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lilcatdraws · 1 month

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Curiosity Killed the Cat

Ledger!Joker x Reader

Warnings: Mention of child abuse and domestic violence

Summary: One night you get a little too curious and try to pry J’s past out of him. He gives you some information but there are some things he’s just not ready to share.

Author’s Note: I’ve been piecing this one together for a while now but I really got to work last night and this morning. So here’s y’all a little Sunday snack. Aaaaaah the angst in this oneshot. Don’t hate me too much 😅

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @unholiiness

You and J were curled up together in your cozy bed one Saturday evening. J rested his head on your shoulder and hummed softly. It mimicked that of a cat purring. You basked in his warmth.

You were so lucky to be the one J chose to love. Most people wouldn’t get your relationship but you were fine with that. It was a bond that only you and J would understand.

You kept him grounded and from falling too deep into insanity. If something happened to you, he’d be lost forever.

And yet, you only knew a fraction of the complex man known as the Joker. He was still very much shrouded in mystery. Who is he? What is his name? Where did he come from? What was he like before he became a criminal?

You only knew what J told you and that wasn’t much. You knew when he was younger he grew up outside of Gotham (though you didn’t know where), his father may or may not have been abusive, he liked to skateboard, and was an outdoorsy kid. Between then and becoming the Joker, you knew nothing.

You understood that it was to keep himself a secret and, though he wouldn’t admit it, it pained him to get into his past. He wouldn’t even tell you what happened in Arkham. You hoped one day he’d tell you everything.

Why not get information out of him now? You had to start somewhere. Tonight was a good time because J was in a good mood. So you gathered your courage and spoke.

“J, what’s Arkham like?” You asked meekly.

Joker seemed surprised at your question. He was quiet for a while. Your heart sank. You hoped you hadn’t upset him. It was a sensitive topic after all.

“Uh, why do you ask?” He finally spoke.

“I-I’ve heard how horrible it is and I worry about you.” You replied.

“Well, it’s not that bad. When you’re locked up in a cell by yourself, it gives you time to think. People say that isolation makes you go crazy but that’s not true. Well, not for me at least. First of all, I’m already ‘crazy’. That’s why I’m there to begin with. Second, I like being left alone. If they forced me to socialize in the common area or go to group therapy, then I’d really lose it.”

“What did you do all day? That seems like it would get pretty boring.”

“Yeah, it did. When I wasn’t drugged all to hell, I mostly just doodled in the journal they let me have. They didn’t give me anything sharp to use of course. They gave me crayons. I guess they thought I couldn’t do any damage with it. Jokes on them, I could do a number of things with those. But I, uh, controlled myself because I didn’t want them taken. I also daydreamed a lot. When you’re that bored, you can’t help but try to escape reality for a while.”

“Did they mistreat you?”

J chuckled darkly.

Your eyes widened.

“Yes and no. My doctor seems to care about my well being. He makes sure that the nurses tend to my wounds when I’m brought in. He even had those asshole guards fired when they beat me to a bloody pulp. But then again, I was beaten, drugged constantly, they force fed me when I didn’t eat, stuck needles in me, and shoved pills down my throat. You know, the usual stuff.”

Your face softened. “I’m sorry J.”

“Pfft. What’re you sorry about? You didn’t do anything.”

“I know. But I still feel bad. Nobody should ever be treated that way.”

J sighed softly. “If only the rest of the world thought like you, y/n.”

You smiled as he hummed into your chest. It was quiet again until you remembered what you hoped to accomplish.

“What was your father like?” You asked randomly.

J stared up at you for a moment.

“Why are you asking me all these questions, bunny?”

You played with his hair and tried to figure out how to best answer him.

“I don’t mean to upset you, J. It’s just that I know so little about you. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just curious.”

“Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat.” Joker muttered.

His tone had gotten meaner. You hated when he did that. But you expected it, given that you were getting into his dark past. He was going into defensive mode.

Joker sighed.

“Fine. My father was horrible, y/n, He was a raging drunk. He beat me and my mother senselessly. One thing I remember very vividly was him breaking a glass bottle over my head. I should’ve gone to the hospital but he wouldn’t let Mom take me. I probably have a scar on my scalp.”

J paused to gather himself and his thoughts. Then he told another story.

“Another time when I was around 16 or 17, he was relentlessly beating Mom. I can’t even remember what triggered him. I could hear Mom screaming from my room. So I went out there and pried him off of her. He then turned his rage towards me but at least Mom was safe for a bit. When he finally quit kicking the shit out of me, he went to the liquor store to get more booze like nothing happened. Bastard…”

You didn’t know what to say. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“My mom was the sweetest woman ever. She didn’t deserve any of that. I tried to stop what I could. But I was so young and I could only do so much.” Joker said with a sad sigh.

“That was really brave of you. I’m sure she appreciated it.”

J just nodded. He seemed lost in thought. You had the biggest question spinning in your head but you knew to ask carefully. This might just set him off.

“J, what happened to you? Why’d you become the Joker? What changed you?”

The expression on Joker’s face made your heart break. He jerked away from you, darted into the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it. You wanted to cry. You felt so stupid.

Way to go, y/n. You scolded yourself as tears welled in your eyes.

“J, I’m really sorry! I overstepped. I shouldn’t have gotten so personal. I know how much it hurts you but I did it anyway. That was so selfish of me. I shouldn’t pressure you to open up. Please just come out. I’m so sorry.” You pleaded with him.

At first there was no response. Then after what felt like hours, you finally heard Joker groan and stand up. He unlocked the door and opened it. He glared at you.

“There’s a reason why I don’t talk about it, y/n. I hate thinking about it. But it’s all I think about. It haunts me day and night. It’s in my nightmares. I don’t want to think about it any more than I have to. It would also reveal my identity and I can’t do that. I’ll tell you everything someday. Just not right now. I’m not ready.”

“Okay. I won’t ask about it again. But I’m always here if you want to vent.”

“I know bunny and I appreciate it.” J said and pulled you into a hug. He kissed the top of your head.

“I’m so sorry.” You mumbled into his chest over and over.

“S’okay, bunny. I’ve moved on. I know you didn’t mean any harm.” J reassured you.

He crawled back into bed and you followed him. You nestled close to him, burying your head in his chest.

J didn’t answer all your questions but you learned some more about him. He put up with so much yet was so full of courage. Even if he was a murderous psychopath, you had never met anyone braver than him.

#ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #heath ledger #the dark knight #cross posted on ao3 #lilcat writes

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imagining-supernatural · 6 months

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Tomorrow

Summary: Just angst and depression, bruh. Remember, I let you guys vote for either this fic or the fluffy one and... well...

Platonic!Reader & Dean & Sam

Word Count: 1583

TW: Hospitals, ed, cancer, avoidance

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“That was the hospital,” Sam said once he hung up. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Dean with tired eyes. “Y/N’s there again.”

It hurt, but it wasn’t a surprise. “What happened?”

“She collapsed. They’re running tests now to see why.”

Y/N had been getting worse for months now. She hid it, but after it got to a certain point, to the point where the hospital got involved, she couldn’t hide it any longer. Dean grabbed his jacket and keys. “Let’s go.”

The ride was silent and familiar. It was the third time in as many months. The first time was just to pick her up. Y/N had gone to get a sleeping pill prescription, and the doctors wouldn’t let her get behind the wheel, saying that she would be a danger in her current state. The second time, she’d been so sick that her roommate insisted she go. Sam and Dean had been called because they were still on file from the first time.

And now she collapsed.

If only she would tell them what was going on with her.

*****

“They shouldn’t have called you.” I hated seeing Dean and Sam here. They shouldn’t have to take care of me. I was an adult. I could do this on my own.

Well, theoretically.

The Winchesters shouldn’t have to worry themselves about me. Sure, we grew up together, but that doesn’t mean they need to watch my destruction.

“They said you collapsed,” Dean said, pulling over a chair beside the hospital bed. God, I hated hospital beds. I hated everything about the hospital.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. I use to hate hospitals. Now though, I found a strange sort of comfort.

“I had them remove you as my emergency contacts last time. They shouldn’t have called.”

“Well, they did. Why’d you collapse?”

Why does anything collapse? Governments, buildings, organs… too much pressure.

At my lack of an answer, Sam sighed and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “We’re worried about you, Y/N.”

“They shouldn’t have called you,” was all I said. I’m an adult. I don’t need people looking after me. I should be able to do that myself. They could worry about their own problems.

“Why not?”

So far, my favorite part about living on my own was the independence. I could do whatever I liked. Whatever I wished. I just wish people would stop worrying about me because of it. I was on my own, so I should be on my own. I hadn’t talked to either Dean or Sam since the last time I was here. That was a whole month without any Y/N problems hanging off their shoulders. Now the hospital ruined that streak by calling them.

“I took you off my contact list. It’s unprofessional, really. And probably against HIPAA.”

“Why did you take us off your list?” Dean clarified Sam’s question with a sigh. He knew that I’d understood the first time. So he should also know that I wasn’t going to answer this time.

“They said they’re keeping me here overnight. You guys should go back to whatever you were doing. I’ll be fine.”

They shared a look and Sam stood up. “I’ll go find a nurse.”

He shut the door behind him. It was just me and Dean now.

“He’s going to get answers, Y/N. You might has well just tell me why you collapsed.”

Dean was raised right. Sam too. I suppose I was also raised right, but the lessons just didn’t stick for me like it did for them. The three of us. The fearsome threesome. A force to be reckoned with back in high school. Back when life was simpler.

“Have you seen the news? All those hurricanes and earthquakes? Man, I would hate to be there.”

He knew I wasn’t going to give him a real answer, so he just sighed heavily, pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes, and slid down the chair until he was comfortable enough. He was going to have to go to the chiropractor if he fell asleep like that.

“Dean, go home. Get some sleep in your bed. You have a game tomorrow that you need to be ready for.”

“Surprised you even know about that,” he mumbled, not moving.

The school sends out weekly emails about all of the events happening on campus I still get them even though I dropped out a month ago. Of course I know about the football games.

I’m not very good at being a real person lately. There’s just too much happening. Too many strings to keep track of. A to-do list that keeps getting longer and longer. More failures that keep piling up in the corner of my closet. I can’t do it all, so some things had to go. Dean and Sam just couldn’t see how much more free they were without me.

I guess they would figure that out soon enough.

“I forgot to eat,” I finally say out loud. It’s not completely the truth. I knew that I had to eat, but I just… didn’t.

Dean peeked at me from under the bill of his hat. “What?”

“That’s why I collapsed. They’re going to give me whatever I need then send me home. That’s it, okay? Nothing to worry about. You guys can go home now.” I closed my eyes, knowing that Dean was going to blow this completely out of proportion. If I had to hear it, I didn’t want to see it too.

“How do you forget to eat?”

It’s a lot of work. You gotta figure out what you want to eat, then see if you have everything to make it, then if you don’t you have to go to the store and spend money and time and be around people. And if your roommate is home, then you run the risk of having to be in the kitchen with her too and small talk is just something that I can’t do. Then, after all that hullabaloo, there was no guarantee that I wouldn’t just puke the food up in a few minutes.

It’s just easier to… not.

“Y/N, c’mon, what the hell?”

This would have been so much better if the hospital hadn’t called them. Dean was all about eating right. He cared about his body. It got him his athletic scholarships. It was his future. He was going to be in the NFL. He had to worry about that shit. And Sam? His future was all about being a personal trainer. It was his job to figure out the right way to eat and exercise and all that crap.

I was the brains. Well, I used to be. I used to think I was.

Funny how fast things change.

“Go home, Dean. Take Sam with you. The hospital’s got my back now. You have a game tomorrow.” I settle further into the bed.

“When was the last time you ate?”

The worst part of hospital beds was getting comfortable in them. It was impossible on a good day, but with wire and tubes sticking out of you? It was better to just resign yourself to a very uncomfortable night.

“Y/N.”

“And it’s not just the hurricanes and earthquakes. There was a giant tsunami too. It’s like the earth is trying to tell us that we’re not welcome anymore. Crazy.”

“I don’t care about that right now. Y/N, when did you last eat?”

I was so tired. And all this probably wouldn’t matter in a few weeks anyway. Dean had a game tomorrow. “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna call security.”

His mouth dropped open. I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore, so I stared straight ahead at the door instead.

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on with you?”

The door opened and Sam returned with a nurse and a doctor. It was never good when the doctor came back in. Especially with a nurse. I addressed them, rather than my friends. “Can you get them out of here, please? I don’t want them here.”

“Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea given—”

“Get them out of here!” I yelled suddenly, finding some hidden reservoir of energy to protect my friends from the ugliness that the doctor was about to tell me.

Dean and Sam protested, but they were too nice to fight against the nurse as she pushed them out the door. As soon as they were gone, I slumped back against the pillow.

“It spread, didn’t it?” I asked weakly.

The doctor nodded sympathetically. “The tumor in your brain that we found a month ago is growing faster than we thought, and the cancer has spread to your spinal cord.”

It didn’t take ten seasons of Grey’s Anatomy for me to know what that meant. “How long do I have?”

“It’s hard to say, but…” the doctor flipped through a few pages on my chart. It was just a stalling technique. It couldn’t be easy to tell a twenty-two-year-old girl that she was going to die soon. “I would say somewhere between three weeks and four months.”

“I can go get your friends, if you’d like. You don’t have to go through this alone,” the nurse offered.

I just shook my head. A single tear trailed down my cheek, but other than that I was able to keep all of my emotions buried deep. “No. They need to go. Dean has a game tomorrow.”

*****

SPN Tags: @missthang2734 @hugwinchester @iamnotsaneatall @angelicshinigami @youtubehelpsmesurvive @sgarrett49 @mogaruke @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @sandlee44 @goldenolaf25 @smoothdogsgirl @ocholove @valisiofdauntless @emoryhemsworth @carryonmyswansong @percussiongirl2017 @x-waywardaf-x @babynovak05 @kleinkariertebetrachter @akshi8278 @calaofnoldor @mylovelydame21 @sucker-09 @idksupernatural @miraclesoflove @i-should-prob-be-asleep @all-will-be-well-love @blueaura @anthoniastark @buckys-estrella

#dean x reader #sam x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #angst #tw: cancer #tw: hospital #tw: ed #I wrote this years ago when I was going through shit #And now that I've gone through worse shit #it turns out that I react the exact same way #but more aggressive lmao #aggressive isolation

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bringmemyrocks · 4 months

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I noticed on your about the point saying "christianity isn't inherently antisemitic". I'm not challenging you on this, but I am asking - How can you believe this? I know for me, a lot of this has to do with religious trauma. But I struggle with the idea. One of the first things I learned when I left that faith was about supercessionism, about all the nasty antisemitic undertones and overtones in the New Testament, all that. The more I learned, the more everything I had once held dear just felt appropriative, or hypocritical, or paper-thin, or downright hateful... when you cut all that out of Christianity.. what even is left? That doesn't mean that individual practitioners can't be good people, but learning all this and its history just made me want to get away from it even more. It felt profane, I didn't want to touch it or even be associated with it at all. It made me bitter and a little hateful, if I'm being honest. I'll never go back, that wasn't why I left to begin with, but I'm trying to put that bitterness behind me. Especially seeing what Palestinian Christians are going through I think I at least owe them that. Normally when I see people talking about Christianity in a positive light it just makes me uncomfortable but since you feel so strongly about this that you put it on your about, I thought I should ask what your thoughts are

Hi anon, you are welcome to challenge me however you like. I'm glad my about page made you think, and I'm glad I put that particular note there ("Christianity/Islam/atheism are not inherently antisemitic.") I'm also glad you felt comfortable coming to me about this.

This is going to be a hard pill to swallow, but you’ll be much happier once you accept:

You have been taught to see everything that threatens your interpretation of Judaism as a threat. This is wrong and makes you feel bad for no reason.

You need to ask yourself “is XYZ really a threat to me, or have I just been conditioned to think that way by my community?” (Some) evangelical Christians see the world this way, "Starbucks is doing a war on Christmas" etc.–you have been conditioned to see threats to your religion everywhere just like they have.

A good book on this is The Gift of Fear–it’s not about religion, but rather how to actually spot threats in a world that lies about where the danger really is.

This “everything is against the Jews” conditioning is intrinsically tied to Zionism. Zionism benefits from Jews feeling that they are under threat. Zionism benefits from Jews thinking Judaism as a concept/a nazi-style race is under constant attack and needs to be protected. I had to come to this realization myself. I am not exaggerating. A comic from religious zionist institution Aish HaTorah that was rightfully mocked among Jews had a picture of a sad Jew with the text “If you are Jewish, somebody out there hates you!” (literally.)

Ask yourself: who benefits from me thinking this way? Certainly not you; I can tell it’s causing you anguish.

Some gems from Jumblr which demonstrate that this type of thinking is inextricably linked to Zionism:

If you think that Christianity and Islam are “appropriations” of Judaism, boy howdy do I have something to tell you about Judaism’s relationship to ancient Canaanite religion…

This is going to get long, sorry. I’m going to use “Hebrew Bible,” “Old Testament,” and “Tanakh” interchangeably.

General notes:

The Bible is public domain. Anyone can read it, and they can interpret it however they want. Jews do not have a special claim to this text, and we have never tried to keep it secret from others.

Interestingly, some of the mistranslations in Isaiah and the Book of Psalms/Tehillim that lend the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible/Tanakh to a more Christian reading are from the Septuagint, a Jewish translation of the original text into Greek. Oops.

There is nothing inherently wrong with supersessionism in its basic definition. It just means that Christians and Muslims believe they no longer have to follow the covenant of Moses because their new covenants supersede the covenant of Moses. Muslims actually believe that everyone is born Muslim (thus the term “revert” rather than “convert”,) so Islam is technically more supersessionist than Christianity. Unlike Christianity, which takes both the Old Testament and New Testament as scripture, Islam believes that while the Bible contains some truth, it contains many errors, while the Quran does not. Nobody is harmed by this.

Regardless, Christianity is not “about supersessionism” anymore than Judaism is "about Moses"; that is simply one aspect of the religion and how some people view it.

If you’re going to split hairs over the literal text on the page instead of its interpretation, there’s a lot of condoned violence against non-Jews in the Tanakh. If you’re going to cherry pick lines from a text you don’t like, realize that the text you do like does not hold up under scrutiny, either.

The harm comes in when people use violence to impose their beliefs on others. You see this throughout history. You are not harmed by a Christian thinking “smh doesn’t anon know it’s fine to eat pork” or even "doesn't anon know that Jesus can provide eternal life?"

Groups driven practicing both Christianity and Islam have carried out large-scale violence against Jews throughout history. Christians moreso, but no tradition’s hands are clean here. There is no denying the historical connection between the institutional Christian church and antisemitism. Plenty of Christians, including Christians who are not themselves antisemitic still do not know this part of Christian history, and that is a problem.

The particular strand of evangelical Protestant Christianity that believes that the modern state of Israel must exist to bring about the second coming of Jesus is called Premillennial Dispensationalism. This particular theology is actually the opposite of supersessionism because it believes the Jewish covenant is still relevant to Christians. Thus supersessionism is neither necessary nor sufficient for antisemitism.

In my opinion, “supersessionism” is a buzzword that is used online to get Jews to refuse any engagement with Christianity. Same with “original sin”, a concept traditional Judaism actually believes in, but you won’t catch Jumblr admitting that…

Orthodox Jews refer to liberal Judaism as an “appropriation” and “twisting” of True Judaism ™ all the time. Your reaction to Christianity is just a version of that made palatable for liberal Jews. It’s just as chauvinistic. Anyone is allowed to read the Bible however they want to. They can add books in or they can take books out. You cannot control what people do in their religion, nor should you try.

*Unless they’re advocating anti-gay/antisemitic/racist laws, which plenty of people of all faiths are currently doing worldwide. Then you should say something. But the problem is the prejudice and use of violence, not the religion itself.

Assuming you were brought up in a form of Christianity that is actually antisemitic (not just one that you’re labeling as such by virtue of it believing in Jesus), I am truly sorry that that was your experience. You say: “when you cut all that out of Christianity.. what even is left?”

My heart sank when I heard that. What is left? What is left, anon? Thousands of years of history and tradition! Poetry and music and mysticism of every flavor!

I am glad you are aware that you feel bitter and hateful towards other religions. I hope that your choice of words indicates that you want to change that. In recovery, there’s a saying of “first thought, second thought.” The first thought is what comes immediately–it can be “I would be happier if I was still using.” The second thought is “actually, let me think about this, I’m doing much better now than I was when I was using.”

For you, the first thought might be “Christianity is evil and should be abolished,” but what might your second thought be?

You mention Palestinian Christians. That’s a good start. I really don’t want to sound like Bartolome de las Casas here; I do not want to sound patronizing, but truly anon, Palestinians are the kindest people you will ever meet. Most Palestinian Christians are Catholic or Orthodox, both types of Christianity that are supersessionist (again, not needing to keep kosher, the new covenant of Jesus supersedes the covenant of Moses,) yet they are kind people. And not the fake nice you get from megachurch pastors who spend their congregation’s money on private jets.

When I decided to become Jewish, I left behind one of my favorite hobbies of all time, singing from the Sacred Harp. It’s an early American folk hymn tradition that’s sung on shape notes. I thought “this is idolatry; I cannot engage with it” and I broke my own heart for no reason except my own stubbornness.

If you’re familiar with the Sacred Harp tradition, you’ll recognize the little girl in my avatar is from the documentary “Awake My Soul,” and she’s leading a song from the Sacred Harp hymnal. I describe the Sacred Harp as being similar to opera: you either love it or you hate it. I promise you can have a normal healthy relationship with Christianity. (And there are a truly astounding number of Jews involved in Sacred Harp singing.)

As a fellow convert, once upon a time I also fell for this nonsense. I now recognize that this stuff was taught to me and I can unlearn it. So can you! Block the chauvinists on Jumblr, stop listening to Tovia Singer podcasts, and appreciate the world in all its diversity. It’s what we are compelled to do as Jews.

Anyone wrestling this is welcome to talk to me on anon or on DMs. Unlearning this type of thinking is so important. Asking questions is a good first step. The fact that you reached out to an antizionist Jew shows that you’re willing to listen to alternative voices. It’ll be easier for you to get rid of this type of thinking than it is for others who can’t let go of Zionism.

I’ll leave you with my two favorite verses from the New Testament (yes, I can still have favorite verses in a holy text I don’t follow. Try reading it again and learn to appreciate it as an outsider. That can be key to dismantling your negative associations with it. Read the Jewish Annotated New Testament if you like extra commentaries and can’t stomach Christian commentaries on Christian texts yet–truly there’s a lot of fascinating stuff there.)

Mark 8:36 For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

Matthew 25 (linking because it’s too long on this already overly-long post): https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%2025%3A34-46&version=ESV

I love talking about theology. I came to Tumblr to talk about faith, not politics, but I am compelled to speak about genocide, so my posts have mostly been about Palestine of late.

I know an absurd amount about Christianity because I studied it for so long. I will gladly expand on any of the points I mentioned here. (But you don’t have to become a theologian like me to dispense with anti-Christian prejudice.)

Also, kudos to you for not spelling it “xtianity”--that always gave me a headache.

Anon, do feel free to come back if you have more thoughts. I try to modulate tone, but I can come across as quite serious even if I don't intend to. Truly, thank you for asking me this question.

Good faith responders who have read the entire post are welcome to engage. Anyone who believes Jumblr's strawman version of Christianity is accurate will be blocked.

#jewish convert #long post #christianity #judaism #conversion to judaism #i #cultural christianity #jumblr

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berberriescorner · 2 years

Text

"Keep Me Posted"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Oh, you know, just Rio being an attentive, caring, flirty, and nurturing boyfriend😍.

Warnings: The reader has a chronic illness. There are brief descriptions of what it’s like dealing with an autoimmune disease. If you have knowledge of or can relate to the topic it may or may not make you a little sad. Being the emotional ass gangsta I am, a thug tear was definitely shed in the making of this😆.

Word Count: 900+.

Personal Note: This drabble (not even sure what to call it) is very near and dear to me. Yes, it’s self-indulgent AF, but I had a disappointing doctor’s visit earlier this week😔 (which inspired me to put my feelings into my writing). I figured why not write something for not only myself but other beautiful readers who deal with the struggles of having a chronic illness? Even if you don’t personally know what it’s like, I hope you still read it and enjoy the fluffiness that Rio’s dishing.

Your bedroom was pitch black as light snores fell from your overtired body. Upset by the day's events, you had raced home to shower and fall into bed as soon as possible. Your boyfriend Rio had been pretty busy that day as well. He had still managed to take the time to shoot you a few texts. The usual: did you eat, mama? How was your day? Ending it with an, “I’ll be late. Don’t wait up. Get some rest. I love you, mama.” You had taken the time to answer each question thoroughly, giving him a quick rundown of your stressful day. Rio (a man of very few words) had simply texted his apologies for your long day. He suggested you go home, take a nice hot bath and pamper yourself. You did exactly that and went to bed not long afterward.

You had been asleep for some hours, but the brightness of your phone screen awakened you. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you rolled yourself to the edge of the bed. Eyes focused on the screen as a sleepy grin danced across your face. Sitting up, your back pressed against the headboard. With the swipe of your finger, you accepted the incoming call.

“Hi, papa. It’s so late, and the bed’s cold without you. When are you coming home, my love?”

“I’ma be home in an hour or so, mama. Sorry to wake you, but I just wanted to know if you ate. I could bring you a late-night snack if you didn’t.”

“I had a little something. I’ll take a snack so long as it’s you.”

“Come on, ma. Don’t start something you can’t finish. Bet once I get there, you’ll be out like a light. You need rest anyway, darlin’. Sleep, I’ll be home soon to take care of you.”

Rio’s assumption was correct. Not long after ending the conversation, you were fast asleep. Your body was fighting against you at every turn. Two hours later, you felt the bed shift. The intoxicating scent of your boyfriend's cologne penetrated the air. Rio sat on the side of your bed, staring at you with love in his eyes. Your eyes remained shut as you felt his hand reach out. His digits pushed a few strands of hair out of your beautiful face. He continued to gaze at you with longing. There was also a hint of worry that played upon his features. His mind drifted back to the sadness in your messages from earlier. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt you stir a bit. Your eyes fluttered open as you groggily smiled up at him.

“Hey, baby.”

“How you doin’, mama? Are you feeling any better?”

“About the same,” you frowned.

“You still upset about your appointment earlier today?”

“Yes, I just hate feeling like this. It’s one thing dealing with lupus, but the last three appointments have revealed the same issues. My anemia is only getting worse, and nobody can seem to pinpoint the exact reason for it. Pills never work, and the iron infusions are doing next to nothing. I’m just so tired all the time. It’s starting to take a toll on me mentally. The depression is starting to creep in, and I feel like I’m drowning.”

“Why did you wait all this time to tell me what was going on, mama? I’m going to have to start accompanying you on your visits again. I can’t have you holding out on me. Thought you loved me, girl,” he teased.

“Boy, stop! Love you for life, papa. You’re dealing with the stress of business and trying to get to the bag. I didn’t want to add to that stress. You get anxious anytime I’m having a rough time, and I need you focused out in these streets, babe. I can take care of myself, I promise.”

“With all due respect, darlin’. I’ll decide if I can handle it. I assure you I can. Let me take care of you, mama. You ain’t gotta deal with this all on your own. Anytime you need me, just say the word, mama.”

Your eyes had started to water, and Rio cupped your chin.

“Now, what’s all this? Why are you crying, baby?”

“Why you gotta be so damn sweet? You do such a wonderful job at keeping me grounded. Thanks for always reminding me how much you care. I love you, papa.”

“Love you with everything in me, darlin’.” He kissed your lips gently. “You’ll be straight, mama. I’ll help you weather any storm that comes your way.” He wiped away any residual tears from your face. “You good, mama? Did you take your nighttime medications?” With a nod of your head, a yawn fell from your lips, “I’ma go hop in the shower. You lay that pretty little head down and get some more sleep,” he said, kissing your lips.

“Will you come to bed and spoon me when you get out?”

“You know I got you my baby. Now sleep,” he instructed, laying a kiss on your forehead. Rio pulled the covers over you and adjusted the pillows.

After a quick hot shower, he finished up in the bathroom. He slid into bed, taking a moment to turn his phone on silent. Gently wrapping his arms around your body, he pulled you against him. Rio’s lips made contact with the back of your head. You stirred a bit as your body molded into his. Seconds later, your cute little snores resumed. Rio let out a light chuckle at the sound of the snoring. “Love you with everything in me. Goodnight, mama,” he whispered. He was caught off guard as your sleepy voice mumbled, “Love you endlessly. Night, papa,” you replied, falling back to sleep instantly. Rio’s handsome smirk played upon his features as he rubbed circles into your smooth, silky thigh until he joined you in a good night's rest.

I hope that you enjoyed it, my lovelies! It for sure did its job lifting my spirits while writing it🥹♥️. I have something similar in the works for Chris Evans. “Keep Me Posted” will be turned into a series of drabbles called “Daily Struggles”(shoutout to my twinnie @nightlywords7 for coming up with the series title💓). Comments and reblogs would be greatly appreciated.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics

Gif credit to the owner. My apologies I actually got it from Pinterest. If it’s yours don’t hesitate to inbox me and I’ll tag you for credit.

Tagging:

@nightlywords7 @4everbrookemarie @amorestevens @rio-reid-whoreee

@sunshine-flower @1andonlytashae @igigix @crimsonheart01 @myownworstenemydw @novaniskye @lemmewritesomeish @realhotgurlshit @oya16

@my-rosegold-soul @hihellogoodbyebruh @thehomierobbstark @ziayamikaelson

@ashmonet @mama-sunny1

@fkagoddess @doloreschanal @captainwithoutmakingitlove @tbugger01

@mrsmontanalol @blessedboo

@naughtyslashers @peaches007

@whore4-horror @gardenof-venus

@minton131 @aizawash0e

@90sisthenew80s @cjricks98

@skyesthebomb @tashawar

@keaboyd21 @gabbywontlose

@est1887

#berberriescorner #daily struggles series #keep me posted #rio x black!reader #rio x woc!oc #rio x reader #rio x y/n #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #rio good girls #good girls rio #manny montana

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mostlymaudlin · 1 year

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An Attempted Explanation of Andrew’s “Manic Pills”

One of the things that bothers me about AFTG is Andrew’s medicine. The way most of the characters talk about court-mandated psychiatry and sobriety and mania is a questionable and often harmful representation of what it’s like to experience mania/hypomania — which like, it’s fiction, that’s fine, but it’s also something that I take a lil personally. So I’ve decided to try to legitimize the whole thing for myself, just because I can!

Necessary to note: I’m not a medical professional, a lawyer, etc. I’m usually a pretty good fact-checker, but I could definitely be wrong abt stuff, and I’d love for you to tell me if I am. I ran a lot of this by the lovely @the-greater-grief, who does have a medical background and also inspired me with this analysis they did on Andrew’s mental health. They were really helpful in explaining a lot of the more technical drug information, so they’re largely responsible for most of the theory that makes sense lol. But, they are also not responsible for me saying things that are wrong, lol! Alsooooo, I’ve been in the fandom for less than a year so it’s possible I’m saying stuff people have said before. Idc. I’m having fun reinventing the wheel lmfao. Okay, onwards!

The post has two parts:

Lovingly dismantling a lot of the bullshit Neil tells us in the books

Setting up a more realistic version of Andrew’s mental health situation

Apologies in advance, this got long-winded. Let’s do this!

Dismissing Neil’s framing

AFTG is told from Neil’s perspective, so we as readers are limited to the things he knows and understands. We know that Neil is often unreliable, and as perceptive as he can be, he makes a lot of questionable assumptions that he internalizes as fact.

This is what he tells us, rather crudely:

Andrew tried to kill some guys, because he might be a psychopath/sociopath.

Rather than being sent to prison, he was court-mandated to take drugs that make him “manic”/less likely to kill other people.

The manic pills make him crazy and also make him sick, to the point where the characters refer to him as “sober” when he is unmedicated.

The withdrawal is severe enough that his psych wants him to be hospitalized to come off them.

We learn all this about Andrew’s treatment from three sources: Information Neil read before he even joined the Foxes, Nicky’s exposition dumps, and Andrew’s actual behavior. The bullshit mostly comes from the first two items on this list, because Andrew never cares to explain much of his situation to Neil. And we can actually brush all of it off pretty easily.

Neil builds most of his perception of Andrew’s treatment on top of information from articles he read about Kevin’s transfer to Palmetto State. These articles were unkind — the Exy world was upset that Kevin was leaving the Ravens, and Andrew was painted in a cruel and probably inaccurate way. Neil mentions an article headlined “The Prince & the Pauper”... I personally would not take anything from that article seriously.

Some of this bullshit is corroborated by Nicky, a 20-something year old jock majoring in marketing. When Andrew was sentenced, we can guess that Nicky (still basically a teenager himself) was very scared that his cousin, who he is responsible for, was going to get sent to prison. Based on the way he talks about mental health in general, I wouldn’t consider him to be an expert on the nitty-gritty of psychiatry. He just saw the outcome of the trial, which was not prison, yay! and instead involved some kind of pills that made Andrew way more social. Also, as much as I think Nicky tries, he doesn’t really get Andrew — he thought Andrew was straight, and then he thought he was hate-fucking Neil. He’s not a reliable source when it comes to judging how Andrew’s brain works/how he is affected by his treatment.

This leaves Andrew’s behavior, because he never talks about his mental health except to say that he’s “crazy” and that he is not a sociopath. When he’s on the medicine, his behavior includes an elevated mood, a short attention span, and trouble curbing his impulses. When he doesn’t take his medicine on time, he experiences withdrawal (nausea, fatigue, etc), and feeling ill seems to curb some of his mood elevation enough to let him think with more clarity. When he’s off it, he is able to shut down his emotional reactions to things, though he still exhibits flashes of the rage, depression, and zingy one-liners from his behavior in the first two books.

Also, the only people who actually seem to understand Andrew’s mental health treatment are Andrew himself, Bee, and probably Wymack. Aaron might also have a better handle on it all because he’s pre-med, and also he understands Andrew enough to clock that he is gaga for Neil lol.

Okay. Bullshit? Gone.

A proposed alternate story

Once upon a time, some homophobes started beating up Andrew’s cousin and the only legal guardian that didn’t treat him like utter shit, so he went feral on them.

He gets arrested, and somewhere along the line the courts determine that his violence stems from mental illness. Rather than being sentenced to prison, he gets some kind of probation that mandates he engage in mental health treatment. The psychiatrist he sees at the time determines that he has depression — which, like, they’ve definitely seen his self-harm scars, so this is a fair assumption — and he is prescribed an antidepressant.

Now’s a good time to mention that no one would ever intentionally prescribe something to induce mania in a patient. Mania is a supremely dangerous state. People get hospitalized to get out of a manic episode. Whenever I even inch toward it, my therapist and psych are like, “CALL ME!!!!” It also would do nothing to curb violence — the opposite, actually, if the manic person often has a hard time holding themselves back from hurting themselves and others. If you look at Andrew’s behavior in the first two books, I don’t think it would even qualify as full-blown mania. He sleeps, he fulfills his responsibilities, he doesn’t seem to have any delusions of grandeur. His symptoms align better with hypomania, which is less severe and accounts for the things we noted before (mood elevation, short attention span, irritability, impulsiveness). I also think a lot of the stuff Andrew does that is attributed to his medicine is probably just Andrew being Andrew — because as Aaron once said, “it wasn’t the drugs that made him crazy.” (I wrote more about this once in an Andrew character study I did.)

So, the antidepressants would’ve been prescribed to treat the depression, which hypothetically could’ve made Andrew so hopeless and full of rage that he was constantly on the verge of flipping his shit on people. There are plenty of antidepressants that will make you sick/be less effective if you fuck with your dosing schedule, and all the alcohol he drinks probably doesn’t help either. Still, the medicine would just treat depression. HOWEVER! If Andrew actually has bipolar disorder (:D!!!), then some antidepressants do have a risk of inducing mania/hypomania!

It should’ve been obvious that Andrew’s antidepressant was not working as intended. But I doubt Nicky, Andrew, and Aaron had great health insurance before they enrolled at Palmetto, so Andrew’s court-mandated mental health provider was probably like, “cool, not trying to kill people anymore, we’re good.” A good provider like Bee would clock that Andrew had been misdiagnosed, and she’d want to adjust his medicine. But this leads to the final part of the theory — actually suggested by the brilliant Grimm — which also could explain how Andrew came to trust Bee.

If Bee diagnosed Andrew with bipolar, she would want to switch him over to lithium, which is the most common bipolar medicine. I’ve never actually been on lithium, and while I’ve heard it can be really effective, it definitely has a bad reputation — some people say it makes them feel like a “zombie.” Fatigue/dizziness/drowsiness are known potential side effects, especially when you’re adjusting to changed doses — and anyone who’s ever been on a psych med knows that it takes a while to get the dose right. I’m guessing (justified) control freak Andrew Minyard would not be down to risk feeling like a zombie.

(Sidenote: people with bipolar II also get put on lamotrigine, which specifically manages low moods, but from what I can tell it wouldn’t have been common in the mid-2000s. it was only approved for bipolar treatment in 2003.)

Maybe Bee made him a deal: He can stay on the antidepressant, which is not working but is also not the most dangerous thing, as long as he fully commits to their talk therapy sessions so that he can learn how to cope with his symptoms. This is similar to the deal Wymack struck with Andrew. He tends to trust the small handful of people who have given him agency.

Alright, that’s the theory! Andrew has bipolar disorder. He’s not on the right meds. The courts are not doing silly illegal things (well, not in this case anyway), and the jocks of PSU are the real stereotypes here.

Because at the end of the day, this is a tale as old as time: People with mental illness are easily made out to be the villain.

#aftg #my writing

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pendragonsclotpole · 3 months

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i’ve watched the first three episodes of the pjo series and then decided to wait. ostensibly this is because once season one is done i can binge it all in one go like i read the book, but i have a confession to make. i can’t stand to watch it.

hear me out: i read these books when i was in grade school. tlt? fifth grade. the rest of the original series? powered me through sixth grade and into seventh. hoo? eighth grade and first year or two of high school. i was a baby. percy jackson and his friends were either my age or older than me and doing shit i could not even comprehend.

i’ve seen a lot of discourse online about the changes made in the show and how they don’t align with how some fans remember the books, and i think that criticism perfectly echoes my feelings on this series. when i read pjo, i saw myself in the characters and saw my interactions with people older than me in their interactions with adults or older characters. case in point sally and luke.

i’m gonna have to make another post about my feelings for show!sally vs book!sally (tldr: book!sally reminds me of how i thought of the adults in my life and their complicated relationships with other adults as a kid, show!sally shows me that things were never so clear cut, surviving/being a survivor is mastering how to balance on a tight tope into adulthood, and sometimes the monsters we remember from our childhoods are a lot more pathetic than we ever realized. don’t even get me started on how i spent my whole life thinking of sally as a woman in her late twenties/early thirties with nothing in her life put together. seeing her in the show was a slap to the face for that notion, because sally seems so much older, but also so much closer to my age than percy in terms of maturity if not actually and what does that mean for me?)

but now about luke. jfc he looks so young. i think it was so easy to demonize luke because he was older, described as college aged, and perfect and popular and a mentor. he felt so responsible, so caring that the betrayal from him in tlt felt so much worse because as a reader i inherently related to percy, annabeth and thalia.

but growing up is realizing i’m now older than book!Luke in tlt and if i was faced with the loneliness of not having at least one good parent, i might be just as bitter as him. heck i do have one good parent, and i think i’m just as bitter as him about somethings. i’m older than him and somehow still feel so much younger. and also, show!luke’s actor is so young looking! i didn’t expect that to be such a hard pill to swallow, realizing the actor is actually 19 made me want to roll up into a ball and cry because fuck, did i look that young at 19??? i’m still in my early 20s, but somehow you do so much growth in the span of those years that just blows my mind. it isn’t fair and it feels like loss and at the same time, i think i understand why rick riordan and the rest of the writing/production team made the choices they did. on the one hand, they could have stuck to the books as faithfully as possible and recreated word for word the story we remembered from when we were kids, but on the other hand, they had the chance of portraying the story as it was and now would be now that we’re the grown ups.

i’m gonna finish the season, eventually, but i don’t yet have the emotional maturity to not hate every little change.

#luke pjo #pjo headcanon #pjo #pjo disney+#pjo tv show #percy pjo #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjoverse #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #luke castellan #sally jackson #rick riordan #the mortifying ordeal of growing up #and realizing you are the adult

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spooksforsammy · 2 months

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Despite my age I still need help with many tasks that my four year old niece can independently do.

I have low-medium support needs closer to the medium side, which is why just say medium support needs. I need help with some Badls and just about all Iadls

Here’s an idea on what it means for me to be medium support needs. This is a extremely simplified version of explanations

Badls:

Basic activities of daily life are

Eating (moving food to and from mouth) dressing, personal hygiene(washing, doing hair, shaving ect) , toilet, and transferring(moving from one place to another)

I need help with personal hygiene, toilet and occasional dressing

Personal hygiene: I need intensive prompting to shower, change clothes and need help with shaving. When it comes to showering, have be told multiple times, over and over and over and some days that’s not even enough. Something have to have someone turn on shower and get towel and clothes and tell me to get in.

During the school week I brush my teeth on a schedule, so come weekend and breaks have to reminded often do so. Middle school had be reminded brush teeth no matter day or week so is improvement and hopefully one day can remember do no matter schedule or day.

Washing hair is problem not only because hate water in hair and face but because how many steps are. I’m still deeply afraid to wash hair for multiple reasons and often convince sister do for me. Even times where managed do self, did wrong to point where Sister still have go in and rewash. Have thick hair so have scrub correctly and in the shower freeze up. Hard even open eyes.

Tolieting: when say need help don’t really mean emptying but getting there so can empty. Can’t tell when need use bathroom until really bad so every few hours am told go try. If not told use bathroom will hold until no option but use, so do pee self at times.

Dressing: this isn’t a huge problem of mines, but if not told change clothes will keep wearing same ones. This also because memory problems, so don’t remember if already worn or not. The only thing really allowed rewear is jackets because safe jackets always wear when out.

IADLS:

Instrumental Activities of Daily Living are

using the telephone, shopping, preparing meals, housekeeping, using transportation, taking medication(s), and managing finances. I need help with all these.

Using the telephone:I don’t need help using the telephone in sense of getting on and off phone or tablet, but when come to phone calls or staying safe (not giving out too much information that personal). My boyfriend has access to all my accounts and monitors them to make sure no one does anything weird or that can ruin my safety. My boyfriend and sister makes my phone calls, helps with emails (saying what type, what not do ect) and not able schedule things by self.

Shopping: im not allowed to leave the house by myself unless it’s to go to my boyfriend’s house or to the bus stop (both times it’s a route where either can be watched or someone family know and trust can keep eye on me. So even if along am being monitored). Im not allowed in stores alone as they are huge and i wonder. I also have low awareness and am not aware when danger is around or happening. Am allowed go shopping with others but that’s just walking around.

Transportation: this is also appart of low awareness. Can’t ride bus alone, can’t drive. Can’t even ride bike. Not fully aware world around so wouldn’t know where go. Also get overwhelmed on buses around many people and shutdown; shutdown ruin sense of awareness more.

Medication: is memory problem and can’t tell when need take. For example pain killers, can’t tell when bad enough to take or when in pain and need take. Haven’t been on prescription in years but was on, nana had bring pill to me take otherwise wouldn’t remember.

Finances: don’t know how manage money. Don’t know how much money apps work and can’t count. Couldn’t understand how much need spend how much have. When come cash, lose often because forget where place. Also struggle with saving up, so when someone in charge, can’t spend just because have. Sister and boyfriend in charge of managing for me but try help.

Meal prepping: I don’t fully understand how to meal prep and am not fully trusted around the stove, oven and knives. When using them, have to have supervision otherwise will cut or burn or otherwise hurt self. Don’t understand shouldn’t do certain things (example: made caramel, boyfriend was in kitchen watching make and was stirring wrong but didn’t know was doing wrong and burned hand and thigh). And certain things shouldn’t go certain places. Also can’t stay focused long enough do and stims and sensory issues get in way.

Housekeeping: can clean up space but once again have be told. And even if clean, one boyfriend help withe everything clean up and someone else (sister or oldest brother) have go back in and actually clean up. Am working on it but is sense of don’t understand what need be clean what okay and remembering where everything go so put in spot think belong. Prompting isn’t enough to clean up room though, to many steps involved and remember what belongs where is something struggle with deeply. Also includes sensory like having touch multiple things, sounds and smells. Stims also get in way to point where not able do.

And something didn’t include in alot of these (even if should have) is fact that sort of ‘freeze up’ when having do them. Like with bathing, get stuck like unable move when need shower. Even if want move can’t, and in some of these times can’t even move mouth or get brain think. Just stand there.

Taking baths would help but feel held down when taking them. When sit in water unable move, feel like sinking and being held down at same time. Start chocking and gasping for air like breathing not possible.

In other cases, body and mind feels like just… broke and not able do anything anymore. Will sit there unresponsive until body ready continue on with task or thought of task disappeared.

For alot of Iadls not able actually do self so someone else doing or going in and redoing for me. I’m working on some ( shopping, telephone) but even if able get down, someone else will always need be around help.

#speech4amy #actually autistic #disabled poc #disability #autism #neurodivergent #medium support needs #neurodiversity #higher support needs #actually autism

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catgirlforeskin · 6 months

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The "egg" again.

I assume that my old ask (insecure anon) is buried forever, so I may as well restate it here.

Thank you, being a girl is cool, but it feels like lying. Girls love having boobs, and I don't want anything bigger than AAA, if anything at all. Some girls even want SRS, though you are different*. And girls don't say shit I said. I know that not everyone knows since age 5, but living until 17.5 years without feeling different is beyond pale. Like I felt different from other boys, and since at least 14 I considered myself more feminine than them (de facto I was always more feminine, but I didn't think that it was a good thing), but, as I said, I was completely fine making "relatable" memes about boyhood. I did like to consider myself more of a girl, especially when doing quizzes, but still.

(*Side note, but I went on r/MtF, and it feels like some girls straight up consider those without bottom dysphoria just crossdressers, they don't say it, but my feminine intuition tells me this. I guess it's only tumblr that celebrates girlcock)

So saying "Surprise, I am a girl now!" feels like lying. And I don't want to be a liar.

Saying that I am nonbinary also feels like just wanting to be special. I don't believe that someone can be raised in the West and not think that androgyne is a superior form of human being. So it sounds like "I am not just a boy, I am more special. Don't look that I don't socially transition, I am not a boy, trust me".

The label that I fancy somewhat is eunuch, because it doesn't make me sound like an attention seeker, but there are real eunuchs, and they are different, so it's not very chivalrous of me.

So yes, I am just sitting here, no idea who am I, no social transition, does it even matter?

17.5 is honestly an early age to realize for trans women. I personally know women who didn’t realize until their mid-20s or 30s, and there’s lots of trans people who realize at every stage of life.

Reddit trans women, especially ones who post on the big trans subreddits, generally are assimilationists and hate everyone who don’t want to assimilate like them. They’re cowardly idiots and I don’t care about any bad things that happen to them.

You keep going “well real women don’t do or want X Y and Z and I do so clearly I’m not a real woman” when like. Those things also apply to a majority of women. The enforced cishet standards of womanhood fucking suck and most women chafe against at least parts of them.

Theres plenty of women who like having small or no breasts and plenty of women who didn’t realize until late in life and all this other shit, and saying “well obviously I’m not a woman if I’m like that” is just kinda stupid.

Honestly it’s part of why I don’t hang out around a lot of recently cracked girls because they’re often so mired in that “I’m not a real girl because X” dysphoria shit when like. Half the people around them still have the trait they’re complaining about. Idk it’s just like, take your damn girl pills and shut up lol, have some lesbian sex and get over it

#asks

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hxrringtons-blog · 2 years

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Baby I’m Sorry

Steve Harrington x Henderson Reader

warnings: soft angst, profanity, mentions of cheating, sick reader.

“Please look at me baby, I can’t bare the thought of you being angry with me I love you to much.” Steve whispered lifting your chin up

“Should have thought of that before you ruined us Steve. And now because of you we can never be together..” You said avoiding your eyes

“Please don’t say that you don’t mean it y/n, don’t say things you know you can’t come back from.” He sighed

“Do you uh… do you still love her?” You asked sadly

“What the fuck. Of course not y/n I fucking told you she came on to me! I only have eyes for you baby! I put her in the past long ago.” Steve yelled growing frustrated

“I don’t know what to believe Steve. I need time, time to think. . ” Y/N muttered

“Can I kiss you… just one last time. Please baby.” Steve begged

You leaned in and wrapped your arm around his waist and slowly leaned up, until your lips touched. Giving you both the feeling you both had been craving. Finally breaking the kiss you stand up and walk away. Leaving behind a very broken Steve.

——————

2 weeks later y/n and Steve have been completely ignoring each other. Steve giving y/n all of the time she needs. But he was starting to grow mad, he needed you he didn’t know how long he can keep this up for.

He currently sat at your house hanging out with Dustin. On a rainy October day. He so badly wanted to go to your room and check on you but decided against it. You wanted your space and that’s what he was gonna give you.

“Hey what’s your sister up to?” Asked Steve needing to know if you were okay.

“She’s sad about something but she won’t tell me what. She also hasn’t even left her room in weeks! And she’s sick with this stupid cold! And she’s making me do everything for her like I’m her maid! Could you believe that shit! ” Dustin said in a annoyed disbelieved tone.

Steve and y/n decided it was better they didn’t tell anyone they were on a break just wanting to deal with it only themselves without anyone else’s intakes. But god hearing what dustin said was breaking Steve’s heart over and over again he didn’t like the fact that he hurt you. And the fact that you needed him and he couldn’t be there for you.

“Dustin!” You yelled from your room followed by a cough.

“What do you want now!” Yelled Dustin back growing annoyed with you.

“Can you please come here I and bring my medicine and some water I feel like shit.” You yelled from the other room.

“Yea, yea whatever.” Muttered Dustin

“If you want I can take it to her bud just tell me where her medicines at and I’ll bring it to her.” Said Steve needing to finally see you.

“That would be so good I need a break from her cranky ass. It’s on the Top cabinet to the left.” Answered Dustin. Steve then went to the kitchen and grabbed the necessities making his way to your room with a heavy heart. Steve then knocked on the door making sure it was okay to come in.

“Come in dumbass” you said thinking you were speaking to your brother. When Steve walked into the room he saw you tucked under the covers shaking and his heart shattered into a million pieces. You removed the blanket from your head ready to tell Dustin to hand you the pill. When you saw him.

“Baby..” Steve whispered not liking the sight of your tear stained eyes. And your red stuffy nose.He then moved closer to you grabbing your hands and kissing it as you lay.

“I’m sorry. I know you think I cheated. And I promise you I didn’t and if you want to continue to believe that you can as much as it’s killing me inside. But just please let me help you.” Steve begged you nodded just wanting to be close to him and his warmness.

“I know Steve she told me that she was drunk and she kissed you about an hour ago I was gonna call you but I hated myself for not trusting you. And I’m also sick and so cold. I could barely move without my head killing me.” You whispered the last words

Once Steve gave you your medicine he removed the covers and got into bed with you and wrapped his arms around you trying to get you as warm as possible. You were the love of his life. And nothing not even Nancy wheeler was gonna change that.

(not my best writing but just something I had saved)

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut

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manicpixxiedreambitch · 4 months

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I need a second opinion. So I’m writing a book, right? In the book, two young children are sent to live with their aunt and her wife after their own parents were deemed abusive and sent to jail for drug use. The children do not fully understand that their parents were abusive, nor do they understand their parents did drugs. I thought it would be a good running joke/essential part of the story that these children suspect that their aunt and her wife are fae. This originally started when their mother (who was homophobic) bitterly said that their aunt and her “roommate” (aka her wife) were fairies (in the derogatory term). The children, not understanding the concept of homophobia or the fact that their mother was using a slur, thought she was calling them fairies in the fairytale book kind of way. The older sibling, the boy, is skeptical of this and says that fairies don’t exist, while his sister has the opposite perspective. The children throughout the story seem to suspect their aunts are fairies and debate over this constantly. The aunts’ behaviors and lifestyle in this story also seems to reinforce their belief, because the children don’t quite understand that normal parents don’t abuse their kids. The aunts live in a beautiful cottage with a lovely garden (it has a sign planted near the mailbox that says “Welcome to the Fairy Cottage”) and it’s in a beautiful small town (one of those small towns where everyone knows everyone) with beautiful and unique people who are kind. The children are pushed to believe their aunts are magical fairies on accident.

Things their aunts do that are apparently “magical”:

One of them has a prosthetic leg

They are both good cooks (their parents only ever used microwave meals) and use herbs in their cooking to help the children’s health.

When the little girl wet herself one of the aunts ran her a bath at the temperature she wanted and put a “potion” in the bath that calmed her down (it was lavender soap) without yelling at her.

One of the aunts is an amazing singer. The other plays piano. They both love to dance. At one point the piano plays itself while they dance. (Its one of those pianos with a self-playing mode)

They understand when the little girl references her synesthesia.

They have a “witch shed” in the back yard. At one point when the little girl is sick, one makes her some tea that helps her feel a little better.

Their house has a bit of a Howls Moving Castle vibe.

They are patient with the children and don’t scream.

One has ADHD and shows symptoms

Upon realizing that the little girl has autism, they took her to a doctor/psychiatrist and got her diagnosed and medicated for it, which helped her. She thinks the pills are magic because they help her function better and she didn’t have too much access to medicine with her parents.

They sewed the leg back on a stuffed animal the older one ripped.

Anyway, last year when I said what the running joke is one of my friends got upset and said that it wasn’t something to joke about (even though this is not meant to be disrespectful or hurtful or offensive, but rather a piece of commentary on the world in the eyes of children) I of course, defended this because I myself am bisexual and thought it would be interesting and a little humorous. Keep in mind, the word fairy is only referenced to have been used as a slur once. The rest of the time it is used, it references the mythical creature with wings. I love the book I am writing so much and this piece of the story is a big part of why I started writing it in the first place, and I would hate for this storyline to have a negative effect on the readers. Should I change it? Is it considered offensive if it’s displayed like this? I’m not trying to make fun, or say that using slurs is funny and okay at all. I just think fairies are neat and children have wild imaginations and lesbians are cool.

#book writing #second opinion

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sunnyupsidedown · 8 days

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Thoughts On: The Sunshine Court

by Nora Sakavic [goodreads]

Aka, if I didn't put myself on a social media blackout, these would have been my live tweets. Spoilers below.

Gosh. What if Jeremy starts to hate Kevin for not doing 'enough' to help Jean. That’d probably hurt him so bad lmao Though I don't really thing Jeremy gives off those vibes. He's too sunny.

Also, now I’m thinking of Jeremy being a very normal kid with a normal background completely unprepared to help someone with absolutely massive amounts of trauma. Like. This kid being like, look at my normal jock life and then suddenly is exposed to the dark underbelly of organized crime.

Like. With Andrew and Neil, Neil was already familiar and Andrew at least is familiar with how bad law enforcement is so it’s all a non-issue. Jeremy though… what’s his story???

Jean over here probably texting with T9 on a flip phone

Which fox uses T9, which one taps the number until it gets to the letter they want, and which one has a phone with a keyboard?

Have I mentioned that I love Renee? I feel like she’s often seen as an uwu good girl Christian. But like. She’s so badass. I think she said it herself that she’s a bad person doing her best to be good and you really get that with the “smile that doesn’t reach her eyes”. Fucking love her.

Okay the uni president thing is actually kind of funny. Because I work in an athletic department and it reminds me of when the president requested access to the team practice schedules so I was in charge of setting up an account in our messaging app with the instructions to grant him access but with absolutely no power to do anything else

Do you think Renee will put "Destabilized Evermore leading to its eventual downfall" on her resume when she applies to the Peace Corps? I know this is not how it works but....

We’re going to see the reaction to Riko’s death from Jean’s POV!!! I wrote a ficlet about this!! It’s gonna be so cool to see what really happens!!

Wtf Jean’s 19?!?!

I'm saying this like everything that happened to him wouldn't have been just as horrifying if he were Kevin's age. But like. WTF??? He's Neil's age!!

LMAO everyone wants to choke Kevin out

“You were injured in a scrimmage” DAMN. I did not expect that from Abby. She's so done with Jean's evasions

I was being kind of mean to Kevin earlier and now I’m going to cry. He was just doing his best too :( what can you do when you’ve been raised in the system?

Kevin, Neil, and Jean are in the idiot exy trio

It’s so fascinating to know that this was the version where Jean lived because you can see the parts where his life could have ended. Like if Abby left the pills. If Jean made it back to Evermore. If Wymack didn’t threaten Tetsuji.

The way that they’re (Neil is) playing 5D exy mafia chess is so extra 😭

Everyone really looking to Neil for their courage. Neil was brave so I can be brave (or at least follow him). What would Neil do?

Do you think the other exy coaches know exy was built on blood? Or at least that Evermore was?

Jean and Kevin in the corner at the party full of Ravens: They don’t know the extent of Riko’s violence

I’m starting to realize that Jean is a lover... [Redacted: This is getting it's own post because I have feelings about this.]

JEREMY!! HELLO!! I DON'T KNOW YOU. ARE YOU DEPRESSING TOO?

Jeremy is so normal. This is going to be so good. He’s literally going to be like “why did you say it like that? You know that’s fucked up right?” Call it like it is my dude!!

How the hell did they get the seniors on board with a smaller line up? They’re giving up a chance at a championship run... Ah.

Oh. He’s rich?? Jeremy is rich? With a butler? Is he secretly going to be tied to the west coast mafia? And taking Jean on will create a bond between east and west?

OH HE’S POLITICIAN RICH. Damn. You know there's blood money somewhere

Are you telling me that the sunshine court is a nickname between Kevin and Jean (and maybe some others? I don't remember if it was ever mentioned in the other books) for USC? And it’s typically called the Gold Court? Cause if so, they’re soooo starved

Do you think Jean knows (or remembers) how to use money? Since he’s been locked up in the Nest for so long? How many social norms has he forgotten? How awkward is he going to be relearning them?

Oh god. Jean found out from Jeremy! Holy shit I was not expecting that. Damn. Also. He's alone :(

Renee and Jean 😭

I’m so glad they talked about redshirting. I was SO confused why they could go five years when the rule is 5 years to compete 4 seasons.

Radiology equipment in their exy stadium?? Man I forget how rich some schools are

Watch Jean break out in hives the moment he gets on clothes that are outside the monochrome color scheme

Oooo Jeremy, show me your spine. I want to see him mad. I want to see him lose control.

And then I forgot I was taking notes because I was too absorbed. When is the next book supposed to come out again?

#the sunshine court #tsc spoilers #aftg #thoughts on #m

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deeaselriel · 9 months

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Everyone has been treating Elriels SO BAD and disgustingly over the years, and when we defend ourselves we are painted as the “mEaN gUyS”. I’d dare to say that we are the “saints” of this fandom. I know there are some Elriels that can come off more rude than they should, but this is life. Nothing is perfect.

But a hard pill for y’all to swallow is that Elriels are usually soooo peaceful, minding their business and just enjoying their CANON content. They create edits, fan arts and post about Elriel not harming anyone, but then YOU KNOW WHO comes after us, ON OUR ACCOUNTS, ON OUR PRO ELRIEL VIDEOS, PICS OR THEORIES, that have absolutely NOTHING to do with their crackship(s), and spew their venom. They speak so many lies that don’t even come close to what is the CANON content of the books. They insult us and call us names, they bullied some creators SO BADLY they refuse to do Elriel fan arts anymore. YOU ALL ARE DISGUSTING AND I PRAY TO GOD FOR KARMA TO HIT SO HARD! I myself was a victim of y’all’s bullying when I did NOTHING! I just appreciated my Elriel and put facts on the table. Y’all told me I deserve to be R@PED just like Elain deserves!!!!

We, Elriels, have been put in a corner by THE ENTIRE FANDOM! This mob mentality made y’all treat Elriels like people with some kind of disease and it’s so sad honestly.

I’m not even being biased when I say that Elriels are usually very good people minding their business and the other stans of those 2 ships (y’all know) are constantly attacking us and making fun of us out of nowhere. They keep making content about Elain making fun of her, but yeah, they don’t like her. Lol. Y’all are so obsessed and have such internalized misogyny it’s scary. Especially when El didn’t do anything wrong, besides maybe the thing with Feyre that she’s making up for it. She’s a saint compared to many others in that serie, yet… she’s hated for liking to bake and plant flowers. Make it make sense. 😶

I think it’ll be ok for everyone to acknowledge WHO exactly is the most toxic in this fandom; who’s constantly attacking us for PUTTING FACTS on the table, who’s bullying artists into being scared to draw Elriel anymore, who’s harassing SJM at this point with a crackship that has 0 buildup. WHO IS SENDING DEATH THREATS to people so randomly just because, who is wishing R@PE on REAL people? The list is so long I just can’t…

I always knew that the mob mentality is forever going to be present, but OH MY GOD. These people that hate Elriel and ship the other ship just because “everyone does”, those going into the books already shipping Gw*nriel because “some content creators of TikTok said they’re sooooo endgame”, THOSE BIG ACCOUNTS THAT SPREAD ELAIN HATE JUST BECAUSE IT’S “TRENDY”. Y’all are SO pathetic; I wonder if you can think on your own.

Should I also talk about how often y’all don’t acknowledge what’s in those books related to Elriel? There are tons of evidence y’all pretend it’s not there and have THE NERVE to say Az only wants El for s*x. Bro, Feyre when she couldn’t read would’ve understand these books (and Elriel) better than y’all. 🤓 The delusional world y’all live in makes me laugh. What’s even funnier is when you are the ones making fun of US, when we have all our proof that Stands with us. WE ARE ON THE CANON SIDE, if we can say it this way.

Literally at this point, STOP being so toxic, and let Elriels IN PEACE. Acknowledge that Az and El have feelings for each other and that EVERYTHING points to them as endgame, and even SJM herself said that “it’s obvious”. None of us would’ve have any problem if y’all only acknowledged that Elriel is for the next book, and then go on with your day and make X head canon ships. It’s not harming to ship Az with someone else for fun, but when it comes to the ACTUAL BOOK & CANON, the answer it’s only Elriel. Just stop lying to yourselves. And stop playing the victim when Elriels have been like in prison for many years, being pushed aside and all. WE ARE THE VICTIMS OF THIS WHOLE FANDOM. The fact that I’m scared to even write a comment positive about Elriel or my girl Elain because I just know someone’s gonna say something “ironic” or bash me for whatever reason, says A LOT. And it’s the case for soooo many Elriels.

One last thing, I know we are reading fantasy books, but at least don’t make a fantasy of a couple the main talk of this fandom, lol. The couple should actually have “history”, build up & hints/ foreshadowing. CANON SCENES. And only Elriel has them. BYE. 🩷🌸💙🦇

#acotar #elriel #pro elriel #elriel endgame #elriel supremacy #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #pro azriel

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radio-to-trenchcoat-demons · 3 months

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So i revised it but also added some more. after this update the next chapter is 'an epiphany'

*spanish and protuguese is in red like always*

*text conversations are in blue (yes i changed it yellow is hard to read*

GHOST STORIES

By Unt1t3d

Position for Hire: “J”

I don't like offices. I don’t know if it's because they mean that something uncomfortable is being discussed or that I didn’t organize anything myself, knowing that contents are probably where they don’t belong. This tossed here, That cast aside there. Papers unfiled and wrecked, a sea of words spilling out across the desktop. Pencils and pens scattered amongst filing cabinets and drawers. But this office I hated the most. Not only was I uncomfortable, I was being pestered about “How I felt” and, “What I should do to get on a healthier path in life”. I’ve never liked the ‘this is a safe space’ shit they rant.

I didn’t need to get healthier mentally, I needed to get better physically. I needed money. “Justice, are you alright?” The Therapist was nagging me, I noticed. “Huh? Oh, Yeah. I agree.” I spaced off a lot so I just pretended I knew what anyone was saying in a conversation. “I was just saying that you should get your work papers in order. I think a job might be just what you need to get yourself in the right headspace.” She said like she was talking to a toddler, writing notes on her notepad. Wow, I’m touched, she’s concerned. Aren't they all? I’ve had enough of the sympathetic ‘Are you alright?’s. Honestly, a ‘you're a crazy mother fucker’ once in a while is perfectly fine to balance out the chaos.

“So is your medication working? Do you still see…them?” Oh she's talking about the shadowy friends of mine! Yeah, I still fucking see them even though you have me on enough meds to call me a drugaddict. In fact, I saw one on Tuesday, SUSAN. I’ve always been able to see them even when I was younger, and they blamed it on a very rare, very young case of dementia. It was the reason I didn't have a lot of friends as a kid. But these…things, aren't just figments of my imagination. They have minds of their own, taunting me all the time. I hate to even think of it.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen them in a while.” I said with a smile, so that she won’t prescribe me another pill. “Don’t we end in a few?” I say to hurry her along. She taps her skull, as if she’s just now remembering I have a life. “Oh, you’re right! Then we’ll pick this up next week.” Ew, I didn’t want to pick this up again next week. “Um, I’m going to get my papers organized, remember? I’m getting that job. So, if I just notify you, I don’t think meetings will be necessary as of right now.” I said impatiently with a weak smile, tapping my foot at godspeed. Man, she’s slow on the update. Maybe if she's smart enough she’ll realize what I’m trying to say.

She gathered her things, clearly not in her right headspace as she threw it all recklessly in a tote bag. My hands twitched. “Oh, wow. Yeah, that is right! You have a way better memory than me!” she said over-enthusiastically. No wonder she was alway re-scheduling. “I suppose that’s alright, but if you're ever stressed, or need someone to talk to, call my number.” She said with a deeply concerned look. To be truthful, I lost her number, but that’s just between you and me. “Yep. In fact, I’ll have you on speed-dial, just in case.” I told her, my enthusiasm was weak and my social battery was draining fast. “Okay! You have a good rest of your day then!” She says with a cheery smile. Right, like hell I will.

Yup. Sure will. Time to go home to Mamá and step-daddy and scrub the house clean. I hate to be brutally honest as I always am, but they’re half the reason I’m in debt for these damned medical bills. I walk down the long flight of stairs and out of the building. Ugh, finally, I’m free. Almost…

-X-

I hung my keys and walked into the kitchen and shouted, “I’M HOME!”. No response, of course. I opened the door to my room and took a deep breath. Now I’m home. I closed the door because, privacy ya’ know? I hung my messenger bag on a decorative rung I had 3-d printed in sophomore year of Computer Design. I glanced at my neat wall of vinyl records with bands like “Nirvana” and “Los Campesinos”, right next to the picture of me smiling with my father. On my desk was a loose stack of books, things I was borrowing but now belonged to me, a cup of pencils, and my PC setup I made myself, stickers plastering the rough frame. I liked my room, I mean why wouldn’t I? I just never got to show it to anybody besides Elijah and Hoodie, my two friends from high school. Hoodie went to college in the area while me and Elijah bounced from job to job. But it was to have friends who actually hung around.

I flopped on my bed, tired as hell. I pulled out my phone and selected a playlist, closing my eyes and drifting in and out of sleep. I fall into sleep fast, the exhaustion draining me. I dream of the shadows and VHS tapes changing and a loud static in my head. Everything is so unilluminated, and I’m scared, frightened out of my wit at whatever could come out of the wispy darkness. “Jay '' someone says. I looked into the darkness, trying to detect where the voice was ringing from. “Jay” I feel a hand on my shoulder. I jolt awake and rub my eyes. When my vision focuses and my head stops throbbing, my mom is standing in the middle of my room, cigarette in hand. “You were screamin’ again. Did you take your damn pills?” Mamá spoke a heavy accented English, rolling her r’s and vowels. No, I hadn’t. I was supposed to take them even if I took a two minute nap. Or else I screamed like a madman when I dreamed.

“David isn’t coming home tonight.” She said, taking a drag of the cancer creator. “ ‘Work’?” I said, not looking at her, spacing out and staring at the small torn threads in my crocheted rug. She breathed out. “Yeah, ‘work’. I figured you could use the stove tonight then.” She took one last look at my room and walked out, her shirt askew across her small curved shoulders. She’s not the same anymore. After my dad died in that plane crash, she’s been doing all the wrong things with all the wrong people. I don’t understand why she would want to be in a relationship with that abusive fuck ‘David’ or whatever anyway.

But she still does little things like that, letting me know if and when David’s going to be home, and letting me use the stove to make my empanadas and arroz Rojo or ‘foreign food’ as David called it. He doesn’t let me cook because it’s too ‘spicy’ for him. Fuck him and his white people food.

I pulled out all my spices and ingredients, ‘Summerland’ by Half Alive still playing in my ears. I’m in the zone, everything how I want it. Cooking the arroz and frying the meat and sauce for empanadas, carefully avoiding the paper cuts on my hands when dicing the jalapeno and cilantro. In the midst of cooking, I decide to make dessert, having a hard time picking either Tres Leches or Concha Bread. I would ask Mamá, but she was half asleep on the tattered Lay-Z-Boy in the parlor. So I just decide based on what we have the most.

A few hours later, mom wakes up groggily, the smell of authentic Mexican food calling her. “Gracias por la comida hijo.” She says, eyes only half open. “De nada mami.” Spanish is another thing David doesn’t like. He can’t understand ‘taco bell’. “Pronto conseguiré un trabajo.” I’m getting a job, I tell Mamá. I blurted it out. I don’t know why but I just do. “¿un trabajo?” she says with no surprise. “¿Sabes cuál?” Do I know which one, I was so focused on getting out of my meetings for a bit that I hadn’t actually thought of what I would do. “Quizás algo en informática. Se paga bien.” I told her about my computer science classes and how the area of work paid well. Well enough to finish paying the debt to the bills I owed.

“¿Cuándo te convertiste en un hombre tan adulto?” She looks at me. “uh, el mes pasado mamá.” I had just turned 18 last month on November 7th. I was already an adult, technically. Mamá just looked at me and shook her head. “Ya sabes a qué me refiero, joven.” She said sassily. I laughed, enjoying our little corner of the universe, where we were safe. I brought out the Concha Bread and Mamá’s eyes lit up. “Mi Favorita! ” I smiled at her happiness, “¡Solo para ti!”. “Hijo, ¡me estropeas!” You spoil me, She says with a laugh.

We finished dinner, and I tucked Mamá into bed. I piled up the dishes, planning to do them tomorrow, and pulled out my phone to look at available jobs in my area. I pulled up Yelp and look for an IT job. No such luck. I tried Indeed next, again, nada. The hours passed, websites were searched, and still, no IT or Cyber Security jobs in my area.

I give up and try to find a decent paying job not too far from home.There are some alright ones and then there's the ones that look a little shady. I filter out my results so I don’t wish myself an early funeral. And then I found it, THE GOLDEN JOB. The golden job is this thing me and my web-dev friends would do when we were job hunting. You searched for a job, filtered it, and whoever had the best job at the end could dare anyone to do anything (within reason of course). One time Elijah won and he got everybody to buy him something from the DQ menu.

But this job seemed too good to be true. Just down town in the suburbs, away from the city, is a fancy estate house. The owners died a few years ago and this little old lady is looking for someone to clean it up for resale, as she is getting on in her years. The pay is good enough to pay for my bills though. All that's left now is to make the call…

Question Everything: “Wil”

Do you ever get that feeling that you’re constantly being watched? Like eyes are constantly trained on you? As if existing is a cause for concern. “Hey Wil,can you pass me the arroz?” I snap out of my daze, “Huh? Oh sure, Tio.” The house is hectic today, cousins running around and Aunts and Uncles drinking and talking. Nobody in the family liked to be around me and Tio Hector felt bad about that, so he sat with me at all the family meets.

“Ei, você está bem?” Tio said, I smile dancing on his lips. I play along, “Sim, só pensando... e você?” I’m just thinking, what about you? I said with the same smile playing on my lips. Tio just laughs, “You silly, I’m always fine! Como foi a terapia hoje?” He asked about therapy. He cares, but I don’t need therapy. We’re just wasting money we don’t have. “Ah, o mesmo de sempre. Ela apenas traz à tona as mesmas coisas…” Same old, Same old. The lady doesn’t even have a plan for me to get ‘better’. Tio just smiled and said, “Talvez ela esteja louca!”. He bursted out with laughter, making the house feel a little more homely.

Some more family members enter the kitchen, filing up on more drinks and food. I felt so uncomfortable around them, as they do around me. A hate/hate relationship, I guess. Tio sensed my unease and acted as necessary. “Ignore-os, eles estão aqui apenas para ficar bêbados e conseguir babá de graça.” He said they’re alone at the event to get drunk and get free babysitting. He knew this would make me smile, because not only was it funny, it was true.

I stand and push in my chair. “Vejo você mais tarde, tio. Tenho que ir para casa. Trabalho ocupado para ser feito.” Tio stood, “Trabalhar? OK, te vejo mais tarde. But don’t stress yourself! Or else you’ll end up like Aunt Maria!” He laughed. We hugged and I left to drive to my small apartment.

-X-

I got in and locked the doors and tossed my keys anywhere, I didn’t care at this point, my stuff was already everywhere. Boxes were still piled up from a month or two ago, from when I left the family house and moved out on my own. I toed my way on my cold floors, slowly inching my way to my room. LED lights were strung up, drawings and sketches hung up from AP Art classes. A picture of me and Tio sat on my nightstand. We were at a fair, eating bad funnel cakes and playing rigged carnival games. He won me the very avocado plushie that still rests on my bed right now that day.

My laptop rests on my desk, covered in stickers I had designed myself, still open on my DAW program with a music track in queue. I slamed it shut, too tired to even think about any work. I collapse to the bed. I don’t fall asleep, but just lay there. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with more scars. I lay horizontally on my side, drinking in the late afternoon sunlight, absorbing all the details of my room. It’s kinda like when you’re waiting for something but can only leave at a certain time, so you wait and actually notice all the little things in life. The silence was calming.

A boom rang from upstairs. Ugh, the neighbors. I finally decided that I had rested long enough and had to do something productive. The therapist said something about getting a job or whatever, so that I could ‘get myself in the right headspace’. I already had a job, but it was one my family didn't approve of, and if I mentioned that to the therapist we would have a WHOLE discussion about ‘how that made me feel’ or, ‘what I could do to change their perspective’.

I didn’t have the time for that, and hell, I needed a buck. So, restlessly, I snatched my laptop and opened Yelp and Indeed and other numerous job websites and applications. Hours later, you would think I would discover a decent art job! Even a graphics designer looking for an assistant in the heart of New York! But Nada. I gave up a half hour later, deciding to just filter my results for easy, high paying jobs in a calm area (so that way I wasn’t lost in Time Square).

What comes up is some crack-head craigslist kinda shit but some of the jobs are promising. I filter again to get rid of the cuckoo's and 9-5 jobs, settling for something more temp style. This narrows down my search even more, drastically not giving a fuck about my opinion, and only showing one or two results. Eenie Minie Moe later and I found the thing to shut Susan up about the job. A cleaning job, high pay, pick my own hours, AND! when the estate sells I get 2% of the profit sold. It’s this little old lady, selling the home and land of her dead son and daughter-in-law, just wanting to get it in shape before resale.

I applied for the application and got it sent. I got to the kitchen to eat some trashy dried ramen in a bowl I haven’t washed in a week, and decide what time my body wants to deal with sleep and pain.

-X-

I woke up late that morning, my knees bloodied. Fuck. I tip-toe to the bathroom and get out my huge first aid kit. I disinfect and clean, avoid infection and patch it all up with a huge band aid. I've learned the art of self-aid with my eyes closed and hands tied by now. Fixed, for now. The scraps and cuts started showing up everytime I woke up. Nobody could explain it and because my parents never wanted to actually deal with me they just blamed it on ‘depression’ and suicidal thoughts. Fodam-se eles.

I checked my phone, surprised to see a notification from the lady with the estate so early. She said my application checked out and that the latest I can start today is 11:30 am. Well, at least I can choose when I leave. I glance at the clock, gauging how much time I get to blow before leaving to find the property. 10:29…okay. Shower, skip breakfast today, and attempt to clean. Like hell I'm gonna clean. It’s just not in my nature anymore.

Flashforward and I’m running to my car to get there on time because my sense of time is horrible. I showered and barely had time to get my boxers on. So, looking like a lunatic, brandishing my disheveled hair and soggy bandaids barely hanging on by a thread, I booked it to my car.

I sped on the highway, a million miles an hour, hoping this wasn't a grumpy old lady who would dock my pay. I got to the estate, grateful I somehow didn’t get a speeding ticket. It was a grand house, several floors covered in peeling sage green paint. Low hanging weeping trees hung around the property, their leaves falling slowly like blossoms of a Japanese Cherry Blossom. The lady was patiently waiting on a long wrap-around porch. “Hi, there!” The lady smiled kindly. Phew, She wasn’t upset. “What’s your name sonny?” I grabbed the few supplies I had managed to bring with me and shook her hand. “William. William Crest ma’am.” She smiled. “Such a gentleman! Well, come with me hon, I’ll show you ‘round.” I follow her with my small bag of cleaning stuff, ready for work.

“WAIT!!” A loud voice called behind us, footsteps pounding on pavement. Who else did this lady hire? I thought it was just me. All of the sudden a young man, maybe the same age as me, comes running down the driveway. “Lo Siento, miss! I'm sorry I'm so late!” He’s darker skinned but not black, crazy shaggy-curly hair, and a really lean body. And a strange scar across his face. “And who are you?” I said with a bit of an attitude. Tio always said I had a fiery temper. “Oh, I haven’t introduced myself, Mi nombre es Justice Santina.” I looked at him, he seemed…decent. “Nem todos nós falamos espanhol…” I say under my breath. I’m pretty sure the old lady couldn’t understand a lick of what we were saying. “¿Qué?” Justice smiles, surprised. “I’m not spanish, I’m portuguese, so don’t confuse yourself.” I say promptly. Everybody was alway doing that, confusing my Portuguese for Spanish.

“Ay, sorry my friend. I have Portuguese friends…you sounded so similar to them.” He says politely. I glanced at him up and down, not quite trusting him yet. “Well then, if you follow me…” The lady said calmly. I almost forgot what we were here for. We followed the lady as she took us inside. The moment we passed through the doors I coughed. It’s filled to the brim with dust and debris. “It’s been a while,” She said sadly. I could tell, cobwebs big as the ceiling littered everywhere. “I’m selling because my son and daughter-in-love have passed recently.” My face fell, I had read it on the page but it still upset me. “I’m sorry for your loss ma’am.” Justice said kindly. He was so proper, and showed so much respect. She showed us more of the house and instructed us to start wherever was easier. I took off to the nearest room as soon as she left. I didn’t want to be around a total stranger so I plugged in my headphones to send the message.

It was mostly quiet, except for cleaning spray and our music playing in our own ears. I was busy listening to Los Campesinos when I looked up and saw Justice, 3 inches away from my face. “AH! What do you want?!”...

The Locals: “J”

Man, William is too good. He’s got that fiery temper, the kind of guy who works for what he wants and then does your work for you. I came to check in on him, apparently startling him in the process. “So?,” He says impatiently, “What do you want?” I had my bag of supplies in tow, ready to get the place spotless. “Just checking in mi amigo. It’s a pretty big house.” I say carefully. He’s like a stick of TNT ready to go off, but that’s kinda a bonus of working with him already.

“Well, amigo, I’m fine, no need to concern yourself.” I can see him looking at my bag. “Did you really need all that?” I pretend to look appalled. I scoff, “Uh, yeah! Do you see how big this estate is?! No way a bottle of spray and a roll of paper towel is cleaning it all.” I say, pretending to be affected by his words. He exasperatedly turns to whatever he’s cleaning, fed up with my shit already.

When he stood up to move to a desk near him, the jack of his headphones hook onto the corner, unplug and unleash the music he’s listening to. Nervously, he fumbles to insert the headphones back into his phone. “Hey, was that Los Campesinos? ‘You!Me!Dancing!’?” I was surprised to have a similar music taste with a stranger. “U-Uh, yeah.” He stutters, flustered. I smile. “That’s cool. I love that band.” I’m trying to start a conversation here, kindle a fire if I may.

He loosened up a bit, I saw it in his shoulders, and breathed out, “Yeah, they're cool.” Damn it! Mans not even starting this ‘fire’, he’s full on pouring a bucket of water on it! Way to dampen the already soggy situation man…But he continued, “What’s your favorite band?” JAJA, there we go! “Man, gotta be Lovejoy…but also Nirvana, Half Alive, ACDC, I’ve got so many bands and artists…Did you hear that Normal People Things by Lovejoy just got released?”

His eyes lit up, but his facial expression remained the same. “Really? Is it any good?” He roughly scrubs the handles of a desk drawer. “Man,” I look him dead ass in the eyes, “More than good. Wanna listen?” I gesture my headphones to him. He hesitates. “They don’t bite, maybe…” I joke. He glares at me but accepts the headphones, giving me his. “I don’t know how much you listen to Portuguese or Spanish music but…It’s just something I like.” He gently puts on my black headphones as I slide his earbuds into my ears. Smooth accordion and a woman's voice fills my ears. I understand bit’s here and there. It's beautiful in its own way. I look at William, him clearly bopping his head to the song. It’s kinda cute.

I call over his song, “This is beautiful!”. He takes out one side of the headphones. “It 's called Última Dança.” He says to me, smiling from ear to ear. He has fully loosened up now, dancing and bopping to the song. “Not usually my genre of music, but I will admit, It’s nice.” He smiles at my comment, “Yeah, the release is great, too!” He hands my headphones back to me. I realized I still had his in my hands. I give them to him, noticing red stains. “Oh, that’s odd.” He swipes them from me. “Yeah, whatever it’s nothing.” And then boom, silence. Gone, zip, zilch, NADA. So much for a fire.

An hour later, and we’re still cleaning in this nasty, uncomfortable tension that’s been created. I glance at him, looking as he struggles to keep his hair out of his face. I need to break this damn silence. I saunter over to him, taking my own elastic out of my hair. “Here,” I hand the elastic to him. He tosses his head up, his hair everywhere. “Oh, thanks.” He takes it but he clearly doesn’t know how to use one. “Here, lemme help you.” I take the elastic back and begin to gently tuck his hair behind his ears, tying it neatly in a bun.

“Better?” He shakes his head to test the elastic. “Wow, yeah, thanks.” He looks at me and laughs, “But yours is everywhere now!” Indeed it was, sticking up all over the place. For a man of my stature, I had some curly ass hair. He lightly runs his fingers through it. “It’s so soft…” He then realizes how close he is to my face. “Wow, I’m sorry. I should have asked.” He jerks his hand away. “You’re good man, I don’t care. Half the girls at school would just play with it, I honestly don’t know what they see.” I quip. I tug at my shirt, man, it’s getting hot in here.

I grabbed my lunch box and a water bottle. “You want somethin’?” I ask him. He glances at the contents of the bag before him, before slowly sitting across from me. “Yeah, sure. I’ve only eaten my family's food for the longest time. Honestly, time to try something new, right?” He kept looking down, as if he was purposely avoiding eye contact. Like, WTF, man? I’m tryin’ to start convo! But I smiled and agreed, pulling out leftovers and a bowl. William looked at me, like I stole a Mary Poppins bag or something.

“Always gotta be prepared, no?” I smiled, “It’s because I like to have one of everything with me. It’s an OCD thing.” I poured him some of the Arroz Rojo and gave him a piece of the Concha Bread. He accepts the food, smelling it and…….There it is. That smile of satisfaction. I had not yet found someone who had not liked my Arroz Rojo. “WOW, that’s good. You made this?” He said through a mouthful, “Jesus christ, I can’t even pour cereal.” His reaction is priceless.

“Ha, another one bites the Arroz Rojo dust. It’s practically infamous, that rice right there.” I said, admiring how much he actually liked the food. “Really?” he asks, “I can see why.” We eat in silence, but I don’t mind because silence means the food is good and burps are compliments to the chef. William puts down his bowl, presumably full, and picked up his cleaning stuff again. “C’mon, we gotta get back to work.” He walked away, disappearing into another room.

I sighed, also full, and pulled myself up and got back to work. But hell, what do you know? The tension was finally gone…

-X-

“So, uh, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” We finished cleaning for the day and the sun was coming down and the sky was nearing a murky pitch black, stars piercing the sky like salt on a black tablecloth. “Yeah, see ‘ya. Hey, drive safe man.” I said to him, placing my bags in my trunk neatly. He slamed his trunk shut and walked over to me, handing a rough piece of paper to me. “My number,” he says, “Just in case. Like, if you need something, or can’t make it to work, or any emergency I guess.” He explained quickly.

I insert his number into my contacts as “Headphones”, and show him. “This is how you will be immortalized in my phone.” He scoffs, laughing a bit, and I grin. “That’s disrespectful.” He jokes. He shakes his head, sighing. “Well, boa noite amigo.” He smiles. Damn, do I like that smile. “Heh, Buenas Noches amigo.” We got into our separate cars, drove to our separate houses, and went back to separate lives. But I’m sure we can both feel that something has changed about our lives…

Space between: “Wil”

What am I doing? Giving my number to random guys I barely know, random guys at that too, what the fuck. For all I know, I just gave my number to a serial killer. But he’s kinda good looking in a weird fit way…Ya’ know what, it’s probably nothing. I should just get over it. We have a job to do anyway, this is a professional setting. Besides, I barely know anything about the guy.

But I could know more… AH! I need to shut up! Do something with yourself Wil! Be productive! I mean, I do have that track I’m working on…or that one WIP sketch…or I could fix my guitar strings…UGH, I don’t know what to do. Clean maybe? Oy, why is living so hard sometimes.

Then, there it is. A ping, from my phone. I almost fell off my bed, reaching for my phone with a quick swipe. Sure as shit, it’s him. The glare of my bright-ass phone almost blinds me as I quickly try to see his message. Hey, uh, this is justice. From work? Are you up? Lo siento mi amigo, it 's probably so late. I’m going to pass out. But then I would leave him on read for an hour and that’s rude. So I have to respond, Yeah, hey. It’s William. I feel like we should both be in bed. It’s like what, 11pm? What time do you typically go to bed?

WTF? Who says that? He’s probably going to think I'm weird. But I already pressed send. We’re both almost grown men and I’m asking him about bedtime, Ai, preciso de ajuda. But the phone dings so I guess I’m not a complete utter fool. Honestly, I should. But mi Mamá and I are mixing some drinks. Alcoholic and nonalcoholic if you know what I mean. I’d invite you but it’s mexican so it's a LOT stronger than the typical shit they serve at bars. I mean… unless you wanna come over just to hang? Up to you. That’s like, an INVITE right? Christ, Preciso de uma pista. Do I go? I mean, the house is a mess but… I can do it next week.

Gah! I hate anxiety. I wanna go… ‘Ya know what? I’m going. Tudo bem, I’m coming. Address? I can drive… Ha, I actually agreed to it. Who am I now? I wait patiently, but realize I haven’t changed out of the dusty clothes I wore to work. I went to my closet and pulled out a raggedy flannel and some sweats. I’m just pulling my shirt off as the phone rings. I fell over trying to pull my pants over my boxers, and retrieve my phone from my desk. Oh my god, it's facetime.

How the hell do I respond to that? I’m not even fully clothed. But to not be rude, I answer it anyway. “Yo, William! What’s good mi amigo? Uh, you good there?” I feel my face get hot. “Oh, uh, hey! I’m just, you, Uh- You just caught me at an awkward time…” His face registers this for a moment and then he switches topics immediately. “I was just calling to see how you were. I figured I could stay on-call with you and direct you to my house.” He eyes me suspiciously but that’s probably because I had the phone in my face to hide my bare chest on call.

Yeah, dudes go around the city shirtless all the time, playing basketball and whatever have you, but im ugly and scarred and HELLA self-conscious. I must have zoned out because Justice was calling my name. “Yo, William, You good?” He questioned. “Huh? O-oh yeah, I'm fine. Um, could you just give me a minute, I uh, I haven’t finished getting dressed.”

“Oh, shit! ¡Lo siento, mi amigo!” His expression changed immediately, “Man, I’ll call you back then okay? Take your time.” I was a bit flustered and I hope it didn’t show. But I was surprised how compassionate and understanding Justice was. I hadn’t really met someone like that in a while. “Yeah, call you back.” We hung up the call and I got my damn shirt over my head finally. Maybe I’d actually get there with my dignity still intact. I finished getting ready and grabbed my keys and a bottle of juice to contribute to the cocktails.

-X-

I walked across the cracked sidewalk to the worn out sage green house across the street. The paint was peeling off and the roof could be reshingled, even the metal bars to the steps were a rusty orange and falling apart. The steps sagged and creaked under my weight and even the porch was missing a few wooden boards. But it was a house of home, each worn out detail remnants of past lives and past families. I make my way to the door, looking for a bell or a knocker but before I can even knock anything the door swings open.

“Ay! William, mi amigo you made it! Come in, come in. Mi casa es tu casa.” Justice said grandly. I stepped in, just standing there for a moment, taking in all of the house. It was a furnished house, complete with potted plants in the windows and near the kitchen sink. A tattered La-Z-Boy rested in the living room beside a small TV system. There was a small table in the dining room that was connected to the kitchen and by the looks of it, most of the furnishings were handmade. “Mi Padre.” Justice said softly. He must’ve noticed me looking at the furniture. “He was a great woodcarver. Made our whole set.” He smiled sadly but his face lifted, “¡Mamá! ¡Él está aquí!” He shouted to the house.

A woman, in her late thirties with the same wild curly hair as Justice, stepped out from a room behind the kitchen. “¿Es este tu amigo del trabajo?” She spoke so softly, her voice matching her small frame. “Si, Mamá, meet William. William, meet Rosa Santina.” She smiled, “Hola, William. Siéntete como en casa.”

She sat down at one of the smooth tables. “Thank you, and ma’am, please call me Wil.” Justice looked up from where he was looking at a crack in the floor. He snapped his fingers and said, “Your new contact name. It’s decided. Anyway, shall we get this party started or what!”

I hauled the juice I had brought over and we conversed on potential drinks and mixes. I showed Justice Licor Beirão and laughed as he chugged it, coughing and sputtering as he forced it down. We ended up getting majorly drunk leading to Justice and his mom chanting ‘La Cucaracha’ by The Mariachis and me getting it all on film. After we got his mom settled into bed before she broke any dishes around the house, Justice led me to his room.

It was like mine, only dimmer, with low colored rgb LED lights and records hung on the wall. He grabbed a shoe box from under his bed, retrieved a blunt from it and lit it, offering it to me. I had never smoked a day in my life but I was hella drunk so at that moment it didn’t matter. I took a quick drag, trying to remember how the hell you properly let out the smoke. (I ended up coughing like I had an asthma attack or something) Justice came back up from under his bed and sat down, taking a drag and a long exhale. “Phew, you know, I never had more fun in my life. Even Elijah and Hoodie can’t top tonight.” I laughed, drunk and high, “You know a dude named ‘Hoodie’?”

He sat up and looked me dead in the eyes. “Well, we all forgot his real name so now that's just what we call him. We think he’s homeless too.” We look at each other with a dead stare and then burst out laughing. It’s like when the teachers tell you not to make any noise in class but then you look at your friend and just lose it. “Nah, I’m just kidding amigo. He lives near lower Manhattan where he goes to some privileged university or something.” Justice’s words are beginning to slur and same with mine. Man, I didn’t even think of how I was gonna get home.

@thinkingaboutctommy this is the bit where youre mentioned!!

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