#i will go into a full violent meltdown one of these days and hurt her and myself. im struggling to hold myself together | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pikapikabishes · 3 years

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It's Okay Now(Kirishima x gn!Reader)

Disclaimer: all characters rightfully belong to their original creators, only thing that is mine is the plot. Also do not copy my writing. Thank you

Summary: Class 3A's Y/n was having a jolly day hanging out with the BakuSquad, including her amazing bf of over 6 months, Eijirou Kirishima, even with all the stress piling up, like a shaken soda bottle ready to burst, until said explosion finally happened. Triggered by the littlest, probably stupidest event

Warnings: anxiety (?), panic attacks, not eating for days, mentions death, suggestive themes, a bit of swearing

Mentions: mental breakdown, overworking oneself, starvation, hyperventilating, ugly crying, kiri being absolutely biggest sweetheart, daddy!Kiri breifly

A/n: this is my first fic on Tumblr so please be nice, and if you enjoyed it, like and comment

Everything hurt. My head, my eyes, my chest, my mind. I don't even know what happened. One minute I'm perfectly fine, having a good time with my friends, the next I'm in this situation.

Im sitting in the middle of my dorm on the floor, crying and sobbing over the smallest thing. I admit being stressed with everything going on in my life; with upcoming school exams , training every single day to improve my ultimate moves, and the biggest clicher... my dad's passing a couple months prior.

This whole time I've just been bottling it all up, trying my hardest to put up a brave front as to not worry my mom, who already has a lot on her plate, my friends and boyfriend, Kirishima. To be frank, I haven't even told my class or Kiri, keeping a bright smile as to not hint them in on my life crashing down around me. Some days are easy to keep up my smile, to let my mind focus on something else, and then there are harder days when everything reminds me of my dad.

I was real close to him, we did a lot of fun stuff together; going to amusement parks, going out to see movies we both were really excited to watch, going out to eat at our favorite restaurants.

It still doesnt feel real after all this time. It felt just like yesterday he was perfectly fine, we were celebrating my grandma's birthday, and literally the next day, I find him stiff and eerily still in his bed. And then everything crashing down on me as the paramedics regretfully tell me that my dad was no longer of this world, when I sob into the phone to my mom that my dad was gone, when I listened to my grandma's wails as my mom told her of her son's passing.

It all felt so surreal, like if I go over to see my grandma at her house, I'll see my dad sitting there in the living room, greeting me with his smile and warm hugs and kisses.

I sob harder as I remember all the times we watched Disney movies and me crying at some scenes as my dad happily comforts me. Buying me a toy from one of the movies I adored at the time. Him gifting me a puppy when he moved into a new neighborhood and I didnt have anyone to play with.

My head's pounding, a deep pressure in my brain, as I clutch tightly to the same doll he bought me all those years ago. My screams silent as I try to keep my classmates from finding me in such a pathetic state and worrying about me, my brain not processing that everyone was still at school. I fought to take control of my emotions again, wanting to be strong for my mom, grandma, and my friends. Unknowning of the pace of my breathing as I desperately tried to grasp my emotions.

My stress and anxiety climbing higher with each panicked breath. All those late nights I stayed up studying as much as I can for the midterm exams, catching up to me. I even forsaken eating as to study so I can at least get a passing grade. And the times I didnt spend studying was spent training to try and get my mind to focus on anything rather than fully face the reality that I no longer live in a world with my dad in it.

When was the last time I had a fulfilling meal? Three days?? And the time before that?? I dont even remember, the pounding in my head preventing me from thinking too much. All I can think about is what caused this stupid meltdown in the first place, my frustrations climbing higher with my stress and anxiety.

~~~

Today was one of those days where it was hard to keep up my smile for people. In an attempt to cheer myself up, I made myself the same lunch my dad and I used to make together for later, excited to eat as this was my first actual meal in days.

As I stroll down the hallways to meet up with Kiri and the rest of the BakuSquad, someone in a rush, bumps into me full force, causing me to fall and drop my lunch on the floor. I only had a moment to grieve as I see my precious lunch splattered all over the floor before the person that bumped into me uttered a measly, rushed "sorry" before hurrying on their way, stepping my lunch in the process.

I stayed there in my position on the floor, looking at my lunch with grief. I know it was stupid to start crying over something that can be replaced with something else that Lunch Rush made, but there the crocodile tears were. My heart and mind had wanted that lunch.

Without thinking I got up and ran out of school and towards the dormitories, deaf to the calls of my fellow 3A classmates and the incoming call on my phone.

~~~

I was brought back to the present by the sound of pounding coming from my dorm door. I was still fighting for control, not able to send a reply without my sobs mixing in with my voice.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through the door. Of course it would be Kiri to be checking up on me. "I tried calling you to see where you were, but you didn't answer. Tsuyu told me she saw you running off upset when I went to go looking for you."

For some reason I sobbed harder, barely able to keep quiet.

"Princess/Prince, please tell me what's wrong, I'm getting really worried."

He stayed quiet for a moment, anxiously waiting for my response. And of course my body betrays me when an ugly sob wracks through my very being, unable to quiet it down.

"Princess/Prince, are you crying?!" Kiri's voice carried his panic and worry. "I'm coming in!" He warned before slamming the door open.

I barely raised my head to meet his worried crimson eyes as his giant frame took up most of the doorway, frozen. His expression falls at the sight of the giant crocodile tears running down my face, distress written all over my expression.

Without saying anything, he rushed over to my side, his big, warm hand landing on my back, immediately rubbing gentle circles as to comfort me.

"Baby, what's wrong? Tell me," he asked, voice trying to soothe me. I shook my head, unable to say or utter a word and I dropped my head again, breathing erratic. "You're hyperventilating, baby. You need to try and calm down a bit."

More sobs was the only thing I responded with. Hearing some shuffling, a moment passed before a soft calming melody sounded through the storm in my mind, along with the sound of gentle falling rain. It was the same several hour music track that I would usually listen to when something was bothering me.

I've always loved the sound of falling rain and ocean waves.

Kiri dropped his phone to the floor, letting the music wrap us in its soothing melody. He brought his hand to my cheek to gently bring my face up and face him. His expression sad as he gets a better look at my distraught, of the crocodile tears streaming down my face, of the deep sadness in my eyes.

Letting his other hand to join my face, he gently wiped away my tears as I tried to control my breathing. "Baby, you have to calm down. It's okay now, I'm here," he said in a gentle voice, bringing me up onto his lap, and wrapping his strong arms around me.

I clutch onto his uniform jacket, burying my face into his chest as I sobbed away, ruining his uniform with my tears and snot.

He gently rocked the both of us, bringing one of his hands up to my head as he softly brushed his fingers through my hair. "Shhh, baby. It's okay. It's okay," he whispered in my ear.

I don't know how long we sat there, listening to falling rain, Kiri rocking us, whispering calming words into my ear before my breathing was back to normal and my sobs turning into sniffles. Even long after I've calmed down, Kiri still held onto me tightly, grounding me from the storm whirling in my mind.

Only when I lifted up my head from his chest to look up at him did he give me a soft smile, reaching up to brush away strands of hair from my face and eyes. Then, Kiri reached over to his phone, pausing the music before turning back to me.

"Feeling better?"

I slowly nodded my head, my voice hoarse as I finally managed to give a reply, "Yeah, a little bit."

"What happened back there?" Kiri asked, his brow furrowed in worry.

Tears were already welling up in my (e/c) eyes, my bottom trembling as I fought to hold back the tears. Kiri reached up one hand to hold my chin, his thumb softly brushing my bottom lip.

"Please baby, I hate seeing you so distraught," he told me, eyes full of concern as he continued to stroke my bottom lip, as if trying to coax the words to come out, to explain what was paining me so much so he can fix it.

"I-" I stuttered, sniffling back the tears. "I miss him."

"Miss who, baby?" Kiri asked, confused.

"M-my dad," I said, voice now shaky as the tears started falling again. "I m-miss him so much."

Kiri seemed to come to the conclusion that I might have only been extremely homesick. "Why dont you go visit him today then? It's Friday, so you can just stay with him for the weekend."

I violently shook my head. "I-I can't."

"Why not, baby?" He started stroking my back again to try and comfort me.

"H-he died! Two months ago!" I sobbed, pressing my face to his chest again.

"Oh fuck. Shit, I am soo sorry baby. Why didn't you tell me?" Kiri asked, hugging me tightly to him. "I would've been there for you."

"I-I didn't w-want to w-worry y-you," I cried.

Kirishima started rocking us both again, his grip on me tighter as if trying to hold me together. "Of course I'm going to be worried baby. I have been worried about you. I noticed you've been distancing yourself for a while now, but I didn't want to make you talk when you weren't ready. God, I'm so unmanly, not realizing that you were in so much pain all this time." He placed his hand on top of my head. "I am sooo sorry, baby."

I sniffled, shaking my head. "D-Don't be. I w-was the one who d-decided not to t-tell any of you g-guys. I-it's not your f-fault."

"But why didn't you tell us baby? You know we all would've been here for you."

I shrugged. "I-I just wanted to be s-strong for y-you guys. I d-didn't want to w-worry any of you."

"Oh, babe." He pulled back enough to look at me. "You are strong. But it's okay to lean on us, on mee. Just because you're crying, doesn't make you weak. You're mourning, and its okay to cry when you're mourning. It just shows how close you are with your dad and how much you're missing him."

"But... But it feels like my fault though," I cried.

"What do you mean?" His brows furrowed again in confusion.

"I... I was there that night. The night he passed." I wiped at the tears even though it was fruitless with how the tears continued to fall. "We were all happily celebrating my grandma's birthday. We were all laughing. And I went to sleep a bit late that night. I noticed how his was position in his bed when I got up to use the bathroom, but I didnt think any of it. My dad sits in that position sometimes, and I know that he goes to sleep way later than me. And when I woke up at 11 the next morning because of my grandma calling for me, I got up to see what she needed. You remember, that my grandma cant really move around that well anymore?" I asked him.

Kiri nodded his head, remembering that I helped my grandma when the two of us had dinner with my dad and grandma. "So when I got up and headed towards her room, I saw my dad in the same position. But figured he must've just fallen asleep... Then I went to use the bathroom after helping my grandma, and when I looked closer, I noticed how swollen his feet were. I... I knew my dad was always sick and his legs getting swollen all the time, but... I-I just didnt think I'd find him like that." I cried, covering my mouth as another sob wracked threw me. "Vomit... All over the blankets and his bierd... A blood clot hanging from his nose-"

"Shhh, its okay, baby" Kiri hushed me, rubbing my back, "If it's too much for you, you don't have to explain anymore."

After waiting for my breathing to stabilize again, I continued, "I... I just feel like if I had checked up on him before I went to bed... Maybe... Maybe the paramedics would've been able to save him..."

Kiri grabbed onto my shoulders to pull me away so as to look me dead in the eyes with a stern look. "Y/n, listen to me. It is not your fault," he said firmly. "Okay? It is not your fault. Sometimes these things happen."

"But-" I started, but he cut me off.

"No but's. Okay? I know I havent known him as long as you, but I could tell from the first time I met him that he was soo proud of you. And probably still is." His words made me cry harder, my bottom lip trembling again as I tried to pull myself together in front of this amazing man in front of me. "There's no need to beat yourself up over this," Kiri said, pressing a kiss to my forehead as I started bawling my eyes out again. Kiri started rocking us again, holding me tight as I let out all my sadness and anguish.

"Shhhh... It's okay... Everything's will be okay..." He mumbled in my ear. "Let it all out."

We stayed like that for the next hour as I let out all my suffering, the scent of his cologne, the comforting words, and the sound of the music track all lulling me to sleep, my mind and body too heavy to fight it off.

~~~

I woke up to a dark room, the sun long gone over the horizon. I blearily blinked my eyes open, feeling my tears dried over the skin of my cheeks. All of a sudden, a warm hand slides under my shirt, rubbing a thumb on my stomach. A face was then buried into the back of my neck, a soft pair of lips kissing at the skin.

"Morning beautiful/handsome," came Kiri's sleep filled voice

"Mmnn what time is it?" I mumbled.

Kiri pulled away for a moment, turning to reach behind him for presumably his phone on my nightstand. Squinting at the glare of the phone, Kiri gave me an answer, "7 o'clock at night, so its just about dinner time." Dropping his phone back onto the nightstand, he resumed his position of spooning me, completely dwarfing my body with his giant frame. "You haven't ate lunch right?"

I shook my head. "Or breakfast. Or dinner last night. Or any meals for the past few days."

"What?" Kiri shot up, glaring down at me. "And the time before that?"

I shrugged, my brain too drained to think of a solid answer. "Couple days."

"Y/n!"

"I know, I know. I shouldn't be skipping my meals everyday. I should eat at least once a day."

"Is that why you look thinner? Cause you've been skipping your meals??!"

I shrug at him. "I was busy studying for the midterms. Besides I never went 3 days without eating something."

"That's not the point!" Kiri rubbed his hand down his face before looking at me with worry. "You shouldn't be skipping any meals or overworking yourself like this." He reached over to brush a lock of hair away. "Babe, my heart hurts at the thought of you not taking care of yourself."

I place my hand on top of his, leaning into his touch. "I know... I'm sorry. I didnt mean to worry you like this. I just... couldn't come to terms with reality so I busied myself to make me forget the pain. On the bright side I came up with this new, awesome ultimate move I've been dying to show you," I said with some excitement, trying to cheer him up.

He scowled sternly at me for a moment before sighing, shaking his head, any trace of worry and frustration gone from his face as a small smile took over his lips. "Alright fine." But then the stern look came back as he firmly told me, "But I'm not letting you skip any meals anymore, even if I have to force you to eat. And you're not doing no studying or training this weekend."

"Wait, but-" I tried to counter, stopped when the stern look in his eyes intensified.

"No if's, and's or but's. Unless its yours up in the air as I fuck you so hard you wont be able to do anything this weekend but relax."

I blushed and swallowed loudly. "Good, now wait here while I go get you a plate. Bakugou's supposed to be cooking tonight." He leaned down to plant a kiss on my lips. Then another. Then another and another before pulling away only slightly to look into my eyes with that familiar dark look in his eyes, a smirk forming on his handsome face. "Maybe I should grab you two plates. You're going to need it for fuel for tonight."

My faced burned as I realized what he meant. He chuckled darkly before standing up and walking towards the door. "I'll be back in a few. And you better be stripped down to nothing by the time I get back." Turning back towards me with a seductive look. "Don't you worry about a thing, baby girl/boy. Daddy's going to take real good care of you this weekend." Then he opened the door and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

I gulped loudly, already feeling that familiar heat down below.

It was going to a long weekend.

#gender neutral #anguish #daddy kirishima #mentally drained #kirishima eijiro x reader #my hero academia

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nostuntmanneeded · 3 years

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I actually have a little theory I'd like to share. It's long so bear with me.

So this whole thing started as a "standard" PR relationship with the typical yacht shots, obligatory in all PR rs 🙄 I'm certain that back then no one foresaw the fandom erupting violently the way it did, pointing out her CA and calling their rs bullshit. Now here we have a rich spoiled brat who is used to getting everything she wanted since birth. Losing to a bunch of random stranger is definitely not in her dictionary. So she set out to prove all this doubters wrong by following him everywhere (and really it was ideal, during that time Europe was in heavy lockdown, so going to the relatively free US and other countries is actually a plus. Win win for her) and documenting every single intimate moment for "ammunition"

Now at this time, I believe he's still against this whole "war" with the fans/haters so he may have asked her not to be too upfront about it, hence it was all a bit toned down, vague baitings only. To those who wondered why she didn't post all those videos as it happened, I think this is why.

As the hate continues to escalate, he likely reached a breaking point, most obvious in the Variety interview where he basically had a mini meltdown showing he's had enough. That's probably when he flipped a switch and got onboard with her. Boom! Release the Kraken! Birthday videos and she officially appeared on his post. His comment on her video for his bday to me was a very clear message of his state of mind. 🔪❤ = eat your heart out, haters! The "I'm dead" that followed was probably him realizing it also exposed his whereabouts and irresponsible behaviour during the pandemic (confirming him as a hypocrite).

From then on it's full on "war with the haters" mode with him cooperating fully. Photos with family and friends, his (disgusting 🤮) humping video for Jon, video call in Venice (even if it's recorded, he cooperated to record it), intimate family dinner, feeling each other up in the park (jeez how low can you go 🙄), you name it.

At the moment they are both busy working and are not physically together, so how to continue this? Blog and sm inflitration of course. Random anon accounts have been sending in asks to blogs speculating about how they first met, pregnancy rumours, or just picking up fights and stirring shit in general to engage and keep people's interest until they can be together again, most likely at Christmas. So prepare yourselves for a "festive" season with this two.

Now how "festive" this reunion will be, I believe depends on our reaction and interest in them from now leading to it. The more we fight them (keep calling out her CA and pointing out the fakeness of their rs), show desperation (keep wondering when it will end), or suffer (actually crying at the thought of them tying the knot or having a baby), the bigger the come back would be. Remember, they *want* to hurt you who dared doubt them and attacked them, and actually take joy at seeing you suffer.

How do you handle a stubborn spoiled child who is throwing a tantrum? You either 1. Give in and give them what they want, or 2. Ignore them until they tire themselves out. Fighting them will only make the tantrum escalate and last longer, right? Now of course I can't control how people react, but just brace yourselves and in the end whatever happened, whatever shit they pulled, please, please don't let these people ruin your Christmas or holiday season. They are NOT worth it.

This is pretty good theory.

I think that Alejandra's controversies did have something to do with how this all escalated and went down, but I don't think every single event that happened was Sebastian's passive-aggressiveness.

Really, Sebastian has only mentioned her on Instagram a few times out of almost a year and a half of being together. And even then, his posts are silly and not special at all.

I also think his team has something to do with this as well. He could be told when to post things and what to post. We have to remember that he's being represented by a group of agents, so they sometimes handle what he does and says.

I do agree that the attention they're getting (good or bad) is the thing that keeps the relationship going. Sometimes it's just not worth it to give it the time of day. We have to learn to distance ourselves from it and maybe it'll calm down once and for all.

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inkwell1013 · 3 years

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Snapshots - Persona 5

Pairings: Yusuke Kitagawa & Yusuke Kitagawa’s mother, Yusuke Kitagawa & Ren/Akira, Yusuke Kitagawa & Madarame, Yusuke Kitagawa & Natsuhiko (all plationic/familial)

Genre: Angst, shameless angst, one shot, found family, 5+1 fic.

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: This fic deals with some heavy topics, including child abuse, emotional abuse, meltdowns, the death of a parent, a mention of suicide, unhealthy eating habits and alcohol abuse.

Summary: There’s a funny thing about memories. Some of clear and defined – like a photograph – while others are hazy and vague like a half-finished sketch. Still, they define a person just as much as the choices they make or the friends they keep. All of Yusuke's most important memories are about Madarame. Thinking back on his life, he wondered how he missed all the red flags.

Five moments in Yusuke's life chronically his life with Madarame and one moment after he leaves him.

- - - - -

Age 3

“Mama, play with me,” whined Yusuke, tugging on his mother’s sleeve.

His mother sighed, setting her paintbrush down on her easel. “I can’t play with you right now Yusuke.”

Yusuke pouted. “But I want to play!”

“Why don’t you draw instead?” she said. “I promise I’ll play with you once I’ve finished this painting. Okay?”

Yusuke beamed. “Okay, Mama.”

She gave him an easy smile and fetched his crayons and some paper from the shelf. She passed them over to him and went to get some more paint. Yusuke sat down at the table and started scribbling. Slowly, the picture began to take form. A neat brick house with a wild garden next to it.

It was a world away from the decrepit house they shared with Madarame. The shack was nailed together from sheets of scrap metal and was so unstable that a particularly strong gust of wind could have knocked it over.

Two people were standing in front of the house. A dark-haired woman and a small boy. Him and his mama. Just the two of them. They would finally be happy there away from everyone else. Away from Madarame.

Yusuke didn’t like Madarame. He was scary. Mama tried to make them spend time together, but Yusuke would always throw a tantrum and demand to be let go. She would always concede and let him run off, but he knew she and Madarame weren’t pleased about it.

“What is your painting going to be Mama?” he asked, as he coloured in the sky a bright blue. He imagined that they would live far out in the country, away from the grey skies of Tokyo.

“It’s a surprise!” she answered, tapping him on the nose as she walked back to her easel. “But it’s going to be a present for you.”

“A present for me? Can I see it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not until it’s done. You can’t know what it is, because then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Yusuke went back to his drawing.

After a few minutes, Yusuke realised that he was thirsty. He turned around in his chair. “Mama, can I go get a drink?” he asked.

She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, holding onto the easel and quivering. He hurried over and gave her a little shake to get her attention.

“Mama!” he cried. “Are you okay?”

She convulsed and fell backwards, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Her body and twitched, as if there were electricity flowing through her veins. Yusuke didn’t know what to do. He tried to shake her awake, but that just made her tremble even more. He yelled Madarame’s name until his throat hurt but he didn’t come to help.

Yusuke didn’t remember much after that. Everything was hazy, like a drawing smeared over with chalk dust. He remembered a dark figure loitering in the doorway, it’s face bland and uncaring. It stood there for a good few minutes. Standing. Staring. Waiting.

By the time that she had stopped shaking, it was gone. Yusuke was crying. Then, he heard sirens. He slammed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, trying to block out the terrible noise. The sound dimmed but wasn’t gone completely. He curled up into a ball and rocked himself, trying to calm the swirling emotions in his chest.

He had been doing that for some time when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, hoping it would be his mother. Instead, his eyes met with those of a stranger. Startled, he shuffled backwards. The man was wearing a dark green uniform and had a kind-looking face.

“Hey kid,” he said softly. “Are you back in the real world?”

Yusuke gave a hesitant nod. “That’s good,” continued the stranger. “You gave us a real scare there but your daddy told us not to worry.”

Yusuke furrowed his brows. “I don’t have a daddy,” he mumbled.

“Your grandpa then?” Yusuke said nothing, just shaking his head.

“No grandpa either? Then who’s the man downstairs?”

“Madarame is Mama’s friend,” said Yusuke.

He looked to his mother, who was still lying on the floor. There was dust in her long dark hair, which was splayed out above her head. She wasn’t shaking anymore, which was good.

“Can I talk to my mama?” he asked. “She fell asleep, but she’ll be awake by now.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this kid…” The man looked over to his friend, who was knelt next to Yusuke’s mother. The woman, who was wearing the same uniform as him, shook her head. The man bit his lip and held out his hand to pull Yusuke to his feet.

“Let’s go downstairs,” he said.

“I don’t understand… Is she going to be okay?”

The man shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Your mother has passed away.”

Yusuke knew at that moment - when everything he knew came crashing down around him – that they would never have that perfect crayon scribbled life.

Age 7

Yusuke was bored of waiting for Madarame to finish painting, so he decided to explore. He was curious to see what he would uncover in the drafty, old shack. Maybe there would be buried treasure under the floorboards or a wild beast living in the basement.

Yusuke always had an overactive imagination. He made stuff up for the fun of seeing where his mind would lead him. Sometimes it would take him to faraway fantasy lands full of awe and magic. Other times he would find himself somewhere mysterious and dark, full of horrifying creatures - like the dark shadow that watched his mother die.

He was so deep in his head that he nearly slammed headfirst into an unfamiliar door.

It was covered in pretty peacock feathers, all painted in swirls of blue and gold. He ran his fingers along the ridges and crevices in the paint, marvelling at the way it was layered. The style and technique were nothing like Madarame's and it made him wonder who painted it. Could it have been one of his previous students?

He stood on the tips of his toes and grabbed a hold of the handle. Just as he was about to swing open the door, someone grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him backwards. He whipped his head around and saw that it was Madarame.

“Sensei, what’s in this room?” he asked.

Madarame slapped him so hard that Yusuke was knocked to the floor.

Still reeling from the shock and confusion, Yusuke raised a shaky hand to his cheek. It hurt to touch.

“You are not allowed in that room,” growled Madarame. “Do you understand me?”

Yusuke nodded through the tears which threatened to fall from his face.

You are not gonna cry. You are not gonna cry. You are not gonna cry.

Maybe if he repeated it enough, it would be true.

Madarame stormed off in a violent temper, leaving a shaken-up Yusuke to continue with his day like everything was normal. He went to eat dinner with his fellow pupils. Natsuhiko raised an eyebrow at Yusuke’s bright red cheek but said nothing, handing him his food wordlessly. The rest of the pupils stayed similarly tight-lipped. Yusuke swore he could see the tiniest hint of sympathy on their faces.

After wolfing down his food, he excused himself and went to bed, thoughts swirling in his mind.

Why would Madarame hurt him like this? Madarame loved him. It didn’t make any sense.

The next morning, Madarame came down for breakfast like normal and Yusuke briefly wondered if he just imagined it all.

Everyone else found a reason to leave the room, leaving Madarame and Yusuke alone.

Madarame spoke first. “I'm sorry you’re upset Yusuke, but you have to understand this from my point of view. That room is where I keep all my old paintings and if you were to damage them, I would be upset. You understand, right? I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Yusuke gave a hesitant nod. Madarame stood up and patted him on the shoulder. “Good. I love you Yusuke,” he said, as he left.

Yusuke was still curious about the contents of the room (perhaps even more now that he knows it’s full of paintings) but when he went to investigate later that day, he found that it was sealed with a heavy padlock.

So, he left it alone and tried to push the ordeal to the back of his mind.

Age 9

Tidying up the studio was one of Yusuke’s chores. Madarame had never asked him to do it, but he always blamed Yusuke when it was messy in there, so Yusuke learned it was expected of him.

He dumped the pallets and paintbrushes in the sink. Turning on the tap, he watched the paint run together and wash down the sink.

Madarame usually let Yusuke paint with him - as long as he behaved - but Yusuke had been exiled from the studio for two weeks now. He understood though – Madarame had to focus on his pieces for the upcoming exhibition.

Madarame had always been short tempered but the past few days had been worse than usual. It was okay though. He was just stressed about the exhibit; Yusuke was sure everything would go back to normal once it was done.

It was quiet. Natsuhiko had gone on an errand, so it was just him and Madarame. The shack always felt empty now that there was only three people.

Madarame used to have lots of students back when Yusuke was younger but over time, they had all left. Yusuke didn't really know why but he didn't want to risk upsetting Madarame by asking.

A few open cans of paint were sitting on the windowsill next to a drying painting. Yusuke went to put them away but something about the painting made him stop to take a closer look.

Madarame had signed it, but it didn’t look anything like his style. Had he really painted this?

The longer Yusuke looked at it, the more confused he got. The strokes of the brush were familiar and…

The realisation hit him. This was Natsuhiko’s work. He had painted it and let Madarame sign it as if it was his own. Why would he do that? It was didn’t make sense.

He was so consumed by his thoughts that he didn’t even notice that he had knocked over the paint until it was seeping into the canvas. Panicking, he swept the it out of the pool of red, hoping it would still be salvageable.

Yusuke snatched a rag from the cupboard and desperately tried to wipe off the paint but it quickly became obvious that the painting was too damaged to be saved.

That was how Madarame had found him – scrubbing at the ruined painting with a rag, red stains all over his hands and forearms.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and flapping his hands to calm himself. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

Madarame prowled over to him, like a wolf stalking its prey. Yusuke expected the slap but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “I’m sorry Sensei. I swear it was an accident,” he mumbled, tears welling in his eyes again.

“Apologising isn’t going to fix this Yusuke.”

“I know, I just… I can’t… I don’t...” He could barely get a word out. His hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“Oh, stop that!” snapped Madarame, grabbing Yusuke by the wrists. “I didn’t want to do this again but you’ve given me no choice. Come on.”

Yusuke allowed himself to be dragged down the corridor, thinking that Madarame would just yank him upstairs and maybe shut him in his room. That wouldn’t be so bad.

His eyes widened when Madarame pulled him past the stairs and a little further down the hall. He dug his heels into the ground and tried to wrench his arms from Madarame’s grasp. Madarame just tightened his grip, digging in his fingernails harshly.

“Sensei please!” he cried. “Please! I’m sorry.”

“You have to learn.”

“But I don’t want to!”

“Do you think I care what you want?” yelled Madarame, hauling Yusuke into the cupboard beneath the stairs. “This is for your own good.”

With that, Madarame slammed the door shut and locked it. Yusuke screamed to be let out, but was ignored. He tried to force open the door, but only succeeded in making himself exhausted. Defeated, he sunk down to the floor.

There was a miniscule crack in the wood which let in a little light, but it wasn’t enough to illuminate the dark cupboard. Of all the punishments he endured from Madarame, this was the one he hated the most. It was cramped and uncomfortable, and he never knew how long it would last. Madarame would let him out once he felt he had learned his lesson, whenever that was.

His wrists hurt where Madarame had dug in his nails. Yusuke wasn’t sure if they were bleeding or not – it was dark enough in the cupboard that he couldn’t discern the difference between the paint and the possible blood – but it hurt all the same. Why did Madarame hurt him like this?

It’s because you were bad.

Was that true? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know anything anymore.

He had been in there for some time when the front door creaked open. Yusuke heard footsteps coming toward him. He peered through the crack and saw that it was Natsuhiko, home from running errands.

“Yusuke, where are you?” called Natsuhiko.

“I’m in here!” responded Yusuke. “Can you let me out?”

“Yusuke? I can’t believe that he… Not again. Are you hurt?”

“Only a little,” said Yusuke. “I might be bleeding.”

Natsuhiko mumbled something under his breath that Yusuke couldn’t quite hear. “I’m calling the police,” he said. “He’s been getting away with this for too long.”

He could hear Natsuhiko talking to the police, and even though he was pretending to be confident, his voice was trembled with every word. He was talking so quickly that Yusuke couldn’t make out the words.

There was a long pause and Natsuhiko mumbled a thank you. Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing?” shouted Madarame.

“I’ve called the police,” said Natsuhiko. “You can’t keep treating Yusuke like this. I won’t let you!”

“You have no right to tell me how to parent my son, Natsuhiko. This is a punishment – nothing more,” said Madarame.

“This is abuse!” yelled Natsuhiko. “I’ve being turning a blind eye to it for too long but this ends today.”

“I can’t believe you are doing this to me!” growled Madarame, grabbing Natsuhiko’s arm. “You’re going to regret this.”

“No!” roared Natsuhiko, snatching his arm out of Madarame’s grip. “You’re not going to control me anymore. I am done! I’m not that fifteen-year-old boy you picked up off the street. Not anymore. I’ve had enough of you using and manipulating me. This ends today.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” said Madarame. “You don’t understand anything about the world Natsuhiko. You’re so naïve, still just a child.”

Natsuhiko violently shook his head. “I’m not a child anymore. I am nineteen and I know what I am talking about. You’ve been mistreating me for so long. You abused all of us. That’s why everyone else is gone. You hurt them so much they couldn’t stand to be here anymore. You’re the reason that Tatsuo has a panic attack every time he picks up a paintbrush. You’re the reason Miki shakes in terror whenever she’s around men. You’re the reason that Yukki killed herself!”

“YOU’RE INSANE!” bellowed Madarame, grabbing onto Natsuhiko’s collar. “Do you think I wanted that to happen? I loved you all like my own children.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it. We’re terrified of you.”

“How dare you treat me like this! I took you in when no one else wanted you. I saw potential in you when you were just a homeless delinquent - when everyone saw you as trash – and this is how you treat me?” He sounded genuinely upset and Yusuke felt a little guilty.

Madarame continued. “You’ve always been manipulative but this is a new low, even for you. Prank calling 911 is a crime you know.”

“I didn’t…”

“Yes, you did. You called the police out of spite. All because you want revenge for nothing.”

Natsuhiko stared at him. “That’s not- I’m didn’t- You’re lying.”

“Let’s see what the cops think,” growled Madarame. “Whose story are they going to believe? The accomplished, famous artist or the high school drop out who never amounted to anything? I know who’s side I’d be on.”

There was a ring at the front door. “That will be them now. It’s not too late to back down.”

Natsuhiko faltered for a moment - for just long enough for Yusuke to think he had given up – before giving Madarame a sharp glare and shaking his head.

“Suit yourself,” said Madarame. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

***

The officer inspected Yusuke’s wrist. Traces of blood lingered amongst the red paint.

“You’re saying he did this?” asked the officer, gesturing towards Natsuhiko. Madarame gave a nod.

“I’m afraid so,” he sighed. "Natsuhiko tends to get a little aggressive with his brother when they play.”

“Bullshit!” yelled Natsuhiko. “You’re lying.”

“Don’t speak to your father like that,” snapped the officer.

“But nothing he’s saying is true,” said Natsuhiko desperately. “He’s the one who hurt Yusuke, not me.”

The officer sighed and stood up. “Calling the police under false pretences is a crime. I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t do it again. If we’re done here, I need to leave.”

“You can’t leave.” Natsuhiko grabbed a hold of the officer’s sleeve. “Please, he’s lying.”

“Let it go kid,” said the officer. He slammed the front door shut on his way out.

“Go to your room Yusuke,” hissed Madarame.

Yusuke eyes flicked between Madarame and Natsuhiko, unsure and frightened.

Natsuhiko gave him a brave smile. “I’ll be okay Yusuke,” he said. “You can go.”

***

Natsuhiko limped into Yusuke’s room a while later, a shadow of the person he was, voided of all his courage. His left eye was bruised purple and black, and his lip was split down the middle.

“What did he do to you?” asked Yusuke.

“Nothing he hasn’t done before,” said Natsuhiko, sitting on Yusuke’s bed. “If you could leave today, would you do it?” he asked, wiping the blood from his lip.

There was a long empty pause

“I would,” he admitted. “Are you going to leave?”

Natsuhiko stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

***

The next morning, Yusuke woke up to a single post-it note on his bedroom door. It had a phone number written on it, as well as two words.

I’m sorry.

Age 13

Yusuke had finished his first proper painting. He called it Grief. It had taken him hours and he was satisfied with it. The way the colours and shapes twisted upon each other was perfect and the colours were just right, which was satisfying. He had spent so long picking the right shades of blue and red that he worried he would have gone mad.

There was something profound about it. It was an apt representation of how he felt about his mothers passing - tornado of sorrow and bitterness. He barely remembered her but there was still an empty hole she had left in his heart that nothing seemed to fill.

Yusuke had proudly showed it to Madarame, rambling about his inspiration and the techniques he had used. Madarame gave him an impressed smile, that seemed ever so slightly forced.

Then, he asked Yusuke something strange. “Do you remember the day your mother died?”

“I don’t,” lied Yusuke. His recollection of the day was vague but there were shards of the memory clinging to his mind. He remembered a dark shadow, and the kind man who came to help him. He wanted to tell Madarame about the shadow, but he would never believe Yusuke.

Besides, the selfish part of his brain wanted to hold onto the final moments of his mothers life for himself.

“That’s good,” said Madarame. “I wouldn’t want you to remember something so... traumatic.” He tapped the painting. “Do you mind if I hold onto this for a little longer? I need to have a closer look before I can give you feedback.” Yusuke had been more than happy to let him keep the painting.

Two weeks later, Madarame held an abrupt exhibit. Yusuke had been excited to see what art would be on display. Madarame had been struggling with significant art block for weeks and Yusuke was glad that he was feeling creative again.

Yusuke was floored when he saw the principal piece of the exhibit. It was the painting he had poured his heart and soul into encased in a gaudy ,golden frame.

For a moment, he thought Madarame had put it up by accident. He glanced around. His mentor was just a few feet away, happily chatting with a critic. He hadn’t even noticed the mistake. Should he tell him?

Madarame walked over and stopped in front of the painting. He would have to realise his mistake now. Right? The critic studied the artwork with an enamoured look on his face. “This is a fascinating piece,” he said. “I'd love to know your inspiration.”

Madarame gave a serpent’s grin. “This piece is one of my favourites in this collection. It plays with the concept of fame and how it effects one’s ability to create art.”

The fan nodded. “I see. That makes a remarkable amount of sense.”

Bullshit! Everything Madarame had said was bullshit. He had stolen Yusuke’s art. Yusuke had ripped open his own heart and poured it onto the canvas, and Madarame had taken it like it meant nothing. Yusuke wouldn’t have minded Madarame taking credit for it either, as long as he had asked and hadn’t corrupted the meaning like that. That was unforgivable.

He listened to the two men talk for a little while longer. Once the critic was gone, he pulled Madarame far away from prying eyes or ears.

“Why did you steal my painting?” he demanded.

Madarame frowned. “I didn’t steal anything Yusuke. You agreed to let me use it for this exhibit.”

“I agreed for let you keep it for a bit. I never agreed to this!”

“Stop being so selfish,” snapped Madarame. “I’ve done everything for you these past years. You owe me. The least you can do is stop being such a brat.”

“But this painting is so personal...” muttered Yusuke, looking anywhere but Madarame’s face. Why did he feel like the bad guy? Madarame was in the wrong. Madarame had stolen from him and lied and hurt him. So why did Yusuke feel so guilty about upsetting him?

“All paintings are personal,” said Madarame. “Yours is nothing special.”

“But I –"

“You’re being ridiculous Yusuke. This conversation is over. You agreed to this and getting upset over nothing isn’t helping anyone. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an exhibit to attend to.” He whirled around and walked away, leaving Yusuke standing alone, confused and guilty.

Age 15

The feeling of the paintbrush in Yusuke’s hand was familiar and reassuring. The growling feeling in his stomach was familiar as well, though it did nothing to comfort him. He put down his brush and looked up from the painting he was working on.

“I’m hungry,” he said.

Madarame sipped his green tea. “Be patient.”

Yusuke frowned. “But I want to eat now.”

“Don’t be selfish Yusuke.”

“But—”

“Just finish this painting, then you can eat,” Madarame stood up and setting his cup in the sink.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He patted Yusuke on the shoulder as he left the room. Yusuke listened to him fetch his coat, leave the house and lock the door behind him. It wasn’t unusual for Madarame to go out in the evenings, so Yusuke paid it no mind.

He returned to his painting, the hunger gnawing at him like a wild beast.

Yusuke finished his painting after a few hours and immediately went to start another. It wasn’t that late, not really. It was barely even dark outside. Besides, the more work he did, the happier Sensei was. It was a simple equation really. Hard work went in one end and kindness came out the other.

The next time he checked the clock, it was nearly midnight. His eyes strained when he pulled them away from the canvas. When had it gotten so late?

He really should eat something.

When he checked the fridge, he found it was nearly empty. Yusuke wouldn’t be sent grocery shopping until Sunday and the food would have to last until then. Besides, the gnawing in his stomach had calmed a bit. He could survive another night.

Something deep down told him he doesn’t deserve anything anyway.

Yusuke tidied up after himself and went to his frigid room. It was always cold in there because the radiators didn’t work. They broke down a few weeks after Natsuhiko left and had never been fixed.

He didn’t have much - just his futon, a small table and an easel in the corner - but it was enough. Madarame had always preached that worldly possessions and wealth corrupted an artist. You couldn’t be creative if you were happy and content. You needed to suffer.

Art is borne through suffering. Art requires sacrifice. Pain is temporary but Art is forever.

He lay down on his futon, exhausted and hungry. A tiny shard of anxiety lingered in his mind, keeping him awake. Madarame still wasn’t home. It was unusual for him to stay out this late without warning Yusuke first.

Yusuke was probably just being paranoid. Everything would be fine. His sleep slowly came to him, like snow settling on the ground, only to kicked around by the first person to deem it’s existence inconvenient to them.

He was startled from his brief rest by a sharp banging at the door. Yusuke dragged himself out of bed and went to let him in. Opening the door, he saw something he didn’t expect.

It was Madarame.

He was drunk.

Yusuke knew that Madarame drank – it wasn’t a secret – but he had never actually seen him drunk before. Whenever he stayed out late, he would slink off to bed while Yusuke was asleep, being careful to not wake him up. Yusuke would find him hungover the next morning and connect the dots.

Madarame looked like shit. That was the simplest way to describe it. There was vomit down his shirt, he reeked of whisky and his hair was wild and unkempt, as if he had been caught in a hurricane on his way home. He swayed on his feet, to intoxicated to keep his balance.

“What are you doing awake?” he slurred. “It’s late. You have school tomorrow.”

I was up late worrying about you.

“You’re drunk,” said Yusuke, slightly more accusatory than he intended.

Madarame bristled. “I’m not drunk,” he snapped. “I’m just a little… tipsy.”

Why does he even bother to lie?

“I think I’m going to be sick again,” muttered Madarame, stumbling into the house.

Yusuke grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the bathroom. Madarame retched and Yusuke went to pull his hair out of his face so he didn’t get sick in it.

As it turns out, helping your drunk father puke at one o’clock in the morning is not fun. Madarame looked rather pathetic, and Yusuke wondered why he kept doing this to himself. It only ever brought him pain.

Helping Madarame into his bedroom, Yusuke handed him a clean set of clothes. He turned around while Madarame got changed and took the soiled clothes from him afterwards.

“You are so much like your mother Yusuke,” croaked Madarame, as he settled down. “Sometimes, when I look at you, I see her eyes staring back at me.”

Yusuke didn’t remember his mother, but from the few blurry pictures that he had found around the shack, left forgotten in notebooks and stashed away in drawers, he knew they looked a lot alike. They shared the same dark hair, cool-grey eyes and lean stature. They could have been twins.

“I loved your mother,” wept Madarame, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wish I did something differently that day. I could have saved her.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” reassured Yusuke. “You couldn’t have stopped it.”

Madarame rolled over to his side, racked with sobs, and Yusuke comforted him until he fell asleep. He wasn’t slightly surprised when he only got to bed himself at four in the morning.

He was even less surprised when he fell asleep in class the next morning. His teacher hit him over the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper and Yusuke jumped so hard he almost fell out his chair.

“No sleeping in class,” he snapped. “Why on earth are you sleeping anyway? Did you stay up late watching television or something?”

Yusuke nodded.

He didn’t know what he would say. How would he explain that his father is falling apart at the seams? That he seems to be drunk more often than he is sober? It makes him feel lonely and isolated. There is no way that his teacher could understand.

No one could possibly understand.

Age 16

Yusuke was staying at Ren’s house for the night. It felt strange to sleep in the same room as another person; he hadn’t shared a room with someone since his mother died.

He couldn’t sleep, anxiety swirling in his chest. What if something had happened to Madarame? What if he had a mental shutdown? Even after everything Madarame had done to him, Yusuke didn’t want him to die. He tried to reassure himself that Madarame had been okay when he had made his confession.

Still, they didn’t know much about the mental shutdowns. Could they be delayed? He wanted to poke Morgana awake and ask him, but decided not to. He didn’t want to be a nuisance. Morgana flicked his tail in his sleep and Yusuke hoped he was having a nice dream.

It was too quiet in the attic. The only sound was the rain beating down on the roof and Ren snoring on the couch. Ren had insisted that he take the bed, which only made Yusuke feel more guilty. Ren had done so much for him and Yusuke didn’t want sink further in his debt.

You’re so selfish Yusuke. You always use people.

He wanted to wake Ren up. He wanted to feel less alone. He wanted to let out this worry before it ate him alive. Ren had said that Yusuke could wake him if he needed him.

But you don’t need him, not really. You want him, but you don’t need him.

He decided to let him sleep. Yusuke stared at Ren, pondering. Why had he helped Yusuke in the first place? He had been so rude to him and his friends when they’d first met. Still, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to hold a grudge. He had probably forgiven Yusuke already.

Hopefully.

Yusuke laid back in bed, trying to force himself to sleep. He jumped a little when his phone vibrated on the windowsill. Someone was calling him. No one ever called him.

He was about to decline the call, when he recognised the number. Trying to keep his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Ren up, he spoke.

“Natsuhiko?”

“Yusuke, there’s something I need to tell you,” said Natsuhiko. He paused, as if trying to figure out what to say next. “There’s no easy way to say this but Madarame is dead.”

“What?” exclaimed Yusuke. Ren stirred on the couch. Yusuke lowered his voice. “How did you—"

“I have a friend who works at the Police Hospital,” explained Natsuhiko. “He told me.”

“That can’t be true…” Madarame couldn’t be dead. Yusuke couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it.

Natsuhiko sighed, his voice more sympathetic that Yusuke expected. “He was an old man Yusuke. Being arrested put too much stress on his heart and he couldn’t handle it.”

“Sensei always had a weak heart...” mumbled Yusuke as a wave of guilt crashed over him. He had done this. He had killed his father. And for what? A mere slight or two? Was that worth snuffing out a human life?

Natsuhiko sighed and for a split-second Yusuke thought Natsuhiko knew what he had done. His logical side reminded him that was ridiculous.

“Look, I wanted to be the one to tell you this rather than some stranger,” said Natsuhiko. “Madarame wasn’t a good man but he was still your father. It’s okay to mourn him.”

There was a pause. “I have to go,” said Natsuhiko. “Are you going to be okay?” The question was as loaded as Yusuke's silence.

“I’ll be fine,” murmured Yusuke. Natsuhiko hung up, leaving Yusuke with his horrified thoughts.

He faintly realised that he was crying. Why couldn’t he stop? He was such an idiot. He was going to wake Ren up. But Yusuke couldn’t stop the tears from coming. He was a murderer. No one could know about this.

He could leave. The idea hung around his head for a minute. There was nothing trapping him here. He could just pick up his bags and leave. Escape the scorn of the only real friends he ever had.

But where would he go? He couldn’t go back to the dorms. Everyone there knew him about Madarame and he wouldn’t be able to take their pitying stares. He would stay at a motel, but he had no money. How would be pay for it?

He really had nowhere to go. Yusuke had never felt so guilty and lonely and helpless as he did in that moment. Pulling his knees to his chest, he wiped tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and did his best to quell his weeping.

You’re not seven years old anymore Yusuke. Stop crying.

He was so inside his own head that he didn’t notice that Ren had woken up until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Yusuke looked up at him through bleary eyes, his brain barely recognising his friend.

“Yusuke… Are you—"

Yusuke pushed him away and scrambled to his feet. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped.

“Yusuke, what’s wrong?” said Ren. “I just want to help you.”

“I killed Madarame! Natsuhiko just told me he had a heart attack. He’s dead and it’s all my fault.” He fell to his knees, chest heaving.

“I’m a murderer,” he sobbed. “I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted him to die.”

“You are not a killer,” said Ren, crouching down to Yusuke’s level. “I’ve only known you a week, but I know that much. You didn’t kill him.”

“But I stole his heart, knowing this could happen. He was old and weak. I should have known better.”

Yusuke was startled when Ren wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “You couldn’t possibly have predicted this Yusuke. Besides, stealing a heart doesn’t cause heart attacks. We know that much. You didn’t kill him.”

Suddenly, Yusuke was three years old again, wrapped up in his mother’s arms. He hasn’t felt safe in so long, but in that moment he found comfort again.

Ren didn’t judge him. Ren wasn’t mean or snippy, even when Yusuke got tears and snot all over his t-shirt. Ren hand rested lightly on Yusuke’s shoulder, holding him to reality when Yusuke was sure he might evaporate and float away. He is an anchor. A lighthouse in a stormy ocean. A beacon of comfort in the mess of Yusuke’s life.

Yusuke’s voice was ragged by the time he finally brought himself to speak.

“I hated him,” he muttered. “Despised him even. But there were good days. Days where I loved him. Sometimes we would sit in the den together for hours, just painting. Painting and painting and painting. He used to praise me too. “You’re such a talented painter,” he would say. “You’re such a good kid. I love you so much.”

“You never knew what to expect from him. Sweet words could be replaced with cutting insults in an instant. But I wanted that praise so badly that I would hunt for it. I would do anything he asked, just so I could hear that praise. Turn over all my art, go without food, take his insults and abuse, all for the promise of a little kindness at the end of it all. I only ever wanted to be loved. I only ever wanted him to love me.”

Yusuke buried his face into Ren’s shoulder, not wanting to see Ren’s to see his pathetic expression. “Why do I still love him? Why do I still love the man who ruined my childhood? The man who killed my mother? The man who treated me like dirt? Why can’t I just admit that he hurt me?”

“Will I always be his property?” he asked. “A portrait in his museum of stolen work. His son in name but not in practice. His prodigy. His worker. Will I ever be free from him?”

Ren held Yusuke even tighter. “You are a creator,” he said. “And you are an artist. You are so much more than your past. So much more than what he said you were. And most all, you are my friend. I care about you Yusuke.”

For the first time in his life, Yusuke knew he was hearing the truth.

#persona 5 fanfiction #persona 5 #persona 5 angst #angst #autistic yusuke #akira kusuru #yusuke kitagawa #natsuhiko nakanohara #death tw #child abuse tw #alcohol tw #suicide tw #disordered eating tw #i'm not sorry #inkwell writes

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anarchy-n-glitter · 3 years

Text

Nothing to Fear

Summary:

Lake County, Colorado

2011

JJ's been located in the asylum. Dr. Crane steps deeper into the monster's den.

(Warnings: Gore, implied torture, referenced self harm)

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CHAPTER 6

She wanted to cry. She saw him, sitting alone in a cell and she was sure he was unaware of their watching eyes. Trager stood next to her, his hand on her hip to keep her close. This whole situation, she had determined, was a way to show his power over her. She wouldn’t let him do this to her, though, nor would she allow him to do this to the people she loved. By the end of tomorrow night, he’ll be the one sitting in that cell.

J.J. was staring at the wall blankly, facing them, and she could see the horrible, bloody wounds around his mouth. She was reminded of what Trager said to her when they made that deal, how J.J. was admitted due to a “meltdown,” and she assumed he ended up hurting himself. She glanced at Trager from the corner of her eye. She didn’t trust him one bit, and for some strange reason she had no doubt that he had something to do with this. She had never seen J.J. so lifeless, even when he was in Arkham he was lively and trying his best. Here he looked like he was comatose. His vivid green eyes that were usually bright and full of life were dull and stared blankly at the wall, and she knew someone had hurt him.

“I want him transferred to Arkham back in Gotham.” She stated, loud enough and forcefully enough for Trager to understand that she was going to get what she wanted, whether he did it or she did.

“His doctor’s there and she can help. We can’t treat him here and you know it.” She continued. His grip on her tightened and he seemed to bring her closer to him. He was silent, thinking probably. She could see his face in the reflection and he seemed less than pleased. She knew he could see her too, but that didn’t stop her. Suddenly, a smirk broke out on his face.

“Come to my place after dinner tomorrow and you got yourself a deal.” He offered, and Dr. Crane felt her heart speed up. She knew she was in dangerous territory, and now she had to negotiate her way out of it. After Michelle’s story, there was no way she’d go back to his house.

“Make it my apartment.” She stated, and she watched his eyes widen. He arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her boldness.

“Oh? What’s wrong with my place?” He asked, though she was sure he’d be fine with going to her apartment instead. Either way, he thought he was getting laid, it didn’t matter the setting.

“It’s up to you, really. I’d just rather we go to my apartment.” She explained. She made sure she kept her face blank, or even made it seem like she was mildly interested in the conversation.

“Alright, fine. Your place it is.” He finally agreed. Mentally, she felt herself decompress. If he continued to be so stubborn she had no choice but to reveal what she knew, yet, she didn’t want to do that. The information revealed to her was integral and she knew she couldn’t show all of her cards at once. If she was going to show that she was truly in control, then she would have to wait. She would have to wait until he was at her mercy, begging to be released from whatever bind he was in. Hell, maybe she’d make him fall in love with her - if that was even possible - and then she’d reveal the truth. The whole truth. That she could never love a man like him, and (hopefully) he’d be locked away for what he did.

“I’ll tell Blaire about the transfer request, I’ll say it came from that new girl… your assistant, what was her name again? It’s something that starts with a D, right?” Trager asked, though she felt like he was stalling. Other than how that was obviously a bad idea, she disagreed because she feared him targeting Dr. Dawes after her. She wouldn’t be shocked, after all, she was younger than her, and shorter, and she had blonde hair and bright green eyes. She was stunning, and the creep that currently held Cat like a lover would have to have noticed her. There was no doubt he would go after her. Not only that, but she was young and impressionable, she was new too, which would give him even more power over her than he ever held with Michelle and Cat.

“Dr. Dawes? No, she’s too close to me. They’d suspect I put in the request the moment they confront her. Just skip the middleman and say I did it, after all, I knew his doctor, I know who can treat him.” She stated calmly, and she could have sworn she saw him thinking, saw him putting the pieces together, and it made her sick.

“Alright, whatever you say Cat.” She remained calm, her face stoic.

He pushed a few molars around in the palm of his hand, completely fascinated by how the light reflected off of the bright, white teeth. He had cleaned them off to the best of his abilities, though he was sure his buyers wouldn’t mind. They were more than capable of removing any evidence that someone could trace back to him and Mount Massive, though maybe that’s what they’d want. In order for that to happen though, they had to be caught, and they wouldn’t want that.

He was getting a pretty penny for ol’ Jack Jr.’s teeth, and the less Cat Crane knew about that, the better. As it turned out, J.J. showing up that day was a godsend. He had a history of mental illness, though his files said nothing about self harm he knew from his experience working in the asylum that a mental breakdown could trigger an extreme reaction like that. J.J. was the perfect person to do that to, and he served a few other purposes. He needed teeth for his buyers, and he needed Cat’s attention, something he could hold over her for a little bit until she was desperate. He succeeded in that.

For some strange reason, he felt like she was someone who could understand him. He thought this the moment he laid eyes on her, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. He enjoyed the little game they played, where she acted like she despised him when he knew that deep down, she was as fascinated by him as he was with her. Yes, he did hope things would go his way tomorrow night, and he would absolutely love to just do his thing and leave her behind, but he was coming to the realization that he just couldn’t. If he were to have her, there would be no going back, he wouldn’t be able to get rid of her if he tried, even if she wanted nothing to do with him in the end.

They were people of science, after all, and while he was a doctor in everything but name, he felt she could complete him in that sense. Under all that cold, bitter attitude, he knew she was just as unhinged and violent as he was. He was the antithesis of everything she was, and that’s what he liked about her. She wasn’t like him, but he could tell that at their very cores, they were the same. He wanted to show her that.

Deep down, he wanted to believe she’d be lost without him.

Blaire strolled into his office, making Trager curl his hand into a fist, hiding the teeth from his friend. While he was sure he knew about his little “business,” Trager didn’t want to risk anything. To be honest, he wasn’t in much of a talking mood at the moment. He wanted to clear his mind and get ready to bring the teeth to his customers, and he wanted to think about his next move. That was the thing with Cat Crane, when he thought he was ahead, she was only a step ahead of him. It didn’t take much to change that little pattern, but he hadn’t gotten as far as he wanted to. She was still able to take control of her situation - and he knew it was a situation she wasn’t fond of - and turn the tables on him. Now he was stuck having to improvise.

On one hand, he’d now know where she lived, but on the other… there was no way in hell Cat was gonna let him anywhere near her willingly.

“You’re coming tomorrow, right?” Blaire asked after what felt like forever. In reality, it had only been a moment. Trager was stuck in his own head that day, but it was something that couldn’t be helped.

“Yeah, totally, bud. Don’t worry. You won’t believe who I got to go out with me.” He told him, leaning forward with a wide smile on his face. Blaire scoffed.

“Ugh, don’t tell me it’s that weird broad you’ve been bothering for the past few weeks.” Blaire rolled his eyes at the thought of it. There was no doubt Trager blackmailed the new doctor into going, and he was sure the fallout of his terrible decisions would end up hurting the company. He warned him when they first hired Dr. Crane, but he knew Trager wouldn’t listen.

“Oh yeah, it’s her alright. That guy I had you admit was the bait.” Blaire glared at his friend.

“Ricky,” he began sternly, moving closer to the nonchalant man’s desk. “Don’t tell me that’s why you had me do that.” When Trager didn’t answer, Blaire knew he was right.

“Oh god this is gonna be terrible for the company.” Blaire muttered, running his fingers through his thin, greasy hair.

“Come on, Jer. I made sure he didn’t know it was me. If he does know, he won’t figure it out for a while. Cat wants him transferred back to Arkham, but if you really don’t trust it we can just send someone with him.” He practically watched the small man’s face grow red.

“Oh? And who the hell would that be.” Trager stopped to think about this, before the image of the small, blonde doctor came to mind.

“Dr. Dawes.”

“She’s new, but she’s been around Dr. Crane’s experiments. Too risky.” Trager shook his head.

“If you think Arkham isn’t crawling with corruption too, buddy, then you have another thing coming.” Trager answered, his tone bordering on threatening.

“I assume you’ve done your research?” Blaire asked, and Trager nodded. With a sigh, Blaire finally agreed, leaving Trager’s office shortly after, leaving the man alone with his thoughts and teeth again.

#outlast x reader #outlast fanfic #richard trager x catarina crane #richard trager x oc #richard trager x reader #richard trager #dr catarina crane #outlast oc #nothing to fear #enemies to lovers

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onceuponaloonatic · 3 years

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i meant for this to be a little more so i’m sorry but this is the best i can do with my courseload rn it’s a namo drabble in the new misahyo au i hope you enjoy !! 🥺🥺

tw: ptsd, learning disabilities, panic attacks, etc...

Nayeon really wouldn’t say they planned to have Kazumi when they did. It may sound strange, since they obviously had worked very hard to have Kazumi, as they had to go through all the work of finding a doctor and doing the procedure over and over again. But despite all the work that went into having her, Kazumi Hirai-Im was not planned.

A part of her regretted adopting the twins right before they had Kazumi. It wasn’t that she regretted having any of them, and she wouldn’t trade a single one of them for the world, the timing was just not ideal.

They found the twins through a co-worker of Momo’s. Momo’s coworker’s husband was a social worker, and she was complaining about the twins when he first brought them to her home. She said she was used to him bringing random children home occasionally, but that these two were especially problematic. She talked about how she couldn’t sleep because the girl kept having nightmares and that the boy would always steal food when he thought she wasn’t looking. And apparently, the two were not getting along with her co-worker’s children. Taking the twins in as a favor for Momo’s co-worker was supposed to be a short term thing. It was just a crazy idea Momo had had after a long day at work. She had seen how stressed her coworker was, and ever the people pleaser she had just offered without thinking much. She didn’t even ask Nayeon until after she offered. (In Momo’s defense, Nayeon was teaching a class at the time so it’s not like she could have answered that second, but Nayeon still held it against her.) Nayeon didn’t take much convincing though, once she laid eyes on the twins, she fell in love. Nayeon loved kids, and seeing those two young children completely melted all of her inhibitions.

They had some issues with the twins at first. Haneul did in fact have pretty violent nightmares, plus getting her to open up was nearly impossible. Jae opened up easier, but he did have some quirks. He stole food and hid it under his bed frequently. One day, Momo found it under his bed when she was trying to clean, and when she tried to address it with him he had a meltdown. Haneul had run over when she heard her brother crying, and tried to be protective over him, physically putting herself between Momo and her brother, glaring at Momo the best she could at her young age . Momo had reassured them both it was okay and she wasn’t mad, and that if they needed more food, they would gladly give it to them. It just needed to be kept in a better place, in case there were ants. That explanation seemed to calm them both down, but it was a testament to how they both still didn’t trust them.

A few days of taking care of the twins quickly turned to a few weeks, and that was when Momo and Nayeon knew they wanted to keep them forever. Sure they were difficult, but they were also sweet. They had been hurt, and they needed patience and care that the foster system couldn’t provide for them. It wasn’t much later Nayeon found out she was pregnant with Kazumi.

It was right about when they had talked to the twins about the idea of them staying with them forever. They were both so young, forever was a difficult concept to grasp. But they had agreed that they were nice. Jae said they had good food and Haneul said she “liked their puppy.” They were in the process of officially adopting the two of them and not just fostering them when they found out. Nayeon had only gotten the procedure once after the twins came into their lives. She had only done it since they had already paid for the session, and she was convinced it wasn’t going to work. But it had. And now they were in a difficult situation.

Of course they were happy they were having a baby, but it would make things complicated with the twins. They both knew it would, they knew the twins would feel like they were being replaced and that they didn’t want them, which was so untrue. Nayeon and Momo both wanted both the twins and the new baby so so much.

When they eventually did tell them, they reacted how they expected. They had tried to phrase it to them like a proposition for them to be a big brother and big sister, and tried to reassure them they still wanted them, but it didn’t work. It ended with a poorly planned attempt to run away by Haneul that ended with her falling down the last two by their front door and breaking her arm. Jae, despite being on board with the run away plan, was so freaked out by Haneul’s crying he instantly ran to them crying. Of course they were mad, but they were more worried about the twins. They took Haneul to the emergency room and Momo stayed with her, holding her tight in her arms as she got a cast for the first time while Nayeon held Jae, who still hadn’t calmed down either.

After Haneul had a purple cast put on her wrist and they had all gotten some sleep, they talked about it with them. They told them they were worried and that they didn’t want them doing that again. They also talked to them again about how even if they were going to have a baby, they still wanted both of them. It was the first night they told the twins they loved them.

After that they were still a little skittish about baby things, but they seemed to open up to them a lot more. Especially Haneul. She seemed a lot more comfortable with them after that incident. Her nightmares even started to slow down a bit.

When the two met Kazumi for the first time, they both kind of fell in love with her. They both giggled about how small she was and how silly she looked. They loved calling her Zumi and helping out with them as much as they could. They were just about as helpful as young children could be, but Nayeon and Momo both thought it was so cute. It was a nice change, and they could see they were both kind of coming around and accepting Kazumi as their little sister.

That time right after Kazumi was born was hard. Between waking up for Kazumi and for the twins' nightmares, they barely got any sleep. And trying to keep up with the twins' newfound energy now that they were more comfortable with them and Kazumi was hard. But they managed, even if sometimes it seemed like they wouldn’t. They even enjoyed it. They loved their family so much. Even if Kazumi’s timing wasn’t great they were happy to have her, and it seemed the twins felt the same.

Things never really got easier. They just, changed as the kids got older. Hanuel’s nightmares got better, but she started showing clearer signs of PTSD and anxiety. Jae was having trouble keeping up in school and was struggling with some of the same PTSD as Haneul. Kazumi had issues with seperation anxiety. It started when she was a baby, but it got worse when she started school. It wasn’t just towards Nayeon and Momo either. She directed it towards both her brother and her sister as well. The first night Jae had a sleepover, Kazumi had insisted on saying up until he got back. Of course, she ended up falling asleep in Momo and Nayeon’s bed, but she had pushed herself to stay up later than usual. Haneul didn’t like being separated from their family too much either, so they guessed it had rubbed off on Kazumi too. Haneul specifically hated being separated from Jae. They had been together forever, she absolutely hated being separated from him. That first night he had a sleepover and after Kazumi fell asleep, Haneul had a meltdown in their kitchen. It took almost an hour of gently holding her and telling her Jae was fine for her to calm down. Once she was calm, she fell asleep, but getting her there had been difficult. Jae always seemed the most okay with separation. He was a little more trusting than Haneul, and he wasn’t as attached to people as Kazumi. He still had issues, specifically in school and with anger, but he was better than his sisters in the making friends department.

Once all the kids were in elementary school, Momo went back to work full time and things did feel a little smoother. Not easier, just smoother. They both had a pretty good idea of what they were doing and even if there were times they felt overwhelmed, it felt easier to deal with. Over time, things just got more and more polished to the point they were like a well oiled machine. Of course there were times things hit a snag.

The first major snag they hit was learning to manage Jae’s dyslexia. He had been diagnosed in first grade, but at first his teachers had said he had a mild case and would be fine with little intervention. But by third grade he started hating school, refusing to go no matter what Nayeon and Momo promised. After some probing they found out he was just struggling a lot in school at the time, and they took him to a specialist that helped lay out a learning plan that could work with him. They had always known Jae was really smart, but once he started getting the care he needed his life improved a lot. He was angry less often and he started to like school more and more.

The next came with Haneul. While she had never struggled in school, making friends was never something she was good at. She was shy, and didn’t really seem to get along with her classmates very well when they tried to force her to open up. She got along with her brother and sister, and she got along with Emi, Jeongho, and Hansol pretty well, but she really struggled getting along with anyone else. They thought she would be fine with that, but when Jae started to make his own friends and have his own life things changed. She seemed more withdrawn and she even started taking it out on Momo and Nayeon. It felt like all the progress they had made towards their relationship was cast aside as Hanuel lashed out at them for weeks. It took a couple group therapy sessions with both of them and Haneul for them to figure it out, but once they did everything became really clear. Haneul ended up having to work with another therapist for a while, one who specialized in social skills, but it ended up working out for her. She was only able to make a few friends, but it did wonders to improve her mood and overall happiness.

Kazumi was always the easy kid. Sure, she was the youngest and so she was more needy at times than her older siblings but overall she didn’t really require as much from her parents as her siblings. She always got okay grades and her social skills were arguably the best in the family. The only issue they ran into with Kazumi was her separation issues, but other than that she really was an easy kid. She even helped her parents out with her siblings, becoming pretty in tune with both of them emotionally from a young age and understanding them even better than their parents sometimes. As they got older, the kids mellowed out. By the age of fourteen, Jae didn’t even go to therapy anymore. Of course, they still recommended they keep an eye on him, but he was in a good place emotionally and was happy in his life. Haneul wasn’t quite ready for that yet, so much to her own chagrin she stayed in it.

“I don’t understand why Jae’s allowed to stop and I’m not.” Haneul was the only one in the car with Momo. She was usually the one to take Haneul to her therapy appointments as Nayeon usually had a class around that time, so she had gotten used to it over the years. When she was little Momo had a little tradition of taking her to get ice cream after each appointment. “We’ve talked about this kiddo, it’s just until both your therapist and you feel comfortable stopping.” Momo informed, turning the car on. She had gotten used to waiting for appointments like this. Nayeon usually had work, so she was the one who usually took care of little appointments like this.

“I feel comfortable.” Haneul pouted. “Your therapist doesn’t think it’s a great idea sweetie.” Momo sighed. “I know you are frustrated, but really, it’s okay. Being in therapy is okay. You are doing well, and we are so proud of you.” “Fine.” Haneul pouted.

“Ha-chan I can tell you are frustrated but this is what’s best for you.” Momo sighed. “Cheer up. You can get toppings on your ice cream if you want?” “Can I get M&Ms?” Haneul asked. “Yeah, whatever you want. Just don’t tell your brother and sister.” Momo rubbed one of Haneul’s arms. “Fine.” Haneul sighed again uncurling herself from the ball she had curled up in. Momo couldn’t help but smile. Haneul had grown up so fast. She remembers when she first came to stay with them. She was so tiny back then, so frail and so fragile. She used to cry when anyone would raise their voice at her. She used to get upset by loud noises. When things fell or when the tv made a loud noise, she would always freak out. She was so much better now. And she had put in so much work for them to get this far, and Momo was just so incredibly proud of her for getting this far.

“Hey mama?” “Hm?” Momo hummed as she began driving. “Why-why did you and Mom decide to take Jae and I in?” Haneul asked, her eyes nervously darting around. “I mean- you never really told us why. And Zumi and I were talking about this the other day and I realized I couldn’t really answer the question. I know you guys were still going through the whole science procedure thing, that's why Zumi was born, but why did you decide to take us in while you are doing that?” Haneul asked. “Well… I guess you are old enough to talk about it.” Momo nodded. “Well… you know my coworker Miss Kim? Her husband is your social worker.” “Yeah- I guess I remember her.” Haneul shrugged. “Yeah, anyway she was the first to take you two in. But it wasn’t really working out. You weren’t getting along with her kids, so she asked me to take you two in for a few days. I didn’t even ask your mom before I said yes. I knew she was struggling and I just- you guys just needed a place to stay. When I told your mom she was a bit mad, but she agreed. Once we had you two, it just-it felt right. We loved having you two- we loved you two.” Momo explained. “Kazumi did have interesting timing, but it worked itself out in the end. We love all three of you and really wanted to have all of you.”

“So you just- you just decided you wanted to keep us?” “It less of we decided it- we just, it felt right. We couldn’t imagine letting the two of you go, even when we found out about Zumi.” Momo explained. “Well… Thank you.” “Of course kiddo.” Momo giggled. “We love you so much Ha-chan, you and your siblings.” “Yeah yeah.” Haneul giggled. “I know and...” “And?” “And I love you too.” Momo smiled at Haneul. She really meant it. She loved them more than anything in the entire world.

#twice #namo #im nayeon #hirai momo #kazumi #haneul #jae

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maybeimamuppet · 3 years

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hi, me again. i just wanted to preface this by saying this work features cady having a meltdown as a result of sensory overload (i headcanon her as autistic) so if that could be triggering for you please skip this. i based this off a personal experience so if you are a person who experiences sensory overload and things are different for you, kindly Do Not Come For Me. also, cadnis has only been dating for about a month and a half in this one so they’re still deep in it. anyway, enjoy!

——-

“Ooh, Jayjay, what’s that one?” Cady asks, dragging Janis and Damian by the hand towards yet another painting. Janis is honestly convinced Cady is having more fun here than she is; hauling her and Damian around and asking a thousand questions every second, but she happily answers what she can.

“Caddy, darling, you know I love you, but my delicate hands cannot take this kind of manhandling,” Damian whines dramatically, pulling gently out of her grip. “I saw a place that looked like it had food back that way, do either of you want anything?” He asks, already backing towards it.

“I’m good. Cads?” Janis responds. Cady doesn’t, still lost in the artwork around her. “Cads. Caddy. Cady. Baby.” The last name finally gets Cady’s attention as she suddenly snaps back into the real world.

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m good. Thanks Damian,” Cady says, seemingly still in a daze. That’s strange for her, she’s usually much more alert. Janis looks at her oddly but decides not to mention it.

She rolls her eyes as Damian shoots both of them finger guns and continues dancing away, putting her arms around Cady’s waist and peppering kisses up the column of her neck, ending with one on her cheek.

“Are you having fun, Peanut?”

“Uhhuh,” Cady nods, leaning back into her embrace. “I love listening to you talk about this kind of stuff. Your eyes just light up every time you know something I’ve asked about. It’s adorable.” Janis flushes scarlet, tucking her face deeper into Cady’s shoulder.

They stand there a while longer before Cady grabs Janis’ hand again, much gentler this time, and leads them to where Damian is standing dejectedly.

“What’s up, Dame?”

“No food. But I took about twelve maps and some free souvenir magnets instead,” He says, brandishing the maps and fanning himself with them.

“Christ, dude, how did you even- never mind.” Janis mutters, shaking her head at his antics. “Anyway, are you guys ready to go?”

“Ugh, yes, please. This was fun but I’ve had too much Da Vinci and not enough Dicaprio for one day, thank you very much. Also I demand to be fed so we will be stopping by that McDonalds on the way.”

“I’m ready to go too, I left my allergy pills at home and I can already feel the pollen,” Cady says, ending with a violent sneeze that prompts a giggle from Janis. “I brought four different medicines with me in case someone got hurt but left the ones I was most likely to need at home.” It’s nearly April now, so her allergies are in full force and will be for several weeks, much to her dismay.

——-

Cady feels off. She’s much more on edge than she was a few minutes ago, and hyper-aware of everything going on around her. She takes deep breaths and tries to process everything as best she can, realizing she’s over-sensitized from her time at the museum. She’s never been great at realizing when input gets to be too much for her until it’s too late. Luckily, she’ll be home soon. All they have to do is follow Damian through the drive through and then she can go home and spend some time in her quiet room with her weighted blanket.

She’s not expecting Janis to pull into a parking space in the lot at McDonalds, and looks around confusedly before realizing this McDonalds doesn’t have a drive through. This was not in the plan. She doesn’t realize she’s basically locked in her seat until Janis pokes her head in through the window.

“Cads, you coming?” She asks, holding out her hand for Cady to take.

“Can I just stay out here and wait for you?”

“But the line goes on for, like, ages. I don’t wanna be away from you for that long,” Janis whines with a pout. Damn those expressive brown eyes; Cady can never resist her no matter how hard she tries. Shakily, she undoes her seatbelt and steps out, taking Janis’ outstretched hand and trying to hide the tension in her shoulders.

Surprisingly, she makes it about five minutes in the restaurant before it all gets to be too much and she finally breaks. She can feel it building inside her, the buzzing pressure in her chest threatening to burst through her ribs. She’s still trying to process all the input from the museum, now with the added stimuli of the brightly colored booths and menu and the smells of grease and salt and the muffled conversations of everyone around her and the way her hair is down and tickling her face and how her shoes are new and still a little too tight and the pressure in her nose from her allergies and Janis’ tight but gentle grip on her hand and- it’s too much.

She wrenches out of Janis’ grasp to slam both hands over her ears, pressing as hard as she can, but it’s still not enough to block out the noise. She can feel the tears streaming rapidly down her face, which also isn’t helping. Janis turns to look at her, understandably confused. Cady loves holding her hand, loves when Janis touches her, she’s never pulled away before.

“Babe, what- oh shit. Angel, what’s wrong?” Janis asks, eyes full of concern as she reaches out to Cady. She only grows more worried when she lunges away and starts shivering violently, still clutching desperately at her ears. “Okay, no touching. Let me go tell Damian real quick and I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be okay, my butterfly.” Janis rambles, running to Damian a few places ahead in line. Cady watches her tap his shoulder and gesture to her, sees his shocked and worried face when he takes in her current state. Janis hands him her debit card and then comes jogging back to her side.

“Alright Caddy, come on, let’s get you home.” Janis says, holding the door for her. Cady sprints across the parking lot, practically jumping into her seat and slamming the door after her. She’s in such a state she barely remembers to buckle herself in before putting her hands back over her ears and shutting her eyes tightly. She feels Janis slide into her seat and start the car, feels the car back out of the lot and onto the road. She’s nearly home. Home is safe, she’ll be okay there.

——

Janis is terrified. She’s seen Cady sick, seen her cry, seen her scared near out of her mind whenever they watch Janis’ favorite horror movies. She has never seen Cady like this. She has no idea how to help her, no idea how to even approach this.

She did a fair bit of research on autism when Cady had first told her and Damian about hers after they had all reconciled at Spring Fling last year, but everything she can use in this situation varies by person and situation. She thinks it’s a sensory overload, Cady certainly seems to be having an issue with noise if the hands over the ears is anything to go by. She tries to whisper “It’s okay, angel, we’re nearly home,” in what she hopes is a comforting tone, but Cady only sobs harder and clutches at her ears with so much force Janis is worried they might bruise. Wrong choice.

She finally pulls into the Heron’s driveway, not even having time to shut the car off before Cady is ripping her seatbelt off and flying into the house at full speed. Secretly, she’s glad Cady’s parents are out of town for the weekend, not wanting them to think she’s done something to hurt their daughter this severely, especially this early in their relationship. What the fuck, she thinks to herself as she closes the car doors. How did I fuck up this bad?

She follows Cady inside, closing and locking the front door behind her. Damian has the key Cady gave him, he can let himself in whenever he gets here. She decides to check Cady’s room first, it’s the most logical place for her to be.

Sure enough, there’s a little Cady-shaped lump under the weighted blanket on her bed, still shaking, and she can still hear muffled sobs coming from it. Janis sits at the foot of the bed, not knowing what to do other than wait this out and see what happens. Holding as still as she can so she doesn’t jostle her girlfriend too much, she pulls out her phone to shoot Damian a text, letting him know where they are. He answers once he pulls into the driveway that he’ll be waiting downstairs with their food, and to take all the time they need until Cady is better.

She relaxes a bit knowing Damian is there, but still wrings her hands in front of her, scared for her Peanut. She about jumps out of her skin when a small hand suddenly rockets out from under the blanket and starts frantically patting around on the bedspread, seemingly searching for something. Unsure of what to do, she grabs it and squeezes gently, wincing a little when Cady grabs back with a vice grip. The shaking seems to lessen once she does, though, so Janis decides she doesn’t mind the loud popping of her knuckles.

After what feels like several hours but couldn’t have been more than 45 minutes, Cady’s tear-streaked face peeks out from under the blanket and her hand starts making shapes in Janis’ grasp. Cady is fluent in sign language and started teaching Janis a while ago. They started with the alphabet so they could spell things out for each other if one of them ever went nonverbal (and sometimes just for fun). Janis lets go and watches as Cady spells out “hold me?”

As if Janis would ever deny her. She nods and holds out her arms, letting out a soft “oof” as Cady jumps into her, throwing her arms around her neck and legs around her waist, continuing to let out little sobs and whimpers into her shoulder. She tries gently rubbing circles on Cady’s back, but she gives an uncomfortable shudder so she stops almost immediately and settles for just holding her to her chest gently, worried about hurting her.

Cady chokes out a soft “tighter, please,” into her ear, so Janis squeezes, increasing the pressure until Cady gives a relieved sigh. She rocks them side to side gently, which seems to soothe her further. Finally did something right, she thinks.

After a very long, very tense period of rocking and Cady desperately trying to match her breathing, her sobs gradually slow before finally ending with a snuffle. Janis stops rocking but doesn’t move otherwise, content to just hold Cady close for a while.

“I’m sorry,” Cady mutters after several minutes, crying lightly again.

“Oh, baby, no. Don’t be sorry, why would you be sorry?” Janis squeezes her before inching her back so she can see her face, wiping tears from under her eyes.

“You-you just wanted to have more fun and get food with D-damian but instead you had to-to bring me home and then you stayed to take c-care of me-“ Cady sobs out before Janis cuts her off with a soft kiss.

“Princess, it’s McDonalds. I can get garbage fast food with Damian anytime. He brought some back for us anyway, he’s downstairs. I care more about making sure you’re okay and healthy and happy. I want to keep the one Caddy I’ve got safe much more than I want to sit in a loud, garish restaurant and eat shit that’ll clog my arteries anyway. Understand?” Janis says, cupping her chin to look into Cady’s clear blue eyes until she gives a sheepish nod.

“You have questions,” Cady says bluntly after another few minutes, now calmed down again.

“Um, a few, yeah,” Janis responds anxiously, looking briefly at her lap. Cady’s been through the wringer today, she doesn’t need Janis accosting her.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you okay?” Janis bursts out desperately. Cady gives a chuckle and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“I am now, yeah. You helped a lot, actually. This time was a lot shorter than normal.” Jesus. They’d been in Cady’s room for at least an hour, and that doesn’t even include the time in the restaurant or the ride home.

“What happened? What do I need to do if it happens again?” Janis is still near frantic with worry. She hates feeling helpless, and she had no idea what to do for Cady while it was happening.

“That was a sensory overload turned meltdown. I didn’t realize it was so bad until we were in the car, there was a lot happening at the museum but I was focusing on you and the art and Damian. I get overloaded a lot, but I haven’t had a meltdown because of it since I was still a Plastic.” Nearly a year, and she had one because of Janis. God, she feels like such an idiot. Cady seems to notice the guilt in her eyes, because she cups her cheeks and says, “Hey, stop beating yourself up over this, mpenzi. I can see you thinking. This was not your fault, okay? You had no way of knowing, and I should’ve told you I was feeling bad. Once it started you did almost everything right.” Janis gives a weak nod, feeling slightly better and finally grinning widely as Cady pecks her nose.

“As for what you can do, that usually depends on the situation, unfortunately. But, as some general rules, don’t touch unless I reach out or ask you to, and try not to talk. If you have to, just speak softly, don’t whisper. I don’t like the way it sounds even when I’m not overloaded, but when I am it’s like nails on a chalkboard.” Janis nods again, taking in the information.

There is one thing Janis really wants to know. “What-um. What does it feel like?” She asks gently.

Cady thinks for a moment. “That’s a good question, I don’t really know how to explain it without sounding totally nuts.”

“Try me,” Janis responds with a chuckle. She knows that feeling at least, some of the metaphors she’s come up with to explain what her panic attacks feel like have bordered on nonsensical.

“Okay, well, um. Physically all I really feel is a kind of buzzing or pounding in my chest and my muscles lock up. Most of it is mental, for me anyway. It’s sort of like- what’s that game we played with Damian and your sister last time we had game night? With the little blocks? Jungle?”

“Jenga.” Janis laughs, kissing her forehead.

“Yeah, that one! Anyway, it’s kind of like that. Every piece of sensory input is like a block gets taken away. In the beginning it’s only a few, so it’s still pretty stable. But after a while it starts to build up and get more wobbly. That’s usually when I notice what’s happening and most of the time I can do things to soothe myself and get back, but every once in a while something happens that just knocks the whole tower over and I fall apart. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, actually. It really does. Good job Peanut.” Janis says, slightly stunned. “What about now? Are you still good for movie night or do you want Damian and I to go home...?”

“No don’t go!” Cady yelps, locking tight around Janis again. “I don’t wanna be alone. But I don’t know if I can handle a movie, could we play Animal Crossing together instead?” She murmurs, burying her head in Janis’ hair, inhaling her comforting scent of apples, vanilla and paint. An odd combination, but Cady absolutely loves it.

“Hey, whoa, easy baby.” Janis soothes, easing her back again. “We won’t go if you want us to stay, I just wanted to check. Animal Crossing sounds great, I’ll send Damian to grab some stuff from our houses while we eat. Speaking of Damian, he has been downstairs this whole time, can we go let him know you’re okay?”

“Oh god, yeah. I’m gonna change, I’ll be down in a minute, you go get him. I totally forgot,” Cady says frantically, scrambling off of Janis and rushing to her dresser. Janis laughs at her sudden haste, walking towards the door until she hears Cady call her back. “Janis?” She turns to look at her with a questioning hum. “Thank you.” She says softly, melting Janis’ heart just a little further.

“Always, baby.” She answers with a cheeky wink, closing the door behind her.

The second she hits the last stair Damian is there, frantically pestering her with worried questions. “What the hell happened to her? Where is she? Is she okay? Is she dead?”

Janis bursts out laughing at the last one. “Damdam, chill, she’s totally fine, she’s just changing. She had a sensory overload, I’m sure she’ll tell you more once she comes down.” She hugs him tightly to calm them both before making her way to the kitchen to heat up their food.

“God, thank fuck. She was shaking so hard I thought she’d explode and we’d get done for manslaughter.” Damian jokes as Janis arranges Cady’s chicken nugget happy meal into a smile on a plate before sticking it in the microwave. That’ll cheer her up a little more.

Sure enough, Cady comes padding down the stairs as Janis makes the apple slices into hair, now wearing a soft t-shirt she definitely stole from Janis along with a pair of leggings and her hedgehog slippers. She’s also wearing her clunky, thick glasses instead of her contacts, and Janis has to bite her lip to prevent her lesbian monkey brain from saying anything totally embarrassing.

She shuffles up to Damian for a hug, and Janis watches her lead him to the couch to explain what happened as she grabs Cady’s allergy pills from the counter and pours a couple out for her.

This conversation is much shorter, and after a few minutes Cady takes a seat at the counter, laughing goofily when she sees what Janis has done with her meal. “Alright, I’ll be back in, like, ten. I’m gonna go grab our sleepover stuff. No canoodling while I’m gone.” Damian says, pointing at Janis accusingly, laughing as she raises her hands in surrender.

——-

They’re just finishing eating as Damian comes bursting back in with his and Janis’ sleepover bags and Nintendo Switches. “Your mom and Juliana say hi and they love you, Jan.” He says; heaving a sigh as he puts his bounty down by the door. She makes a mental note to text them before bed.

Cady puts her dishes in the sink and goes to grab her switch, settling in on the couch with her favorite blanket and making grabby hands at the both of them. She’s much more lethargic than normal, having spent a lot of energy during her meltdown.

Janis and Damian take turns changing into their pjs before grabbing their own consoles and settling in on either side of her. Janis had introduced Cady to Animal Crossing around New Years and she had become absolutely obsessed, begging her parents to buy it for her until they finally caved for her birthday. She’s designing her island to be half Kenya and half Chicago, and Janis is frankly amazed at the progress she’s made. Her birthday was only in February.

——

As they run around playing hide and seek on each other’s islands, Cady is secretly deep in thought. She never thought she’d have people she’d be able to trust the way she does Janis and Damian. She’d hoped, obviously, but quickly lost hold of that after her move from Kenya. Once she’d turned full Plastic, it had gone entirely.

But as she sits here, nestled firmly between her two favorite people and falling asleep on her girlfriends shoulder, she realizes she’s finally found her group, her herd, her flock.

She’s found where she belongs.

———

hope you enjoyed this, do please tell me what you thought! i also wanted to make it clear that janis is the one blaming herself for the meltdown. cady doesn’t blame her and neither do i as the author. also, i’m not totally familiar with tumblr yet so please let me know of any formatting things i can improve. (also my works probably won’t be this long in the future. got carried away :/)

lots of love, ezzy 🦕

#cadnis #paint by numbers #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #mean girls #mean girls musical

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the-wlw-cafe · 4 years

Text

Supercorptober - Day 4: Dog

Read it on ao3 here!

„Sweetie?“

Lena and Alex shared a long look over their respective dishes. It was common knowledge that Kara only called her wife sweetie when she’d done something wrong. Granted, it wasn’t her only tell, the fact that she showed up twenty minutes late to their double date with Alex and Kelly was also a big indicator that there was something going on. Lena had stopped being upset when Kara turned up late for functions pretty early on in their relationship. Supergirl duties didn’t stick to a regular schedule, after all. But something about the way she had her winter coat draped tightly around herself, fists clenching and unclenching in the fabric, her facial expression the same as when she ate the last slice of Pizza that was clearly labelled Alex at game night clued Lena in that her tardiness wasn’t the only thing her wife was about to fess up to.

“Yes, honey?” Lena asked, one eyebrow raised as far as it could go.

“You love me, right?”

“What did you do?” Alex and Lena sighed in unison.

“Okay, it’s scary when you do that. You know me too well!” Kara exclaimed, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. For a split second, Lena thought she could see movement under there – but that would be ridiculous, not even Kara would try to smuggle a living, breathing animal into a restaurant.

“Kara, please, please tell me this isn’t another Robert Cat situation”, Alex said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Lena frowned. “Robert Cat?”, she asked, turning to Kelly as if to ask whether these words made any more sense to her. She was surprised to see Alex’ wife trying to stifle a giggle behind the palm of her hand.

“Am I the only one who has no idea what on earth Alex is talking about?”

“Oh Lena”, Kelly said, her dark eyes twinkling with glee, “you’re in for a treat!”

“Alex, you weren’t supposed to tell anyone!”, Kara whined.

“Kara, I love you to bits, but there’s no way I would ever be able to keep this amazing anecdote to myself”, Alex grinned, taking a large swig from her glass of wine.

“Gather ‘round, children, because I’m about to tell you the tragic tale of unrequited love between Kara and Robert Cat.”

Kara huffed, but took a seat at the table anyway, pouting adorably.

“So I’m sure after two years of marriage, two additional years of dating and an eternity of hopeless pining you know that when Kara first came to earth she had some trouble controlling her powers and adjusting to life on earth. So, because humans are cruel – myself included, I was an asshole back then, sorry again, Kara-“

“Apology accepted!”, Kara interjected. “I mean, for the being mean to me when you were a kid thing, not the telling everyone my deepest, darkest secrets. You’re a traitor and I’ll be mad at you forever.”

“Oh, hush you”, Alex said, pushing some of her fries and chicken wings in Kara’s direction, which did make her pout dissolve just a little bit.

“Anyway, Kara started befriending this stray cat –“

“Streaky, I know.”

“-for fuck’s sake, will you just let me finish?”

Lena acquiesced, murmuring a half-hearted apology.

“Anyway, because animals seemed to like Kara more than most of her peers did, she started hanging out with them more and more, until one day she came running home, calling for mom, because she’d found a scared cat that must be starving, alone and scared, because it had hissed and swatted at her even after she’d offered it some of her salami. So mom, being the responsible adult, tasked Kara in bringing the cat home so we could take it to a vet, see if it’s chipped and if it needs help, you know how it goes. Kara was of course overjoyed and brought her new friend home. So you could imagine our surprise when Kara came home with…”, Alex paused for dramatic tension, clearly revelling in the attention Lena was giving her, “...a fucking bobcat!”

Lena, who’d been taking a sip of her wine, started violently coughing and had to spit it back into the glass in a terribly unladylike way.

“How was I supposed to know?”, Kara shouted from the far end of the table.

“I mean, you could have learned after Eliza told you to put that thing back where you got it from.”

Lena, knowing her wife to well, intoned: “But she didn’t, did she?”

“Of course not”, Alex grinned. “She actually tried to hide it in her room.”

“He couldn’t hurt me! I just wanted to feed him and give him some space until he calmed down, just like what Eliza used to do when I went into meltdown because of sensory overload.”

It never ceased to feel like a wonder to Lena, how after all these years of being together, so many moments of Kara being unapologetically Kara still made her heart swell and flutter with a sudden burst of love. She gave her wife’s thigh a quick, affectionate squeeze and shared a smile with her, the kind so full of open adoration it made Alex roll her eyes.

“The whole thing blew up right in her face when I came to collect her for dinner and this hellbeast jumped me. I actually had to get stitches in my forearm, but it was worth it for witnessing my sister picking the hissing, yowling mangy furball up by the scruff of the neck and tell it off like a naughty fourth grader. She actually -”

“Alex, nooooo”, Kara moaned, burying her head in her hands.

“She actually called it Robert Cat, you know, because I’m Alexandra to mom when I fuck up.”

“It does make perfect sense”, Lena snorted, patting her furiously blushing wife’s thigh.

“Well, it’s clear we are talking about a Robert Cat situation here”, Kelly said, giggling behind her hand.

“How do you know?”, Alex asked, brows furrowed.

“Well, either that or Lena isn’t feeding her wife, because while you were talking Kara’s been busy dropping chicken wings into her cleavage.”

One look confirmed Kelly’s suspicion true: Kara, caught in the act, was holding a chicken wing aloft just over her cleavage. Her very impatient cleavage, because it started yipping and wiggling towards the suspended treat, until a tiny, reddish-brown puppy emerged from her coat.

“To my defense, I’ve already taken her to the vet, she’s healthy and unchipped and I saved her from a ditch where she was stuck and I love her! Also, she’s the cutest.”

“Oh, I miss the days when you used to say these things about me”, Lena quipped, causing Kara to gasp in consternation, clearly about to recount the numerous times she had called Lena cute and beautiful and the bomb dot com this day alone.

“I suppose she is cute”, Alex agreed hesitantly, reaching out to give the little puppy some well deserved head scratches.

“Oh no, Lena, please say you like her too, we can’t let Alex get her fingers on her!” Kara mock-whispered, a wearing a theatrical expression of horror. “She’ll call her Gertrude!”

“Well”, Lena said, tickling the little creature’s chin, “we can’t have that.”

#supercorp #supercorptober #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fic #wlw fic #supergirl #4 for 4 can i get a whoop whoop?#if you like my writing please reblog i put a lot of work into it uwu

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calypsoff · 3 years

Text

Sixty Eight. Part 3

Honestly it’s annoyed me that my brother did and said what he said about me to my mother like, he knows what she is like and how she reacts about being a good wife “don’t take it out on your brother” it’s always the boys “I’m not but you’re making out I am bullying my husband when I’m not, he would say I am if I was” Chris snorted laughing “and Robbie I said jokes can hurt sometimes, he is your husband so he is priority. You’re being very hormonal baby” I huffed out “I give up” they really think I bully Chris “I must admit she can be very violent, it’s that Bajan blood” looking at Chris frowning “you need to stop right there, I mean it. Don’t let this ugly ass man make you think you can join him because you will be sleeping in the spare room” Chris gasped “Robbie, it’s his birthday. Be kind” I think my mother is annoying me the most “just nobody speak to me please, I’m done” I can’t deal to hear anymore bullshit from any of these people, like why are they making out I am mean to my husband unless this is a ploy to annoy me, maybe I am being hormonal but I am not mean to him I just playfully annoy him and I like to do it because it’s so easy to do but my family like to make out I am bullying him “don’t speak” I pointed at Rorrey, I knew he was going to try and say something “I can’t even laugh, you’re miserable” getting up from the seat “I am cleaning” I rather clean then sit with these idiots that think I am being mean when I’m not “I will help you” Mel also got up, picking my plate up and walked around the table “relax baby” Mel said to me as I placed the plate in the sink “I am but Rorrey is actually riling mom up to say that in front of Chris making it seem like I am, I am not incapable of supporting my man and knowing when to not tease him” I said in a whisper “I don’t think they meant it, just relax” I am being very hormonal but I find it annoying, it’s my marriage.

I just finished cleaning with Mel, my mother made a lot of mess in the kitchen “ayo, how you get my high school picture in that jersey. I have gone taller too, that is dope” smiling at him “can I speak to Robyn for a moment please Mel” drying my hands off “sure birthday boy, also I need to find why Noella ain’t give you the present” Mel hit his arm “one of twenty six punches” Chris laughed rubbing his arm “mean as hell” watching him walk over to me “you like it? I think you look extra cute in the high school picture, imagine a daughter with long hair looking like you, actually no. That’s not cute” Chris laughed out “I would feel sorry for her if she did when she got a beautiful mom like you, you good?” Chris sat atop of the kitchen counter “what makes you think I’m not? I don’t want her to feel like she has to be like me, I really hope we never get that issue because it would hurt me. I don’t want that for my daughter” walking over to Chris “just seemed very annoyed at your family, you know they are joking with you. You not been doing anything to upset me at all” standing between Chris’ legs “just my family is annoying me and on top of that I am very hormonal and feeling sensitive about things, are you happy?” Chris gasped “happy!? I got a Rolex, and I am sitting in a Versace robe, I am over the moon. Thank you so much and your kind words to me, I don’t deserve it and I feel like you’re feeling a little emotional about things, I feel it, with the messages and everything. I know you, just don’t worry about it. You done a lot for me and I appreciate you” he wrapped his arms around me “thank you Poppa” I adore him a lot “hey Chris, JC is here” Chris looked behind him and at my brother “really? Why?” He questioned “I booked him for you, go and get a cut” moving back “oh wow, ok. Thank you” he is so oblivious about everything and it’s cute.

Yusuf is here and Mylah is also to dress me the hell up, I need to look good for my man’ birthday now “you are pregnant, like wow! It’s been a while, oh my god” Yusuf hugged me “like you really pregnant baby, you are glowing” I laughed out, he is having a meltdown seeing me this pregnant “be quiet and coming up the stairs, is Mel here with my dress and his suit?” He is nowhere to be found “knowing him he’s probably dressing up himself oh my god, my queen you look so good” holding Yusuf’ hand as we went up the steps “ayo Robyn” looking down at Chris “yeah?” He looks so handsome with his new cut “just want to say thank you, you keep surprising me even more. So thank you” I cooed out “it’s ok baby, I am going upstairs now” how adorable is he “your man is a cutie, happy birthday Chris. Can’t wait to dance with you tonight” elbowing Yusuf “hey!” He spat “thanks man” he’s so slow “you are so lucky he didn’t” mean mugging Yusuf “wait, he doesn’t know l... ?” Shaking my head “no he doesn’t know yet” I whispered “you are lucky he is not paying attention to it; he thinks we are going to a meal together and he’s paying” I laughed “he’s very cute you know; I mean bless his heart he came to say that to you. Awww baby” Yusuf cooed out.

It’s been a while since I have been dressed up like this and I am excited to say the least, someone to just do the dressing up for me instead of me doing my own makeup “doesn’t he think why everyone is here and why we came? Like deadass?” Yusuf is confused “well with what went on I stopped speaking about his birthday, I just altogether stopped caring and I just didn’t want to know because I was hurt. So to him he thinks he’s getting nothing but a meal, but I kept everything the same. I wanted to spoil him and he never did cheat on me, imagine if I just thought fuck it let me treat you like shit for something you never did, that would generally hurt him because he did nothing wrong. Privately I of course did what I needed but I kept it as that” Yusuf nodded his head “he seems like not the type so when I was reading I was like, nobody cheats on my sis” the bedroom door opened “oh, I came to get changed” Chris has clearly had enough of his robe “wait a little more, your outfit will be here” Chris nodded his head looking at me weirdly “you really getting ready for this meal huh” I smirked “I want to look nice for once, why not. Are you having fun?” I don’t want him to be sad now “yeah of course, I’m gonna be in the games room” he walked out, I’m glad I have a husband that can be a little slow “he’s cute, I’m gonna keep saying this” I giggled to myself.

Mel tied up my heels, he didn’t want me to bend over and do it which is sweet of him. I may regret putting these heels on but whatever, it goes with the outfit, but my feet will suffer and I am taking my slides with me just for later “you look so good Robyn” Mel got up from the floor, moving back from me “so beautiful, I saw this silk black dress and I was like Robyn will look perfect in it, your boobs have grown but it’s fine, beautiful. For your man’ birthday, I was speaking to Chris actually, he was so confused and said why am I wearing a suit, I said because I felt cute” I chuckled “he is not clicking on at all, he assumes we are having a meal, a real nice one too” Mel laughed shaking his head “he is so funny but come, let’s go down. A lot of the family have already left, let’s help you down” I feel so cute “does my butt look big” walking out of the bedroom “of course it does, but who cares. You flaunt that” he pointed at me as he walked towards the stairs “let’s be careful down these, I got you” smiling lightly at him, I hope Chris likes my dress. Holding onto the side, Mel took my bag from me and then I held onto his arm, slowly making my way down the steps “wow, it feels like I am meeting my wife all over again. Wow! Look at her” Chris cooed over him, his eyes lit up and smiled so wide “you look amazing twin, oh wow” I am getting shy now.

Me and my husband look so good, we look so fly and I am proud of how good we look, Chris thinking we are still going to a meal is making me laugh “how amazing is my Rolex though? Not as amazing as you my love” I cooed out “thank you Chris, you’re always there making me feel so special and so confident, thank you” Chris smiled at me “like you are getting me these things are just amazing, I didn’t expect it because like I wasn’t good to you, I didn’t call you and stuff, so I deserved it. Thank you, like with everything” he’s so thankful “don’t be, today is your day so stop saying thank you. I just want to see you smile and have fun, that’s what we are doing, that’s what you deserve and that’s what I want for you ok?” I love him so much “I’m hungry as hell actually, I can’t wait to eat” come to think of it that means he will be drinking on an empty stomach which doesn’t bother me actually because, it’s his day and if he wants to spend the next day drunk he can, I will let him have that fun today.

The driver stopped outside Poppy Nightclub “Giorgio Baldi?” Chris questioned “you know me so well but I wanted to spice it up, just thought I would you know have it here, a meal that is” Chris looks so confused, he is very confused “they do food in a club?” Rich opened the door for me, I also got Dennis to take pictures today. The full works I got it for him, I told them that I am coming so keep it quiet “it’s quiet isn’t it” I know Chris is not that stupid, maybe he is because he knows I wouldn’t lie to him which I am today “because I wanted it like this” Dennis is here bless him “Rich you looking handsome for my birthday, I appreciate it” Rich just side eyed him, Dennis continued to take pictures of Chris and I “shall we go inside then” I gestured “yeah, man I am hungry” nodding my head “ok go in then, be the man” Chris started to walk and then he stopped “are you lying to me?” he turned to look at me “about what part? Why would I lie? For what? Just go” maybe he is clicking on now, Dennis rushed by us to go inside, Rich held the door as we walked into the place which is pretty quiet the way I wanted it. Chris seems so reluctant to go further inside he seems to be walking so slow, he finally went by the board “allow me to introduce, his name Christopher Maurice Brown used to move snowflakes back in VA. Happy Birthday Chris, it’s big pimpin baby” Jay Z said on the mic as Big Pimpin started playing, I wish I walked ahead of him now. Chris froze in shock seeing the place just filled, I mean I was going to use my contacts, Jay didn’t say no “no way!” Chris spat, he turned to me in utter shock “Happy Birthday, I lied” I laughed saying “you got my dad in a club, oh my god!” I got him good, I am so proud of me.

Mel shimmied herself over to me “we be big pimping, spending cheese!” she sang to me “aye, aye. This is so fucking lit, like I am speechless. See me? His face was shocked, like he just peed himself. You should be proud of yourself” I grinned “I am, now I can relax. My feet are killing me already” looking over at Chris, he is busy just saying his hi to everyone. I invited everyone I could get for him everyone that knows him and then I did as Jay, he said yes so here we are. I will be taking these heels off actually “he looks handsome” my mom pointed at Chris, I grinned “he does” sitting down on the chair “already?” Mel said looking “yes, I have too. Even though these heels make me look even better but I can’t right now, the extra weight is a no” Mel crouched down “let me do it for you” looking up at my mom “I am going to say hi to him” nodding my head, this is going to be long night for me because I love my sleep more then ever, I have to make it through the night but Rorrey can deal with him drunk because I can’t do it.

#chrianna fanfiction #chrianna ff #fanfiction #fanfic #chrianna #chriannaff

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princessofgayskull · 4 years

Text

somehow I’ll still love you more (kitra fic sneak peak)

so this is a scene from my upcoming fic somehow I’ll still love you more, which at is core is going to be a kitra/baby fic. However, there’s a lot I want to say about this (you know me, can’t keep that word count down) so this fic will be nothing if not a full course meal.

The fic is told in a nonlinear fashion. This particular scene I wanted to share with you guys because I believe it touches on a lot of what the fic is going to be about. It’s set between the episodes White Out and Light Spinner in Season 2. Enjoy! (this has not been beta’d yet)

“Scorpia,”

“Hmm- huh?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

Pulling up the hand brake, Catra stopped the speeder in its tracks before whirling around, her left eye twitching like the movement was the only thing keeping her eyeball in place. “That- that thing you’re doing with your mouth. That noise you’re making under your breath.”

“Singing?” Scorpia raised an eyebrow.

“You call that singing?” Catra scoffed at her inferior. Look, Catra got that growing up in the Horde meant there weren’t any private music lessons (even if that was in Shadow Weaver’s job description she’d just relegate that responsibility off to some tone deaf Force Captain so she’d have more time to make Catra’s life a living hell and dote on Adora on the side) that all those half-witted princesses definitely got growing up, but it was like Scorpia was trying for the same sound her pincers made when she dragged them down slabs of concrete.

Catra’s hand squeezed the brake handle until the pressure hurt the bones in her hand, her left eye still twitching. It was like Scorpia was trying to tank Catra’s recent promotion as Hordak’s second in command by being as annoying as she could on purpose. But who wasn’t trying to derail all of Catra’s hard earned progress these days?

“Oh um, I could stop. If you want.” Scorpia muttered, her face falling into an expression that gave Catra the urge to both scream, puke, cry, and beg for forgiveness at the same time. And lately, every action, every word, every little breath that any took in her direct vicinity set off a domino effect of violent emotions in Catra, every single one too enormous and too consuming for her body.

Good thing Catra didn’t have time for any of that.

“Just-” Catra’s breath faltered when Scorpia refused to look at her (what? Now she was the bad guy just because she needed focus or Hordak would have her sent to Beast Island? Or worse?!), “- just don’t do it right now, okay?”

This earned Catra an enthusiastic nod, and she was too fucking tired to do anything but figure that was going to have to do, given the time crunch, and not mention, the insane amount of pressure she was running under. Clicking the brake, Catra pushed the handle down, fucking ecstatic to be driving the speeder the rest of the way in peace and quiet. Finally. Scorpia didn’t say another word, didn’t make another noise, until Catra was pulling up to the edge of Dawn’s Pass and activating the brake again.

That was good enough for Catra.

Just as Catra moved up to the edge to take a watchful stance of the town, Scorpia opened her big mouth. “Uh, boss? Not that I don’t love these recon missions with you lately, but I gotta ask: why are we staking out this village again? The Horde’s occupied this place for the last twelve years, and this isn’t exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to start hanging out over work? I mean, unless Dawn’s Pass has a mean bowling alley. Does- does it?”

“No,” Catra’s tail twitched in irritation.

“Oh.”

A cadet, waving his baton in a steady motions, stood at the broad brick wall that blocked off the town as his shift replacement approached from the west, whistling a tune through their helmet so ear shattering it put Scorpia’s new little song to shame. Keeping her eyes trained on the two of them, Catra braced herself for the metallic scent of magic to hit her nose. There was the quick swish of her claws unsheathing, and then, a pregnant silence.

If they’re going to strike, Sparkles and Rainbow and- and Adora, or any of the other dopey Princesses- are going to strike now.

But Catra watched unfold was a typical exchange between Horde Cadets: a simple salute, a complaint about standing for ten hours, and a wish for good luck during the dull, boring night shift. No Princesses. No magic. No threats anywhere in sight.

Nothing. Just like Dawn’s Pass went from being a primary target to just another boring occupied village and Catra’s paranoia had wasted another night. Grimacing, her claws digging into her forehead, Catra actually found herself hoping Hordak would be too busy wasting pleasantry on the Princess who sat at (or on it, literally, because Entrapta just thought she was the shit and that she could waltz into any room) his throne to speak with her tonight. Her lengthy string of failures was getting harder and harder to choke her way through excusing.

“So um,” Scorpia started up again, sending Catra’s ears laying flat up against her head. She exhaled a hot and irritated sigh, but the Horde’s hostage/princess stayed true to her inability to take a fucking hint, “when you said we were going to start hanging out after we came back with all that tech from the the Northern Reach, I just- I just didn’t picture us, you know patrolling.”

An angry pulse ran up Catra’s back at the mention of their tech victory- Entrapta’s tech victory- back in that shitty winter wasteland she almost froze her tail off in. “Scorpia,” her voice was thin, “I told you a thousand times, I don’t have time. Just take what you’re given and try not to complain.”

Wow, did she just sound like Shadow Weaver right then. Whatever, Catra turned her head away from Scorpia, in no mood to deal with the fallout of seeing her sort-of-friend’s expression, maybe the Old Crone was right about some things in the end.

“Can I ask why we’re here? Like here, here? What makes a place with no bowling alley so interesting?” The second Scorpia let up, Catra let her forehead hit the rim of the speeder and didn’t even blink at the ringing pain. Ugh, Scorpia just never gave up. How many times did Catra have to ask for some damn silence so she could think?

Running her claws down her face- again- Catra grunted, “Dawn’s Pass can’t fall into the hands’ of the Rebellion. If we lose it, or if they’re conspiring with the Princesses, we’re going to lose the Horde’s longest occupied village and we’ll be giving up the tactical advantage it gives us against that flower Princess’s kingdom.” And I will have another failure under my badge. If I lose another town, I can basically kiss my Force Captain badge goodbye. And maybe my life.

“Ohhhh…” Scorpia trailed off. At this point Catra was going to end up with a bitch of headache just from rolling her eyes at the other Force Captain. “Yeah, that makes sense. This’ll be fun! Patrolling the occupied territories with my bestie!”

Catra made a noise of disgust, but it wasn’t enough to stop Scorpia from pushing herself onto the front seat and almost pushing Catra out of it. Leaning the exoskeleton covered parts of her elbows onto the rim, Scorpia let out a contented sigh, her ditzy gaze trained on the town as Catra struggled- yipping and yelping to no end and scratching up the dinged up leather of the seat- to get her tail out from under the other woman’s butt.

Do the words “personal space” just mean absolutely jackshit to her? Catra, gripping her freed tail, growled under her breath and turned away from Scorpia. The seat was practically hers now! Looks like kneeling on the floor would have to do! It’s like I’m wearing a sign on my forehead that reads “what’s mine is yours, including the air I breathe!” Ugh, of course Hordak doesn’t listen to me, nobody does! Not even Scorpia! Everyone is too busy with their own heads up their asses to see what I’m trying to accomplish, or to give me enough space to let me do it! And she wonders why I don’t wanna “hang out after work,” or whatever.

Maybe bringing Scorpia as her backup belonged up there with some of Catra’s worst ideas; not like she didn’t have a pretty impressive tab of those wracked up already. Whatever, the universe wasn’t exactly open to responding to any of Catra’s actions with anything other than another round of punishment, so it wasn’t like acting on her impulsive or emotional notions were really going to be her undoing. Not with Hordak out for her neck, her badge no longer wielding the protective force that came with having real authority.

Catra was an idiot to think that power would’ve actually lasted her longer than a week, that now that she’d taken out Shadow Weaver and left her to her rotting self in a cell that there wouldn’t be another player on the board that could take her shield of Second in Command away from her. Well, that’s what she got for letting Entrapta into their vents. Helping them win the war or not, Horde or not, their resident techwhiz was still a Princess.

And princesses weren’t good for anything other than being annoyances that stood in Catra’s way.

“Are you seriously humming again, Scorpia?!” Catra yelped out, the volume of her voice loud enough to scare several birds from off the town’s wall. Her split eyes had been trained on the town as she crouched at the bottom of the speeder, the only entertainment the angry spiral echoing in her brain, tailing the action of a family and their wagon of sparse supplies as they approached the gate when the grating sound smacked her upside the head. The resulting intensity of her fury was almost enough to give Catra the strength to put her fist through the wall of the speeder.

Scorpia retreated into herself. “Sorry.”

Holding back a response, Catra just scoffed again and turned back to the previous subject of her attention. Watching one of the men of the family reach the gate and request entrance into his town was better than directing a full on meltdown at her inferior, kicking her out of the speeder, and forcing her to walk her way back to the Fright Zone. Catra wasn’t so far drowning her rage to something that idiotic, yet.

It was big yet. Catra knew that as she tried to shift her position, rolling her head on her shoulders and squeezing her fists, breathing only through her nostrils despite understanding that there was no sitting with an anger this encompassing. The feeling pushed and pushed and pushed at her physical walls until it was practically promising that Catra’s building fury would end one mesmerizing explosion, one that would take her, Scorpia, the family, the Horde Cadet, the entire town, all of it, out with a bang.

Now if only Scorpia had the brains to know that when she started her singing up again.

Catra peeled her blue eye open. The sun was beginning to set, and it had bathed the surrounding forest in shades of soft pink and orange, a scene so painfully ordinary it meant they couldn’t be anywhere else other than reality. Underneath the shadow cast by the stone wall, Catra took in a breath as she watched the first man continue to negotiate his family’s entrance into their own town.

Okay, so she’d hadn’t blown them all to fiery simtheriens- not the speeder, not the wall, not the little girl watched over by another man stumbling barefoot in the grass, letting out happy babbles as she pulled out clumps of grass and started sticking them in her cloth diaper until her father got down on his knees just to get her to stop. Guess Catra could count that as victory that her emotions hadn’t ended in an explosion that ended a child, a baby. Catra figured that given the fact that each step the little girl took on those chubby little legs of hers was a leap of faith that she probably wasn’t even a year and a half old.

The other man, the one that had chosen to forgo the customary negotiation in favor of watching the little girl experiment with walking near their wagon, moved from his kneeling position to pick her up. Something about the way the villager held her with a grip firm enough to keep his child from falling, yet not with so much strength that he hurt left a series of psychosomatic bruises up and down Catra’s ribs. She watched as the man ran a hand bigger than his daughter’s entire head through her soft and downy mauve hair, careful to avoid the tiny stumps in her head that would eventually become long enough and pronounced enough to match the horns of her father’s head. Catra let out a breath she was holding just to suck in another.

“Dada!” Even from the faraway vantage of the speeder Catra’s ears still picked up on the sound of the little girl recognizing her father. Because the universe was both impartial and cruel. Right as Catra realized she had stuck one set of claws in her mouth and she was chewing on them- who was she?! Adora?! Out her biting her freaking nails ‘cause something had the nerve to make her uncomfortable?- the baby stuck her tiny, chubby little hand into her father’s bright orange beard and yanked without mercy.

Now that guy’s screams scared the rest of the birds away.

As the family’s head negotiator rushed away from the Horde Cadet to tend to his husband’s facial hair, their daughter laughing up a riot at their combined reactions, Scorpia leaned over to where Catra sat on the floor, her tail twitching back and forth. “Uh boss?” she started but Catra didn’t turn away, her hand clutched into the fabric that rested above her sternum and not on her Force Captain badge for once. “Should we do something about these guys?”

“Why? They’re not Princesses.” They’re just a normal family trying to get into the place they live, so they can take their daughter home and have a dinner together that’s not mush, and then tuck their daughter in, tell her bedtime stories, be there in the night in case she has nightmares and needs them.

The fathers joined in on their daughter’s laughter.

“Well, that is true.”

A new feeling crept up Catra’s spine, but this time around the discomfort didn’t bring to her the edge of explosion. Implosion, actually. It was the same heaviness that settled in her lungs and crawled up to her throat, a slow and destructive effective infection of Catra’s self, when Hordak shut down her ideas to let Entrapta speak. When the Princesses left a trail of glitter behind running, tripping over themselves to follow She Ra’s lead. When Shadow Weaver cupped Adora’s face and showed her with praise for the simplest fucking task.

Yeah, Catra knew it made her the world’s biggest idiot to keep her eyes on the seemingly indifferent family and the happiness that radiated off them. She was aware of the damage she brought on herself by not turning away, the risk she ran by letting her emotions run her. So why couldn’t she look somewhere else, anywhere else?

“I can’t wait to be a mom.” Scorpia said out of nowhere. Ears flying straight up, Catra blinked before turning to gawk at her.

“Wait, really?” A mom mom, as in a person who takes care of and looks after her children?

“Yeah, I mean, it’s something I’ve always wanted.” Scorpia shrugged, somehow rubbing her neck with those big pincers of hers. “Why, do you think that’s a bad idea?”

“Scorpia, we’re in the middle of a war,” and that was putting it bluntly, “Besides, Hordak doesn’t even allow fraternization between his soldiers, much less-” her sputtering stops, Catra’s brain still tripping over the word fraternization, “having a family!”

“Well, we’re not going to be at war for the rest of our lives, Catra. Once we get the rebellion to surrender, I kinda wanted to set down roots, do something other than be a Force Captain, not that I don’t love doing that. I’m sure Hordak will loosen up about the whole fraternization thing as soon as we win! I mean, you’ve seen how he was with Entrapta!”

At her words, Catra came close to all out hurling over the speeder’s edge. It was crappy enough of Scorpia to bring up how Entrapta and Hordak were getting closer every day and shoving Catra out of the position she worked her ass off for, but then she had to go and frame it like that?

Look, Catra got that Entrapta wasn’t the most socially aware princess, but yikes. That didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of standard.

“What about you, Catra?” Scorpia continued, “What do you- um, what do you see yourself doing after the war?”

Catra met Scorpia’s eyes, only to regret it. “I- I-” she stuttered, looking away and forcing her eyes closed. Pfft, after the war? After the war? How the hell was Catra supposed to picture an after when her entire life, her entire purpose, every goal she’d ever had, was only because there was a war to begin with?

The Horde conquers the rest of the planet, sends the Princesses running, puts She Ra in the ground, and what, Catra was just supposed to have a plan for after that? What… what was Catra supposed to do when they did win, when the Horde pulled off everything she worked for?

Even though she was expecting to find an emptiness, a blank space, a new start for the after the war when she tried imagining it, all Catra could picture was blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail, melodic laughter accented by brief snorts ringing in her, the bluest eyes cutting through the longing. The same longing that plagued Catra when she forced her eyes open and saw the two fathers talking to their daughter in gentle yet bright voices, explaining to her that the soldiers had processed their papers and they could go home now.

“I don’t know.” was Catra’s quiet response.

There wasn’t any promise Hordak would keep her alive that long anyway, or if there would be anything left to live for by the time Catra got Adora down her knees and ended it all- by giving into that implosion that lived deep down in her core, letting it rip right through her and seeing to it that her love for Adora severed the universe in two, creating black hole that would suck them all in eventually- right then and there. Like it always promised to.

A part of Catra tried to push beyond that implosion, tried to picture the future Scorpia envisioned in her mind of setting down roots and birthing legacies. Was there a part of her, beyond the pain and the brokenness, that wanted what Scorpia wanted, too?

Watching that family tonight had been the only part of her mission that hadn’t felt the same as downing a vat of acid down her throat. And as hell bent as Catra was on obliterating any princess that dared to mess with this town’s occupation, there was no animosity in her heart towards that little girl.

She was kinda cute, in the mischievous, funny kind of way. And almost fun- for a baby, that is.

But when Catra closed her eyes once more to picture that little girl and her happy, innocent smile, all that was waiting for her was the image of a shriveled shadow, locked and rotting away back in the Fright Zone.

#catradora #sav writes a baby fic #catradora fic #she ra and the princesses of power #up until like three hours ago i forgot i told you guys i wasn't going to write this fic #surprise!#I'm hoping not to trip before the finish line #but thank you to tol and ren for convincing me to sit down and write this

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romeulusroy · 4 years

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War Boy (John Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: John

Word Count: 1,682

Inspired By: Holiday by Dana Williams

Warning/s: abuse mention

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan

A/N: I think this is the longest fic I've ever written, which is pretty cool :) I never thought I'd be able to write something greater than 500 words. It's not my usual style, which is a little frustrating, but in the end I like how it turned out. I had no idea where it was going until the very end, and if that doesn't explain the writing process, I'm not sure what does! I'm super close to 200 fics/a third part of the fic masterlist and that's really exciting! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Infidelity. Lust. Greed. Envy. He always wanted what wasn't his. A sin, if he believed in those kinds of things. If all the things he'd done in his lifetime weren't so much worse, he would have been afraid. But he wasn't. He should have been ashamed, guilty, pleading on his hands and knees to a bitter God for forgiveness, for understanding he wasn't deserving of, but he couldn't, he wouldn't, because he didn't feel bad. A man of crime, of impulse, sharing a bed with someone who slipped their ring off for him was the least of his worries. To anyone looking in, it would have seemed wrong, sick. It was. It should have seemed that way to him. But he watched from the inside, he knew what really was going on, the full story behind the locked windows and drawn curtains. There were things the rest of the world thought they knew, that they put their faith into, but only you and John knew what was really going on.

It wasn't about the sneaking, the secrets, it wasn't about revenge, getting back at him for all the things he ever did, all the things he put you through. It was about finally being wanted. It was about bloody fists. A heavy silence blanketed over the dinner table. A shove, a grin, a power dynamic. You loved him most when he wasn't around. Felt the most safe, the most adored when the space between you grew, the soil between you deepening, rotting. A man of war, who'd kissed her cheeks and cried when she fell instead of him. It should have been him in those trenches, in her arms. He'd told you that only once, his eyes restless, crazed, begging for one night of rest, too ashamed to admit in daylight. It should have been him, not the brave men beside him, not the innocent boys thrown into this without a second thought. It should have been his funeral, his shallow grave, his things distributed among friends, desperate for anything they could get their hands on. They'd be sad, of course, mourning another loss, but sad didn't matter when the world was ending.

It should have been him. And sometimes, you wished it was.

Someone you worshiped, someone you would have done anything for. That's what love made you believe. He was the light of your life, the reason of your very existence. A boy, then. Kids, you both were, blinded by something bigger than yourselves, something you thought could escape death herself, last a hundred lifetimes. Young, sweet, with summer in your veins. You were so naive. He was different before the war. Softer, tender, he was affectionate, drunk on the ideas of a future together. Married before he left, a ring around his finger when he stepped on that train. He'd lost it, somewhere along the line, and that should have been the first warning when he came back. They all changed, but not like him. The bombs, the guns, the shock of it settled in his gut, poisoning his blood. The fire of the explosives lived inside him. It slept when he did, but it was always looking for something to set it off.

The smallest spark would be enough.

Then it wasn't just anger, but rage. Wrath. A sea of red. Everything in his path needed to be destroyed regardless of the skin it wore. Shattered glass. Broken furniture. Holes in walls. Fabric ripped, or torn, or punctured. Even when he dreamed he clenched his fists, as if he were ready for a fight, a battle, that would never come. You were his favorite, though. Once a cherished item in his collection, sat on the top shelf for safe keeping, now you were nothing but a rag doll. Thrown around for his own entertainment. Bruised, bleeding, left to clean yourself up, mend your own wounds. Sometimes it was barely noticeable. Sometimes it wasn't. And that's when John came into your life.

An old friend, one he'd witnessed war with.

A visit. Simple, quick, a check up on someone he regretted losing contact with. Heard stories of someone special back home, someone who kept him going. From the second you saw him, though, you knew he was different. Careful eyes, all smiles and a wicked humor. He'd held on to that. With bloody nails, he wouldn't let her take that from him. He took notice of everything, whether or not you realized. The purple fingerprints in your skin. The badges under your sleeves. Your limp. The flinching, the bracing when a glass was set down too fast, too hard. John made a point to find his way in this part of Birmingham more often, knowing not only had the men changed, but their lives and families as well. It wasn't just the soldiers who suffered.

He became a source of comfort. Walking your husband home when he drank too much to remember where he lived, helping him up the stairs when his dead weight was too much to carry. It was his way of coping, his way of control. If he was too far gone to remember his own name, he couldn’t hurt anyone. Drown the demons in booze, forgetting how violent he could be when he was hungover. Passed out, leaving the two of you alone. You found yourself confiding in him, telling him things you never would have told anyone. Admitting to your own exhaustion, your own defeat, raising your white flag. You didn't have to explain the flinching, the hesitation to trust, all the little things he picked up on, all the things he'd seen too often. He was a man of destruction. Smashing his bottles, begging for a fight, starting them when no one else would. A form of self mutilation. Too many nights John spent taking care of the gashes in his face, of his open knuckles.

He was trying to beat the war out of himself. Scare it away. Make it rupture.

Sometimes he was unexpected. Knocking out of nowhere when your husband was at work. You should have known he wasn't looking for him. You should have known, but you didn't. And neither did he, inviting him for dinner, for drinks, any occasion. Before you knew it, you were spending every night together. Over the table, your laughs hushed, your words effortless. Learned more about him than you ever thought. A wife he loved, passed away. A brood of kids he fears he's not good enough for. A complicated family and a business with a license to kill. The thought of him, funny John with his quips and fast wit, with his endless supply of dirty jokes and filthy words, a father. You had a hard time picturing him reading bedtime stories or folding baby clothes. It was something you used to dream of, having kids. Not anymore, not with a man like that. You'd never forgive yourself, ruining an innocent life, raised in a field of landmines. It wouldn't be fair to them. You couldn't do that.

He brought them a few times. Pudgy fingers, toothless giggles, tales about school, about all the things they were learning, all the people they'd become one day. It did something to your home. Turned a lifetime of pain and fear into excitement, into joy. They didn't know what life had in store for them, the possibilities endless. Infinite. All of them wanting a piece of you, sitting on your lap, whispering all the secrets their father told them not to tell. He spoke of you often, or at least, that's what they said. John in his natural state, a child on his hip, another pulling him by the cuff. He was needed. That was more than you could say for yourself. A pain, an ache in your chest, watching your husband. Awkward, anxious, angry. Angry at little fingerprints across every surface. Angry at the noise, at the constant energy, the neediness. You knew he thought that was weak, to need someone. He couldn't stand to be near them.

He couldn't stand anything anymore.

John would have killed the man. If he were anyone else, he would have sliced him in half, make a godless man see heaven for himself. But he wasn't just anyone, they'd seen hell together. Walked through fire, spit in the face of the devil himself and lived to see another day. That was rare. It made a bond unlike any other. But that didn't mean he had to like him, that he had to approve of everything he did. Drunk together, one night, the last two at the bar. He never meant for it to get out. It was the whiskey talking. A single sentence, a threat in passing. If you ever hurt them again, I'll fucking kill ya. His words were slurred, and heavy between his teeth, but there was truth to them. He could have said something a lot worse. He could have told him he was undeserving of you, that he was fucked up to hurt you, to take you for granted. He could have said that he changed, that he wasn't the friend he was anymore, that he couldn't stand the sight of him. John could have admitted that he loved you, from the second he saw you, he loved you and he wanted to protect you, that he thought of you every single day.

But he didn't.

Instead he made a promise, an oath to you, to him. One he never wanted to go to through with. One he'd have to, he knew it. Now he was waiting across the street, ducking in the shadows, watching for him to leave, to go to the bar after another meltdown. The screaming could be heard through the neighborhood. It didn't matter who he used to be, this was him now. This was his fate. He should have listened to John that night, but he didn't, he didn't listen to anyone anymore, and now he'd face the end.

John just hoped you'd forgive him after all this.

#writing #john shelby #john shelby drabble #john shelby oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders drabble #peaky blinders oneshot #john shelby x reader #john x reader #x reader #john shelby fic #peaky blinders fic #drabble #oneshot #x gender neutral #gender neutral #x gender neutral reader

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love-killed-the-superstar · 4 years

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heres day 5!! more cassunzel angst! and now... i sleep

CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 5 - HEARTBREAK

Cass can’t sleep.

It’s not like she isn’t used to sleeping in unfamiliar places. These past three years she’s slept in barn lofts, under bridges, in caves and up trees and even in shitty, overpriced taverns with bedbugs. She’s slept through rain and snow and even a sandstorm, once; so why is it that she’s been unable to sleep since arriving in Corona, as she lies in what could only be described as the world’s comfiest bed?

Well, sharing it with Rapunzel and Eugene could be the reason. And not so much because either of them snore, or toss and turn, or murmur in their sleep; that much she can handle, after the year they spent on the road, with little to no privacy between them all. She’s shared a bed with Rapunzel a few times now and slept soundly, although the first time it happened her heart thudded away rapidly the entire night, being so close in proximity.

Maybe it’s because the sheets are too silky, the mattress too soft? Maybe it’s the quiet of the room, where every rustle of sheets feels like a roar in her ears? She’s so used to the sounds of nature, after all, or the drunken cheer of fellow travellers, or the gentle breathing of Fidella and the scratching of Owl’s talons as he watches over her dutifully. She’s a drifter now, and maybe palace life and the luxuries it brings just… doesn’t suit her anymore. It never did feel right, but now it’s more alien than ever.

Fuck, who is she trying to kid? This isn’t about the bed, or the company she keeps. It’s everything else around her that’s keeping her awake; things she can’t escape from whenever she returns.

As quietly as she can, she rises from the bed and creeps over to the large window leading out to Rapunzel’s balcony. She slips through easily enough, though not without a loud creak that causes Eugene to stir; he blinks blearily, yawns, and rolls over, his back to the window. Thankfully.

The change in temperature is stark, and she allows the cold night air to wash over her with a sigh of relief. Out of that room, back into nature again, she’s finally able to just breathe. Corona is mostly dark; a few stray lamps send the courtyard awash with a dim russet glow, but otherwise she is pleasantly plunged into darkness. Across the water, there are flickering lights from Old Corona. The sight, while a little comforting in its familiarity, brings no real catharsis to her. Instead, it just makes her think.

She shouldn’t have come back.

It’s her own fault, of course, for not writing ahead of time to let them know of her imminent return. It’s so stupid, to think that Rapunzel and Eugene will always be able to drop everything when she swings by, and she’s taken it for granted. Usually when she comes back Rapunzel will take the whole day off to catch up, hear out her latest stories, fill her head up with all that has been going on in Corona without her. They’ll spend a few days riding the horses out, swimming in the lagoon if the weather permits it, having private candlelit dinners and stargazing each night. Now that she’s more involved in royal duties, Cass visiting gives her an excuse to take a few days off and recover from the stresses of everyday life too.

This visit has been different. For a start, Cass somehow forgot that coming back this time of year meant her visit would coincide with the goodwill festival. Idiot. Rapunzel has been rushing around constantly since her arrival yesterday, just trying to keep everything ticking along smoothly in the lead up to the event. Cassandra offered to help pretty much the moment she’d left Fidella in the palace stables, but Rapunzel assured her everything was handled, leaving her to catch some down time on her own.

They’ve only managed to catch up twice since then, each day over dinner, and one of those was accompanied by the king and queen. She certainly isn’t… opposed to dining with them, as awkward as the conversation may be given they have very little common ground to talk about. But when that eats into precious little time she has to spend with the woman she loves, it pisses her off.

Eugene is busy too. Cassandra never thought she’d see the day where she grew frustrated by his improved work ethic, but he’s been so busy organising security, as well as some ridiculous new flag-wielding march for the soldiers that he’s introduced to the festivities in the last year or so, there’s been no room to tag along after him either. She watched today, for an hour or two, as they fruitlessly waved those dumb fucking flags around, but where’s the fun if she doesn’t even get to poke fun at them with Eugene’s rapport? Even Lance has been busy, preparing to run some sort of food stall with the help of Kiera and Catalina. In the end she spent the day with her father, catching up on life and riding out to a local fishing spot to drink ale and pass the time together. It’s by no means a disaster of a day, but… damn, it felt empty.

She feels empty.

It’s not like Cass didn’t notice the stares as she moved from place to place, or the whispers, just quiet enough that it’s left to her own imagination to work out the things that the people of Corona still whisper about her. Didn’t Rapunzel tell her once that things would get better over time, if she just left room for everyone to forgive and forget? And if active atonement is the way forward, how can she offer that if there’s no breathing room in Rapunzel’s rigid festival agenda for her?

Her eyes sting, and she reaches to clutch a fistful of her night shirt. The lights across the water begin to blur together, her breath comes shorter, and her throat… it aches, a cry just on the tip of her tongue.

For all that she’s convinced herself that she doesn’t need Corona anymore, that it only serves as an anchor she’s pulled back to from time to time, and solely for the purpose of visiting Rapunzel… maybe it’s Corona that’s run out of use for her. It’s… not the kindest thought she’s had today.

There’s a loud creak as the window behind her opens out. Cass can’t bring herself to turn around, even as she hears a voice call her name gently. If she tries to respond, she knows her voice will be thick with grief, so she doesn’t make a sound.

“It’s pretty cold out here,” Rapunzel continues quietly. There’s a click as the window shuts, and Rapunzel pads over to join her at the edge of the balcony. “Have you been out here long?”

Cass shakes her head and takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady her voice as best she can. “Only for a few minutes.”

“Liar. Your hands are freezing.” Rapunzel reaches for one, holding it to her mouth and breathing to warm it up. The sudden rush of heat sends a violent tremble through Cassandra’s body and she pulls her hand away quickly, gripping the flat surface of the rail as her vision swims. “Hey, Cass. Talk to me? I… I know things have been busy around here and we haven’t really spoken much. But I can lend an ear now.”

“Raps, no. You’re exhausted from organising the festival, you – y-you should-”

Damn it, her words are starting to crack. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes another deep breath. The ache in her throat is back again; it’s a dam holding back her cries, and it’s frustrating as fuck. Would it kill her not to agonise over things that don’t matter? It’s like every time she comes back her brain is scrambling to find some new reason to sabotage her visit, a new thing to fixate on that eventually leads back to this tired thought pattern – that she’s a horrible person and everyone has finally given up waiting for her to get better.

Cassandra reaches to touch the base of her throat, where it hurts the most, and whispers, “You should go back to bed.”

She’s met with silence for a few moments, as Rapunzel carefully chooses her next words.

“You know, Cass, it's almost been a year already.”

“What? A year since what?”

Rapunzel leans forward, her face swimming into view, before saying gently, “Since the last time you cried with me.”

A hot blush bleeds through to her cheeks, and Cass stares hard at the floor. “I'm – I don't...”

“You don't have to justify or explain it. But I'm glad you let me near you when you're feeling like this, Cass. Instead of keeping it to yourself, I mean.”

“Raps...” Cassandra lowers her head. The tears keep coming, and she tries in vain just to plug them completely. She takes a few steps away from the edge, staring hard at the floor, and clutches at her throat a little harder. The pinching of her flesh is a welcome distraction from the pain inside. “I just – I just wonder if me coming back here was a big mistake? Maybe I should have stayed away.”

“What?” In a flash Rapunzel is on her knees before her, looking up at her with big, confused eyes. “Why? Why would you think that?”

“I... I messed up so bad, Raps. I know it's in the past, but people still talk about it. People still see me as the girl who's one meltdown away from destroying the kingdom. And they're right to, aren't they? They know the only person that can rein me in is you and – and you have more responsibilities these days, so of course you can't just drop everything for me, I would never ask you to do that. But Rapunzel, it's so much harder than I thought it would be just to exist in Corona by myself.”

The crying is starting to ebb back into her voice again and she squeezes her eyes shut tight so she won't have to see the way Rapunzel's own face crumples, as it always does when Cass finally bears the full brunt of her ugly emotions out in the open.

“Oh, Cassandra...” The softness, the care Rapunzel handles her with is beyond what Cass deserves after all this time. The road was supposed to have hardened her, but Corona unravels that process so easily it just makes her want to scream. Still, when she feels Rapunzel stand upright, scooping Cass into a hug that is steady and grounding, she gives into the grief and finally lets herself cry on Rapunzel's shoulder again, just like every other time she comes home.

…

Soon enough the crying has come and gone, as quickly as a flash flood, leaving the two of them sore-eyed and fatigued. At some point they gravitated back to the edge of the balcony, hoisting themselves to sit with their feet dangling. The night goes on, unwavering, and they talk things out as they always do when things get too heavy for them to ignore.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Raps,” Cass confesses, staring up at the moon. “I mean, it’s been years. I enjoy life on the road, but… I still don’t understand destiny, or what it feels like or how to find it. Everything I ever knew about it turned out to be wrong, and now – well. I’m back here with nothing to show.”

“Well, that’s not quite true, is it?” Rapunzel reaches over to trace a finger over a long cut that extends from the base of her wrist til midway up her arm. “You have some new scars. Each with their own terrifying story, I’m sure.”

“I slipped and cut it on a rock while I was climbing down by a waterfall,” Cass deadpans. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Raps. There’s no big picture here. No overarching point to anything I’m doing, it’s all just… stupid, small, unrelated incidents. That’s my life.”

Rapunzel huffs, offended on her behalf. “Well, I think it’s wrong to consider yourself a failure just because there’s no linear path to your life right now! Maybe there never will be, I don’t know, but thinking this way only seems to be hurting you. Not all destinies are clear-cut.”

“I just… I want you to be able to look at me and be proud of the things I’ve done,” Cassandra murmurs, shivering in the cold night air. She hugs herself for warmth, and Rapunzel scoots in a little closer and drapes an arm around her to share that precious bit of body heat. “And right now, I just feel a bit aimless and like my life is going nowhere and now I don’t feel needed here, either.”

“Cass, if you really want me to keep you busy for the next few days, I can find some odd jobs for you,” Rapunzel says, shaking her head in exasperation. “But please, don’t ever think that I don’t need you. Do you think I would worry over you like this if I didn’t?”

“Maybe not.” Cass sighs heavily and leans into Rapunzel. “...Can I be really insecure for a moment?”

Rapunzel nods.

“I know I went out into the world with so much confidence, but it’s going on three years now and lately I just – I mean. Damn it. D’you think… maybe, do you think that you can still be proud of me, even though I keep losing my direction?”

“Oh, Cass.” Rapunzel leans over and presses a kiss to Cassandra’s hair, pulling her tight against her for warmth. They rock a little in the awkward embrace. “I will always, always be proud of you, no matter what you do, just by being here and being yourself. All right? But – but I’m not the one you should be asking this question to, you know. You’re more incredible than I can even put into words, but do you recognise that in yourself?”

“I do,” Cassandra promises, shutting her eyes and allowing herself to slacken in Rapunzel’s arms. “Of course I do. I just… need an off day every once in a while where I can pawn my self-worth onto you.”

Rapunzel laughs softly. “Good. Then, listen to me. For as long as the world keeps turning, I will never give up on you. I’ll never stop believing in you, or loving you. And if you want my expert advice, being as well-versed in destiny as I am, it seems to sneak up on you when you aren’t looking for it. Maybe let it sweep you up, instead of getting so stuck in your own head.”

“You make an excellent point. Or maybe I’m just getting tired, it’s hard to tell.” Cass pulls back a little and kisses Rapunzel slowly, her fingers getting a little tangled in her hair as she deepens the kiss. A few minutes pass where nothing needs saying at all; but an icy wind blows through, breaking them apart as they both shudder from the cold.

“Think maybe it’s time to go back inside?” Rapunzel asks, red-faced and starry-eyed. Cass nods breathlessly, scooping Rapunzel in her arms and setting her safely down on the other side of the balcony.

“I do. Hey, uh… Raps?”

Rapunzel, hand outstretched to pull Cass to her feet, tilts her head. “Yeah?”

“...I love you.”

A warm smile melting onto her face, Rapunzel tugs her back towards the window. “I love you too. Enough that I’ll let you be the little spoon tonight.”

“Oh, score. Hope this doesn’t make Fitzherbert too jealous.”

“He can have me any other time of year,” Rapunzel says cheerfully, leaning in to peck Cass lightly on the lips before ushering her through the window. “Now, get comfy.”

Cass drags her tired bones to the bed, sinking into the mattress like a stone through still water as Rapunzel latches the windows shut. Her eyes grow heavy, and as cold, comforting arms wrap securely around her, she drops out like a light.

#cassunzel week #cassunzel week 2020 #cassunzel #tangled the series #tts #writing

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Sunday, March 14, 2021

Warp-speed spending and other surreal stats of COVID times (AP) The U.S. effort in World War II was off the charts. Battles spread over three continents and four years, 16 million served in uniform and the government shoved levers of the economy full force into defeating Nazi Germany and imperial Japan. All of that was cheaper for American taxpayers than this pandemic. The $1,400 federal payments going into millions of people’s bank accounts are but one slice of a nearly $2 trillion relief package made law this past week. With that, the United States has spent or committed to spend nearly $6 trillion to crush the coronavirus, recover economically and take a bite out of child poverty. Set in motion over one year, that’s warp-speed spending in a capital known for gridlock, ugly argument and now an episode of violent insurrection. Once, the attack on Pearl Harbor was the modern marker for national trauma. About 2,400 Americans died in the assault on the naval base in Hawaii that drew the United States into the Pacific war. The nearly 3,000 dead from the terrorist attacks Sept. 11, 2001, became the new point of comparison as the ravages of COVID-19 grew. The U.S. reached a total of 3,000 COVID-19 deaths even before March 2020 was out. By December, the country was experiencing the toll of 9/11 day after day after day. With deaths now moderating—so that a 9/11 toll comes cumulatively every few days—the U.S. death toll now has surpassed 530,000, exceeding U.S. combat deaths of all of the last century’s wars.

The Fighter Jet That’s Too Pricey to Fail (NYT) Last week, the new head of the House Armed Services Committee, Representative Adam Smith, said in an interview that the F-35 fighter jet was a “rathole” draining money. He said the Pentagon should consider whether to “cut its losses.” That promptly set off another round of groaning about the most expensive weapon system ever built, and questions about whether it should—or could—be scrapped. Conceived in the 1990s as a sort of Swiss army knife of fighter jets, the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter was meant to come as a conventional fighter for the Air Force, as a carrier-based fighter for the Navy and as a vertical-landing version for the Marines. The problems, and there were lots of them, set in early. All three versions of the plane ended up at least three years behind schedule, and sharing less than a quarter of their parts instead of the anticipated 70 percent. Many of those already built need updates; hundreds of defects are still being corrected; the jet is so expensive to maintain that it costs around $36,000 per hour to fly (compared to $22,000 for an older F-16). At the current rate, it will cost taxpayers more than $1 trillion over its 60-year life span. So, kill the monster and start looking for alternatives? Or declare it too big to fail and make the best of it? Last month, the Air Force chief of staff, Gen. Charles Brown Jr., gave his answer when he said that the F-35 should become the Ferrari of the fleet: “You only drive it on Sundays.”

Colorado and Wyoming brace for severe snowstorm and potential blizzard conditions this weekend (Washington Post) A major winter storm is set to unload massive amounts of snow, the most in years in some areas, in parts of Colorado, Wyoming and western Nebraska this weekend into early next week. Before the wintry onslaught is over, some locations in the Colorado foothills and eastern Rockies might end up with as much as four feet. Winds are also going to howl, bringing the potential for blizzard conditions across parts of the region. Gusts of 35 to 50 mph or higher will cause blowing and drifting snow, as well as compromised visibility and whiteout conditions. Winter storm warnings are in effect in Denver, Boulder and Fort Collins where the National Weather Service predicts 12 to 24 inches of snow. In Cheyenne, Wyo., also under a winter storm warning, 22 to 34 inches of snow is forecast.

Stay or go? Fence, Guard pose Capitol security questions (AP) Nobody, it seems, wants to keep the security fence around the U.S. Capitol anymore—except the police who fought off the horrific attack on Jan. 6. Lawmakers call the razor-topped fencing “ghastly,” too militarized and, with the armed National Guard troops still stationed at the Capitol since a pro-Trump mob laid siege, not at all representative of the world’s leading icon of democracy. “All you have to do is to see the fencing around the Capitol to be shocked,” Del. Eleanor Holmes Norton, D-D.C., said in an interview Friday. How to protect lawmakers, while keeping the bucolic Capitol grounds open to visitors has emerged as one of the more daunting, wrenching questions from deadly riot. With warnings of another attack in early March by pro-Trump militants and threats on lawmakers that have nearly doubled since the start of 2021, the police, the Pentagon and lawmakers themselves are wrestling with how best to secure what has been a sprawling campus mostly open to visiting tourists and neighborhood dog walkers alike.

Bolivia arrests ex-leader in crackdown on opposition (AP) The conservative interim president who led Bolivia for a year was arrested Saturday as officials of the restored leftist government pursue those involved in the 2019 ouster of socialist leader Evo Morales, which they regard as a coup, and the administration that followed. Jeanine Áñez was detained in the early morning in her hometown of Trinidad and was flown to the capital, La Paz. She had earlier warned that officials were searching for her, terming it “abuse and persecution” in Twitter posts. The arrest of Áñez and warrants against numerous other former officials further worsened political tensions in a South American country already torn by a cascade of perceived wrongs suffered by both sides. Those include complaints that Morales had grown more authoritarian with nearly 13 years in office, that he illegally ran for a fourth reelection and then allegedly rigged the outcome, that right-wing forces led violent protests that prompted security forces to push him into resigning and then cracked down on his followers, who themselves protested the alleged coup. Dozens of people were killed in a series of demonstrations against and then for Morales.

British police officer charged with murder in missing woman’s kidnapping and killing (Washington Post) A British police officer was charged late Friday in the kidnapping and killing of Sarah Everard, whose disappearance and death has sent shock waves through the nation. Wayne Couzens, 48, who previously had posts at Downing Street and the Palace of Westminster, was charged with the kidnap and murder of Everard, a 33-year-old marketing executive. She was last seen at 9:30 p.m. on March 3, walking home from a friend’s house in south London. Her disappearance sparked a national outcry in Britain over the harassment and abuse of women. The case has struck a chord with women across the country, with many demanding change. In the days after Everard’s disappearance, women have taken to social media to share their own experiences and fears about their personal safety and walking alone. Caitlin Moran, an author and journalist, tweeted: “Being a woman: my “outside” day finishes at sundown. If I haven’t taken the dog for a walk/jogged by then, I can’t.” Writing in the Guardian, columnist Gaby Hinsliff said: “When she went missing, any woman who has ever walked home alone at night felt that grim, instinctive sense of recognition. Footsteps on a dark street. Keys gripped between your fingers.”

Car bomb kills at least 7, injures 53 in Afghan Herat province (Reuters) A powerful car bomb near a police station on Friday night killed at least seven people and wounded more than 50 others in Afghanistan’s western Herat province, officials said. Herat Governor Sayed Abdul Wahid Qatali said that at least 53 people, including civilians and security forces, were hurt when a van packed with explosives went off in a crowded part of the city in the evening.

4 killed as Myanmar forces continue crackdown on protesters (AP) Security forces in Myanmar on Saturday again met protests against last month’s military takeover with lethal force, killing at least four people by shooting live ammunition at demonstrators. Three deaths were reported in Mandalay, the country’s second-biggest city, and one in Pyay, a town in south-central Myanmar. There were multiple reports on social media of the deaths, along with photos of dead and wounded people in both locations. The independent U.N. human rights expert for Myanmar, Tom Andrews, said Thursday that “credible reports” indicated security forces in the Southeast Asian nation had so far killed at least 70 people, and cited growing evidence of crimes against humanity since the military ousted the elected government of Aung San Suu Kyi.

For Syrians, a decade of displacement with no end in sight (AP) Mohammed Zakaria has lived in a plastic tent in eastern Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley for almost as long as war has raged in his native Syria. He and his family fled bombings in 2012, thinking it would be a short, temporary stay. His hometown of Homs was under siege, and subject to a ferocious Syrian military campaign. He didn’t even bring his ID with him. Almost 10 years later, the family still hasn’t gone back. The 53-year-old Zakaria is among millions of Syrians unlikely to return in the foreseeable future, even as they face deteriorating living conditions abroad. On top of his displacement, Zakaria now struggles to survive Lebanon’s financial meltdown and social implosion. Nearly half a million people have been killed, and about 12,000 children have died or were injured in the conflict in the past decade, according to the U.N. children’s agency, UNICEF. The conflict also resulted in the largest displacement crisis since World War II. The Norwegian Refugee Council this week said that since the war began in 2011, an estimated 2.4 million people were displaced every year in and outside Syria. Hundreds of thousands of Syrians face continued displacement with each year that the conflict continues and economic conditions deteriorate.

Number of missing Nigerian students raised to 39 after armed raid (Reuters) Nine more students than originally thought are missing after gunmen stormed a forestry college in northwest Nigeria earlier this week, a government official in Nigeria’s Kaduna state said on Saturday. The revision brings the total number of missing students to 39 following Thursday’s nighttime raid on the Federal College of Forestry Mechanization, the fourth mass school abduction in northern Nigeria since December. Kaduna city is the capital of Kaduna state, part of a region where attacks by gangs of armed men, referred to as bandits, have festered for years. Military and police attempts to tackle the gangs have had little success, while many worry that state authorities are making the situation worse by letting kidnappers go unpunished, paying them off or providing incentives.

#headlines #news

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