t drunk enough to share any of them.

next chapter

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @someoneunimportantxx @iloveshawnieboi @shawnsunflower @chillingbythesea @theprivatesmutacc

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn x oc #shawn meets fic #no one reads my shit anymore but whtv

22 notes · View notes

5-seconds-of-bucky · 5 years

Text

So I Don’t Forget (Luke Imagine)

A/N: Anna's writing 5sos stuff??? It's been forever since I've posted anything with 5sos but nobody reads it so . . . Anyways, I know this is a cliche idea but I like it. Thanks to everyone who reads this! Please reblog and leave feedback! It would mean the world to me!!!

Summary: You write letters to Luke to help cope with his death

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Mentions of death, very sad, swearing

*Italics are the letter, normal font is y/n's actions*

April 13, 2018

Dear Luke,

It's been a month since the accident and I haven't been doing so great. My therapist suggested writing letters to you to help cope but I don't think they're going to help. I've only felt more upset now that I have to think about you more. I don't even know what to write about. Not much has been going on since you left. I haven't been able to do much without feeling the need to break down. I've tried to stay strong for Robbie but it's so hard. He's too young to understand what happened, other than the fact that you aren't here anymore. Everyone is nice to me, but in a pitiful way. It's almost like death is contagious or something. They bring over meals and tell me that they're there for me if I need anything but the second I invite them in, they act like they have somewhere to be and leave.

That hurt: realizing that nobody knew how to comfort you, or even made an effort to try. Without Luke, you felt so lonely. You had Robbie, but he couldn't do much, being so young.

You should see Robbie now. He's grown so quickly. I can already see you in him, it's insane. His hair is all curls and his nose is an exact replica of yours. I wish you were still around so he could take after you personality wise. Now he's going to be as sarcastic as I am (which probably isn't a good thing). Fuck that driver who couldn't stop to think about how dangerous drunk driving is. They didn't just take you from us, they left Robbie without a dad, your bandmates without a brother, and me without my soulmate. You left too soon and now I have to be a single mom when we barely had this parenting thing down with two people. It's so hard.

The tears that had been few and in between for the past few days were pouring down your face now, some splashing onto the paper of which you were writing your letter. You couldn't help it. The more you thought about it, the more the pain crept into your soul, consuming every last cell you had. You had lost you husband, your soulmate, and you'd never get him back.

This is all I can write for today. I love you so much and I promise I will never forget you. Not a second goes by when you're not consuming my thoughts. With more love than we could ever imagine,

Y/N

It was done. Your first letter to your dead husband was finished. What else could you write to someone who would never read it?

6/30/18

Dear Luke,

It's been a while. I'm sorry, I just haven't been able to get myself to write this. I've been doing so much better lately. I can go out and do things like a functional person now! Everyone's doing a lot better actually. The boys have been coming over a lot recently for dinner. They look less heartbroken, and I guess I do too. They've talked about finishing the tour soon but they're probably going to break up after that. It's not the same without you. Who knows, maybe they could get someone to replace you! (Haha, they could and would never. You are just too special to replace.) That was kinda mean but I think this deeply heavy and emotional letter needs some comedy relief. (You can tell I'm doing better since I'm making jokes again.) How is it up there? I hope you're doing alright and that you're not lonely. Robbie is convinced you don't have enough friends and you need some company but I told him I'm sure you've made plenty. He really misses you now that he kinda understands that you're gone for good. He's told me that he wants to be just like you when he grows up. (He's convinced he could replace you in the band if someone would just show him how to play the guitar. I don't trust his three year old hands around them though so don't worry, your guitars are perfectly safe.) He's going to start preschool this year and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. He's grown up so fast! Soon enough he'll be going to college and I'll be all alone. I forgot to tell you, I got a job! At first it was just to distract me from my grief, but I've found that I really enjoy it. Sure, we have enough money to live comfortably for a very long time, but I didn't want to spend the rest of my days sitting around and doing nothing. Anyways, that's all I really have to write for today. I miss you so much and I love you to the end of the universe and back a million times! Love,

Y/N

You clicked the end of the pen with a sigh of relief. You had written your first letter to him in two months and you were just now realizing how much better you felt. It was like swearing when you stubbed your toe. A bit of relief from the pain you felt. Maybe this helped more than you originally thought.

7/3/18

Dear Luke,

I know it's only been a few days but you need to hear about this. Robbie told me he wants another pet. Another fucking pet. I though Petunia was enough but no, he wants a cat. I love cats and all, but do we need another pet??? Petunia takes up enough space as the baked potato she is (I love her for it don't get me wrong) so we don't need another animal right? It's really hard to get ask your advice when you can't respond. Maybe we should do it just because we can and I think Petunia needs a companion. She's good around cats, right? Fine, I'll do it. I can't believe writing to you is helping me make up my mind. Oh well. While I'm here, might as well mention that I miss you and I love you so much!!! (Three exclamation points, that's a lot! That's how you know how much I miss you) Sorry this letter is so short but we have to go look for a cat now. Love you! Love,

Y/N

P.S: We bought all the supplies for the cat. Now we have to go find one (7/4)

P.P.S: We got a really fluffy cat and Petunia loves her (7/6)

8/1/18

Dear Daddy,

Hi daddy! It's Robbie! I miss you so much!! Mommy has to write this cause I don't know how to write yet. We got a kitty and we named her Oreo cause she's black and white. Petunia likes her soooooo much. When I play blocks Oreo knocks them over and then I have to start over. I built a really cool castle yesterday but Petunia ran into it before mommy could take a picture of it. My birthday is coming soon! I'm going to be 4! Mommy said that Grandma and Papa are coming over and we are going to eat cake and open presents (but the presents are for me because it's my birthday). I'm going to play with Petunia now! I love you!!!!!!!!

Love, Robbie

Hey Luke, It's me, Y/N. I'm not gonna waste paper so I'll write this on the same sheet. I think we'll keep the letters to once a month now so I have stuff to talk about and so we don't forget. Robbie drew you a picture so I'll put it in here when I fold the letter. It's a picture of all of us and Petunia and Oreo. I don't know why I'm so short compared to you. Maybe because I told him that you were super tall? I don't know. Anyways, the boys have decided not to finish the tour. They claimed it's just not the same without you on stage and that they don't want to have a 5sos without you. I don't know if they're going to continue as a band or not. I know you would want them to but it would be weird without you. I'm gonna go now. Sorry these have been short lately. I'm not really sure what to say anymore. These letters help to cope but I don't think I can really put everything I want to say on paper yet. Love you more every day that passes by!

Love, Y/N

Throughout the next few months you wrote Luke letters, hoping that the words would just flow onto the page. Every month it seemed harder to put something down. You felt much happier now, but that emotional barrier was still present. After a while you stopped writing the letters, too frustrated with yourself to try to write more. You never forgot about your husband, but you started to think about him less often than before. That was, until the one year anniversary of his death.

3/13/19

Dear Luke,

I'm back. I know it's been too long but I've been doing so well. The letters got to a point where there was nothing for me to put down on the page. They started to make me more frustrated with myself than they helped me cope. I never knew what to say other than I miss you and I wish you had never left. I finally finished my last therapy session! (Last week actually, but now is not the time for technicalities) I'm so much more at peace with myself than I was a year ago. A whole year that you've been gone and it feels like an eternity. It's been so hard without you here. I know I said I've been doing better but sometimes I feel myself slip without anyone there to catch me. There are nights where I can't do anything but cry because I know that I have to live the rest of my life without you. That I will never find someone who I love like I loved you. Like I love you.

In that moment you broke down. Luke was gone for good and you couldn't do anything about it. The only part you had left of him was his guitars and Robby.

I know I have to be strong but it's so fucking hard. Life is shitty without your sunshine personality to make it better. Robby is constantly asking about you and I wish I didn't have to leave you partially up to his imagination. He needs a father figure here and I can't give that to him. I've tried to get back into the dating game but I just can't. Being with someone that isn't you doesn't sit right with me. The thought of someone taking your place as my husband and as Robby's dad is terrifying. You were supposed to be with me through it all and you were barely there for the first portion.

You place the pen down on the desk you kept in your room and stood up to go to bed. You couldn't finish this letter. Sobs pushed through your body and you couldn't seem to stop them as they slowly got louder and louder. Normally you would be concerned that Robby would hear you but at this point you just needed to let it all out. The pain that you had held down for the past year all came out at once. What if Luke had been five minutes late from the meeting rather than out on time. What if you had asked him to pick up the milk you needed so he would have to take a different turn. What if that stupid driver hadn't gotten drunk in the first place.

"Mommy, why are you crying?" Your son's voice came from the doorway. He was holding the stuffed tiger Luke had bought for him when he was born. Ever since the accident, Robby rarely let it out of his sight.

"I just miss daddy," You reply, sitting up in your bed and holding out your arms to pick him up when he walked over to you."We lost him a whole year ago now and I miss him a whole lot."

Robby was clinging onto you now, hugging you as tight as he could and burying his face into your shoulder. You sat like that for a minute, trying to stop your tears until you felt Robby start to shake.

"Why can't daddy come back to us? I miss him!" He wailed, causing you to shed a few more tears. At that moment, the only thing you could do was rub his back and cry with him.

"I miss him too baby. I miss him too."

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos one shots #5sos imgaines #5 seconds of summer one shots #5 seconds of summer imagines #5sos fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #Luke Hemmings #Luke Hemmings one shot #Luke Hemmings imagines #Luke Hemmings fanfiction #my writing #angst #reader x luke hemmings #y/n #reader insert

48 notes · View notes

unbefuckinglieveable · 5 years

Text

Logan Bartender AU Prequel

(( Wow okay so. Have a prequel no it won't be this dark the entire time. But character backstory and I had fun. It was going to be @apologieslogan holific, but i got a logince idea .however i told them that I would write this for them. And here we are :D enjoy

- Pandora

CW: verbal and physical abuse, manipulation, drowning, drinking,and suicide.

Danielle Croft didn't understand how her six-year-old was so smart, but it bothered her to no end. The brat was just like his father, fair complexion, sharp features, dark chestnut hair, growing fast, and a mouth that just wouldn't stop. It just wouldn't stop. She may not have been so annoyed if she wasn't constantly nursing a hangover, and dealing with civil court cases.

Much like how she was currently reading over a character witness, that was until her son burst in on the balls of his feet a book clucked in his little hands. Dark curls hanging in his face. Danielle had ignored him at first, she tried. However, he continued to shout about the stars of all things.

No doubt it was the North Star and Bible study that brought it up. Stupid religion and its dependence on holidays. Much like the one coming up.

“ -And Neutron stars! Mommy they thpin and thpin and thpin they go 600 thpinth a second! And uh uh nobody-uff” Logan huffed as he finally stopped spinning, trying to talk more facts with his mom, maybe she'd listen to this topic, dad would have liked it. He couldn't get the air in him fast enough. Or talk slow enough to negate the lisp from losing a front tooth.

“Logan, stop. I am busy I don't have time for you to interrupt me.” The adult warned, patience worn thin, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her eyes wandered to the Hem of his pants just coming over his ankles. ‘ugh, I just bought him those pants, come on!’ Logan's expression seemed sad and confused.

“ Bu-but Mommy, tharth are tho pretty and amazing, did you know that-”

“ Did you know! Did you know? Logan, did you know that you are earning your way to no Christmas if I can’t get my work done!” Danielle snapped slamming a hand down on the table. Logan jumped frowning

“ Even if we did have it you'd get coal.” The child grumbled defiantly his hands clutched the book tighter as he looked up into his mother's light hazel eyes with his own deep blue ones. He hadn't anticipated the back of his mother's hand colliding with his face so hard it knocked him to the ground.

“ You don't talk to me like that, Logan, and I never get coal because I am Santa. Go to your room.” Logan scrambled out of his mother's office with tears in his eyes, his book abandoned on the floor.

Danielle picked up the book and threw it into her fireplace, it was one less thing for him to bother her about. She didn't think about the gash on her son's cheek from her old engagement ring. If she was honest, she didn't care.

Later that night at dinner Logan came up to her and asked with a little plea tingeing his tone. “ Thanta ith real, right? You were jutht mad at me, right?” Logan rubbed the scabbed cut on his cheek, as he looked at the person who put it there. He would never forget the smirk on her face like she felt good about what she was about to say.

“ None of the holidays are real Love, I wanted to keep you happy, but I don't see the importance of lying to you, not if you love facts so much.” The child ran to his room and didn't come out for two days. Christmas went by unmarked that year, and every year with every holiday.

Logan's mother saw an opportunity, every time he would go off on one of his topics, she would tell him a fun fact about the real world some weren't too terrible. Other times it would be, “ Did you know on average one American dies every twelve seconds?” Logan would leave with his head hung low, however, he did dive into his studies, there had to be something his mom would enjoy.

There had to be something. Anything.

Though her words left a mark, a burning sensation in his chest. It wasn't as bad as the scar left on his cheek from the first time. A diagonal thick line from his cheekbone to the right of the middle of his cheek. She didn't backhand him anymore, but when he stepped out of line, he knew what he had coming.

Her words would haunt him at the most inconvenient times, particularly, his first and last time at the coastline a few years later. Logan was about eleven years old. Boogie boarding while his mom was busy with work and happy hour. Logan was having a blast so much he didn't realize that the current had pulled him out too far.

Before he even had time to process the situation, the waves came down over top of him knocking the board away, the force strong enough to pull the Velcro apart. Leaving him to flail as he sunk. ‘ Did you know on average one American dies every twelve seconds?’ His mother's voice taunted in his mind as he thrashed trying to get to the surface

Logan felt his eyes droop while his hands clawed towards the sun. Wireframe glasses sunk below him far from sight. He did the one thing he could think of. If he could survive twelve seconds, maybe he could survive twelve more.

One… his arms feel heavy but he continues to struggle.

Momma, help me!

Two... His mouth opened exhaling his air in a huff. Involuntarily.

Please I'm scared!

Three … he sinks deeper as water fills his lungs.

There's no air here!

Four… Exhaustion grips him.

I'm... I'm so tired.

Five… he stops fighting as the edges of his vision soften. Warmth. Surrounds him

You aren't coming...

Logan was unconscious by six.

After Logan regained consciousness, it still took five minutes for him to realize that he was not dead. That a girl named Rosaline had pulled him from the water and ultimately saved his life. The eleven-year-old had his hands feeling the ground for the slim wireframes that weren't on his face. “ Oh no,” the younger boy groaned which peaked Rosaline's attention.

“ What? What's wrong?” She questioned as she tucked a curl behind her ear.

“ I lost my glasses.”

“ You could've died out there and you're worried about your glasses… I fear you may have lost some brain cells with them.”

“ You don't understand, my mom is going to be so mad at me.” Logan protested.

“ Nowhere near as upset she would be if you had died just now.”

“ I don't think she'd notice too much, well, she'd notice but it would be followed by relief. Thank you for your help miss-”

“ Just call me Ro, my friend's do. I think even though she is a bit mean your mom might not be so angry when she found out how.”

“ Your most likely right, thank you, Ro, have a nice day,” Logan said calmly as he went to stand up through legs wobbled beneath him. Ro steadied him and held the younger till he had his bearings.

“Thank you, again.”

Ro smirked, “ Yeah Yeah, can you walk? It might be best if you laid down and got some rest.”

“ I got it just give me a minute,” Logan said taking a few wobbly steps before he gets his act together. “ Thanks again Roro,” Logan said calmly as he walked away, Rosaline sighed softly to himself.

“Later…LoLo”

Danielle was furious that her son had lost the one thing that she had bothered to keep up with. She started packing up their belongings to leave. “ We aren't going to be able to come back for a while those were expensive glasses. And I have to scrape money to get new ones.”

“ I understand..”

Logan didn't care if he ever came back, though he did enjoy Ro's company. Maybe they'd meet again one day.

Years passed, holidays were skipped, birthday's skipped, stars are forgotten. Logan gave up actively trying to impress his mother instead he focused on his studies. By fifteen his mom lost her job at the D.A, by sixteen her unemployment ran out. Logan started working at a restaurant, to support himself, and he supposed that he took care of her, in his own way.

By the time Logan was set up to go to college his mother begged him to stay by her. He chose a school by the shore they vacationed at when he was younger. It was a quality school, far away from her. And he was firm when he left. She hadn't believed him the first four times he explained. At this point, he wasn't letting her play him off.

“ I am leaving tomorrow, mother. There is a bit of money left in the pantry. I look forward to meeting people, people of the functioning variety, that is.” The young adult warned as his mother stirred on the couch.

“ Logi-bear, why do you wanna go so badly? Take a year off.” Danielle, or Dani as she went by now, lolled her head to the side, Logan rolled his eyes in disgust.

“Did you know, that I just don't care to do that.”

“ Alexa, play ‘Mother Knows Best’, The Tangled soundtrack.” Logan grimaced as the cringey soundtrack began to loft through the air.

“ No more like Alexa, play ‘Comfortably Numb’ by Pink Floyd, because that is you, always chasing a high that will never feel the same again.” He crossed his arms glaring at her. “ I did try to make you happy! If you aren't there for me then I will find someone who is!” Lo growled as he grabbed his coat. Walking to his bags by the door taking one in each hand.

“ I won't stay, because I know you won't change. We'll be homeless by Winter. I do not intend on being there to witness your alcoholism consume you. Goodbye, mother.”

“ Logan!” Dani hissed shooting up from her seat and staggering to her son. “ I'll change… I will stop drinking.”

“ That is great, except, I know it isn't true. It is something that you would fight for the rest of your life. You couldn't even go to A.A to keep your job.”

“ Do you want me to go to A.A. I'll go!” Dani pleaded as she stumbled to her knees in front of him. Her lighter red hair tousled about her sunken in the face as she glanced at the only strong feature of her life.

“ Go to rehab,” Lo ordered quietly, to him that would be what it took in that moment for him to consider staying. She needed to give him hope. With Comfortably Numb playing quietly in the background his piercing blue eyes stared at her while she looked away.

“ I- uh - wh- what? Young man you are the ch-”

“ In your own words then, every time you went to the bar on holidays or birthdays, ‘laterz’. “

He left with no intention of going back, that night his mother died, in the bottle and with steel on her temple. The night Logan's childhood died with her. He had received a stipend for the affair. Lo wouldn't spend it. Logan started working an extra job, under the table. He wanted his education. And it was paid for, housing and food? It was a good thing he started mixing drinks at a young age. Now he got paid for it at least.

#logan sanders #logan angst #sanderssides #trans!roman #tw:suicide #tw: abusive parents #i am aiming for a good time. can you tell?#pandorafic #prequel #college bartender au.#thank you everyone ♡♡♡♡

44 notes · View notes

crisscolferfanforever · 5 years

Text

Milwaukee Law after Shock

We see the wapuan correctional facility we see a man named Larry Edwards who was found guilty 2 years ago of a murder of a boy that he raped in

Milwaukee country a case that peters and Megan prosecutor and ray and his detectives investigate we see him eating his breakfast she has a

conversation with another rapist

MR. Scott

“Heard you did okay last night”.

Larry Edwards looks at Scott

Larry

“Meatloaf and mash”.

Scott

“A couple of Dr Peppers”.

Another man name Jeff who is serving a 25years to life for a murder in

Merrill Wisconsin

Jeff

“I would've gone with a pizza, sausage and pepper”.

Larry looks at the guys

Larry

“I am not on death row “

Jeff

“Maybe I should start over”.

Scott

“I bet you get a real kick out of that.

Now's not a good time to go crybaby, Mickey.

Yeah, right.”

Larry leaves to go back to his cell

Larry

“In your dreams”.

He goes to his cell which he is approach by a guard

Jason

“You sure about the priest?”

Mr. Edwards goes to Church every Sunday trying to find his faith

Larry

“I’m sure”.

Jason

“How about the curtain? “

Larry

“What about it?”

Jason

“It's your choice, Mr.

Edwards. Open or closed?”

Larry

“What would you like?”

Jason

“Closed.”

Larry

“Then close the sucker “

Jason

“Fine.”

Jason leaves as Larry meets in his cell with a priest as they began his

service

Larry

“Like a damn fish in a barrel”.

Eric

“Want to say anything?”

Larry who is dying of aids drops his pants in front of the priest and he

snaps Larry

“Do it.”

We approach Ray’s office Ray is talking to Jerry and char on a case that

end when the phone rings

Ray

“Curtis here”

Ray looks at Char and jerry

Ray (counties)

“Thank you, MR. Stone, “

He hangs up the phone

Ray

“that was Mr. Stone at appoxirity 8:00 am guards at the Green Bay Prison

Larry Edwards was found dead in his cell they believe he killed himself

after he forced himself on a persist “

Jerry

“ok after that I need a bit to eat “

He leaves

We see Megan and Peter driving on Water street in a traffic jam

Peter

“They should ban cars in Milwaukee “.

Megan looks at him

Megan

“What”

Peter drinks

Peter

“no pithy response”

Megan

“You leave me speechless”.

Peter

“Nobody forced you to watch it”.

Megan gets stop on Wisconsin Ave

Megan

“I can't imagine what it must be like, staring at a clock, knowing the

exact moment”.

Peter

“Adele Saunders thought she was going to work.

She ended up dead.”

Megan “Your pity's misplaced.

I'm tired of arguing, peter “.

Peter

“Good.”

Megan

“You know, I'm not feeling too well.

Must be the flu.”

Peter

“Yeah, The flu.”

Peter

“Want to take the day? No, I've got Silverman”.

Megan

“I'll cover”.

Peter

“What? You sure? Okay, fine”.

Peter gets out of car

Megan

“I'll drop you off at the office”.

Peter

“No problem”.

Megan

“And you've got Schwinger”.

Peter

“She'll wait. I’ll take a cab.”

Megan

“Maybe you'll feel better”.

Peter

“I'll call you later.”

We go back to Ray’s Office we see char and ray Char

“Hell, of a way to spend your day off.”

Ray sits down

Ray

“He just twitched”.

Jerry

“his eyes were wide open, case closed.”

Char

“What did you expect, a dozen archangels strumming their harps?”

Ray

Well, Larry Edwards going to have nothing to do with angels.

Who knows? Maybe somebody somewhere will learn something from this.

Yeah, the 30 friends and neighbors that cheered when he ripped off Greg

Boyce pants and raped him.”

Jerry

“You want to get some Chinese, char? I guess death make me hungry.”

Char

“Actually, I've got some files I've got to finish up.”

Jerry

“Hey, watch out, Lieutenant.

This kid's gunning for your job”.

Ray

“Yeah, well, it doesn't get her any overtime.”

They go outside to their office where the clapping begins

Steve

“So, where you are going, to Disneyland?”

Jerry

“Knock it off, Profaci.”

Mike

“What's up with him?”

Char sits down

Char

“He lost the lotto.” Ray

“Takes it personal.”

Steve

“Beginning of a new era, huh, Ray?”

Jerry

“We're just lucky that Edwards kept his lawyers out of it until the

bitter end.”

We go into Peter’s office where they are discussing a plea deal and

talking about today

Kim

“So, what's it like, man? What? was the guy green when you saw him? Does he lose control of his bodily functions or what? That would be cruel and

unusual.”

Peter

“Yeah.”

Johnny gets his brief cases out

Johnny

“For the poor SOB who had to clean up the vomit when they found him.”

Peter gets to business

Kim

“Man, two peters? Three-to-nine?”

Peter

“Not a chance Man one. Five-to-15.”

Johnny

“Is that the best you can do? A bird in the hand, David.

Right.”

Peter

“My mistake.”

They look at Peter

Kim

“you guys give us a moment “

They leave

Kim looks at her friend from Law school

Kim

“what’s going on”

Peter

“I don’t think I should have came to work “

Kim

“is it because of your father “

Peter

“just a little bit “

Kim

“I forgot how easy this job is for you when you don't have any choices.

Marissa and Kevin Mandalay.”

The come back in

Peter

“Nothing to talk about, Man one all around.”

Kim

“Come on, peter.”

Johnny

“Marissa's an honors student, a member of the math club.

Who likes to hold up bodegas?”

Peter

“Oh, that was Kevin.”

Johnny

“Marissa just thought they were going in for Ding Dongs.

With an Uzi?”

Kim

“She's a good kid, peter.”

Johnny

“Give her aiding and abetting.”

Kim

“Kevin, he goes the distance.”

Peter

“Sorry.”

Kim then calls Peter out of the office

Kim

“I love as a Friend and as college friend and co-worker please what’s

going on “

Peter

“I am just not in the mood “

Kim

“did you call Stacy”

Peter

“she won’t help”

Kim

“I get it you hate losing and I know she needs take reasonability for

her actions so let’s talk about it on Monday “

Peter nods

Kim

“when is Megan going to be in the office “

Peter

“she’s thinking of quitting “

Kim

“so that’s what’s bothering you “

Peter

“yes”

They walk into peter’s office

Peter

“I will make you an offer on one condition”

Johnny

“were open ears peter “

Peter

“we wait until Monday morning “

Johnny looks at Kim

Johnny

“deal”

We see Jerry eating lunch without char with a bunch of guys

Buddy

“So, me and Jerry are still in uniform.”

Jerry eats his Chinese

Jerry

“yeah and in 25 years on force in Milwaukee I have never seen a dumb

crime “

Buddy

“tell them about the case that happen 3 years ago “

Jerry

“oh, so we had a simple assault case and the mother came to bail him out

and “

Buddy

“the bail was 650 and she paid all of it “

Jerry

“in Nickels “

They all laugh

The waiter comes in

Glen

“so, do you guys want any more “

Jerry

“I am leaving I got go see my son”

Glen

“that will be 12.50”

Jerry

“here’s a 20 and keep the change handsome “

They all laugh

We approach the 2-9 where Ray and Char are working on the Larry Edwards

case for paper work

Char

“I can’t do this anymore”

Ray

“what’s the problem “

Char

“why are we still working on this “

Ray

“unknown victims “

Char

“I can’t take this right now”

Steve comes in

Steve

“what’s the matter “

Ray

“let’s go home for the day and come back later I think this whole day is

getting us where we are now “

Steve

“ok”

They leave

we approach the DA office Ryan comes into peter office

Ryan

“I got to do a news conference to do and I don’t want to do it “

Peter

“It will be fine “

Ryan

“it’s not New York city where it’s a death sentence “

Peter

“I know my Father was the DA there for 25 years “

Ryan

“ok, where is Megan”

Peter

“she’s got the Flu “

Ryan

“alright what are you doing “

Peter

“I am going have lunch with J.K and Liz “

Ryan

“ok”

They leave the office

We approach Peter who is at a lunch with the two

Olivet

“so, they found him hanging “

Peter

“yes “

J.k comes in sits at the table

J.k

“well how is the family of Greg Boyce and John Kohler doing “

Peter

“I spoke to Linda and James and they don’t want to talk about it “

Olivet

“well I can see that after 3 years you think they got the courage to

talk “

Peter drinking his water

Peter

“no “

J.k

“how many killings was he suspected of “

Peter

“30 Killing , 60 rapes , then these are all boys “

Olivet

“well I got a patient at four about this “

Peter

“what’s good here “

J.K

“the pasta is “

Peter

“good I’ll have that “

Olivet

“oh speaking that , I got the Kimberly Neweman file for you “

J.K

“that is brutal “

Olivet

“she kills her husband simple because she didn’t get what she got in the

Divorce “

Peter

“sounds Like Diane Brochardt “

J.K

“copy cat “

Peter

“can we just eat”

They look at peter

Olivet

“you saw a man dead and you were supposed to do nothing “

We approach Jerry eating Lunch with his son at Beans and Barley where they talk about life in general starting with the Whitehouse

Jerry

“Can you believe Richie? “

His son James looks at him

James

“I am voting for Bartlett “

Jerry

“I am too”

James

“well my basketball season went well “

Jerry

“tell me about it “

James

“well We lost in the Sectional Finals to Pewaukee finished 20-6 “

Jerry

“they should add two more games “

James

“ha-ha, I miss when Division 1 Had three days at Madison “

Jerry

“same “

Jerry keeps on eating

James

“what’s going dad “

Jerry looks at his son

Jerry

“this morning I was called to Dodge County and I saw a body of an inmate that I arrested, and I wasn’t supposing Invest age my Job is to see dead people daily and then fine the son of a bitch who did it and today I

didn’t “

James

“dad don’t feel bad “

Jerry

“thank you “

We see Peter at a bar on Milwaukee’s Brady Street where he is still waiting to hear from Megan he talks with the Bartender

Peter

“it’s a Bitch? who the wife the husband, the kids, and then he’s like

yeah all of those things”

Mike

“you Ben Stone’s son “

Peter

“yeah “

Mike

“I have never seen you before here but only on tv “

Peter

“My old man was a DA in New York for 30 years he has worked notable cases like the case involving Frankie Boy Jordan “

Mike

“the Mob of New York”

Peter

“yes, and his down fall was the mob”

Mike

“tell me about it “

Peter takes a drink and starts talking

Peter

“he was trying a case that had a wittiness that was in fear for her life and when he return after the not guilty verdict came in the men that were on trial went after her and shot her so I was about 16 my mother was home and she heard the door slam my father was down stairs drinking he did not come up my mother was worried it was 11 pm she found him dead

“

(the Music gets tense)

We approach the 2-9 where we see ray on the phone with Steve wife

Ray

“hey how are you doing I am good, he left but I will check and get back

to you “

Ray walks out and see Jason

Ray

“hey Soderberg where did Steve go off too “

Jason

“I think he went get away “ Ray

“well his wife is calling “

Jason

“I will call him “

Ray

“Thank you “

We see Steve out in Bayshore Mail just reading a book and eating a

pretzel where he gets a call on his cell

Steve

“hello”

It’s his wife

Steve

“hey what’s, I am in Whitefish Bay right now you want to come up,

alright see you in bit “

He keeps on reading

We approach Jerry and his son walking in Walker’s point

Jerry

“so, who are you playing for non-conference “

Ken

“we play two games in New York then we play Tosa West , Tosa east ,

Wisco , and Milwaukee Washington”

Jerry

“you trying to get a one Seed “

Ken “yeah”

Jerry

“do you know who your playing in New York “

Ken

“We are playing Buffalo East and La Luleuime “

Jerry

“wow “

Ken

“I get back to work if you need anything just let me know “

Jerry

“thank you “

We approach Marquette Law School where Megan’s Brother Max is teaching

she enters as

Max

“how is it possible that DOMA and Prop 8 where struck down in the courts, while other cases had the react opposite holding? Miss Johnson?”

Johnson

“the 14th Amendment “

Max

“you are partly correct “

Johnson just looks dumbfounded

Max

“remember class what did the people that were fighting case want, Miss

Johnson try again “

Johnson

“Equal protection “

Max

“that is correct, class the people wanted to be treated just like everyone eles it wasn’t about a social event that they were going to

remember that now “

Class is dismissed

Megan waits for her brother

Max

“you here for a re do “

Megan

“some things never change, you pulled equal rights stuff on me “

Max

“no, we are talking about the 14th Ademenht, what do you want to talk

about “

Megan

“Larry Edwards “

Max

“I heard he committed suicide”

Megan

“I still wish Wisconsin had the death plenty “

Max

“I can tell you why I am not for it and why I am here instead of the

court room in Chicago “

Megan

“why are you against it “

Max

“let’s go up to my office “

We approach the Bar where Jerry comes in

Jerry looks at the bar as peter is on the phone probably to Adam

Jerry

“is this seat taken “

Hank

“yes, my friend “

Jerry

“who is your friend “

Hank points

Jerry turns around

Jerry

“oh great, this guy is trouble you do know that “

Peter

“Jerry how’s it going “

Jerry

“I need a Club Soda “

Hank

“long day”

Jerry

“no depression “

Peter

“hank Cheer him up “

We go back to Max’s office where he and Megan are discussing Larry

Edwards

Max

“so, he died “

Megan

“yes “

Max

“why do you care “

Megan

“because my Boss and I had a fight”

Max

“your fighting with Stone “

Megan

“yeah “

Max

“remember what Penn taught you, and you will be fine “

Megan

“yeah, “

Max

“your mother and father want you to come and visit “

Megan just looks and leaves

We approach Ray and Megan at the 2-9

Ray

“man, I order way too much “

Jake

“well what do you want to do “

Megan comes in

Ray

“hey you what’s up “

Megan

“not much “

Ray

“I order the orange Chicken and general Tso with Pancakes do you want

any of it “

Megan

“sure, Death makes me hungry “

Ray

“what do you want you pick “

Megan

“give me that general “

They start eating

Ray

“so, how’s the office “

Megan

“I am good “

Ray

“it’s a mess trying to get Larry Edwards confession in writing for the

court it’s so brutal”

Megan

“Ryan did a Press conference “

Ray

“I saw that “

Steve comes in

Steve

“hey sorry to bother you but Kate is doing a press conference “

They turn it on

Ray and Megan watch the confessions

Ray

“ok change the channel “

Megan

“it’s so brutal “

Megan eats a pancake

Megan

“how’s Jess doing “

Ray

“busy with the kids they so adorable “

Megan

“I had a reunion today”

Ray

“with who “

Megan

“my Brother Max he teaches at Marquette “

Ray

“how did that go “

Megan

“very Painful “

Ray

“I am sorry to hear that “

Megan

“I went to Law school at Penn and he went to Law school at Marquette “

Ray

“I went to Uw-Milwaukee with a background in ASL,what is the difference

”

Megan

“he always thinks I am better “

Ray

“I know give it time “

Megan

“my mother was always struck towards him”

Ray

“why”

Megan

“cause he’s Hard of hearing “

Ray

“well maybe I can sign back and forth to him “

Megan

“you have deaf family members “

Ray

“my Mother and my mother In-law”

Megan

“he tried taking ASL and tried being in the deaf community but everyone

rejected him”

Ray

“yeah it can be a tough journey “

Megan phones ring

Megan

“I got take this “

Ray

“you know Jerry needs a driver “

We approach Ray and his wife Jess ray is just tired after a long day and

writing a letter

Jess

“hey Darling “

Ray

“hey”

Jess

“what are you doing it’s almost midnight “

Ray

“writing a letter to my mother “

Jess

“read it for me “

Ray

“Hey mom it’s almost midnight and I don’t know why I am up it was a day like not many happen expect the state of Wisconsin got it’s wish when an inmate killed himself he deserved what happen to him , a 16 year old boy walking down the street he raped and murdered him I suppose I should feel great about the man’s death or bad or guilty I don’t know “

Jess

“don’t lie to Dorthey “

Ray

“I am not trying to lie “

Jess

“darling “

Ray just looks at his wife

We returned to the bar where Jerry and hank are playing pool Megan walks

Hank

“man, you guys should quit your job and join the pool team here “

Jerry

“I like my job “

Hank

“you do “

They laugh

Megan walks in

Hank

“hey you know her “

Jerry

“let me see “

Megan

“you know me don’t play me”

Jerry

“oh yes consular what’s up

Megan

“Peter called me.”

Jerry

“Peter? peter turned into a basketball.”

He sits his drinks down

Jerry

“Can I buy you a drink, Counselor?”

Megan

“No, thanks”.

Jerry

“Okay

I got one for you.

Jerry

“How come California has the most lawyers, and New Jersey has the most

toxic dumps? Because New Jersey got first pick.

You don't get it.”

Megan gives him the look

Megan

“Look, why don't you get your coat, and I'll drive you home?”

Jerry

“Home”

The drunk jerry keeps going

Jerry

“Where in the car Where to? I used to know”.

Jerry and Megan in the car jerry is still talking

Jerry

“So, this morning really bummed you out.”

Do I look bummed out to you? You know, it wouldn't be so terrible.”

Megan looks over at jerry

Megan

“What's that?”

Jerry

“If you were my kid.”

Megan sort laughs it off

Megan

“I guess I should take that as a compliment.”

Jerry keeps rambling

Jerry

“Hey, you're smart, you're pretty, you got a good job, and you don't

hate my guts.”

Megan looks at her passenger

Megan

“Jerry, I doubt your son hates you.”

Jerry sighs

Jerry

“No, you don't know. You don't know him.

I don't even know him. I never will”.

A car droved by drunk driver slams into Megan’s Car as it honks at her

Ray (voice over)

"A crowd of people stood and cheered when he raped him.

"They were supposedly good people, "and they didn’t do anything.

"Then he beat him to death with a baseball bat.

"And today the state of Wisconsin and the city of Milwaukee got its

revenge. "It's not enough, and it's not too much”

Jerry just watched as he injured and a dead body lays in the car

End of 1.8

3 notes · View notes

maddie-grove · 5 years

Text

Bi-Monthly Reading Round-Up: May/June

PLAYLIST

“How Do You Do” by Mouth and MacNeal (Once Ghosted, Twice Shy)

“Up the Wolves” by the Mountain Goats (Don’t You Dare Read This, Mrs. Dunphrey)

“The Daughters” by Little Big Town (Lady Rogue)

“9 to 5″ by Dolly Parton (Lady Notorious)

“Let the Little Girl Dance” by Billy Bland (What a Wallflower Wants)

“Poison Arrow” by ABC (Give Me Your Hand)

“Marie-Jeanne” by Joe Dassin (Never Mind)

“Mississippi” by the Dixie Chicks (An Unconditional Freedom)

“Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind (Bad News)

“Honky Cat” by Elton John (Simple Jess)

“A Weekend in the Country” from A Little Night Music (Some Hope)

“Picture Book” by the Kinks (Mother’s Milk)

“A Place in the Sun” by Stevie Wonder (At Last)

“She’s in Love with the Boy” by Trisha Yearwood (A Dance with Danger)

“Little Hollywood Girl” by the Everly Brothers (Seduction: Sex, Lies, and Stardom in Howard Hughes's Hollywood)

BEST OF THE BI-MONTH

An Unconditional Freedom by Alyssa Cole (2019): Daniel Cumberland, a free black man from New England, had his faith in justice and certainty in the world shattered when he was abducted and sold into slavery. Now rescued, he does what he can as a spy for the pro-Union Loyal League, but he has a lot of rage and trauma that nobody knows what to do with, least of all himself. Then a new spy joins the organization: Janeta Sanchez, a mixed-race Cuban-Floridian lady pulled in too many directions by her white Confederate family and now in desperate straits. Once again, Alyssa Cole has produced a book that’s not only a compelling romance but a fascinating historical novel. Daniel and Janeta are both complex, involving characters with a great dynamic, plus Cole provides a great perspective on less-discussed aspects of the Civil War.

WORST OF THE BI-MONTH

Once Ghosted, Twice Shy by Alyssa Cole (2019): Likotsi Adele, personal assistant to the prince of Thesolo, came to New York City a year ago for work and had what was supposed to be a casual affair with Fabiola, a gorgeous fledgling fashion designer. Just when her feelings were getting involved, though, Fabiola cut things off with no explanation. Now back in NYC on vacation, Likotsi runs into Fabiola, who proposes that they go on a date for old time’s sake. Although it’s technically the worst of the month, this novella is by no means bad; on the contrary, it’s very cute and sweet, with a pretty sexy love scene near the end. It just suffers from common romance novella pitfalls, mainly a dearth of conflict and some pacing problems.

REST OF THE BI-MONTH

Never Mind (1992), Bad News (1992), Some Hope (1994), Mother’s Milk (2005), and At Last (2011) by Edward St. Aubyn: Across five novellas, Patrick Melrose, son of an aristocratic non-practicing doctor and a charity-minded heiress, struggles with the legacy of his father’s sadistic abuse and his mother’s elaborately cultivated helplessness to intervene. The series follows him from early childhood (Never Mind) to drug-addled early adulthood (Bad News, Some Hope) to slightly more functional middle age (Mother’s Milk, At Last). I’ve never read such enjoyable fiction about the boredom and exhaustion of dealing with trauma and addiction, but St. Aubyn manages it with sharp characterization, whistling-in-the-dark humor, and a great sense of setting. I didn’t like all the novellas equally--Bad News has too many scenes about doing large amounts of heroin for my personal taste, and Some Hope sometimes loses track of its many characters--but, taken together, they’re magnificent.

Seduction: Sex, Lies, and Stardom in Howard Hughes’s Hollywood by Karina Longworth (2018): Using the life and career of billionaire/producer/aviator/womanizer Howard Hughes, Longworth (the podcast host of You Must Remember This) looks at Hollywood from the silent era to the waning days of the studio system. I love You Must Remember This, and this book exhibits all the strengths of the podcasts: the compelling style, the evenhanded consideration of evidence from multiple sources, and the use of film analysis to examine what was happening in the culture at the time. Longworth’s portrait of Hughes is also refreshingly non-sensational; he comes across as a juvenile reactionary with a little vision, too much money, and some pitiable mental health problems, rather than a genius or a boogeyman.

Simple Jess by Pamela Morsi (1996): Althea Winsloe, an Ozark widow in the early twentieth century, is determined to remain unmarried and look after her three-year-old son by herself, despite the disapproval of her close-knit community. Still needing help on her farm, she hires Jesse Best, regarded as “simple” because of a cognitive disability stemming from a childhood brain injury. As they work together, Althea realizes that Jesse has depths that few people bother to see. I was a little concerned when I began this romance; the hero has serious, life-altering issues with mental processing, which I thought might create a troubling power dynamic between him and the heroine. Instead, Morsi contributes something really valuable by showing how society ignores the autonomy and complexity of people with disabilities. She also does a great job of showing how a close-knit community can be both claustrophobic and supportive. Finally, I enjoyed the journey of a gay side character (the song’s for him!).

Lady Notorious by Theresa Romain (2019): When George, Lord Northbrook, discovers that his father is part of a tontine whose members have started dying at an alarmingly fast rate, he enlists the help of Cassandra Benton, an unofficial Bow Street Runner, to investigate the possible murders while pretending to be his scandalous cousin. Already friends, they grow attracted to each other during this charade, but they come from different worlds and each have a complicated family thing going on. This is a thoroughly likable romance with a fun plot; I especially enjoyed how George’s efforts to care for his emotionally distant parents mirrored Cassandra’s struggles to let go of her codependent relationship with her twin brother.

Don’t You Dare Read This, Mrs. Dunphrey by Margaret Peterson Haddix (1996): Fifteen-year-old Tish Bonner doesn’t have much time for school; with an absent father, a troubled mother, and an eight-year-old brother she feels responsible for, she’s too busy trying to hold things together at home. When her father makes an unwelcome return, though, she finds an outlet in the journal assigned by a nice young English teacher who promises not to read entries marked DO NOT READ. I first read this YA novel in middle school, and it struck me as particularly unvarnished, both then and as an adult. Teens in horrible situations are common in the genre, but Tish’s matter-of-fact presentation the day-to-day of dealing with sexual harassment at work and total parental abandonment at home really brings out the utter bleakness. I love Tish, whose ultimate acceptance of her inability to handle everything alone is as brave as her desperate efforts to keep everything together.

Give Me Your Hand by Megan Abbott (2018): Kit Owens, a talented chemist from humble beginnings, is shocked when former classmate Diane Fleming comes to work in her lab. Although Diane was the one who inspired her to reach beyond community college, she also burdened Kit with a horrible secret...and now they’re in competition to work on a prestigious new grant. I love Megan Abbott as a writer; she has a very sensory-based way of describing things that makes everything palpable. While I didn’t love this book as much as The Fever, it has a delightfully twisted plot and female characters who are “bad” in a realistic (or, at least, a humanely portrayed) way. I did probably like Diane more than I was supposed to; like Lady Audley before her, she should maybe go to jail but she’s still awesome.

A Dance with Danger by Jeannie Lin (2015): In Tang Dynasty China, Jin-mei, daughter of a magistrate, finds herself in a compromising position with Yang, her father’s old associate and sworn enemy of a local warlord. Their mutual attraction makes the ensuing wedding a more pleasant fate than either expected, but Yang disappears mysteriously before the marriage can be consummated. Heartbroken and very suspicious, Jin-mei refuses to give him up for dead. This is a fun adventure-romance with a wonderfully spooky atmosphere, although the ending is a little rushed.

Lady Rogue by Theresa Romain (2018): After her sub-par art-dealer husband apparently committed suicide, Lady Isabel Morrow grew close to and had a fling with Officer Callum Jenks, a Bow Street Runner. Now she’s discovered that her husband sold his customers forged works, and she needs to (awkwardly) enlist Callum’s help in replacing them with the real ones. This is a solid Regency romance, mostly thanks to the fun burglary plot. Isabel and Callum’s relationship, while perfectly pleasant, is rather static; they obviously like and respect each other, but just need a little time to reconcile themselves to the not-onerous-to-them social costs of a cross-class marriage. There’s also a real bummer of a development involving a minor character at the end. I’m not averse to bummers, but it felt out of place here.

What a Wallflower Wants by Maya Rodale (2014): Stranded at a strange inn after a failed elopement attempt, secretly traumatized spinster Penelope Payton finds a friend in the striking Lord Castleton...but is he who he says he is? Absolutely not, but he’s pretty cool regardless. This is a sweet, heartfelt Regency romance with endearing leads and great messages, but it’s pretty sloppily written, and that detracted from my enjoyment somewhat.

#books #reading #theme: i'm not one of those people who goes around having fun

2 notes · View notes