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#mom wouldn't let me go on a walk without a water bottle and inhaler and dad would humiliate me for taking them
slippery-minghus · 2 years
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that comic about the monster lady not being monster enough for the support group got me thinking, and i think i have the answer to my shrink's homework for me this week. after i was sick last week, we spent the sesh talking about my pathological independence (my term not theirs) and how not only do i never ask for help, i don't know what help i would need.
we managed to narrow it down to pinpoint the conditions i would ask for help in, and what i would ask, and basically i would have to be at a breaking point combined with not knowing what to do. the only kind of help i would ask for is to be taught how to cope on my own/solve the issue on my own. to be given the tools, not have someone else do the work. i never want people to solve my problems (or even offer me comfort while i solve them myself)
which actually leads me to something i didn't expect. i often see a lot of my reactions to my mother in my neuroses/traumas like this, but i think the icing on this one is actually from my dad. my dad, who never taught me how to do anything, and would berate me for not being able to do it on my own. it sounds so obvious now, but i'm not surprised it didn't click. i understand now why the memory of getting my first bank card has been rattling around in my head this week. because it was such a blunt example of him refusing to teach me, to give me the tools to figure things out on my own, then humiliating me (literally in public) for not understanding. i remember nearly crying in that bank. because no one would explain to me how atm cards worked—not that i would have been in any sort of position to learn prior to that— and therefore i couldn't be trusted to be mature enough to handle the responsibility. i had to beg him to let me have that much.
and then i think to the start of the pandemic, when i was 26 not 17, and how he took the reins from the back seat to control getting me enrolled in unemployment payments. he guilted me for not being able to do it on my own, saying how he wouldn't always be there to do these things for me. i didn't have the guts to stand up to him, but i know i spent a lot of time talking to my therapist about how all he really needed to do was teach me.
i'm sure a lot of my independence comes from my mom. her paradoxically neglectful helicoptering created the perfect storm for that. nothing could be done on my own, and i could never be trusted to be able to learn (because i was so delicate and infantile), but i was also always left alone in my most vulnerable moments. and then dad would come home and blame me for scraping by alone instead of innately knowing how to thrive.
my parents wanted a child they only had to parent and raise when it was convenient, when it made them feel good, when it made other people like them. the rest of the time it was up to me to maintain the image. the rest of the time it was up to me to figure things out on my own. that i did a damn good job raising myself goes without saying, but it's left me not knowing how not to know what to do. and i don't know how to ask for help about that.
#the bit about signing up for unemployment too pings that very delicate spot about my dad being relatively well off#but using every cent to abuse#i know these days it's kinda shameful to have been raised middle class so it's hard to talk about but financial abuse is my dad's favorite#it's why he sent me a $150 gift card for xmas like it was nothing#because if he never allowed me to learn actual independence he could keep me financially dependent#and afford to do so at that#and thinking about how with my mom it was impossible for her to not see me as an overgrown infant#she would cut meat for me until i was like 12. and every steak fry was cut in half so i wouldn't choke like i did when i was 3#i couldn't choose my own clothes for the day until i was 12#and i fought tooth and nail to prove i knew how to take care of myself#i took pride in being 10 and knowing how to run a house (cook clean laundry etc)#my trademark reason for disliking things was that 'it was for babies'#yet when i wasn't being overprotected i was just... alone#i wasn't allowed outside so i sat and played videogames#i wasn't allowed to go places with friends so i sat alone at home#always always alone. unsupervised but always with the helicopter right around the corner ready to keep me in line#and then on the rare occasion i spent time with my dad he would guilt me for things my mom would make me do#mom wouldn't let me go on a walk without a water bottle and inhaler and dad would humiliate me for taking them#there was no way to win#abuse#personal#*sigh* i'm so glad i got out. so glad that shit is over and only in my nightmares#(and hoo boy is it in my nightmares)
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lebenspurpur · 3 years
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AN: Helloo, wrote this because I spent today suffering through my post-drunk-vandalism hangover. Guess it's deserved but still, it sucks. After eating chicken broth my dad made, unsalted if I may add, for an hour straight I am now ready to be creative. I really don't know what this is.
Have the link to my Larry playlist while we're at it:
Pairing: Larry Johnson x reader
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol
Wordcount: 1744 words
🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓
Larry looks really, really stupid right now. Stupid and sick.
His tall form slumped over in defeat, big blanket wrapped around him but not too tight, otherwise he'd feel too hot, too feverish, he still needs some air. There are tissues scattered across the couch as well. Fucking hell.
Usually, this would disgust you but it's Larry, you think you've seen worse.
Small sniffles come from where he's laying, whenever he clears his throat hoarse croaking leaves his mouth and he cringes every time he hears it. He can feel your judging gaze on his body, hear your arched eyebrow without even lifting his head.
His radio is blaring some kind of metal music, you don't recognize the band. Technically, the music is useless since the TV in front of Larry's bed is playing an old horror movie, bloody screams only adding to the grimy ambiance in the room.
"I-", you start but Larry lifts his hand before you can even consider continuing.
On any other occasion, you would've noticed the rings adorning his slender fingers, the metal accessories leaving a trail of dark smudge on his hands. Damn, did he have some nice hands.
Thankfully today wasn't a normal occasion. The metalhead in front of you had worse problems than you drooling over his fingers right now, one of them being the sickness he caught.
"Don't you dare say 'I told you so.'", he croaks out while he finally lifts his head, bloodshot eyes meeting yours. He looks immensely tired. You can sense his annoyance at this sickness, this hellish treatment he's in and can't seem to escape.
You take a deep breath in and drop your bag next to his opened front door.
"Alright. I won't."
You close the door quietly and deposit your jacket as well as boots next to it.
His mom always screams at Larry to finally get something for visitor's shoes and bags but he never does. Too busy, too lazy, he figures his visitors get it. Who even visits him, anyway?
The floor is, as usual, covered in stuff he hasn't cleaned yet. Unfinished drawings, sketchbooks, take-out cartons, empty booze bottles, you keep wondering how he manages to create that kind of mess in a timespan of not even two days.
You tiptoe over them, careful as to not to step into something. Earlier experiences have taught you to never mistake one of these seemingly empty cartons as really empty. Just last week you stepped into a fucking pizza the man in front of you didn't finish.
You sigh as you sit down next to him and Larry tiredly raises an eyebrow.
"Dude, I know you don't want to move but Jesus, we really need to get you to bed.", you then state, voice comforting yet firm. You use the moment to stare into his eyes, adore the brown, thick, deepness of them.
Larry groans loudly, voice breaking from how raw his throat is. His head falls back and he closes his eyes, a pained expression on his features.
"Don't wanna.", he grumbles quietly and you involuntarily crack a smile. Larry always managed to do that, even in the most unbelievable moments.
"I'll join you if you do."
One of his eyes slowly creaks open, observing your face to look for any kind of sarcasm or irony. As soon as he doesn't find any, the other eye opens as well and he leans forward again, blanket clutched tightly in his fists.
"Alright."
You grin at his quiet answer, hand reaching over to pull him with you. He obliges, warm, slightly clammy hand tightly grabbing yours. He follows you through the messy room, his blanket leaving a trail of destruction behind the two of you.
You kick open the door leading to his bedroom. Immediately, the familiar images of various album covers greet you. The air in his room is colder and less damp and you hear him take a deep breath.
Turning around, you mention for him to wait while you walk over, grabbing the blanket on his bed. You shake it a bit, readjust the sheets as well the pillow, all while Larry's eyes never leave your back.
"There you go, sweets.", you add as you finish, quickly turning around to see Larry standing the same way you've left him. Tired, slumped, and emotional. The need to hug him starts boiling inside of you but you try and hold yourself back. First, you have to make sure he gets into bed.
Larry slowly stumbles past you. During the last few baby steps, he drops the blanket around his shoulder, faceplanting right into the freshly made sheets. He's not even wearing a shirt and you huff at his stubbornness.
Larry's back looks strong like this, muscles contracting beneath his skin as he tries to get more comfortable. Your eyes glide over his spine, his wide shoulders, the small bumps where his ribs encase his organs. His olive skin is sweaty and long, brown hairs cling to it.
You cringe at that, knowing the feeling all too well.
Softly placing a hand on his back, you move closer, forehead scrunched together.
"Larry, darling."
He grunts into his pillow, a muffled questioning sound.
"I got a hair tie here. Mind lifting your head real quick?"
Larry obliges and lifts his head quickly, taking a deep breath while he does so.
Your fingers find his scalp and start collecting all the strands, securing them afterward with the tie around your wrist.
The man beneath you hums in appreciation as the cold air hits his neck, sweaty skin finally being able to breathe. You kiss the small space beneath his neck real quick, a short sign of comfort before you stand up again, hands leaving his skin.
Larry whines the second you do so, all while quickly turning around, sending you a pleading look.
"You said you'd stay.", the whiny tone only makes his voice sound more hoarse and you can't help the small grin from appearing on your features.
"In a second, sweetie. You need some water and medicine first, alright?"
He whines again but the thought of something fresh and cold going down his throat is enough to soften the pleading look in his eye. You blow him a kiss and then quickly walk into the kitchen, which is right across from the brunette's room.
It's surprisingly clean but what did you expect? Larry never uses his kitchen unless he has to. Which isn't all too often.
Grabbing a water bottle and placing it on the counter, you keep searching for the small broth packets you'd bought exactly for this kind of scenario. You find them in the fridge, the only thing in this room that Larry actually uses.
Chuckling you get some water cooking, all while pouring the powder into one of the giant cups Sal has gifted Larry a while ago. According to the masked man, everything tastes better if it's being eaten out of a cup and so, everyone has their own sets of cups, a premium gift from Sal Fisher.
Soon, everything's done and you maneuver your way back into Larry's room. Said man is awaiting you, eyes still opened as he watches you creep towards his bed, hands full with water, soup, and medicine.
First, you feed him the medicine. Normally he'd do this himself but you know that he'll just ignore the bitter juice unless you force it down his throat. Stubborn motherfucker.
Larry's sitting up now, back propped up against one of the many big pillows he has. You hand him the broth and he inhales it in less than two minutes, apparently, this is the first thing he's eaten today. Shaking your head at the thought, you tug a few strands of hair out of his face, smiling at your lover's appetite.
Finally, after gulping down half of the water bottle, the brunette leans back and smiles, for the first time this evening.
"Thank you.", he croaks out and you touch his arm as an appreciative gesture, "Does that mean you're allowed to join me now?"
You're about to nod as you notice the faint traces of eyeliner on his skin.
"Did you take off your makeup when you got home?", you ask, throwing a teasing smile his way.
Larry clears his throat, embarrassed that you caught him. A faint blush raises on his cheeks and you feel your heart swell at the sight.
"I might have forgotten about it.", he answers, gaze slowly meeting yours again, "But please, let's just do this later, dude. I am so fucking tired."
Huffing, you roll your eyes at his answer but you nod anyway. He'd be fine with the makeup for a few more hours. You just have to remember taking it off tomorrow.
"You're lucky I love you."
Larry grins at that, the usual wide, blinding grin, that makes your stomach tingle with fuzzy feelings inside of it. His fingers find your arm and he tenderly pulls you down to join him. Soon, your head is placed on his chest, and his arms cradle your shoulders, pulling you into his body.
You can hear his relaxed breathing as he finally settles down, nuzzling his face into your hair.
His skin is warm against your cheek and you smile into it. It doesn't matter how often you've done it, laying on his nude chest always makes you flustered.
Larry's fingers start to draw stuff on your back, the feeling more than a delight for you. Humming, you snuggle closer and the metalhead next to you smiles.
His eyes already start to close slowly, lack of sleep finally catching up to him. The quiet sound of the ongoing movie in his living room, as well as the metal music, make for a great background sound and you both listen intently.
You notice the way his heart beats, slow and steady, beneath the tanned skin. Unknowingly, you start to synchronize your breaths with his. In and out. In. And out.
Soon, your eyes close as well. Damn it, you don't want to fall asleep. Though, you suppose it doesn't matter as the man next to you pulls you closer, his breath warm against your ear. He wouldn't let you leave anyway.
The thought makes you feel giddy, excited, in love. Smiling widely, you try to press yourself closer into him, and soon, you too, fall asleep, enveloped by the arms of the boy you love most. Your favorite boy.
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gloomyhearts · 3 years
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Mellilla || Owen P. Joyner
Chapter five~ you haven't changed a bit
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Valerie sat on her bed while Dahlia searched through her closet.
"I don't know why you're doing this"
"I.. it's..just look at him," she toss a picture frame on her bed next to Valerie.
It was taken on his prom, he asked her to be his date really casual when they were sitting at the lake a few minutes of car drive.
She wore an emerald green long sleeve wrap dress and he a black suit with a tie in the same color as her dress. Some of the students asked if they'd be a couple, after frowning they denied.
"You kept this? Really D?"
"I look cute?" She shruggs her shoulder and continued to search for the best outfit.
She decides to wear her black flannel and a green pullover on top. Her black skinny jeans and high converse a must do.
"Okay you look stunning, babe."
"Thank you. Should I take a jacket?"
"Just in case" Dahlia grabs her jeans jacket. On the way to the door she also takes her keys and wallet.
"Does he gets you or.?"
"I'm driving myself." She shuts the door softly, making her way over to the car.
His mom didn't appreciate that he'd be spending a few days before Thanksgiving out. Even due to the fact that there's a pandemic going on.
The teenager planed on ordering their food, just one of them going into the restaurant and then they'd be driving to a park or similar to eat the delicious food.
Owen was on FaceTime with Charlie, Jeremy and Madison.
"And this?" He shows him his third outfit. Charlie groaned everytime he presented one.
On his upper body was a black long sleeve shirt with a white one which had the pizza planet logo, on top. A pink beanie suited his head, still some strands of his now ear long blond hair, fell out.
"This looks perfect Owen," Jeremy states and the other two nodded in agreement.
"Sure? Isn't this beanie too much?" He almost had his hand on it to remove it.
"Stop," his mother steps into his room, "that's great, hun," and then she left.
"I love your mom," Madison breaks the silence.
"Yeah, she's so awesome."
"Right." Owen rolled his eyes at his friends.
"And which jacket?" He had three on his arm.
"The black jeans."
"No. No the thick one to give her when she cold, " Jeremy suggests.
"But she'll have her own," Charlie argues.
"But girls wanna be stylish."
"And?"
"What does that mean, Jer. I'm offended." The group erupts in laughter.
"Well I'm the married one, trust me" he winked at him.
"Okay.. Okay," his voice shakes slightly.
"It's gonna be good, dude," Charlie sent him a resuring smile.
"Hopefully," he glimpses at his watch.
"Gotta go. Talk to you later," he waved at them and exits the call.
The young adults arrived at the same time at the diner. Afterwards it was dopey from Owen to let her driver here herself, he really regrets it.
They parked and Owen walked to her car. He held her the door open.
She's even more beautiful without her mask.
"Hey," he began.
"You already know what you want?" He stretches his neck avoiding her eyes.
"A grilled cheese sandwich. Please."
"Good choice. Something to drink?" She shakes her head pointing to a water bottle she had in her car. He gave her a thumbs up and walked into the diner.
Dahlia sat down in her car again resting her head against the backseat.
Owen knocked on her window raising the bag full of food into the air.
"It smells so delicious," she states as he enters her car.
Owen came up with the idea he could park his car here and she would drive them to the park.
"Can't wait to swallow it."
During the ride the radio played quietly a few songs from the charts but that bothered the two of them not really much.
They arrived at the park and exited the car. Soon they made their way over to a bench in the far back of it.
He hands her the sandwich and placed his fries in between their bodies.
She watched every move of him but as his graze fell on her she immediately turned away.
"Soo."
"Soo," a sad smile placed on her lips.
"What are you studying?" He took a bite of his burger.
"Environmental science is my major and classical Latin as minor."
"Environmental? That's fantastic," Owen states after swallowing his bite.
"Yeah. It's really interesting."
"And why did you chose it?"
"I want to make a change. When every single one of us starts by oneself we're able to change the behavior and turn the world a better place." He nods in agreement.
"That's great. I mean I think so too."
The pair both reached for a fries as their finger touch lightly. She swallowed the limp that formed in her throat and he cleared his, his hand slowly removing from her. The spot where the other touched them burned. Both longing to repeat it, holding it longer.
She felt his graze on her but she didn't dare to eye him.
"You still play volleyball?" She nodded her voice surely would fail.
"And the piano?" Dahlia shakes her head.
"Why?"
She inhales deeply.
"It just didn't felt right. Sometimes I played at some shows at school but since my graduation not once."
"More than a year, that's.. gosh!"
"It's indifferent. I've got impotence things to do."
"Right saving the world," he nudged her side as he let out a chuckle.
"Yeah. Yeah obviously," Dahlia stutters.
Her fragile body began to shake slightly, her jacket was obviously not thick enough.
"You're alright?" He looks down at her.
"Totally."
"Do you want my jacket?"
"If it's no trouble to you." a shy smile suited her lips as her eyes fell on him for the first time since they sat down. He looked he really cute with his beanie.
"You can wear mine if you wanna. Actually it's my brother's but he wouldn't mind." She raises her hand with the jacket to him. They exchanged them and dress themselves up.
Her hands curling around her middle, bringing the warm cloth near. Dahlia inhales his perfume deeply, the corners of her mouth lift up when the scent of wood meet her olfactory nerves. It was a long time since she smelt it the last time. Fun thing he never change the scent.
She sun began to set when they still sat on the bench, some pedestrians passed them, smiling at them.
"You wanna get some dessert?"
"I'd kill for." He raised up and hold his hand in front of her. Dahlia grabbed it hesitantly. Owen pulled her to her feet as well and intertwined their fingers together, she bit her her bottom lip, his touch causing butterflies in her stomach. He guided her towards the exit and to her car.
When they reached it he opened her door and she mumbles a quiet thanks.
She drove backto boomerangs so he could take his car and they'd meet ad Il dolce Gelato a few minutes away.
They met again in the parking lot and walked together into the shop.
"Hello," the waitress behind the tresen greats.
"Hey I'd like one scoop of raspberry and one of stracciatella, please," Dahlia 
"And you sir?" She asks as she hands Dahlia her order.
"Cappuccino and snickers please."
After receiving their order and paying they left and headed to their cars.
Owen opened his trunk door and sat down in it. He padded next to him for her to sit down as well.
"How can you eat cappuccino ice cream?" She knitted her brows watching him lick his scoop.
"Why not. It'd be better if it'd be coffee pur but they hadn't such a flavor," he laughed softly.
"You're strange." Dahlia chuckles.
"You're sure? The last time I checked you found it cute," her eyes wandered into the far.
"I didn't meant it like that, Lia." His left hand reaching for hers.
Her mood changed promptly, she draw from his touch.
"Sure." It was one word but it held so much emotions, anger, hurt, sadness, love.
She drags herself on her feet ready to step to her car but Owen's hand grabs hers.
"Hear me out, please." He stammers.
"Go ahead."
"I am.. I am sorry. I didn't wanted it to end like this... I didn't know what I'd do... I was overwhelmed by the whole situation," he stutters.
"Sorry doesn't fix everything. You didn't call. You didn't texted. Nothing. It was hurtful what you did. Didn't I mean anything to you cause the last time I checked I did, the exact day you just left. Spending time with me the day before so you don't have to say goodbye or what?!"
Owen opens his mouth but she continues.
"No, now it's my turn. I always wanted you to accomplish your dreams. I was your biggest fan until the day you left. Then you were dead to me. And now..." she inhales sharply.
"After three.. three damn years you show up out of nowhere thinking everything is allright between us," she points to her and then him.
"I just want this pain to be over." Her eyes welled up.
Dahlia opens the driver door, excepting to speak up but he never did so she enters her car.
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jlpat82 · 6 years
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Not Out Home
Prologue/Chapter 1
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A hundred years ago the human race did the unspeakable, bombs were dropped. Most of the population wasn't prepared for it and millions died as a result. The entire top side of the planet was laid to waste, the land is barren. Constant blowing of hot radioactive winds whip up dust and sand, changing the landscape year by year with large sand dunes. Storms are a constant reminder that our ancestors messed up, these storms drop acidic rain on the soil contaminating it further. Everything that society had known, had become accustomed to was gone in the blink of an eye. Life as they knew it, gone.
You're probably wondering how I know all of this. A small sect of the government foresaw the dropping of the bombs and acted accordingly. They built large complexes made of reinforced materials, not only to withstand the blast but also the inevitable fallout. Small buildings out cropped amongst the wasteland of a landscape. Connect by tunnels underground, and tubes above ground. These tubes are serviced every four years by volunteers, as the blowing sand weakens the tubes reinforced plexiglass. Last year was the last fix year.
I was born in one of these complexes seventy years after the bombs stopped. Growing up in school we learned what life used to be like, what the trees looked like. We learned about the animals that inhabited our planet, what day to day activities those before us did. What I'd give to have been alive during that time. To feel a fresh breeze on my face, to put my feet in a stream.
Everything is recycled, the air that is pushed through our ventilation system is recycled, as is our water. It's collected, purified, and rebottled. And don't get me started on the food.
Why does any of this matter you ask? Well, as a dreamer of times gone by I take the long route wherever I go. I walk through the plexi tubes, staring out imagining what it would be like to take a step out there.
When I saw human foot prints on the outside of the tube and large hand prints on the side I was a little more then startled. We have been told time and time again how toxic the air is outside the walls of our compound. Nothing is said to be able survive out there without the proper suits, even then four hours tops.
Chapter 1
I watched as the sands swirled in and around the steps, slowly covering them. They were definitely human, and large at that. Whoever had made them must have been heavy as the prints themselves were deep. I raised my hand to compare the handprint to mine. My hand was dwarfed by the size and I am no small woman.
I stepped back, dumbfounded, here was someone's feet and hand prints but I saw nothing leading to them or away. It was like they had materialized and vanished back into thin air. I surveyed the tan landscape before me, nothing out of place. Slowly I turned and continued my short walk to work
I work at store the sells the staples of life, preprocessed dinners in four flavors. These bricks came in chicken, beef, pork, and what's that. It's something you just can't quite put you're finger on. Some people say it taste like lamb, others say fish, hence the reason I call it what I do. None of us alive today have tasted true lamb or fish, then again we have never tasted beef, pork, or chicken either.
We also sell bottled water, and a lot of it. Our store also sells clothing, all identical. The same black pants and a polo that comes in four colors, dusty grey, dull blue, dark sand, and white.
When I say our life is boring that is no understatement.
"Julianne, you're late!" Elise, my coworker and best friend stumbled through her whispered words. "You're like never late."
"I was walking the tubes." I caught sight of my boss out of the corner of my eye, so I quickly shut myself up.
"Julianne!" He bellowed, waddling over on short stubby legs. His hair combed over his balding crown. When I said our food was crap I wasn't referring to everyone, just us in lower class. "This is the only warning I'll give, don't not be late again or I'll have them reassign you to the factories."
Elise and I watched as he grabbed a box off the table to our left. He tucked it under his short arm, resting it against one of his rolls. He turned and toddled back to the front of the store favoring his right foot.
"One day I hope he chokes on a sandwich." Elise hissed, crossing her arms.
"Most likely a stroke or a heart attack." I replied, walking into the stockroom. When I said earlier about the whole bricks coming in four flavors that only goes for lower class, like Elise and I. Fat cats like my boss, Robert, are considered upper class. They have a wider variety of foods to chose from.
He was from a wealthy back ground. His grandparents were some kind of oil tycoons before the bombs dropped and they paid a pretty penny to get in the complex. Which pretty much cemented him into a life of luxury. He can go places only other upper class can go. Places I could only dream of.
"Yeah, but choking on a sandwich would not only be far more entertaining but a fitting death as well. Anyway back to your tube story." We loaded a dolly full of boxes with the same dull clothes we were wearing.
"Right, the tube. It's was weird, I saw handprints on the side and foot prints on the ground. But there wasn't any leading to or away from the spot. Like they were dropped there and sucked back into whatever black hole they came from."
"And?" She asked excitedly, I met her eyes. I've been known to make up stories of the could of, would of, should of beens.
"I'm serious, this isn't a story." Fictional books have all been banned. The elites are worried that it'll implant ideas in the lower class that it's safe outside. Thus leading them to opening the compound doors. Not going to lie, I may or may not have a few illegal copies.
"You know as well as I do nothing survives out in that wasteland." She sighed, folding some shirts as she put them on the table.
"But what if something could? It would mean everything everyone knows is wrong."
"Would it be awesome? Certainly, cause no more Pudgy McPudgerson ruling over our lives but it's just not possible. The air is radioactive, so it can't breathe. The water is toxic, so it can't drink and nothing grows out there so no food." She shook her head, blonde hair whipped about. "The outside cannot sustain any kind of life."
"But what if they're wrong? What if they just think the air is still bad?"
"Jules, you go topside, you've seen the Geiger meter."
"Yes, I know and the numbers have never changed. What if it was damaged by the sands, and it's been broken this whole time?" I replied in a hushed tone as someone passed behind us.
"I'm sure they have someone who does maintenance on it, just like the tubes."
"I've been walking the tubes since I was ten. I've seen the crews six times fixing them and not once have I seen anybody doing work on the meter." Grabbing her by the shoulders, I looked her dead in the eye. "Something or someone was out there."
"Okay, fine, I'll humor you. So someone was out there. Where did they go? You said you saw no other prints. So where did they go?" Dang it, she had a point. I let her go, letting out a deep sigh. I felt my shoulders sag. "I don't mean to be mean, but, think about this logically?"
"You're right. It must have been a figment of my imagination." I dropped it, I knew I couldn't make a good point, at least not logically.
The rest of the day was spent stocking shelves and me trying to wrap my brain around the prints. Maybe I had been seeing things earlier or could the wind have displaced the sands to resemble foot prints. That wouldn't account for the handprints on the glass though. The last fix was just over a year ago, surely those would of been washed off in the rain. Then again could the gloves from the protective suits even make hand prints.
I was still deep in thought as I reached my locker. Absentmindedly I retrieved my jacket from it's depths.
"Earth to Jules." Elise waved her hand in front of my face.
"Huh? Sorry, I was thinking."
"Are you taking the tunnels home?" She enquired grabbing her purse.
"Not tonight, I'm going to take the tube back."
"Is that even safe?" Her brows knitted together as her voice raised a notched. There have been rumors of criminal activity that happens in the tubes at night. I have never seen it personally, nor have I ever met anyone who has been attacked either. Normally I don't take them at night, there aren't any lights in them so when the moon is gone or a storm rolls in it's pitch black.
"I'll be fine. Anyway, I'm running low on fare." I responded, shutting my locker. We walked to the front of the store together, Elise shook her head.
"I can spot you, I really don't like the idea of walking them at night." She paused, I turned to my friend, her face was etched with worry.
"Really, I'll be fine."
"Fine, since I can't get you to change your mind, will you at least call me when the home? Just so I won't stay up half the night worrying."
"Okay, mom." I teased, I pushed the door handle to the tube entrance as we parted ways.
I stepped out into the darkness, I inhaled a deep breath. Calmly I started my journey home, my foot steps echoing off the walls. I could hear the faint whisper of the sands as they whipped across the plexiglass. The path before me barely illuminated by the small sliver of moonlight that peaked around the edge of the clouds that were slowly rolling in.
I pulled my pepper spray from my pocket, yet another illegal item that I had acquired. The things you can get your hands on when you know the right people. I had only recently started carrying it after Robert had made a pass at me. He didn't like my response to his advances.
Slowly the tube began to darken completely. It didn't take long before I was surrounded by the inky blackness of the night. I took a slow breath trying to still my heart rate.
There is something about walking in the darkness that preys on your subconscious. Makes you aware of stuff that isn't really there. You see and hear things that aren't real , it's almost like it's hardwired into our DNA. Pareidolia, that's the name for it. Seeing a face in the curtains or hearing a phone ring while the shower is running.
I thought I saw something out of there as I continued walking through the tube. Whatever it was it was a good distance out, it might have been the silhouette of person I really couldn't be sure. Whatever it was, it seemed to be keeping pace with me.
I stopped, my heart slowly accelerating, as I took step to the tube wall. I pressed my face to the cool glass and wrapped my hands around my temples. Nothing just a dark void of nothingness was on the other side.
I had to have been seeing things. If it was out there, it had stopped moving and was no longer visible. I heard a plink on the ceiling of the tube, quickly succeeded by other. I couldn't see, but I knew it had started to rain. I dropped my arms to side and sighed.
I continued my walk home, my fingers gracing the cold glass for guidance. I listened to the song of the rain as it cascaded down from the heavens. Wondering if the droplets were cold or warm. A green bolt danced lazily across the sky. In that flash, I stopped dead in my tracks. The silhouette was still out there, parallel with me, I saw it just out of the corner of my eye.
Thunder rolled, as my heart leapt in my throat threatening jump from my body. My hand tremble against the wall, I knew I saw it. My mind was not playing tricks on me, something was out there. Another green flashed etched itself through the clouds, he was closer this time. He was watching me.
I took a deep breath as the air crackled with a loud rumble. I braced myself, willing myself not tremble as I again stepped up to the tube wall. I placed my shaking hands on the wall completely as I turned.
The sky lit up again, and he was standing before me on the opposite side of the glass. His dark brown hair hung just short of his massive shoulders, stringy from the rain. Mahogany eyes bore down upon me with curiosity. The thunder reverberated through the tube before the lighting had stopped.
It is at this point I wish I could say I stood transfixed, and excitedly watched the watcher watching me. Alas, I did what any normal, healthy person would do. I stumbled back screaming, losing my footing in the process and landed on my rear.
In hindsight, this was not the smartest thing I have ever done. Remember earlier how I said I could hear my own footsteps as I walked? Well, if you have stuck your head in a enclosed glass box and screamed you would know that that amplifies the sound.
Needless to say, my ears were ringing as I sprang to my feet and rushed down the hall. It was disorienting, running in complete darkness with a lazy green strobe light going off. I tripped a couple of time, my heart hammering hard in my chest, attempting to break free. Too scared to turn around to see if he was still there, I ran full speed down the enclosed corridor.
I didn't realize how far down the tube I was, but when my face greeted the door I figured out I must of been half through by the time I saw him. In retrospect, I'm really surprised I didn't knock myself out.
I threw the door open to my building and sprinted up the four flights of stairs. I pulled my keys from my pocket as I reached my apartment, the key shook in my trembling fingers. Finally I was able to get it in the lock. I turned the knob, threw open my door and slammed it behind me. I turned the thumb lock, re-locking the door behind me.
My lungs burned with that raw feeling as I sucked in air. My chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. I have no idea why I ran for my life, it's not like he could get in the building. All doors to the outside were locked and secured, there was no way in.
"What the heck Julianne?" My sister, Sasha, came bounding around from the kitchen to the living room.
"There was," I took a deep breath, locking eyes with confused woman. "Someone out there."
"Uh, yeah, that's what happens when you go to work. There's lost of someones." She smirked, leaning against the wall.
"No, outside." I rushed the window looking down, lighting lit up the sky but the ground was to far away to make anything out.
"Yeah, as I said there are people outside as rule." She jested, watching me in amusement.
"No, I mean outside outside. Not out side our place." I almost shriek, point out the window. "Out there!"
"What?" She rushed over the window, peering out. She turned and looked me, her eyes narrowed as her brows scrunched up. "I don't see anything, I think you hit you head to hard."
"No, I saw him first, then I hit my head."
"Oh, so now it's him?" She grinned, folding one arm over the other.
"Look, I saw foot prints this morning, on the outside of the tube." I stressed the second half of that statement before she could make another joke out of it. "And now I've seen him. How is this possible?"
"It's not, are you sure you saw someone? It's really dark out there." Her face was puzzled at my indignation, I didn't blame her. What I was saying didn't make any sense.
"I saw him when the lighting was going off, not just once or twice but three times. And one of those times he was as close me as you are." I looked back out the window, trying to wrap my mind around the whole ordeal. The phone rang somewhere behind me as I scoured the ground.
"Hey Elise." I heard Sasha in the kitchen. "She's home. And going on about some guy she saw outside the tube.'
'I know, I know. I'm still trying to calm her down right now. She's shaken up pretty good at the moment." I glanced over my shoulder at my sister, sighing heavily. I gave up and wandered back to my bedroom. Trying to explain this to either of them wasn't going to work.
I laid down on my bed, staring up at the white ceiling. His face flashed through my mind. He seem just a surprised to see me as I was of him. I know one thing, I was going to walk the tubes tomorrow to find him again, even if the meant all day
Permanent tag-
@kitkatkl @devilbat
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bakugou-ou · 7 years
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I know how you said you wouldn't do the bakugou angst part 2 but can your pretty please with a smol deku on top with a almight onesie on do a part 2. I've probably read it like 7 times. Pleaaaaassee consider it~💓💓 p.s you are a really good writer
You and literally 56 other anons, cause I’m assuming you’re all different people lol, have requested a part 2 to the Bakugou bet angst, so here it is. Part one can be found here! Also, asdfghjkl thank you, you’re too nice. I’m mediocre at best ;~; 《Part Three》
I originally really didn’t want to do this, but the idea of having Baks with his mom got to me, and I felt bad about being so inactive on here… And then I was like, fuck it, I love Masaru too, I want both of his parents comforting him.
It’s less angsty, and more parenting fluff/comfort, but there’s not really a happy ending in this for my main boy. I hope you enjoy this! I may do a part three if people want to see the former couple interacting, but I can tell you right now that it won’t be a happy ending where everything is fixed and they get back together, it wouldn’t feel right, and I love inflicting pain on my favorite son; 2,667 words of Bakugou and his parents going through his first heartbreak, oh boy.
Mitsuki Bakugou arrived at UA half an hour after getting offthe phone with her distraught son Katsuki. He’d called her twice, begging herto hurry up because he was having a hard time trying to keep his shit together.She loved her son, but everyone went through heartbreak at some point in theirlife, and it was his turn that day. She had called her husband, Masaru, andtold him to come home from work early so that they could be there for theirson, and she had called the school to tell them she was taking her son home forthe day and that he’d be back in time for classes the following day. She neededto take care of her son, he couldn’t be left there like that, not until he’dfigured everything out.
When she pulled up by the school, Katsuki was standinginside the school gates, accompanied by Kirishima, his best friend. She rolleddown the window of the car and leaned out, “Katsuki! Let’s go!”
Katsuki was relieved to see his mother, but it also sentanother wave of agony through him as Kirishima started to walk him to the car.He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and bit down hard on his lip to keephimself from crying, trying not to seem like such fucking baby in front of hismother or his best friend. He was thankful for Kirishima walking him outthough, knowing that what had happened in the kitchen wasn’t his fault, Kirishima had been defending the relationship andhis feelings for his— no, not girlfriend, not anymore; ex-girlfriend. He rippedthe rear driver’s side door open and fell into the backseat, unable to look atKirishima or his mother.
“Thank you for walking him out, Kirishima-kun.” Mitsuki saidsweetly to the redhaired boy.
“No problem, Ma’am.” Kirishima replied, smilinglyapologetically to her before turning his attention to Katsuki, “It’s gonna beokay, Bakugou, you’ll figure this out.”
Kirishima made sure his friend was all the way in the carbefore shutting the door, and he stood watch as the car pulled away from the curband headed to wherever they were going.
Almost as soon as Kirishima had shut the door and he had puthis seatbelt on, Katsuki was doubled over in his seat, crying again. It waspathetic, he was back to a sniveling mess just as soon as he’d come out ofbeing one. He’d only managed to put himself together long enough to hear Kirishimaproperly explain the Baku Squad’s side of things, and to leave the dormitory.It had been easy to leave, he wanted to leave, he needed to get out of there,and she wasn’t around, holed up inher own room, so that made it easier to get away.
“So, you wanna give me a quick rundown of what happened, ordo you wanna wait until we get home?” Mitsuki asked her son, though she figuredit would probably be the latter, “Your dad is on his way home, too.”
“You told the Old Man too?” Katsuki asked, groaning as hisfingers found their way into his ash blond locks, gripping horribly tight ontohimself.
“We’re your parents, we’re worried about you. And you’re amess.” Mitsuki responded, glancing back in the rear view mirror and seeing herson crumpled up with his hands pulling at his hair, “Tell you what, I’ll makeakaton miso ramen and you can have as much of it as you want, I’ll even makethose spicy croquet you like so much. It’s been a while since you’ve been home…”
Katsuki was, apart from the sobbing, silent for the rest of theride back to his family home; it had been months since the last time he’d beenhome for more than an hour or two, and this was not the ideal circumstance tobe back under. His father got home before the two of them did, and was waitingat the front door for them when they walked up. Katsuki knew better than toslam the car door, his mother would yell at him about not breaking shit thatdidn’t belong to him, so he closed it with the most normal amount of force hecould manage before stomping off into the house, past his father who ruffledhis hair. The two adults lingered in the doorway and whispered something toeach other, something he didn’t hear nor cared to hear, and then followed himin. He threw himself down on couch that faced the front door, where his fatherhad already left him a large bottle of water.
Mitsuki finished cooking the meal that Masaru had started,with him staying in the living room with their son to keep an eye on him.Katsuki stopped crying, at least until lunch was ready, but then he went andlooked at his phone, it had gone off with another text from her, even worse than the other one he’dgotten while still in the dormitory, locked in his room; now everyone is mad at me!Fuck you, you didn’t even like me, and now you’re trying to make me look like the bad guy?! You’re theone who’s shit here, Bakugou, you’re the one who asked me out with no intentionof ever liking me back! God, you’re the worst! Some fucking hero you are.
With that, his phone was chucked hard at the ground, thescreen cracking as it hit the wooden floor and skidded a couple of feet to thekitchen entrance. Masaru leaned down and grabbed the phone, looking over thetext message that had just sent his son into another sobbing fit. He didn’tlike this girl, not with the way she was talking to him. Maybe that was justhim being a parent, being biased towards his son, but she sounded nasty, and itwas probably for the best that they’d broken up that early on, but it was awfulto see Katsuki torn up like that. He scrolled up and saw the first message, theone where she dumped him. It was long, angry, full of things that were very,very low blows, that he knew would get far too deep under his son’s skin,especially coming from this girl. A girl he’d been looking forward tointroducing to them, that he’d told them all about. They knew how much he lovedher, even if he’d gone about it in a very strange, somewhat poor way.
Masaru sighed, putting the phone down on the coffee tablebefore sitting down on the couch next to his son and putting his arm over hisshoulders. He brought Katsuki close to him, rubbing his arm and letting Katsukilean into him. Normally Katsuki only ever let his mother comfort him like that,but in that moment, it didn’t matter which parent tried to make him feelbetter, he just needed help. So, his father soothed him as his mother watchedfrom the kitchen doorway, looking at the two of them, such different peoplefrom each other despite the smaller one being half of herself and the otherone. A few minutes later, they moved into the kitchen, and Katsuki ate what hecould in silence, enjoying his mother’s cooking for the first time in twomonths. His head was splitting from all the crying, he was dehydrated, and hewas exhausted.
“So, Kid, let���s talk about this.” Mitsuki said as Katsukiset his empty bowl down on the table and wiped his mouth with his forearm. Shedidn’t bother scolding him about his manners, not with him in as fragile acondition as he was in, “What happened?”
“Kirishima said that everyone was in the kitchen talkingabout us, and how everything had turned out great… I didn’t like her at first,it was a stupid bet, but I ended up reallyliking her… So that’s when I decided to actually ask her out, cause I likedher, and everything’s been great, but she only heard the part about it being abet,” Katsuki began, putting his face in his hands and letting out a groan ofdispleasure, “Of course she wouldn’t fucking listen to me, she was pissed, andthat’s fine, I’d be pissed too if I were in her shoes, but she wouldn’t even talkto me about shit, wouldn’t even let me explain…”
Mitsuki got out of her seat and walked to her son, putting ahand gently on his spiky blond hair, petting him and letting him lean into heras he tried to continue explaining the situation without crying again. Neitherof his parents wanted to tell him how stupid that sort of thing was, but theyboth knew how sincere he was about his feelings, they knew this wasn’t just himbeing upset he’d been caught doing something stupid, he was genuinelyheartbroken. He couldn’t keep himself from crying as he continued.
“She wouldn’t… She wouldn’t talk to me, she said she wished she’d never met me, that I was theworst thing that… Ever happened to her!” He inhaled sharply after saying that,his lip quivering as he tried to stop himself from sobbing outright, “I wentback to my room, a-and I fucking cried, a ton, and then she… She dumped me, ina fucking text! And she… Said allsorts of really awful shit, and… I don’t wanna go back, Mom, don’t make me goback!”
Katsuki broke down, clinging to his mother and crying intoher stomach as she hugged him back; the last time they’d seen him like this waswhen he got back from being kidnapped by the League of Villains, and even then,he kept it to himself, waiting until he was alone in his room, refusing toshare the burden of his feelings with them. He was learning and growing, theyknew it, and they appreciated him opening up, even if it was because everythingwas just too much for him to bear on his own that afternoon.
Masaru left the two of them to retrieve the phone and showMitsuki the text messages that Katsuki had been talking, and once she was donereading, she knelt in front of her son and took his puffy, reddened,tear-stained face in her hands and forced him to look her in the eyes.
“Do you really like that girl?” She asked, to which heresponded with a nod and a choked sob, “Do you want to be with her still?”
The question hit him hard; did he? She’d said some reallyfucked up shit, stuff that was totally uncalled for in his opinion. And he knewshe was mad, that’s why she’d said it, but she kept laying it on, piling theinsults higher and higher, and then there was the most recent message. Hereally liked her, but she was hurting him so damn bad. He knew she felt likeshit, but he wouldn’t have ever talked to her the way she talked to him, evenwith as pissed off as he could be. She had been his girlfriend, he would nevertalk to her like that…
“I-I don’t know…” He mumbled, blinking to clear his eyes ofsome tears that had formed, “She hates me.”
“Maybe she does, but do you wanna be with someone who talksto you like that, and turns your biggest insecurities on you like that?”Mitsuki asked, brushing the spikes framing his face behind his ear, lookinginto those distressed crimson eyes that had come from her. “You’re not perfect,you’ve made a lot of mistakes, but you’re my son, and I don’t want you bendingyourself this far out of shape over someone who clearly has no control overtheir emotions. You already have enough of a problem with that on your own, youdon’t need a psycho girlfriend.”
Masaru disagreed slightly with his wife’s analysis of thesituation, but he wasn’t going to say anything; he did, however, agree with herthat their son shouldn’t hope for this relationship to work out, especially ifshe talked like that. The girl seemed to be the type that purposefully lookedfor flaws and brought them out to hurt people when they were at their worst formaximum damage. Katsuki was already a relatively unstable person as it was, hedidn’t need to deal with someone else’s issues at the same time.
“But I really like her! I was… I was really happy!” Katsuki objected, crying harder.
“You fucked up, Kid, and she showed her true colors. It’snot a good spot for either of you, I think you should both part ways. That’sthis Old Bat’s opinion, as someone who has been where you are quite a fewtimes, and been where she is a few times too.” Mitsuki responded, wiping awayhis tears with her thumbs, “You’re gonna keep making mistakes and learning, andyou’ve got your whole life ahead of you to date other people, she’s not the onlyperson out there. Someday you’re gonna find someone that’s not going to tearyou down when you do something that upsets them, that is gonna believe that youreally do love them. You’ll find someone that’s for you like Dad is for me,Katsuki, it’s not the end of the world, even if it feels like it right now.”
Katsuki listened to everything she said, knowing she wasright, but it didn’t make him feel any better; both his parents knew that itwouldn’t, but they needed to tell him anyway.
“T-Thanks, Baba…” Katsuki mumbled, hugging her as his fatherwalked over and rubbed his back.
“For what it’s worth, I agree with your mom on most of that.The choice is up to you, but it’s probably for the best if you and that girl goseparate ways.” Masaru said quietly.
Katsuki continued to cry into his mother’s shoulder; itreally was shit, he hated it, he didn’t want to go back to school and have todeal with her. Not yet. Fortunately for him, though, he was staying overnightat home. He had the whole night to spend with his parents, or by himself, doingwhatever he wanted, and he’d go back to the school in the morning, after havingsome time to calm down and rest…  But,first, he needed a new phone, since the other one was broken.
Masaru took the phone to the nearest shop and got it swappedfor a newer, nicer model from the same line, one that Katsuki had been savingup for, and made sure that all of his data got switched over to the new phone.Katsuki spent a lot of time going through and deleting things that reminded himof her, like their texts, and pictures he had of her. He changed his phonebackground from her to a picture of the view from the beach park nearest wherehe lived. It was a nice shot, it complimented the color of his new phone.
He spent most of his time alone in his bedroom that night,napping off all the emotions he’d spent, and coming down to have dinner withhis parents, who did a great job of keeping him distracted by talking abouttheir jobs. He liked hearing about their work, even if he had no interest ingoing into it. After dinner, the three of them settled onto the couch in theliving room for a family movie night, they watched several movies, all of whichKatsuki picked, and all three of them fell asleep together on the couch.Katsuki’s head rested on his mother’s chest, his legs draped over his father’slap; it was like he was a little kid again, only much, much larger than he hadbeen the last time they’d all been like that. His parents were glad that hewas, for the time being, okay. The second he needed them again, they’d be rightthere; that’s what parents are for.
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