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#but even i have to admit she’s more suited for. functionality. than adhd me
tenthgrove · 3 years
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yess thank you for letting me ask you about the lore >:3c so I have to get my absolute favorites outta the way first— what kinda lore and thoughts do you have for sorbet or gelato ( <- before they get together and the earlier years of them getting together if you need a specific period ) I have to also ask are you ok if I go down the “line” and get your thoughts in other asks about the rest of the la squadra babes? Thank you sm 💖💖 I hope you’re having a wonderf day/evening
Ah! Now this is one of my absolute favourites! Apologies to anyone who has already heard me ramble about my Sorbet and Gelato backstory ad nauseam on multiple occasions, but this is really an area where I can't help myself. Besides, this is my opportunity to go more in depth where I haven't before:
(Note after writing this: It's stupidly long. I'm sorry I just can't help myself with these backstories. I couldn't decide what to leave out so I decided nothing.)
(Also please feel free to ask me more lore questions because I love doing this)
We'll begin with Sorbet, born in Naples in February 1967 if you follow the canon timeline (although by default I write in modern AU so move the dates 20 years later). His situation at birth was absolutely dire, the eldest child of an incredibly vulnerable woman and one of her clients as a sex worker. Sorbet's mother was by all means a decent woman but her severe mental illness and drug addiction made it impossible for her to be a good mother, which of course had a bad effect on Sorbet growing up. After Sorbet, she had 5 more children, all through clients, and Sorbet was saddled with much of their care.
Though he loved his siblings, Sorbet was pretty much done with this life by age 12 and was easily swept up by older boys from the local street gang, who paid him well to peddle drugs when he should have been in school. This was a very underfunded neighbourhood so nobody questioned his truancy, and within the next couple of years he had stopped going to school entirely. Shortly after this, having acquired sufficient money through his crime involvement, Sorbet left his family to stay with his new friends, moving between them on a regular basis. He also discovered his sexuality around this time and dated a few male friends, though none of these relationships got very far.
By age 16, Sorbet had earned a reputation in the street gang for skilled and passionate violence, and was selected by the ringleader to commit the group's first planned murder, in exchange of course for a lucrative reward. Sorbet accepted, succeeded, and became the group's de-facto assassin whenever needed. He continued to hoard considerable money for the remainder of his adolescence, though continued to be functionally homeless since he didn't see it necessary when sofa-surfing was suiting him fine.
Before resuming with Sorbet, let's explain the life that Gelato came from. Gelato was born in October 1967 in St. Petersburg, Russia, (Note- I previously used the city of Minsk, unaware that this is in fact, in Belarus) to an upper-middle class businessman and his Italian wife, a distant relative of French Monarchy. Gelato's relationship with his parents was rocky from the start due to the fact they would have preferred a girl after three successive sons, but any parental love they had for their youngest child broke down entirely after he was diagnosed with both Autism and ADHD at age 5, in an evaluation intending to find the cause of some behavioural issues that were really, just a response to emotional neglect.
When Gelato was 13 he, his parents, and two of his three brothers (the eldest was already an adult by this time and elected to stay behind) moved to Italy to escape some allegations of corruption in the father's business. They moved to a rural village in North-West Italy where the community was very middle-class and quite stifling for Gelato, who had enough social rules to remember in the familiar, economically-diverse city he grew up in. His behavioural issues got worse and began to include things he would later regret, such as attacking and stealing from younger children, and things he would absolutely not, like attacking and stealing from teachers. By this point the family had largely written him off as a failure, revering instead their academically successful, well-behaved older children, which absolutely contributed to the spiralling cycle of behaviour issues Gelato faced.
Then, at age 17, Gelato failed a crucial exam and was expelled from high-school. His parents kicked him out on the spot, and with no other family in Italy Gelato had very few options on what to do next. He recalled, however, one older friend having links to a street gang in Naples, and decided to see if this boy might have a route out of destitution for him. Indeed, the friend did know of a man in Naples needing assistance within the gang, but could offer no help in getting Gelato there. Seeing no other way, Gelato walked the whole journey.
Arriving in Naples, the friend's associate announced that the position Gelato was after had been taken, but taking pity on his distress, informed him of another friend who needed someone to look after an unlicensed bar that served as one of the group's main meeting points. He agreed to arrange for the small apartment above the bar to be given as payment.
Gelato accepted, but although he had now solved the problem of homelessness his life was still incredibly miserable. For one, with his pay being the apartment he had to rely on measly tips to get by, which rarely left him with enough to eat let alone anything else. Additionally, as an outsider with little understanding of the way gangs work Gelato was an easy target for abuse, and was treated like absolute shit by the bar's patrons.
By this point in time, Sorbet had just turned 18. He was, incidentally, in the same gang Gelato had joined, and a regular at the bar he worked in. For a good couple of months they took no notice of each other, until Sorbet came to be in a coincidental feud with one of the men who was violent to Gelato at the bar. When Gelato witnessed the two of them in a fight, he made the spur-of-the-moment decision to join in on Sorbet's side, knocking the patron unconscious and leaving him too afraid to visit again. For his trouble, Sorbet gave Gelato a portion of the money he looted from the fight's loser, and flirted with him lightly before going about with his evening. Unknown to Sorbet, he had just sent Gelato falling head over hills in love.
Gelato found out about Sorbet's sexuality from other patrons and, delighted, attempted to flirt with him the next time they saw each other, but his attempts came off very poorly and Sorbet actually thought he was being insulted. Angered, he dragged Gelato into the cellar to demand what was going on. Gelato, terrified, admitted having a crush, which Sorbet found to be the sweetest and most genuine thing he'd ever heard. While he couldn't promise a relationship, he did agree to show Gelato more attention in the future. But, it was only a matter of days until Sorbet found himself loving Gelato back.
This whirlwind relationship continued happily for three weeks, Sorbet greatly improving Gelato's situation through his saved money and helping him fend off the abusive patrons. Gelato, in turn, offered Sorbet a permanent place to stay in the apartment, which he accepted. Sorbet was in the process of moving his things, and they had plans to refurbish the place to make it actually habitable.
But then, everything came crashing down. One night the bar was subject to a surprise raid by the police, operating by the false assumption it was empty. Sorbet and Gelato attempted to flee but were caught, and in a panic, Gelato shot a policeman dead. Rushing to his defence Sorbet killed two more, but a fourth escaped to tell the tale. The couple knew they were screwed. Running to the headquarters of their gang they begged for protection but were informed the small group simply could not save them from a charge this serious, and gave them only a single night of shelter to plan their next move. Gelato, who remember had never committed anything more serious than minor ABH before, had an absolute breakdown over this predicament that night, and whilst comforting him, Sorbet devised a blood pact with him to stick together no matter what came.
Over the next few days, Sorbet and Gelato fled north, avoiding the police through Sorbet's skills as a criminal and Gelato's very convincing Russian tourist impression. They were almost at the French border when Sorbet awoke one night to find Gelato missing behind him. He chased his tracks to the driveway of a rural house, a tearful Gelato clutching a knife at the shut door and trembling. He informed Sorbet that he had intentionally led him to the village where his family lived, with the intention to break in and kill them as revenge for the years of abuse. Sorbet warned Gelato that this would not be good for their attempts to flee, but said he understood fully and would help him if this is truly what he wanted. Gelato agreed, and together they broke into the house and slaughtered Gelato's mother and father, additionally killing one of his brothers after he woke from the noise. The other brother, the youngest other than Gelato, was spared, as Gelato felt his role in the abuse had been comparatively more minor and he did not deserve to die. This of course, left another witness.
The massacre in the village was quickly linked to the one at the bar and Gelato was promptly identified from a comparison of DNA found at the scene to his surviving brother's. Sorbet, a known criminal, was identified soon after. Not only were the pair now known but the police figured out what their plan was and informed the French police as well, making things exponentially harder for the couple.
They made do for a while by hanging low and keeping on the move, living off money stolen from the parents' house. Eventually however, they needed more, and began making deals with local crime organisations to carry out assassinations in exchange for money or temporary shelter. While Sorbet was already a pro at this, Gelato found himself a fast learner, and soon realised he shared Sorbet's adoration for the act of killing. He felt as though he was finally coming to meet his true self.
Though the assassination deals were lucrative, they did not help the couple keep a low profile and the attacks from police were relentless. Several times, they barely escaped capture. All this was not good on their mental states, and after two years, Sorbet knew it needed to end. He and Gelato returned to Naples in the hope their old gang might reconsider protecting them, but they were met with a surprise as their old gang had been completely overtaken by Passione. Even still, the new mobsters had heard a lot about Sorbet and Gelato's exploits and agreed to get them an audience with a local Capo, Pericolo, who was impressed by the men's skills and moved by the sense of honour suggested by their love for each other. He agreed to initiate them into the gang.
Soon after this, Sorbet and Gelato recieved stands which, although not very powerful, assisted them greatly in the art of assassination. Soon, they were natural choices for Passione whenever a hit needed carrying out in the Naples area. At some point a few years in, they befriended a man named Prosciutto who had been recently forced into Passione due to his heritage. Prosciutto was also funnelled into assassination jobs and, with less of a reputation for impulsivity than Sorbet and Gelato, was the one given the order to form a new assassination squad when the need arose, around 1993 if we're following canon.
(Note, I hc La Squadra was created by Passione in response to a real life government crackdown on the Italian mafia around 1992-93, in response to an incredibly scandalous series of assassinations. In such a climate, it would make sense for Passione to want to consolidate an elite squad of its best hitmen, do avoid future problems.)
Due to personal commitments Prosciutto did not want to be the captain, so attempted to give this responsibility to Sorbet, a request the boss promptly denied. Prosciutto was, however, allowed to add Sorbet and Gelato to the team's ranks, cementing the three of them as the first members of the team.
Prosciutto would, soon enough, find another person to give the title of captain to, but that's a story for another time.
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lesbeet · 3 years
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Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for the posts you made about pcos because they meant a lot to me. I was diagnosed as a teen and the symptoms have caused me tons of gender dysphoria that I still struggle with daily. But I would always feel guilty for feeling that way because as a (pretty much cis) afab person, I felt like I wasn’t entitled to those feelings, or that I was alone in them. Anyway, I just wanted you to know how deeply you’ve affected me and thank you from the bottom of my heart. Much love ❤️
i’m so glad angel <3 but yeah i absolutely feel like that describes my own experience as well. 
it’s not something i’ve really discussed in detail publicly—in part bc i didn’t really conceive of what i was experiencing as gender dysphoria until pretty recently, and bc like you said, i didn’t feel like it was an experience that was available for me to claim since i’m also “a (pretty much cis) afab person.” i typically think of myself as “functionally” cis in that i receive the material benefits of a cis woman and don’t necessarily feel like being trans is an accurate way to describe my experiences or feelings about my own gender, but ever since i was a kid i’ve felt distress and discomfort about the way my body doesn’t feel...aligned? with the way i feel gender-wise. 
like i guess the easiest way to describe it is that i feel like my body makes me come across as more masculine than i am, and it’s caused a lot a lot a lot of emotional distress for as long as i can remember. my pcos symptoms (mostly the excess body hair and the way my body holds onto weight, personally) are w/o a doubt the primary cause for me, but being a lesbian certainly didn’t/doesn’t help, and in hindsight even some of my adhd symptoms probably contribute/d to this in some way
like i have clear memories of being maybe 8 or 9 (so before puberty, and before most of my pcos symptoms really manifested) and lying in bed at night thinking like...”i feel like i should be a boy.” not “i WANT to be a boy” or “i WISH i was a boy” or even “i AM a boy”, but that i should be, or that i should want to be. and then i would imagine myself as a boy and it would make me so desperately uncomfortable and unhappy because it was so at odds with how i felt on the inside, even though i WAS a girl. i honestly don’t think i’ve ever talked about this lmfao it’s always just kinda been tucked in the back of my mind bc i didn’t really have an understanding of what i was feeling
so there’s little baby lesbian me who definitely knows she likes girls but would jump in front of a bus before admitting that to herself, let alone to anyone else, and on top of that i’ve always been overweight, esp compared to most other girls my age growing up, and especially as a little kid i didn’t really share the same ~girly~ interests as a lot of my friends—i never liked playing with dolls, i didn’t care about makeup until i felt like i needed it to make me pretty, etc. and bc of (then-undiagnosed) adhd i was usually more like. messy and disorganized and LOUD than a lot of my friends who were girls. so i would just walk around feeling like this brutish, masculine child who looked awkward and dumb when i would like go to dance class (which i LOVED....when i didn’t have to look in the mirror) or hang out with my friends or whatever
and i feel like even though i’ve always been pretty feminine i’ve also gotten more *girly* as i’ve gotten older (or at least i got over my “i’m not like other girls” syndrome lmfao), which has helped, along with just being more comfortable w myself and w my sexuality for sure. but even now i still feel like i look inherently more masc than i feel like i am, and it still causes me distress. like there are certain things i would love to wear but don’t bc they would make me look “too masc” and would trigger the dysphoria. like i looooove looking at like feminine women in suits and i LOVE women in button-up shirts but i feel like i can’t wear them because it doesn’t come across the same way. when i do it i just look like i’m intentionally dressing to look masc, which i’m not
idk if any of this makes sense lol
and if i’m misinformed about my understanding of gender dysphoria please feel free to let me know
but anyway i’m glad i was able to help you! <3 and thank you for inadvertently giving me this opportunity to get all of this out bc like i said i’ve never really talked about it before
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miss-choco-chips · 4 years
Text
College au part 2
Home, a place where I can go to take this off my shoulders- someone take me home (Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors & Bebe Rexha – Home)
They are there for each other, the good and the bad. That’s what family is for, after all.
-.-.-.-.-.-
-I'm so gay -sighed Miguel almost dreamingly, stopping next to Slobo by the doors leading to the backyard.
Blissfully unaware of them, Tim was going through his usual routine of what seemed a mix of gymnastics, various martial arts and parkour, with a side of dancing to spice things up.
His friend snorted without even raising his eyes from the motorcycle engine he was trying to fix. A blasphemy, in Miguel's humble opinion, to have such an amazing view and to not take advantage of it.
-I know.
He dropped to the ground, head resting on Slobo's shoulder, gaze unwavering in his appreciation of slim muscles and perfectly controlled strength. Tamed power to the fullest.
-I mean like, really really gay.
-Yeah, what else is new? Pass me the motor oil.
He blindly patted the ground for it, picking something vaguely shaped like a can and thrusting it to where he thought were the other's hands.
When Tim bends over and starts stretching, Miguel wheezes and drops the can.
-I'm so stupidly, non functionally gay.
Slobo rolled his eyes and picked it up, his other hand going to close Miguel’s jaw.
-Dude that's all old news. Either come here with fresh gossip, be helpful, or leave. I don't need you making a mess of my stuff. You are getting your hormones all over my individual bubble.
Miguel sighed again, eyes almost physically turning into hearts when Tim stretched his arms over his head.
-Fuck, I can’t handle this much inner gay. It’s overwhelming.
-Nothing inner about it, dude. You’re dripping it all over my work station. Can’t you go be a disaster gay somewhere else?
-Tim is here, so no can do.
-Can’t you just ask him out and save us all the pining show and second hand embarrassment? 
A few meters away, Tim had taken out the bo staff and was practicing some moves. He accidentally brushed a branch (a thick one, from the pine tree Kon’s grandparents had made him plant upon moving there), and snapped it in half. He seemed kinda sheepish about it, which was both adorable and terrifying. Miguel was scared and horny.
-He’d destroy me.
Slobo hummed, hand reaching up to pat Miguel in the shoulder.
-Sounds like something you’d be kinda into, though.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
-This coffee tastes like dirt -complained Tim, while chugging half the pot in one long gulp. 
Distantly, Cassie noted there was still steam coming out of the liquid. Hadn’t Tim just brew it? Also, was it completely dark? No sugar? 
Like her future?
Despairingly, she let her head fall again on the table.
-Why did I get into politics?
-Your pathological need to fulfill Diana’s expectations -replied Cissie, sitting across from her, long hair in what could have been a bun once upon a time but now looked more like a bird’s nest. That had been hit by lighting. Repeatedly.
It strangely suited her. Or it could be Cassie’s adoration for her friend speaking, who the fuck knows.
-Which, I might add -interjected Tim, not waiting for them to say ‘you may’ before continuing. Because he was a rude bastard like that- you invented by yourself. Diana only hopes you don’t end up in jail. And if it's for the right causes, she might even forgive that. 
He dropped to the ground for no discernible reason, back to the cabinets where they kept the fine cutlery they never used. He was staring at the halfway empty pot like it contained the key to conquering mankind.
Knowing Tim, it might actually be true.
-Don’t try to take over the world -she asked, worried he might. Cissie made a confused sound, not privy to Cassie’s internal monologue, but Tim just nodded distractedly, which was all she needed before turning back to her half done paper.
-How are you doing, sis?
-Sis like sister, o Ciss like Cissie? -came Tim’s voice from behind her, probably still sitting on the ground. 
-Yes.
-Oh -the girl in front of her blinked- sorry, you were talking to me? 
-I mean… Tim is not ‘sis’.
-I resent that, I totally could be. Also, seriously, why does my coffee taste like dirt?
-Don’t drink it then. You were saying, honey?
Cassie rested her chin on a hand, elbow carefully to the side of her paper. 
-How are you doing?
-Wondering why did I ever thought studying psychology was a good idea. Why? Who started me on this path, and can I punch them? -her voice raised higher and higher the more distressed she got- Tim? Do you remember?
-Your therapist back in high school got you out of your toxic home life and helped you basically re-build your sense of self worth. Also you like to get into everyone’s business so Kon suggested making a career out of it.
-Remind me to punch him later.
-You could break your hand, and you have an archery competition this friday.
-Kick him, then.
-Got ya.
-Can I just die? -interjected Cassie, phone at hand. Her screen displayed a text sent by a classmate, who updated her on their due date. Apparently, she had calculated wrong and it was way sooner than what she thought- What’s the worst that could happen if I die? I’m sure people would get over it.
-You’d be losing all the progress you made in your career so far -reminded her Cissie.
Tim’s voice joined from behind- Included, but not limited to, that one class you had with the douche professor. Imagine if you lost your progress and had to start over. Imagine having class with him again.
She shivered- That was both incredibly motivational, and unholily terrorizing.
Greta entered the kitchen then. She looked fresh and cute, which was probably due to her having a full night’s sleep.
-Wow, you three have been here the whole night? -she asked, obviously concerned, looking over Cissie’s shoulder at her assignment- Did you guys even make progress? At all? -her eyes discovered Tim’s half assed project, on the place next to where Cissie sat.
If Cassie didn’t love her so much, she would punch her in the face.
Tim sighed.
-I can’t get up. I can’t feel my legs -he admitted. Cassie thinks, she should be worried. Losing sensibility seemed like a serious problem. But, whatever, Greta was here, and she was perfectly well rested. Let her take care of the worrying.
-Tim? Oh my god, are you alright? -she rushed to his side.
-I think the coffee stopped making effect, and my three-on-a-row all nighters caught up to me. Just let me die, Greta. If coffee is not longer working on my body, I might as well let the grim reaper do its thing. 
Cassie couldn’t see her any longer, since she was at her back by Tim’s side, but she could still somehow sense her concern growing.
-Tim... Did you use this bag by the coffee maker to brew it?
-I can’t move my head to look up at what you’re pointing, but I guess I did.
-Oh, honey… that is soil for Kon’s vegetable plot. Not coffee grounds.
-...so that’s why it tasted like dirt. Thank god. Excuse me while I faint.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
-I think Conner is dead on our living room -announced Miguel entering the kitchen. Slobo, Anita and Greta didn’t even blink, just kept their... poker? game going.
-He’s probably just sleeping -the other man waved a hand dismissively- Did you check his pulse or something?
-Ew, no. What if he’s really dead? I don’t want to touch a corpse. Greta, you go touch it.
-Why me? 
-If anyone will need to put their fingerprints in a veritable crime scene, who better than the only one with no criminal record?
-Tim doesn't have it either, go knock on his door and tell him to do it. I’m about to swindle both these jerks.
-There’s a difference between never getting caught by the police, and erasing all virtual proof of your crimes. Tim belongs to the second group. Also, last I checked, he and Bart were working on something on his room. I’m not approaching that danger zone without protective equipment.
-Speaking of -Slobo raised his head, looking around- has anyone bought them food in the last couple of hours?
-Kon, probably. 
-He is dead -he reminded them- Cassie and Cissie are still asleep, and I’m not waking them up. Greta?
Out of their group, Conner was Tim and Bart’s official handler (when Tim was not micromanaging them all, at least; little control freak).  Many people believed he lifted at the gym to get all the girls; in truth, as the boy had once told Miguel, it was so he could carry both his friends to bed in one trip to tuck them in at the same time, because if he did it separately, the one that got to be second always tried to make a run for it. 
In the event he was unavailable, Cassie took over. Her skills with a lasso and years of practice at the rodeo came in handy then, and it never failed to crack him up when he saw how swiftly she caught them both.
And if she wasn’t close or was busy, then Cissie took over for Bart and Greta for Tim, as they could only handle one at the time.
The rest of them were last resource. Second to last was Jason Todd, who as both Tim’s brother and Bart’s TA held a fair amount of power over them.
If Jason told them to fuck off, then Slobo, Miguel and Anita would talk it out among themselves. Slobo would suggest knocking them out. Which, considering Bart’s speed and Tim’s mindblowing ninja training (and where the hell did he learn that, they would never know), wasn’t a very realistic option. Anita suggested drugs; but between Bart’s ADHD medication and Tim’s antibiotics for his lack of spleen and antidepressants, the adverse effects made them all a little uncomfortable with the idea.
Miguel’s own suggestions, which involved a lot of tender care and coddling, where ignored with a few laughs and a shrug.
-Fuck you, I’m not leaving this table so close to cleaning you both up. If you are worried, you go feed them.
Slobo shrugged.
-If they die, I call Tim’s room. Having a roommate is the worst.
-Excuse you -raised an eyebrow Miguel, walking to the fridge for a drink. He might as well watch the game.
-If I have to listen to you practicing your singing before showering one more time...
-If I can deal with you cursing at your phone at five am, you can deal with my melodious voice -Miguel blinked- That’s not poker.
-We are playing Truco.
-What?
-It’s a popular game in Argentina, or so Tim said. He taught us when he was having a coffee break this morning. And by the way: Truco, bitches!
-I’m in! -Slobo yelled back.
Greta looked at her cards impassively, then at the ones laying on the table between the three of them, before raising an eyebrow- I call Re Truco.
Miguel watched them go for a while. He wasn’t sure on the rules, but from the way they kept yelling, he knew it was highly competitive. It also seemed to involve a great amount of deceit, bullshiting and being as poker faced as possible. It made sense that Tim had been the one introducing them to the game. Speaking of…
-Maybe if I knock on the door with a coffee offering, he’ll listen to me without punching my nose in? -he mumbled to himself, aware that the others were ignoring him. Decided to test his luck, he climbed to his feet and readied the coffee maker.
The rest of the afternoon saw Miguel sitting on Tim’s bed, watching from the sidelines how both he and Bart built… something. It had a chainsaw and a mini shield, so maybe a fighting bot? There were some (not very legal) competitions around campus...
It was almost dinner time when he remembered a tiny, small detail.
-Man, I’m so hungry. You guys think dinner is ready? -asked Bart, hand sweeping the sweat off his forehead- Who was in charge of it tonight?
Lightning-like realization hit Miguel.
-Oh, yeah, speaking of that… Kon was probably dead, last time I checked. Maybe we should order a pizza or something?
-Cool, I could do pizza. 
-I’m sorry, Kon was what?!
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
-You guys need jobs -told them Tim one morning over breakfast. They had just moved in together, and classes were about to start. Nobody seemed willing to talk about responsibility yet, but he felt like they needed the push to do it.
-I have a job -proudly smiled Bart, eyes never leaving the TV where his character was beating Kon’s into a bloody plump. He didn’t elaborate past that, and Tim made a mental note to investigate further later. Bart’s career was enough, they needn't add another unsolved mystery.
-Where is this coming from, though? We have loads of time for that -scoffed Slobo, watching the game intently.
-Classes are starting soon, and people will be getting all the good jobs. I did some calculations, and the money you guys have been saving for living expenses will run out in two, three months tops. Greta has the coffee shop thing and Cassie just got called back from the movie theatre, but the rest of you need to find some money maker. Stat.
-And what about you? -threw Cissie back, internally agreeing with him but despising the reality check.
Tim looked at her, completely deadpan. Silently, he took out his wallet, fishing three cards (one silver, one golden and one black) from it and showing them to her.
-Even before being adopted by a billionaire, I already was a rich trust fund baby. And now that I’ve said it, I’m gonna avoid getting punched by making my exit. Good luck job hunting.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Cassie and Anita’s room was ground floor, along with the kitchen, living room, laundry area, a medium size bathroom with a shower, and a very small one with only the toilet and sink. The second floor housed Bart and Conner’s room, along with Miguel and Slobo’s, and Cissie and Greta’s, plus the biggest bathroom, with both a tub and shower. The attic had been claimed by Tim, who won that right by paying the deposit for the house on top of his part of the rent. It was the biggest room, the size of the entire house without partitions, with only one separation in the form of the small sized bathroom. He loved his room, would pay twice what he coughed up to have it. It was worth it, every cent.
He loved his attic; The bathroom, however, was another thing. It ran out of warm water constantly.
-This is the second time this month. I love you, but you aren’t burrowing our bath -denied Cissie firmly, arms crossed as she waited outside the door for Greta to finish her shower-. If it was any other day I’d say yes, you know I would, but you aren’t the only one that needs to get ready for the movie, and there’s six of us sharing here. Go ask the girls.
Defeated but understanding, he went another floor down, arms full with his skin and hair care products (he had a image to keep, and one never knew when paparazzi would be around; he and his brothers had a steady competition on who got caught in camera being a ugly mess the least, that he wasn’t willing to lose) and clean clothes. 
Anita shrugged when she opened the door, still naked except from her towel and hair dripping.
-Yeah, Cassie already took hers. Just remember to lock the door, dude. Since its ground floor bathroom, someone always tries to get in to pee when you’re showering, it’s annoying. Also, don’t come at me with complains about hair in the drain, okay? 
Thankful beyond caring, he nodded and hurried towards it.
He wasn’t expecting what he found there. Already halfway to the shower, he stopped to leave his folded clothes on top of the cabinet near the sink when he saw...
-Why are there weapons here? -he couldn't help but scream, clutching a towel to his naked chest. He felt distinctly like a victorian lady preserving her virtue from a foe. It was a very curious feeling.
-I said no judgements!! -Anita yelled back from across the hallway.
-Yeah, regarding hair on the floor! Nobody said anything about weapons!
-So I forgot my katana there after my shower, big deal. Just don’t fall on it, problem solved.
-No, I’m used to seeing your katana, but why the fuck do you girls have cat shaped brass knuckles?
-They are cute and useful! Aren’t you taking a shower, dude? The movie starts soon!
Deciding that this wasn't a battle worth picking, he turned on the warm water. Ahh, nice, wonderful hot water.
-Oh, Tim! -came Cassie’s yell- Don’t lock the door, forget what Anita said! I need to put on my make up and that mirror is better than the one in our room.
-I’m gonna be showering though.
-And?
Yeah, she had a point. Shrugging, he made sure the door was unlocked before stepping under the water and closing the curtain.
He heard her coming in and rummaging through one of the little bags he saw on the sink cabinet. He couldn't help but ask.
-Why do you guys keep weapons here?
-They are for when we are most vulnerable.
-With thighs like yours you’re never vulnerable.
-I love you. But just pretend I have noodle legs, for argument’s sake.
-Mkay. 
-Well, name one instance when you’re more weak and exposed than when you’re taking a shower.
-...Yeah, I follow. Still seems a bit excessive, but I do like that pointy needle thing you have by the blow dryer. I need to get my sister one of those, cute and deadly like her.
-That? Oh, honey, no, that’s a hair pin. 
-If you put your hair in a bun and use that as an ornament, you’d never be unarmed, that’s all I’m saying. Again, cute and deadly. 
-...You’ve opened my eyes.
-You’re welcome. May I borrow your eyeliner?
-Sure, but why? You don’t usually use makeup.
-If I make myself long enough wings, maybe I’ll be able to fly away from my problems. Or look fabulous enough to not care about them.
-In moments like this I’m reminded of my undying love for you. Do my eyes too.
-Gotcha.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He came home five minutes after receiving the text, chest heaving from the run and heart beating furiously for a entirely different reason.
Cassie, phone at hand, was waiting by the door. Her eyes were solemn.
-What happened? -he asked, not bothering with niceties as he stepped in and closed the door behind him.
-Family dinner went wrong -she shrugged-, not that he told me. Bart was playing games when he walked in and he texted Jason, who told him, and then he came to me.
Fuck them, Kon thought uncharitably. The Waynes were both an awesome family, and boarding on toxic. Guessing which kind were they going to be any given week was like playing lottery. It was such a Murphy law thing that they went for shitty this particular weekend, where Tim could have used their love and support the most.
-How is Jason? -he asked, not that he cared too much, but because he knew Tim would want to know sooner or later.
-Bart didn’t say, but he did mention he was hanging out with Kori and Roy, and Artemis said in the family group chat to not bother her tonight, so I’m assuming she’s there too.
-Biz is still at the farm, but three is better than nothing -he sighed, taking off his coat and walking towards the stairs- Bart?
-He just convinced Tim to take a bath in the big tub, so he’s probably standing guard by the door.
A nod, Kon’s steps hurried with purpose now that he had a clear destination in mind.
-The others?
Cassie waved vaguely towards the arch on the wall leading to the living room. Kon could see someone moving there from the corner of his eye, but didn’t turn to check; he wouldn't be derailed from his path.
-Greta went to the attic to clean Tim’s room a bit. You know he doesn't have the strength to do it himself right now, but seeing it like that also makes him feel worse. Cissie and Anita are readying the living room for a movie night, picking up all the pillows and blankets in the house. A pillow fort might be in the making.
They were on the second floor now. Kon could see Bart ahead, back resting against the wall, just by the side of the door.
-Slobo ran to Tim’s favorite pizza place -Cassie kept going, keeping pace with him- and should be back soon; Miguel went to the store to buy comfort food, sweets and stuff. Ice cream too, probably.
Conner nodded again, glad to see everyone was following their protocol for these kind of situations. All their housemates accounted for, he stopped in front of Bart and patted his shoulder comfortingly. He was very empathetic, tended to pick up on everyone’s moods, specially Tim’s, and let himself be influenced by them. The shadows on his eyes were probably a mirror image of how their friend currently taking a bath was doing. Not so hot, apparently.
-I’ll take it from here, you guys go put on your pajamas and help the girls get everything ready -he suggested, eyes going to Cassie’s. She nodded, understanding that her mission now was to calm Bart down. Helping Anita and Cissie would do wonders for him.
On most situations, the group tended to follow Tim’s lead, their indisputable commander in chief; when he couldn’t be there, or was too emotionally compromised, Cassie would take over. However, in this particular scenario, everyone deferred to him for some reason. Maybe because he’s been with Tim for the longest time, maybe because he knew him best. It didn’t matter; all he cared about was that it made his work easier, and they seemed glad to have a task they could focus on, rather than dwelling in concern.
Softly, he rapped his knuckles against the door.
-Tim? I’m coming in, dude -he informed him, voice low as to not spook him if he was dissociating. The last they needed was him slipping in the shower.
When no answer came, he entered the steamy bathroom, door closing behind him. As Cassie had predicted, Tim was sitting in the almost full tub, knees hugged to his chest and chin resting above them. His eyes went to Conner when he approached him though, which was a good enough sign to make him visibly sigh in relief.
Tim’s eyes narrowed, as if he wanted to snap at him that he didn’t need them to take care of him, but then he just deflated and looked ahead again, not nearly strong enough to fight.
Knot growing on his chest, Kon sat by the tub’s edge- Hey there. You’re not looking very cool right now. Have I ever told you I despise like 66% of your family?
-Three out of six is not 66%.
-Three? I only like Alfred and Cass.
-You don’t dislike Jason.
-I mean, it varies from moment to moment. But I’ll give you that since you’re feeling bad, and concede on 50%.
Tim snorted a little, and his eyes didn’t look as dead as they had when Kon first came in, so he gave himself infinite Best Friend points.
-Want to talk about it? -he asked gently, hand on Tim’s wet shoulder. He felt more like saw him shrug.
-Nothing to tell, really… It was more of the same shit. I love them, but sometimes they…
-Don’t make it easy, huh?
-...yeah. I don’t even know why I’m so fucked up over it, I’m used to this.
Kon squeezed his shoulder- Your psychiatrist warned you, this week was gonna be tough even without the family drama.  Your body is adjusting to the new medication, and it…
-Yeah, yeah, I know -he sighs, sinking deeper into the water- I just… I just hate this. That my brain works like that, that I worry you all, that I can’t just fucking deal with it alone. You know what Jack used to say about mental illness…
-A stupid bastard’s words shouldn't be taken seriously. And you know we don’t like the J word in this house, it’s one of the rules.
Tim’s smile, small and tentative, was a thing of beauty. It never failed to remind Kon why he put so much effort into making the situation better for his friend, when he saw that it actually did help.
-You guys can’t just erase my father from my memory by sheer force of will and avoidance of the topic.
-Sure we can -he gave his shoulder a  light pat-. The boys will be here soon with food, and I heard a movie night is in order. You done with your bath? We could stay here longer if you want to, though.
Tim’s smile grew a little bit, cheeks warming, delighted despite himself at the love and care that was being bestowed upon him. Some time ago, he might have fought them over it; the progress was hard earned, but Kon wouldn't change a single thing about it.
-Yeah, I just have to put conditioner on and comb my hair -he hesitated a bit, glancing down at his arms hugging his legs and probably weighing their strength-. Could you, uh… do it for me?
Kon had already been reaching for the bottle even before he asked.
There was little he could do to help Tim, medical wise. But there were professionals for that, and after many late night talks and specially bad episodes, Tim had gotten better at seeking their help when needed.
What he could do was no less important, though; making sure their home was a safe, supportive, non-toxic place for him to come back to.
That’s what best friends-- what family was there for.
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kj-nixon · 5 years
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happy v day
On any other day, it would be nearly impossible to wake KJ up before 10am. You would have to fire a gun next to her. It was actually a major concern of her family’s, but she had always been more of a night owl than an early bird.
But today was Valentine’s Day. And this year she was going to do something fantastic for Hunter.
Last night, she had stolen his Apple Watch after he had fallen asleep and set the alarm to vibrate on her wrist at 7. She hated the thing because she felt the radiation from it would lead to arthritis. Bailey had tried to explain that that wasn’t how arthritis worked, but KJ was still skeptical. Regardless, it was the only way she could think of setting an alarm without also waking up Hunter.
God damn, 7am. Any later and Hunter would probably wake up on his own and ruin the surprise. Why did he have to be such an adult?
KJ grinned at that. That’s why she loved him.
As gracefully as she could manage, which wasn’t all that graceful if you knew KJ, she slipped out of their queen sized bed and tip toed to the kitchen. Their apartment was more of an open loft. A giant, brick square with only the bedroom and tiny bath distorting the shape by jutting out to the side. Looking at the floor plan, she had never quite been able to figure out how it interlinked with the other apartments, but really, did it matter? It suited them perfectly. The kitchen was as much a part of the living room as it was the dining room.
Open concept, open vibes.
They had it decorated as some combination of industrial modern and cozy, and the kitchen was pretty much the same. The tricky part was that KJ so rarely actually opened their cabinets that it took her a few attempts to find the pans she needed. Eventually, though, she got the bacon onto the gas stove and started on making breakfast in bed.
Hunter was, hands down, the best thing to happen to her. She knew she said it a lot, but it was just facts. Without him, she would probably be chasing yet another degree that she wouldn’t complete. He rescued her. Of course, he’d never admit it, but KJ and her siblings knew that she was kind of worthless without him.
And she was worthless, no doubt about it. Worthless against conventional standards. She couldn’t keep a job, her temper kept her from really being too great a people person, and without help her living space would be a dump. But she thrived in a space where you could let her be expressive, and Hunter provided her that. He encouraged her to be as creative and goofy and obnoxious as she wanted. And, somehow, they had figured out how to monetize it online. The cookie crumbled perfectly in that way.
She wanted to get lost in all the different ways she loved him, but it was almost impossible to actually start a list. Because as soon as she thought of one detail, it was almost immediately replaced and forgotten with another. He was just.... her world. She was obsessed with him. And she was pretty sure he was equally obsessed with her.
She assumed. She hoped.
KJ wasn’t actually a secure person. Some would even dare to call her insecure. And she felt justified in her anxiousness. Comparing herself to others was one of her most developed skills, and she never could measure up. So, if by some chance a girl who was just as pretty as she was, but twice as responsible came along, was there really any doubting that Hunter would take an interest? He was actually the perfect, functioning adult. One day he’d realize he was tired of babysitting a grown child. She just hoped it was on his death bed. Because KJ quite actually couldn’t live without him.
They’d be together forever if she had any say. And if you know any Faline, they have a lot to say.
And so what if they weren’t legally linked? KJ loved being with him no matter what. Did she sometimes dream about having the big wedding? Sure. Did she ever wonder if he even thought about asking her to get married? Yeah. Was she kind of concerned that he hadn’t asked yet because he didn’t want to permanently link himself to her in such a way that it would be difficult to leave her when he was ready? Who the fuck asked you?!
KJ’s brain snapped back to the kitchen when she smelled the smoke. While zoning out, she had splashed bacon grease onto the range and started a fire. Fucking ADHD.
What were you supposed to use on a grease fire again? All she could remember was not water, but she needed to put it out before the alarms went off and woke Hunter up.
Um.
Ummmm.
Flour!
Kj had no idea where they kept flour, or if they even had it, but the pancake mix sitting on the counter was the next best thing. Without giving herself a moment to second guess it, she dumped the box of powder onto the stove.
Well... on the stove, in the pan, and on the floor, technically.
She stared at it, willing it to not be all over the place. But, alas, there it was.
Kayla Jane, you’re an idiot.
But at least the apartment wasn’t up in flames.
Sighing, she dropped the empty box on the counter and skated to the corner deigned the living room in her socks. Her sleep tank and shorts were covered in mix now, but when was she ever put together? KJ picked up her phone and quickly ordered Postmates from their favorite diner, like the proper millennial she was. Should’ve done it in the first place, but she wanted to be romantic.
The second phase of the morning was cute enough anyway. It didn’t take her long to get her computer hooked up to their TV and get started on touching up the final bits of editing for her next video. KJ had become pretty savvy with anything techy since her career on YouTube took off. Not that she understood a single thing about engineering or how any of the machines actually functioned, but she could put it all together and operate it pretty easily if you gave her twenty minutes and a 5 Hour Energy to figure it out.
The doorbell rang and she ran to grab their food, knowing full well that he’d definitely get up for that. If he hadn’t smelled the smoke already.
Sure enough, Hunter stepped out of their room just as she finished unpacking their breakfast. KJ would never get over how insanely tall and good looking he was. Like, it wasn’t even fair.
But she sure did appreciate having the injustice in her bed.
He smiled at her and chuckled, probably laughing at how messy she was.
“Don’t go to the kitchen,” she warned, pointing a finger at him threateningly.
“It kind of smells like I should,” he replied.
“You absolutely should not. You should come kiss me and get your present instead.”
“That does sound much more pleasant.”
He graciously leaned down so she could stand on her toes and give him a peck on the mouth. She guided him to sit in front of the television and placed his food in front of him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, sunshine.”
Patience wasn’t really a Faline trait either, so she only gave him enough time to take two bites of food before she climbed into his lap and face the TV. “Okay, I made something.”
“You did? For me?”
“For you.”
“I’m touched.”
“You will be.”
“So will you.” He winked.
She licked his cheek. Then she pressed the enter key on her keyboard.
The video went live on her channel. A shaky close up of Hunter’s forehead came on screen. You could hear KJ’s laughter over the speakers as the camera zoomed out and you were able to see the picnic set up from one of their earliest dates. Minute by minute, the video played through a compilation of vlogs from the last four years of their relationship. Some were of their travel adventures, others were at home where Hunter was obviously unaware that she wasn’t filming. Two consisted of KJ being home alone, lamenting her state of abandonment while Hunter was on a business trip. Every clip, every piece, was carefully chosen to show how perfect they were.
KJ had been on social media for the last three years, but she had never made her relationship public to her audience. Anything regarding Hunter was posted to her private accounts that only friends and family could see. Even her family was often used as clickbait. But Hunter had been reserved as a secret, or marketed as just a friend. And she had never quite been able to explain why.
Part of it had been that she was afraid of karma. If she put them out their publicly, then maybe they’d break up and she’d have to announce to the world that she was alone and her person had left her. Or maybe it was because she was selfish and didn’t want him to get any attention outside of her (and Simon.)
But, around Christmas, she had decided that she wanted the entire planet to know how mad she was for her. She wanted her audience, people she loved and was inspired by, to see how lucky she was.
And she would cut any bitch who tried to bat a single eyelash at him.
The video was only about five minutes long, nowhere near the length of her usual challenges and vlog segments, but there was four years of love pieced throughout it. And she prayed to the universe that he got the bigger picture.
That she loved him more than anything on the entire planet.
It ended and she stretched her head back to see his expression, a proud smile on her face. For a moment, he just continued staring at the screen.
She knew it would take a moment to buffer in his brain. They had discussed forever ago that they’d never go public and he was okay with that. Hunter had never cared one way or the other, but KJ had insisted.
Now...
He looked down at her and she saw his blue eyes glisten. It made her smile wider. He was such an emotional tall man.
Climbing around to wrap her arms and legs around him, she sat up to look him directly in the face. “You’re my person. I’ve staked my claim across the globe now. So if any skanks try to make a move on you while you’re wherever your stupid job sends you, you now have live proof to show them that I will hunt them down and burn their eyebrows off.”
“Oh, it’ll have them and their eyebrows shaking in their kitten heels.” He grinned.
She kissed him. Hard.
“I love you, Green Giant.”
“I love you too, Thumbilina.”
KJ tucked her head into the crook of his neck and gave a happy sigh.
“So... What did you burn?”
“Oh my god, SHUT UP!”
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literaryfrustration · 7 years
Text
The start of a chapter
Returning to consciousness from my fragmented, seemingly ineffective sleep, a warm summers glow crept into my room. The night prior had been particularly humid and therefore resulted in my inability to rest my overactive mind for longer than half an hour. As a result, I was finding it increasingly difficult to put my thoughts in a logical order and compose myself to the point at which I could be a fully functioning human being. It was always this point in the year that I would have the most bizarre dreams about obscure situations with the most curious characters. My dream last night, or at least what I remember of it, was not any different. I had been hurled into an ethereal land where people were elfin and wore petticoats of blossom. Others wore suits of liquorish strung together by silk from a spider that was humorously disproportionate with grains of rice for legs. Trees, even saplings towered over entire villages. Occasionally I attempt to make sense of the utterly chaotic series of events that occur when I allow my eyes to shut. But very occasionally do I come to any form of conclusion that would be comprehendible to another being.
It could be speculated that I spend far too much time analysing what is essentially electrical impulses circulating the 3 pounds of grey matter that is my brain. It could be speculated that I'm losing my sanity. Although I have to admit, that speculation wouldn't be entirely untrue. I wouldn't say that I'm going mad as such... it wasn't as if I had possessed a particularly strong grip on reality to begin with, I suppose I just thought by this point, at 16 years of age, I thought I'd have a better grip of *things*. Nevertheless, I enjoyed these times to myself in the morning. It allowed me a small dose of peacefulness and calm before the chaos of everyday life was to ensue. Before the-
*KNOCK KNOCK*
"good morning sunshine!", a soft, wary voice called out from behind my handle-less bedroom door. Was it really appropriate to be awoken before ten o'clock on a weekend? I thought to myself. Not that I wasn't already awake but I was enjoying staring at my slightly dated cream ceiling and appreciating the sense of serenity that came with a post-dream state. My mother rarely disturbed me until the afternoon so I knew that I was being forced to go out. I don't hate going out. Equally, on the other hand, I don't love it but it just seemed such a chore recently. After being out for longer than four hours, my mind started to feel drained; all energy was replaced by a persistent desire to go home and sleep. It was as if my mind had a finite amount of tolerance for people and communication before I'd self destruct. Not literally, obviously, although sometimes it felt that way. I couldn't help but derive a sense of dread from my mothers early arrival, "morning", I half-whispered, far less enthusiastically than I had intended. I couldn't decide whether or not she was able to detect my obvious disliking for the notion that I should leave the house. Regardless she had already given me a glass of juice, my ADHD meds and a slice of over-buttered toast. Hmm, I thought attempting to deduce what todays plans were.
"We're going to have a family day" she beamed, cutting my train of thought short. I felt my entire body endeavour to suppress a gigantic sigh. Family days often entailed a trip to the seaside which I quite frankly loved, I don't know what it was about today that made it so difficult to grasp the concept that it would be enjoyable. I would often feel like this. It could be described as a sense of hopelessness that ate away at my will to live. I pondered this strange ominous feeling that made my palms tingle. The human body is quite curious when nervous, I thought. Some people fidget when they are nervous, others eat excessively whereas I, a human being living in a constant anxious state, sweat profusely. Mostly from my hands which wouldn't be particularly problematic if it wasn't ALL THE TIME. It had always been a thing, as long as I remember and it has always bothered me. I had always hated how anxiety is constantly glamourised because, I can tell you, there is nothing less glamorous than avoiding human contact because your hands feel as if they've been run under a tap 24-7. I'd see people holding hands and envy them slightly. Not that I really held hands with anyone for most of my life up until this point but still, it's a present thought. I feel as if I have an excess of thoughts. Every risk, however minor, is simultaneously analysed and added to reasons to panic. I think that would make a good book: "ten irrational reasons that you should be panicking right now". I think the first one would be trains. I have never liked trains. There's no specific, discernible reason why, I just can't stand them. I suppose one could speculate that it was the speed or the repetitive announcement pleading commuters to report suspicious activity, but it would most likely be more sensible to assume that it's a combination. I tend to draw negative connotations from the sleek, steel carriages. I suppose that had been reinforced a couple of months ago on one of the most nerve-racking days of my life.
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