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qiankunfics · 3 years

Text

KunTen Masterlist Part 1

AO3

1. Body Talk by smallchittaphon

Summary: He had feared the statement more when the days to His and Kun’s one year mark approached but he shouldn't have. It was childish too, not every relationship is the same he realizes. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

2. cut through the clouds by heartsighed

Summary: Qian Kun, microbiology major, vice-president of the ISA, part-time poster model and full-time mom friend, is perhaps more stressed than he would like everyone to think. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

3. something new by creamsoda (bobahoney)

Summary: Ten finally asks Kun to fuck his thighs. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

4. the aesthetics of beauty by hoeunki

Summary: when Kun’s required to create something that defines art, he decides to draw a stranger that he finds sleeping on the campus grounds. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

5. kiss me under the light of a thousand stars by gabilliam (vvhymack)

Summary: Ten calls the wrong number, Kun comes to the rescue. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

6. The Customer is Always Right by 021497J

Summary: Ten honestly isn't a picky eater, the chicken was dry. His complaints earn him a visit from the very cute head chef. He can't help it if he wants to see him once more, all he has to do is complain...right? Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

7. red, orange, yellow, green, even thicker by eatthatup

Summary: Kun isn’t used to being praised. Physically, at least. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

8. incandescently (for him.) by gabilliam (vvhymack)

Summary: They were no longer the likely protagonists for the typical romance and it saddened Ten. (Historical AU) Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot Trigger: Slight homophobia mentioned

9. we’ll be alright by syugafairy

Summary: kun never thought of himself as an anxious person Rating: General Status: One-Shot

10. light me up

Summary: Ten spends most of his life dreaming of being a superhero, and by luck, his wish is granted. Chaos ensues. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

11. the store by _helios (the_heliades)

Summary: His cat, quiet and proud, will watch with piercing eyes, as they wander out of The Store and into the world again. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

12. Rain. by softyjseo

Summary: Ten is in love. Kun isn't, apparently. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

13. sweeter than cake by eatthatup for adarkalleyway

Summary: Ten, pouting just slightly, makes Kun melt instantly. Like heating sugar, near its burning point. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

14. kiss me if you like me (slap me if I'm wrong) by mikararinna

Summary: Ten was starting to feel bored of life. He needed a challenge, something to excite himself. Kun had an idea. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

15. Magnets by orphan_account

Summary: Kun and Ten are roommates. Rating: General Status: One-Shot Trigger: slight harassment

16. sibilance by andnowforyaya

Summary: Doctor Qian Kun chases the stories he hears on the rivers to their origins, and he meets a beautiful boy underneath a waterfall. Rating: Teen Status: On-going

17. get you good by gift

Summary: “Please, don’t make me beg,” Kun whines.“I like when you beg,” Ten tells him bluntly. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

18. sweet, sweet love by RedamancyEffect

Summary: Kun is the sweetest omega ever, Ten is head-over-heels for him. Too bad, Kun is a little dense. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

19. stupid spinach dip

Summary: Yukhei and Mark visit Professor Kun and they find out he’s married to news anchor Ten. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

20. sunchoke by flyway

Summary: Kun, Ten, and summer at the Sunchoke magazine test kitchen. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

21. Handle Perfection

Summary: Ten was going to need Kun to stop this kind of behaviour, his heart couldn’t handle this type of perfection. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

22. you are my favorite everything

Summary: Ten and Kun meet during the perfect summer. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

23. no matter how long i wait by dreamlaunch (mayuaka)

Summary: in his search for a dream blocking enchantment, ten finds kun. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

24. the truth hurts (and secrets kill) by thereisnoreality

Summary: Ten kills while Kun is at work. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot *Part of murdery martrimony collection

25. Open Windows by Mntsnflrs

Summary: Ten constantly locks himself out of his apartment, Kun saves the day and him. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

26. green, pink, blue, yellow by rowenabane

Summary: Imagine: a town with manicured lawns, cotton candy sunrises, houses that all look the same. Imagine: a neighbor with a beautiful smile, a terrible secret, a hidden past. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot Trigger: Slight alcohol abuse

27. dreaming (are you thinking what i'm thinking?) by okamiwind

Summary: They could not be more different, the pair of them. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

28. click, snapshot by kwonjis

Summary: photographer!kunten fic Rating: General Status: One-Shot

29. Office Hours by violetpeche

Summary: Kun’s chest starts to ache again as he watches the soft, pink tip of Ten’s tongue slip across his lower lip before biting it. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

30. open invitation by andnowforyaya

Summary: Ten’s asleep, and his pink, soft lips are parted, that mouth that gave Kun so much trouble earlier today. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

31. What's Life Without a Little Worry?

Summary: Kun was a notorious worrier. He worried about his grades, about his friends and whether they were eating enough, sleeping enough. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

32. To All The Boys I Ghosted Before by cobalamincosel

Summary: The Tinder AU where Ten ghosts Kun in date night— and months later finds out that Kun is his new neighbor. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

33. Miles Above by violetpeche

Summary: Ten looks up at Kun and lets out a deep sigh. “No.” He leans over to tap on the faucet to rinse out the sink for Kun. “I came in here to suck your dick.” Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

34. getting closer by flowerhairclips

Summary: Kun is in for a long ass ride when a demon he exorcised ends up falling in love with him. Rating: Explicit Status: Completed

35. a labour of love by eggboyksoo

Summary: renjun is an artistic genius with a tendency to keep things from his family. his parents struggle to support his interests while pretending they don't know about said interests. Rating: General Status: One-Shot *Part of chaos, family, love collection

36. Hunger of the Pine by cobalamincosel

Summary: Kun and Ten are ex-college friends-with-benefits who end up becoming so much more when they bump into each other again at the airport after a few years for the wedding of their respective college roommates and best friends, Johnny and Taeyong. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

37. We’ll Get Lost Together (Let Me Flow) by easycomeeasygo

Summary: When Ten really gets to look at Kun, his brain short circuits. He’s hot. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

38. if you believe in magic, come along with me by mainvocal

Summary: Deep down, Kun knows Ten didn't ask to join Card Magic Club because he'd suddenly become enamored with the art of card tricks. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

39. Antedate by Lertsek

Summary: There are some nights where Kun wakes up and can't hear Ten breathe. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

40. Permeating and Perfect by Kkaepsongiya

Summary: He can’t stop making noise, not as Kun fucks him so well, the older boy holding his hips tight, pulling him back to meet his thrusts. He knows his hips will be bruised for days after this—he can’t wait to see the marks, to press into them when he’s all alone. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

41. Open Doors by Mntsnflrs

Summary: He decides he likes the way Kun says his name.He decides he wants to hear it more. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

42. let's stay together by madhoney

Summary: Kun smirked and squeezed around his boyfriend’s waist. He could really get used to a lifetime of his sass. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

43. Someday by almostkun

Summary: Kun laughs at him, caressing his cheek with his thumb. They stay in silence for a while, as Mr. Baudelaire chases Mrs. Austen with the help of Yoshihiro-san. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

44. i come apart at the seams (so you can stitch me back together again) by okamiwind

Summary: Ten is the shot, and Kun is his chaser. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

45. space rocks by gaysadandtired

Summary: no celestial being could compare to Ten and his blinding smile. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

46. old times by madhoney

Summary: Since his husband was just set on being ornery tonight, Kun decided to just take the L and try again tomorrow. Rating: Explicit Status: One-shot

47. oh, let's start some rumour by mikararinna

Summary: Rumour has it supermodel Ten has a crush on famous actor Qian Kun. Ten called bullshit. He didn't have a crush on Kun. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

48. you're insatiable by 10softbot

Summary: kun takes ten to a cabin in the woods so they can finally fuck Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

49. Reset by violetpeche

Summary: This particular Thursday morning spiraled into Hell on Earth. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

50. Intersequence by pinkwinwin

Summary: a love story in photographs Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

#kunten #masterlist #part 1 #kun #qian kun

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 3 years

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Paper Rings - Part 3

Pairing: Carrie Wilson x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: perceived homophobia (nobody is actually homophobic)

PR Masterlist Masterlist

___

The young royals spent the rest of the afternoon sharing one of the many benches scattered throughout the palace’s extensive gardens. Carrie would’ve preferred the cozy armchairs of the library, and Nick had even suggested it at one point, but she wasn’t willing to subject their scheming to the potentially prying ears of the palace staff.

While they sat Carrie told her newfound friend all about Y/N while Nick looked on with a soft smile, seeming genuinely happy for her. In all of her imagined ways that her coming out to the man would go, none of them ended like this. She assumed he’d be upset, after all, he’d just spent the last week attempting to impress and woo her when all along he had no chance at all, and yet there he was not only happy for her, he was actively trying to set her up with someone else. She supposed she should’ve seen this coming once she had gotten to know him better.

With Nick caught up on her background with Y/N, they began to fully plot out their plan. It wasn’t anything complicated, but it would take an immense amount of bravery from Carrie, something she wasn’t sure she could muster up but Nick assured her that she already had it. However, the plan couldn’t be set in motion until Nick’s parents arrived for the official announcement of their betrothal.

___

Carrie woke up full of anxieties the day Nick’s parents were set to arrive. It had been a few days since they’d created the plan, and even though Nick had spent every possible moment reassuring and bolstering her, she was still worried. Worried was probably an understatement really, but she wasn’t quite sure what the proper word would be for the way that her heart thumped wildly in her chest and her skin felt like it was quivering separately from the rest of her body. Still, she pulled herself out of bed and allowed her maids to get her ready for the big day, dressing her in one of her finest gowns (they had wanted to make her a brand new one for the occasion but Carrie had insisted that there would be grander occasions worth making new dresses for and that what she already had would serve her just fine).

Once they had finished with her dress, makeup, and hair, Carrie once more shooed the maids from her room before going into her usual routine of choosing her own jewelry. She set to work choosing many of the pieces she had purchased with Y/N before sliding her signet ring onto her pinky.

She shook her arms out as she crossed to her chamber doors, hoping to shake out her anxieties before taking a deep breath to steel herself for the day ahead and what she was about to do. Just like any other morning, as she stepped through her doors she became Princess Caroline, leaving anxious Carrie behind her.

The walk to the palace entryway seemed much longer than usual, though she was grateful for the extra moments to herself to rehearse her words over and over.

She arrived in the entry hall only moments before Nick’s parents were expected to arrive, someone calling that they had passed through the castle’s gates. She hurried to her place beside her father, Nick on her other side.

When the couple finally stepped through the doors it dawned on Carrie why Nick had insisted they wait until his parents arrived. Nick’s parents were gay.

She had known, of course, that Nick had two dads. She’d learned it ages ago in one of her classes and of course, Nick had mentioned it in their many conversations since he’d arrived at the palace, but it hadn’t occurred to her that their presence was a strategic move. Her father would have a much harder time scorning her for her sexuality in front of them.

“Kings Ryan and Chad Danforth-Evans of the Kingdom of Alburquerque.” Their names were announced and Carrie couldn’t help but beam at them.

Nick was the first to greet them, neither the kings nor the prince wasting much time before hugging each other.

“Ryan, Chad, it’s good to see you,” her father’s voice boomed throughout the hall as he stepped forward to shake each man’s hand once they’d pulled away from their son.

“It’s good to see you as well, Trevor. It’s been too long,” King Chad replied and Carrie’s father agreed.

“And Caroline,” King Ryan spoke, turning towards her with a strange look on his face. “My goodness, I haven’t seen you since you were just a child.”

Carrie smiled awkwardly, having no recollection of the event.

“It’s good to see you,” she greeted kindly instead.

“What’s on the itinerary for today?” King Ryan spoke, addressing Trevor, “Do we have time to catch up before the big announcement?”

Nick cleared his throat.

“About that,” he began as everyone’s eyes turned to focus on him. “I’m sorry to bring you both all the way out here for nothing but we have to call off the engagement.”

Carrie felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room at his words.

“Nicolas, what are you doing?” King Ryan hissed before his husband placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“We’re simply not compatible,” Nick explained before turning to Carrie.

It was her turn now. She took a deep breath, grabbing Nick’s hand from where it hung beside her, needing the physical support from her friend.

“Dad,” she addressed her father, intending this declaration for him more than anyone else in the room. “I’m gay.”

It turned out that Carrie didn’t need the strategic advantage of having the Danforth-Evans’ there because before she knew what was happening she was being wrapped into a hug from her father.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said sincerely and Carrie was vaguely aware of the tears welling up in her eyes.

“I wish you would’ve told me sooner…” he added as he pulled away, still holding her by her shoulders. “But it’s no matter, we’ll find you a nice princess and-“

“About that,” Carrie interrupted with a sheepish look.

Her father’s mouth snapped shut as he peered at her curiously. She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to determine what she was going to say next.

“There’s um… Well, there’s already someone.”

Trevor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and Carrie sighed before launching into another explanation.

___

It was late afternoon when you heard the knock on your door. You didn’t pay it much mind, knowing your mother was in the house as well and would answer it. Instead, you resumed your seaming in the back room. Though you were forced to abandon it moments later when your mom called for you.

“Y/N! Come here!”

You were puzzled, to say the least, nobody ever called on you at home. However, your confusion wasn’t eased when you reached the door to find members of the palace guard.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N?” One asked when you reached the doorway and you nodded, too afraid to attempt to speak.

“You have been formally invited to join the king and princess for dinner this evening.”

Your eyes blew wide, mind racing to come up with a plausible reason for you to be summoned to the castle for a meal with Carrie and her father.

“There is a carriage waiting out front when you are ready to depart.”

You nodded mutely once more before you stepped away from the door. You were vaguely aware of your mom asking you questions though you heard none of them as you hastily made your way to your room. You quickly changed into your nicest dress and did your best attempt at tidying up your hair. You didn’t have to stop to put on jewelry as you were already wearing the necklace Carrie had gifted you on her last visit.

Your mom was still waiting for you when you made your way back to the front door. You did your best to reassure her that everything was okay and that you didn’t know anything about what was going on before she hurried you out the door claiming that you didn’t want to keep his majesty and her highness waiting.

Before you knew it you were being swept up into a grand carriage and carried away to an even grander palace. When the castle came into view you felt as though the air had been knocked out of you; it was a truly majestic sight.

You arrived just in time for dinner apparently, as you barely had any time to take in the incredible detailing of the palace’s entryway before you were guided into an equally detailed room with a large wooden dining table.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N.” Your name was announced to the room, startling you before you regained your composure and swept yourself into a curtsy.

With a low scrape of wood against the stone floors, you watched as the king and Carrie stood from the table upon your entrance, waiting until you had taken the seat across from Carrie’s before they sat back down. You furrowed your brows at this, certain that that was atypical behavior for dining with royals.

“Your majesty, your highness,” you addressed each of them, “Thank you for your gracious invitation, I hope I haven’t kept you long.”

“Not at all, Miss Y/L/N. Though the formalities are unnecessary, you may call me Trevor. Carrie has told me a lot about you,” the king replied and you failed to keep the shock from your face.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more of a warning,” Carrie apologized from across the table, “I wanted to be the one to give you the invitation but, well, you know how keen they are about letting me leave the grounds around here.”

You did your best to hold back an unladylike snort at that. If she hadn’t learned how to sneak out, Carrie probably never would have left the palace except on official business.

“And yet you seem to have managed an extensive amount of time out in the village,” the king— Trevor— retorted and Carrie pouted at being caught out.

“I had to take matters into my own hands since you never would’ve let me go,” Carrie threw back and you felt as though you were intruding.

“Let’s not revisit this argument right now,” Trevor said kindly, though sounding a bit tired, before he changed the subject. “Tell me about yourself Y/N.”

You did just that over the course of your meal. You talked about your family and life in your village. You talked about meeting Carrie and some of your time spent together, about how she taught you astronomy since it wasn’t covered in your own studies. You must have been fidgeting with your necklace quite a bit throughout the conversation as it seemed to have caught the king’s attention.

“That’s a lovely necklace, Y/N, where did you get it?”

“Thank you,” you flushed slightly as you thought about the circumstances under which you had gotten the necklace. “It was made by a local jeweler, however, it was given to me by Carrie.”

Trevor nodded thoughtfully at your response, a knowing look in his eyes that you didn’t understand. Meanwhile, Carrie launched into a glowing recommendation of the jeweler even pointing out all the pieces he had made that she was currently wearing.

When the final plates were cleared from the table Trevor addressed you once more.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you were brought here,” he began, “It wasn’t solely to get to know a friend of Carrie’s.”

Just then Carrie cleared her throat.

“I think I should probably handle this part,” she spoke and Trevor chuckled lightly.

“That you should,” he agreed.

Carrie took a deep breath, looking more nervous than you thought you’d ever seen her. Out of instinct, you reached a hand across the table, covering one of her own in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. Carrie stared down at your hand for a moment before looking back up, smiling softly at you.

“You are undoubtedly my closest friend, and I will always be grateful for that friendship,” Carrie began, still smiling shyly at you, and you felt your heart start to thump anxiously in your chest. “However, for quite some time now my feelings for you have far exceeded that of friendship.”

You blinked a few times, feeling suddenly as if you were in a dream. Surely this wasn’t reality and the woman you’d had feelings for quite some time wasn’t confessing that she reciprocated said feelings.

“If you feel the same way, and it’s not too much to ask, I was hoping you’d be my girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Of course, as a princess, there’s a whole official courting process ending in an engagement though I’m sure it’ll be slightly different since I’m technically courting you but- wait did you say yes?”

“Yes, Carrie,” you laughed giddily and in one swift movement Carrie had rushed around the table and swept you into her arms.

You melted into the embrace, beyond thrilled to be holding— and held by— your best friend in the way you’d always hoped but never thought you’d be able to as you rested your forehead against her own.

“I know this is really early in our relationship but I'm pretty sure I’m in love with you,” you spoke softly and she grinned.

“Me too,” she whispered back before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

#jatpbb #jatp big bang #jatp #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fic #carrie wilson #carrie wilson x reader

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lluvguts · 3 years

Text

Cool Blue ; Chapter Seven

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

frightened by my feelings

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

☽ a/n: i'm so sorry for the long wait! i've been in a mood.

☽ warnings: internalized homophobia

☽ fic masterlist

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

Alberto broke away from Giulia's hand clasped in his own and listened to their steps (his silent, always barefoot but Giulia's sandals slapped the boards unpleasantly) up the rickety staircase to the hallway. Mismatched pairs of socks and a few pencil shavings led them off in a distinct line to Alberto's room, ending at his door, a sign to anyone else in the house that Alberto had been rummaging through the downstairs cupboards at night; whereas Giulia's room opposite his, clean when she wanted it to be, teeming with school books and Machi's homemade cat toys and plant life, had no such trail.

"You know, come to think of it, this makes much more sense now," Giulia mused, her eyes fixed on her toes as Alberto abruptly stopped them at the doorway to his room.

Alberto felt a headache start to blossom beneath his eyelids, above his browbone. A throb with no rhythm but all the more pain to make up for it. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the steadying weight of the doorframe pressing on his shoulder as he leaned on it. Giulia knew, but she...also didn't. A tiny fleck marked the frame and only became apparent in his blurry vision, just a chip on the wood. Stripped of paint and sticking out against the cream walls in an ugly slash.

He trailed his thumb along the divot, feeling the splinters biting underneath his calloused hand. Giulia was still talking, ignoring his silence. The tension only grew the longer Alberto hovered at the door, refusing to open it and let all of those things come seeping out, with Giulia's smug remarks making the pain reach a high point.

"...I'm not nearly as obvious about, uh, my thing as you are. I don't go painting pictures of him--which I'm almost positive you do, by the way. Oh! And Papa's camera? You took photos, too? Santa mozzarella, Alberto, this is just like a soap opera--"

Alberto's thumbnail dug into the wood. "Yeah, okay Giulia, we get it. You're such a genius or whatever for knowing my secrets, alright? Will you ever shut up?"

Giulia blinked, losing some of that teasing glint in her eyes, but only for a moment. She stood up straighter and examined Alberto's pained expression and his half-stance, shouldered up on the wallpaper so he didn't faint from fear. She yanked his forearm away from the divot in the doorframe and pulled it forward, propelling them into Alberto's room without any other notice.

"Wait! Giulia! It's-It's very messy in here! I wouldn't want you having a heart attack or something..." Alberto rambled, flinging free of her grip once again to run ahead of her.

Always in the lead, scrambling to kick his discarded bath towel under the bed, and the rush of feelings that surged with it. The photos. The pictures were still on the dresser, and Giulia was standing by the bed, so that saved him at least a few agonizing minutes. While she grimaced at his crumpled sheets, pinching her nose and complaining of the fish smell, Alberto shied away from her gaze, laughing nervously and edged closer to the dresser.

"Honestly, Alberto," Giulia picked up his comforter, then wrinkled her nose in disgust and it flew from her fingers. "Haven't you heard of airing out your bedroom? The window is literally right here."

He glanced over Giulia's shoulder at the harbor beyond, thinking she should be at work. They should both be at work, or working, or doing at least something. "Don't like it."

"Don't like the window?" A piece of dirty laundry, another item under close sibling scrutiny, was dropped from her hands. Giulia turned from the wall and smirked unconvincingly at Alberto's palms outstretched along the top of the dresser, practically leaning on it for dear life.

He tried to clear his throat, but it was dry. Everything in his room was dry. The towel from the night before was cast under his bed, stiff as old citrus. The empty glass behind him, the tiny ring of water that clung to the bottom now dried up. Definitely what had happened hours before had nothing to do with what was already drying inches below his belt. God, he needed a shower to scrub off the memories. No, sear them off his skin.

Stop. Don't think of that.

"No! I, uh--" Alberto closed his eyes, opened them, closed them again, that headache never seeming to go away. "I don't...like...the boats."

That was mostly true. He just didn't like some boats in particular, the ones that hunted down sea monsters and pried the scales from their bodies as if they were gold flecks. He didn't mind giving up the salty nighttime breeze for peace of mind. What he didn't want to sacrifice, however, was the lingering (stifling) smell of Luca's scales clinging to his bedsheets and in the bathroom, with the door constantly open, a heady ocean candle that was never snuffed out.

"Pfft! You liar, you basically live on a boat you work so much. What about it could you possibly not like?" She tried a new tactic, no longer rooting through article after offensive article of boyish mess, and instead picked apart the uneasy smile in Alberto's upturned lips, evident in the sweat along his temple.

Her dark eyes roamed over Alberto, looking up at the wall then back down to his sprawled arms and aching shoulders, realization dawning. "You're...stalling! Hah! Think changing the subject will do you any good when you're around me, eh?"

Giulia marched over to Alberto, who even hunched back to conceal the contents of the dresser was taller by a few inches.

"You're hiding something, aren't you?" Giulia whispered, her voice once dripping with an easygoing slyness that only came with being siblings. But now, she steeled her eyes over Alberto's shoulder, freckled and tanned and nicked with fishing scars, searching but said nothing else.

Alberto slid his tongue along the rough roof of his mouth, tasting salt. He winced at Giulia's tender fingertips brushing over the top of his shoulders to reach for something outside of his vision, but by the feather-light intake of breath that Giulia did a poor job at hiding, he knew exactly what she had found. One photo turned to two, then three, and soon Giulia was thumbing through all of them like the old card deck they always managed to misplace on late nights.

"Luca," Giulia murmured softly, the polaroids pinched between her shaking fingers. She said his name, and the grapefruit that Massimo had held in his bare hand came to mind, suddenly. His name sounded sweet as she said it, peeling back the shocking rinds to a much more bitter discovery, the picture wrapped in a thin little fruit membrane that Giulia had torn apart and dove in hands first to pick out the seeds. She said his name, and Alberto bit his tongue, waiting, waiting. The salty tang was met with the quick release of blood as he chewed on his lip, not caring for the sting but more so for the way the air in the room stood still.

Giulia was sitting on the bed now, and Alberto was still sprawled out along the dresser, feeling time rush back in to greet him. The window was still closed. The bath towel peeked out from hard bedframe, sage fabric frozen in place, silently screaming if Alberto could guess. All of the warmth in the room flooded to Alberto's face, his flushed cheeks burning so hot he covered them with clammy palms. This wasn't happening...

The dizziness in his brain had subsided, at least for now. Pushed to the side. "I...uh...I think I can--You aren't afraid, are you?"

Giulia opened her mouth, speaking silent demands. The pictures were still in her hands. Though she was shaking and casting their glossy film over Alberto's pleading eyes. He took a step to her, and she held up a hand--the one that wasn't clutching the polaroids. Holding Luca. Così bello, Luca.

"Take me to him."

"Huh?" Alberto skittered back, eyeing the photos but afraid to take them from her hands, gently thumbing through them again like she was seeing the glossy scales and bright eyes for the first time. "I don't know...uh, I don't know what you're asking, Giulia," Alberto breathed, itching to take the stack of photos. Giulia sensed her brother's restlessness and stood up to place them into his trembling hands. They fit perfectly into his palms, and he carded through the five with a fond smile he quickly abandoned when realization hit him and Giulia was, there.

"Saying they were just a myth, Alberto?" Giulia brought all of the photos together carefully, choosing not to see Alberto's eyebrows shooting up into his head of curls but at the rows and neat edges she'd made. "But oh, wow, Luca. So...much different that what Papa says about sea monsters. He's so..."

Alberto's heart sped up. "Beautiful?" Was he even allowed to say that? What would she think?

Giulia nodded, flashing an appreciate grin but still indecisive.

"That's okay, Alberto," She wrapped her hands over Alberto's, a pillar to his crumbling resolve, and put her chin against his collarbone to still him. She sighed, a rumbling breath into his ribcage, and he felt his chest lighten. "It's okay to think he's beautiful."

Alberto didn't think he could get a word out, with his sister's hair inches from his nose, filling his head with soothing, sleepy smells. She had stuck a stem of lavender from the vase in the kitchen behind her ear.

No it's not.

"Shhh, fratello. Just don't think for a moment, si?" Giulia took the photos again and put them in her pants pocket, then wrapped her assuring arms around Alberto's neck as he let out a soundless cry. "You're okay."

Alberto buried the bridge of his sunburnt nose into Giulia's hair, the tiny periwinkle flower buds tickling his cheekbone.

"The lavanda in the vase, you bought that? It...was for him, wasn't it?" Giulia murmured to distract, petting the side of his neck to calm him down.

"...He couldn't keep it. The petals would float to the surface." His words came out sniffled and ugly-sounding, making him cringe but also hold in a laugh imagining Luca bringing a bouquet of flowers underwater just to see them all rush past his wide eyes to the surf above.

Giulia snorted and laughed against his chest, and soon Alberto was chuckling softly along with her. "Let's go see il tuo cuore, okay?"

"You're serious?" Alberto readjusted the lavender stem in her hair. "Giulia, this is like the total opposite of how I thought this would go."

She took his hand tenderly and went to the door, but not without a whiplash turn of her head, cocking one eyebrow in defiance. "What, did you expect me to reach for the nearest harpoon? Like everyone else in this town? I don't think so." She tapped her forehead, smirking. "Open mind, dummy."

Alberto squeezed her pinky finger. "Okay, you were so sweet a second ago. What happened?"

"Lots of things, big guy," Giulia clicked her tongue and pulled Alberto's hand closer. "But that vase on the dining room table, those flowers. That's how I knew. If it were a girl, you would have listened to Papa's advice for roses. But you got lavender."

Alberto sighed, fighting the impulse to tug his hand away and retreat fearfully back to his room. "If you think it's such a stupid idea, we can make tea with them. Papa got a new kettle at the market."

Giulia gave him a side glance again. "And what about Luca?"

"Fine, no tea then." Alberto stumbled on his words, choking on them almost. Would Luca...even be there? After what had happened...

He blushed and stopped, inches above Giulia's head when he stood one step higher than her, looking directly into the kitchen on his right where the vase was. Evening light spilled in the window by the sink the Marcovaldos refused to close, bathing the ornate, bottle green glass in moody flashes of color on the patched up tablecloth. A sliver of a grapefruit rind sat, hard and darkened next to the reflection of lavender stems, from Massimo's talk. Alberto swallowed the immediate flush of nausea, hating the way he could almost taste the embarrassment and worry on his tongue, inside his pores.

It was going to get dark soon.

#luberto #luberto fanfic #luberto fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #luca #luca fanfic #luca x alberto #luca paguro #luca movie #luca fanfiction #alberto scorfano #luca paguro x alberto scorfano #luca and alberto #gay fish boys #luca pixar

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georgescatcafe · 3 years

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vermillion — 2

rating: t warning/s: period-typical homophobia pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: cowboy x city boy au, rancher sapnap, rich george, coming of age, slow burn word count: 3,850 summary: When Sapnap gets sent into the city to get quick cash for his family’s struggling ranch, he’s not expecting much from the experience—lights aren’t very blinding when held up to the Sun, and he’s not exactly there to play around. But then he meets George, a boy built on money, who quickly sweeps in not just paying customers but also Sapnap, leading him into what any ruddy country boy would call the mouth of the Devil: high society. Cue a summer spent by each other’s side while feelings run unbidden, uncaring of deadlines and restraints.

It should be enough for the pair—and for awhile, it is, right up until it isn’t.

+ao3 +masterpost

;;

It’s as much an exercise for George as it is for Sapnap. George isn’t actually that good with people; his false bravado stemmed from seeing the lonely boy there with an apple, and some bright bit of light—God’s light, a sign, George would say if he were a romantic—slashed across the boy’s face when George’s eyes land on him, turning his skin golden and illuminating the stars in his midnight hair. The image was enough to put George into motion, sending him over to the boy in the Pappas Ranch booth. Of course, any and all sweetness George had that his mother and her friends cooed and awed about flew from his body the minute he opened his mouth, but now, he sits at that booth and is the one constant company to Sapnap Pappas.

“That can’t be your actual name,” George turns to him when there’s a lull in customers, “Sapnap. Sapnap Pappas?”

Sapnap places the blade of his butcher knife to a particularly thick bit of fat before slicing through. “It’s not,” he says.

“Thought so.” George readjusts, and again, Sapnap reaches out a hand to steady the unstable booth. “So, what’s your actual name?”

“Is Sapnap not good enough for you?” Sapnap sends him a quick glance from under dark brows before going back to his work. George shrugs.

“It’s dumb,” George says. “But I guess it’s fine. But I want to know. Amuse me.”

“That’s because I was named it by my friend,” Sapnap tells him, wrapping up the meat and putting it in a cooler, “when we were, like, five.”

“Friend?” George glances over his shoulder at the market. He’s pretty sure it’s nearing dinnertime. His stomach has started to give the occasional rumble. Sapnap hasn’t noticed, though. That’s fine. George took time away from him at lunch. He can wait a bit longer for dinner.

“Yeah,” Sapnap replies. “I had a pen pal.”

“Had?”

Sapnap nods, then finally meets George’s eyes. “Are you going to contribute anything useful or just keep repeating everything I say?”

“You’re telling me about your past,” George says. “You don’t want to hear about mine.”

At that, he gets a disbelieving look that he chooses to ignore.

“Maybe another time,” George suggests. “Or quid pro quo.”

Sapnap studies him for another second before nodding. “He suggested we switch to email. The Internet at my house is super spotty, so sometimes it’s back to letters, but it’s not terrible, and I’ve got an AOL account. Pa told me it’d be useful for work too, so. No biggie, I guess. So yeah, we email.”

George doesn’t have spotty Internet; he has an AOL account—his mum told him he’d need it. He doesn’t use it often. Most of his friends live nearby anyway. “Cool,” he says.

Sapnap nods then puts away his knives and leans forward, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. George looks back over his shoulder. “Quid pro quo, George,” when George finally turns to him again, he smiles, “so?”

So George tells him about his AOL account. How he doesn’t use it. Then he tells him about his friends. “But some are just connections,” George clarifies, “and some I think hate me. I don’t really care, but it is stressful. I’d rather not deal with them at all, knowing some of the shit they say.” Sapnap gives a sympathetic hum. “But I do it. If not for my future, then for my mum and dad. They’re good. And under stress. We’ve got noble blood, really, but that just puts a price on our heads, I think. So I just… do what makes them happy ‘cause they’ve got enough to think about, you know?”

Sapnap blinks. George takes that as a no. He continues:

“Guess you could consider yourself lucky. Is that what it’s like? Just being friends with people to be their friend?”

“Yeah,” Sapnap says. “Sometimes it’s because we grew up together, and I don’t like them much anymore, but they’re all I know, but… I still care about them. And it’s not… we don’t have prices on our heads. Sorry.”

George wants to laugh, but he bites it back, this time looking over at the woman in the next booth. She sends him a polite wave. George sends her one back. He feels Sapnap’s eyes on him the entire time. “’S fine,” George replies. He sits up, fingers drumming on wood. “So, your actual name, Sapnap Pappas?”

“Nick,” Sapnap says. “Nick Pappas.”

“A lot less stupid than Sapnap.”

“Maybe,” George wonders whether he should call the other his nickname (ha!) or his actual one, “but I don’t know. Going by Sapnap here is kind of fun. Like a secret identity. Or alter ego.”

“Don’t like being a country bumpkin, Mr. Pappas?” George shoots the other a teasing grin.

Sapnap (George has grown used to the name, and apparently, so has the other, no use calling him anything else now) grins back. “Proud of my roots,” he says. “Which isn’t bumpkin, thank you very much. But I do… I like the pretending. Just for a bit. Just for the summer. Takes some of the pressure off, I think.”

“Do you often fall victim to childhood nostalgia?” George raises his brows to show him he’s joking. Sapnap offers a smile.

“Is that what it is?”

“You tell me.” George glances out to the sky, where the Sun has started to set. “Let’s try to get a couple more buyers then head out for dinner.”

“Are you going to study business?” Sapnap asks, nodding when George motions to a father and son pair across the way. “In college?”

“Probably,” George replies, “amongst other things. Here. I’ll be right back.” And then he slips off the counter, leaving Sapnap alone, heading over to the father and his kid. He draws them in easy, a promise of a good bonding experience, grilling some juicy cuts of steak in their backyard, and Sapnap ends up just a little bit richer. After going through the process again, this time taking a goat off of Pappas Ranch’s hands, George watches Sapnap count the money before the other disappears fully behind the booth, locking the cash away in a safe. The emotion in him… George wouldn’t call it guilt, but it’s something that twists his stomach in all the wrong ways, makes him want to hop from foot to foot, not meet the other’s eyes. He could advertise to his parents. To his family. Hell, he could just give Sapnap the cash in his wallet. And it’d be fine. He wouldn’t even ask for anything. “Sell it to other people,” he’d say. “I don’t need it.”

Yet he hasn’t done any of that.

“What’re you thinking about?” George jumps when Sapnap finally walks out from behind the booth. “You look like you need to take a shit.”

“I don’t,” George replies, “I just….” He doesn’t know what to say. Even if he did, he doesn’t think he’d know how to say it. He gives a shrug. “Thinking about dinner, what to get, I guess. I’m hungry.”

“Honestly,” Sapnap says, “me too.” They start to leave, Sapnap continually throwing glances over his shoulder, before he finally continues: “Are you taking me to another French place?”

George shakes his head. “We can go somewhere else. Less fancy if you want.”

Sapnap thinks. George takes them towards the main road. He doesn’t really know all the city, just (he glances over to Sapnap before looking away, to the ground—it’s not guilt, it isn’t) the richer neighborhoods, but he can read a map, and honestly, he knows all the streets well enough, just not what’s down them all. “I just can’t really afford to spend money,” Sapnap eventually says. “And I’m not going to make you spend a bunch either,” he levels George with a look, “even if you can afford to.”

In a way, George can see that as fair. That doesn’t mean he has to accept it, though. “I can pay, and you won’t—if you think it’ll make you owe me or I’ll think you’re in debt to me or whatever, don’t. Just tell me what you want.”

“Where would you normally go for dinner?”

Home. George would be at home.

“I know a place,” he says instead. And when he goes, Sapnap follows.

;;

It’s a bit farther away than the French restaurant, closer to George’s house too, but Sapnap doesn’t seem to mind, and George tells him they’ll catch a cab back. “Walking could cause cramps,” George says. “It’s happened to me once or twice. Did you get it? I imagine working on a ranch is… non-stop.”

“It is,” Sapnap replies. “Ate when working sometimes, but Ma always had us eating together at dinner. But I’ve definitely had a sandwich or two on horseback.”

“Bite your tongue ever?” George glances over at him; Sapnap’s watching his feet on the pavement. Eventually, he turns to meet the other’s gaze.

“Once or twice.” They share a smile.

On the corner of Bell and Lamar sits a diner, the neon lights of its sign flickering on in the evening dark. BENNY it reads, letters vertical. Sapnap stares up at them; the magenta reflects in his eyes. “Come here often?” he asks.

“It’s cozier than,” George pulls a face, exaggerating his words, “Un petit creux.”

“I can believe that.” Sapnap pushes open the door. A bell overhead jingles. A sign reads to seat yourself, so they do, scooting into a booth that has a view of Bell Street, the seat cool through George’s pants. He watches Sapnap’s fingers as they drum against the countertop before disappearing below the table. “What do you usually get?” he finally asks.

George doesn’t come here often. “Chicken and waffles,” he replies.

There’re a couple menus slotted between the sugar and napkins, and Sapnap’s hands come back into view to grab one. His eyes roam over the laminated paper, glancing up at George, who sits there quietly, every few seconds.

“Are you going to look?” he asks, motioning to the remaining menu.

George shrugs. “I’m alright.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before his gaze finally drops. George takes this time to continue watching him. He’s got a bandana tied around his head, holding his hair back, but still some of his fringe falls over the fabric, forcing him to push it back every few seconds as he tries to read. George swallows before letting his eyes wander lower across his brow bone, the slope of his nose before the rest of his face disappears behind the menu. And Sapnap’s eyes are covered by long lashes. George looks away.

Across the room, he accidentally makes eye contact with a waitress, who offers him a polite smile and starts to walk over. “Hope you know what you want,” George warns Sapnap, who looks up, confused, right before the waitress reaches their table.

“What can I get you boys?” she asks, voice cheery, drawl strong.

George smiles. “Chicken and waffles please.”

“And a burger for me please,” Sapnap tells her, putting the menu back.

The waitress gives them a nod before pivoting, and then George goes, “Wait, uh, can I please get a chocolate shake too?” When the waitress writes it down, George wants to take it back.

He wants to take it back even more when Sapnap adds, “Me too please.”

George sneaks a peek at him from the corner of his eye. Sapnap’s just got an easy smile on his face, and when he turns to George, all he says is, “You didn’t get a treat earlier. But now I want one too.”

George completely forgot about their argument after lunch. He doesn’t tell Sapnap that, though. “I can pay,” is what he says instead, “since we’re getting the shakes.”

“I thought we agreed to go Dutch.” Sapnap says. “Don’t switch up on me now.”

“I’m not switching up on you,” George retorts. “I’m being polite.”

“You don’t need to be polite,” Sapnap replies. “We’re friends. Friends aren’t polite with each other.”

“Mine are.” George refrains from rolling his eyes. “And is that what we are? Friends?”

“Here, I’ll start the un-politeness,” Sapnap declares. “George, very not politely, what the fuck does that mean?”

“I just didn’t realize you thought we’re friends already,” George replies, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants.

“Do you think we’re not?”

George shakes his head. “We are. I mean, I think we are. Didn’t realize it’s reciprocated.”

“Yeah, well,” Sapnap’s cheeks puff up as he blows out air, “you know.”

He does.

The food is good, obviously, but when the waitress returns with two chocolate shakes, George has to repress a cringe. As he attempts to take a drink, he looks across the table at Sapnap, who’s already eaten his cherry and is, George assumes, trying to tie the stem into a knot with his tongue. George lifts from his straw. “You look stupid.” When Sapnap glares at him, George takes an innocent sip.

“And you can do it, hotshot?”

“No,” George replies honestly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t look stupid.”

“Well,” Sapnap takes another second to roll the stem around before he opens his mouth, tongue lolling out, cherry stem falling onto the plate below—tied in a neat, little knot.

George looks away, heat spreading under his skin.

“People who can do that are good kissers, so I don’t care how stupid I look if it means I kiss well.”

The first emotion George feels is curiosity. The next is humiliation. “Why would I need to know that?” he asks, eyes resolutely on his shake. It’s melted some, and now he drinks it easily. When he pulls back to breathe, he adds: “Why would you tell me that?” His offense is too extreme, and when he looks up, finally meeting Sapnap’s eyes, he knows Sapnap knows it too. “I’m sorry,” he says. He takes another sip. Though he’s no longer looking at the other, he can feel Sapnap’s gaze on him, and he’s uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He can’t take back the words, though, so all he does is drink his shake and try to avoid any and all eye contact. And then something bumps into his foot under the table.

He freezes, hunched halfway over his straw. Another bump to his foot, a gentle nudge. He risks a glance up. Sapnap is staring at him, expression intense. George swallows.

“No,” he says.

“Why not?” Sapnap taps their shoes together again.

“No.” George leans forward, hoping to convey with that one word just how against this he is.

“Just give me one good reason as to why not, George,” Sapnap replies. “Then I’ll stop.”

There’s lots of reasons. “I’m not… into that.” A lack of attraction isn’t one of them.

Sapnap sighs. “Fine, me neither. I just wanted to see what you’d do. Not going to lie, you seemed like the type.”

George scoffs, genuine hurt rising in his chest. He plays it off as disgust. “You’re such an asshole.” Sapnap sends him a disinterested look, merely leaning forward to drink his shake. George frowns as he watches the other, until he mimics the pose, the cold chocolate an easy distraction and quick way to cool down from the heat that has yet to dissipate. God, seriously. What a dick.

;;

The rest of the night more or less ruined, George keeps his hands in his pockets as they make their way back to the market. Sapnap’s quiet beside him, and whenever George glances over, he’s always looking away or at his feet. George hates the guilt rising in him. It’s not his fault Sapnap chose to be weird. It’s not his fault for reading the signs as they were then having them thrown back in his face.

Sapnap wouldn’t have done any of that if he were actually…. George glances over again; Sapnap’s eyes are locked on the ground. No use thinking about it now.

“We did good today,” he says. “We make a good team.”

When he looks over again, Sapnap is finally looking at him too. And he’s smiling. George smiles back as Sapnap nods. “Yeah,” he says, “we do.”

"I’ll be back tomorrow,” George tells him. “If that’s okay.”

“More than okay,” Sapnap replies, smile still on his face. The market is in sight now. “I like spending time with you.”

George hopes he isn’t as red as he thinks he is. The Sun is setting—maybe he can blame any color he has on that. “I,” he laughs, nervous, “like spending time with you too.”

They fall into an unsteady silence; not uncomfortable, just… cautious. George does his best to keep looking ahead. When they reach the market, Sapnap is quick to check over his booth, making sure everything is still where they left it, and then he hefts the cooler up, the muscles in his left arm flexing as he adjusts it over his shoulder, his freehand digging into his pocket for his keys.

George watches before he finally asks, “Do you need me to carry anything?”

Sapnap, who had been inspecting his keys, looks up at him. “Nah, I’m good. You can head to my truck if you want.” There’s not many cars left in the small lot next to the market—when George looks over, a sleek black car pulls out, leaving only three SUVs and two trucks, one rusted and rough, the other white with mud all along the tires. George honestly isn’t sure which is Sapnap’s. “I can drive you home.” He tosses George the keys, and George’s heart spikes as he reaches out to catch them before they fall. “She’s pretty beat up, but she still works.”

So it’s the rusty one. George turns to look at it again, at the chipping sky blue paint, the rust that colors it brown and speckled—a robin’s egg, before turning back to Sapnap and nodding. Sapnap gives him a smile, and then George turns and goes, marching dutifully up to the truck, inspecting it closer, like there’s much to inspect, before he unlocks it and climbs carefully into the passenger seat. He sits there.

There’s not much inside the car.

Eventually, there comes a thud from behind, and when he turns to look over the back of his seat, he sees Sapnap loading his coolers into the bed of the truck, slamming the tailgate shut before taking his safe with him to the front of the truck. When he opens the door, he drops the safe down on the seat between them. George looks between it and Sapnap before he turns back to the truck bed. Inside, he sees the coolers, along with a pillow, blanket, and duffel bad. He readjusts, once again facing forward. Sapnap’s starts the truck.

“Where to?” he asks.

“I’ll give you the directions,” George replies.

;;

When they reach George’s house, George remains in his seat. Sapnap tells him he’ll see him tomorrow and that he’s actually a big help (and a big pain in the ass—he says it smiling, of course) and that he’s surprised George’s clothes aren’t dirty despite spending all day outside. George asks him if he sleeps in his truck.

“Uh.” Sapnap blinks, and George’s mouth snaps shut, eyes wide and cheeks heating with humiliation.

“I just—because the pillows and there was a blanket and,” he takes a breath, “I shouldn’t have assumed. You probably just don’t like hotel beds or something.”

Sapnap stares at him. George stares at his nose in return.

Finally, Sapnap releases a quiet breath. With the minimal distance between them, George feels it across his skin. Atop his thighs, his fingers curl into his palms. “Yeah,” Sapnap says. “I am. Can’t afford to waste any money.”

George swallows. “Oh.” Right. It’s always money. That twist in his stomach grows tighter. He looks to his house, the dark windows, curtained, blocking views of the inside. The topiaries that stand tall at the sides of the door. Inside, there’s more than one unused room. More than enough space for Sapnap, with his duffel bag and blanket. With his one pillow. And four brick walls, that’s always safer than a truck. George looks down to the safe that still sits between them. He can feel Sapnap’s gaze on him, heavy as always, and when he looks back up, he finds Sapnap has moved even closer. George presses himself to the window but tries his best not to make it obvious. He doesn’t have to. He could just get out of the truck, go to the front door, unlock it and shut it behind him, leave Sapnap to his own devices. Will Sapnap think he sees him as a charity case? He doesn’t. George glances back over at his house. There’s even a spare bedroom across from his own. It’s really not a problem. Sapnap wouldn’t think he sees him as a charity case—they argue too much for him to think that.

But is it really a good idea?

The crank for the window digs uncomfortably into George’s back.

But is Sapnap sleeping in his truck, inside it or in the bed, when he doesn’t have to better?

“Do you want to spend the night?” George asks.

It’s too much. Hell, George is even growing tired of the other’s presence, not necessarily Sapnap himself, but he just needs some time to think, yet here he is trying to get Sapnap to spend even more time with him. Sapnap probably feels the same way. But he has to at least offer. Has to at least try getting Sapnap into a proper bed—not a truck one.

“Like, at your house?” Sapnap looks past George to the imposing structure.

George nods.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit…,” Sapnap makes a face, searching for the word, “I don’t know, weird?”

“Weird?” George repeats.

“Well, like, we just kind of spent all day together, and, like, you’re rich or whatever and my truck looks like—you saw it, and I look like,” he motions to himself, his sweaty t-shirt, the leather belt and worn jeans he wears. On his feet, dirty boots, “y’know.”

He does know. Regardless, he shrugs. “My parents won’t mind.” They might. But George can fend them off… or something. “And it’s not charity,” he adds quickly, eyes widening.

Sapnap sends him a look. “I didn’t think it was, but thanks for the reassurance.”

“I just don’t think you should have to sleep in your truck when there’s plenty of room at my house.” George swallows when Sapnap studies him for another second. He smiles, awkward.

Eventually, Sapnap shrugs. “Fine,” he decides. “But I don’t believe that your parents won’t mind. You’re a terrible liar, George.”

George opens his door. “It doesn’t matter ‘cause I’m not lying.”

Sapnap laughs, turning off the truck and getting out. “Yeah, right.”

George grabs the duffel bag from out the back, and he tries not to squirm when he realizes Sapnap’s watching him. He tugs it onto his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says, “I'm actually right.”

;;

#snf vermillion #georgenap #sapnotfound #snf #fic #fanfiction

18 notes · View notes

idnek83 · 3 years

Text

Aid - Chapter 2/13

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham

Tags: Alternate Universe - Island Mode, No Game Spoilers, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Grinding, Wet Dreams, Anal Fingering, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Anal Sex

Summary: Everyone is hot and half naked because of their beach vacation. Soda is horny and tries to do something about it. Gundham tries to help and does. It all gets a little out of hand.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Read on Ao3

This Chapter: Soda isn't really sure where he stands with Gundham right now, but he's not going to worry about it. The boys bond over hamsters.

_____________________

All in all, things had been way less awkward than Soda thought they would be.

After catching his breath and cleaning up the mess Soda had made on his stomach, Gundham simply left the beach house, stating that he needed to “construct fortifications worthy of The Four Dark Devas of Destruction,” grabbing a bucket and small plastic shovel on his way out of the storage room.

Soda had given himself a moment to think about how weird, and maybe slightly cute, Gundham was for making his hamsters a sandcastle, before leaving out the back door of the beach house.

After that he didn’t see Gundham again until dinner, where he took the seat beside Soda silently and began to eat his meal.

This caught Hajime’s attention, and when he asked about it Gundham spoke up for the first time that meal.

“Kazuichi has elected to ally his body with mine on my dark crusade through this mortal realm. Is it so unnatural that I deign to be near those who I consider my confidants?”

‘Ally his body with mine’? Did Gundham actually just admit to everyone that they had… we’ll they didn’t really fuck, but they had gotten each other off and that was still super awkward to just announce in the middle of a group dinner.

“Oh, so you two are buddies now then?” Akane offered through a mouthful of meat.

Sonia, who seemed to have the uncanny ability to perfectly understand what Gundham was saying at least 50% of the time, narrowed her beautiful eyes and raised a perfectly shaped brow, her gaze shifting between the two of them.

“Uh, yeah. Haha, you got a problem with us being bros, Hajime? Promise I’ll always make time for my soul buddy, so ya don’t gotta be jealous.” Soda forced an exaggerated laugh to try to hide how nervous he felt under Sonia’s stunning gaze. “So, uh, anyways, Hajime, who ended up winning that game of chicken?”

With the topic safely changed the rest of the dinner was pretty unremarkable, aside from Soda constantly replaying what Gundham had said in his mind, and trying to figure out just what exactly the fuck he had meant. It had to be just weird Gundham speak for ‘we’re bros now’ right? There’s no way he would just come out and tell everyone they got each other off, even in his weird cryptic way of speaking, right?

Everyone ended up just heading back to their cabins after dinner, and Soda found himself sleeping better than he had since they arrived on the island.

When they met up for breakfast the next day Gundham sat next to him again, bantering with their classmates in the same strange way he usually did, no strange maybe-confessions of hooking up to be heard. Soda relaxed and let himself join the conversation like normal.

The rest of the day passed without note, Soda spent most of it fiddling with various knickknacks he had found around the island and wishing he could have brough his bike to work on instead. When dinner rolled around Gundham once again took his seat beside Soda, and he accepted that this was just the way it was gonna be from now on.

Except that now he’s been sitting in the hotel restaurant for like 20 minutes, having finished his breakfast a while ago, and the seat beside him is still empty.

Where the hell was Gundham?

Well whatever, dude can do what he wants, it’s not like they made a promise to eat together or anything.

Soda picked up his plate and took it over to the kitchen to be washed later. When he turned around Gundham was behind him.

“Shit!” Soda jumped back before calming down a bit “D-don’t fucking do that man, you scared me.”

“Apologies, my companion. I did not mean to frighten you, it had slipped my mind just how dulled mortals’ senses are. I will be sure to alert you of my presence next time.”

Soda rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by how startled he had been. “Whatever dude. Where were you anyways? You missed breakfast.” Right when he had just gotten used to him being there too.

“Ah, I must apologize again.” Gundham actually bowed slightly this time. “I was cleansing impurities from the lairs of my Dark Devas, and it would appear that I fell prey to some fiendish time anomaly.”

Cleaning his hamster cages and lost track of time, got it.

Gundham stood upright again. “However, now that the Devas’ lairs have been properly cleansed, it would be safe for a mortal such as yourself to lay eyes on them.”

Gundham seemed to be waiting for Soda to say something. Oh, was that his way of inviting him to check out his hamster cages? Soda didn’t really know a lot about caring for hamsters, so he wouldn’t mind going back to Gundham’s room and-

Oh.

Gundham’s room.

Shit was Gundham propositioning him? It was still pretty early, but maybe Gundham was more of a morning guy when it came to getting off. Ok, yeah, he could work with that.

Soda could feel himself blushing. “S-sure.”

Gundham simply raised an eyebrow.

Right he didn’t actually ask Soda to come ‘look at his hamster cages,’ he just heavily implied that Soda should ask him if he could ‘look at his hamster cages.’

“Right, I mean, if it’s safe and whatever do you think I could take a look at your ham- uh, Devas’ lairs?”

“If that is your wish, I will accompany you their lairs once I have found sustenance.”

Right, you shouldn’t bone on an empty stomach. That’s probably a thing people say, right?

“Cool, I’ll just, uh, be in my room then. So just come get me once your… sustained?” Look, he was trying alright?

Gundham spared him a nod before moving to find his own breakfast. Then Soda left the hotel to go sit in his room like a dumbass who definitely should have just stayed in the hotel cus what the fuck was he gonna do in his room for the like 10 minute it would take Gundham to eat?

He entered his cabin and flopped onto his bed. Should he like, put on sexy underwear or something? Did he own sexy underwear? All his boxers fit him pretty much the same, and even if they were slightly different, they were all covered in similar random splashes of neon colors, so none of them really seemed any sexier than the others.

What the fuck were you supposed to do while waiting for a hookup? He couldn’t, like, get things started on his own cus he still had to walk over to Gundham’s cabin and he wasn’t gonna risk getting caught with a hard-on again. He wasn’t sure if he had enough time to shower either… not that it’d really matter since he’d just be getting all hot and sweaty again soon anyways...

Nope, can’t think about that right now, still have to make that walk.

Soda stood and walked over to the mirror in the bathroom. He combed out his hair with his fingers, fiddled with his braid, and checked his teeth for food. Great, he had killed like 30 seconds.

Why was he so nervous damnit! They had already seen each other naked, hell he had Gundham’s dick in his mouth! He swallowed his cum! There was nothing to be nervous about!

Unless… what if Gundham wanted more this time? Soda hadn’t really thought too much about actual sex with a dude yet. Like, what exactly would Gundham expect him to do? Would he be into it if Gundham put his dick in his-

There was a knock at the door and Soda jumped.

Shit, no more time to think about it.

Soda opened the door, kinda hoping it wasn’t actually Gundham who had knocked, but there he was, in all his weird, handsome glory.

“H-hey.” It would be rude to back out now, right? Like they had that whole pact thing Gundham had mentioned so…

“I have reconstituted this mortal shell, so let us make haste. The Devas have granted you access to their lairs, Kazuichi, it would not do to make them wait.” Gundham turned and walked away.

Ok, shit, he could do this, he’d be fine. He didn’t even actually know if Gundham was gonna try to fuck him, like, they were probably just gonna mess around again, right?

Soda took a deep breath, slowly exhaled and followed Gundham to his cabin.

Once inside Soda made sure to lock the door behind himself. He needed a moment, so he pressed his head against the solid wood of the door and took another deep breath.

“Are you unwell, my companion?” Ok yeah, Gundham was gonna notice that and he was dumb for not realising it.

“I’m good, just-“

Gundham was behind him when he turned, like, right behind him. The sheer closeness of him made Soda blush, and he couldn’t manage to look Gundham in the eye. However, Gundham apparently wasn’t going to let him hide.

Soda felt Gundham place his finger below his chin, and gently lift his head so he could see his face. God, he thought they were close before, but having their faces, their mouths, so near each other made the distance feel unbelievably smaller somehow. Soda didn’t know what to do, his eyes were locked on the mismatched set currently examining his own face and he was frozen.

He felt Gundham shift, bringing his other hand up towards his face as well, and Soda couldn’t help but close his eyes, not certain what was about to happen, but anticipating it anyway.

The press of lips against his-

Gundham placed his hand on Soda’s forehead and hummed, shaking him out of whatever the hell he was imagining.

“You feel quite warm. Are you certain you are not unwell? I am positive the Devas will grant you access another time if you are not yet ready for their splendor.”

Was he ready?

“No, really I’m fine. I’m just, uh, excited I guess?” Might as well just get it over with, at least figure out what exactly Gundham wants from him before he freaks out about it. “So maybe we can just like… get right to it?”

“Such enthusiasm” Gundham’s voice was low, approving, and still so damn close that Soda could swear he felt it vibrate through his body. “Very well then.”

Gundham stepped backwards and gestured grandly to the room “Behold!”

Soda was still reeling from the tonal whiplash his own stupid thoughts were giving him, so the dumbfound look on his face, as he surveyed the colorful sprawling tubes winding their way across the floor, into a large cage and back out the top of it, was genuine.

“Impressive, is it not? The Four Dark Devas of Destruction demand not but the best in all things. This lair may be but a fragment of their true dwelling, but it is still magnificent! Do you not agree?”

Soda continued to stare at the strange structure before him, he was literally speechless.

Wait so, when Gundham asked him to come look at his hamster cages… he had actually just meant he wanted him to look at his hamster cages?

“Ha! It seems your mortal mind was not yet ready to behold such a marvel! Fear not, my dear companion, the Devas power shall not harm you while I am here! Should you still feel overwhelmed, however, you need only let me know and I will return you to your own domain swiftly.”

Gundham crossed his arms and hid the bottom half of his face in his scarf. It looked like he was starting to get embarrassed by Soda’s continued silence. Shit, he didn’t want him to think he thought it was dumb or something, time to tell his confused dick to shut up, and get his equally confused brain to start making words.

“Oh, sorry dude. I was just, um, super surprised! I mean, this stuff takes up like half your room. You must be really dedicated to taking care of your, uh, Devas if you’re willing to give up so much space for them. Like, damn dude.”

As Soda spoke, he watched as Gundham practically inflate with pride again. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see it.

“Well of course, a proper environment is important to all creatures, both large and small, but I do not consider the lost space a determent to my own domain, rather-“

Gundham began to monologue about the importance of varied and enriching environments, before delving deeply into different aspects of proper hamster care. Soda couldn’t really keep up, but he was enjoying watching Gundham talk so animatedly about something he was obviously passionate about. As Gundham talked, Soda crouched down and began to examine the tubes up close. They didn’t exactly look like they were hard to connect, but the thought of Gundham painstakingly placing them, ensuring they were properly connected so his hamsters didn’t escape or get hurt, made him smile and feel a warmth in his chest completely different from what he had felt earlier.

Gundham crouched down beside him, pausing his monologue, and immediately a hamster skittered through the tubes and stopped in front of them, as if summoned. Soda looked from the hamster to Gundham, and made sure to commit the soft smile that appeared on Gundham’s face to memory.

“Ah, Jum-P, you appear to be at full strength once again.” Gundham gently disconnected a section of the tube and allowed the hamster to crawl into his hand, before carefully reconnecting the tunnel.

“Full strength? Was he sick?”

“Jum-P was waging war with an unidentified demon late into the night. By this morning, the demon had been banished, but Jum-P was left weakened by the battle, I… was worried the battle may have been to fierce.” Gundham’s face was sober as he spoke, he was carefully examining the hamster in his hand at the same time, probably checking for any signs of remaining illness or injury.

Oh, so that was why Gundham had missed breakfast, he must have been up pretty late taking care of his hamster. In fact-

“Gundham, did you… did you get any sleep last night?” Now that he was looking, there were definitely dark circles under Gundham’s eyes. Gundham did not look away from the hamster.

“I could not rest while one of my Devas fought such a fierce battle. Though, I fear there was little I could do without knowing the true identity of the demon.” Gundham looked sad as he began to pet the hamster. “I apologize, Jum-P, I was unable to assist you in your time of need. I have failed as your guardian.” God, he had never seen Gundham look so miserable before.

“I’m sure that’s not true…” Gundham raised his miserable gaze to Soda “I-I mean, even if you couldn’t, um, fight the demon for him, I’m sure just having you there helped, right? Animals are supposed to be sensitive to that kinda stuff, aren’t they? I’m sure he knew you were there worrying about him and it, like, helped him fight better!” He was having a hard time sticking to Gundham’s battle metaphor, but he looked a bit less miserable, so Soda kept talking. “Sometimes all you really need is someone there to support you right? Everything’s a little less scary that way, so I’m sure you helped Jum-P more than you know! Uh, right?”

Gundham smiled softly again, this time while looking at Soda, and he was pretty sure he was going to die any second from how goddamn handsome this man was. When Gundham looked back at his hamster Soda was both relieved and disappointed.

“I have misjudged you, my dear companion, it appears you possess great wisdom, incongruous with your outward appearance. I thank you for your words, friend.”

“Hell yeah I’m wise, and don’t you forget it!” Soda was pretty sure Gundham had said he looked dumb somewhere in there, but whatever, he’d let it slide for now.

“Would you like to hold him?” Gundham extended the hand holding Jum-P towards Soda. The hamster was tiny, and had apparently just recovered from some disease, Soda was a little worried about hurting it by accident, but if Gundham trusted him…

“Can I? I mean is Jum-P cool with letting a mortal like me hold him? What if I, y’know, accidently hurt him or something?”

“You require great dexterity while attending to your constructs do you not? I trust your hands to be capable of managing Jum-P, he is the most tranquil of my Devas. However, if you are nervous, I will lend you my aid.” Soda blushed at the word, and he couldn’t be sure, but he thought Gundham did as well. “Hold your hands like so.” Gundham cupped both his hands together, creating a sort of bowl for the hamster to rest in.

Soda copied him, and Gundham placed the hand not occupied by Jum-P below Soda’s, supporting them as he gently placed the hamster into Soda’s palms, petting him lightly after he let go. Jum-P felt warm and ridiculously fragile in his hands, and Soda immediately began to panic. He was absolutely going to hurt this hamster somehow and Gundham was going to hate him.

“Relax.” There was that low voice again, so close, and this time Soda was certain he felt it reverberate through his body. He took a deep breath and focused on keeping his hands steady as the hamster sniffed his palms.

“Do I stink or something?” Soda let out a nervous laugh.

“Your scent is quite pleasant, Jum-P is simply familiarizing himself with it.” Gundham once again began to pet the hamster in Soda’s hands, still supporting them from below with his own.

Soda flicked his eyes up to Gundham’s face, and there was that stupid soft smile again. Soda suddenly became aware of their position. They were basically holding hands around the hamster, sitting with their knees touching and their heads bent together, foreheads no more than an inch apart. Had Gundham just said he smelled nice? He felt that weird warmth from earlier again, the one that had nothing to do with his dick and sat heavy in his chest. He swallowed and looked back down at the hamster.

“Oh! Is he asleep?” The hamster had curled up in his palms and looked to be breathing peacefully.

“Yes, it would appear Jum-P has deemed you worthy of his trust. You should be honored.”

“Oh, thanks little dude.” He giggled a bit “So do we have to sit here like this until he wakes up, or?”

Soda was enjoying himself, but his knees were starting to hurt, and he had no idea how long hamsters slept for…

“That will not be necessary, Jum-P is a sound sleeper, he will not be disturbed by being relocated to his lair. Would you like to do it, or shall I?”

Soda was pretty flattered that Gundham would trust him enough to carry the hamster across the room the cage, but he didn’t trust himself not to trip over one of the hamster tubes on the way.

“You should probably do it, I’m still pretty worried about dropping him.”

“Very well.” Gundham scooped the hamster from his palms, and Soda had to admit he kinda missed the feeling of its furry little body in his hands.

Almost as much as he missed the feeling of Gundham’s hand on his.

He wasn’t really ready to think about what that meant just yet.

Next Chapter

#Soudam #Soda kazuichi #gundham tanaka #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #fic #Soda/Gundham #Fellas is it gay to tenderly cradle your bro's hands while you let him hold a hamster than means more to you than your own life?#Fic Aid #My writing

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morningfears · 4 years

Text

Back Home

Rating: PG-13 (Blink and you’ll miss it homophobia, some swearing)

Summary: Calum and Elizabeth are going to Hangout with Michael and Crystal in Gulf Shores, Alabama. However, they’ve decided to make a stop in Elizabeth’s hometown, first. Calum gets to see firsthand what growing up in the middle of nowhere was like and, while he’s at it, ask her parents for her hand in marriage.

Word Count: 7k

Calum watched as sunlight filtered through the thick growth of trees lining the road and into the car, illuminating Elizabeth’s face as they drove along a seemingly deserted back road in some tiny Alabama town he didn’t remember the name of. Her eyes, a beautiful green that he hoped their children would someday inherit, were hidden beneath a pair of sunglasses she’d stolen from him but he could clearly see how she was feeling from the smile on her lips and the way that she relaxed in the driver’s seat.

They were on their way to her parents’ house, located in an even tinier Alabama town, where they planned to spend a few days before joining Michael and Crystal in Gulf Shores for the Hangout Festival. It was a new experience for him, he’d never been to either her hometown or Hangout, but he found himself looking forward to it. He found himself looking forward to the blistering heat (“It’s actually not that bad yet,” she’d told him as they packed their bags, “it’s only hit ninety once this week.”) and the solitude she’d described when telling him about growing up in the middle of the woods. But his excitement was nothing compared to hers.

Elizabeth had always been vocal about her dislike of southern politics, southern hypocrisy, southern weather (“It can’t make up it’s damn mind! One day, it’s eighty degrees and sunshine. The next, it’s thirty and you’ve got snow flurries. But maybe that’s just April,” she’d once said, and Calum had never forgotten it), and her own accent - one that Calum could hear but just barely - but he knew she missed certain things. She missed the food - her mother’s, specifically - and some of the people. She missed being able to smile at someone as she walked down the sidewalk and not get a funny look in return. She missed manners, being expected to say hello and ask how someone was doing when she walked into a shop, and not getting a dirty look if she called someone over the age of thirty ma’am.

But, more than anything, she missed her family.

Though Calum and Elizabeth had been together for nearly three years, he’d only met her parents once. It was at her college graduation, less than a year into their relationship, and the meeting was fine. Her parents, while polite, didn’t exactly love him right off the bat. They hadn’t cared how well the band was doing, that he’d made a career out of music and that it was going well, nor did they care about how much he already loved their daughter. He was different, a musician that didn’t look anything like the sweet southern boy her mother had always imagined she’d marry, and that was enough for them to write him off as a novelty.

They imagined that Elizabeth would grow tired of Calum after a while, that she’d get tired of the long, lonely nights while he was away on tour, and that she would begin to see things from their point of view. They imagined that she would tire of California, that her southern roots were planted just deep enough, and that she would tire of Calum and return home to them. But, so far, she hadn’t.

And Calum desperately hoped that she never would.

While her parents had accepted her desire to stay in California and to keep Calum in her life - her mother even liked him, enough to bake him a loaf of bread that apparently no one else in her family liked - there was a bit of a rift. Calum’s parents traveled to see him every so often (and he packed up to see them when he could) but Elizabeth’s parents didn’t like to travel. She told him once that her mother was so afraid of flying that even a Xanax couldn’t calm her enough to get on a flight and that she was such an awful car passenger that a twenty-nine hour drive, even. with regular stops, might actually kill her. They’d only been to California once, to see her graduate, and that had been such an ordeal that Elizabeth never asked again.

Her schedule, while freer now that she’d finished school, was less flexible than his own. She had work, a job that required her to stay in Los Angeles most of the time, and that made going home (as well as joining him on tour) next to impossible. She went home for big holidays, Christmas and Thanksgiving, but even that was starting to become difficult as she and Calum began to intertwine their lives.

She hadn’t been home since November - they’d spent Christmas with his family in Australia - and was beyond homesick. Most of the meals she made were recipes her mother talked her through over FaceTime so when Michael and Crystal asked him if they would want to join them for a week in Gulf Shores, Calum jumped at the opportunity to surprise his homesick girlfriend. He worked with her boss - a lovely woman from, coincidentally, Georgia, who had become more like a mentor than a boss - to get her a week of vacation. He called her mom and asked her if it would be alright for them to stay for a weekend before they headed to the beach (of course, she was so excited that she cried and Calum didn’t quite understand half of her words through her accent but he felt the love). And he managed to keep their final destination a secret until they landed in Mobile.

Just before they landed in Mobile, when the pilot announced their destination, the look on Elizabeth’s face was more than enough to make Calum’s year. He took a picture of it, just to remember the look of awe and love she’d given him, before he kissed her and confirmed that they were headed to see her parents. He told her, as they navigated the airport and headed toward the car rental, that they would be spending the weekend with them before heading down to Gulf Shores to spend a few days exploring and experiencing Hangout.

He was certain the smile hadn’t disappeared since.

Although he’d offered to drive, Elizabeth refused to let him behind the wheel. Calum normally drove on their outings - mostly because he was a much calmer driver than her and knew how to handle Los Angeles traffic without having a minor panic attack - but she’d been insistent. The closest airport to her parents’ house was in Mobile and the quickest route took them through a maze of backroads that, according to her and Michael (who had gotten lost on more than one occasion during his trips down south), didn’t appear on either Apple or Google Maps. Elizabeth, however, knew the route like the back of her hand and was comfortable navigating the winding curves and deserted country roads.

“Did you go to Mobile a lot as a kid?” Calum asked, his voice breaking the silence for the first time since they’d left the city limits. He’d been content to just look, to soak it all in, and apparently, so had she. It was like she was recommitting the entire route to memory and he didn’t want to disturb her. However, he was curious and, with her, he never let his questions go unasked.

“Not really,” she hummed, glancing over at him for a moment before returning her gaze to the road beyond the windshield. “It’s almost a three hour drive. It wasn’t a big deal to make the trip but it was more special occasion, you know? We came down here to get dresses for formals and, like, my prom dress. I came with my grandparents some because my paw-paw went to the doctor down here. He took me to Hot Topic for the first time and my mom swears I haven’t been normal since.”

Calum grinned at that, both at the casual use of ‘paw-paw’ (something he knew she hated saying because of the obviousness of it’s origin and the way it seemed to draw out her accent) and the mental image of a pre-teen Elizabeth exploring Hot Topic for the first time. There were pieces of her, bits of her past, that he had never seen. They were never intentionally hidden, it wasn’t as if she locked them away and refused to show them to him, but they were just things that didn’t really come up in the course of their daily lives. Memories of childhood, old habits that had long since been forgotten, seemed to return to her as they drove through the curved roads and he was looking forward to getting know who she was before she moved to LA.

The drive passed far quicker than either imagined it would. Calum watched Elizabeth’s face more often than he watched the scenery pass them by but both were equally captivating. She pointed out certain buildings, little shops or restaurants, that she’d visited as a child. She informed him when they left one town and entered another. She made him promise they could stop by a diner, a little building that looked like it could only fit about five people at a time, on their way back to Gulf Shores (they would make the return trip, the same way they’d just come, and drive through Mobile to get there), as well as made him promise they could stop and get ice cream at a farmer’s market that would apparently ruin his desire to eat any other ice cream ever again.

It was endearing, seeing her so excited for such small things, and Calum decided that he would do whatever she wanted, stop wherever she wanted, just to see the carefree smile she’d been sporting since they stepped out of the airport remain on her lips.

The closer they got to her hometown, the more relaxed she grew in the driver’s seat. She smiled as she pointed out her high school (“It sucked. I hated every moment of it, but it still feels nice seeing the building, you know?”) and the one gas station in her hometown. Calum smiled as he imagined her driving these very roads as a teenager, singing along to All Time Low and wholeheartedly agreeing with the pop punk standard of needing to leave her hometown. He marveled at the lack of traffic lights, at the lack of buildings, and grew more and more astonished the farther they got from her high school. She’d told him she grew up in the middle of nowhere, far away from civilization, but he thought she was joking. However, as he realized that he could count on one hand the number of buildings they’d seen since leaving the city limits of the town closest to her home, he realized that that wasn’t the case at all.

But it was nice, in an odd sort of way. It felt serene, like a quiet place where you could disconnect from the world, and Calum wondered what it was like to grow up here.

“It was miserable,” Elizabeth answered candidly when he asked. “The nearest grocery store is twenty minutes away, if you’re speeding, and they don’t even have half of what you need. It’s just the essentials, really, like milk and bread and stuff. If you wanted anything good, like ice cream or candy or snacks, you’d have to go to Walmart. The closest Walmart, the only place where you can get stuff like dish soap and good shampoo - well, as good as Dove is, I guess - and toothpaste that doesn’t cost six bucks a tube is forty-five minutes away. The nearest hospital is an hour away. Same with the nearest mall, movie theater, bowling alley… The list goes on. There wasn’t much to do here as a kid. You just kind of exist, you know? I played outside al to as a kid. Shocking, I know,” she added, grinning in Calum’s direction as she caught the surprised look on his face.

He couldn’t imagine Elizabeth, the girl who hated her hands being dirty more than anything else, playing outside in the southern heat. He almost asked what her neighbors were like, what the other kids in her neighborhood were like, when she added, “I didn’t have neighbors so I just kind of had to entertain myself. It was lonely and boring.”

Calum watched as she focused on a turn she was making, down a road just off the main highway, and he imagined that they were getting closer to her parents’ house. “Do you miss anything about it?” he asked, his voice soft as he watched her bring one hand up to play with the butterfly pendant laying against her skin. “Other than your family and the dogs, of course.”

“Of course,” she laughed as she glanced at him and smiled. She paused for a moment, as if to think about it, before she shrugged. “Not really,” she hummed as she returned her gaze to the road ahead. “I mean, I miss the food but if I really want it, I can make most things myself. The only thing I haven’t mastered yet is collards and I think that’s just because I can’t get good ones in LA. I miss the quiet sometimes, mostly when I’m trying to sleep, and being able to see the stars but I love living in an actual city with things to do and places to go. Yeah, some stores are still twenty minutes from our house but if I really need something, I can get it from somewhere else. And, I mean, I love the diversity of the city. I didn’t know anything about other cultures, about other people, when I moved to LA and it’s been amazing to see it all and to see how open everyone is to new things. I mean, yeah, I hate some things about LA and it’s a different world for me, for sure, but, at the end of the day, it’s home now.”

Calum nodded his understanding at that. He realized that she loved being surrounded by options. She loved having the ability to get in the car and go get coffee or just go to Target if she felt like it and her hometown wasn’t exactly the most stimulating place he’d ever found himself. Everything looked as if it had seen better days, decades ago, and he didn’t begrudge her not wanting to return for good. However, he was glad that he was getting the opportunity to at least spend a weekend in the middle of nowhere with her and that joy was only magnified as they approached a small dirt road that he quickly realized housed her parents’ home.

“Am I going to get to hear your southern accent?” he asked, an excited lilt to his voice as they drove down a tree lined dirt road, careful not to hit the rocks and tree limbs that cluttered it. “It’s so faint now,” he reminded her. She, like him, had adapted to Los Angeles and he accent had faded. It was still there, more so than his own, but it only truly appeared when she was angry or excited or exceptionally tired and unable to control her speech pattern. It was faint and Calum missed it. He thought it was cute, he liked the way it sounded when she said his name, but he knew it had been a source of annoyance for her when she first arrived in the city. He also knew that she herself wasn’t very fond of it so she didn’t lament its loss at all.

“Probably. At least, it’ll be thicker here than it is in LA,” she confirmed with a sigh, not at all pleased by the thought. “I try not to control my voice so much around my family. I just talk, I guess. But I still don’t get why you like it so much. It’s gross. And, besides, you’ll get tired of the southern twang real quick with my family. I’ll provide translation services if necessary.”

Calum laughed at the deadpan comment and nodded his appreciation. She knew how much trouble he had understanding her mother sometimes (usually when she was angry and ranting during a phone call) and had warned him that the rest of her family - with the exception of her brother - was worse. The accents grew thicker and thicker, harder and harder to understand, and she herself sometimes found it difficult to navigate a conversation. But Calum was looking forward to seeing her at ease among members of her family and grew excited as he spotted a comfortable white house looming in the distance.

“Here we are,” she informed him with a smile, her cheeks round and pink (from the heat or excitement, he couldn’t tell) and her teeth on display, as she caught sight of the cars parked out front. “Holy shit, everyone is here.”

Everyone seemed to be an understatement. There were several cars, all parked in front of her parents’ home, and Calum couldn’t even begin to guess who had appeared to greet her. Her mother had told him that her brother, his wife, and their children would be there to greet them. He also imagined that her nana would be there. However, he couldn’t fathom who else her mother could have invited. But, as Elizabeth put the car in park, a horde of teenagers, all in their mid to late teens, rushed out of the front door, down the steps, and swarmed the car.

“Lizzie, you’re home,” one girl with blonde hair and braces cheered as Elizabeth climbed out of the car. Though she looked to be about sixteen, she stood several inches taller than Elizabeth and dwarfed her as she pulled her into a hug. “I missed you! I have so much to tell you. I got a car! I can drive now. And a boyfriend! You went to high school with his brother, Austin.”

“Let her go, May,” another of the girls, this one shorter than Elizabeth and decidedly the oldest of the group, urged as she shoved her arms between the pair, “I want to hug her.” She wrapped her arms around Elizabeth’s waist and pouted up at her as she said, “Lizzie, I start college in August. I’m going to LSU and I don’t know what to do. Help me!”

“She’s my aunt!” A high pitched voice squeaked as a short girl with glasses and braces that bore a clear family resemblance to Elizabeth shoved through the others. “Aunt Lizzie!”

“Hey, guys,” she laughed, clearly overwhelmed by the affection as she struggled to fully climb out of the car. “It’s good to see you all, too. What are y’all doing here?”

“We waited to have maw maw’s birthday party today so we could celebrate that, you being home, and me graduating high school all at once. Oh my god, is that a boy? Lizzie has a boyfriend!” the second girl, whose name Calum still didn’t know, yelled as she caught sight of him climbing out of the car. He offered her a smile, amused by the apparent novelty of Elizabeth bringing someone home, and waved at her before he reached back into the car to grab his bag. “Lizzie’s never brought anyone home before,” she told Calum as he walked around the car to stand at Elizabeth’s side. “We thought she was a lesbian but just didn’t want to tell us.”

“Oh my god, Haley,” Elizabeth groaned as she reached out and nudged the shorter girl away from her. “Go away. All of you, go inside. I’ll be there in a second.” When the girls turned and began running back toward the house, Elizabeth groaned and turned to bury her face in the crook of Calum’s neck. “Jesus, fuck. This is why I never brought anyone home,” she deadpanned as she glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m going to go ahead and apologize for everything that’s about to happen.”

Calum, who was struggling to hold back his laughter, shook his head at her statement. “Don’t worry about it,” he assured her with a smile as he leaned in to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Family can be embarrassing but, at the end of the day, they love you and want to see you happy.” He paused for a moment, thinking about the comment the girl had made, before he asked, “Before we go in, they don’t know you’re bi, do they?”

“No,” she sighed as she removed herself from his grasp and opened the back door to grab her own bag from the seat. “They… I don’t know. I can’t tell them and, I mean, right now, it doesn’t matter. But, no. There are a lot of things they don’t know about me. I didn’t realize you’d be thrown to the wolves on the very first night so I’m going to apologize again for anything they say that’s offensive. I’ve tried so many times to educate them but it’s so tiring when they don’t want to learn, you know? My mom tries, sometimes, but it’s easier to just pretend for a few days than keep pounding my head against a brick wall.”

Calum wasn’t sure what he could say to that statement and he knew that, sometimes, all she needed was a hand to hold. So, instead of putting his foot in his mouth, he gripped her hand in his and brought it to his mouth to place a gentle kiss against the back. When she shot him a halfhearted smile, he squeezed it a little tighter and said, “Lead the way, love.”

Though Calum had been overwhelmed by the barrage of teenage girls that bombarded the car, they were nothing compared to the barrage of adults that swarmed them as they entered the house. He held Elizabeth’s bag and watched as, one by one, adult after adult wrapped Elizabeth in hugs and shouted variations of, “Lizzie Belle!” He stood off to the side, a small smile on his face, as he watched them tell her how proud they were of her for finding a life in Los Angeles or how beautiful she looked. It was sweet, an onslaught of love, but he imagined that she was incredibly uncomfortable with the outpouring of compliments as she thanked everyone. She didn’t like to be the center of attention, not when there were so many sets of eyes on her, but he could tell that she was glad to be at home as she hugged her nana and held on tight.

“Here, let me help you with that,” a voice called over the din of the living room and Calum glanced over to meet the eyes of a man he recognized as her older brother. The family resemblance wasn’t very strong - likely due to their different fathers - but he could see bits and pieces of Elizabeth in him. They had the same dark, wavy hair (though her brothers had started graying) and kind smile but that was where the similarity ended. Her brother, slightly taller than Calum and significantly bigger, looked as if he spent a good deal of his time outdoors and was covered with tattoos.

“Thanks,” Calum said as he handed the bag to Elizabeth’s brother and followed him through the small path he’d carved behind the crowd of relatives. “Calum,” he introduced, holding his hand out as they entered a long hallway, “nice to meet you.”

“Josh,” he returned as he shook Calum’s hand before gesturing to a room with a closed door, “this is Lizzie’s room. Y’all’ll be in here.” Josh dropped the bag onto Elizabeth’s bed and Calum followed suit before he paused to glance around the room.

The room was exactly what he’d imagined it would be. The curtains were black and red with a light blocking curtain behind them. The queen sized bed was tall, so tall that Elizabeth needed a step-stool to climb onto it, and covered with a black duvet with white polka dots and nearly a million pillows at the head. Posters covered every inch of the walls and Calum spotted All Time Low, Green Day, and even a few One Direction posters thrown into the mix. A bookshelf rested in one corner and was filled to the brim with books, CDs, DVDs, and old trinkets. He spotted a stack of yearbooks on the top shelf and decided that his night was going to spent combing through her memories.

As Calum lost himself in exploring her bedroom, he didn’t realize that a small velvet box had fallen out of his bag. He’d tucked it into the pocket for safety but it jostled loose when he tossed the bag onto the bed and hit the floor with a thud. As he ran his fingers along the CDs littering her bookshelf, stopping and grinning when he came across their self-titled album - something he was absolutely going to tease Elizabeth about having later - Josh bent down to pick it up.

“You know, Lizzie’s never really been a jewelry person but, from the way she talks about you, I can see her being alright with wearing this.”

Calum turned, surprised as he had forgotten that Josh was still in the room, and blinked as he stared at the box in his hand. He didn’t know what to say. He’d been planning on asking her parents for permission, something he knew she thought was old-fashioned but a sweet gesture, and was mildly terrified of the response he was going to get. However, as Josh smiled at him and held the box out to him, Calum felt a small bit of ease wash over him.

“You think?” he asked as he shoved the box back into his bag and ensured that it wouldn’t fall out again. “I don’t - I know we’ve just met but I…” He paused, unsure of what he should say to him, before he simply stated, “I really love her.”

“I figured,” he nodded as he took a seat on the edge of her bed and jerked his head in the direction of the living room. “Anyone willing to put up with all this has to be in love. Momma said you were the one who called and asked if y’all could come down,” Josh said as he glanced toward the door of the room. “Lizzie doesn’t get to come home much so it meant a lot that you called and set this up for her. Momma’s hard to get through to sometimes. She doesn’t think anyone’s good enough for her kids, especially when they keep them so far away from home, but that made her happy. That gave her a reason to like you. I don’t think they’ll say no, if that’s what you’re after. But, you do know that Lizzie won’t care what they say, right?”

Calum was floored to hear Josh speak so candidly about their mother. Elizabeth was never so open about it. She rarely spoke about the bad with her family - only when she really needed to convey the importance of something - but he knew that there was a tension that he would need to overcome where her family was concerned. He was more of afraid of their denial than hers but to hear Josh predict that they would approve made his heartbeat calm and the tension in his shoulders ease.

“I know,” he laughed as he imagined Elizabeth raging against a denial from her parents. She was an adult, she was free to do as she pleased, and if she wanted to marry Calum, she would. However, having that approval was more of a symbolic gesture that Calum hoped would extend an olive branch to her parents and assure them that he wasn’t trying to steal their daughter or keep her from seeing them. He opened his mouth to thank Josh when footsteps interrupted him.

He glanced up to see Elizabeth step into the room with a small child in her arms, no older than two, and Calum felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. “There you are,” she hummed as she glanced at Calum and gave him a smile before she turned her attention to her brother. “Dad’s looking for you. They’re getting the crawfish ready to put out. They need some more hands.”

“Alright,” he sighed as he stood from the bed and clapped Calum on the shoulder. “Nice meeting you, man. We’ll have a beer later, talk some more. Lizzie says you’re in a band. I wanna know about your music,” he said before he leaned in and wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s waist and pressed a kiss to the baby’s head. “Hey, girl. Good to see you. Don’t drop my child, please.”

“Like I would,” Elizabeth huffed as she nudged her brother away from her. “You literally threw me across a room as a baby. I’m clearly not the one anyone needs to be concerned about. Isn’t that right, Sawyer?” The baby in her arms cooed, grinning up at her, and Josh rolled his eyes as he let go.

“Keep bringing up the past, damn. Can’t let anyone make any mistakes around here,” he grumbled playfully as he left the room and left Calum, Elizabeth, and Sawyer alone.

“Sorry for letting him steal you,” she apologized as she stepped closer to him and smiled when he reached out to offer the baby his finger. “I try desperately hard to keep anyone I like away from him. When I was twelve, he called out this guy I had a crush on on Facebook and the guy never spoke to me again. He was, uh, a little… overprotective?” She paused, glancing down at the baby in her arms, before she cooed at her. “You’re gonna have such tough time dating, honey. He’s gonna give your dates the ultimate interrogation and it’s not going to end well for anyone involved.”

Calum laughed as Elizabeth pouted at the baby and felt his heart melt as he watched them interact. He’d been thinking a lot lately, about children and marriage and the future, and every image of the future he got, Elizabeth was in it. He wanted her to be the one walking down the aisle to meet him. He wanted her to be the one to carry his children. He wanted her to be the one he grew old with. He wanted her, then and forever, and it made his heart ache in the best way to see her look so happy holding a small child.

“You look beautiful like that,” Calum breathed before he could stop himself. When Elizabeth rolled her eyes, brushing him off with a comment about how much she’d been sweating from the sweltering heat, he shook his head. “You always look beautiful but you look even more so holding the baby,” he elaborated, smiling as she glanced down at the giggling girl in her arms. “It looks natural.”

“It’s taken us a few times to get this right,” she hummed as she tickled Sawyer and grinned at her. “She threw up on me the first few times I held her. But we’re good now, right, honey?” When Sawyer cooed at her, reaching out to tug at her hair, Elizabeth smiled and glanced at Calum. When she met his amused glance, she grinned and shook her head. “I know what you meant, bub. It’s nice. I’ve thought about it and I want it - children, a family - with you. I’m sure there are other things we need to work on before that but I want that.”

“I do, too,” Calum confirmed with a grin as he leaned over to press a soft kiss to her cheek. When the baby slapped at his chest, he laughed and pulled away from Elizabeth with a grin, “But maybe now isn’t the best time to talk about our family plans, huh?”

“Nope,” she agreed with a smile, “not when there’s a cranky little lady that needs her mom and two adults that need beer and crawfish.”

Calum quickly found himself in the backyard, passed around by relatives as Elizabeth introduced him to each one. Her mother, who had been finishing frosting a red velvet cake, grinned when she spotted him and nudged an uncle that Calum had already forgotten the name of out of the way. He was almost surprised at the hug he received, the affection was a little startling, but he decided not to question it as Elizabeth’s mother wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.

“Thank you,” she said as the others around them dispersed to give them a moment to talk. “My Belle doesn’t get to come home much and she’s always so worried about taking off so I’m so glad you convinced her to come home for a little bit. I’ve missed my baby. And it’s good to see you again. I haven’t seen you in nearly two years. I miss your hair,” she laughed as she pointed out the buzz cut he’d gotten recently.

“Lizzie does, too,” he laughed as he rubbed a hand over the bleached hair on top of his head. “She liked playing with it while we were watching TV,” he added quickly, afraid of how the first part of his sentence sounded. “I’m glad that everyone was able to come. She’s missed everyone.”

“She has,” her mom nodded as she glanced around the backyard and smiled as she caught sight of Elizabeth sitting with the girls and chatting animatedly about whatever topic they’d gotten started on. “Everyone’s missed her. It’s not the same without her here but she’s happy in LA. You make her happy. I’m glad that y’all have each other,” her mother told him with a smile and Calum breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the sincerity in her tone. He was afraid that Josh had misread the situation, that he wasn’t nearly as favored as he imagined he was, but to hear her say that eased the nerves he felt in the pit of his stomach. However, they quickly returned as she turned to face him and said, “Josh said you had something you wanted to ask us?”

Calum blinked, surprised he was being put on the spot so quickly, and nodded slowly. “I, uh, yeah. But it can wait. It’s fine.”

Her mother smiled at him and Calum could see the understanding on her face. “If it’s what I think you want to ask, I’d prefer you didn’t. The answer is yes, by the way, from both of us. But we still want to hear your proposal.”

Calum laughed as he found himself being dragged into the house by Elizabeth’s parents. Her brother and grandmother — whose opinion really, truly mattered — followed them into the laundry room (the only room that seemed to be empty) and listened carefully as Calum asked for permission and detailed the proposal he had planned in Gulf Shores.

The rest of the weekend seemed to pass in a blur. Elizabeth taught Calum how to eat crawfish - her brother showed him how to suck the head, though he didn’t imagine he would be giving that a try - and her maw maw taught him how to shell butterbeans and peas as they sat in the shade of a pecan tree and worked on seven five-gallon buckets of peas and beans. They took him to a fish camp, an old cabin-like building in the middle of nowhere that made the best friend fish he’d ever had, and showed him the river where they went tubing when Elizabeth and Josh were young. And on their last night, he and Elizabeth sat on her parent’s front porch with a bucket of peas a piece and watched as the dusty afternoon turned to night.

“I’m really glad you did this,” she hummed as she glanced away from the bucket in front of her and over at Calum. “I never thought I’d say this but maybe all I needed was to come home and shell peas for a few days.”

Calum, whose fingers were sore and stained from the hulls, couldn’t imagine having spent every summer in this fashion but it was a nice glimpse into her world and he agreed. It had been restful, something of a recharge, and he found himself grateful for the experience. “It’s been nice,” Calum agreed with a smile as he watched her work for a moment. “It’s been good to see you in your element. I know that this isn’t your life anymore but it was nice to see where you come from.”

“I’m glad it didn’t send you running for the hills,” she teased as she tossed a hull into the bucket and shook her head. “You know, if you’d told me as a kid that I would move to LA, I wouldn’t have believed you. But if you’d have said that I’d move to LA, find someone as amazing as you, fall in love, and then bring you home someday to show you what my life was like before? I would’ve called you insane. But it felt right. Letting you in, letting you see this part of my life. It felt… it felt like it was time, you know?”

Calum reached out to squeeze Elizabeth’s hand but said nothing as they continued to shell their peas. If he’d spoken, he would’ve poured his heart out to her. He would’ve confessed just how much he loved her, just how much she meant to him, and would’ve ended up proposing on her parents’ front porch. Instead, he let his touch convey everything he wanted to say and hoped that would last them until they made it to the beach.

Saying goodbye was a rough affair. Elizabeth’s mother and nana cried. Her father held onto her for so long that her mother had to pull them apart. They all made her promise to visit again soon and sent them on their way with enough food to feed an army. Elizabeth let Calum drive on the return trip and watched as he navigated the streets she regarded with a fondness that she never imagined she would feel. She felt bittersweet, glad to have gone home but sad to be leaving, and hoped that the festival would cheer her mood.

However, what she was met with was something far greater than she expected.

As they arrived at the beach house she, Calum, Michael, and Crystal would share for the weekend, she was under the impression that they’d arrived before Michael and Crystal. However, as they entered the house to find it decorated with photos from her and Calum’s relationship as well as flowers, she realized that she was wrong. They’d been in, long enough to help Calum set up his surprise, and were waiting somewhere in the city for Calum to make his move. It didn’t click, not at first, what the point of the set up was. But as she dropped her bag and began to look at each of the photos, it soon dawned on her.

“Calum,” she began, her voice quiet as she turned to him, only to see him on one knee behind her. “Oh, fuck.”

At her exclamation, Calum laughed and held his hand out for her to grab. “Come here,” he laughed, smiling as she stepped closer to him and allowed him to hold her hand in his. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while and even spending a weekend shelling peas can’t deter me,” Calum teased as he glanced up at her. Her hand rested over her mouth, her fingers shaking as she watched him open the small velvet box to reveal a beautiful ring. “I love you, so much. Whenever I imagine the future, I imagine you in it. I want it all with you. I want to have a family with you, I want to grow old with you. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life by your side. I love you, Lizzie. Will you marry me?”

Elizabeth, though she imagined the proposal was coming, couldn’t speak. Instead, she nodded her agreement and kneeled onto the floor to wrap her arms around Calum’s neck. He laughed, relief and joy bubbling in his chest, as he wrapped his own arms around her waist and held her tight against his chest. He held her there for a moment, relishing in the moment, before he pulled away just enough to press a kiss to her lips. “I love you,” he breathed against them, his eyes shining with joy as he moved to place the ring on her finger, “I can’t wait for forever with you.”

“Forever isn’t long enough when I’m with you, Hood,” she quipped, her smile bright and her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she pressed her lips to his once more. “I love you, Cal. Thank you for being the most amazing man and for loving me the way you do.”

Calum knew that the future was rapidly approaching. He knew that, no matter how far away it seemed, everything would change in the blink of an eye. But with Elizabeth by his side, with her hand in his, he imagined that he could tackle whatever the universe threw at him.

And as they sat on the back patio, curled up together on a lounge chair and looking out at the water with Michael and Crystal to their left and the sound of pre-Hangout revelry to their right, Calum couldn’t think of any other place he’d rather be.

____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: This is literally just seven thousand words of self-indulgent bullshit. I don’t know. I felt it and I’ve wanted to do this for a while. It wouldn’t leave me alone so I spent my day alternating between this and Rose Tattoo. Also, with tag lists I lowkey feel like I’m annoying people if I tag them (which is the point, I know) but tell me if you don’t want to be tagged in everything. Anyway. I need to write something for Ash now. I’m, like, in an Ash mood.

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added! If you don’t want to be tagged in everything, just let me know): @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijutreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle , @p0laroidpictures , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss , @blueviiolence , @loveroflrh , @empathycth , @luckyduckydoo , @tobefalling , @bandsandbooksaremykink , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985 , @wokeupinaustralia , @lucidlrh , @canterburyfiction , @cal-is-not-on-branding , @jaacknaano , @findingliam-o , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1 , @sammyrenae68 , @flowerthug ,

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rocket-remmy · 4 years

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A Battery Of Guilt, On Which To Poise|| Morgan and Remmy

TIMING: Last Night PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: The floor sure is nice this time of day. CONTENT: Depression, Mentions of past abuse, Homophobia mentions, Self Harm

It was strange having Remmy over at the house again, almost as strange as not being able to patch the seams in her old sweats with a touch of her hand. Almost. Morgan paced the house, waiting for them to show up, stretching her muscles restlessly like she’d seen Lara Croft do in the movies. She still found herself scanning the road outside the house, the shadowy corners of the trees in the yard when she let Anya out to hunt. Someone might be there, waiting for her, watching her. Then again, it hadn’t even been a week. Maybe that was supposed to be normal for a fresh steaming slice of trauma. But hadn’t she had enough? Hey, Universe, I’ve had enough! She thought, sending out each word as clearly as if it were a configuration for a mental spell. You tapped me out of life, so maybe let me tap out of the bullshit! She deflated with relief when she saw Remmy loping up the driveway. She felt like an idiot for having worried about them getting tired before. Things were still weird and stiff between them, but it was better to have them around than to be stuck with only her thoughts for company.

Remmy could still remember the underwhelming response they’d received when they’d first told people hunters were after them. The only one with the appropriate response had been Lydia. She’d been scared for them, offered them shelter, a place to hide-- everyone else? Oh, no, Remmy! That’s bad! Are you okay? Can I do anything? Or, in Deirdre’s case, Just kill them. Two responses Remmy hated. And now, Morgan understood. They’d’ve been lying had they said they didn’t feel just a hint of an “I told you so” on their tongue. But they’d hold it, because they didn’t want to fight anymore, even if they still held that anger close to their chest. The walk to Morgan’s was fast, time slipping by like it didn’t need to bother to exist anymore, since it didn’t matter to them. Lately, nothing had mattered to them. They approached the door, and knocked, shifting from foot to foot as they waited for Morgan to answer the door, hands in pockets of torn and unwashed jeans.

Morgan swung open the door on the first knock, trusting Remmy to come in and lock the door behind them on their own. They’d been by enough times before. “Thanks for coming,” she said. “I know you said whenever, but I appreciate it.” She lead them down the hall to the workout room, where she had already laid mats down around the punching bag. Her eyes drifted upward to the attic, where she knew the weapons hung in all kind of strange, menacing displays. It had given her chills before, the violence and the reverence of Deirdre’s work tangled up together. Remmy probably wouldn’t want to know about that yet, better to make this as uncomplicated as possible. “Have you ever--you mentioned a crossbow guy, and that hunter you asked once. Have you ever had to fight one of these assholes before?”

Closing the door and locking it-- a practice they were familiar with by now-- Remmy followed Morgan through the house. They’d been here so many times before, but somehow this time felt different. Everything just felt different. Even after their talk with Deirdre, things still didn’t feel quite right. “Is Deirdre home?” they asked as they walked, heading into the basement. When they made it to the room, Remmy paused, standing in the doorway. What did Deirdre need a room like this for? They supposed it didn’t matter, though, did it. Very little did, after all. “Yeah, I have. I mostly just run, though,” they said with a shrug, “unless someone is with me. I don’t wanna fight these guys just to fight them, but I will to protect someone.”

“Oh. She’s at work, but she’ll be home in a couple hours.” Morgan shrugged, a hint of a sour pout. She was relieved, for Remmy and Deirdre both, that they had each other. Remmy wasn’t talking much to their other friends, apparently, and she sometimes wondered who Deirdre had at all, besides Lydia. But a little small talk with Remmy wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world. Like they were maybe trying to be friends with her too. But maybe there wasn’t much of a point today. Every time she thought she’d buried the memory of that day in the woods nice and good, it came back up with a bitter sting. And of course, she couldn’t think of fighting back without thinking about it. “You’d just let them go and hurt someone else?” She asked, tying back her hair. “Treat you like you’re...less than an animal? You know they don’t have any right to treat you that way, right? Any of us. We might be dead but...fuck…” She grimaced, walking to the middle of the room, letting out the air she’d been holding in her chest for no reason. “I’m not you-mad, just...mad.”

Remmy gave as much of a glare as a one-eyed, depressed, unkempt zombie could give as Morgan went on. They didn’t move for a moment, watching her closely as she made her way to the middle of the room. “I already told you, I already told everyone,” they said, a little dour, “I’m not killing anyone. Ever. Again.” Spoke precisely, letting the words sit in the air a bit. “Hunter or not. I’m not doing it.” They finally pulled their hands out of their pockets, rolled up their sleeves in preparation. “You’re allowed to be mad, though. You should be mad, it’ll help when you need to fight back.” They looked over at Morgan finally, adjusting their eye patch. “Okay, come at me again. I wanna see what you’ve got.”

Morgan set her jaw, grimacing. When she was alive she had appreciated, in principle, that Remmy didn’t want to go back to the person they were in the military, even if running away when you knew how to do something else seemed just shy of incomprehensible. But now that she had been on the other end of that fight, when she had feared the dark coming for her again, she couldn’t imagine laying down and taking it. Even rabbits fought against the foxes. How could you not try, if you knew how? And knowing how cruel hunters could be, how human and yet so cruel--how could you not want to make them pay? They should know better. They were people. They were supposed to know better. She swallowed her thoughts down, mumbling, “Fine,” and came up to Remmy. She struck the stance they had taught her and started swinging.

Remmy knew Morgan didn’t like their answer, but the world had already taken everything else from them-- they would not let it take this. Even if it meant their supposed friends thought less of them. It wasn’t as if the ones they had left had high opinions anyway. So Remmy set themself in a stance, and waited for Morgan to throw the first punch. She was sloppy, and Remmy couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she didn’t know how to fight or if it was because she was in a stubborn mood right now. So, they decide to give something new a shot. They batted Morgan’s hand away, stepping out of the way of her easily predicted punches. They weren’t a great fighter by any means, but they were good enough to get by, and being in the Ring had certainly helped a lot, too. They batted her hand away again, this time taking the extra effort to reach and flick her cheek before moving out of the way. “What? Can’t hit me?”

Morgan huffed, rolling her eyes at her friend. They were goading her on purpose, but she was too frustrated not to fall for it. At least this was simple. Catch Remmy and give them at least one good pummel to prove that she could. She swung again, tensing up. Swung again as they evaded her. She shifted on her feet, swift now that she was caught up in the moment, and clocked their collarbone hard enough to dent it. She smirked, brow quirked with self satisfaction and aimed a kick to their knee, just to shake things up.

If Remmy had been a normal person, the punch would have stumbled them. But as it were, they were still a zombie, and even as their chest dented, they only wavered a moment. Morgan went for a sweep of the knee, but she was too off-balance, too widespread, and Remmy caught her leg with their arm, gripping it tightly before flipping her off her remaining foot and dumping her onto the floor. “You’re too off balance,” they said finally, looking down at her. They didn’t offer to help her back up. “You have to make sure your center of balance is always forward, otherwise that happens,” they instructed, pointing at her. Remembering all the times their lieutenant had done the same to them. A swipe of the foot, a twist of the arm. Faces planted in dirt. Get up, he’d say, try again. Until the bruises were the only things showing.

Morgan went to the floor with a yelp. She grunted again, scrambling to her feet to show just how not hurt and not bothered she was. “Okay, fine,” she said, “How do I do that? And what do I do if you--if someone comes up behind me? I was knocked on my ass in less than a second. And--” She sighed, trying to remind herself that this was all just new, that she was just learning. “--How the heck do I figure out what my center of gravity is?” She asked, feeling more like an idiot than anything else.

Remmy sighed. They stood up, then, relaxing. “Let’s...start with one thing at a time,” they said, coming over to her. Somehow, she looked just as tired as they felt, and it didn’t go over Remmy’s head that neither of them actually could get tired. “Did you ever um-- get the stuff from Felix?” they asked, not looking at her as they adjusted her stance, tapping her toes so they pointed outward, pressing her arms closer to her body to protect the heart-- well, neck, now-- lifting them a little higher than normal. “Okay, I’m gonna push on your shoulder, don’t let me push you over but stay in that position, got it?”

“I talked to him, yeah,” Morgan replied. “I’ll be getting stuff soon. Just, you know, have to wait for supplies. Zombie meds don’t grow on trees, yaknow? But soon. Really ready for better to kick-in, to have some kind of consistency. I know you can’t actually wake up on the wrong side of whatever when you don’t sleep, but I hate when the switch happens. I hate that I can go from almost fine to being a mess with just thinking something wrong. That’s not just me, right?” She took in a breath and exhaled. There was nothing inside her to regulate, but the association soothed her. She could calm her head. She nodded for Remmy to do their worst. They pushed; she pushed back, holding still, digging her weight into the earth. She brought her gaze up to Remmy’s, narrowed with determination.

“No,” Remmy said quietly after they listened to her, “it’s not just you.” In truth, Remmy hadn’t felt the switch in a long time. They’d just been on the downward slope, somehow able to fall further and further, slipping under the surface and drowning in the anger they couldn’t seem to get rid of. They longed for the switch, to feel even the slightest bit okay-- but how true could that be, when they knowingly neglected their own stash of zombie xanax? “If you want some now, I have some,” they said, as they pushed on her shoulder, trying to throw her off balance. Morgan stayed put. That was good. “Feel that?” they said, pushing her a little harder, and though she stumbled slightly, she did not falter. “That’s your center of balance.”

“You do?” Morgan was so startled she stumbled out of her stance. “Are you sure? He told me they’re kinda, you know, pricey. Not the easiest ingredients to wrangle.” But she wanted some, yes. Stigma or not, this was a level of shity her therapy skills weren’t equipped to deal with on their own. She was tired. It was the stupidest thing in the world with her so-called endless energy, but she was so tired in her mind. She felt numb for holding on so long sometimes. There were moments where she could get some feeling going up again, where she could will herself to be a little less unglued, but she always slipped back again, and there was so much of her she still had to control, to manage. How to feel. How to touch. How to sleep without sleeping. What to do about her breathing. “I can cover the cost, at least. Deirdre kind of pays for everything at this point, so I’m doing okay with savings. Can I do that at least?” She centered herself up again, ready to go, but her arms were only half-raised, more focused on her friend.

“Yeah, um--” Remmy started, “I’ve got extra.” That was a blatant lie, but they weren’t going to let Morgan know that. She was already mad enough, they’d already lost enough between them, they didn’t need to lose what little ground they’d recovered. “I don’t...I don’t need money. You don’t have to pay me,” they said quietly. “Just...if you really want to, we can figure something else out, but I don’t need money.” They watched her center herself again, standing up and looking at her, making sure her feet were pointed in the right directions, before pushing on her shoulders again. “Good, balanced. See?” they backed up again. They didn’t want to talk anymore. “Try again.”

“Extra?” Morgan asked incredulously. “Felix doesn’t strike me as the ‘free extras’ kind of guy. I have to pay you back somehow, even if it’s not cash, okay?” She let Remmy reposition her, test her center with another push. Morgan dug into herself and did not budge. She raised her fists again, ready to continue with the exercise, but she couldn’t bury her concern for her friend. She threw one punch, then another, but it just felt wrong, pushing past something this serious. “Remmy, are you skipping meds?” She asked.

“I mean, he’s a good guy. He was good to me, at least,” Remmy said, ducking and weaving to dodge Morgan’s fists. They blocked a punch or two by grabbing Morgan’s hand and pushing back on her, making sure she was still keeping her center of balance. She didn’t stumble or topple, which meant she was. At least she was listening to their instructions. “I’m not skipping them,” they said, pushing her away. “I’m not taking them. But we’re not talking about this-- I’m not talking about this.”

Morgan drew another breath, in and out. The pause, the concentration, gave her enough of a moment to reset herself and keep hold of that balance. It wasn’t so different from magic, the focus, the balance between holding her emotions honestly in her hand and letting them go through a direct channel. Whatever lines of power that had once lit her up remained dead. No hair rose on her arms, no vein tingled with recognition, but the other parts of her fell into it with a desperation she hadn’t felt until that moment. She threw two more punches, trying to concentrate her energy in her arms. Remmy pushed her away and she righted herself almost at once. “What do you mean you’re not taking them? At all? Remmy, why? You need those! If I need those, you definitely need those! Why are you doing this to yourself!

Remmy looked away. They didn’t-- couldn’t-- look Morgan in the eyes anymore. Why had they stopped taking them? Why had they stopped wearing Nell’s bracelet? Why were they starving themself? “Because I don’t deserve it!” they finally said, shoulders taught, hands clenched into fists as they stood like a brick, firm and unmoving. Like a soldier. “Because I deserve to be punished.” What for? They weren’t entirely sure. But they knew that they couldn’t look at themself in the mirror again anymore. And they knew they couldn’t look at the supplements Felix had gotten for them anymore. And they knew they couldn’t ever bring themself to reach out to their friends. All they knew was that they felt raw and wrong, and the last time they’d felt this way, the only thing that had gotten rid of it was pushing through it at boot camp. Putting it all behind them and moving on. “I thought knowing would help, but it just-- it just sucks.”

“Punished? What do you mean punished, Remmy? Punished for what?” Morgan dropped her guard and paced around to find Remmy’s face, tilting her head so she could at least try to find their eyes. “I know,” she said softly. “I know that knowing what happened doesn’t help.” She’d told them so, even if it had been in a moment of anger. “But none of that means you deserve to be hurt. That’s not how it is. So what gives, Remmy?”

“For all the shit things I did!” Remmy shouted, turning to face away from Morgan as she searched for their eyes. “Because I’m a shit person! I thought-- you know, I thought I could be better, but obviously I can’t. I’m not. I’m the same person I’ve always been-- alone and angry and stupid. And no amount of trying to be better is going to change that. I’m just-- I’m just rotten,” they said, shuddering at the word, remembering all the times they’d heard it. From the man with the angry fist, or from the principal sat slumped behind a desk, or from the pastor staring at them from behind the pew. You must’ve been made wrong. “And this-- being this, it’s my punishment.”

Morgan grabbed Remmy’s arm and yanked hard, trying to spin them around. “No, fuck that! That is bullshit, Remmy, you hear me? That is fucking bullshit!” When they wouldn’t budge she shoved them, putting all her strength into it. “If that’s true, what am I being punished for, huh? What’s thing I did that made me deserve this?” There was nothing. Her curse screwed her out of her life, the rest was just--stars, was it random? Was it just a well intention ed mistake? A last ditch effort? A cursed second chance? She didn’t know, but she sure as hell didn’t ‘deserve’ it for not coming up to scratch. “That’s bullshit thinking, Remmy,” she said. “You’re not special and you’re not rotten, you just got screwed. Can you see that? You’re a good person! You’re good! You’re good and you don’t deserve the shit you’re giving yourself!”

“You’re not being punished! Obviously you’re not! You got the-the girlfriend who cried over you while you died and held you, and you got the support when you woke up, and you have all the friends who mourned you, and you-- you have all those people helping you through this. The only mistake you made was trusting me. I’m the one that decided to bite you, I did this to you,” Remmy shouted, shoving her away again, already feeling hot, angry tears welling in their eye. “I took everything good away from you because that’s-- that’s what I do. I just take the good from everyone. From-- from you, from Darius, from my mom. My friends. Everyone. I just-- I take it and I ruin it. I ruin everything.”

“Remmy--” Morgan deflated. “My curse took everything away from me. Constance took everything from me. She killed me. Fate literally said so. So I don’t know where the hell you’re getting that from. You didn’t make these things happen, any of them. You were screwed over. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. And it wasn’t you.” She gripped their shoulders, squeezing tight. “It’s not you. Fuck that, okay?”

“S-stop it!” Remmy said, pushing Morgan away again. “Stop it! Just-- be mad! Like you were before! Just hate me and be mad! It’s my fault! I should’ve just let you--” die? But they didn’t really believe that, did they? The thought of losing another friend pained them more than death. “It was my fault! I shouldn’t have let you go out, Deirdre said-- and then I-- and then you--” Words falling from their mouth without much thought anymore, hands going out wildly. “It’s always my fault! Always my fault! I just hurt people.” Choking back a sob. “I just hurt people.

Morgan grappled with Remmy, pushing and reaching until she had hold of their wrists. She squeezed them tight in her hands and held them until her muscles shook, hard enough to bruise a human, hard enough to keep Remmy from hurting themself. “You’re a good person!” She snapped, shouting over them “I was cursed and then I got screwed over! It was fate, don’t you get it? I was born fucked and no matter how hard I worked, no matter how many times I suffered, no matter how many times I put my life together again, Constance’s bullshit was always going to take it away! No universe, no sacrifice was ever going to give me my good, Remmy! You didn’t do shit!” She was crying too now, tears trickling down as her throat went hoarse. “You didn’t screw me up,” she said, more firmly this time. “You didn’t do it, Remmy. And I love you. I love you, Remmy.”

“No, don’t-- don’t!” Remmy protested, struggling in Morgan’s grip. But despite being stronger, they couldn’t find the energy to get away from her, beaten down by her grip on their wrists, by the way she was staring into them-- by her words. Remmy felt trapped, shrinking into themself. “I did! I bit you! I made you like this! I made you into a monster just like me! And I shouldn’t have-- he said it was the wrong thing to do, too, and I--” they tried to push her away again, trembling in her grip. In fear. Not of her, but for her. “Everyone I love dies or gets hurt and I-- I’m not worth that. I’m not worth it. So just--” they yanked again and pounded a fist on Morgan’s chest. “Hate me.” They pounded another fist. “Just hate me.” Another, each blow growing weaker. “Hate me--” thud-- “Please!”--thump-- “Just--” thump-- “please…”

Morgan reached down into her core and held herself steady. She staggered back once, twice, but always came back to where she was before as Remmy wailed on her chest. “I still love you, Remmy. Maybe that’s fucked up, but I do. I still love you.” She grappled with them again, working them with each push towards the wall, blocking their fists when she could, but finding that quiet space inside her and holding on tight. Then she had them up against the wall, pinned tight. “I love you. Are you ready to stop now? You can stop. It’s time to stop, Remmy. I love you, so stop.”

Remmy’s back hit the wall and they stopped. Staring wide eyed at Morgan as she spoke, her words not entirely registering. “I’m not worth it, though,” they croaked out, choking on a sob. Suddenly trying to inhale, their lungs begging for steady breath, even though they hadn’t needed it in over a year. Hands digging into Morgan, fingers curling, not pushing her away, but not pulling her close either. Body trembling. “They all get killed or hurt or lost. I can’t-- I’m not--” memories flashing behind their eyes of all the times they were told they weren’t worth it, they’d never be worth it. Friends turning their backs, strung up on flag poles; cadets whispering behind hands about them; privates staring and pointing; lieutenants looking down on them disapprovingly. They couldn’t accept it, even as they saw the stubbornness behind Morgan’s eyes. They couldn’t do it. Their chest felt like it was collapsing. They gasped for air again, clutching their chest. Clutching Morgan’s arm. “It’s not-- I’m not-- I can’t-- I can’t. I don’t know how to stop.”

Morgan stepped close as Remmy began to collapse under their grief. She let them tug on her arm, even loosened her grip so they had room to reach for that air, to reset their body again. She worked her arms around them in as much of a bear hug as her short limbs would allow. “Shut up, you’re worth it,” she said. “You’re worth it, Remmy. You just are.” Gradually, as they shook and cried she lowered them to the ground. She had enough practice with her will giving out over the last month, she knew how to do it without knocking their bones too hard. Easy did it. Sliding carefully to their knees, then sitting, and then they were laying on the mat together, squeezed tight end to end. Morgan pressed her cheek to Remmy’s hair, squeezed them tighter. “You’re worth more than this, Remmy. You’re a person. You’re a whole ass good person and you’re worth more.”

Remmy’s body collapsed under the weight of everything, and they sank slowly to the ground in Morgan’s arms, holding onto her as their lifeline. “But how can I-- when I’m still so-- I’m so angry still,” they pleaded, “I’m so mad all the time and I don’t know how to stop. I-- I’m mad at you and I’m mad at Deirdre and Lydia and Skylar and Blanche and it’s-- I know I shouldn’t be, but I am. I can’t-- I feel like-- everything, everyone-- why didn’t anyone just tell me? And I’m-- I’m jealous of you. You got to have-- you got to die in Deirdre’s arms and she cried over you and then you got-- you got to wake up with her. You didn’t have to ever be alone and it’s not fair. And I know I had-- I know he was there, but he died, too. I didn’t get to wake up with him. I didn’t get to cry in his arms. I didn’t get anyone and you had everyone and it’s not fair,” they sobbed, face planting into Morgan’s shoulder even as they lay on the mat, defeated. “I’m so mad at you. I’m so mad at myself. I can’t make it stop. It won’t….It won’t stop…”

“Shut up, we didn’t know it was a lie.” Morgan said, squeezing Remmy tighter. “No one can know until they get to here. And I am still pissed at you too. I am pissed, Remmy, but I love you. And if I can be pissed and love you, you can be angry and love yourself too. It’s okay. You can let yourself off the hook, okay? Let yourself off the hook…” She went on like that, fists bunched in their clothes and hair as she held them steady. Remmy continued to come apart in her arms, one weight on their chest slipping after another. “You’re not alone right now, are you?” She whispered. “Because we help each other. That’s what we have to do to survive this.”

Remmy’s hands curled tight enough into Morgan’s shirt to tear small holes in the fabric. They didn’t move, didn’t say anything, trembling in her arms, on the cold floor-- not that they could really feel it. They knew that was she said made sense, but their heart still clenched, their chest still heaved. Why couldn’t they just believe it? Was that trust really that far gone? Could they no longer believe Morgan after the shattering truth came out behind everyone’s egregious lies? That this was okay? That they were fine? That they were still themself, even undead? How could they believe anything anyone said anymore? They couldn’t. They just...couldn’t. But Remmy was so tired of fighting it. So they just curled into Morgan and let out silent tears, stealing their body. “I’m sorry,” was all they murmured into the quiet room, into Morgan’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

#chatzy #chatzy: morgan #morgan #a battery of guilt #tw self harm #//some fun song lyrics if u can guess them #wickedswriting

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etraytin · 4 years

Text

Quarantine, Day 55

The punchline of today's journal entry is that we got about five pounds of pad thai from the local noodle place for dinner, plus three additional entrees, so my writing may be interrupted by me falling asleep at any moment. It was really good pad thai, though. I will eat these jellybeans and attempt to power through.

Today was my first day of living with my new hair, which I dyed yesterday and forgot to talk about. It's Warm Amber Brown and turned out very well for hair dye that I bought at CVS and applied myself. It's a color I've used before, so I was pretty confident, but every once in awhile a box will say "amber" and mean something more like "purple" so you have to be cautious. This one is a warm and just slightly reddish brown, perfect! I don't typically clutter up my feed with photos of myself, but if I can't use selfies in my own quarantine journal, where can I? (And another new mask as well for an overall "felt cute, might venture into the wasteland later" vibe since I was about to go get the aforementioned takeout food.)

A lot of the morning today was spent preparing for and having a telemedicine meeting with my FIL's doctor. We spent quite a bit of time making sure that the computer was all set up and ready, then wound up using the speakerphone of an honest-to-god landline telephone after the technology pooped out on their end five minutes into the call. Truly this is post-apocalypse times. News is not great long term but we never expected it to be, and slightly more encouraging than expected in the short term. We need to figure out what we will do after two weeks in the rehab facility, which makes it very likely we will be here for two more weeks at least. After that it's a question of whether he comes back to the house with full-time care, or stays in a skilled care facility where he can be fully taken care of. Every option has its full share of suck, even more so when there can be no visitors in pretty much any care facility.

We can stay longer if needs be, in terms of actual work and school commitments. Everything for husband and kiddo is fully online till further notice, and I am still SUPER UNEMPLOYED at least until I can take the MPRE in August. Can't substitute teach, obviously, and mystery shopping right now would make me feel like a shitheel, to say nothing of the potential exposure danger. I mean, who is going to go out to a fast food restaurant where the workers have to be there because they don't get sick days and are somehow essential, and legitimately gauge whether they seem happy enough to be there? I freely acknowledge that a lot of what I do as a shopper is bullshit at the best of times, but before March there was at least a sense that we were all at least somewhat invested in the bullshit because they wanted those good scores and I wanted to give them wherever possible. Now, though, it's enough just to get through the day, and I believe anybody who is working grocery or foodservice right now should get 100% full credit for anything short of literally spitting in my food, which means I'm not in a mystery shopping mood at all. No matter how much bonus money they're waving because I am apparently not the only one feeling that way. So anyway, super-unemployed, but I still have obligations, and somebody would have to go back eventually to actually clean the house if we're going to be gone much longer than two weeks.

This morning, for instance, I woke up to a text from a friend offering me another teeny tiny kitten. You guys know how I feel about teeny tiny kittens. (I am in favor.) I had to tell her that I could not take her tiny kitten though, because I am four hundred miles away and kittens do not run very fast. I've also had to blow off a few Red Cross opportunities and food bank opportunities, which makes me feel a little guilty even though I know my priorities are where they need to be. Obviously what I need is some kind of Multiplicity-style cloning device where I could make a couple copies of myself (minus all the poorly-aged homophobia of the movie) and leverage our unique strengths in order to do all the things I want to get done while still leaving ample time for listening to The Good Place Podcast for the seventeenth time in a row. One clone would have to embark on an immediate full rewatch of The West Wing, because today I was on Facebook trying to come up with a WW-related name for every letter of the alphabet and I had to look on the wiki to remember Fitzwallace's first name. (It is Percy.) I was ashamed, deep in my soul.

I was thinking about kittens today, and wondering what it would take to just do kittens full time. Because honestly, kittens is a full-time job, plus extra. You've seen my delirious journal entries from the two-hours-of-sleep days. People who need to work can't do that. I can't do it much longer because I need to make some money. But it wouldn't have to be very much money. I mean, assuming my husband keeps his job, knock on wood, we could meet our financial obligation if I could bring in like 350 dollars a week. 1500 a month is just a little more than a 40-hour minimum wage job. I know at this point I've passed the bar exam and basically have to be a lawyer, but it's kind of amazing to think of what would happen if I could find somebody to just hire me to raise kittens. Maybe when I am making fat lawyer bucks, I will be someone's patron and allow them to become a full time kitten nanny, thereby assuaging my own guilt for getting out of the game.

Well, this journal has wandered very far afield, hasn't it. High point of the day was definitely getting to take a bath in the big master bathtub that nobody ever uses but me. I have to dust it every time I visit, but it's totally worth it. Low point was again trying to beg, reason and shame MIL into sitting down basically at all at any point during the day. I keep cleaning the fucking kitchen so she will not be tempted to get up and go into it, but it does not matter. Even if it is clean she will just go in there and rearrange things. I just want her leg to get better as soon as possible! I am sure that walking around on it without even a brace is not helping! Lunch we celebrated Cinco de Mayo with turkey enchiladas made by my husband from yesterday's leftovers. They were excellent! Supper we got takeout from the local noodle place. I got sushi, the kiddo got chicken nuggets (he steals my sushi), husband got General Tso's Chicken because he watched a documentary on it with his class, and MIL got pad thai. The local noodle place has always had generous portions, but today was bonkers. This is the pad thai after we'd already taken two cereal bowls worth out. We will be eating pad thai for days. There are worse fates, I suppose!

#quarantine #home hair color #quarantine hair #pad thai

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dontdietwd · 4 years

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until day 308

So this motherfucking life tried to break me.

You bitch.

This fucking fate or destiny wanted me down. Kicking me down a deep well to find rock bottom and throwing shit on top of me to bury me down there.

Well guess what.

Jack’s mom wasn’t going to say down there. Jack’s mom might hurt and cry, because she’s human and would never not be, but she just wouldn’t fucking stop.

I’d rebuild using that fucking rock bottom as the bedrock of the castle I was going to build.

So every day I would wake up with the sun, wash my face, drink strong coffee and go out there. With the shaved head, with the non-extended belly and without a baby in my arms. But I went out there, head high, crossbow hanging from my back, and I worked my ass off. I ran the Village, I went outside, I killed walkers, I scavenged, I took my guard shifts, I made decisions, I oriented the others, heard their opinions and ideas, went back home, washed up and started it all over again next morning.

And I’d smoke a lot of cigarettes. And I’d constantly crave for a drink.

While I was gone, Michonne had stepped up as the leader and she’d done a wonderful job. Things kept on going as planned, the chicken coop Morales had planned was done, now all we needed was birds, and he had started building the wall inside the hedge. There was a huge pile of bricks at a corner of the Village, cement, sand, all he works. It would be slow because we didn’t have enough people, but it’d get done.

Michonne and Merle had gotten even closer and were great friends now. Andrea had been hanging out a lot with Will and she liked Ma’s company. Ma had been sick lately, nothing specific. She was simply ninety-eight. I spent days thinking about having a conversation with Will and Mikki about her. If she passed away on her sleep or something like that and nobody saw it… She was going to turn.

I’m not even sure how I knew this. I’d seen D dying from a stab and turning, I’d seen many walkers wandering without a visible bite mark, so I was pretty much sure anyone who died would turn.

Although Jack never did.

Thank the Gods I didn’t even really believe in.

But I thought there was a strong possibility Ma would turn when she passed and we’d all have to know how to act in this case. I needed to talk to them.

But I hadn’t yet. It was sensitive and I was running from it. I started going out there alone again, with the same old excuse of looking for signs of Daryl and the group. I did look for signs; I did… But I was lying. To everyone, to myself. There was a laundromat on a little town nearby and in there I had created myself a little hideaway. To myself, to be alone and mourn and hurt without anyone seeing it. And to drink. I had hidden bottles there and I controlled myself, never got too drunk, or so I thought. It’s the mentality of the addict, always thinking we’re in control, always believed it’s no harm, it’s just a little drink, no problem. I’d return home after a few hours and nobody noticed, so why should I have to stop? Everything was fine, I was in control.

What I didn’t see, couldn’t ready understand then, was that when I was drinking the thoughts in my mind were always terrible. It made me feel worse, it made the pain even more painful, instead of numbing me, it made me think terrible things, when I slept under the effect of the alcohol my dreams were disturbing, full of walkers, Daryl turned, Michonne and Merle turned, Jack in my arms trying to bite me. It was awful, but my addicted mind could not understand that taking another shot to forget those images did not work at all. So I kept on.

Merle knew something was up. He may not know exactly, but the way he’d been looking at me with suspicious eyes was clear. He knew something was wrong. I mean, still wrong. Or maybe he was just worried because it hadn’t been long since I lost my baby, so I was obviously not fine.

One day he told me now I knew how to shoot with the crossbow and was good at it, I could take a step further and learn how to hunt, maybe even track. He’d been the one responsible for going hunting once a week bringing us all any kind of animals he could find, and he said it would be good to have someone else able to do it in the group. He was right. As I leader I should have thought about it.

So we were on the woods, Honey tracking in front of us, smelling everything and very attentive. We were silent for a long time, tracking something he had detected but I hadn’t been able to see, and Merle, even still tracking, kept looking at me and starting to say something but stopping himself. It was so unlike him that I knew something was up, and feared he was going to talk about my continuing drinking. But it eventually got to my nerves and I had to ask.

“Alright, Merle, what is it?” I said as I stopped and lowered my crossbow to the ground.

He stopped too, fished a pack of Morley’s from his pocket, offered me one, lit his own and then reached with the lighter to light mine.

“Ya know I ain’t smart, right?” he started

“Why do you say that?”

“Things I just can’t wrap my head around…” he looked far into the woods as he spoke. “Like Mikki.”

Well, that I wasn’t expecting.

“Mikki?”

“Yeah… Says she’s a girl but ya can see she ain’t a girl. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Ya can’t understand that?”

“Nope. Knew my whole life that if ya got a dick, you a man, if ya got a pussy, you a girl. That is ya wanna be the other way ‘round, you a freak.”

“Yeah, you’ve known wrong then.”

“But how?” he asked turning to me, and I could see his question was genuine. “How can Mikki says she a girl if she got a dick down there?”

“Well… I don’t know how to explain it, maybe she’d be the best one to do it. But just think it like that: you know you’re a man. Right?” he nodded the obvious answer. “And you’ve always known you a man, nobody had to tell you, you knew it since you was a little boy. Never had a question ‘bout that. And you know that, like, inside, you don’t have to look down and see a dick to know you’re a man. Right?” he nodded again. “But now imagine being this sure ‘bout it, but looking in the mirror and seeing the body of a woman. But in your head you know you’re a man, but what you were born with is different from what you know, from what you’ve always known your whole life.”

He shook his head, confused, “Nah, can’t see that happening.”

“You can’t see, but tons of other people can. Don’t matter if you don’t see, Merle. Mikki is a girl and she knows she’s a girl since forever, but something went different and she was born with a boy’s body. It’s wrong for her, her body don’t match her head, her soul, ya know what I mean? She is a girl, no matter what the register said when she was born, no matter that they yelled ‘it’s a boy!” when she was born. It being there make no difference. You’d still feel like a man if you, god forbid, lost yours, wouldn’t’ you?”

“Don’t even say somethin’ like that!”

“You know what I mean, Merle. A dick or a pussy don’t make a person a man or a woman. It’s all in the head.”

“But… It’s there, ain’t it?”

“Yep. I don’t know, it’s probably there, I don’t think she had it removed before the apocalypse. I’ll never ask either, it’s too intimate,” he said nothing, was just thoughtful smoking his cigarette. “Merle?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like her?”

He threw to cigarette to the ground and turned to walk, “I ain’t no faggot.”

“Merle, stop,” he did and turned to me again. “You ain’t, I know that. She’s a girl. You’re just a man who likes a girl.”

He turned to walk again, saying nothing, thoughtful.

“Does she know? Something’s happening between you two?”

“Think she does. Think she likes me too.”

“Then it’s a good thing, Merle,” I said smiling I was happy for him. Merle was overcoming a lot from his past. His prejudices, his racism, his homophobia. He was changing for the better, had already all those months, but now it was more. He liked someone and this was huge for a man like Merle. “Just don’t go breaking her heart, alright?”

* * *

I made a mistake.

I should have never kept on drinking in the first place, but that goes without saying. It was obvious that I should have stopped it again, I’d done it once, I could do it again. I could and I should. And every day, even as I drank, I knew it was bad for me. I knew my thoughts got fuzzy and way too negative under the effect. My dreams were terrible nightmares of everyone in the Village turned, Merle, Michonne, Andrea, all trying to eat me. Daryl, Carol, Glenn, Lori, all dead and invading the Village and the constant cry of a baby in the background, and I looked for him as I tried to escape the dead and couldn’t find him. I’d wake up heavy hearted, which made me want to drink more, which made the dreams even worse, and the thoughts in my head even when I was sober were dark and hopeless. So drinking was bad for me, for my mind, for my body, bad for everyone and everything, but I just kept on.

But that day, my mistake was to bring the booze I’d gathered into the Village. I brought it home, hidden among my personal stuff, and I drank at a night I wouldn’t be on watch.

And I obviously lost control.

My house was still isolated from the others. I had moved from the one I’d given birth in, and chosen an even farther one. It was nearly on the back of the Village, still near the lake as the other one had been. It was a nice area, trees all around, birds, the water. The kind of place I had always wanted for me before it all happened, and now I had it. But the fact that it was away from the others’ made me too comfortable and I got drunk in there, sure nobody would notice.

But they did. Michonne came first to check on me because I apparently had turned on some loud music, and there was nothing wrong with listening to some music in the Village as long as it wasn’t loud enough it could he heard outside the walls. If it could be heard outside, walkers would come, people could come.

It was a huge mistake. I put them all in danger, our home, our Village, the safety of my people.

But somehow, I think it had to happen. I needed Michonne to find me drunk at the house. I needed her to call Andrea and Merle. I needed them to see me like this, I needed their help. I needed help and I didn’t even know it.

It just had to happen.

They cleared my house of any alcohol, put me under a cold shower, told me off, and kept careful watch over me for the next few weeks. I wasn’t allowed to go outside alone anymore and I hated it in the beginning. I craved a drink and couldn’t have it. I fought with them, told them to leave me alone, said they had nothing to do with it, that they had no right controlling me like this.

But they saved me.

Merle understood well. He’d been though it in the few months after the hand incident in Atlanta. He’d gone through withdrawal from alcohol and drugs and he knew how I felt. He was not a patient care provider, though. He was more of a tough love kind of guy. Andrea was sweeter, but Michonne… She’d been disappointed.

And that’s what hurt the most. My very best friend got disappointed at me and this hit me hard. This is what made me, after the first few terrible days, understand what I’d done and understand the need of what they were doing for me. I talked to her, apologized, made promises all over again. But she knew promises meant nothing, I’d broken them before.

Over a week into it, Merle came to my place. I’d been pacing, making even Honey distressed. I asked him to leave me alone because I was not a good company then, I was aching for a drink, but he didn’t leave, shaking a bit, heart pounding. Instead, he sat on my couch, took something from his pocket, and lit it.

A joint.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Lightin’ up a joint, what ya think?”

“Have you been smoking?”

“Found this stash a few days ago. Little country home with a dead plantation in the back. Lots of it, years’ worth if we don’t let’em dry.”

“Merle… What?”

“What?” he looked up at me. “You saying you’re against it? Can have all the booze and be addicted to it, not function right without alcohol, but weed is bad? Weed’s what will do ya harm?”

I had no answer. It had been years since I had a joint, but I knew it was never as bad as alcohol. Or any other drug, for that matter. I’d liked it once, but never even got addicted to it. Drinks and other drugs, yeah. They were the ones that nearly destroyed my life, but nothing bad had ever happened after smoking a joint.

“Ya an addict, Sam,” he told me in all seriousness. “Ya can’t go anywhere to get treated. Ya can’t make therapy. Can’t go to a meeting every time ya need some. Ya hear me out, if ya smoke a joint now, ya gonna relax. This think ya feeling now? Will get numbed and will go away with time.”

“Ain’t that just exchanging a drug for another?” I still rebated even as I sat down on the couch by his side.

“Ya damn right it is. But at least it won’t do you too much harm. Ya gonna smoke one at night after a long day, relax, laugh, eat a lot and fall asleep. If ya gotta have somethin’ because you’re too damn used to have some substance in your system, at least won’t be much of a bad one.”

Did it make sense or was it just my addicted mind wanting to believe it?

Merle took a long drag of it, holding it in for a moment and then started couching like crazy. I had to laugh. What a pro!

“Fuck you, it’s been a while!” he said when he could and saw me laugh at him.

“Are you sure about this, Merle?”

“Ya do what ya want. I ain’t saying it’s the best solution, is just the least worse, is all.”

“I can’t do this… Michonne –”

“Is the one who suggested it in the first place when we found it. She ain’t no dimwit, Darlin’. She knows this ain’t as bad for you or anybody as alcohol.”

And then he handed it to me. I hesitated for a moment, but I knew he was right. Weed had been smoked since the beginning of humanity’s ability to plant stuff, thousands of years. The prohibition of it was recent, but not it’s usage. If this made me stop craving for a drink, it would help me get clean. I mean, as clean as someone is when smoking weed.

So I took it. Probably not the best solution, but it was a solution.

It turned out that, that night, I didn’t crave a drink anymore. At least that night, I calmed down, wasn’t shaking anymore, and my thoughts got lighter. No negativity about never seeing Daryl again. No pain for Jack’s loss. Just good memories, just Daryl’s voice calming me down, just Jack’s cute little hand clutching my finger. Just the good parts of the little while I’d had with him. And when I fell asleep – after Merle and I drowned in a family size pack of Cheetos – I didn’t have a nightmare. No dreams at all, just slept long and deep and woke up still feeling sleepy, but simply fine.

And I hadn’t felt fine in a very, very long time.

* * *

Merle and I were hunting. I had finally been able to pick up an animal trail myself and we were following it. I wasn’t sure what it was and Merle refused to tell me, because he obviously knew what it was. Honey was with us, silent on her paws, sniffing and attentive to all around us all. I had had a lot of success in training her. She’d come to me and be silent at a short whistle, sit by my side and stay put at a hand gesture, look for threats at a low, long whistle and relax and be free to play around at a click of my tongue.

And it was her who warned us someone was around. She froze by my side, eyes fixed somewhere high up a tree, completely still, just one short low growl to get my attention. Looking up, our weapons ready without even knowing why, Merle and I saw the ruins of a hunting platform. We couldn’t see anyone, but Honey knew for sure there was someone. My crossbow pointed up, Merle with a loaded pistol, we exchanged a look. We couldn’t keep walking and pass under the tree to the risk of getting attacked.

“We know you’re up there!”, I said and my voice echoed in the woods. “We mean no harm, just passing my, hunting some food. Will you show yourself?”

There was silence. Whoever was up there had surely heard me, but was keeping hidden. This could either mean it was someone really scared of people who just wanted us to go away, or a threat, someone who’d attack and try to rob and kill us.

“We just want to pass by knowing you won’t attack us, alright?” I kept on. “Come on, show yourself.”

It took a few more seconds, long ones, but they did. A boy who looked barely eighteen poked his head out of the platform, a rifle in hand pointing down at us, looking repeatedly to Merle and I.

“Good, thank you,” I told him. “You alone up there?”

“Yes!” he answered really fast and I knew it was probably a lie. “I don’t have stuff, so please just leave us alone!”

See? He wasn’t alone.

“Us?”

“Me! Leave me alone!”

“Hey, it’s alright. We don’t wanna rob you. I told you, we’re just hunting out here.”

“Go on, then!”

“And how do we know you ain’t shooting and robing us? Not taking the chance, kid.”

“You say ya don’t got stuff?” Merle said by my side. “Mean ya hungry?”

Oh, so proud of Merle! The old Merle I knew from before would never ask anyone that. He just wouldn’t care, but this Merle did.

“Why you ask?”

“If you’re hungry we can get you something,” I told him. “But we won’t if you don’t put your gun down.”

“Why would you help us? Nobody helps anymore these days!”

“Not nobody, kid,” I told him, my arms hurting a bit from pointing the crossbow up and steady. “We been hungry. Been there, alright?”

“Why should we trust you?”

Merle was the one to answer “Alright, I can see you gone through some shit, kid. You’re right in not trustin’ people, good thing these days. But we both down here got ya on our aims and ya not even hiding right, coulda shot ya between the eyes three times by now. What’s that tell ya?”

He hesitated and didn’t lower his rifle. Quietly, I told Merle to keep his own pointed at him and lowered my weapon. The kid’s attention picked up at that, as I rested my crossbow to the ground, removed my backpack and crouched down to open it. I had water and a packed lunch I’d brought from home, some real cooked food. I got up and help it on his sight.

“We’re offering you food, real food. Now, please, lower your weapon for once and come down or you won’t have it, simple like that.”

He wanted to believe us but hesitated and I admired him for that. It was good not to trust people easily these days and I knew it quite well. After a moment he did lower his rifle and by my side Merle visibly relaxed. I patted honey’s head to calm her down a little but didn’t tell her it was fine to relax. He disappeared from our sight for a moment and them we saw him star to climb down the stairs, and he really wasn’t alone. There was a girl with him, just a child who kept hidden behind him all the time.

These were David and Emma, brother and sister who’d been on the road with their two uncles after their mother died on the first few days of the outbreak. They had been robbed of everything weeks before and, when the men tried to react, they were killed. David and Emma had to watch all of it when they hid on top of a tree, or they’d have been doomed as well. Emma didn’t say a word, too scared to speak even as Merle and I led hem both back to the Village with us.

Our family was slowly growing.

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years

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Hi Steph! 👋 In honor of mental health awareness month, do you know any fics that talk about mental health? Thanks!

Hi Nonny!

Ooo, good topic!

I don’t know any FOR SURE that are SPECIFICALLY about mental health, however I do have a few fics that deal with mental health-type issues, so please take that into account that they’re not the main topic but rather a background issue they’re dealing with as part of the plot. If anyone has any that SPECIFICALLY deal with mental health, please let me know!

MENTAL HEALTH-RELATED

See also:

Self Harm, Danger Nights, and Drugs

Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attack, & Mental / Emotional Turmoil

Main Character Depression

Rescue by missilemuse (T, 2,574 w. || Fake Relationship, Sherlock Whump, Irene Helps Sherlock) - If this was the way Sherlock Holmes loved, it was no wonder why he had avoided the damned emotion for over half of his life. Part 6 of Reichenbach To Return

Bitter Nights Turned Sweet by Hyliare (T, 4,076 w. || Pre-Slash, Insomnia/Hallucinations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, POV Present Tense John Watson, Cuddling/Snuggling) – Sherlock has always had trouble sleeping; he hasn’t always had someone in his life willing to help.

Bed-Sharing Between Flatmates by testosterone_tea (T, 5,053 w. || 5 and Ones, Bed Sharing, PTSD John, Science, Whump, Insecure Sherlock, Asexual Sherlock) – 5 times Sherlock had an excuse to share John’s bed, and the one time he didn’t need one.

We are all together alone by Mildredandbobbin (M, 10,461 w. || Mutual Pining, Implied Torture, PTSD, Child Loss, Post-S3) – John is back at 221B but his relationship with Sherlock is not what it used to be.

Where the Sun Never Shines by teahigh (T, 11,634 w. || PTSD, Nightmares, H/C, Post-TRF, Implied Sex) – John is a mess. Sherlock can’t fix him, but he tries. That’s good enough, John thinks.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away…

Turn Left at the Park by Glenmore (NR (E), 37,409 w. || Alternate First Meeting / ASiP Divergence, Case Fic, Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Loneliness, No Mary, Possessive Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Nightmares/PTSD, Sherlock Saves John, Sherlock Whump-ish, Doctor John) – So what would have happened if John hadn’t walked through the park and met Stamford?What if, instead, he walked around the park and just went home?

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w. || H/C, Injury, Slow Burn) – When John’s left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she’s about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete.(This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

The Homecoming Series by sussexbound (M, 51,744 w. across 12 stories, WIP || Domestics, PTSD, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling, Jealousy, Family Issues, Cuddling) – Sometimes home is all you need. After three years of horror, betrayals, and crushing loss, John and Sherlock find their way back home to one another, and together find new footing in a world that has changed forever.

Lost Without My Blogger by starrysummernights (E, 52,155 w. || Rev. Reich, PTSD, Hurt / Comfort, Fluff / Angst, Psychological Torture, Reunion Fic, Friends to Lovers) – John is abducted and declared dead. How will Sherlock cope without his blogger? How will he react when John comes back from the “dead?” Drama and angst with a healthy dose of romance. Part 1 of I’d Be Lost Without My Blogger

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w. || Post S3 || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

Scars by SilentAuror (E, 60,493 w. || Rape / Non-Con / Abuse, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Dub Con Elements, Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice) – S3 rewrite, showing Mary’s manipulation of John as he realizes his love for Sherlock. Mary is not having it.

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn’t have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) – John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w. || FutureAU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say:Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump, Mild DubCon, Hand / Blow Jobs, Torture) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w. || Established, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis, Happy-ish Ending) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it’s supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #mental health #my fic recs #Anonymous

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crushedbyhyperbole · 4 years

Text

Beyond Broken - Chapter Two

Have you read chapter one?

Warnings: There’s mild homophobia from a secondary character, and implied repercussions by that same character. Really he’s just old and set in his ways.

For more chapters see my Thor Odinson Mobile Masterlist

The Lonely Man

On Saturday Jess ran the emergency dental clinic until two o’clock when Sadie came in to replace her. She made it to David’s a little after three, taking a detour along the costal road by Ocean Beach Park. The previous night had really stuck in her head, like the spark of connection with another equally tortured soul. It was absurd and she knew it, but she found herself driving passes around the block anyway, searching. It was a futile venture.

William Sr. was full of smiles when he answered the door.

“There she is!” He beamed brightly. “My favourite girl.” His hug was firm and sincere.

“Ahh, Bill,” Jess chuckled, “not so loud or Daisy will get jealous.”

He winked at her with a cheeky grin and waved a hand at her as if to say ‘nonsense’.

“How’re you keeping? I hear you’re still looking after my David. He really loves your company, you know. You keep him sane, and me, if truth be told. He’d be in the house every night moping around getting under my feet if he didn’t meet you almost every evening. And you know I appreciate you helping out with the dog an all.” Bill didn’t wait for a reply but pottered eagerly into the kitchen. “Coffee, tea?”

“Coffee, please.” She’d need it after the horrific night sleep she got the night before. “I’m doing ok, thanks for asking. David an I really keep each other sane. He keeps me occupied so I don’t think about things too much.”

Bill’s eyes darkened as if a shadow had passes over his face momentarily. Jess knew it was still hard for him. It was hard for them all.

“He tells me you’re still enjoying your Sunday night meet.”

Bill only smiled by way of a reply.

“Sugar? Or are you still sweet enough?”

“Sweet enough.” She winked.

Daisy came running in at that moment and jumped up at her legs, laddering her tights and smearing mud up her shins. Luckily the knee-length pencil skirt she wore was spared the muddy make-over.

“Oh you stupid dog, leave the girl alone!” Bill bent, strained to pick her up. “Davey boy, come get this dog back in the utility room, she’s getting mud all over the place.”

“No harm done. I can live without the tights.”

“Hi!” David enthused, breathless, wearing a toothy gurn and wide eyes in place of a smile. He grabbed Daisy and took her back to get her cleaned. “We’ve just been down to the old stream.” He called from the other room. “All the rain has turned it into a river and a lot of the land has flooded.”

“Surprised they haven’t concreted that over to make a car park yet.” Bill scoffed, handing her a steaming cup.

“Thanks.” She sipped and sat with William Sr. as he resumed his afternoon TV session.

Watching the news was unbearable. People were still talking about Disintegration Day. This new D-Day had surpassed the world war II D-Day by quite a significant factor. Each city in America, and around the world probably, was erecting monuments, naming all those lost in what they were now calling The Infinity War. She didn’t pretend to know what that meant but it didn’t change the harsh reality of the outcome. We had lost but not without trying, apparently. The scale of this attack was far greater than that on New York and The Avengers had been powerless to stop it.

Jess knew very little about who and what The Avengers were, besides work talk and her talks with David. There had been public out-cry, people slating the group for their failure, calling for them to be brought to justice for bringing this war here to earth. What had become clear in the following weeks was that this Infinity War had been universal. Half of all life in the whole universe had been wiped out. How can a small group of people such as they fight a war that large on so many fronts? It was impossible.

Just leave them alone. Jess thought each time she heard the criticism. They’re people too. They’ve lost loved ones just the same as us.

“You ready to go?” David smiled down at her. How long had he been there?

“Yeah, sorry.” She shook herself free of the stupor that had gripped her, taking a long swig of her cooled coffee. “You sure you’re not up for a late lunch, Bill?”

David shot her a daggered look.

“Nuh-uh.” He grunted without taking his eyes off the TV. “I’m not one for these trendy wine bars and fancy restaurants. You go enjoy yourselves.”

She chuckled, if only he knew how few trendy wine bars and fancy restaurants there were left.

“Why did you insist on inviting him?” David pouted from the passenger seat. His feminine side was really showing through more and more lately. Silas was the likely catalyst for this development.

“He’s got feelings. And inviting him at least shows we care. Besides, he never accepts.”

She pulled away down the cluttered street.

All but the big towns and cities were becoming more and more run down as time went on. There were fewer sanitation workers now, hell, there were fewer of every kind of worker, but the same number of streets. The Stark Foundation’s Disaster Relief Initiative had been put into place two months ago, where the homeless and unemployed were all suddenly employed and homed thanks to vacancies and empty homes created by D-Day. It was taking a while, but humanity was gradually getting itself back on its feet. Things would never be the same but that didn’t mean it had to be all bad.

Jess’s dinner plans with David were mostly a ruse, just as the dog walking was, and virtually everything else in David’s life. They grabbed something quick in an uptown bar before David shot off to meet his lover.

“I don’t know why you don’t tell Bill that you’re gay.” She’d said to him once, a few months back.

“Because he’ll disown me and it’ll probably kill him.” He’d replied, swiping through grinder on his phone.

“Has he said as much?”

“Yeah.” David had stopped scrolling and turned his phone to her to reveal a sultry looking man with dark chest hair and a shaved head. “What do you think?”

“Too cliché.” She’d sipped her cocktail and rolled her eyes. “What were his exact words?”

“To quote…” David had dropped his phone into his pocket and stared at her with an irritated glare. “’When are you going to get a girlfriend, huh? Double-you-Jay started dating Jess before he was your age. I swear, boy, you better not turn out to be one of them fairies or I’ll skin you alive and disown you.’ He also added ‘you’ll send me and your mother to an early grave, damned boy.’”

Jess had accepted that, yes, maybe William Sr. was a bit of a homophobe. It had been a long time since she’d heard the old man refer to his eldest son as double-you-jay (W.J. for William Junior). Bill got over that phase when she and Will got engaged. Maybe he didn’t think of him as a man until he was on his way towards marriage.

So that put Jess squarely in the realms of helping David lie to his father and covering up for him while he went and got laid. It did make her wonder what kind of relationship it was, and would it last if the people in it could only see each other a few hours a day in clandestine meetings of sordid debauchery? And they were debauched, David had told her as much.

Whatever works for them. He’s happy. Let it go.

At 7pm she found herself back on the boardwalk at Ocean Beach Park instead of back at the practice catching up on paperwork. Heels and a skirt that limited your leg movements were not things one should wear for negotiating uneven terrain; she stumbled a few times on her way down to the waterfront. The clouds weren’t all that dense yet, some of them looked more white than grey, which was a change.

She leaned against the railing by marker twelve, it really was a beautiful spot. The regal trees and grassy expanse of the park at her back, dissected by well worn footpaths and clusters of flowering shrubs, clean pale sands stretching along in front of the silvery-wood deck of the boardwalk, and beyond, the deep Prussian blue expanse of the Atlantic mantled by tempestuous skies, all perfectly framed by minimum human clutter.

“No dog today?” A deep voice scared her into an undignified squeak.

Clutching her chest, gasping, she whipped around to face the man.

“I apologise, if I scared you.” The lonely man held his hands up in mock surrender.

“No, it’s ok. Well, I mean, you did, but it’s ok.” She panted a little, leaning forward to catch her breath again.

There was more light than when she’d previously seen him. His hood was down revealing dark-blonde hair that was short at the sides and longer on top, a neatly trimmed beard and the most perfect teeth she’d seen in quite a while. His smile faded quickly as he searched her face with concern, one crystal clear, almost iridescent, blue eye and one hazel eye scanning her reaction.

Heterochromia. That was rare.

“Once again, I apologise.” He lowered his gaze and began to turn away. “I shall leave you be.”

“No!” She lurched forward with her hand outstretched to stop him. “This is kind of your spot anyway, I’m just squatting here.” She rolled her hand in a beckoning motion. “Please. Stay.”

“Very kind of you.”

His accent was strange, English maybe but she wasn’t quite sure. He leaned on the railing at just over arm’s length from her, respecting the unspoken boundaries that strangers should about personal space.

They stood a while, looking out across the water. It was comfortable, she didn’t feel awkward until she suddenly remembered his question.

“No dog.” She said, nodding embarrassingly, giggling a little at how stupid she sounded.

The lonely man dipped his head forward, a smile playing on his lips.

“She’s an energetic one. I trust your gentleman friend is doing his duty this evening otherwise you will have a rampant puppy to contend with tonight.” He rumbled a short chortle at his internal imagery.

“He has.” David was family, not a ‘gentleman friend’.

She continued to look out across the water, feeling the chill of the metal railings bite into her forearms through her white chiffon blouse. It had been a mild day up until now, but with the light fading and the wind beginning to pick up she wished she’d brought her jacket from the car. Her sweater vest only did so much and, honestly, she hadn’t intended to stay so long.

“It doesn’t look as though it’ll storm so hard tonight, the air feels a bit lighter.” She glanced to her right to see him nodding. “Will you miss the rain?”

He looked at her then, with a pained look, mouth and brows set into a solemn expression.

“There are other things than rain to cleanse the spirit.” His tone was almost sagely. He offered her a thin-lipped smile.

“I suppose you’re right.” Jess had almost forgotten the cold by then. Her mind was quiet.

They stood in the failing light until ten o’clock rolled around. The lonely man was the first to break their mutual silence.

“I suppose I should let you go.” He rumbled quietly. “Shouldn’t keep you here any longer with my captivating presence.” He flashed her a brilliant smile and she couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“I’m not exactly handcuffed to the railings here.” She laughed. A light feeling she thought she’d lost bubbled up delicately in her chest. For the first time in ten months she felt like she might be able to find herself again, if only she could let herself feel something other than agonising loss. “But I should go. I’m the designated driver.” She raised her eyebrows and sighed.

“I hope your gentleman friend doesn’t keep you waiting again this evening.” The lonely man called after her.

“Me too. It was nice to meet you.” She waved from the start of the trail that would take her to her car.

“Likewise.”

#thor fanfiction #thor odinson #thor x ofc #marvel fanfiction #thor #thor angst #beyond broken #my writing #i write fanfiction #fanfiction #survivor's guilt #post infinity war #pre endgame #avengers #thor fanfic #cloudy's writing

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j2reversebang · 5 years

Text

2018 Master Post

Word Count: 4000 - 6000 Title: Darkest Before Dawn Artist: bluefire986 Author: storyspinner70 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Some violence (not terribly explicit), use of magic and necromancy, pre-slash, hurt Jensen, little bit of hurt Jared. Summary: Jensen and Jared have been at odds for nearly a year now - the result of reality and dreams clashing violently. Jared wanted more than the normal life of the second Prince. Jensen wanted nothing more than to keep Jared with him forever. They're brought back together when Jensen's mother, long presumed dead, returns to his kingdom and calls him home. Can he leave Jared behind? And what happens when he finds out that, like usual, nothing is as it seems? Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: Slow Road to Somewhere Good Artist: tx_devilorangel Author: amypond45 Other Pairings: past Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Jensen Ackles, past OCs/Jared Padalecki Rating: PG Warnings/Spoilers: past abusive relationship, friends to future lovers, cuddling without sex Summary: Fifteen years ago, Jared was the younger brother of Jensen’s best friend. Now, Jensen’s a popular online magazine editor, actor, and director, and Jared is a freelance photographer. When they meet at the launch party for Jensen’s latest project, Jensen’s instantly attracted to the gorgeous man who used to be the boy next door. Can Jensen overcome his past mistakes to take a chance on love with the man who was once like a little brother to him? Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: In the Company of Wolves Artist: darklittleheart96 Author: storyspinner70 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Alpha/Omega, Alpha Jensen, Omega Jared, Non-Consensual Werewolf Turning, Werewolves, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rough Sex, Explicit Sexual Content Summary: Agent Jared Padalecki had spent his life as far away from werewolves as he could get. He understood they weren’t all the creatures that attacked his sister, but he could hold a grudge like the best of them. When what looks like a serial killer hits his Texas town, he finds he must work with one – Jensen Ackles. He does his best to stay civil, but how will things go when the case takes a turn no one was expecting? Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Green or Grey Artist: junkerin Author: annie46 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: None Summary: Jared is an environmental activist trying to protect a beautiful green valley that houses many endangered species. Jensen is the building tycoon who plans to develop the valley. On the first meeting of the two, emotions fly high and not only because of the controversy at hand. Why has the other to be so stubborn and so damn attractive? Art: N/A Story: Live Journal Title: Size Does Matter (On Occasion) Artist: jdl71 Author: herminekurotowa Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: dragon!Jared, hurt!Jensen (what a surprise) Summary: The first impression is important. Jared's a young dragon. He has been lonely for a long time, but he'd never thought he'd meet his mate stuck in a McDonald'sbag. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: Regarding Jensen Artist: amberdreams Author: hunters_retreat Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: amnesia, assassins Summary: He looked at the other man and drew a complete blank. Where his name should be, there was nothing. No name. No birthday. He didn’t know where he was or what had brought him there. He couldn’t remember being shot, or why someone would want to shoot him. There was nothing. No parents. No siblings. No childhood memories. No adult memories either. “I don’t remember anything.” Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 | Tumblr Title: Dream Painter Artist: tx_devilorangel Author: maryjo24 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Memory Loss/Amnesia from a past assault, Dream Sex Summary: Up and coming artist Jared Padalecki is brutally attacked one night and comes out of it battered, his hands crushed, and unable to recall the hours preceding the attack. The only clues for those missing hours, and of his attacker, are apparently buried deep in his subconscious, revealed only in dreams and nightmares. Obsessively, Jared spends months in therapy of his own design, strengthening and retraining his damaged hands through painting on canvas after canvas the form of a single man. Who is this man, is he real – could he be Jared’s attacker, or is he someone else? Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Word Count: 6000 - 8000 Title: Christmas Invitation Artist: wondering_why_i Author: jdl71 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Kissing, Angst, Pinning, Mutual Pining, Mention of Homophobia - not by J2, College AU - Jared & Jensen are the same age Summary: It’s the Christmas break for Jared and Jensen. Jared is torn between his feeling for Jensen and maintaining their friendship and his status of roommate. Can time alone, in a cabin in the snowy woods help Jared figure things out? Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: From the Land of the Midnight Sun Artist: bluefire986 Author: amypond45 Rating: R Warnings/Spoilers: post-apocalypse AU, bottom!Jensen, powers!boys Summary: Jared’s life is pretty ordinary, if a bit lonely, until the day he slides down a snowy mountainside and falls into a cave. Or is it a tomb? Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Until the End Artist: knowmefirst Author: hunters_retreat Rating: PG 13 Warnings/Spoilers: Post-apocalyptic Summary: Jared liked being on the Earth, scorched as it was. He didn’t care if he carried dirt in his every fiber. He didn’t care that his hair took three cleaning cycles when he got back to the station just to be truly free of it again. He didn’t care that his skin tanned darker each time he was on assignment and his once pale skin never seemed to return to the shade he had been born with, or that his sun-darkened skin was decades out of fashion. Art: N/A Story: Live Journal | Tumblr | Ao3 Word Count: 8000 - 10000 Title: A Tigrefying Tail Artist: kuwlshadow Author: alyndra Other Pairing: Background Jared/Gen Rating: G Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, Jared Padalecki is transformed into a tiger on the set of Supernatural.Shenanigans ensue. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: My Barista, My Pianist My Muse Artist: jdl71 Author: i_o_r_h_a_e_l Other Pairing: Mention of past Jeff/Jensen Rating: R Warnings/Spoilers: Angst, Hurt Jensen, Bottom Jensen, Top Jared, Past Abuse, Barista Jensen, Pianist Jensen, Artist Jared Summary: Jared Padalecki is an artist whose last showing was well received, but went nowhere. He’d get his big break if only he could find the perfect model. While sitting in a coffee shop, he spies the barista, an intriguing looking Jensen. Jared thinks he’d be the perfect model, now all he has to do is convince Jensen of that, and possibly that Jensen should date him. Jensen finds himself pursued by Jared Padalecki, an artist. Jensen isn’t sure what to make of this man. Is he serious about wanting him to model for him or is just another way for some guy to hit on him? He’s not too sure what to make of this artist, aside from the fact that Jared is just the man he could fall for. Then there is the case of an ex. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Word Count: 10000 - 15000 Title: I Heard the First Wave of the Rising Tide Artist: 2blueshoes Author: whispered_story Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: Jensen loves the ocean—and watching the hot guy who's almost always surfing during Jensen's morning stroll along the beach. He's happy to just admire the guy from afar, but Jared is determined to become a part of Jensen's life—starting with teaching him how to surf. Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Two Hearts [Are One] Artist: bluefire986 Author: non_tiembo_mala Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragon Jensen Ackles, Magic, King Jared, Age Difference, Wedding Night, Predestination, First Time, Virgin Jared, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Top Jensen, Bottom Jared Summary: Jared is a prince who can only become King through marriage to one of Dragonkind, but not just any dragon. Jensen is his match, predestined by the gods, and he has waited for Jared to come along for a very, very long time.Their wedding night is one centuries in the making. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: Joker’s Wild Artist: emmatheslayer Author: crownoyami Other Pairing: Jared/Cindy (Past/Mentioned) Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Jared/Jensen, Past Jared/Cindy, Bottom Jensen, Top Jared, Top Jensen, Bottom Jared, Topping From the Bottom, Switching, Anal Fingering, Hand jobs, Anal Sex, Gender Swap Cosplay, Comic-Con, Oral Sex, Playing with the Timeline, Rimming, Barebacking, Light Angst, Fluff. Summary: Going to Comic-Con at the insistence of his girlfriend, Jared was looking to unwind for a weekend. What he found was a Joker he can’t get out of his head. When he returns the following year, they start a romance as passionate as the characters they portray. But will it last for more than a weekend a year? Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: Drop Dead Fed Artist: merakieross Author: zara_zee Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: gun violence, organised crime, top/bottom switching, FBI, Assassins, NSFW art Summary: Special Agent Jensen Ackles is working day and night to bring down the infamous Cortese Drug Cartel. His workload is so demanding that he hasn’t been laid in months, which is probably why he’s crushing hard on Jay – the hot guy who recently opened Jack of Tarts, the awesome new bakery near the office. They’ve been flirting for weeks and Jensen is sure it’s building up to something mind blowing. Someone trying to blow his brains out while he’s getting his daily cupcake fix is not exactly what he had in mind. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: Lost for You Artist: dephigravity Author: dancing_adrift Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: Jensen is more than a little in love with Tristan, a go-go dancer at the club he goes to every Tuesday. He'd consider making a move, too, asking him out or something, if it weren't for the tiny scrap of material Tristan is always wearing around his neck. That collar tells Jensen that, while Tristan looks like everything he could ever want, he's the exact opposite of the sort of partner Jensen needs. Luckily for Jensen, he couldn't be more wrong in his assumptions, and Jared "Tristan" Padalecki is going to prove it to him. Art: Live Journal | Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: You'e Got Time Artist: emmatheslayer Author: tammyrenh Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: switching, cursing, panic attack, some fighting (mainly pushing) Summary: Jensen and Jared were once friends, but things didn't end well between them. After his parents' death, Jared went into a tail spin that ended with him in the prison camp that Jensen works as a guard. Things between them are tense and when their temperatures rise - well sometimes sex happens. Can they find a way to forgive each other their sins of the past (and of the present?) Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Word Count: 20000 - 40000 Title: Healing the Strong Artist: darklittleheart96 Author: crownoyami Other Pairings: Richard/Robert, Past Richard/Jared Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Bottom Jared, Top Jensen, Not Historically Accurate, Violence, Killing, Hurt Jared, Slavery, Minor Character Death, Sword Wounds, Pining, Masturbation, Implied/Referenced Rape, Past Relationships, Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Anal Play, Rough Oral Sex, Facials, BDSM Undertones, Spanking, Frottage, Anal Fingering, Biting, Hair Tugging/Pulling, Virgin Jensen, Bondage, Sleep-Sex, Anal Sex, 69, Coming Untouched, Bareback, Possessive Jensen, Morning Sex, Slight Breath Play, Rough Sex, Rimming, Thoughtful Richard, Caring Robert, Bar Fight, Gambling Mentions, Mentions of Flagellation, Mentions Jared/Others. Summary: When Jared is forced to leave the Colosseum, having gotten injured in his last fight which almost cost his him life, Richard his manager has the idea of buying the gladiator a slave to help care for him. Young Jensen wasn’t like the other slaves at the market, his eyes burned with defiance and in his youth was a strength rarely shown in slaves. Having a slave in his home wasn’t what Jared wanted, but as they spend their days together it could be just what he needs. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: We Are Sick Artist: emmatheslayer Author: wincest_whore Other Pairing: Jensen/Danneel (briefly - non graphic) Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: bottom!Jared, top!Jensen, obsessive!Jensen, self harm, violence, character death (minor), barebacking, dub-con, unrealistic depictions of a mental hospital Summary: Jensen Ackles: sick, twisted, cold-blooded killer. Jared Padalecki: broken, hopeless romatic, addicted to self harm. When their paths cross, it ignites a fire too bright to ignore. Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal Title: The Billionaire and the Bandit Artist: missyswife37 Author: twoboys2love Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: mentions cruelty to horses Summary: Jensen Ackles is a wealthy rancher who deals in race horses. When some of his horses go missing, he sets up a trap to catch the thieves. He catches...Jared Padalecki. Jared has a very low opinion of Jensen but agrees to work off his debt on the ranch. Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: These Real and Vivid Dreams Artist: gotaprettymouth Author: wincest_whore Other Pairing: Christian Kane/Steve Carlson Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: drug use, character death(s), suicide, no happy ending Summary: After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, Jensen spirals down a dark path. Will his friends be able to pull him back from this road? Or will he succumb to his dark impulses? Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal Title: Head Over Feet Artist: marietwist Author: non_tiembo_mala Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Reference to past suicide attempt Summary: When Jensen's therapist suggests he do some volunteer work, he starts helping out at a soup kitchen downtown. Meeting Jared, the guy who runs it, is the first in a string of good surprises that just might change Jensen's life for the better. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Dragon’s Heart Artist: crownoyami Author: darklittleheart96 Other Pairing: Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Samantha Smith Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Minor Character Death, Blood and Injury, Dragon, Mentioned Massacre, Violence, Soulmates, Magic, Mutual Pining, Daydreams, Bottom Jared Padalecki, Top Jensen Ackles, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Consensual Bondage, Injured Jared, Slavery, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Anal Play, Anal Fingering, Mutual Masturbation, Barebacking, Anal Sex, Rimming, Coming Untouched, Oral Sex, Nonbinary Character Summary: Jensen is the next in line to become Chief of their clan. To earn his place, first, he must complete a quest to prove his worth. Thankfully, he is given aid in the form of the head warrior, Jared to help protect him. Perhaps with both their skills they will be able to complete the seemingly impossible task of obtaining the dragon’s heart. Jensen never thought he would find something more valuable than his title along the journey. But can Jensen return home with both the dragon’s heart and his own intact? Or will their return rip Jared away from his arms? Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3

#j2 reverse bang #j2 reverse bang 2018 #mod post #master post #master post 2018

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mildly-incoherent-ramblings · 3 years

Text

Alturas

Derived From, And An Offshoot Of “The Weekend In The Country” Writing Prompt, Given By Adam Gnade.

A Preface: This story is awful. I have tried to work through this experience for years. This is a work of semi-fiction I suppose, but most of this really did happen, and you can guess which character is based on me pretty easily. I do not condone ANY of the actions depicted here. Please, care for your animal friends, and your elderly family, and if you cannot, find help for them. Good fucking god find some help and fucking save them. Do everything in your power. I did not sleep a full night’s sleep for months after what I saw that weekend.

CW: animal abuse, animal neglect, self neglect, dementia, guns, gunfire, themes of transphobia/homophobia, domestic abuse, toxic family dynamics, misogyny, vivid sensory descriptions of these things.

Part 1: Knuckle Bones

The drive itself was not bad. There was felt a certain nostalgia for many trips down south to San Diego to visit my great aunt with the family when we were children, or to the north to see the snow in the winter. Dad got lost for a little while, but he refused to admit it, he just angrily grumbled to himself and yelled to the backseat if anyone made a noise that broke his concentration. We rode through miles of outstretched quiet roads interrupted by the occasional rest area, and only stopped briefly at points for food and gas, and to rotate who got to sit in the front seat. On freeways and then off of them and up into the endless hills, long winding roads that almost felt like going in circles we drove, all of us anticipating the destination. We were going to visit grandma and grandpa, my Dad’s stepmom and father. They lived on a little farm out in Alturas.

Alturas is a small town nestled up in the rightmost corner of California, bordered both by Nevada to the east and Oregon to the north. When we finally arrived there, the first thing I noticed were the hot air balloons. I had never seen them in person before. Floating out toward the horizon and above us and all around were hundreds of these drifting along, wicker baskets and all. Being mostly a city kid, I had almost forgotten they even existed. Peacefully scattered near and far in an expanse of clear blue sky I saw them; big beautiful ones with complex designs in an array of bright colors; mostly red and yellow with splotches of cyan and green, bits of neon pink. They reminded me of printer cartridges or SMPTE bars on a TV screen. I fixated on them as we rode up onto the main street of the town.

We stopped at a diner for breakfast, and the realization hit me that I was with my family and in a moderately conservative area. I would have no choice but to act as a woman here, I would not be given another option. I’d have to try my best to blend at least. Dressed in a baggy T-shirt and jeans, and a baseball cap backwards like some 90′s mall bro troupe, one could say that alone was a dead giveaway. But to these people, and to my family at the time, I was a dyke at best. At worst... lets not get into it.

We ate breakfast at this little place, dusty and kind of worn down, white walls yellowed over the years with tacky décor displayed upon them. The Don’t-Tread-On-Me flag hung up in the corner made me very nervous. Dad and my brother didn’t notice, but the old folks at the table next to us, and the truckers on the other side of the room, and the CHP officers grouped together at the bar shot daggers in my general direction, some of them holding their glare on me like snipers aiming for my head from the top of a building. I tried to eat quickly and eat well, especially since I hadn’t had anything that day except for gas station coffee and a pack of hostess mini donuts several hours before. I ate like I eat, which can be stereotyped as like how a man eats. At one point my brother said I wasn’t being polite, even though his table manners were about as bad, and the reason why he felt it different for me need not be spoken. Loud and clear.

My brother had a really hard time accepting my transition. Same with Dad. Neither will admit to it now but they both were cruel to me often, and for a while hoped they could just disregard this aspect of me and force me back into the box of womanhood until I gave up. When I first came out my brother he offered me a pair of jeans he didn’t wear anymore and asked me if I needed any advice on good cologne to wear, needed any razors, etc. This enthusiasm wouldn’t last. The next time he wanted money from me, or my weed, or something of mine he could sell, or someone he could point his anger toward, he would weaponize my former femininity against me and revert back to the same misogynistic behavior I had always known him to engage in. I was a woman again when he wanted me to be one, and I had no choice in this matter. This would go on for years. He still to this day has a deep subconscious hate for women, but thankfully and in despite of how sickening these implications are I have escaped this form of mistreatment after starting testosterone.

My Dad was a bit more open, he just didn’t know how to navigate it. He wanted to allow my brother to “have his own opinion” and opted to avoid discussion of it as much as possible. He would later learn that when it comes to something like this, there are no SIDES, there is either upholding the human need to live authentically or deny that need no matter how negatively this affected me and others like me. These days, he proudly supports me and is kind to the trans people in his neighborhood, and would like very much to take his kids to pride once covid is contained and its safe to attend large events again. He got better. Thank fucking god he got better.

We checked into an Inn down the road, got out and stretched our legs. My brother and I immediately went to go smoke a joint. We hid around the back of the building hoping Dad wouldn’t notice, but apparently we stank up the whole area and came back to him seething with anger. He sparked a cigarette, tried to calm down, and we unloaded our belongings from the car in silence. Then it was time to head to the farm.

A few miles out from town we drove through the acres of desolate farmland down a dirt and gravel road that seemed to go on forever. I didn’t recognize the area until we started pulling into the driveway to their little house. Dad was swearing and smacking his steering wheel, cursing no one in particular but frustrated at how the gravel would scratch the paint on his car. We were, though we did try to blend in, hilariously obvious city people.

I recognized the shapes first, the house, the big looming tree on the right side, the wire fences surrounding the property, the rusty old truck. I had only been here as a kindergartener so my exact recollection of this place was fuzzy, but I had fond memories of the animals and how happy grandma and grandpa were to see me. I felt some excitement to return to this place that I always felt to be so welcoming, warm and filled with love. Then we got closer.

The first thing I noticed were the dogs. Two gigantic rabid pitbulls, one chained to the tree in the yard and one chained to a fence post just to the side of the house behind him. They were both aggressively barking and pulling on their chains trying to get to our car, foaming at the mouths and vicious as hell. I am cautious to describe this because I am aware of a certain stigma around pitbulls and their commonly misunderstood demeanor, and I will add that I have never known any dog of this breed to be cruel in any way by nature. But these dogs, they were not aggressive out of any sort of inherent violence and hatred, they were scared. They wanted to escape. The felt us to be a threat. Their paws were caked in shit and mud, mucus leaking from their eyes and matts in their fur. There were big festering wounds on the side of the dog nearest the truck as though he was bitten by something. Before him, the remains of a cat who had been caught and torn to shreds lay splayed open and rotting in the summer heat, the carcass filled with maggots. Bits of the poor things insides were scattered around the yard.

I turned my eyes over toward the house. The building itself had deteriorated significantly. The paint was peeling and chipped. Rotting wood was visible underneath all covered in a thick, black mold. The entire yard was littered with trash; rusty old cans and plastic bags, rotting apple cores, some unidentifiable mounds of what I can only assume had once been food waste. Weeds overgrew dusty and dry, and the front porch itself was falling away barely keeping its shape. To the left of it, the garage was wide open and I could see the stacks upon stacks of busted furniture, rusted metal piping, lengths of barbed wire wrapped in bundles and all manner of poorly kept junk haphazardly packed against the inner side wall.

My father’s eyes went wide as we all sat in silence, shocked at the appearance of what was apparently the home his mom and dad had been living in for the last few decades, and just how much the state of this place had declined since our last visit. He held his fist to his mouth, clenched so tight you could see his knuckle bones through his skin. Pushing back tears, he tried his best to shake the face of disgust and horror from himself before cautiously opening the door. Under his breath, my brother uttered the phrase “what the fuck,” which immediately resulted in dad turning toward the back seat angrily and slamming his fist on the middle console, growling at him to shut the fuck up through clenched teeth. The spray of his spit fell on our faces. His expression had shifted to be dramatically similar to the dogs. Anger and defensiveness as a secondary reaction to an underlying feeling of danger, and a desire to escape the inevitable. I have nightmares of this face.

Just then grandpa came hobbling out from the garage clutching a 12 gauge shotgun, screaming for grandma that they had burglars on the premises and commanding us to leave. He pointed it upward and haphazardly fired a warning shot which went straight through the roof of the garage and aimed the smoking barrel directly at us. All three of us had our hands up instantly. Grandma came hobbling out of the house pulling through the dirt in her walker as quickly as she could, yelling for him to stop.

“Garland, that’s your fucking SON. And the grandchildren! They’ve come to visit, we just discussed this earlier this morning FOR FUCKS SAKE GARLAND PUT IT DOWN!” She grabbed his arm and he froze, the tension in his shoulders dropped. He lowered his weapon, staring at us puzzled as he processed the situation.

“ANDREW?” He yelled. “ANDREW IS THAT YOU SON?”

“Yes, Dad. Its us. Me and the kids.” he returned. He was shaking so much in the front seat I could feel it from the back. He slowly lowered his hands to his lap, my brother and I frozen in shock.

(part 2 coming soon)

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