#sorry i know that's probably a full on pathologic tag at this point but it's the fae fairy version here in my original work teehee | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aqua-murphys-law · 4 years

Text

when it rains

Rating: K+ Warnings: panic attacks, breakdowns, self-depreciating thoughts Summary:

i’m only honest when it rains if i time it right, the thunder breaks when i open my mouth i wanna tell you but i don’t know how

~*~

With a life like Milo’s, it’s only a matter of time before he can’t just grin and bear it anymore. Some times are less convenient than others.

A/N: This started out as a purely self-indulgent “let Milo get angry and upset” whump fic, but hooooo boy there’s a lot to unpack now. My headcanons just will not give me a break. But hey, y’all get a +6k word fic out of the deal, so enjoy!

Check replies for a link to read on A03 for full tags, cause Tumblr hates links apparently! - Aqua

~*~

Of all the ways Milo Murphy has traveled to school, clinging to the top of a runaway ice cream stand that’s surfing a massive wave of pistachios is certainly one of the more palatable ones.

Hah, palatable- he almost makes the joke out loud, but between Zack’s screaming and Melissa’s shrieking laughter and the roar of wind and veering traffic in their ears, they probably won’t hear him. He files that pun away for later and turns his focus to their inevitable stopping; there’s a fountain up ahead that’s about the right height.

Adjusting his grip, Milo climbs over to the side of the stand, throwing its weight to the left. That changes its trajectory just enough to crash right into the fountain, tipping them and all the stand’s contents over into the small ocean of pistachios below. It’s like falling into a ball pit- if the balls in ball pits were tiny green nuts with miscellaneous ice cream sundae ingredients scattered about. Either way, it’s a soft enough landing, and the momentum carries them further down the road before the ground flattens out and they finally roll to a stop.

As fate would have it, the tidal wave of debris has carried them right to the school crosswalk, minutes before first bell. There’s a small group of their classmates waiting to cross, gaping at the wreckage. Milo picks himself out of the mess and dusts his knees off before helping Zack to his feet.

“Watch out for the banana peels,” Milo cautions. “They’re just as slippery in real life as they are in cartoons.”

Zack catches his breath. “Dude, that was kinda awesome.”

Milo’s heart swells happily, and he grins. “I’d say that’s one of our most palatable adventures yet.”

Zack’s eyes light up as he catches on, nudging Milo with his elbow. “It sherbet was!”

“No puns this early in the morning,” Melissa groans, picking pistachios out of her hair.

Milo digs a brush out of his backpack and hands it to her. “Sorry, Melissa,” he says good-naturedly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Zack says, “we know you don’t… cone-done that behavior.”

Milo hides a laugh behind his hand while Melissa lightly punches Zack’s arm before continuing to brush out the pistachios. Then he takes a second to look over the damage again, double-checking no one got caught in the crossfire. It’s a good thing the stand hadn’t been open yet when that freighter full of pistachios exploded-

“Stop! Milo.”

Milo looks over at the familiar voice, smiling. “Hi, Elliot.”

As always, the crossing guard is brandishing his stop sign at them. His attention seems to be split between staring at Milo and staring at the heap of food in the street.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “We’re already stopped,” she points out, passing the brush back to Milo. “You know, just a group of middle school kids, waiting for the crossing guard to help them cross the street?”

“Yeah,” Zack adds, “your job?”

Elliot makes a disbelieving sound. “What, the giant mountain of walnuts hasn’t stopped traffic enough as it is?”

“Actually, they’re pistachios,” Milo says helpfully, tucking the brush away. “And sure, but it’s really best to wait for authorized personnel to formally halt the flow of traffic using proper signage instead of taking your chances.”

“I know that!” Elliot protests, sounding irritable. He holds the stop sign out, gesturing with his other hand for them all to cross. “Alright, move it along, people…”

Milo is happy to do so, leaving Elliot’s grumbling behind. It’s always a good morning when he actually makes it to school, and on time. Walking beside him, Melissa’s already whipped her phone out to share the pictures she took during all the excitement, snickering at the way Zack’s eyes widen. Milo chuckles to himself; how she manages to get such incredible shots, he’ll never know.

They reach the sidewalk on the other side without incident. He can hear the echoes of sirens from responding emergency vehicles starting up across town and knows they’ll be at the scene in a couple minutes. That makes him feel better about heading inside before they arrive, though he laments the fact that he won’t get to thank them personally-

“You know, Murphy, these catastrophes would be a lot more bearable if you took them seriously.”

Milo pauses, tilting his head. Melissa and Zack are already frowning at Elliot, but he wants to make sure he’s accurately identified the disdain in Elliot’s voice and isn’t just missing sarcasm again.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Elliot folds his arms with a huff, his stop sign sticking out at an angle. “I mean, you walk around with that grin on your face, brushing everything off like it’s no big deal.” He scowls at Milo over his glasses. “Do you even care about all the chaos you leave in your wake?”

Milo blinks, his smile faltering. Is that the impression people get from him?

Zack steps forward. “Hey man, back off,” he snaps at Elliot.

“Yeah,” Melissa chimes in, folding her arms, “you’re just bitter because people keep assuming you’re in your thirties.” She jerks her chin over at the doors. “Come on, Milo.”

Milo manages to smile again, but it feels strained. “Elliot, I can assure you that I understand the severity of Murphy’s Law,” he says carefully, moving to follow Melissa up the rest of the stairs.

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it,” Elliot gripes after them, a parting jab.

Milo should let it go, he knows he should. This is just how Elliot is; there’s no way somebody so pathologically obsessed with safety would ever see Milo as anything more than a hazard. But this is more than simply placing blame on him for Murphy’s Law. That, he’s used to. He can handle that.

What he can’t stand for is the implication that he doesn’t care when people get hurt. Not when he works so hard to avoid it- often at the expense of his own wellbeing. If he only worried about himself, Murphy’s Law would be exponentially easier to deal with. Most people don’t realize that.

He stops walking, turning to look Elliot dead in the eye. “What’s the alternative?” he asks, his face blank and voice held carefully neutral.

Elliot’s clearly surprised at the question. He hesitates, shooting a wary look at Melissa and Zack, before he manages a shrug. “I don’t know, just some indication that you’re actually sorry for everything going wrong all the time?”

Milo’s grip on his backpack goes white-knuckled. “You think I should feel sorry?” he asks quietly.

Elliot flounders for a second. “I, uh… well, yes?”

It’s one thing for Milo to impulsively feel responsible for any destruction caused by Murphy’s Law, before he can remind himself that it’s not his fault. But it’s another thing entirely for someone to tell him that he should feel that way, all the time.

“What would you like me to do?” he presses. “Walk around with my head hung low, overcome with guilt every time Murphy’s Law happens? Apologize constantly when the majority of the people in my life have been dealing with it for years? Or- or beat myself up over something I can’t change or control?”

Elliot’s eyes widen, his brows shooting up to his hairline. “Now listen, that’s not exactly what I said-”

“But it’s what you meant, right?” Milo asks in a voice he doesn’t recognize. It’s white-hot with anger, and he can feel the glare that’s drawing his eyebrows down into a point, the way it’s narrowing his eyes. It’s an unfamiliar expression.

Oh, this is dangerous territory. Anger isn’t safe; it clouds the mind and fosters rash decisions, preventing one from thinking clearly. He can’t afford to have his judgement skewed, his reaction time hampered by the distraction of wrestling emotions under control. Not here, when there’s so many people around who could get hurt by his inability to act if something were to happen.

Melissa tugs Milo by the arm, trying to pull him away. “Milo, come on, he’s not worth it,” she says, her voice low and urgent.

The concern in her voice pricks at him. He’s aware, to some degree, that they’ve attracted an audience; the other kids that crossed with them are lingering, whispering to each other. He’s aware that his heart is starting to race and his skin feels flushed, the unpleasant physical effects of anger. And he’s especially aware of Zack’s gaze on him, what he must be thinking of the whole situation.

But Milo abruptly finds that he doesn’t care. Maybe that should concern him, too.

Elliot holds up his hands, something akin to panic flashing across his face. “Hey, look, I didn’t-”

“If I let myself feel bad every time Murphy’s Law happened, I’d never stop,” Milo says sharply. “Do you realize that? You’re only exposed to Murphy’s Law in the brief moments I’m around you. But for me, it never ends. It doesn’t have a weekly schedule, it doesn’t take days off. It doesn’t even stop when I’m asleep. And I will be dealing with it for the rest of my life.”

A horrible silence follows, even Elliot seeming lost for words.

Chills erupt across Milo’s skin. The fiery anger inside him suddenly extinguishes, leaving him cold and hollow. He’s struck with the realization that in his lashing out, he’s only just upset himself more. Because he doesn’t like to think about the future, about how everything he’s experienced so far in his short life is just the tip of the iceberg, and there he goes, now he’s thinking about it-

Something wet runs down his cheek.

Instinctively, Milo looks up to find the source. But there aren’t any clouds in the sky threatening a sudden downpour, no leaky pipes or anything else to drip water on him. Brows knitting in confusion, he absently reaches a hand up to his face.

Then his eyes start to sting as his vision blurs, and it hits him.

He’s crying.

… he’s crying?

A sound gets choked in his throat, something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. Horror sweeps through him but it’s rapidly being outdone by the overwhelming hysteria.

Oh no. No, no, no, he can’t be crying, not here. He stumbles away from Elliot, his backpack hitting the stair railing with a soft thud, and presses the heels of his palms against his burning eyes. Stop, stop, stop! Colors bloom behind his closed lids, intensifying as he increases the pressure until it’s almost painful, desperately willing the tears to go away.

He’s not supposed to be crying at school. If there’s anything more distracting than anger, it’s crying. There are too many people around him, something could go wrong at any second and he won’t be able to protect them like this- something could be going wrong right now and he won’t notice because he’s too busy falling to pieces.

Panic kicks in, and the harsh echo in his ears tells him he’s hyperventilating. That’s definitely not helping, but the part of him that realizes this is remarkably absent, like he’s become disconnected from his own body.

The rest of him is pretty sure he’s about to die. And not in the way he’s familiar with.

Two hands circle his wrists, pulling them down from his eyes in a grip that’s gentle yet firm. Melissa’s face swims into focus.

~*~

Melissa searches Milo’s face, her heart sinking.

“Milo?” she tries. “You okay?”

Milo doesn’t respond, but he squeezes his eyes shut, sending a few more tears streaking down his face. She can feel his pulse jumping under the scarred skin of his wrists. His heartbeat, normally so steady, is running fast and erratic.

Something is very wrong.

“Woah, uh, is he okay?” Elliot asks, alarmed.

“You don’t get to talk,” Melissa hisses at him before turning back to Milo. It’s incredibly hard to push her anger down, but she has to, for his sake. “Milo,” she says, softer, “it’s me. You’re alright. We’re gonna go somewhere else, okay?”

Milo still doesn’t respond, but he curls a little closer to her. Melissa takes a second to shoot a warning look at the other kids gathered around. “Give us some space,” she orders them. And then, “Zack, you’re with me.”

They must hear the barely restrained fury in her voice, because the doors are cleared in record time. Zack unfreezes and swiftly places himself on the other side of Milo, his hands fidgeting like he isn’t sure what to do with them.

Gently, Melissa starts leading Milo up the stairs, into the school. Thankfully, he follows. He seems to be in a daze, too focused on his internal panic to take notice of what’s going on around him. Melissa is suddenly very grateful that she and Zack are here, because if Milo were alone in such a state, he wouldn’t be able to protect himself from any Murphy’s Law incidents.

Speaking of Zack, the other boy has moved slightly in front of them, paving a way through the various students still lingering in the halls before class.

“Where to?” he asks over his shoulder, voice tight with worry.

“Somewhere quiet and out of the way.”

“Under the stairwell?”

Melissa follows Zack’s gaze to the stairwell before nodding swiftly. They make a beeline for it, swerving only to avoid a ceiling tile that drops out of its frame above them. She catches the edge of it with her shoe and sends it skidding along the floor, out of the way. Serves it right.

She ducks under the stairwell, careful to pull Milo down after her so he doesn’t hit his head. The little alcove is a bit dusty, but it’s quiet and away from prying eyes, so it’ll do. She shrugs her backpack off and sits against the wall, taking Milo’s weight.

He leans on her heavily, like he doesn’t have the energy to hold himself upright. She’s tempted to slip off his backpack as well, since that’s probably accounting for a third of his weight right now, but she knows that would only make him panic further.

He’s still breathing way too fast for her liking, blinking rapidly to try and fight back tears. The glassy look in his eyes is so unlike him, it makes her heart clench painfully.

Zack’s voice hovers anxiously somewhere above her. “Has this happened before?”

“Not in public,” Melissa answers shortly. Then she swallows hard and forces her voice to come out calm and gentle. “Hey Milo, you with me?”

It takes a second for Milo to find her eyes, trembling all the while.

Melissa holds his gaze, pouring as much reassurance into it as she can. “Good, that’s good. Zack’s here with us. Is that alright?”

Milo doesn’t look over at Zack, but he manages a nod.

“Okay,” Melissa murmurs. She takes a quick look to make sure no one’s wandering by the stairwell before turning back to Milo. “We’re alone now, just us three. We’re safe.” She takes a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

Milo’s face crumples. “Melissa-”

He finally breaks, burying his face in her shoulder. His sobs are partially muffled by her jacket- which is quickly becoming damp- but she can feel the force of each one, the way his chest heaves for breath. He holds her arms like his life depends on it, pressing close to her as if he’s trying to hide away from the world.

Even though she’s preparing herself for it, hearing him cry brings a fresh wave of tears to her own eyes. Stubbornly, she stares up at the ceiling until they recede. She can’t break down right now. Milo needs her.

Think about something else, something funny. Like how great it’s going to feel to get Elliot back for this. There’s a petting zoo service nearby that rents out ducks. If she places an order soon, she could probably get them before Monday. How many ducks is too many, she wonders?

“So hey, uh, what’s going on?” Zack’s low murmur brings her out of the daydream. He’s looking at Milo with a stricken expression. “Is he going to be okay?”

Melissa exhales, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “He will be,” she says softly. “He’s just overwhelmed.”

Zack runs a hand through his hair. “Is- is there anything I can do?” he asks helplessly.

There isn’t much, but she can tell just from looking at him that his anxiety is skyrocketing right now, on the verge of his own panic attack. Giving him something, anything else to focus on might help.

“Keep people off us, and watch for any trouble,” Melissa decides.

It’s strange to think that she’s only known this boy for a few months, yet she’d trust him with hers and Milo’s wellbeing. But Zack’s proven he can handle Murphy’s Law, and she knows he’ll protect them with everything he’s got.

She’s proven right when Zack’s expression hardens, and he nods. Turning around, he goes to stand at the mouth of the alcove, blocking her and Milo from view of the hallway. His hands twitch at his sides, ready to act. Just like that.

Not for the first time, Melissa is thankful that Zack became their friend. Milo chose well.

And speaking of Milo, the panic seems to have finally ebbed. Now it’s just regular crying, without the hyperventilating and shaking. The knot in her stomach loosens, but only slightly- they aren’t out of the woods yet.

Gently, she drums her fingers along his spine, beating a soothing rhythm against the body armor he wears under his clothes. The muffled thuds are too light for him to feel; it’s really just so he has a sound to focus on. She’s found that helps, in the past.

But she doesn’t try to shush him. Now that he’s actually crying, he needs to get it all out. She tries to imagine that her arms around Milo are a safety net, allowing him to be vulnerable without fear. She hopes he can pick up on it.

The next several minutes pass in relative calm- if holding your friend while he has a breakdown can be considered calm. A couple times, Melissa catches wind of something going on in the hallway, some likely improbable object coming their way. But thanks to Zack’s vigilance, nothing comes close, letting her focus all her attention on Milo.

It’s not long after second bell when Milo starts to come back to himself. His grip on her arms tightens and then immediately slackens, and the next breath he takes is a deep one, though it shudders on the exhale.

There are a couple moments where Milo is still and quiet, just the occasional sniffle as his breathing evens out. Then he pulls back enough to look at Melissa, his eyes red and teary but no longer vacant.

“Melissa?” he breathes, his voice small.

Melissa lets out a sigh of relief, managing a tired smile. “There you are.”

“Hey, buddy.” As relieved as Melissa feels, Zack sounds about a hundred times more so. He kneels down next to them, his hand once again awkwardly hovering over Milo’s shoulder before retreating. “How you feeling?”

Milo glances around, taking in their surroundings. Melissa can almost see the moment realization hits; his mouth presses into a tight line before he looks away, wiping at his eyes. “Guys, I- I am so sorry-”

“Don’t you dare,” Melissa cuts him off sternly.

Milo swallows hard, tucking his knees to his chest. “But it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have lost my cool back there,” he mumbles guiltily. “It was just Elliot being, y- you know, Elliot, and I got-”

“Rightfully upset,” Melissa finishes for him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, dude, you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Zack agrees.

Milo’s smile is thin, but his eyes are thoughtful. Melissa hopes they’ve gotten through to him. She isn’t going to push it any more, though, not right now.

“Now, c’mon, let’s get off the floor,” she says, straightening up. “My legs are falling asleep.”

Milo accepts the hand she offers him, letting her pull him up and out from under the stairwell. He looks a little shaky on his feet, his face still paler than normal, but he jolts when he notices the clock.

“Oh no, we’re late for first period. We’d better-”

“Nuh uh.” Melissa holds fast to his arm. “After a bout like that, you need to go home and rest.”

Milo hesitates. “I miss so much school already…”

Melissa shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Mental health days are included under excused absences, you know. We’ll let the teachers know and grab your homework for you.”

“Seriously, it’s alright,” Zack says softly.

Milo studies them both before nodding. “Okay,” he relents. “Thanks.”

Melissa whips out her phone to text his mom. As she does so, she notices Milo is starting to lean against Zack for support. The other boy doesn’t seem to mind, his arm automatically shifting around Milo’s shoulders. It seems his earlier reservations are gone, now that Milo’s sought out the contact. It’s a cute sight.

“Alright,” Melissa tucks her phone away, “your mom’s on her way over. I asked her to meet us in the back lot, just in case the jerk-who-shall-not-be-named is still skulking around.”

Milo nods slightly, giving her a grateful smile before his gaze lowers again.

Now that he’s given up on toughing out the day, he’s starting to withdraw. He doesn’t always go nonverbal after a crying spell, but the panic attack has to have done a number on him.

They aren’t common for Milo, panic attacks. Melissa knows his stress response is… highly abnormal. Even before she met him, he’d been living in a constant state of stress for years. She’s not sure if he’s learned to tune it out, or if his body has just stopped responding to common stressors by this point. But she knows he rarely gets a physical reaction to danger, that ‘fight or flight’ response that spikes you up with adrenaline.

This is clearly a different ball game. The only time she can recall anything remotely similar to this happening was the first time she got seriously hurt by Murphy’s Law. And it didn’t even happen on the spot; he hadn’t broken down until visiting her in the hospital after the fact.

That was a long time ago, but it left quite the impression. The hyperventilating and shaking, she remembers. And that distant, glassy expression. It was something she hoped she’d never have to witness again, but of course, life has other plans.

Not that she blames Milo for it. After all, however difficult this is for her, it’s much, much worse for him. Losing control of his emotions hits him hard, because his life is already so out of control as it is. The one thing he should always have control over is himself, but he doesn’t.

And even though she’s long since made peace with the idea that life isn’t fair, this feels particularly, especially unfair. With all the danger Murphy’s Law brings, Milo shouldn’t have to deal with guilt, judgmental crossing guards, or a misplaced sense of responsibility so severe that he feels like he isn’t even allowed to cry.

Her expression must be troubled, because Milo lightly bumps against her arm. By the time she looks over, he’s already averted his gaze again- eye contact is probably a bit much for him right now- but she appreciates the gesture anyways.

‘Don’t worry,’ he seems to be saying.

Well… she can try not to, for his sake.

~*~

Zack can’t help stealing glances at Milo as they make their way down the hall.

He knows he shouldn’t be staring, because Milo doesn’t seem too keen on eye contact at the moment. It’s just hard to resist the urge to check up on him. Most of Zack’s focus was on keeping Murphy’s Law at bay, so he couldn’t really keep tabs on how the situation was going.

He can’t shake how jarring it was to see Milo like that. It’s a very good thing Melissa was there to snap him into action, because if she hadn’t, he probably would’ve just stood there frozen like a complete idiot, not helping the situation at all.

And how sad is that? Milo saves Zack over and over again, every time disaster strikes, but the one time Milo really needs him, Zack’s totally useless.

He should’ve seen that the conversation was going south and shut it down. He should’ve stood up for Milo more, or tried to get him out of the situation. He should’ve-

There’s a slight tug at the hem of his shirt. When he turns his head, he finds Milo’s hand gripping there. Not pulling, or trying to get his attention- Milo’s facing straight ahead, eyes downcast. Just, holding. Whether it’s an attempt to give comfort or receive it, Zack’s not sure.

But it does give him something else to focus on, aside from the spiraling thoughts in his head, and he smiles softly. Just in case Milo can see it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a good reminder; there’s no point in dwelling on the past. He needs to keep moving forward, like Milo does.

They reach the back doors without issue, and are greeted by an empty parking lot. Fortunately, there aren’t any late stragglers- aside from them, of course. It’s a nice day, not too cold, so Zack doesn’t mind waiting a few minutes. Maybe the fresh air will help Milo. It’s certainly helping Zack.

He lets out a deep breath, feeling a little better for it. Milo settles further against his side while they wait, his cheek pressed against Zack’s shoulder. That steals the breath Zack just got back, but that’s the least of his concerns right now.

He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when Mrs. Murphy’s car pulls into the lot. Milo perks up a bit, though still remains silent as his mother exits the car. She takes in Milo’s current state with no comment, just a sad, knowing look in her eyes, and Zack wonders if this is more common than he realized.

“You ready to go, honey?” she asks kindly.

Milo hesitates for a second, then turns and abruptly gives a hug to the both of them. It’s a quick thing, but Zack feels his face heat up immediately; Milo’s never hugged him before. And that thought is followed by his heart swelling almost painfully, because Milo’s never hugged him before. With that context, it’s a deeply touching gesture.

After stepping away, Milo darts over to his mom, hiding his face in her side. She smooths a hand over his hair, murmuring something too low for Zack to hear, before smiling at them gratefully. “Thanks, you two.”

“No problem, Mrs. Murphy,” Melissa replies. “Feel better soon, Milo.”

“Yeah, take it easy,” Zack calls after them.

The car pulls away, and Zack can see Diogee clambering into Milo’s lap before they’re out of view. That makes him feel a little better. Still, he sends a quick prayer to the universe that the car ride goes smoothly, without any Murphy’s Law incidents. Milo really deserves a break.

Next to him, Melissa stands motionless, watching the car leave. Zack clears his throat. “Well, we should probably head back…”

Melissa shakes her head, sitting down on the steps. “First period’s already half-over by now, no point in going.” She shrugs. “Plus, we need to talk this out, or it’ll turn into one of those weird unspoken things.”

“Oh.” Hesitantly, Zack sits down next to her. If Melissa is willing to play hooky, it must be important. “Alright, then.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of distant traffic. He’d been expecting Melissa to start the conversation, but she seems to be waiting for him, instead. Waiting to see what his reaction is.

It hadn’t taken long for Melissa to go from ‘Milo’s only other friend’ to ‘Milo and Zack’s friend.’ Once she warmed up to him, she’d moved right along to acting like they’d known each other for years. But they certainly haven’t had any deep, serious discussions before. He’s not quite sure how to proceed.

Zack rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “So, uh… that happened.”

“Yep.” Melissa exhales heavily, but her expression is sympathetic. “I’m sorry you weren’t more prepared, it’s just that he tries to handle these things privately.”

Zack frowns. “These things? What do you mean?”

Melissa stares out over the parking lot, her brows knit together. “Milo breaks bones on a monthly basis. He comes away with some kind of injury on a near-daily basis. And the constant threat of danger plus the massive amount of effort required to deal with it would be enough to drive anyone to tears.”

“And…?” Zack prompts, confused.

Melissa glances at him out of the side of her eye. “Before now, have you ever seen him cry?”

Zack opens his mouth to reply, ‘Of course I have!’ because surely it would’ve happened at some point. He knows Milo gets hurt frequently, he’s watched it happen. But as he thinks about it, he can’t actually recall a time when tears were involved. Not even for broken bones.

“I… woah, you’re right,” Zack realizes, his stomach dropping.

Melissa nods grimly. “He doesn’t like crying. Says it messes with his ability to react to Murphy’s Law. So he just… doesn’t let himself cry, most of the time, no matter how hurt he gets. It’s been like that for as long as I’ve known him.”

It takes a second for the full implications to hit Zack. “Wait, didn’t you guys meet when you were six?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” Zack swallows. They might be old enough now that crying isn’t as common, but Milo’s been like this since he was six, possibly younger. Zack himself was a bit of a crybaby at that age, even a skinned knee sending him into hysterics.

And sure, maybe it’s embarrassing to look back on, but that’s normal for little kids.

Milo didn’t get to have that.

“That’s… kinda sad,” Zack murmurs.

“I know,” Melissa sighs. “Of course, he can’t bottle it up forever. And crying is an important chemical release, it’s healthy. So he just puts it off until he’s safe at home, usually on a weekend. That way, he’s got his family there to look out for him, and he doesn’t have to worry about anyone else getting caught up in Murphy’s Law. I’ve only been there for a handful of them, but he probably goes for months in between. It’s… a lot of buildup.”

The pieces are starting to fall into place. Zack inhales sharply. “So, when he does finally let himself cry…”

Melissa gives him a thin smile. “Well, you know what they say. When it rains, it pours.” She wraps her arms around herself. “But this time was worse than normal, because he was having a panic attack on top of it. He really didn’t want to break down at school.”

Zack nods slowly, brows furrowing. “Wow. I had no idea.”

Melissa makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s not your fault, he doesn’t like people to know.”

Alarm shoots through Zack. This is a deeply personal aspect of Milo’s life. What if he wasn’t ready for Zack to see it? What if Zack’s intruding?

Melissa must have noticed the panic on his face, because she waves him off. “Don’t worry, him letting you stay was giving permission for me to tell you this. Just, people, in general. He puts a lot of work into staying upbeat all the time, and he doesn’t want that ruined by something like this.”

Zack chews on his lip, only slightly relieved. Quite a few people saw the beginning of the whole thing. “Is he gonna be okay? I know it was just some kids from class, but…”

“I think he will be,” Melissa says thoughtfully. “He’s been branching out a lot more this year, in terms of making friends.” She smiles faintly at him. “We’ve got you to thank for that.”

The sudden diverge throws Zack for a loop. “What do you mean?”

Melissa leans back on her elbows, contemplative. “I mean, if Milo and I started a band last year, Mort wouldn’t have dreamed of joining. If we’d been crazy enough to have a birthday party, no one would’ve come. For as long as all of us here can remember, Milo’s just had me. But seeing you give him a chance… I don’t know, I think it’s helped them realize they don’t have to stay so far away.”

Zack’s stunned. “I… guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

That’s an understatement. Zack found his place so readily within this new school that he hadn’t stopped to consider what things had been like before. He knows Milo didn’t have any close friends aside from Melissa, but had the other kids in class always been nothing more than scant acquaintances? Was it new for them to engage Milo in conversation or willingly be around him?

Then Zack thinks back to the day they met, at the bus stop. The way the other kids there had immediately scrambled away from Milo, expressions full of fear. And he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

Melissa hums. “Yep. You’re a trendsetter.”

Zack rubs his arm, embarrassed. He really doesn’t deserve accolades just for giving Milo a chance. “So… do you cry often?” he ventures, changing the subject.

Melissa rolls her eyes at him. “I’d say a normal amount, for someone in my circumstances. Whenever I’m seriously hurt, you can bet I’m crying about it. Not everyone can just block out that kind of pain.” Her expression sobers. “But even on the emotional side of things, if there’s ever a particularly rough day, then yeah, I’ll go home and cry it out. It’s a good release.”

“Huh.” Zack scratches his head. “Gotta say, I’m a little surprised. You seem to handle Murphy’s Law so well, you know?”

Melissa snorts. “Yeah, only because I let myself cry every now and them. No one can deal with all that disaster and destruction without it getting to them. Not even Milo.”

“Fair point,” Zack amends.

“So, what about you?” Melissa elbows him. “C’mon, don’t be a hypocrite.”

Zack flushes. “I mean, yeah, sometimes,” he admits. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be friends with Milo, but Murphy’s Law can be… stressful.” Particularly on top of his normal anxiety, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Melissa nods approvingly. “Good. Own it. Being part of a Murphy’s life has its ups and down. It also has its own set of rules.”

“Like what?” Zack asks, tilting his head.

“You need to make sure you relieve stress on a regular basis, whether that’s through crying or something else. And you need to relax on a regular basis, too. Not necessarily in that order,” she adds, as an afterthought.

Zack raises his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. Anything else I should be aware of?”

Melissa counts them off on her fingers. “Stay hydrated, get regular sleep, have a good amount of protein in the diet…”

“That just sounds like normal self-care stuff,” Zack points out flatly.

Melissa squints at him. “Touché.” Then she snaps her fingers. “Gargling salt water can help your throat recover from over-screaming. Oh, and Murphys are legally protected from being discriminated against by an accord written in the early 1900’s, so don’t be afraid to cite it. Also, Milo craves physical affection from those he’s close to, but he doesn’t feel he has the right to ask for it.”

Zack blinks. “Figure all this out yourself?”

“Nah, Mrs. Murphy had some tips.” Melissa’s humor fades. “Seriously though, I noticed your hesitation back there. That’s a good instinct, since plenty of people don’t like to be touched during panic attacks. But you don’t need to worry about it with Milo, that’s one of the few times he actually seeks out comfort.”

Zack jolts with surprise. He hadn’t though Melissa would pick up on that- at the time, he was hardly aware of what he was doing, himself. “Oh, alright then.”

“And just for the record,” Melissa’s expression turns mischievous, “if you were a little more forthcoming with physical affection on a day-to-day basis, I don’t think Milo would mind.”

Zack jumps to his feet like he’s been electrocuted, choking on air. “O- oh, sure, of course. Being close to Milo, I don’t have a problem with that, why would I have a problem with that?” he babbles, feeling his face heat up. “I mean, I don’t not have a problem with it, I mean, not more than the normal amount for two friends-” Okay, Zack, time to shut up now.

Melissa just snickers at him, standing up and dusting off her skirt. “C’mon, it’s about time to head in. Ready for a completely average, boring, uneventful day?”

Zack sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets with a rueful grin. “If we must.”

Maybe it’s not so bad to have a little time to process things, considering how much he has to process.

~*~

Milo’s only been curled up on the couch for a couple hours when his phone buzzes.

It’s a selfie from Melissa, in science class. She’s angled the phone to get Zack in the background of the shot; he’s clearly dozing, eyelids drooping as he rests his chin in his hand. Melissa’s giving the camera a knowing look, and the caption reads, ‘Someone’s missing you!’

Milo’s heart skips a beat. He quickly attributes it to surprise that Melissa is actually texting in class- though he knows she’s just checking in with him. It’s a thoughtful gesture, and he sends a couple emojis back. Words, even in text form, are still hard right now. But he knows she’ll understand, because she and Zack are the best friends a Murphy could ask for.

He’s lucky like that, to not have to weather this storm alone.

~*~

#milo murphy's law #mml #my writing

47 notes · View notes

jackrrabbit · 4 years

Text

ask answering pt. 1: general asks

ok @grlflesh you have to stop because this is lowkey the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said about my writing and omg. I’m so fucking soft I—

💖💘💝 THANK YOU!!!! 💝💘💖

idk what to say, ily ily ily, thank you and I hope you continue to enjoy my writing 💕💕 also if you have a playlist you listen to while reading my stuff, you should send it to me! I would love to give it a listen!!!!!!

general ask answering

not too personal at all! I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned my school on my main a few times so it’s out there. I live in NorCal and I go to a UC!!

three (super obvious) hints in case anyone wants to guess, in which case I might confirm or deny: my school is big on...

boba

riots

grade deflation

also anon you should message me as a fellow California dweller 👀 let’s commiserate about wildfires and housing prices <3

tell me why this pulled on my heartstrings a bit omg....sorry but I love you now

you, my tinder matches, and my long-distance friends should form a support group for people who never hear from me haha

hi there, I’m doing well! how are you? I hope you’re good :D

my favorite character to write is probably Dabi 🔥 he is a bastard and I love it. all the fucked up shit in his childhood and throughout his life makes him extremely fun to write, all his neuroticisms and pathologies and skewed patterns of development that inform who he is as a person (oops the psychology major jumped out). also he’s sexy in a bad way which I’m weak to

close runner up is probably Kamui from Gintama 🐇 which I know is kind of dirty bc I haven’t written anything for him on this blog (yet!!!) but I’ve written a ton of fanfic for him in the past. I like writing him for a lot of the same reasons I like writing Dabi actually...lots of similarities there. why are evil older siblings of main characters so sexy ugh

aww thank you!!! you should make one and tag me in it if you want anon 👀

also I RELATE TO THIS SO MUCH HOLY FUCK every time I read a fic about a character who’s like 5′9 and it’s like “he towered over you~~~~” I’m like,,,,, ok is he wearing stripper heels or stilts (to be fair I do this occasionally but pretty much only with characters who are over 6′).

honestly it is SUCH a struggle to have a size kink and be tall. but I feel like I can make up for it by being super physically weak lol if that makes sense??? like sure I’m the same height as Daichi from hq BUT an 11-year old girl could beat me arm-wrestling, so I could easily get tossed around and manhandled and that’s what’s important 😌 the size kink becomes a physical inferiority kink :P

thank you ahhhh i’m so in love with this ask (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) it’s my job to get you invested so I’m glad it’s working!!

regarding commissions: holy fuck I’m so flattered you would want to spend money on my writing??? I wish I could say yes but unfortunately my inspiration is really flaky and unreliable, and until I can be confident that I’m responsible enough to deliver what was paid for, I don’t think I’ll be doing commissions 😔 regardless, thanks for asking!! I might set up a ko-fi at some point but I’m not sure if that’s the right move or how it works really so who knows.

oh my god @study-milk I love you. wow.

rn I have a bunch of half-written fics that I’m trying to finish. currently I’m about 4k words into a Haikyuu fic with Kageyama x reader x Oikawa where [spoilers for my own writing] reader is dating Oikawa but she dated Kageyama in the past and Oikawa is like, ‘wouldn’t it be crazy if I let Tobio-chan fuck my girlfriend...haha jk.......unless?’

other WIPs I have that I haven’t mentioned before: a fluff/hurt-comfort piece about showering with Todoroki 🛁, some A/B/O smut about getting stuck in an elevator with alpha!Hawks while you’re an omega going into heat 🔥, and some poly relationship fluff with Iwaizumi and Oikawa 🌓. no promises tho!!

as always, I’m also working on my multi-part fics that are unfinished (Fanatic and it will come back). ahhhh I really hate going so long without updating, but it’s been difficult to get back into the flow of both of these and I feel like I’m putting too much pressure on myself about them so I’m going to try not to force it for now 😢

dw about it, I’m pretty sure no one’s asked before 😇

I put titles of full-length fics in bold (and include summaries/wordcount) on my masterlist, whereas I leave ficlets and headcanons in regular text. I don’t have a strict differentiation between full-length fics and ficlets, but I consider the cutoff around 1.5k words. hope this answers your question!

hmm I mostly focus on canon characters and reader insert? some of my writer bros have OCs that I love hearing about but I don’t have any of my own. they are definitely interesting tho, and if you’re considering making an OC, I would encourage you to do it!!!!! be creative buddy!!

ahh @nimandu my cute kouhai!!!!! I really love you so much 🥺👉👈 thank you for this wonderful message and for everything you write in the tags 💘 legit whenever I see that you reblogged one of my posts I’m like !!!! and I’m so excited to see what you think <33333 please have a good day as well

hi i just read this ask. I love you. the end.

jk don’t let this be the end, send me more asks like this pls, feed my praise kink omg 😂😂

#bunny talks #long post #about me #it's been a long ass time since I did one of these #wasn't able to answer everything but thank you everyone who sent me asks!!!!

28 notes · View notes

rt8815 · 4 years

Text

OC Ask Game

I was tagged by the amazing @illegalcerebral

I put a Keep Reading link because this is looong.

1) Name (and why you chose it if you like) McKinley Campbell Durand. I named her after McKinley Morganfield, better known as Muddy Waters. However, the “in universe?” reason that will be given - which I haven’t written yet - is that McKinley and Campbell are family names from a few generations back.

Campbell comes from the Gaelic words for ‘crooked’ and ‘mouth.’ I just like the name. Here’s a post (that I had to rewrite because Tumblr’s a dick and wouldn’t let me edit the typos in the original. The rewrite had typos too! Blargh!) that discusses her first and last names. I thought it would be funny for her full name to consist solely of last names.

2) Fandom and how they fit into the story Criminal Minds. She works at a D.C. museum practically around the corner from the J. Edgar Hoover building (as indicated in “Let It Bleed”). That’s a tiny hint that it’s the National Museum of African American History & Culture, but I don’t think I’ll mention it very often, if for no other reason than I’ve never been to the NMAAHC and don’t want to describe it inaccurately.

The official story is that Spencer and McKinley met at the museum (again, in “Let It Bleed,” which is probably the least favorite thing of mine that I’ve written). However, they’d met once before, and texted a few times after that. Because my brain is all over the place, and because I’m telling the story in non-chronological order, I haven’t written their first meeting yet. The only details I’ve revealed thus far are that it was nighttime in a park, McKinley caught Spencer off guard and made him fall to the ground, and whatever they talked about set Spencer straight and lifted his spirits. Also, a swingset was involved. Beyond that, I’ve inserted McKinley into the plotlines and events of the show, with necessary alterations, and there’s a ton of domestic Spencer and off-duty team stuffs.

3) Do they have any family? Biological family: daughter Sophie and son Jason; her Mom (no name yet); maternal grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins; and her estranged father (no name yet). Chosen/found family: husband Spencer; the BAU.

4) As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up? When she was a toddler, McKinley wanted to be a pediatrician (a doctor just for kids?! Cool!) or an ophthalmologist (she’s worn glasses practically her whole life). As an older child she aspired to be an entomologist or herpetologist. In her teenage years she considered a career in forensic pathology or criminal psychology. While earning her BA in English, she discovered that Public History was her true calling.

5) Their greatest dream To be a good Mom. To inspire learning in others.

6) Their worst nightmare Losing her family; having to see her father again.

7) Strengths Empathy, insight/self awareness, forgiving nature but knowing when to cut her losses

8) Weaknesses McKinley struggles with imposter syndrome.

She can be very mean. I mean, downright nasty cruel, verbally. This is rare though because, and I’m paraphrasing a future bit of dialogue here, anyone whose behavior could arguably warrant such a response is beneath her notice and not worth the effort. She’s more likely to close the door on someone. When she’s removed a person from her life, she is done. They become literally nothing to her. McKinley will rightly claim that this is about self-preservation and boundaries, but she really takes it to the next level.

9) What would they chose between: morning and night, sweet and savoury, beaches or meadows, cities or countryside, winter or summer, Christmas or Halloween (sorry, Spencer!), movies or TV shows, action or rom-com, clowns or vampires, stars or the moon (both!), cocktails or pints [Neither. McKinley doesn’t care for cocktails or beer. Scotch, brandy, rum, and dry wines are her poisons. She’s been known to add Kahlúah to vanilla ice cream, Baileys Irish Cream to coffee (she wants to try Drambuie next), or make hot toddies when she has a cold (obviously not mixing any alcohol with any medicine)]

10) How do they relax? Reading, or having Spencer read to her; knitting; listening to her records or playing her guitar; exercising with Boogie so she’s exhausted enough to sleep that night; baking and cooking

11) What makes them angry? Injustice, apathy/indifference, ableism, willful ignorance

12) What makes them afraid? The awful things she’d possibly do under duress; her family getting hurt or worse; spiders and other bugs that bite and/or sting

13) What is a moment from their childhood that has shaped who they are? It’s not a single event, but growing up with an abusive parent has certainly had a lifelong impact on McKinley. You’ve heard the expression “once bitten, twice shy?” She’s “once bitten, there’s no twice because you no longer exist.” She’s working on that. It’s also cultivated empathy, though, and is part of the reason she volunteers in the hospital’s rehab wing.

14) Do they have a sense of humour? Intellectual humor, pop culture references, puns/Dad jokes, science jokes. Sometimes morbid.

15) What do they value in their friends/loved ones? Honesty and empathy

16) Do they have any pets? An Aussie Collie/Border Aussie named Boogie-Woogie. He’s her first child.

17) Worst memory? Probably the day Meadows shot her and she thought she’d never see Spencer and Penny again.

18) Best memory? The days Sophie and Jason were born. Minus, y’know, the agonizing pain of labor and delivery.

19) Do they have any tattoos? (If no would they get one?) Nope and nope

20) If you could write them into another fandom, which one would you choose? If I knew the MCU better, I’d love to write her in as a Stark Tower employee! She’d be an anthropologist and would study alien societies the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. have encountered. She’d naturally be drawn to Loki, initially in a professional capacity (they quickly discover they relate to each other on a personal level as well).

He’d first find her annoying: “Why are you pestering me, Mortal? Surely you’d rather interview my oaf of a brother?”

“No, not even remotely. He only ever wants to discuss battles he’s won. There’s so much more to Asgard and the other realms than that. I want - I need - to learn your literature, your science, your culture and history. You’re well versed in all of these subjects and you’re an excellent teacher.”

He stares at her impassively over his mug of tea, but his heart - that Judas of an organ - flutters slightly at the compliment. And how can he say no to a fellow scholar?

“I prefer your company to Thor’s too. You have this calming presence. Thor’s sweet but he’s also obnoxiously loud and brash and he always hugs me even though I keep telling him I don’t like it. And he’s constantly swinging his hammer around, which makes me think he’s overcompensating for something.”

Loki nearly chokes on his tea. Yes, this mortal is considerably more tolerable than others.

“Very well. Friday evenings at 6:00, my chambers. Arrive late and suffer my wrath.”

From that day forward, whenever Thor tries to hug her, he gets mildly electrocuted.

Did I accidentally sorta kinda write a drabble? Would anyone be interested in making this a collab? That’s what they’re called, right? (Can you tell I’ve given this some thought? Haha! I have even more details in my head.)

21) Do they like their job? (What else would they do if they could?) She loves it! Hmmm, what else…? A librarian maybe. Or animate and produce an educational cartoon series.

22) What is their sexuality? Demisexual

23) Do they believe in love at first sight? Soulmates? One true love? McKinley believes in “seeing the potential for a good relationship at first conversation.”

Yes, although she feels that term has become overused and poorly redefined.

People can find love again after it’s been lost.

24) What music do they listen to? Has that changed over time? I actually recently answered an ask about this. Yes, she grew up on what passed for country in the ‘90s. God help her, she had a boyband phase in junior high.

25) Can they cook? What food do they love? McKinley does pretty well in the kitchen. She loves a wide variety of food. She grew up in the south, so tons of carbs/comfort foods. She loves Thai, Japanese, and Indian food. She cooks up Middle Earth-inspired dishes (ha! nerd). She’s especially proud of a seed cake she bakes.

26) What are their hopes for the future? For her family to be healthy, safe and happy. To be debt free.

27) How do they react to being threatened? It’s a coin flip. McKinley might curl up like an armadillo and hope the predator gets bored and leaves, or she might kick the stool out from under them and cause their chin to slam into the bar and crack several teeth.

28) What is their love language? McKinley and Spencer both exhibit the Acts of Service love language, because just saying “I love you” isn’t enough. You ought to show it. She’ll randomly bake doughnuts for Spencer or play guitar for him in bed, and he’ll take care of laundry, dishes, and any other chores he sees need doing.

Quality Time is important for them too. Once a month, Luke and Penny babysit so Spencer and McKinley have a day alone together. It doesn’t really matter what they do. The point is it’s just them.

It caught McKinley by surprise how much she enjoys physical affection, given that she can be touch averse but holy moly she was more touch starved than she realized. She lives for snuggles and makeout sessions and playing with each others’ hair. When one of them doesn’t want to be touched, they hook their pinkies together.

29) What do they find most challenging in relationships? At work? In general? At work she struggles to gain her colleagues’ respect (think “Boy Genius” treatment except she has lady bits). In general, she struggles with trusting people.

30) What do you as a creator love best about writing this character? Giving her everything I wish I had but don’t.

Bonus: Include a link to your favourite work with this OC or write a small drabble.

October 12, 2021

Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently rousing Spencer from a pleasant sleep. Just when he’d decided to get up, he felt the mattress dip behind him and his wife’s breath fanning over his ear.

“Who’s the birthday boy?” whispered McKinley.

Spencer smiled softly but feigned being asleep.

“Who’s the birthdaaay boooy?” she repeated, bouncing slightly.

“The good-looking guy to your left?”

“Happy Birthday!” she laughed, pressing kisses along his neck, suddenly shifting the mood from playful to sexy.

“Would the birthday boy like his birthday present?” she asked as she lifted the covers.

“Well, look at that - it’s already unwrapped!”

#oc appreciation #writing games #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #oh god it's 03:15 why am i still awake?#why do i do this to myself #sleepy time for Rubes now

9 notes · View notes

ambrose-d · 5 years

Text

We’re all having fun here!

Words: 3181

Murder Mystery human au!

Don’t look in the tags if you don't want to be spoiled for who the murder is!

“So...it was you..?...”His voice broke as he said it, emotion and heartbreak bleeding through his words.

“Mhm! But don’t you worry, you’ll meet them again soon enough!” As he said that...

He lunged.

It was Roman’s idea to go to an abandoned amusement park. Roman Prince was 21 years old, and was full of idiocy. He had green eyes and tan skin, along with dark blonde hair. He always wore a white shirt with white jeans and a red ascot tie, you know, like a cartoon character. He was the perfect boy, being athletic, pretty, and having an angelic singing voice. Girls flocked to him like moths to a flame. Except Roman wasn’t a fan of any of them. He just wanted to be an actor in Broadway, being famous for his acting and singing, not his appearance. Roman had a twin. The twin’s name was Remus Duke, as their parents wanted to give them different last names. Remus was less than a cute baby, and they hadn’t wanted their perfect, cute child to seem related to Remus. Remus was able to grow a mustache, purely to annoy Roman. Remus had green eyes and super pale skin, sometimes wearing toxic green tight tube tops and very short shorts. That is what he was wearing right now. Remus had dark blonde hair as well, but had dyed a streak of it in the front gray. Objectively, he was an on-fire garbage can. Figuratively, of course. Remus was very much alive and not on fire. He was all for going to the theme park, thinking that he could do all kinds of stupid and gross stuff. Speaking of big words such as objectively and figuratively, the only person in the group that actually comprehended how much of an idiotic idea it was to go to the park. Logan Croft was his name, and he was 22 years old. He had ultramarine blue eyes and black, slicked-back hair. He wore a black polo and a blue tie. In addition to that, he wore square glasses and khakis. He was kind of stuck up and knew more words than you could even imagine. Logan was also best friends, though he begged to differ, with a man named Patton Hart. Patton was a bubbly kind of guy and was 20 years old. He wore circle glasses and a light blue polo shirt with a gray cardigan wrapped around his shoulders, in addition to jeans. He had light blue eyes and curly light blond hair. He was the innocent type, the kind of person people want to protect. Everyone liked him, even people who usually hated everyone. Emile Picani was the innocent type as well, in the same way. Emile was 23 years old and was studying to become a therapist. He was already very empathetic, so it was easy. He wore a beige cardigan and a baby blue tie. Joan Marco and Talyn Blattea were almost inseparable. Joan was 21 years old and wore an orange beanie, a t-shirt, and jeans. Talyn was 20 years old and wore a sweatshirt tucked into some jeans. They both were in love with each other, though would never admit it.

Damien Mendax was a pathological liar. The left side of his face was burned and scarred, making him blind in his left eye. This was caused by a house fire, and he went back inside to get his pet snake. Damien wore a long sleeve, black shirt, and long black jeans. As the eight entered the park, Logan was looking very unimpressed by this whole thing. As it was stated, Logan was very stuck up and serious, so it was no wonder that he was not enjoying this trip. It was Roman that noticed it first. “What’s gotten on your mind in a freak, Bill Nye the Science Guy?” Roman asked, taking a break from spinning Patton so he could talk to Logan in clarity. Also, something else about Roman’s character. He can and will call the others nicknames that he thought of. The others don’t mind, so Roman continued to do it. “Oh, I am just contemplating how much it is an injudicious proposition it was to do this,” Logan said dryly. “In English! You know I don’t understand the big, fancy words you use,” Roman complained. “I was thinking about how much of a stupid idea it was do come here,” Logan corrected. “Well, I think it’s a great place to be! It’s fun and we’ll be able to explore what was once here! Don’t you like looking around old places, Logie Bear?”Patton chimed in, making a sour face. As he said that, a single magpie flying above them and cawing. “Ooooooo, that’s a pretty bird!!”He exclaimed as he pointed at the Pica Pica. Logan sighed at how scatterbrained Patton was. He looked up at the bird, deciding to just go with it. “Ah, yes, a Eurasian magpie. It is a lovely bird. Very intelligent, too.”As he said that, the gates of the amusement park swung open. That was because Remus pushed them open. Logan simply rolled his eyes. Only Remus could be that immature, wanting to be the first person to be inside the theme park. “Oooo!! It looks super duper spooky in there!!”Remus exclaimed, grinning. Remus was very immature, “Remus, if you want to explore it, go ahead and explore it,” Damien said. Damien spent the most time with Remus, so he was used to Remus’s immaturity. It did get tiring after a while, so when he got annoyed with it, he’d just send him off to annoy Roman or Logan. The task was easy enough, and Remus loved to annoy them both, separately or together. Remus went inside the theme park, a huge grin on his face. Damien and Logan simply sighed. “Let’s go inside, alright?”Talyn asked Joan, who they had been walking with and was trailing behind the rest of the group. “Which ride do you want to try and ride first? The rides may still work, by some miracle luck.” Joan thought for a couple moments. “The rollercoaster seems fun,” They said, shrugging. “I always like the rollercoaster. It is so exciting and fun.” As they said that, Patton looked at the two of them. “Joan, could I talk to you for a bit? And Talyn, you can’t listen to this, sorry.” Talyn and Joan looked very confused by this, but they both nodded. “Thanks!” Talyn caught up with the group, still looking confused. “Do you guys know if Patton has any beef with Joan? He wanted to speak with them privately...Emile, do you know anything? You’re a therapist, so maybe you could’ve seen something?”Talyn asked, looking at Emile. Emile simply shook his head. “No, I didn’t notice anything. Sorry. Maybe Joan borrowed some money and never returned it?”Emile suggested, shrugging. He honestly did not know of anything happening, thinking innocently about it. Logan pursed his lips before saying, “It is most likely something personal, so I suggest that we do not question it anymore. At any rate, shall we explore the park more? Perhaps the rides and the park still have electricity going through the wires, but it hadn’t been turned on.” “Joan said that they wanted to go on the rollercoaster, so why don’t we find it and wait for Patton and Joan on the coaster?’ asked Talyn. They all nodded, setting off to find the rollercoaster. They found it after a while, boarding on to the cart. They waited a couple minutes for the two before the park sparked to life like the night sky on the Fourth Of July, lights turning on all around them. “Ah, it appears I was right. But that would mean that the roller coASTER-” Logan began to say before being cut off with the coaster turning on and starting to move. “Put on your safety measures, everyone!!”He yelled, clearly panicking at the rollercoaster turning on by itself. Who wouldn’t, though? The rollercoaster hiked up a hill before going steady on a level surface. The people in the front, Roman and Logan, saw something in the middle of the tracks...or should I say..someone.

It was Joan, tied up and hopefully unconscious. The roller coaster was going to run straight through them.

The scene seemed to go in slow motion, Logan and Roman trying to stop the cart and failing while the others looked so very very confused. The sickening crunch of bones and the gushing of blood, freely flowing from the now open wounds. The sounds of Joan’s death were so loud, even against the sound of the coaster. It was screaming from Joan, probably instinctually. Talyn was the third person to realize what had happened, just after Logan and Roman. Talyn was sobbing, and the others realized like a domino effect. First Emile, then Damien, and finally Remus. It was not a pretty sight, them all coming to the understanding that their friend was dead. The ride was silent except for the sound of the ride and Talyn crying. They all got off the ride and tried to comfort Talyn, though it was very hard because Talyn’s closest friend just got run over by a roller coaster. Death wasn’t really something that you could fix, especially like that. If you had a heart attack or something along those lines, fine. But not like that. Just as they were comforting the person, Patton came strolling up like nothing. “Hey, kiddos! What’re you all doing? Talyn, why are you crying? What happened?”Patton asked, cocking his head to the side innocently. “Jo-Joan’s DEA-DEAD!!”Talyn howled out, burying their face in Roman’s shoulder. Roman ran his fingers through their hair to potentially comfort them. “That’s horrible! I was just talking to them, and I said that I would be right back, and when I came back, they were gone! I guess I know where they went to!”Patton said, his grin turning to a frown. “Logically, we should contact the police and get out of here. If someone killed Joan, they have the potential to kill other people,” Logan said. Damien took out his phone and tried to dial 911. He waited for an answer from authorities, though it never came. “It appears that we cannot reach the internet, which means that whoever the killer is most likely made it so there is no internet in this area,” Logan conspired, shrugging a bit. Talyn sniffled, pulling away from Roman. “Tha-Thanks, gu-guys..I-I’m gon-gonna g-go wa-walk arou-around to tr-try a-an’ cle-clear my he-head,” Talyn stuttered out, shuffling away from the others and towards the game section. The others decided to head their separate ways for the time being.

After a bit, Remus was just going around, seeing if anything was in the claw machines. He saw something large in one of them, so he walked over to that claw machine. What was in that machine chilled him to the bones, something that made him scream.

It was Talyn’s head.

Almost immediately, the others came running. They all looked worried and panicked, Damien and Logan appearing to already know that another murder took place. Why else would Remus of all people scream at something that wasn’t major? Once they were all there, it was dead silent. Patton covered his mouth, Roman felt tears going down his cheeks, and Emile sobbed silently. Logan and Damien remained stoic, but you could see the despair in their eyes. You could see the despair in their expressions. Pairs, they had decided. Pairs of people to explore. Logan and Patton, Damien and Remus, and finally Roman and Emile. Logan and Patton went around to the kiddie games and rides, much to Logan’s displeasement and Patton’s enjoyment. Patton was humming a joyful tune as they walked, Patton keeping Logan’s hand in his own. Logan kept his face stoic and emotionless as always, pushing up his glasses with his free hand. Suddenly, Patton released Logan’s hand and pointed in the direction of a ride. “Imma go over there and see if that still works! Stay here, Lolo!”Patton said, skipping over to the ride. “That defeats the purpose of pairs- okay he can’t hear me. I minus well stay here,” grumbled Logan, looking forward and not at the ride. Suddenly, someone pushed him from behind, his glasses coming off in the struggle. The person stepped on the glasses as the two moved, and his attacker pushing his head down. They were right in front of a rubber duck pond, where little children played games to try and win prizes. He struggled to breathe, though the person kept his head pushed under the water. The world started to spin as he was forced to inhale the murky water. He didn’t know how long he was under the water, but it was about a minute from what he remembered from his books. His books didn’t matter anymore, he was drowning. After the minute was up, the world faded to black... A scream rang out through the park. Everyone came running like it was Black Friday and there was a really important and really good sale. They all showed up to see Patton looking terrified, standing at the exit of a kiddie ride, pointing at the rubber ducky pond. Bent over the pond was Logan, deathly still. His glasses were about a foot away, shattered like they were garbage. “I wa-was jus-just goi-going o-on th-the rid-ride bu-but h-he did-didn’t wan-want t-to g-go o-on th-the ri-ride s-so h-he wai-waited ou-out her-here an-and no-now he-he’s de-dead!”Patton babbled. Roman went over to comfort the man. “Shh...It’s alright, Padre. It isn’t your fault..it’s okay,” The twin said, soothing Patton’s hair. “Bu-But i-it i-is m-my fau-fault..! I-If I-I had-hadn’t go-gone o-on th-the ri-ride..h-he’d b-be he-here no-now!”Patton sobbed out, clutching Roman’s shirt. So now they had two groups, Roman and Patton, then Emile, Remus, and Damien. Damien would switch groups so each group had three members for equal amounts of time. But, in the present moment, Roman and Patton were walking around the game section, looking for something to play. If the rides still worked, maybe the games still worked. They came across a high striker game, commonly known as the strong man game. “Do you think I can hit the bell?”Roman asked as he picked up the mallet, or, well, tried to. The mallet wasn’t there. Roman turned around to see the hammer swinging straight for his head.

Damien was walking around the game section, humming. He was looking for Roman and Patton so he could join their group and make it equal. Despite the situation they were in, it was peaceful. He was enjoying this peace. No one to disturb him..oh..oh no. He looked at a strong man game, seeing Roman, bleeding from his head and thrown over the lever like the dead man was the mallet. From the bloody mallet beside Roman, it was safe to assume that the hammer was the murder weapon. He could never, ever tell Remus this. He did question where Patton was, though that wasn’t his biggest concern.

Damien walked back to his group, ushering Emile away from Remus. “Roman is dead,” Damien whispered, making sure that Remus could not hear him. Emile’s face turn from bright and bubbly to terrified. “You-You’ve got to be joking..? Please tell me you’re joking,” Emile asked quietly, utterly petrified for his and the other’s safety. Damien simply shook his head. “I wish I was joking...You go with Patton, I’ll go with Remus,” Damien suggested, receiving a nod from Emile as a response. He turned back around to Remus. “Alright, you’re going to explore with me and Emile will explore with Patton,” He explained. Remus nodded. Damien and Remus set off to explore the food shacks, coming across one for fries and pizza. “Ten bucks that I’ll eat a slice of pizza!”Remus giggled as he said that. Damien just looked tired, pulling out a ten-dollar bill and nodding. “Go for it, buddy,” Damien said with so much enthusiasm that it should’ve belonged to a dead man. Remus was idiotic. That was very apparent based on the fact that he was eating God knows how old pizza for $10. Remus ate the whole pizza and Damien gave him his ten dollars. However, almost immediately after, Remus lost consciousness. Damien caught him and checked for a heartbeat.

There was no pulse against his hand. Damien freaked out. Remus, too? Why Remus? Remus already suffered from dumbass-ery, so why exaggerate that fact by doing something to the food? Who knew that Remus was going to actually eat the food? It had to be the murder. Damien felt hot tears start to leak down the sides of his face. Remus was the only one that would actually give him a chance. Someone had to take that away, but why? What did the murderer have against them? The man let Remus fall out of his arms, standing up. He wiped his tears away and went to go find Patton and Emile. Once he had found them, they were just preparing to get on a drop tower. “Why don’t you join us?”Asked Patton, offering Damien a seat right next to him. Damien agreed. How bad could it be? As they all boarded the drop tower, his seat wouldn’t lock. Before he could change seats, the ride suddenly shot up, leaving him glued to his seat because of gravity. Once they reached the top, he panicked. The only reason he was still on this was because gravity was working. The ride let itself free fall, basically pushing Damien off of it. Damien’s body hit the ground with a splat. Once the ride had finished, Emile got off immediately and went to go check on Damien. Damien, of course, was very much dead. Emile stood up and looked at Patton with terror in his eyes.

“So...it was you..?...”Emile’s voice broke as he asked it, emotion and heartbreak bleeding through his words.

“Mhm! But don’t you worry, you see the others again soon enough!” As Patton said that, he pulled out a broken off carousel pole. There were jagged and rough edges, perfect for murder.

Patton lunged at Emile, the pole right in front of him.

Patton was faster than Emile, because of course he was. Patton was almost immediately in front of Emile, holding the jagged pole to his neck. “Say hi to Roman for me, he was always my favorite!”Patton chirped before running the sharp part of the broken off pole against Emile’s neck, blood filling the therapist’s throat and mouth. “Sorry ‘bout that Emile, it was necessary!” Patton let Emile’s limp body fall to the ground as he walked away.

Patton was gone, leaving behind all his past friends that had passed on. He couldn’t say he was sorry, either.

#unsympathetic patton #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #thomas sanders and friends

10 notes · View notes

tlbodine · 6 years

Text

Stories That Don’t Flinch: Let’s Talk About Hereditary

There’s a lot to be said about 2018′s Hereditary, the directorial debut of Ari Aster. We could talk about it’s oppressive atmosphere and slow-but-inevitable-crescendo pacing. We could talk about the unbearable tension built around a crumbling family. Or we could talk at length about its incredible amounts of meticulous foreshadowing and the tightness of its visual storytelling.

But I want to talk about that scene. You know the one.

Heavy spoilers underneath the cut. If you haven’t seen the movie yet, venture cautiously forward -- you might want to watch it spoiler-free so you can be shocked the way I was. Trigger warnings for child death. This is not a pleasant movie.

Hereditary opens on a funeral, but its first on-screen death happens around the 35 minute mark, and nothing can really prepare you for it.

Up to this point, you think you know where this movie is headed. We’re introduced to Annie, a mother who’s dealing with complicated grief after her own mother’s death. They didn’t have a good relationship, to say the least, and her own life has been marked by a series of tragedies tied to mental illness. We’re introduced to her daughter Charlie, an uncanny child whose hobbies include eating chocolate, drawing, and building creepy-ass effigies in her bedroom.

We have every reason to believe that the primary conflict of the film will be centered on the difficult relationship between mother and daughter. Annie wasn’t close to her mother, but Charlie had a special bond with her grandmother. Charlie is despondent and weird and creepy. She does things like sneak out to sleep in her tree house, follow lights into the woods, and cut the head off a dead bird for her next art project.

So around the half-hour mark, Charlie’s older brother Peter asks if he can go to a party. His mother, suspecting there might be drinking involved, tells him to take his little sister along -- a classic parenting move I think is probably familiar to most people. I know I spent a lot of time as a kid being the annoying tag-along sister chaperoning (and cock-blocking) my brothers and their friends. Highly relatable.

Anyway - so Peter takes Charlie to the party and is trying to make the best of it (ie, not let his weird creepy kid sister completely ruin his chance at having fun) so he gently urges her to go eat a piece of cake and enjoy herself. Unbeknownst to both of them, the cake has walnuts in it -- and we’ve previously established that Charlie has a nut allergy.

Not long later, Charlie finds Peter sequestered in an upstairs bedroom, taking a bong rip. She’s broken out into a rash and started to wheeze.

Peter, being a dumb teenager, panics and bundles her up in the car to drive back to mom and dad -- a bad call, but again, utterly relatable. Who’s going to call an ambulance to a party full of underage drinking and weed? What teenage boy is going to remember to carry an epi-pen all the time for his kid sister?

So he starts driving down the empty country road leading to their house. It’s dark, and he’s flooring the gas pedal. We see the speedometer top out at 90. Charlie is gasping and wheezing terribly in the back seat. She rolls down the window and leans out, trying to breathe better. Peter, obviously frightened, is trying to share his attention between her in the backseat and the road.

There’s a dead deer lying in the middle of the road.

He swerves to avoid it. There’s a telephone pole on the side of the road, the same side Charlie is hanging out of.

We hear the impact, and we know. We know what happened.

At that point watching this movie, I legitimately screamed, and that doesn’t happen often. Never in a million years would I have expected that.

Kids in movies -- even horror movies -- tend to have plot armor. It’s pretty rare that the kid dies. It happens, of course (look at Pet Sematary), but it’s uncommon.

And it’s rare in movies -- even horror movies -- for a death to be sudden and honest and brutal. Stories usually give you a place to hide, emotionally, when a character dies. Either the death is treated with some filter of sentimentality -- sad music and on-screen tears and a lingering camera view of fingers unfurling, or some such -- or the shlocky gore factor is played up, driving the death to the point of absurdity so that you can feel a little safer about watching it.

It’s pretty rare for death in fiction to come suddenly and brutally and without any warning or safe space to hide, and for that death to be the death of a child -- shit. It was hardcore. It was viscerally uncomfortable to watch. We actually had to pause the movie to go outside for a minute and collect ourselves before going back into it.

And not just because the death itself was so shocking and so awful, but because the film broke an unspoken contract:

The kid isn’t supposed to die. We had every reason up to that point to believe that she was going to be the main character, or the antagonist.

It’s a genuinely Hitchcockian twist, and watching it, I think I know how audiences must have felt the first time Psycho aired on theaters. That kind of contractual betrayal works on a meta-textual basis to deeply unsettle the audience.

We’re barely 40 minutes into a 2-hour+ film at this point. Where the fuck can it go from here?

Back on the screen -- Peter has stopped the car, and he is completely frozen with shock in the front seat. There is no more noise from the back seat. He doesn’t dare look. He knows. He knows what he’s going to see back there. And for a long, long time, he sits there frozen in complete shock and terror.

And then he puts the car into gear and drives home.

And pulls into the driveway and goes inside and climbs into his bed without ever looking in the back seat, without saying anything to anyone, without turning on a light or making a noise. He lays down in bed wide-eyed and completely numb and, some sleepless quantity of time later, hears the sounds of his parents moving around, and his mom heading down to the car, and then her screaming.

I don’t know that I have ever felt more sorry for a fictional character in my life than I did for Peter at that moment.

This poor kid -- this doe-eyed teenager, who made some bad calls, but can you blame him? None of this was his fault, not really. And now he’s going to live with this weight for the rest of his life. He is completely and utterly traumatized, and we know immediately that he’s not going to get any support in this -- not from his mother, who we can already see is both selfish and pathological in her own grief.

As you might expect, things continue to get worse for him throughout the rest of the film.

And just in case you thought the movie would be kind to you -- just in case you thought you still had somewhere safe to hide, in case you thought you could get away without confronting the whole situation (god help me) head-on...well. In the bright light of day, the family (and the camera) return to the scene to retrieve Charlie’s head, already teeming with ants.

This movie does not pull any punches. Not a single one.

I think there are a lot of useful things to learn from this particular film, from an artistic standpoint:

You have an unspoken contract with the audience. There are certain expectations that people have based on genre conventions and cultural norms. You can break those to great effect -- but you have to be careful with it, because breaking those conventions is a betrayal of trust. You might lose audience members who are not willing to surrender their time and attention to a creator who betrays the contract. This is the kind of thing you can only manage to pull off once in a story, and you’ve got to make it count.

Highly specific situations are often, paradoxically, more relatable than “universal” ones. Eschewing common tropes and expected, predictable creative choices can make a story feel more authentic and real. The situation of going to a party and having to drag your kid sister along is real. Panicking and running home to mom instead of calling an ambulance is real. Being in total shock after a terrible accident and not telling anyone about it is real. They’re things I don’t necessarily think I’ve seen play out very often in a story, but they’re things that are absolutely believable. Universal tropes are often based more on cultural norms of behavior than on actual individual experiences. Real life is usually messier and stranger and more messed up. Crib experiences from real life -- yours, your friends, your family, news stories -- to tell authentic and relatable stories.

Decide whether you want to give the audience a place to hide. Sometimes horror movies are fun. Sometimes you want to create a scary environment that people can feel safe watching, like a haunted house. You give them places to hide and protect themselves emotionally -- you incorporate humor, you drive up the absurdity of the violence, you make all of the characters sort of caricature-esque. But sometimes you want to make a story that will actually genuinely horrify the audience -- even traumatize them. And you do that by refusing to flinch or look away or pull punches. You make them confront the terrible things directly and force them to process them on their own.

Anyway. I’m not sure that Hereditary manages to live up to its first act. It’s a fine film, and it continues to be creepy and uncomfortable and genuinely horrifying throughout -- but that death scene is a tough act to follow, and I personally found its supernatural resolution to somewhat cheapen the events that preceded it.

But that scene will stick with me forever. This film will haunt me. And for someone who consumes and creates as much horror media as I do, that is truly saying something.

#hereditary #how to write horror #horror movies #film analysis #tw: child death #tw: death #gore #upsetting gif

202 notes · View notes

gottagobuycheese · 5 years

Text

Tag Thingy

Thanks @indezaisive for tagging me! This is a welcome distraction from studying for OSCEs though I really should get on that :P

Name: Cheese

Gender: Meeeeeeee

Sign: Gemini

Height: allegedly 160.5 cm, which is somewhere around 5′3″?

Sexuality: Ace! (aroace probably but because of this one brief weird time from high school the jury’s still out)

Lock Screen Image: That generic bright blue space photo on iPhones because I have no personality and also like space

Ever had a crush on a teacher?: Nah

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?: cremated uhhh let’s see, ten years, ten years. That’d be...2028? So ideally, if everything goes according to plan and I don’t shoot myself in my remaining foot, I’ll be a couple years into a job, unless I somehow get into some fancy pants specialty that requires more than a standard residency (but I’d have to get a decent grade in pathology for that so whelp)

If you could be anywhere else right now, where would you be?: The ISS, or Antarctica, or Denali, or somewhere equally wide open where I could pretend I don’t have any pressing responsibilities and feel that awesome wonder you get when you see a sky which a bunch of stars. Or if that’s too outlandish, Japan because that was the greatest break I’ve ever taken

What was your coolest Halloween costume?: I dressed up as the bubonic plague one year for extra credit in my history class and had a grand old time. Everyone who dressed up (for extra credit) was supposed to give a presentation about their historical relevance, and my teacher loved my costume so much she made me come back for her last class of the day to do it again. A lot of other people were creeped out by it, which was extra fun. I still have this bald patch on the back of my hand from where I had to yank off this one stubborn raisin

Favorite 90s TV Show: I don’t know what TV shows I presently enjoy were from the 90s, but at the time I loved Digimon. Still enjoy it, but mostly for the nostalgia at this point. I think I also just enjoyed that whole feeling of getting up super early on a Saturday with my brother to watch the latest episode of whatever season was playing at the time

Last Kiss: Probably my dad? That was months ago before I started Hell Semester 2.0, but I'm fairly certain he was the last person to see me off to the airport so. Probably

Have you ever been stood up? The bus...it keeps ghosting me. This whole week has been an exercise is betrayal. Like, you get up at 7-whatever so you can catch the 8:02 bus to make it to your 9 o’clock class, but nooooo, by the time you get to the bus stop, the 8:02 bus doesn’t exist! So you have to wait for the 8:17 bus! But that bus is late! And by the time it finally reaches your stop it’s so full of people that were betrayed at all the previous stops that you can’t even get on! And then you have wait for the next bus and be atrociously late for class and walk in shame through the front of the room right in front of the lecturer to the only available seats left in the lecture hall, or you try to sprint to the next stop before it gets there so you can nab a spot once some of the people disembark that only worked once though and it was because the traffic lights were in my favor. Or take a cab, but that’s so expensive

Ever been to Vegas? Yup! Twice, I think. Once when I was around 6 (which could mean I was anywhere from 4 to 9, because I ascribe almost every vague childhood memory I don’t have a specific time period for to “when I was 6″) and once for New Year’s 2017. A better experience the second time since we didn’t lose any precious stuffed animals, but it was quite loud and drunk because it was New Year’s. But we did go see a magic show, so that was neat. And it wasn’t a creepy magic show and they didn’t rope us in for audience participation, so that was even better

Favorite Shoes: I really like these velcro sandals of mine, but they’re so old and tattered I feel like the straps are just going to fall off soon. My foot is already breaking through the body of the sandal into the hollow space inside, and there’s basically no sole left. I should probably get new ones, but meh

Favorite Fruit: Oh jeez this is a hard one. Fruits have grown on me so much. I do love mangoes, but tangerines are such a good regular reliable snack, and I’m more picky about mangoes than tangerines. Oh but I had these insanely good mandarins in Japan once that tasted like actual heaven, especially because it was so hot and they were so cold. So maybe those after all

Favorite Books: I haven’t read in so long I’m sorry I think the most recent book I enjoyed was Howl’s Moving Castle or The Martian, but those were more oh-no-I-have-important-things-to-do-let-me-procrastinate-harder reads. I guess if we’re talking comforts reads that I know I can enjoy at pretty much any time, probably Harry Potter or Warriors, but I know I’ve read a lot of other books I really enjoyed at the time. Unfortunately, I have the memory of Mouse AB#310013 so I cannot recall what they were

Stupidest Thing You’ve Ever Done: gonna take a leaf outta Zai’s book and say going to med school because let’s face it the way things are going this isn’t gonna end well for me or for the general public. In terms of actual, genuinely, 100% beyond-a-shadow-of-doubt stupid things I’ve done, probably this one time in high school where I made the mistake of trying to wear a dress. I was home alone, about to leave for a school performance, and I thought to myself, “Hey, since this is already here, instead of wearing my normal funeral performance clothes, what if I try this out?” I didn’t know that the bows on those kinds of dresses could be untied (I thought it was just stitched in as part of the design), so I tried to squeeze my head and arms through the darn thing by sheer force of will (in hindsight, I may have been trying to go to the armhole instead of the head hole because I’m just That Bad at wearing anything but a t-shirt and shorts). At some point my vision started to go spotty and I toppled over, and the only reason I am still alive to tell you this story is because I had the foresight to remove my watch. I managed to squeeze one arm through next to my head and yanked on that bow like my life depended on it which it did and freed myself from its murderous grasp. And I haven’t ever tried to wear a dress since because I’d probably die :D

Best Thing You’ve Ever Done: In sixth grade I let this low-key annoying stranger borrow my valve oil in our first few days of band class and now they’re one of my best friends so I’m grateful for that

Why do my answers keep getting so long every time

Tagging @pachelbelsheadcanon, @averybritishbumblebee, @christlovez, @sailorlock, @stealingyourdreams, @eiramew, @shingeki-no-korra, and YOU! If you want to. But don’t feel obligated!

#Cheese's personal molasses #tag game #tag thingy #actually maybe the stupidest thing I've ever done was (again in high school)#try to respond to this note someone left on my car telling me to ‘get out and park somewhere else!’#with what I thought would be a very courteously drafted letter articulating my reasons for parking there #and what I assumed were their reasons for wanting me not to park there #it was supposed to be raining the next day (back when it actually used to rain there lmao) so I left them two hand warmers as well #but because of the aforementioned rain my dad didn't let me drive to school that day #pretty sure if I left that note there I would've gotten my teeth punched out because looking back on it now #there is nO WAY to read my note and not think I'm being terribly sarcastic and snarky #which maybe I was a little bit but I was also sort of genuine #probably a good thing I didn't engage though 'cause I found out from their next note they were just a racist jerk #that was kinda scary to learn because that meant they'd seen me but I hadn't seen them and that meant they had more power than me #but I showed the note to our parking security guy and he took care of it (I assume)#plus I didn't even have to drive to school after that week so nothing came of it #ANYWAY I got terribly sidetracked again so I'm gonna go either study the marksheets for tomorrow's osce #or procrastinate by writing another story I don't have time for #but in either case thanks for tagging me!#it was fun #I'm gonna post this and see all the hundreds of typos I made and kick myself but whatever

3 notes · View notes