#no sad sappy music at my funeral

[curiositydooropened]

Merry Christmas, Max

Max gets a ride home from Steve on Christmas Eve 1985.

Pairing: Max crushing on Steve, a bit of implied Steve x Nancy

Wordcount: 3630

Warnings: just sad, panicky Max stuff

No Tag List, please follow my library!

A/N: I wrote most of this like two years ago and have been trying to finish it and get it posted. So rereading it post-s4 made me really happy with a lot of the character decisions I made. Hope you enjoy as much as I did! Happy Christmas in July!

Masterlist • Library • Ao3

Christmas at the Wheeler’s, like most things at the Wheeler’s, looked like Max had stepped onto the set of one of those old fashioned, sappy holiday musicals her mom sobbed to every year. Everything was lit up, technicolor, glossed over with a rosy glow. The fireplace was lit and stoked. Five perfect, store-bought stockings hung among the boughs of holly, just under an array of Sears-booth photographs. A large tree was adorned to the tip top with tinsel and real glass ornaments. All the presents beneath glistened under gold lamé bows. 

Max almost didn’t want to unwrap hers. She wanted to pull the Scotch tape as carefully as she could to keep the paper prestine. Her own presents, comic books she’d paid for with scrounged arcade change, were haphazardly taped brown parcels, carefully tied with string. Their Christmas budget was low, Mom said, because of funeral costs. They were still recovering.

Mike had gotten her a really nice sweater, which was thoughtful, too thoughtful. And Lucas got pissed until Mike explained that El had picked it out, and she’d be wearing a matching one in California. Lucas got Max a framed photo of himself, the idiot. 

After presents, they enjoyed some punch and took turns on the Atari until the front door opened with a gust of cool air, and two more guests tumbled in, stomping the snow from their boots onto the entry rug. 

“Mike!?” Nancy called through the house, but she needn’t look far to see the motley crew huddled in their Christmas sweaters in front of the television. Dustin and Mike were jamming their joysticks. Lucas sat on the couch beside Max, making her too warm and itchy with his arm wrapped over her shoulder. 

“What!?” Mike yelled back, not seeing his sister’s entrance. 

“I’m home.” Nancy was breathless, from the cold or something else, Max wasn’t sure, but the older girl’s cheeks and nose were pinched pink, and she had the start of icicles in her hair. She was out there a while. “Hi, Max,” she smiled, holding up a small hand to wave.

Max nodded a hello.

“You guys get enough to eat? Where’s Holly?” She looked around the small room for her littlest sister. 

The familiar sound of a knock out called from the television, and Dustin tossed his joystick in a fit of slander and rage. Mike raised two fists in the air, triumphant, before focusing in on the annoyed teen in the room. “Shit, what?” He blinked.

“Seriously, Mike!?” Nancy huffed in retreat. They heard her footsteps hurdle up the staircase. “Holly!?!” 

Max felt a twinge of panic, wondered if the rest of them prickled at the idea of a missing child. Maybe it affected them worse than her, she never knew. She hadn’t recalled seeing Holly all evening. Somewhere between the cookies and punch, maybe? When the kitchen bustled with bodies and Mrs. Wheeler smacked lips to Mike’s obstinant cheek as she and Mr. Wheeler swept off to their evening’s party. 

Reluctantly, Mike stretched his long limbs from his cross-legged position on the floor and followed his older sister to investigate upstairs. Lucas, seeing an opening, found his spot beside Dustin on the living room floor. 

Suddenly feeling antsy and alone, Max relieved herself and headed toward the kitchen, mumbling something about punch. Really, she wanted a better vantage of the staircase and the front door, in case something were to go awry. In the kitchen, she knew she could arm herself. She passed the entry way, a stacked flurry of puffer jackets, and her socks dampened beneath the run-off of wet snow boots. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but continued to pad her path, peeking up the staircase for any indication of the little girl’s safety.

Max’d craned her neck so far to see up the stairs that by the time she wheeled her focus to the kitchen, she’d nearly run smack into the side of Steve Harrington, who now stood draped against the Wheeler’s island, mouth full and second Christmas cookie in hand. “Whey, Mah-,” he greeted, crumbs coating a bright blue puffer vest. He waved.

Max clutched at her chest and shook her head, moving to fill a plastic cup with punch. “Hi, Steve. What’re you doing here?” She half-paid attention to her actions, taking the new vantage point to look toward the blue staircase. 

“I’m here to take Dustin home.” Steve gestured in Dustin’s vague direction with the cookie in his hand. “Is your mom coming?”

Where were the Wheelers? The hallway upstairs remained dimly lit. It seemed like Mrs. Wheeler had changed the wallpaper again, something more with-the-times. At least the lighting remained stable, no blinking, no changes. The air in the kitchen felt warm, too hot, except Max’s hand. Why would her hand be cold?

Her eyes flicked focus to her freezing hand to watch bright red punch spill over the full cup and back into the punch bowl. “Shit!” She dropped the ladle and carefully dumped punch out of her cup, standing on tiptoe to avoid spillage onto her hand-knit Christmas sweater. 

“Pour much?” Steve snorted. 

“Shove it, asshole,” Max sneered, setting her cup down to find one of Mrs. Wheeler’s hand towels to dry the liquid.

Steve had found it already, in anticipation for the spill, and he handed it over with a grin, using his dry, but freezing, fingers to roll up Max’s sleeve. His hands were bright red, and cold, as though he’d been outside for hours. With warmth filling her cheeks, Max mumbled a thanks and avoided glancing back up at him while she dried off. Her fingers remained sticky at the joints.

“God, Mike, you’re such a freak,” Nancy hissed at the top of the stairs. Her not-so-little brother slunk behind her, all limbs and shrugged shoulders.

“Shut up,” a small smirk met his thin lips, but he halted at the landing, bushy eyebrows furrowed into the signature Mike Wheeler grimace. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Steve rolled his eyes and reached for a third sugar cookie. He leaned once more against the counters to behead Santa before saying, “shut up, dickhead.”

Mike just rolled his eyes and followed Nancy to the kitchen to grab a handful of salted nuts.

“Was Holly okay?” Max asked softly, slipping her upper lip over the rim of her cup to slurp the excess punch from the top. It was sweet, but the fizz had flattened from hours laying stagnant in a warm house. 

“Oh yeah, she’d crashed while playing Barbies.” Nancy smiled softly, cornering a star between dainty eye teeth. “God, those were the days, weren’t they?”

Max hummed a smile, chest loosening in relief. She’d never had Barbies growing up, well, one or two, because Mom wanted her to, but she was always more into skinning her knees and jamming buttons at the arcade. 

A cry of victory shook the house from the family room, and Mike quickly hurried off to congratulate the winner, or take his turn, and Max took a deep breath before deciding if she wanted to follow. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was getting late, and if she wanted to make it home by curfew, she should probably get going soon. At least, if Neil was sober and awake, which was more and more unlikely nowadays. 

“Steve,” Nancy gasped, covering a chuckle with the back of her hand. “You’ve got… tree…” She laughed and reached to pull an assortment of twigs from Steve Harrington’s famous brown locks. His dark eyes screwed upward to watch the action, and upon noticing the culprit, he quickly checked his hair with his hands. His immediate panic sent Nancy into a fit of giggles.

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes, but Max noticed the fondest of smiles breech the corners of his pink lips. He watched Nancy laugh before lifting a hand to her curls. “Shit, you do too.” He snorted and pulled some juniper from her hair as well.

The room felt very tight, like all of the air had been sucked from it. The last laugh fell from Nancy’s lips, and Max held her breath simultaneously, too embarrassed to make a noise. She watched Steve’s hand pick at twigs and berries, and the items pebbled on the linoleum at their socked feet.

His hands were big, overtaking Nancy’s petit face and frame, as they ghosted her cheek and neck and arm, and finally fell to his sides. Max could feel herself trembling, curiosity fluttering somewhere in her stomach, wondering if Steve’s hand would feel the same as Lucas’s in hers, or if it was tougher, more experienced. She wondered how she’d feel tucked under one of his arms on the couch, the way she had been with Lucas. She wondered if she’d feel stuffy and hot, or comfortable, safe. 

“Max,” Steve’s voice snapped her out of it, and she felt her face flood with heat. She darted her eyes around the room, trying to look anywhere but him until she realized he’d address her.

“Huh?” She cleared her throat. “What?”

“Is your mom coming to get you?”

It took her a few moments to realize what he was asking, while her brain switched gears. She shook her head, taking another sip of punch. “Mmm, no. She’s at the party too. I’m going to skate home.”

“Uh, no you’re not.” Steve shook his head.

“What?”

“It’s a friggin’ blizzard outside, shit brains. I’ll give you a ride home.”

“I’ll be fine, asshole,” Max rolled her eyes, but her confidence waned as she glanced toward the blackness of the kitchen window. The corners of it were illuminated with a fresh dusting of snow. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Whatever. When’s your curfew?” Steve asked.

Max stared back at the clock on the wall. “Half hour?”

Steve ran a hand through his mane. “Shit. Fine. Go grab Dustin, let’s go.” 

With a huff of obstinance, Max tipped the rest of her punch into the sink and tossed her cup into the quickly-filling garbage can. She tried not to notice Nancy hadn’t moved from her close proximity to Steve. She tried not to notice the looks the older two were giving each other as she left the room. She tried not to notice the pang of jealousy she felt as she moved out of eye sight. 

She thought of turning back, of peeking through the slats in the banister and catching a secret moment, but she thought better of it and made a mental note to tell El tomorrow. She gathered her bag of presents and peeled Dustin’s gaze from the television long enough to help him do the same. Her mind lingered on the teens in the kitchen, wondering if love got easier or harder the older she got.

Lucas kept his untrained eyes on the television, jamming buttons while his girlfriend and best friend made for the entry way to begrudgingly pull damp snowshoes on over wool socks. Max perched herself on the bottom step and yawned through the first boot. She glanced sideways to see the older teens entering from the kitchen. Steve pulled his jacket from the ground, wet spots still fresh and dark green against the emerald. 

“You shit heads ready?” He grinned, too wide, too happy. So happy he winked at Max, who shot him furrowed eyebrows as a blushed response. 

“What’s your deal?” Dustin scoffed, never one to let an uncharacteristically enthused expression go unnoticed. 

“Nothing, shut up. Put your coat on.” Steve sighed, slamming down the front bill of Dustin’s cap. 

Dustin huffed a response and struggled for his jacket. 

Steve reached to the ground to find Max’s. The puff split down one side and was haphazardly duct taped together like her skateboard, and the entire thing looked ridiculous against the pristine image of Steve Harrington. He held it out for her to slip her arms into, and she did so, one after the other, her back up against his tall, strong front, their jackets puffed between them. 

His fingers, now warm, brushed her neck upon her coat’s release, and she shuddered at the touch, immediately stepping out of his range. She grappled for her bag, and the skateboard propped against the wall and grumbled for them all to leave already. 

“Bye, Mike! Thanks for Christmas! Bye, Nancy!” Dustin screeched throughout the house. 

Nancy swatted at him, not unkindly. “Shhh, Holly’s sleeping.” 

“Sorry,” Dustin grinned. “Merry Christmas, Nancy.” 

“Merry Christmas, Dustin. Merry Christmas, Max.” 

Max smiled and nodded. She lingered behind Dustin for a moment, waiting to hear the scramble of feet from the family room, but found no such luck. She sighed. Maybe being single for the holidays was just the icing on the cake from the shit year she’d had since July. Weird emotions struck her, tickled at her throat, and she shouldered past Dustin and into the cold. 

Steve was right. A thick layer of white brightened the air, frosted her cheeks, tickled at her nose hairs. She blinked into the blanket, trying to decide the best coarse of action to keep her jeans dry. The lights from the garage glowed warm against the icy driveway. Already, Steve’s car was cast in a thin layer, windshield wiping in vain. The engine rolled from the cold. 

His headlights exposed an odd patch of snow behind of the bushes at the front of the yard, packed like something had laid and almost attempted snow angels, though perhaps something had barreled through to destroy them. Amid the snow were twigs and berries.

Dustin forged ahead in a flurry of polyester, eager to get out of the snow and into the warmth of Steve’s car. With a groan, Max followed in his wake, hiking her skateboard up her hip to keep it dry. Dustin shouted shot gun, and the two of them collapsed into respective seats, breathless from the cold, stamping their boots onto the sideboard. Before Max closed her door, she noticed Nancy and Steve lingering in the doorway to the Wheeler’s home. Nancy’s fingers were wrapped around the lapel of his jacket. She fell back on flat feet from her tiptoes. 

Max slammed the car door and fresh snow fell to the driveway outside. The window cleared, and they watched Steve sprint back to his car, entering the fray in gasps and laughter. 

“What was that about?” Dustin asked.

“What?” Steve sighed. He swung an arm back to Max in the backseat to retrieve the scraper from beside her. “Be right back.” 

“Don’t think you can avoid the subject, Steve!” Dustin yelled, but the car door was slammed in his face. He grumbled and turned back to Max. The smile on his impish features was too solemn, something Max had grown used to from all of the boys lately. “Sorry about Lucas.” 

Max sighed, crossed her arms over her chest. “Who?”

Dustin cackled. “Ooh, that’s ice cold.”

The snow swept from the windshield with ease, dribbling down the hood, warm from the engine-block, and Steve made to scrape the side mirrors and back window next. He flashed Max a grin and a wink, and she felt her face heat from the warmth of the car and her oversized parka. She rolled her eyes and waited for his return so they could go already.

Safely buckled, they inched slowly out of the Wheelers’ driveway, Steve watching behind him with one hand over Dustin’s headrest. Once safely in the street, they took off at an amble toward the Hendersons’ bungalow. 

The dimly lit homes glowed with holiday cheer. Christmas trees were lit behind frosted glass, and Steve hunkered to his steering wheel to peer through the snow that rushed at them like the Millennium Falcon in hyper speed. Dustin knew better than to distract him with too much chatter, and Max was grateful for the silence to process the thoughts of the evening bumbling through her head. 

When they reached the driveway, Dustin wished her a Merry Christmas, and he warned Steve they’d have to talk about the shit with Nancy, and Steve flipped him off before the younger boy slammed the door and made his way up the steps to his home. 

And then there were two. Steve turned to face her, again with his arm over the passenger’s headrest, and he nodded that mess of hair toward the seat beside him. “Wanna move up? So I don’t feel like a chauffeur.” 

Max sighed, and crawled herself, dripping shoes first, over Steve’s center console and into the cushy passenger’s seat of his BMW. 

“I meant get out, but sure…” Steve gave her a toothy grin, far more cheerful than he would have been if Mike or Lucas had trudged snow boots over the leather. Max wondered if it was her, or the night he’d seemed to be having before she caught he and Nancy in the kitchen.

The heater was warmer from here, a blast of hot air into an already warmed face, and she turned to buckle her seatbelt, catching her own reflection in the window as they backed out of the driveway. With her ruddy hair frizzing out beneath her hat, she was sure Nancy was the only one making Steve smile this holiday season. She sunk deeper into her jacket, and watched the delicate pass of each windshield wiper as they headed toward their homes.

“So, do you guys have any fun Christmas traditions?” Steve asked about a block from Dustin’s. 

Max shrugged, thought about their traditions, and her heart sank a bit into that familiar pit she’d been getting used to over the last half a year. “We used to um… I used to decorate the tree with…”

“Oh shit, Max, Jesus,” Steve ran a hand over his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” she shrugged, biting back the emotions building at the back of her throat. She learned to quit crying a few months ago, learned it didn’t help, didn’t bring her brother back. “Do you have any fun Christmas traditions?”

“My parents usually go on this long ski trip. This year it’s like the Alps or some shit. Robin’s trying to talk me into having dinner with her family, but they like play charades. They’re all hyper. Every god damn one of them.” He was hunched over the steering wheel for better visuals, but he managed to gesticulate the way Max noticed he did, a frantic wave of those large, strong hands. 

“Sounds like a nightmare.” She snorted.

“I know!” He smiled at her then, just before his face fell. It was the same pity that filled her chest with panic, rolled her stomach, stung in her eyes. “Hey,” he started in. “You know I’m like… I just mean, like… I know you think I’m an asshole…” He ran a hand through his messy hair. A juniper berry rolled out and into her lap. 

“Steve,” Max groaned. She squeezed the berry between two fingers, and it popped a juicy lime green mess. 

“I’m just saying!” He held up his hands in defense. “I’m actually really cool, and if you need to talk, I’m a pretty good confidant. Just ask Robin.” His voice tapered off then, like he’d given away too much information. 

An awkward silence fell between them when Max didn’t respond, too embarrassed. The fans whirred, pumping heat into the cab, and the snow crunched between the tires, and faint Christmas carols could be heard on the radio, volume too low to make out specifics. 

When they reached Max’s house, she mumbled a thanks and clumsily grasped for the door handle. The snow outside a relief to her warm cheeks. She was about to slam the door, to escape up the yard to the front steps, when Steve called her name from inside the car. She turned on her heel to see his face split into a friendly smile. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

She raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Thanks for the ride.” And then she closed the door and trudged through the snow to the house. 

—

Christmas Morning was all waffles and comic books, tucked under an oversized sweater and her rainbow print sheets. Neil hadn’t seen the light of day in months, and Mom had an emergency shift, and none of them really wanted to talk about the missing piece to their family puzzle.

It was nearly noon before Max left her room again. The doorbell sounded from the front room, and a chill spread through her. She could almost hear the phantom call of her brother commanding her to get the door. Slipping out from her covers, she tiptoed down the hall, past a snoring Neil, and swung open the front door. 

Her bare legs prickled from the rush of cold, and she hugged her arms to herself, frowning at a visitor-free stoop. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she stepped out onto the frigid concrete landing with bare feet to see who had ding-dong ditched. 

Rushing down the path to a maroon BMW was Robin, dressed from bottom to top as a tinsel-covered Christmas tree. Before she opened the passenger’s side door, she turned to wave at Max and yell, “Merry Christmas!”

Max waved, confused, and watched as the two teens sped away, tires slipping on the icy lane. When they’d pulled around the corner, and her toes threatened to fall off, she noticed a gift leaning against the house, just underneath the doorbell. 

A bright red, satin ribbon had been tied around a brand new skateboard. The wheels were bright blue, and the underside was a technicolor of swirls that matched her bedspread. No duct tape, no splintered wood, no explanation for the swoop in her stomach and the smile spreading across her face. 

#stranger things #stranger things fic #max mayfield #max mayfield fic #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stancy #max likes steve #billy hargrove #minor max x lucas #christmas fic #christmas in july fic #merry christmas max

[royaltywhxre]

i don't know a way to explain to my family how exactly i wanna be buried and precisely what i want my funeral to look like without them thinking im gonna unalive myself

#like JUST IN CASE #ya know??? #i have a very particular vision #and i obviously can't tell them what to do once im dead #ya know what im gonna tell you guys what i want #immortalize that shit on the internet #i absolutely don't wanna be buried in a casket or even a graveyard #dump my body in a fucking hole and let the earth reclaim me 😌 #fuckin plant a tree on top of my body PLEASE #lemme nourish it #the type of tree is unimportant #ALSO #no sad sappy music at my funeral #just play the mamma mia soundtrack on a loop please #OR #if you ever happen to come across my old pink ipod nano i lost years ago then use the music on that #NOTHING ELSE #tw death #tw suicude #not really??? idk just to be safe

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Clouds

Josh Lyman x Reader

Words: 2373

Part 1 of 2

Summary: Head spinning from funeral preparations, the reader barely has time to grieve her father’s death. Her husband, Josh, remembers losing his dad and tries to help her through the dark days of loss.

Notes: I really wanted to write a sad Josh imagine after the sappy Christmas one, so here we go. Also, I want to write some more suspenseful and intense West Wing imagines, so hopefully I will be able to get those going as well! (This started to get long, so I’ll be splitting it into two parts. Let me know what you think!)

-

You turned the corner, saw your husband, and immediately turned back. You weren’t fast enough. 

“Y/N!” Josh shouted, pushing through a couple assistants to catch up to you. You turned around and put on an innocent smile. 

“Hi honey.” His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips turned into a deep frown. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” 

“Why did the President’s speech get moved back?” He asked with a frustrated sigh. 

“We thought it would be better for him to speak after-”

“After the Majority Leader announces that the Democrats just got screwed!” He shouted, receiving looks from the people squeezing past you. 

“Maybe we should talk about this in my office, Josh.” You said through gritted teeth. You grabbed Josh’s arm and shoved him into your office. “We decided that the speech would be too contradictory to try and make policy changes right before our other changes are shot down.”

“As opposed to sounding like a bunch of kids trying to start a fight on the playground?” He snapped. “Y/N-” You held up a finger and gave him a silencing look. 

“Need I remind you that this is my job?” You were one of the Media Specialists for the President. Josh stepped closer to you, his voice almost a growl. 

“Need I remind you that I’m technically your boss!” If you weren’t standing in the White House, you might have slapped him. The muscles in your jaw clenched as you bit your tongue to keep from saying something you’d regret. You turned away from him and sat down behind your desk. 

“You probably have something more important to do… boss.” You kept your eyes on your desk as he stormed out. Fuming, you grabbed a pencil and snapped it in half, throwing the pieces across the room. 

“Is this a bad time?” Your assistant, Lisa, asked cautiously from the doorway. 

“He pulled the authority card, Lisa.” You exclaimed. “He told me that he’s my boss!” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t he your boss?” 

“He’s also my husband.” You retorted. She shrugged. 

“Hey, you’re the one who married the Deputy Chief of Staff.” Lisa handed you a note with missed call information. “You got a call while you were arguing. She said that she’s your sister.” 

-

Josh was cleaning up a stack of papers that he’d thrown across his office in anger when Donna walked in. 

“What tornado came through here?” She joked, leaning against the door frame and her arms crossed.  

“Don’t start with me this morning, Donna.” He barked. He gathered up the papers and put them back on his desk. 

“You talked about the speech thing, didn’t you?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“I told her I was her boss.” 

“You didn’t.” Her arms dropped to her side and she stepped into the office, closing the door behind her. 

“Yeah.” Josh grimaced. “But she’s wrong!” 

“It doesn’t matter who's right or wrong, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” She pointed out. He narrowed his eyes with annoyance. 

“Get out.” 

“I don’t want to hear about your back being sore tomorrow.” She shrugged. 

“Go!” She went back to her desk and he fell back into his chair. Donna was right, of course, which irritated him even more. He’d barely even started to look over his work when Donna came back into the office. “Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?” 

“Lisa just called me-” He was too fired up to process the shocked, saddened expression on her face. 

“Donna, I can handle-”

“You need to go talk to Y/N-”

“Donna, really-”

“Josh.” Her serious tone caught him off guard. When he finally started to take in the grieving look in her eyes, he knew something was wrong. 

“What is it?” 

“Y/N’s dad just died.”

And the fight was forgotten. Josh walked quickly, rushing through the West Wing and making his way towards your office. Donna’s words echoed in his mind, mixing with his memories of the Illinois primary. When he lost his dad. 

“Where is she?” He asked Lisa. She pointed to your office. 

“She’s getting ready for a meeting with a committee from-”

“Cancel it.” He ordered and Lisa nodded in agreement. It was an easily reschedulable meeting, and you weren’t in the state of mind to discuss national park advertisement. He slowly opened the door to your office, finding you loading your briefcase with documents, the papers shaking in your hands. “Y/N?” 

“I really can’t talk right now. I have to get to a meeting.” You tried to move around him but he placed a hand on your arm. 

“I had Lisa cancel it.” You couldn’t bear to see the sympathetic look in his eyes. You shook your head. 

“I can’t. I have to-”

“Y/N.” He put a hand on your cheek and you finally looked into his eyes. Your lip started to tremble and your composure crumbled. Josh’s heart sank. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you and it almost felt like he was holding you up, your knees buckling underneath you. He kept one arm around your waist and held the back of your head with his other hand. “I’m sorry.” He muttered into your hair. “I'm so sorry.” 

“He’s just… He’s-” You sucked in a painful breath. “He’s gone.” It didn’t make any sense. Your dad wasn’t sick. He hadn’t been battling an illness for the past several years. You didn’t have time to prepare. Car accidents didn’t allow that. 

Josh didn’t say anything. He knew there wasn’t anything he could say that would make any of it easier. He knew better than most. That growing empty feeling that you just can’t shake no matter how many hands you shake or sympathy cards you read. 

Word spread quickly through the office, reaching the President in a matter of minutes. 

“You’re sure?” He said somberly and Leo nodded. 

“He was in a collision on the way home this morning,” Leo explained, his heart heavy with the news. He knew Bill well. It was actually how he had met Y/N. She was all fire and spunk and he had recommended her to the President for a media specialist. 

“He was a good man.” President Bartlet sighed. “Remind me to send something to Marissa. And tell Y/N and Josh to take all the time they need.” 

“Will do, Mr. President.” 

-

You usually loved driving home. The Virginia fields reminded you of the land that you grew up on.  Now, all you could think about were the memories. Your father teaching you how to ride a horse. Bringing you ice cream after a long day of homework. He was the one who taught you how to write. And now he was just… gone. Josh tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the music on the radio. 

“You know you’re going to have to get along with her.” You said suddenly, images of previous arguments flashing through your head. 

“Who?” He asked innocently, eyebrows raised behind his sunglasses. You gave him a look. 

“My sister.” He shuttered and you rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, Josh. I know you don’t like each other, but this is really not the occasion to get into one of your screaming matches. Everyone is going to be on edge enough and-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Josh took a hand off the wheel and placed it on top of yours. “I won’t fight with Celia.” 

“Promise?” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I promise,” Easier said than done. Josh had never gotten along with your older sister. Even at your wedding, they managed to have an argument in the kitchen while you threw the bouquet.  You never understood what their ongoing feud was about. They had the same political stance, your sister adored President Bartlet, and Josh had always gotten along with your parents. Your mother couldn’t get enough of him. If you were honest, sometimes you thought she liked him more than you! But not Celia. There was something about the two of them that always led to legendary arguments that could be heard from the capitol. 

After a few more hours of driving, the hills and trees opened to a long, winding driveway that led up to the house. You drove up a few days early so that you could help your mother prepare for the funeral, but even now, cars lined the driveway belonging to people coming to express their sympathies. Being a Representative for the State of Virginia made your mother a well-beloved and publicized woman. So word spread quickly around town and many families came to share their grief. 

After Josh was able to find a parking spot, the two of you carried your suitcases to the back door. Dozens of people in black dress clothes passed by you with sympathetic smiles. 

“Here, let me get those.” Someone offered. You turned to see Thomas, your brother-in-law. 

“Hey,” You greeted, pulling him into a hug. “How is everybody?” He shrugged. 

“We’re holding up.” He turned to Josh and shook his hand. Thomas, compared to his wife, took no issue with your husband. “Fair warning, Josh, a lot of Bill’s journalist friends are here and they’re going to love seeing the White House Deputy Chief of Staff.” 

Your father had run the local newspaper for years. He was an incredible journalist, with many offers from bigger news outlets like the Washington Post, but he only ever wanted to do local news. 

“Local news is where the good stories are.” You remembered him saying. “Writing about real people and not always talking about how dark and gloomy the world is… that’s all I want.” 

He’s the reason you got into media work in the first place. When you got the job at the White House, he got you the most beautiful fountain pen, with gold embellishments and the words “Make the world a little less dark and gloomy. Beyond proud of you- Love Dad” engraved on the box. With all of the messes going on at the White House, you started to wonder if you ever really made him proud. 

“Hey,” Josh grabbed your hand before you stepped into the crowded living room. He must have seen your nervous expression because he gave you a reassuring smile. “Do you want to just go for a walk? Get some of that fresh Virginia air before you talk to anyone?” You let out a breath of relief and nodded. 

Josh knew how it felt to look around your childhood home and not recognize a single person. To see a bunch of strangers sharing grief for someone that they hardly knew. It was suffocating. He convinced you to walk him through the orchards. They were beautiful this time of year. You took off your heels and walked down the path with bare feet. The dirt and the grass were cool against your skin while your intertwined hands swung back and forth as you walked in the spring sun. 

“He loved days like this.” You mused, looking up at the sky. It was freckled with large, puffy white clouds. “He used to say that clouds were the shadows of distant worlds passing by. Island kingdoms home to all sorts of creatures.” 

“Sounds like he should have written fantasy novels instead of news articles.” Josh chuckled. You smiled. 

“He did.” You picked up a flowery branch and twirled it around in your hand. “They were just filled with little stories for me and Celia. He got them bound and everything, but he never published them. They’re up in his study somewhere.” Josh smiled with awe, fondly remembering the way his father-in-law told everyone stories at dinner. Some of them were true, some definitely weren’t, but it didn’t matter. They always made him think differently about himself. 

You made your way back to the house, seeing Celia standing on the back porch with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Uh oh.” Josh groaned. You slapped his side. 

“Thomas said you guys got here an hour ago.” She snapped accusingly. “Did you just want to leave me and mom to do all the hosting?” 

“CeeCee, hush, it’s alright.” Your mom came through the screen door with a tray of wine glasses. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be in with the crowd either if I didn’t have to be.” 

“Representative Y/L/N, it’s good to see you.” Josh gave your mother a hug. “I’m really sorry for your loss.” 

“And I’m sorry that even after three years of being my son-in-law you still haven’t called me Marissa.” She scolded. 

“My apologies, Marissa.” He grinned. 

“So where have the two of you been?” Celia asked her tone still accusatory. 

“We just went for a walk.” You shrugged. She clenched her jaw and sat in one of the chairs while you and Josh shared the porch swing. 

The sun started to set and the five of you enjoyed a few glasses of wine and Josh bit his tongue whenever Celia tried to provoke him. This lasted for a few hours before everyone decided that they’d had a long day and it was time to turn in for the night. 

You slept in your old room, only now it had classy wallpaper instead of band posters. Josh had all but fallen asleep when he noticed you standing at the window. 

“What’re you doing?” He muttered groggily. His senses, however, switched to high alert when he heard the sniffle of crying. “Honey?” 

“I’m fine.” You waved your hand at him. “Go to sleep, I’ll just be a second.” He stood up, taking the comforter with him to wrap around you while his arms fell around your neck.  You held back a sob. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I know it hurts.” He whispered, his lips grazing your ear. “And I can’t tell you when it gets better because it’ll come back. Not all the time, but every once and a while, it’ll hurt. But I’m gonna be there for you when it does.” You turned around so you were facing each other and he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

The next few days would be rough, but he knew what they were like. And he would get you through them.

#josh lyman x reader #bradley whitford #the west wing imagines #josh lyman #jed bartlet

[yue-muffin]

Time Raiders (2016)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

I managed to fit this in three posts!

P A R T T H R E E

He really is too precious for words.

He doesn’t even miss a beat. He takes a second to look down and sees that he’s fucked, then remembers in an instant about how important memories are to Zhang Qiling and he wants to leave them with him if he’s really gonna die.

“I want you to hand it to me yourself.”

Ugh that’s such a classic line of reasoning I can’t. It’s so sappy (I love it).

This is definitely a very different Zhang Qiling. His voice gets so harsh when he commands Wu Xie not to move - you know it’s his worry manifested as anger “I told you not to move!” Then his voice gets much softer when he says that line.

“I’ll catch you.” Ahh that’s Zhang Qiling, as long as he can, he’ll always be there to save Wu Xie.

LOL CAN YOU NOT SPEAK??

This background music is so Soft.

Look at him.

You’re a real heartbreaker. He survives, but you really do know how to give Zhang Qiling a heart attack in this adaptation.

IT’S MOVING. Is this an ancient lab. What the heck haha.

GO AH NING.

At least in the other drama adaptations, Wu Xie always did discern that she truly did care for her comrades, even if she didn’t show it or insisted she didn’t. Out of all the female characters in DMBJ, she’s my favorite. She’s vicious, yes, and willing to use a lot of underhanded means to get to her goal, but she’s also a lot more than just a villain who gets in the protagonists’ way. Oh yeah, add at least one other to the death count, yes?

OH NO WU XIE. Haha Pangzi is in a pot again. He accidentally got left behind. You gotta love the sheer absurdity that surrounds anything Pangzi does.

I’m surprised by how well this movie got Wu Xie’s personality down. He’s not stupid, even if he is a bit naive and good-natured. He might actually be bluffing but hey it was a good call.

LOL BEHIND YOU. Yup, Zhang Qiling to the rescue! Ah, we have our Iron Triangle! Well, I doubt they’re really going to get enough exposure to call them that but hey.

Lol the two of them can barely hold this sword.

Wu Xie is so low-key clever haha. He’s also good at bluffing, which you wouldn’t think given he’s always called naive/innocent.

Aw look at him scurry back to Zhang Qiling’s side.

I would also like to know what the heck we’re looking for down here.

He’s an old friend pfft. This old man.

Turn human beings into trees?? I guess…that is sort of a form of immortality.

DMBJ in a nutshell? We all go down to a tomb, get into life and death situations, become friends, and decide to live and die together.

At least Ah Ning isn’t as scummy as she was in the other adaptations lol.

Lol this became a different iron triangle…Wu Xie, Zhang Qiling, and Ah Ning.

WTF. Have we traveled to the center of the earth what is this place.

And where the flip did everyone else go??

Aww look at him go. Still insisting he’d accompany Zhang Qiling to the end. Which ripped my heart out in the books. Zhang Qiling just wants you to be safe, ok.

Look at that little smile.

This is the movie of Zhang Qiling getting to show off constantly and I live for it.

Oh gosh all the zombie people are waking up.

Well this tree woman is really freaking creepy. Also, everyone has become a Zhang Qiling fan haha. They literally are just here to watch.

So you…want worm trees to rule the world. Ok.

This is such a weird final battle haha. Hey, looks like the gang’s all here! Oh great, wormy things. There goes another death. Ah, yes, the zombie people are here now. Everyone’s dropping like flies, two people fell into the lava I think…

Wu Xie and Pangzi are such disasters lol.

WU XIE. You give the knife to Pangzi, then run into Pangzi so he’ll stab the zombie??

Oh it’s the sad music. Is everyone gonna die??

Da Kui got a cooler death in this version at least…

“If I totally lost myself one day, there’s still someone who would remember me.”

ZHANG QILING. CAN WE NOT WITH THE HEART ACHE.

Aw, there goes Wu Xie’s “I’ll remember you” line. Oh? He wants the coin. Ahh this is - “I’ll give it to you once we get back” is never a good line to say!! It means one of you is going to die, usually, lol. Here we are raising flags everywhere…

Ahh the qilin scene from the beginning of the movie comes back! And blood + sword = can actually hurt the weird plant appendages.

We solve all our problems with the flute! Wu Xie is the bug whisperer now lol.

…Zhang Qiling already has a sort of immortal life what exactly are you offering him.

Well, these bug can eat metal so.

Haha he’s trying to appeal to Mr. Hendrix. Oh Wuxie, that is so like you.

THE PUPPY DOG EYES + THE CORNIEST LINE EVER

It’s the puppy dog eyes that did it. I know I’m right lol. And Ah Ning gets her change of heart here along with Mr. Hendrix.

Aw Pangzi and Ah Ning. I never thought I’d see you two on good terms.

WU XIE. He’s so determined.

THEY LOST HOLD OF THEIR IGNITERS?? Is that why one guy had to stay behind.

Oh, how the roles have reversed!

Aww look at them!! This movie is so good for the Pingxie content?? I am kicking myself for holding out on watching it for so long.

The way they just laugh out loud, look at the terrifying yet amazing scene in front of them, and then simultaneously glance at each other and give a soft little laugh each??

“I said I’d take care of you.”

It’s just- aahhh I am dying inside, dying.

You guys want to get off this thing now? You know if this was a man and a woman, they would’ve already had a dramatic we-almost-died kiss atop this thing already lol.

I REGRET NOT LOCKING YOU IN THE TRUCK MYSELF.

HAHAHA.

ZHANG QILING YOU DRAMATIC BASTARD.

Ah Ning actually saves him this time!

Look at what you did! You made him sad!

TEARS. YOU MADE HIM CRY.

Ooh the coin! Ahh no, this is sad. He gives him the coin even though Zhang Qiling couldn’t come out of the tomb with him.

And the funeral song just to drive home the SAD.

?? So was Zhang Qiling the one in the mask this whole time? Since he was a kid? It makes sense with how he knew about the coin then.

THAT’S THE END?? So all we know for sure is that Wu Xie lived.

No wonder why I saw someone once call this movie “Wu Xie’s fever dream” lol.

But UGH all that Pingxie content just gutted me. This movie was shockingly good?

I mean, it ended with mysteries still lingering. Did Third Uncle survive? Wu Xie says he’s waiting for a friend at the very beginning, so is he living in denial that Zhang Qiling managed to live?

But all in all, the mysteries are part of its ending and I think I’m ok with that. Better than watching all the drama adaptations and getting frustrated because I know there’s more story and then the season ends (Reboot/Chongqi was so unsatisfying because of how they split the seasons I think…).

But UGH. Lu Han’s Wu Xie will forever live in my heart. I didn’t expect to get so attached to him.

#time raiders #image heavy post #the muffin's liveblogging adventures

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[dad gave it to me]

Day 18: Thunderstorms #twdgdrabblechallenge

Note: You’d think that after all the sappy clouis content I’ve ingested since joining this community that I’d be sick of them by now but haha joke’s on you my appetite for clouis cuddling in the music room during a thunderstorm with Clementine and Louis opening up to each other is insatiable. 

AO3

---

The music room isn’t filled with the sound of piano tonight, rather the crack and popping of the fireplace and the grumbling of thunder outside vibrate through the air around them.

Clementine inhales the familiar scent of burning embers, taking solace in the heat of the fire, as well as Louis’ arms wrapped snuggly around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder with a heavy blanket hugging them together. 

Cleaning out the fireplace and fixing it up for actual use was the best idea they’ve had all week, she decides as she sighs, leaning back against Louis’ chest and taking a hand in hers while the other rests comfortably on his thigh.

A particularly hard crack of thunder rumbles through the school, something that would’ve been terrifying if not for the protection of walls and of each other. It’s crazy to think that she’s here instead of out there, fighting for shelter with the constant throbbing fear that AJ would get hurt or sick or bit or whatever else the storm would throw their way. 

Louis shifts behind her, sighing contently as Clementine brings his hand to her lips to press a light kiss against his knuckles, and as she does, she notices light glistens off his wrist. 

Using her thumb, she brushes back his sleeve curiously. 

“This is new,” she says.

Louis peeks over her shoulder to find her admiring the watch adorning his wrist. It’s old given how scratched the glass is and how worn the silver looks. There are dashes where numbers should be, and four different hands. Clementine always thought clocks only had two hands. The more she studies it, none of the hands move, so she assumes either the batteries are dead or the watch itself is broken. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, that- it’s not all that new.”

“It’s new that you’re wearing it.”

“I thought I’d give it a try,” Louis shrugs a shoulder. “See how it feels.”

“I like it,” she grins. “It looks like you.” 

“I look old and worn out? Oh, darling, you know all the right things to say.” 

“No,” she laughs, “I mean, it looks like something you would wear.”

He goes quiet, holding up his wrist to get a better look. After a moment, he finally admits, “My dad gave me this the last time I saw him.” 

“Oh.”

Clementine pulls from his grip, turning around to face him. He slips the watch off, nervously toying with it and avoiding her eye. 

“It’s really nice,” she says. “Don’t know many people who wear them anymore. Time doesn’t matter the same way it used to.” 

Louis nods, considering this. 

“This is the first time I’ve worn it out. Well, except for when Dad actually put it on me.” 

“Was it for your birthday?” Clementine asks. “Or Christmas?” 

An interesting smile crosses his lips, one that’s almost equal parts sad and fond. 

“No, he gave it to me at my grandma’s funeral.” 

“Oh.” 

“She had a stroke,” Louis sighs. “It happened not too long after I got sent here, and Dad showed up to tell me what happened. We went to the funeral together that weekend and it was...” he trails off, another groan of thunder emitting outside. “I don’t know, weird? Awkward? We didn’t talk about what I did but we didn’t talk about Grandma, either. We just... didn’t talk. And then, Mom didn’t show up because she was away with her family, so I had to talk to her on the phone and that was weird, too.”

Louis takes her hand in his, slipping the watch on and grinning at how loose it is on her. It’s heavy, foreign against her skin.

“When it was over and we were in the car heading back here, he just handed it to me and said that Grandma gave it to him and that he wanted me to have it... and I didn’t even thank him.”

“Lou...”

“I was still pissed, convinced that he and my mom were in the wrong for sending me away like I didn’t do anything,” Louis rubs at his brow, frowning. 

“You still kept it, though,” she murmurs. 

“I did... except this one time I lost it and freaked out. Torn my whole room apart looking for it. It wasn’t until a couple days later I found it in my drawer- which I swear to you, I dumped and cleaned out at least three times and it wasn’t there- that I realized how much it means to me. It’s the last thing I have of him, y’know? And I didn’t even thank him for it.”

Clementine puts the watch back on him before pushing him back against the pillows surrounding them, climbing on top and pressing her cheek against his chest. Instinctively, his hands run along her back, holding her close. They lay like that for a long time as the thunder roars on and the firelight begins to dim slightly. She knows she should add another piece of wood to keep it going, but find it harder and harder to leave his embrace. 

“You wanna know something?”

“Hm?”

“My dad gave me my hat.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, he gave it to me before my parents left for Savannah, told me to keep it safe for him until he came back.” 

Louis’ hand finds the back of her head, fingers running through her loose curls as he says, “I didn’t know that. No wonder you wear it like you do,” he smirks,  “even if it smells.”

“It does not smell!” Clementine sits up, smacking his chest as he laughs. “I just washed it last week!” 

“Did you, though?”

“Yes, you weirdo!”  

Through their laughter, Louis leans forward to press an apologetic kiss to her cheek, though she catches him before he falls back down. With his face cupped in her palms, Clementine brings their lips together. It’s quick, there and back to smile at him, which he returns with his own. 

They move back, shifting until their comfortable again with Clementine lying against his chest, feeling the weight of the watch on his wrist as Louis drags his fingers up and down her back. 

“You should wear it more. The watch.”

“You should wash your hat more.”

“Louis!”

#twdgdrabblechallenge #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg clouis

[sighlizz]

3, 4, 7, 8, 17, 20-40

3: Talk about the person you’ve had the most intense romantic feelings for.There have only been two people in my life that I’ve had serious romantic relationships with and fortunately one is still well in my life. The first one, definitely my first love, not really my favorite person or someone I would be friends with now. But I really can’t deny that. And the one still in my life is my current boyfriend, which I love to death. And I never really know how much is too sappy, so I’m constantly under sappy and I’m sorry for that. He’s pretty honest with me when I need him to be, which I appreciate lots, sometimes I think he sugar coats things. He’s one of the cleanest boys I know, which I think is like a huge bonus?! and he always knows how to make me laugh and when to comfort me. He’s my best friend, so what more could I ask for?

4: Talk about the thing you regret most so far.I regret everything I ever do? Ha, but one of the things that I don’t think anyone really knows about much, is family. I often times let my (dads side) family walk all over me and talk down on my brother and I. I don’t ever stand up for myself, it’s a love-hate relationship I have with them. For example, my mom couldn’t afford to pay for all of my dads funeral expenses, so my family came in and I wanted my dad to be buried at a specific spot but it was a little bit pricier, and my uncle had come in and told me “beggars can’t be choosers” Long story short, they turned around and decided we were going to have to pay them back for the whole funeral. Which was shitty.

7: Talk about your biggest insecurity.I almost want to say my intelligence? I mean I’ve got quite a few insecurities, but my intelligence is one of the bigger ones that I don’t think many people know about. A lot of my grades after elementary school, I feel like were very unimpressive, and I don’t know if it’s because I don’t try enough or I really am stupid. I’ve been diagnosed with ADD and I have been prescribed for medication in the past and my grades were terrific then, but it also makes me shitty and suicidal so I don’t enjoy taking it and I haven’t been taking it since like my freshman year of high school. But even socially, I feel like I can be saying some nonsense and I’m just completely embarrassed later.

8: Talk about the thing you are most proud of.This took me a long time to kind of figure out. But my heritage, it’s not super common, and I really like it when people ask like where I’m from actually. I mean unfortunately both sides of my family don’t clash well together, but I’m able to go to one side and just experience things and go to another side, and both families are immigrants so the traditions are pretty live and well.

17: Talk about someone you want to be friends with. Anyone willing to hand me some money? Show me the finer things in life? lol, on a real note, I feel like I’m friends with everyone I would like to be close to, with an exception of old best friends, but ya know, it’s life.

20: Talk about something that happened in high school.Ooo, girl, I was just with a friend I haven’t seen since high school like a few hours ago and she brought up this story that I forgot. I had just been broken up with this guy I had been with for two years and yikes, well he had milk in his locker/cubbies and like who tf leaves milk all day in their locker? So that was nasty, anyways, I opened up that milk and poured it all over his clothes and books in the BACK of his locker, so he wouldn’t even know and I was in guard and all the girls thought it was funny, so like 3 days later this horrible stench comes and people are trying to figure out like what that nasty smell was, HA ya it was coming from his locker and he had to clean everything out, and oh my gosh, my text books were still in his locker! And I thought those textbooks was owned by the girl he was flirting with so I was about to pour milk onto those books too, but luckily I didn’t cause, um ya haha they were mine actually. Anyways the girls and I laughed, the end.

21: Talk about a time you had to turn someone down.I feel like I don’t turn people down? It’s probably worst, lol. I’ll give someone a chance, and if I’m not feeling it, I do a 180 and ghost them.

22: Talk about your worst fear.Oh, well I’m religious so like I’m dead serious. Demons, like not even the devil that I’m kinda scared of, it’s like demons from like Insidious the movie. Like with zombies? I could kill myself and I don’t have to deal with them anymore. But demons, oh my, no, they’ve got you.

23: Talk about a time someone turned you down.N/A ?

24: Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot.I don’t think I can really pinpoint anything specifically right now, but anytime a friend comes to me with a problem they have I feel special, I’m terrible at giving advice, but I’m always around to sit and listen and mope with you. And also anytime someone comes to me and just tells me their true feelings about something, knowing that they feel comfortable enough to open up about something, that’s good stuff.

25: Talk about an ex-best friend.This happened recently that she became my ex-best friend. I don’t know I miss her and I still hope the best for her. I’m sure if I reached out and kept bothering her she’ll eventually let me into her life, lol, but I just don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s really pretty and definitely one of the most realistic people I know and honestly, I don’t have a whole lot of girlfriends, so losing one out of the few I already barely had made me devastated.

26: Talk about things you do when you’re sick.I sleep? Don’t do very much because I’m so tired. And I’m not sick very often either, but when I do, I’ll probably do 3 gulps of NyQuil, no more, no less. Definitely not the amount recommended but I sleep more and that’s all I care about.

27: Talk about your favorite part of someone else’s body.Hmm, I love a good nose. Noses are probably my favorite, I love the tip of the nose, the cartilage part, it’s a good part. I also really like fingernails. I think those two specifically are my favorite because I don’t like my own nose and fingernails.

28: Talk about your fetishes.If you’re able to find my BDSM test scores, I feel like those are all still pretty relevant. The only new thing is I’m a slight masochist.

29: Talk about what turns you on.I’m a slut for people who text back fast. Anytime someones got Old Spice deodorant, like my sense of smell isn’t great, but I can pinpoint who’s wearing it and I love it. I guess just caring about my safety should be a basic one, but ya I like that. Complimenting me, that’s basic, I don’t know these are all basic. I am a basic girl, feed me and touch my hair and I’m in love. Maybe it’s little things I like, are these little things? I feel like these aren’t very high standards lol.

30: Talk about what turns you off.If you don’t keep up with basic hygiene and if you don’t care how you appear to other people, then we’re going to have a problem. If you’re inconsiderate and have no manners, like dinner table wise especially, eek. If we’re texting and you make me wait for long periods of time (talking about hours, lol minutes is pushing it, but I guess I gotta be realistic) then Imma drop you.

31: Talk about what you think death is like.I would like to think there’s a heaven. Everyone is happy and dandy and those who deserve not to be there, ya. They’re not there, heh heh. But I guess my faith is not all that stable, because otherwise, I think it’s just cold and dark.

32: Talk about a place you remember from your childhood.Hmm, well I lived in southern California for the most of my life, but when I was younger my cousins had this house up in central California and basically a farm. Cows, chickens, goats, dogs the whole thing and before I started high school, I would go there every summer and like just run around and that was fun.

33: Talk about what you do when you are sad.Ooooo, listen to sad boi music. Cry more. And it’s a good time. If it’s really bad, then I’ll call up a friend and have them just keep me company, but by the time they get to me I stop crying because I hate crying around people, and they’ll ask me what’s wrong and I’ll try to avoid the question and act like nothing has happened and we’ll eventually talk then they leave, and I cry again. It’s a routine I have.

34: Talk about the worst physical pain you’ve endured.Once in middle school, I got some sort of kissing disease or I was sharing too many of my drinks and I got this gnarly infection in my mouth. I couldn’t eat or swallow so I basically starved myself. Eating caused me an enormous amount pain and starving wasn’t any better. So I lost a quite a bit of weight, and at one point I thought I was going to die. lol

35: Talk about things you wish you could stop doing.PROCASTINATiNG. BEING LAZY. Cracking my knuckles, shaking my leg when I’m nervous, turning red when I’m embarrassed. I wish I wasn’t so petty, that I was just nicer. I want to stop judging people, the last two things I really try working on, but I’ve still got some=progress to do.

36: Talk about your guilty pleasures.Oof, I love looking at myself. I love picking at my own skin too, it’s really unnecessary but I enjoy it (and if I’m virtually spotless, then I attack my brother, a gold mine for me)

37: Talk about someone you thought you were in love with.Omg. Middle school. I don’t know. We’re all stupid then. I’m glad none of my current friends were close to me, Jesus. I don’t know??? I said I love you to the guy??? UGH. dumb and gross.

38: Talk about songs that remind you of certain people.Fuqboi - Kelsey Hauf, thanks for showing me songs you think I would like, because I did like them, but mostly because you thought about me.Unintended (Muse) - Aileen, we both cried our eyes out to this, for the same reasons Wait a Minute! - Tegan, thanks for always screaming this song with me, I don’t know why we like it so much, lol My Boo (Hitman’s Club remix)- Michael, because you would dance this every time it came on and I thought it was so darn cute.Toothbrush (DNCE)- Michael, lol one of the first songs that I associated with you, it was on the radio constantly and we were always together. I’ve been meaning to make a playlist, but just never got around to it.

39: Talk about things you wish you’d known earlier.Don’t go to parties with people you barely know. Don’t drink alone with only one person. Save your virginity, like wtf. Be on top of your shit, life goes by WAY to fast for the worst.

40: Talk about the end of something in your life.A lot of my life was carefree, up until my dad passed. I didn’t worry about anything and took care of nothing. When my dad passed, I felt like I was forced to start doing things all of the sudden, taking care of my brother, making sure my mom was okay (she started to drink a whole lot more) and I would have to put her in her place, take her to bed, made sure she got up for work, etc), I had to start learning how to drive because my dad was the person who took us everywhere. So after that, I was given a lot more freedom, but I also was given a ton of more responsibilities.

#:) #ha #Thanks for the questions! #I had this all written out yesterday but somehow got deleted #so here I am again 3:42 AM #writing it all out again #made me actually think and reflect on stuff #hmh #BUT AGAIN #Thanks!

[deira-luv]

tagged by: @www98vikitoo

rules: answer these 92 statements and tag people

(gosh 92? ur lucky i care about u)

THE LAST:

1. Drink: water

2. Phone call: my mom

3. Text: my best friend

4. Song you listened to: Just Fine by Mary J. Blige

5. Time you cried: i cried because i was thinking about how i’ve never seen snow and i think that says a lot about who i am 

HAVE YOU: 

6. Dated someone twice: i haven’t even dated someone once

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: ive never kissed anyone either:-)

8. Been cheated on: :-)

9. Lost someone special: haven’t we all?

10. Been depressed: i don't know if I've ever been sad enough to be depressed

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: no, i can’t drink yet

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 

12-14: Purple, Blue, and Pink

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: yes definitely, in real life and on tumblr

16. Fallen out of love:...mm i dunno if it was ever love to begin with

17. Laughed until you cried: yes

18. Found out someone was talking about you: yeah apparently people talk about me at school??? bc im “good at drawing”???

19. Met somebody who changed you: yeah i can say ive definitely become a lot nicer and that's because of blueberry-pastel (she claims im an angel but i got it from her)

20. Found out who your friends are: yes, my friend group has slimmed considerably and i wouldn't have it any other way

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: i don't have Facebook...

GENERAL: 

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: :-)

23. Do you have any pets: no, but i want a cat

24. Do you to change your name: no

25: What did you do for your last birthday: i stayed home and ate cheesecake while having a mini party with my sisters

26. What time did you wake up: 7:30am  (daylight savings just ended)

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: sleeping??

28. Name something you cant wait for: i cant wait for next weekend because my sisters come home and i can show them all my drawings from the week and we can develop this stupid au

29. When was the last time you saw your mom: she’s literally in the other room. i can hear her talking.

30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: i wish i could change all my friends moving away...

31: What are you listening to right now: Feels by Calvin Harris, what else?

32. Have you ever talked to a person named tom: yea

33. some thing that is getting on your nerves: school

34:most visited website: tumblr.com, bet you'd have never guessed

35. mole/s: u mean like.. beauty marks? i got lotsa those

36: mark/s: scars and stretch marks, and this weird blemish on my cheek

37: Childhood dream: i dunno i think it was a ballerina

38: Hair color: black

39: long or short hair: short

40: Do u have a crush on anyone: not anymore...*looks out the window dramatically*

41: What do you like about yourself?: i like my imagination, because when im bored i could just think up a new killugon story plot or continue one of my old daydreams

42. Piercings: no :( but i want some

43. Blood type: i don't know

44. Nickname: BB or Deedee(sometimes my sisters call me bedeedee tho)

45. Relationship status: u already know its single

46. Zodiac: Cancer

47. Pronouns: she/her

48: Favorite tv shows: i dont really have any?? the amazing world of gumball maybe?

50. (did we skip 49?) Right or left hand: right

51. Surgery: nope

52. Hair dyed in a different color: no, but i want to

53: Sport: im not good at sports... i can run tho so track?

55. Vacation: the beach, of course

56: Pair of trainers: what does this even mean? no??

MORE GENERAL: 

57. Eating: nothing right now

58. Drinking: i want water but again nothing

59. I'm about to: turn on the fan cause its hot in here

61: Waiting for: didn't i already answer this? next weekend

62: Want: winter break, im ready for the Christmas music

63. Get married: id like to, when i meet the right person(ew that sounds sappy)

64. Career: a fashion designer, if not, an astronomer

WHICH IS BETTER:

65. Hugs or kisses: im taking both you cant stop me

66. Lips or eyes: eyes, i think they're all so pretty, especially with al the colors they come in

67. Shorter or taller: taller, it'd be great if i could meet someone taller than me

68. Older or younger: older but not by too much

70. nice arms or nice stomach: arms

71: sensitive or loud: huh???

72. Hook up or relationship: relationship duhh

73. troublemaker or hesitant: cant i just have a normal one? whatever troublemaker

HAVE YOU EVER: 

74: Kissed a stranger: didn't i already answer this? no

75. Lost glasses/ contact lens: too many times. i just stopped wearing them

76. Turned someone down: :-) no

78. Sex on the first date: nNO

79. Had your heart broken: i dont know if you could call i that but i guess

80. Broken someone's heart: ha no

81. Been arrested: the most illegal thing ive done is cross the street without looking

82. Cried when someone died: um yeah??? i cried at a funeral and i didn't even know the person who died

83. fallen for a friend: *clears throat loudly* maybe

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. yourself: ha no

85. Miracles: yea

86. Love at first sight: yea

87. Santa Claus: never have and im too old too do it now

OTHER:

90. current best friend name: real life: bryanna tumblr: uhhh i think her name is alma?? @blueberry-pastel whats ur name??

91. Eye color: brown, exciting i knwo

92. favorite movie: well thanks to somebody *looks canzie straight in the eyes* Kingsman: The Secret Service

woop! we made it! im tagging: 

@canzie-gumm @blueberry-pastel @wonderlandmonkeypuzzle @killuasnowtree @commonaddictwithapen @driftingglass

have fun guys

#longest one ive ever done #im exhausted #twasnt really 92 #there was a couple skipped numbers #more like 89 #but it was more fun than i thought #you guys dont have to do this if you dont want #im not editing this

[lisa89j]

When I die...

I’ve been to a few funerals in my life. The first one I remember going to was my grandpa’s sister. I believe I was six or seven. The only things I recall are how hot it was outside (must have been summer) and that I wondered if they were going to bury her wheelchair with her (she had half her leg hacked off from diabetes...she actually died of lung cancer. She didn’t smoke though so go figure!)  I doubt I asked anybody about the wheelchair part. I had a tendency as a child to ask bunches of ridiculous questions and I caught on pretty quick that it annoyed the adults around me. 

Having gone to a number of funerals has made me think over the years about the things I don’t want when I die.  I thought I should probably write it all down in case I catch the Old Timer’s disease or get run over by a bus before I can make my intentions known. 

My number one thing I find they do at funerals that I don’t want is the reading of the 23rd Psalm. In case you’re not familiar with it, it’s the one that goes “Ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil....” (something like that...and blah blah blah etc etc) First of all, it’s so cliche. I think I have probably heard it at every single funeral. If you were to take a bet if it was going to be said at the next few funerals you go to, you’d lose if you bet against it. It’s almost like a requirement. I’m here to say NO! Not for me! Don’t you dare. If you really need a bible verse, please play that clip from Pulp Fiction where Jules recites Ezekiel 25:17. If your not familiar with it, just do a quick google search for the clip. Be warned it’s not work safe.

Next is, singing Amazing Grace. Another big No for me. Now, I have nothing in general against it. It’s a classic hymn. It’s pretty. It’s THE song you hear at every funeral. But it’s not for me.  It’s slow and sad and implies a deep religious conviction that I do not share.  I actually dare to say most of the people who’s funeral it is sung at don’t really share the sentiment expressed in the lyrics. But, hey, if it makes people think they might get an extra boost into the heavens if it’s played, then go for it. Just not at my send off. I’m sure someone can pick a more appropriate set of tunes...maybe some Beatles...Genesis...Phil Collins solo...Audio Slave...some classic country (don’t judge my music tastes! just don’t go there!)

Next up, forego the minister or preacher or priest (whichever).  The next to last funeral I went to was lead by some kind of religious preacher guy who clearly had never met the deceased. Because I know for a fact the deceased hadn’t attended any sort of church for the previous few years to be affiliated enough to have someone speak about them in that way. And the things that were said were so ridiculously sappy. And just...basically way over the top with acting like this particular deceased person was such a pillar of society. 

Now, don’t get me wrong here...I don’t mean to imply that there should be bad things brought up at a funeral. After all you’re there to remember the good times. Not the times you actually wished the person death. The times they forgot to pay you back for lunch. The times they cancelled at the last minute because something better came up. The times they ditched a cat on the side of the road in the country because it wouldn’t stop pooping in the wrong place. You’re there to remember the times they brought you a candy bar. Or helped you change a tire. Or laughed along with you at the same stupid jokes. The times they helped you vandalize a...well you get the idea. What I’m trying to say here is, I don’t want someone who never met me standing up and acting like they did. 

I also want a bouncer at the door. If the person can’t provide any definitive proof they’ve interacted or seen me in the immediate past, they aren’t allowed in. Why show up now? Where were you last week or last year?  The implication to me is, you’d rather see me dead then alive. That’s just rude. Go someplace. Just not here. 

I don’t want my dead, made up body on display. I want to be cremated. There is a two-fold reason for this. One..the top one really..cremation is cheaper. And if you know me at all you know I’m cheap. Two...I doubt I will look very good after whatever it is that killed me gets through. I’ve seen a few prettied up corpses in my time. There’s only been one time they looked any where near like they did alive (and isn’t that the point of the whole thing..to see them as they were one last time?) I don’t blame the funeral home for that. All they have to go by is the body in front of them (that is obviously NOT going to be in the best shape it’s ever been in) and pictures provided by the family. If you’re really in my circle, you won’t need a viewing of an inanimate shell to view to remember me by.  

I feel the need to expound on the time I did see a dead body at a funeral that looked life-like..which when you think about it really is kind of creepy right? 

Anyway, it was the mother of one of my mom’s friends. I had been in her company quite a few times in my life so I knew how she looked in general. Also, right next to the casket they had a picture of her in a frame on a tiny table.  You know, in case she really didn’t look like herself and you might be questioning who you were there to see. 

It was a nice picture of her. It was taken when she was older. I have many times seen pictures on display of the deceased when they were young and full of vigor and all that. Which is fine. But this picture was taken in the past few years. She had on her glasses, a string of pearls and a blue green dress. Maybe more mint green...sea green? One of those. She was smiling. Very nice picture in general. 

Now, imagine this if you will...she is laying in the casket. Wearing...her glasses...pearls..and that same dress. THE SAME OUTFIT EXACTLY as the picture on display. Except she wasn’t smiling. She just had a neutral look. I looked at her. And then the picture. Then her. And I couldn’t stop myself from thinking it was as if they took her picture and then she just dropped over dead. Bam! She seriously looked so exactly the same that it was all I could think about through the whole service...23rd Psalm..Amazing Grace...etc etc.

If you’re looking for someone to accompany you to a funeral who is going to be serious and somber, I am really not the person for the job.  At one funeral I went to, we were walking around the funeral home a bit and saw a door that was labeled with a permanent sign. It said “stairway”. It was all I could do to not dig a post-it out of my purse and stick “to heaven” under it. I do have a bit of self control. Just not enough sometimes. 

Ok, I am some what off topic now. At least we are still on funerals. 

So in general, I don’t want any of the usual, boring cliches associated with funerals. 

[justeduardo]

The end

After all is said and done. After the tears have dried and the pain goes away. After the pieces have been picked up and taped back together. After everything maybe just maybe things will be okay.

This all happened really the way I envisioned it. All those years ago. It's strange to say now because in the moment it was all a rush. A fantastic beaming star that collapsed under the weight of itself.

I am in no position to be jealous. To be envious. To be hurt when truthfully I did worse. In ways that I will never say because that's a bridge too far but in my mind I know.

The anger is justified but misplaced. It makes it easier. To scream "fuck you" and curse my very being. It makes it all rational. Which I deserve.

I deserve the scorn and vitriol. I deserve to be lashed out at. I own up to my failings. Not willingly but I know what I did.

I did this for selfish reasons. Not to be with someone else. Not to fuck around. Not for anyone but me.

All I've wanted was companionship. To have people that cared about me as much as I cared about them. I wanted my wedding to have guests. My funeral to be attended. I wanted to matter. Or to at least think I mattered.

The only thing keeping me going are my friends. Who I discovered I actually have. Strange to say. But so many people have come out to wish me well. To make sure I was okay. Every one being so thoughtful and respectful. They all knew what you meant to me. I could open up to them. Never you. And that was the issue. I cared so much about making sure you were okay that I lost sight of myself. Lost sight of what made you fall for me in the first place. I stopped trying. Not because of her. But because of me. I felt myself slipping away. And I tried finding comfort in all the things you had asked me to avoid. Every day becoming closer and closer to a person I hated. Who you would grow to hate. Who you did grow to hate.

I may be petty but I can't bring myself to rip you out completely. You were my first. That means more than you'll ever know. I actually tried for you. Until I didn't. I remember the day my heart broke. The day I realized that I could never do the one thing I always wanted to do with you. To drive around here windows down, music blaring, hands interlocked, and just smile as the sun set. The day I realized that wasn't possible my heart broke.

There was no other. Misplaced feelings led me somewhere odd. Craving the unknown. I liked stability. I always did. Routines make me feel better. I still am the same. I haven't changed. I am still a socially awkward dork. I still am sappy as hell. I still am a singing goofball. I still am me. For better or for worse.

This is what I wanted. For you to find someone who would actually make you happy. For you to experience all the things I thought you deserved. For you to break my heart so it would be easier. So I could move on from the mess I made.

I'm not sad anymore. Not because I don't care. I always cared and will always care. But because for once I think you'll actually be happy. I still check up on you because I have my reasons. Do better to spite me. Let my pain be your motivation. Make bonds with people who will be there. Who will care more than I ever cared to show no matter how much I said it. Because for all my talk words matter.

I'm not sad because I still have the memories.

I'm not ready to love.

I'm not ready to date. And that's okay.

In the mean time all i can do is surround myself with people who want to help me experience things.

Maybe one day I'll find someone.

Maybe I never will.

All I know is that I'll just have to keep living.

It's the least I can do.

#personal #until i find my pen this will go on here #the end

[theliterateape]

Hope Idiotic | Part 34

By David Himmel

Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.

SADNESS DOESN’T COME IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE SUDDEN DEATH OF A LOVED ONE. Shock comes first. You feel nothing. Your mind and body switch to autopilot. If you’re one of the first to hear the news, you get busy making phone calls to other loved ones of the departed. You involuntarily go through all of the other motions that come with surviving someone. You try to maintain the status quo. You eat breakfast. You feed your kid. If you’re Lou, you go couch shopping.

Sadness makes a brief appearance at the funeral or the memorial service. That’s when the reality of the death hits. As you watch the crowd of bereaved friends and family huddle and hug and share condolences, you realize the final truth that someone you cared about isn’t showing up. That person will never show up again. All you’re left with is whatever they gave you before the day they died. And as people tell their stories about the dead, and you hold a service program in your hand with a nice portrait of the dead on the cover, you cry. That’s the sadness. But there’s more. There’s a deeper, unwavering sadness. This sadness comes only after the news has gone cold and the body has been put away. It’s when things go back to normal and you find yourself reaching for that person, expecting to hear them, see them, and you get nothing in return but silence and emptiness. Going about the day-to-day even long after that person is gone is when true sadness shows. The enormity of the loss doesn’t come until later.

So the next morning, Lou didn’t feel much of anything beyond the shock. He called Lexi.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Me, too.”

“You okay?”

“As okay as I can be, I suppose.”

Asking people if they are okay after a loved one dies is a stupid question. Has the answer ever been anything but exactly what’s expected? It’s a formality we exercise because we are uncertain of what else to say or do. Because for some reason, doing nothing and just being quiet is unacceptable behavior, but it’s probably what we need to do.

“What happened? How’d you find him?”

“He didn’t show up at work, and no one could reach him. Lorraine called me a little before the end of the day at work, so I tried calling and texting.”

“When was the last time you heard from him?”

“Thursday night after work. He was on his way to an alumni event at the university. He said he had a bad day at work and that we’d talk about it later.”

“Did he sound okay?”

“Just tired. Melvin was all over his ass.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“No. After work, I went by the house. I used the garage code and… I walked right past him in the car. Didn’t even see him. I went in the house, called for him, walked upstairs and checked the bedroom because I figured he was sleeping, but he wasn’t there. It was strange. So I walked back downstairs, and when I walked out of the kitchen into the garage… I saw him. In the car.”

“What did he look like? Shit, that’s weird. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. He looked like he was sleeping. But before I even got to the car, I knew.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“The doors were locked and the windows were up. I grabbed a broom and smashed the passenger window in with the handle. I don’t know why, but I tried to wake him up. Then I called Lorraine. Then I called 9-1-1. Then I tired waking him up again.”

“You don’t think he did it on purpose, do you?”

“Hell no!”

“Okay. I don’t either. I had to ask. Maybe you knew something I didn’t. He wouldn’t do that to us. It would kill him knowing we were having to deal with this shit.”

Lexi laughed. “Only you can get away with making me laugh right now.”

“So what’s the plan for a funeral?”

✶

MICHELLE SAID THAT SHE REALLY WANTED TO FLY TO LAS VEGAS WITH LOU FOR THE MEMORIAL SERVICE, but work was just too busy for her to get away. The memorial service was spearheaded by the Employee Events Department at Tigris. It was Melvin’s idea. They had contacted the church he and Lexi briefly attended, and the church agreed to host it.

The room was packed—three hundred people or so. A gentle, masculine-looking woman led the service. She looked like a young Bea Arthur. It was nicely done, and the sentiment was there, but overall, the whole thing felt like a farce. The program listed speakers as me, Neal Harding—friend, Louis Bergman—friend, Melvin Wilson—friend and co-worker, and Cal Keller—father. When I spoke, people laughed and cried. I managed to say what I had to say about my friend without cracking too badly. When Lou spoke, people laughed and cried some more. He didn’t fare so well and broke up twice. A hint of sadness. Melvin prattled on about how dedicated Chuck was to his job and how he always had an interesting approach to getting the work done. The bullshit was thick, and even those who didn’t know the true Melvin and Chuck relationship would have had to know everything he was saying was bullshit. Cal, came without Barbara or Darryl, but instead with a childhood friend of Chuck’s named R.J. When it was Cal’s turn to speak, R.J. stood uncomfortably on the stage with him.

“Thank you, all of you, for coming here to this service today,” Cal said. “Thank you Melvin for putting it together. This is all very sad. Chuck being dead is very sad.”

He began to cry, and R.J., who was wearing an oversized Indianapolis Colts jersey, put his arm around his old friend’s father and walked him back to their seats.

The young Bea Arthur minister returned to the microphone. “Chuck being dead is very sad,” she confirmed. “Let’s remember him in happier times with this slideshow.”

The lights dimmed, the two large screens on either side of the stage came to life with a photo of Chuck taken for his Tigris ID card. He looked like a corporate stiff. It was a terrible representation of him. His name and the years 1980–2009 faded in on the photo. Then the strum of Noel Gallagher’s guitar began. The slideshow was set to “Wonderwall.”

Funeral slideshows and videos are insulting. The intentions are well meaning, as are most things people do when in the grips of grief, but the truth is that those same intentions are just sediment filler in a deep, expansive bleak hole. These videos, which are an easy up-sell for the funeral director, are a collage of photos from the deceased’s life set to music, preferably the person’s favorite song. If the person didn’t have a favorite song, then something sappy and stock goes in its place. Something like “Amazing Grace” or inappropriately, Green Day’s “Good Riddance (The Time of Your Life),” which is about a breakup. What’s worse is that the photos chosen in the video are meant to represent that person’s life. No matter how great the photos are, no matter how representative they are of the different stages of that person’s life, the attempt to summarize a lifetime in a three to fifteen-minute slideshow is futile. A life, no matter how short or uneventful, cannot fit inside of a funeral video. And certainly not Chuck Keller’s life.

After the service, a large group of people—many friends from college Lou hadn’t seen in years—went to the Fish for a few drinks and to try to one-up each other with Keller stories. Lou and I got hammered, and Natalie drove us home to pass out together on separate ends of the couch.

✶

THE NEXT DAY, THE SORTING AND PACKING UP OF CHUCK’S LIFE WAS WELL ON ITS WAY. Lou arrived at his house to find Cal and R.J. loading up boxes into a U-Haul truck. But they weren’t Chuck’s. They were Lou’s boxes with all of his junk that he’d left behind and stored in the garage.

“None of these boxes are his?” R.J. asked.

“Nothing on the left side of the garage, no. This is all my stuff.”

“So we gotta unload everything we already loaded into the truck?”

“Unless you want to drop that stuff off in Chicago, yes.”

“Nah, we don’t want to do that. Just want to get all Chuck’s stuff back to where it belongs.”

“In Cayuga.”

“That’s right.”

R.J. started unloading the boxes. Cal came out from inside the house. “What the hell’re you doin’ R.J.?”

“These ain’t Chuck’s. They’re Lou’s.”

“So we gotta unload everything we already loaded into the truck?”

“You want to drop it off in Chicago?” R.J. asked.

“No.”

“Then yes.”

“What time did you guys get here this morning?” Lou asked Cal.

“We stayed here.”

“What, overnight?”

“Yeah. Didn’t see any sense in renting a hotel room when we got a house to stay at. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, of course not. Just would have been nice to know. How’d you get in?”

“Chuck’s keys.”

“Right.”

“Hey!” R.J. yelled as he walked down the ramp of the truck with a box in his arms. “How ’bout a little help with all this?”

Cal and Lou started unloading boxes and stacking them back in the garage next to Chuck’s car, which hadn’t been moved. The empty bottle of wine was still on top of the cup holder, resting against the passenger seat. There were shards of glass on the driver’s seat, the floor of the car and the floor of the garage. The plastic broom Lexi used to break the window lay next to the car. Lou noticed a crowbar leaning against the wall by the door into the house.

So this was it, Lou thought. That piece of shit car is where Chuck took his last breath. This wasn’t the scene of blazing glory Lou figured would have been his friend’s undoing. Lou imagined Chuck making it until his 70s before his liver gave up on him and forced him into a hospice bed, or he’d have a heart attack on a road trip and drive his car off the side of California into the Pacific Ocean. Or maybe he’d go off the grid and spend his days drinking and writing in some Costa Rican resort bar until one afternoon he just didn’t wake up.

The idea of death is always romantic. The reality is far less so. We’ll never know exactly how Chuck died. We know he drove home. We know he never got out of the car. Everything in between is romantic filler. His favorite song playing to the very end is just how I like to imagine it. The romance helps me all this time later in the quieter moments. I like to think he died having a good time at the moment.

That’s how he died. As Lou stood in his garage, he was thinking more about the why. All evidence for Lou pointed to Chuck’s luck running out. A guy can only drive home drunk and pass out behind the wheel so many times before it catches up with him. And that’s what happened. Chuck had exhausted all of his chances to get out of jail free. Chuck had had a bad day and placed a bet with the gods. But the gods determined that he needed to go. They were done covering his ass.

“Hey, Cal,” Lou said, still staring at the car. “Where is Chuck now?”

“At the crematorium.”

“Oh.”

“It was a whole lot cheaper to have him cremated than buried. Plus, there’d be all these extra charges to have the coroner ship his body home. His boss said that Tigris would pay for it, but I told him no. Just pay for the cremation.”

“What are you going to do with the ashes?”

“I’ll probably take some for a keepsake,” R.J. said.

“Have you thought about spreading them out in Zion? Any of the other national parks? Probably what he’d want done with them,” Lou said.

“I’ll have him buried with me when I go. Think we’ll keep him at the house until then.”

The first bit of proof of how terrible Chuck’s dying was had revealed itself. All that was left of Chuck Keller was doomed to spend eternity in a place that caused him the least amount of peace. It wasn’t right.

Lou excused himself, telling the guys that he’d get to work packing up the stuff inside the house. Upstairs, he saw that the guestroom and second bathroom looked lived in. He ran back downstairs to Cal and R.J.

“Where are you guys sleeping?”

“I’m in the master bedroom, and R.J.’s sleeping down here on the couch.”

“So, whose stuff is in the guest bedroom?”

“Probably that magazine publisher. He’d been living here. Told me he’d be by tonight to pick the stuff up along with that computer in the office.”

Lou was floored. The publisher was living in his house? Why? For how long? Why didn’t Chuck say anything? He called Lexi, and she agreed to meet him for coffee later that afternoon.

“I thought you knew,” she sai

“I had no idea. Was he paying rent?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Jesus Christ. The guy has money. He should have been paying the full amount. Why would Chuck keep this from me? And why was the publisher not living at home with his family?”

“His wife kicked him out,” Lexi said. “It was supposed to be only a week or so until they worked it out or whatever.”

“But how long had it been?”

“A month, maybe. Now I have a question for you? Who’s Gina?”

Lou lifted his head out of his hands and starred at Lexi. “Who’s who?”

“Who is Gina?”

“I’m not… What do you mean?”

“Lou, I know about her. Gina. Well, I don’t know a lot about her, but I know she exists and for some reason has a key to your house because Cal called her last night to let him in after he couldn’t reach me.”

“She still has a fucking key? Cal told me that he used Chuck’s key to get in. What the hell is going on here?”

“Who is she?”

Lou had warned Chuck about the dangers of dating two women at once; about giving them both full access to the house, and he told Chuck that he wasn’t going to help him clean up the mess when the whole thing finally caved in on him. And now it had caved. And that motherfucker wasn’t there to deal with it at all. It was now entirely up to Lou to handle it.

“She’s a girl from Tigris.”

“Did they date?”

“Yeah, briefly. While you guys were broken up,” Lou lied. Then he lied some more. “It wasn’t anything serious.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” That motherfucking fucker.

✶

ON THE WAY BACK TO THE HOUSE, LOU CALLED ME.

“Did you know about the publisher?”

“I had no idea. That’s pretty goddamn funny, though. And that you had to deal with the Gina/Lexi thing. That guy left more shit behind than Tupac.”

At the house, Lou was further surprised and mildly pissed that Gina was there. She was in the office with Cal and R.J. futzing around with Chuck’s computer.

“What’s going on here?” Lou asked. The three of them looked at Lou like they had been caught doing something illicit.

“Just getting Chuck’s files off this computer before the publisher takes it away,” Cal said. “I don’t know how these things work, so I called Gina.”

“I’m really not comfortable with this,” said Lou.

“Why, Lou? What’s your problem?” Gina inquired.

“It’s not that I have a problem, Gina. It’s that this computer isn’t yours to fool around with. It’s property of the magazine.”

“We’re not fooling around with it. I’m just helping Cal retrieve his son’s private files.”

“They’re not private. Not if they’re on a computer that doesn’t belong to him. You need to talk to the publisher about this.”

“Well, I don’t have time to help him later, so I have to do it now. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that I’m not comfortable with this. You can’t come into my house and start taking things that don’t belong to you.”

“They’re not for me! They’re for Cal!”

“All the same.”

“It’s not all the same. Cal should have a right to his son’s stuff.”

“I don’t disagree with that. But that’s between Cal and the publisher and me.”

“Why you?”

“Because it’s my house, Gina.”

“Hold on a second, Gina,” Cal said. He walked to the office doorway where Lou was standing. “This is my fault. I don’t want to cause any problems. If you say we should talk to the publisher, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“I think that’s best, Cal, thanks. You say he’ll be by later tonight? I’ll call him and make sure he does come by. Let him know what’s going on.”

Gina began transferring files faster.

“Gina, please stop what you’re doing.”

“Why are you being such a fucking asshole about this?”

“Okay. You need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I was trying to be reasonable about this, but you clearly don’t want that, so please, leave.”

“I’m here because Cal wanted my help.”

“I don’t care. I can help Cal. And this isn’t Cal’s house to invite people into. It’s my house. And I didn’t invite you. And since you’re being rude, I’d like you to leave.”

“Fuck you, Lou!”

“Look, I get that you’re upset and that you want to do the right thing. But you’re a little late for that. You should have tried being more supportive before he died. Now give me my house key and get out.”

She stood up and took the key off of her key ring and threw it at Lou, just barely missing his head. It chipped the paint and made a small dent in the drywall.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Lou Bergman!”

“And you’re trespassing on my property.” He took out his phone. “You have until I count to 10 to get out of my house, into your car and drive away, or I’m calling the cops to have you arrested.”

“Maybe you should go,” Cal said. “I’ll give you a call later.”

She stormed out of the office and screamed, “Fuck you!” right in Lou’s face as she passed. The three men watched her get into her car from the office window and peel off down the street.

“I’m sorry about that,” Cal said.

“It’s fine,” said Lou. He was impressed with himself that he didn’t scream back. Perhaps one of the benefits of being emotionally numb.

✶

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Cal and R.J. had the U-Haul loaded, and all of Chuck’s things were out of the house. Cal replaced the dead battery in Chuck’s car and poured a little gas into the tank from a container he picked up at the gas station. He was going to drive the car his son died in all the way back to Indiana. Lou thought the idea morbidly pathetic.

“You plan on fixing the broken window?” Lou asked Cal before he took off.

“Oh, yeah. I suppose I ought to have that looked at before we get too far.”

“I imagine you’ll sell the thing once you get home, huh?”

“Nah. I’ll hang onto it. Help me remember my son.”

Sadness makes people do the strangest things.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33

#Bildungsroman #Hope Idiotic #Fiction #Chicago Fiction #David Himmel Fiction #David Himmel Novel #David Himmel Author #Dark Humor #Carbon Monoxide Poisoning

[just-some-rando-thoughts-blog]

Christmas thoughts

First of all, I am a Christian, southern Baptist born & raised. But y’all, I just can’t seem to get into the Christmas (or holiday) spirit what so ever. I’ve listened to Christmas music - it just puts me in a worse mood. I’ve made Christmas designs - hasn’t inspired me. Idk. Maybe it’s the pressure to get everyone’s gifts done? I can’t even seem to get the gumption to decorate or put up the tree. ITS BRAND NEW IN THE BOX. It even has pine cones and GLITTER on it. Why can’t I seem to want to unpack it?! The more I think about it, the more in a funk I get. I’ve never been not excited for Christmas before.

Maybe it has to do with my previous post about not being pregnant. If I had been, I know exactly what I was going to give everyone as a gift. A custom personalized announcement just for them. I’ve had that planned for months for any occasion so I’m not sure why it would upset me so much now. *eyeroll* I feel like I should be sadder about it, but I just don’t have time. Sometimes it makes me feel broken that I don’t cry over sad things. I do cry over some things - I’m not a monster - but I don’t like to be sad. So I avoid sad situations. I don’t read sappy stories on Facebook or watch hallmark movies. Funerals make me feel a level of awkward like you wouldn’t believe. I feel sad for the loved ones but I don’t feel like I look sad enough for them to know that I sympathize with them.

Boy these posts make me sound like a bundle of joy lol. I promise I’m a lot more fun when I’m not in such a down mood!! Hang with me.

[xcandycorn]

Intro Toned body Can't atone with me Took the music when he left Lover of the stars Cared more about his cars Than my career Tossed my records in the dirt Drug my name through it too Now I'm running on empty I need to refuel Sat across from a man so doped up That he's starting to drool To make it through a world so cruel I'm gonna need to pull up a barstool Nothing left in my glass To keep my mind still I think it's time to refill Boom! Boom. Boom... Can't get onto that couch again Sat there while you poked around in my mind And I didn't even know it  Yeah, it helped back then  But there's more barriers now A terrain once easy to navigate  Is now a mine field  That's ready to blow Yeah, it's ready to blow Boom! What was I so worried about Why was I shaking Did I cry over a guy Boom. Stressed out over meaningless things Couldn't see the good things Life continuously brings  Boom... Feels pretty damn good To finally at least feel okay Even if it's just for part of the day Boom! Boom. Boom... Same pill, same time, same day Not how I want to live  Not that way No not today I'd say not tomorrow  But will tomorrow even come This is what I deal with Where's that thought even from  My life's not that bad But on any given day  I go from passive to sad In three seconds flat  Really, why's my brain Dropping bombs like that  Boom! What was I so worried about Why was I shaking Did I cry over a guy Boom. Stressed out over meaningless things Couldn't see the good things Life continuously brings  Boom... Feels pretty damn good To finally at least feel okay Even if it's just for part of the day Boom! Boom. Boom... Don't want your bottle of solutions  That'll only help until they don't  Or until I won't  Or my body just can't  When I take a nosedive  Into the dark recesses of my mind I need something to lift me up Raise me up high  Why blackout on the ground  When I can light up in the sky Boom! What was I so worried about Why was I shaking Did I cry over a guy Boom. Stressed out over meaningless things Couldn't see the good things Life continuously brings  Boom... Feels pretty damn good To finally at least feel okay Even if it's just for part of the day Boom! Boom. Boom... Big Girl Boots Lace me up (up, up, up) Prepare me Don't scare me Already shaking Beneath this stadium floor Gladiatorial tour Eyes on me Waiting for me to fall Or throw up my liver In the bathroom stall Torch those tennis shoes! Torch your opinions of me. You want to send me flowers? Torch your roses Torture to have your eyes on me I'm in my big girl boots I can handle chaos in large doses My big girl boo-oo boo-oo Boo-oo-oots My big girl boots! Will I bleed Will I scar Will I drink and drive Just to crash another car Everyone's waiting on me to relapse I will not give in I will not collapse These boots hold me up When the world pulls me down Torch those tennis shoes! Torch your opinions of me. You want to send me flowers? Torch your roses Torture to have your eyes on me I'm in my big girl boots I can handle chaos in large doses My big girl boo-oo boo-oo Boo-oo-oots My big girl boots! Pop girl here Came to rock and roll Rock and roll band here Singin the blues No genre limits Not on this road Only wear big boy shoes As they tap to the beat If you only came for one thing Better give up your seat Torch those tennis shoes! Torch your opinions of me. You want to send me flowers? Torch your roses Torture to have your eyes on me I'm in my big girl boots I can handle chaos in large doses My big girl boo-oo boo-oo Boo-oo-oots My big girl boots! Ricochet I am on the road I'm on the run  Engaged in an arms race But forgot my gun What a sickening sound The way you recoil  Should've kept that safety on You shot, you missed Bet you didn't know those were  Poisoned lips that you kissed  You've unleashed a crazy woman Unearthed a fearless warrior Took aim at a retched soul  Give it some time Your misfirings will take their toll  Ricochet-et-et Pulled the trigger But you won't hit me, No, not today-ay-ay Each time you shoot at me That bullet's coming back to you  Ricochet-et-et Ricochet.  Don't even think about Raiding this caravan  I'm a caring woman  But I still have eyes on my back  Friends watch my six Armed with stones and sticks  I know what makes you tick I am the arms of the clock  I'll decide when Enough is enough  And when the end Of this war has come  Ricochet-et-et Pulled the trigger But you won't hit me, No, not today-ay-ay Every time you shoot at me That bullet's coming back to you  Ricochet-et-et Ricochet.  Bullets bouncing everywhere  Did you really think that I would not hear About the guns you played with  When I wasn't looking?  Caught a whiff of the lies You always seem to be cooking.  Don't hurt yourself trying to reload, It'll all be in vain. My rhyming ass already hit the road,  Ears ready to hear you cry out in pain.  Ricochet-et-et Pulled the trigger But you won't hit me, No, not today-ay-ay Every time you shoot at me That bullet's coming back to you  Ricochet-et-et Ricochet.  It Hurts If I ain't screamin I ain't happy Don't need roses Poems are sappy Step back, step off Why don't you jerk off If you ain't hard enough To hurt me. If this ice cream Is labeled vanilla You can keep it, That shit ain't for me. I demand some with a kick, A slap or a hit. Make me say ay, papi Till my head game is sloppy Won't let nothing stop me Or you. Can't wait to put you on... lock And all I want is your... cock Ohhhhhhhh If your loving ain't... pain, Then I don't want it. Boys make it... rain, I need a man to make it storm Until my clothes are... torn And my body is... worn Ohhhhh fuck It Hurts, your lovin', It Hurts Hurt Me! Be the needle in my arm Come on and cause me harm As I come down from the high Won't you be my paul bearing guy  Fantasize about how my blood might taste Does that make me a vampire  Or masochistic waste  With the devil's arms Wrapped around my waist  Let me sink into this bed Come on, watch me drown  Life keeps slipping away  Cuz' I'm going down  Down, Down to where I belong  Dancing to Satan's song  Not expected to care  Not told to be strong  Yeah, I'm going down  I don't want to be your one and done cure I want to be your everyday drug Loving shouldn't be this pure Make this dirty Begging you to hurt me! Hurt me! Hurt me! Ohhhhhhhh Just don't desert me Hurt me! Hurt me! Fucking hurt me Be the liquor in my bottle Inebriate my ability to handle the throttle As my liver dies inside my body Will you wish to be the one to stop me Curious about the liquid on your lips I gave up the bottle But your lips I can't quit If I drink off them Do I still get my chip Sure I'm still sober This was just a slip Into the dark I go Where the shadows become one With those whose form they steal Into the dark I go Where the devil forged my name on his deal I don't want to be your one and done cure I want to be your everyday drug Loving shouldn't be this pure Make this dirty Begging you to hurt me! Hurt me! Hurt me! Ohhhhhhhh Just don't desert me Hurt me! Hurt me! Fucking hurt me Na-na-na-narcan in my system You you you weren't supposed to save me You were supposed to dig my grave Pump vitamins and fluids into my veins You you you were supposed to let me die Not be the hero I Never needed Never wanted Never even asked for I am evil's whore Flirting with darkness and death High on the flames Produced by Hades' lungs Funeral song has been sung I don't want to be your one and done cure I want to be your everyday drug Loving shouldn't be this pure Make this dirty Begging you to hurt me! Hurt me! Hurt me! Ohhhhhhhh Just don't desert me Hurt me! Hurt me! Fucking hurt me! Daddy Hose me down, I'm a naughty girl Make my day, pull the trigger daddy Haven't known you Since before mommy had me You hate how I turned out Should've tried to raise me After you left The world learned to praise me Jealous of the light You tried to trap me in the dirt I earned that name The first night I lifted up my skirt I'm not your Daddy's Daddy's Daddy's Girl Not the center of his whole world I'm not your Daddy's Daddy's Daddy's Girl But I'm scared I might be him one day Call me Daddy, boy Spank me, I'm a very bad girl Take away my pain, light me up daddy This bullet in my chest would've killed If you'd given me a heart Took it with you when you left You shot a hollow doll Not quite porcelain I didn't shatter Still you shed your own blood Acted like it didn't even matter I'm not your Daddy's Daddy's Daddy's Girl Not the center of his whole world I'm not your Daddy's Daddy's Daddy's Girl But I'm scared I might be him one day Call me Daddy, boy Only daddy-daughter dates Were at the end of a gun Passed this on down Yeah, do you remember your son Runaway daddy drove my brother insane Broke him down, he lived to cause me pain Took after Mommy You like how I fight back Take joy as your sight Fades to eternal black I'm not your Daddy's Daddy's Daddy's Girl Not the center of his whole world I'm not your Daddy's Daddy's Daddy's Girl But I'm scared I might be him one day Call me Daddy, boy Runaway Man Wish you had left me for dead At least that would mean We made it till death do us part  Burn me at the stake  For crimes against man Don't give me a break Break my heart  Turn into the marathon man Got miles to go  Until I can't reach you  Tried so hard to teach you I'm not the woman you leave  Throw it in reverse Got tread marks leading to you  With my money in your backseat Gotta know I'm gunnin' for ya Runaway Man, doin things Only runaways can  Runaway Man No sense of responsibility  Would've hurt less  If you just killed me  Left me with no booze  In the bottle  Now my hand's on the throttle Eyes see clearly what's ahead  What looks like a man Will soon be dead I'll make roadkill Out of all that flesh If I put your body in my trunk Does that make this a muscle car Or a hearse?  Throw it in reverse Got tread marks leading to you  With my money in your backseat Gotta know I'm gunnin' for ya Runaway Man, doin things Only runaways can  Runaway Man Dropping you off Where the highway don't go  Where your body lands No one will know  Peacefulness left in my rear view  In pieces is how I'll leave you  Will you decay  Become one with the dirt road  Will you burn  Become the ashes in my throat Either way you'll never run again  Driving you to a dead end  Throw it in reverse Got tread marks leading to you  With my money in your backseat Gotta know I'm gunnin' for ya Runaway Man, doin things Only runaways can  Runaway Man