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thatbitchisbae · 3 years

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Mistletoe

George Weasley x Fem! Reader

Summary: a collection of moments leading up to a kiss.

Warnings : bad writing.

A/n-Christmas is almost here so I figured.. Why not?!

The rain was pouring outside, while dementors were surrounding Hogwarts, always alert. Fall was almost over and winter began to settle in.

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger were sitting along with Fred and George Weasley and Y/n L/n dry and warm in Gryffindor's common room, while the logs were crackling in the fireplace.

It was an uneventful day, but the golden trio was quite thankful for that. Getting close to dying wasn't the highlight of their year.

"So Ron, would you rather" Harry started, taking a bite of the red licorice in his hands "swim in a pool filled with sweat or in a pool filled with pee?"

"Is it my pee?" Ron asked in thought , sitting back in to the armchair.

"what does it matter?" (Y/n) queried confused "it's still pee" she chuckled in slight disgust. Ron laughed, nodding his head in agreement.

"Pee, I guess. It wouldn't smell as bad as sweat, I think"

"You know, urine though is sterile the moment it comes out of the bladder, it attracts germs like a magnet." Hermione stated "So actually , your best choice would be sweat."

"Right." muttered in annoyance. "Anyway, George, would you rather constantly have to sneeze but it never comes out or have the hiccups that last for four hours per day?"

"Well, I do hate having to sneeze and not being able to" he run his hand through his hair "so, I'll have to have the hiccups for four hours every day!"

George turned his gaze to Y/n. She was sitting at the other end of the sofa. The light of the fire danced on her face, making her look absolutely beautiful. She giggled at something Fred was saying to her before her eyes fell back on him.

" Y/n, would you rather kiss me or let a dementor kiss you?" he asked jokingly, loving the way her smile grew on her face, behind the mug she was holding.

"mmmh" she placed the mug on the small table in front of them, after taking a sip of her tea. "I'll choose the dementor, for sure! I'll smooch that thing real good" she laughed at George's 'fake' hurt reaction.

"But you'll die" he said in disbelief.

"That's fine" she shrugged her shoulders "I'm ready, I had a good run!"

"So.. You'd rather die than kiss me.." George concluded, trying to clarify what she was actually saying, ignoring the laughing of his brothers and friends. But her smile and the slight blush of her cheeks was saying something else, George could only read it as embarrassment.

But George was blind, as was Y/n.

"Yes, exactly." she said in affirmation while she couldn't control her laughter. Besides being kinda hurt by her rejection, George was so proud of himself for making her laugh. He always was.

"You're so stupid" he joked, throwing a handful of jelly beans her.

"Okay. So, Freddie, would you rather..."she started, chewing on a jelly bean that had landed on her sweater.

Y/n was sitting on the couch, doing her herbology homework. The sweater with her initial Molly Weasley had made for her kept her warm from the chill that sipped through the stone walls of the castle, as winter was officially here.

The common room was fairly empty, only a few students were there, most of them were doing their homework in the library.

Y/n preferred doing her homework in the common room, cause she enjoyed the calm and quite of the room during study hours.

But the calm and quiet were ruined by two identical gingers, when they walked through the open painting door into the room, joking among themselves.

"L/n" Fred called her name, as he sat beside her on the couch.

"Are you finished with Snape's homework?" George asked, leaning over the couch, by her shoulder.

"Yes, I am" she said, not paying them much attention, she knew their antics oh-too well.

"Can we take a look?" Fred asked nudging her shoulder.

"and why do you want to take a look, boys?" Y/n raised an accusing eyebrow, a knowing smirk on her pink lips.

"To check if your answers are correct." George answered matter-of-factly. Always the diplomat between the two. "Of course"

"And here I thought you wanted to copy of me" she closed her herbology book.

"What?" the twins said in unison, in fake shock. "We would never!"

"I'm so sorry, I misjudged you guys" she apologized, trying to keep from laughing "please, be my guest" she gestured at the dark red notebook that was sitting on the table.

"It's fine. Just don't let it happen again." Fred sighed in exasperation, grabbing her notebook.

"You guys are dorks, you know that right?" she laughed.

"But you love us!" Fred gave her a kiss on the side of her head, before flipping through the pages of her notes.

"That I do" she admitted softly , turning to look at George over her shoulder, but he was already looking at her with a sweet smile.

She patted the seat next to her, before helping him with his potions homework.

Christmas was in a few days and most of the students were getting ready to go home for the holidays.

Y/n rushed from the outer grounds to the hallways, trying to get away from the cold and the snow as soon as possible, when she walked into George.

"Hey, I was just looking for you" he said happy to see her, he was holding a letter, probably heading to the west tower.

"How can I help you?" she asked, looking up at him as he was significantly taller. She noticed his blue eyes were brighter today, if that was truly possible.

"Are you still coming to the Burrow for Christmas?"

"Does the invitation still stand?"

"Of course it does!" he assured her "we'd love to have you. We always do"

She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. She had snowflakes stuck in her hair, the white scenery behind her made her look angelic. He was at a loss for words.

"Then I'll be there!" she said, thankfully breaking him from his daze.

"Great!" it was his turn to grace her with his smile, they stood for a few seconds staring at each other.

"well, I should go and start packing" she muttered, pointing to the direction she was to head to.

"And I should go send this to my parents" he said gesturing to the small envelop in his hand. "I'll see you later, then." he waved, watching her walk away. He really wanted that girl to be his.

A million thoughts were running in his head, when he grabbed his wand from his back pocket. He whispered the small charm, watching a mistletoe bloom above Y/n's head.

" Uh, Y/n?!" the girl turned to the sound of her name, to see George pointing to the ceiling. She raised an eyebrow, amused.

"would you look at that!" she buried her hands in her warm pockets. "I'm pretty sure this wasn't here a second ago." she said, staring at him with a smile.

"And it's just us two." George stated, looking around, searching for any students. "So I guess I have to kiss you" he said, stepping closer to the girl.

"George, if you wanted to kiss me, you should have just asked" she looked up at him once again, as he stood under the mistletoe with her.

"I couldn't just leave you hear alone now, could I?"

"You don't have to do it. I'm pretty sure I can find a dementor around here, maybe I can get Harry, they seem to really lik-" she was cut off by George cupping her cheeks and kissing her. She froze for a moment.

Her hands ran up his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him back just as softly as he was. He was holding her as if she was made of the finest China, as if the slightest pressure would break her.

She was warm underneath his fingertips, a nice contrast to the freezing cold around them. They pulled away after a moment, only slightly, their foreheads against each other's.

"You know" she breathed "I'd still take the dementor"

"You are unbelievable!" he laughed, pulling away from her, before she grabbed his scarf and pulled him in for another kiss.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #george weasley #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x muggle!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x reader #fred weasley #Harry Potter #draco malfoy #ron weasley #hermione granger #hogwarts #My writing

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1tarot1with1k1o · 2 years

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HELP, I'M HERE WITH MORE SONGS

🌾 Waltz of the snowflakes

🌾 Champagne Supernova - Oasis

🌾 Romance - My chemical Romance

🌾Summertime - My chemical Romance

Omg I don’t know why I didn’t see this 🥴 I’m so sorry!!!

waltz of the snowflakes:

It reminds me of Christmas day. Waking up and seeing snow falling, kids laughing while chasing each other, while engaging in snowball fights. Going out to a friend’s house to celebrate together with your families and loved ones. Going back home, and seeing people still eating and laughing together through the windows of the houses you pass by, on the ride home, after the long and tiring, but just as memorable, day you spent. Then going downstairs in your pjs, and playing board games with the family. Managing to win round after round and having lighthearted discussions with your siblings, because they accuse you of cheating; replying by saying you can’t help it if you’re better than them at games. Ending the day while watching a movie with them, while cozily settled on a very soft couch, and falling asleep peacefully, having beautiful dreams.

champagne supernova:

Living your life. Being free, and doing whatever you want. I see someone riding a convertible car in the desert, going full speed and enjoying every second of it; the hair getting messed up by the wind, hands in the air, and not a care in the world. Feeling that you’re going home, and you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing. Being genuinely happy.

romance:

Italian m@fia movie vibes. A city in the countryside of south Italy, ruined by corruption, and eerie events constantly happening in it. People disappearing out of nowhere, and the other habitants keep pretending they have no idea about what could have happened to them; but actually knowing very well...Secretly mourning those they lost in such an unfair way.

summertime:

Finally graduating, and getting out of school on the last day. The sun starting to settle down. Not realizing that the time is going by, because you’re too busy laughing with friends, reminiscing of all the hilarious memories you have made during the past years together. Deciding to go to arcades or fun fairs all together, one more time. Eating cotton candy and street food until your stomach hurts, but being too happy to care. Going to the beach, and sitting on the pier, winding down, looking at the ocean, and being lost in thought. Everyone is silent, their minds are likely roaming with questions about the future. What will happen to the friendship? Where will you all be in a few years? What will be your next step? But regardless, you can feel all the stress leaving your body right at that moment. All that matters is that you’re there in that exact moment. You don’t need anything else right now. You know that this day will forever be a core memory of yours.

It’s always so fun to do this! I feel like I’m allowed to get lost in the song, and try to understand how it’s truly making me feel. Sometimes I tend to overlook that aspect. So bless you for having this idea. I really love it. Thank you so much!!

#klo #crucifiedbymypriestess #music through my eyes #thank you again!!

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lnkedmyheart · 2 years

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Can we just acknowledge that watching superhero movies has become exhausting? It's not fun anymore because it's constantly one franchise vs another. You're not allowed to like, enjoy or relate to something. You are called ableist slurs for liking things, you can never ever get queer or racial rep without being accused of being a snowflake because all your "introduce new characters instead" arguments get drowned out because movies never take on the non cis het white versions of characters from the comics. The fanwars and hate bandwagons actively ruin movies that you haven't even seen yet and movie fans constantly overwhelm any discussions about comic versions for fans of the comics. It's always comics vs movies, and dc vs marvel vs sony. It's stressful and its the reason I had a minor breakdown and had completely distanced myself from super hero movies for so long after the way I would get called a re*ard for liking tasm (something I related to because I'm also neurotic) especially considering I was already suffering from anxiety and all these adult grown ass dude bros actually used that insult against me when I was just a kid.

Watching movies shouldn't be this stressful. It's a fucking comic book movie about people in spandex with weirdly homoerotic bonds with friends and enemies all while flexing their asses and shit. It's not that deep.

It's 2022 guys, you don't have to be the edgelords from 2014.

#marvel #sony #dcu #im tired please #i really love super hero movies but at this point I can't go a day without seeing fans flinging slurs at each other #seriously what little hype i had for more movies after nwh has fizzled out to almost nothing #and it has nothing to do with bad movies and everything to do with bandwagon hatred and obnoxious superiority complexes

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wingsofbrassandfire · 2 years

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I hate that there's so few ways to talk about this wutiuur sounding like the beginning of a manifesto, but I am queer, I am trans, I am ace, and I fuck. I fuck partners, I fuck friends. I fuck singly or together. On very very rare occasions I've fucked for show. I've never fucked a stranger but in college I once went to bed with someone I'd met just a few days before and left hickies on me so deep they took multiple weeks to fade.

I am queer, I am trans, and I fuck. I fuck in bed, in tents, in the shower (didn't like it all that much - the angles were weird and I was constantly afraid of slipping or getting water up my nose), in cars, once out in the woods after we took an unexpected nap under the pines, and I think twice in front of a camera. There's no other experience quite the same as being stripped to the waist with your pants down to your knees and your boots sunk 2 inches deep into fresh drifts and unable to tell if the moisture on your skin is yours, your partners, or snowflakes melted from the intensity of body heat.

I am queer, I am trans, I am ace, and I fuck. I fuck with grinding hips against hips and bellies and thighs and genitals. I fuck with lips and tongues and fingers and teeth and toys. I fuck underneath and I fuck above, face to face or otherwise, side by side, standing, sitting, kneeling, quietly, gasping and moaning, breathing hard. I've been told I'm bad at being loud. I think that's probably okay.

I am queer, I am trans, I am ace, and I fuck. I fuck clumsily and full of self-consciousness. There's a disconnect I don't understand between my brain and my body, and when one is engaged it completely subsumes the other. I've created moods that I didn't intend to and I've killed moods that I wanted to spark because finding a balance point that works is something I struggle with. Traumas have changed the way my body and mind react to the circumstances I'm in, and so have hormones. Everything, literally everything, about fucking is difficult or overwhelming but oh it is so satisfying to connect with someone you care about with an intimacy that is meaningful to them so it's often worth at least trying. I know I'm in good hands these days. There won't be accusations or shaming or violence in the times when things don't work out.

I am queer, I am trans, I am ace, and I fuck. I don't make love, because how do you make love out of an act that is love? Identities are messy. Experiences are even messier. And isn't getting messy and learning and laughing and loving what life is all about?

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rxsilixnce · 4 years

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I have some really profound analyzations I want to share of the masterpiece “Jennifer’s Body” after watching it so many times over the last couple years. Too bad Transformers fucked Megan Fox over because she doesn’t get the rep she deserves, she is such a talented actress and she’s been so overlooked.

Jennifer and Needy have an intensely strong connection with one another, yet Needy doesn’t fully understand Jennifer until the end of the movie. They both have lots of intuition and they can sense what the other is planning or doing. Needy doesn’t have to tell Jennifer who she likes, Jennifer already knows, and when Jennifer shows up at her house, Needy knows its her. They have said “Hopeless” at the exact same time, when Needy and Chip were having sex, and when Jennifer was murdering Collin. At prom, the feeling on her lips was Jennifer kissing Chip. Needy knows exactly where to go in order to save Chip. Their connection is almost supernatural. They look at each other like they are in some sort of a trance, especially Jennifer, she adores Needy, especially when Needy watched her cheer from the bleachers and how Jennifer waves at her, and how she tucks Needy’s hair behind her ear and admires her before kissing her. When Jennifer says “We can play boyfriend, girlfriend like we used to,” it reveals that they may have been with each other sexually before, and it also shows Jennifers desperation to always have Needy by her side and her attraction towards her. Jennifer is quickly dismissive over Needy’s concerns, yet Needy still comes to the right conclusions. When Needy begged her not to get in the van with the band, Jennifer told her to “Shut up,” when Needy kept asking her what happened the night of the fire and what happened when Jennifer showed up at her house covered in blood, Jennifer kept acting as if it wasn’t a big deal. After Jennifer opened up about the night some, Needy figures out, “Maybe you did die that night.” After Needy asks what she needs to do to “stay full,” Jennifer dismisses her yet again says, “You know Needy, maybe you should talk to someone about these disturbing thoughts that you’re having,” and “I think Chip may be having second thoughts about you.” This is an attempt to force Needy into feeling insecure and protect herself from Needy knowing the full truth, but Needy connects the dots on what Jennifer means, as the next day at school she imagines Jennifer with blood running down her face. Jennifer seems to know exactly how to manipulate Needy, until the end of the movie...

In the film, Jennifer continuously says the word “hopeless,” more importantly, she says, “I need you hopeless.” Now, we know that Anita (Amanda Seyfried) was nicknamed “Needy” by Jennifer, and I believe Jennifer and Needy had a codependent relationship, majorly initiated by Jennifer because she wants Needy to be reliant on her and “hopeless” without her. The word “hopeless” is also written in blood on the wall in the pool scene. You see this constantly throughout the movie, Needy listens to demands from Jennifer, Jennifer is the leader, the alpha. Needy is starstruck in the beginning as she watches Jennifer cheer. “People find it hard to believe that a babe like Jennifer would associate with a dork like me.” Needy immediately changes plans with her boyfriend after Jennifer guilts her into going out, “You and me are going out tonight.” After an attempt to tell her she already has plans, Jennifer says “Boo, crossing out Needy,” “Wear something cute, okay?” Jennifer makes Needy scared to loose her and doesn’t take no for an answer, and Needy does whatever she says in return. Jennifer criticizes Needy and especially her boyfriend, “It smells like Thai food in here, have you guys been fucking?” “You’re totally jealous.” Needy and her associations will always be lower than Jennifers, making Needy feel like she is owned by Jennifer. Jennifer schedules Needy’s life and tells her what to do, she can’t even call her boyfriend without Jennifer saying, “Crossing you out” to insight fear into Needy. Jennifer kills Needy’s boyfriend Chip, and others who may be a threat for coming too close to Needy, she is angered by Amet, Jonas, and Collin for gaining attention from Needy. Jennifer needs Needy to be her ultimate, the only power figure in her life, and she eliminates anyone who could take that away from her. When a guy is talking to Needy at the bar, Jennifer talks down to him, walks over and grabs him, showing him that Needy is her property. “Are you gonna cuff me?”

However, when we are taken to the flashbacks of their childhood together, because “Sandbox love never dies,” Needy is actually the more protective one and has much more confidence than Jennifer, “Don’t tell my mom, she’ll give me a shot.” Jennifer is weak and insecure yet puts on a facade of being the superficial popular girl. We know this because we see Jennifer’s weak side time and time again throughout the film. For example, before she is killed she shows genuine fear and humanity, when she is in the van with the men who killed her, she tries hard to convince them that she isn’t the person they want to kill, because she thought they didn’t want a virgin. As she is stabbed, she is screaming and crying, begging them not to kill her. She appears to be fierce and indestructible, but she’s really sensitive and she is the one who needs Needy, she relies on Needy to depend on her. Needy appears to be an empath and she is also secure in herself, and she cares for Jennifer deeply, when Jennifer continues to watch the band when the fire starts, Needy pulls her out of the bar, and begs her not to get into the van with the band, as she fears for Jennifers safety. “I watched her get into that van and I knew something awful was going to happen.” Jennifer is clearly easily manipulated and gullible, as it doesn’t take much to convince her to get into a van with men she hardly knows. Jennifer cares about Needy somewhat, but she mainly cares for herself and her own needs, therefore, has taken away anyone who would give Needy happiness other than herself, and showed no remorse for anyone she has killed or the innocent people who died in the bar that burned down. Jennifer is a coward, and she doesn’t want anyone to know about the relationship she wants to have with needy, “Don’t talk to yourself, that’s one of your more freakish behaviors, and it makes us both look like total gaylords.” She preys on Jonas when he is weaker and devastated about loosing his best friend in the fire, because he will be easier to manipulate. “It’s what Craig would have wanted.” After killing/dominating Jonas, she feels stronger than she did before, and she takes pride in hurting other people, because it makes her feel powerful. She calls Needy and tells her “I’m having the like the best day since Jesus invented the calendar.” She gets insecure when Needy answers the other line, “Don’t blow me off? Boo, i’m crossing you out.” “I am a god,” she declares to Needy after Needy and Chip decide to go out together. When Needy arrives to rescue Chip, she accuses Jennifer of being insecure, Jennifer gets defensive and says, “I am not insecure, Needy. God, that’s a joke, how could I ever be insecure? I was the snowflake queen.” Needy continues criticizing her, “You were two years ago, when you didn’t have to take laxatives to stay skinny,” at which point she is so angered at Needy and screams, “I am going, to eat your soul, and shit it out!” Although, Jennifer didn’t, because she couldn’t, she could have demolished both Needy and Chip with the amount of demonic powers she has, but she chose not to.

Another reason why Jennifer is so territorial over Needy is because Jennifer has a strong hatred for men, and sees them as toys to play with. While she views needy as the only person she has a connection with, and she really sees Needy as higher than herself for that reason. She could never hurt or kill Needy, and doesn’t appear to want to kill any other girl, because she views women as more valuable than men. She see’s men as so worthless, that she can kill them with no remorse. After Needy says, “You’re killing people!” she replies with “No, i’m killing boys...” insinuating that its no big deal. She also says “Boys are just placeholders, they come and go.” When Jennifer shows up at Needy’s house after being killed and raids the food in the fridge, Jennifer pushes her against a wall and asks, “Are you scared?” after Needy says yes, she gets close to Needy’s neck and we think she is going to bite her, but Jennifer pushes her temptations away and throws her across the room and leaves to protect Needy from herself, because she can’t bare the pain of hurting Needy. Jennifer grabs Needy’s boobs in the bar and encouraged her to use her body to get what she wants, which today is a clear portrayal of empowerment for some modern day feminists. After Collins is practically drooling over Needy in the hallway, Jennifer steps in and asks him to ask her out, she rejects him and explains to Needy, “He listens to maget-rock and he wears black nail polish, my dick is bigger than his.” After seeing how much Collins means to Needy, she accepts his offer to not only make Needy more dependent on her, but to gain the trust of the boys and lure them in to eliminate them. This makes Needy feel invalidated and Jennifer convinces her that nice things won’t come her way unless Jennifer is the top dog. This is confirmed when Jennifer says that she can have one of the lower band mates, but not the top one, because he is hers, and when she says how Chip has been looking really cute to her recently after needy blows her off to do something with him. The reason she is so sexist is simply because she has always seen men as a threat that would take away the only person she can be emotionally dependent on.

Again, Jennifer could never hurt Needy, and Needy goes after Jennifer later to kill her in order to protect other boys from getting killed, Needy knows this is what she has to do, she now sees Jennifer accurately and she realizes the horrible person Jennifer is, though, this is exactly was Jennifer wanted, she needed Needy so badly so that ultimately, she would kill her. In the beginning, it was not like this, but after becoming a succubus, and feeling “empty” so much and being forced to kill to keep herself alive and powerful, Jennifer had enough. The moment Jennifer made the decision to go after Chip, she made the decision to let Needy go, because after facing so much rejection from Needy, and the charm she once had on her faded completely, Jennifer was more insecure and heartbroken than ever, she didn’t want to live if she couldn’t have Needy, and she knew that if Needy felt betrayed enough, she would kill her. She also couldn’t hurt Needy since she is in love with her, making Needy the only person that could kill her. Jennifer could have went on a rampage and killed anyone she wanted to after Chip’s attack to make herself strong and beautiful again, but she chose to go home hungry and weak and wait for Needy to come murder her. Jennifer pretends to fight Needy, and give her all into hurting her, but keep in mind she has to make Needy feel strong and brave enough to kill her, so she criticizes her and continues to act like the villain, “Do you buy all you’re murder weapons at Home Depot? God you’re butch.” We then see Needy say “I’m crossing you out,” the line Jennifer used for so long to have power over Needy, the power exchange is exactly what Jennifer wants. Needy rips their BFF necklace off Jennifers neck and we are shown an emotional moment of it falling to the floor, this symbolizes the end of their friendship, relationship, and codependency. Jennifer’s plan has been a success as she see’s Needy will be okay without her, and she knows their relationship is over, she lets everything down and allows Needy to kill her. After Needy stabs her in the chest, Jennifer says, “My tit,” and Needy says “No, your heart.” However, Needy was not okay without Jennifer, in fact, Jennifer destroyed her, “I don’t know who Needy Lesnicki is anymore,” she says as she is shown in a jail/mental hospital. We are shown that she will become a succubus herself after Jennifer bit her, which is what Jennifer wanted, and yet again, we are shown how selfish Jennifer was, she wanted Needy to become what she hated most. “You just might absorb some of the demons abilities, and you just might get lucky for once in your miserable life.”

Jennifer is truly not like any other “classic mean girl” portrayed in Hollywood movies, and it’s so sad to me that Jennifer’s Body received bad ratings since I feel Jennifer and Needy are such complex characters with an interesting relationship. Needy may not even be bisexual like Jennifer, she may have just been so enticed and manipulated by Jennifer and looked up to her in ways of wanting to be like her. This would explain why Needy was so bothered by Jennifer kissing her, because she really just saw Jennifer as a mentor, and why wouldn’t she? She had to be jealous of Jennifer, she had to want certain qualities Jennifer possessed, she watched so many boys leave her for Jennifer. And in the end, Needy became Jennifer.

#jennifers body #megan fox #amanda seyfried #horror #movie #dailyhorrorfilms #movie reviews #lesbian #needy lesnicki #jennifer check #hidden message #jennifer's body icon icons 00s

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quakerjoe · 5 years

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"Why are people so hostile towards President Donald Trump?"

Chris O'Leary:

Before you pass my answer off as “Another Liberal Snowflake” consider that 1.) I'm an independent centrist who has voted Republican way more often in my life than Democrat, and 2.) If you want to call someone who spent the entire decade of his 20’s serving in the Marine Corps a snowflake, I’d be ready to answer the question what did you do with your 20’s?

Why Liberals (And not-so liberals) are against President Trump.

A.) He lies. A LOT. Politifact rates 69% of the words he speaks as “Mostly False or worse” Only 17% of the things he says get a “Mostly True” or better rating. That is an absolutely unbelievable number. How he doesn’t speak more truth by mistake is beyond me. To put it in context, Obama’s rating was 26% mostly false or worse, and I had a problem with that. Many of Trump’s former business associates report that he has always been a compulsive liar, but now he’s the President of the United States, and that’s a problem. And this is a man who expects you to believe him when he points at other people and says “They’re lying”

B.) He’s an authoritarian populist, not a conservative. He advances regressive social policy while proposing to expand federal spending and federalist authority over states, both of which conservatives are supposed to hate.

C.) He pretends at Christianity to court the Religious Right but fails to live anything resembling a Christ-Like Life.

D.) His nationalist “America First” message effectively alienates us and removes us from our place as leaders in the international community.

E.) His ideas on “Keeping us safe” are all thinly veiled ideas to remove our freedoms, he is, after all, an authoritarian first. They also are simply bad ideas.

F.) He couldn’t pass a 3rd-grade civics exam. He doesn't’ know what he’s doing. He doesn't understand how international relations work, he doesn’t understand how federal state or local governments work, and every time someone tries to “Run it like a business” it’s a spectacular failure. See Colorado Springs’ recent history as an example. The Short, Unhappy Life of a Libertarian Paradise And that was a businessman with a MUCH better business track record than Trump. We are talking about a man who lost money owning a freaking gambling casino.

G.) He behaves unethicaly and always has. As a businessman, he constantly left in his wake unpaid contractors and invoices, litigation, broken promises, whatever he could get away with.

H.) He is damaging our relationships with our best international friends while kissing up to nations that do not have our best interests in mind. To his question “Wouldn't’ it be great to have better relations with Russia?” The answer is Yes. But it is RUSSIA who needs to earn that, who must stop doing the things that are damaging to that relationship, or we are simply weaker for it.

I.) He has never seen a shortcut he didn't like, and you can’t take shortcuts in government. “Nuclear Option, Remove the Filibuster, I’ll change the Constitution by Executive Order…Don…what happens when you remove the filibuster and the other side retakes the majority in the Senate? Suddenly want that filibuster back? What happens if you manage to change the Constitution by Executive Order and an Anti-2A President wins the next election?

J.) He behaves and has always behaved as an unabashed racist. Yes, I’ve seen your favorite meme that claims he was never accused of racism before the Democrats…Absolutely false. Donald Trump’s long history of racism, from the 1970s to 2019 See the Central Park 5, the lawsuits and fines resulting from his refusal to lease to black tenants, the 1992 lost appeal trying to overturn penalties for removing black dealers from tables, his remarks to the house native American affairs subcommittee in 1993. The man sees and treats racial groups of people as monoliths.

K.) He is systematically steamrolling regulations specifically designed to keep a disaster like the 2007 subprime mortgage crisis from happening again.

L.) He speaks and acts like a demagogue. He sees the Legislative and Judicial branches of government as inconveniences, blows up at criticism no matter how deserved and actively tries to countermand constitutional processes, not to mention attempts to blackmail and coerce people who are saying negative things about him

M.) His choices for top positions, with the exception of Gen. Mattis, who is a gem, have been horrendous. A secretary of Education without a resume that would get her hired as a small town grammar school principal, A secretary of Energy who didn't know the Department of Energy was responsible for nuclear reserves, an EPA head whose biggest accomplishments to date had been suing the EPA on multiple occasions, an FCC head who while working for Verizon actively lobbied to kill net neutrality, and an Attorney General who thinks pot is “nearly as bad as heroin” and asked Congress for permission to go after legal pot businesses in states where it is legal. (There goes that great Republican States rights rally cry again, right? *Crickets*) An Interim AG after Firing his First AG who’s appointment is probably unconstitutional.

N.) He denies scientific fact. Ever notice that the only people you hear denying climate change are politicians and lobbyists? 99% of actual scientists studying the issue agree that it’s real, man-made and caused by greenhouse gasses. Ever notice that every big disaster movie starts with a bunch of politicians in a room ignoring a scientist's warning?

0.) He does not have the temperament to lead this nation. He is Thin Skinned, childish, and a bully, never mind misogynistic, boorish, rude, and incapable of civil discourse.

P.) He still does not understand that the words he speaks, or tweets, are the official position of 1/3 of the US government, and so does not govern his words. He still thinks when he speaks it’s good ol’ Donald Trump. It’s not. It’s the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. You have probably spread a meme or two around talking about how no president’s every word has ever been dissected before…YES, THEY ALWAYS HAVE. It’s just that every other president in our lifetime has understood the importance of his words and took great care to govern his speech. Trump blurts out whatever comes to his mind then complains when people talk about what a dumb thing that was to say.

Q.) He’s unqualified. If you owned a small business and were looking for someone to manage it, and an unnamed resume came across your desk and you saw 6 bankruptcies, showing a man who had failed to make money running CASINOS, would you hire him? He is a very poor businessman. This is a man it has been estimated would have been worth $10 BILLION more if he’d just taken what his father had given him, invested it in Index Funds and left it alone.

R.) He is President. But he refuses to take a leadership position and understand that he is everyone’s President. Conservatives complain about liberals chanting “Not my President” while Trump himself behaves as if no one but his supporters matter.

S.) He’s a blatant hypocrite. He spent 8 years bitching Obama out for his family trips, or golfing, or any time he took for himself, and what does he do? He was already on his 20th golf outing in APRIL of his 1st year in office. He constantly rants about respect for the military, yet can’t be bothered to attend the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day because of a little rain. (And that excuse about Marine One not being able to fly in the rain is HILARIOUS.)

T.) He’s a misogynist. It's not really ok in this day and age to be a misogynist, but it’s not a huge deal if you’re a private citizen. It’s a pretty big deal if you hate half the people you’re elected to lead. The disdain for women seeps out of his …whatever…. and he just can’t hide it.

U.) Face it. In any other election “Grab Em’ By the Pussy” would have been the end of that candidate’s chances. Back in the 90’s I used to marvel about how Teflon Bill Clinton was. I no longer do. The fact that he managed to slip by on that is as much a statement about how much people hate Hillary Clinton as it is about what is wrong with politics in this country right now.

V.) He has one response to a differing opinion. Attack. A good leader listens to criticism, to different points of view, is capable of self-reflection, tries to guide people to his point of view, and when necessary stands his ground and defends his convictions. Any of that sound like Trump? His default is not to Lead, its’ to attack. Scorched Earth. The Jim Acosta reaction is a good example. There was no defense of his convictions when Acosta was asking him repeated questions about his rhetoric on the caravan. His response was to attack Acosta.

W.) He takes credit for everything positive while deflecting blame for everything negative. Look at him with the Stock Market. He’s been bragging about it since day one, and to give credit where credit is due, speculation on coming deregulation early in his presidency did fuel some rapid growth, but to pretend that it’s all him, that we’re not in the 9th year of the longest bull market in history and THEN, when the standard market volatility that deregulation inevitably brings about starts to show up? Yeah. Look at yesterday. Hey! Stock Markets losing because the Democrats won! Do I need to bring out the Stock market chart for the last 10 Years again?

X.) He emboldens the worst among us. Counter-protesters are slammed into by a car while countering actual Nazi rally, and the response is there’s fault on “Both Sides” The media is at fault for a nut job sending them and Donald’s favorite targets pipe bombs. The truth is not all Republicans, not all Trump Supporters are racist, fascist lunatics. Many are just taken in by the bombastic personality and are living in an information bubble made worse by the fact that they unfollow anyone and ignore any source of information that makes them feel uncomfortable. People on the left do that too. The Biggest problem the right has right now is that the worst of the Right is the loudest and the most in your face, and the actual right, especially the Freaking PRESIDENT needs to be standing up and saying No. Those are not our values.

Y.) He seems to think the Constitution of The United States, the document that IS who we are, the document he took an oath to support and defend is some sort of inconvenience. He demonstrates a complete lack of understanding of Constitution, from believing he can alter the 14th through executive order, to thinking The free exercise clause in the first amendment somehow supersedes the establishment clause (not that he really understands either) or that the free exercise clause only applies to Christians. Or his attacks on freedom of expression and the press. He repeatedly makes it clear that if he’s read them, he does not understand Articles 1–3, and that’s something he really should have before he took the job, because they’re not going away.

Z.) I’ll use Z for something I do blame him for, but the rest of us have to carry the blame too. Polarization. This country is more politically polarized than I can remember in my lifetime. Some of you who are a few years older than I may remember how it was in the late 60’s when construction workers in New York were being applauded for beating up hippies, I think it’s pretty close to that right now, but that was before my time. And he is the cause of much of the current level polarization, but also the result. It didn't’ start with Trump. We’ve been going down this road I think since the eruption of the Tea Party in the early years of the Obama Administration. I do hope the tide turns before it gets much worse because the thing that scares me more than anything is what if that keeps going the way it has been? "

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dragonflymage · 3 years

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I’ve looked at my old diaries fairly often and it usually makes me feel sad nostalgia. I decided to add some excerpts from my teenage diary. I chose 10 pieces I’d written years ago. I was 16.

A picture of the cover and some writing samples:

There was a little dial lock on the side of the cover.

Ranting about school and grades.

One of my many dreams I used to write about.

A bit of background - I went to a strict religious school that made me constantly angry. Parents were divorced. And other home drama went on, but mostly I wrote about school and other daydreamy thoughts.

Now for some diary excerpts:

🌹 1. The snow is still coming down. Swirling and turning with every flake. I wonder if the snowflakes know what's happening. If they know that they are just one out of trillions of flakes in the world. I wonder if any of these flakes falling now have been to England or Moscow or even Japan. The process of the flakes melting then evaporating up into clouds then wind blowing them across oceans then someday stopping over say Sidney Australia and raining on the prairies, turning into little brooks or mighty water-falls. Now that's something to think about. Or maybe these flakes could have been the same flakes that over 2,000 years ago snowed on the night Christ was born in Bethlehem. You never can tell. Because the process keeps going over and over: water, steam, clouds, rain, and everything in between.

🌹 2. The sound of little creatures walking around in the roof. In between the ceiling and the roof, there is a space and little critters live up there by the chimney. They walk around and listen to what goes on in my room. One day they were knawing on some wood and I started reading a book and they were quiet through the whole story for they were listening. When they move, sometimes a very small pebble rolls down the slant in the ceiling and you can hear it. You can also hear their little claws on their feet when they walk. I think they've been here long enough to receive a name. I'll give one name to them all so when I hear a noise I'll say "oh there's -so-an-so." I think the name will be "Arella", which means "Angel messenger". Good enough name, I think. It's a Greek name.

🌹 3. I feel like I'm getting further and further from everyone. Like I'm slowly disappearing, or like I did something. I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel so down and depressed all the time. It's probably because I'm very quickly losing all my friends. There's no one left to be my friend. Maybe I should leave this little school, where everyone knows you, and transfer into a larger one so I can hide among the crowd. That's what I feel like doing!! I want to cry so bad, but I can't. I need someone! Even my stuffed koala bears have someone to hug!

🌹 4. I don't want to go to school tomorrow. But I don't want them to think that I'm hiding or that I'm scared. I mean, I am scared, terrified even, but I don't want them to know; do we now? No! Maybe if they would just leave me alone, everything will be fine. I'm not doing anything wrong at school, just because I didn't pass in a report doesn't mean that I'm rebelling against someone. I haven't hardly been talking to anyone or causing any trouble, so why are they picking on me? huh? I'm just there answering questions, doing math problems on the board, taking notes, taking quizzes. So what the hell is wrong with these people? My God, can't they "leave me alone!?!" Please!

🌹 5. Well, I know what I will do. I will not have any friends, maybe I will talk to them a little. I won't ever act up, I will do all my homework, I will basically become a snob or a nerd or whatever you want to call it. I am not going to do anything that I could get in trouble for. I will go to school, pass all my tests and quizzes, answer all questions correctly, won't talk back, if I am accused of something that I didn't do then I will just take the punishment because somehow they will have to find out the truth.

🌹 6. Tomorrow I am supposed to have some kind of meeting at the school with daddy and the teachers. In the morning sometime. I think that something bad is going to happen. Oh, Great! What I don't understand is why when my brother gets dropped off in the morning why I shouldn't just stay at the school. See, that proves something. They would've had the meeting today but Pastor wasn't in. They couldn't have just planned it today, 'cause I did not cause any trouble whatsoever today. I swear it! If they don't want me to stay at the school in the morning, then that probably means that they've had enough of me, and either I am gonna get suspended or expelled. Whatever I did wrong before must've got them fed up with me, that's for sure.

🌹 7. I'm sitting in my window sill by the light of the street lamp. There is a full moon out, also. I'm still thinking about whether I want to be an astronaut or in the Peace Corps. I remember in about the 5th grade I wanted to be an astronaut. Then in the middle of the 6th, I changed and wanted to be a cop. In the middle of the 7th, I changed back to wanting to be an astronaut. That stayed till about the middle or so of the 8th I wanted to be a doctor. That changed by the end of the 8th back to an astronaut. And a few weeks ago, at the middle of the 10th, I wanted to be someone who helps the less fortunate in other countries, something like the Peace Corps. Now I think that I'm going back to being an astronaut again. I guess that I can not make up my mind can I? Growing up is so hard.

🌹 8. There is so much I want to do but I feel like I am restricted or being prevented to do things, somehow. It's hard to explain. I don't mean literally, that people are holding me back, I mean that my mind wants to explore, to learn, to snatch new ideas, new things. But there isn't anything there for me to grasp. Everything is out of my reach. I can, maybe, brush my fingers against something, but I either fall away from it or it moves further from my reach and sometimes even out of my view. At least I know that the moon will always be there for me. There's so much I want to do. I want to write my stories, but I hardly ever have any time to finish them.

🌹 9. Just look at the moon. She never has to prove herself anymore. She did her job, her important task, that proved that she isn't expendable. She is important to the whole world. She is important for romantic walks, and for poems, and she sets the stage for a story. Artists, poets, songwriters, and story writers for generations have used her beauty. She is the pearl in the night. The eye of midnight. The jewel in the sky. She reflects on a slumbering sea, casting shadows on nearby rocks. She turns the sand to silver and makes them come alive. The gentle waves, persuaded by salty breezes, are painted with glitters of diamonds from the sky.

🌹 10. I'm obviously very expendable. I just wish that I knew whether or not I will make a difference in the world or in the future, so I'm not expendable. So when I mess up or make a mistake, people won't just throw me away or toss me aside. I just want to do something important, something so that when I do goof up once in a while, people will say "Oh, her accomplishments are so much greater and outnumber her weaknesses that we couldn't afford to have her go, or have her replaced." Right now, I have accomplished nothing worth mentioning.

That’s all for now 💗

Thanks for the question. 😊

#infp #infp thoughts #mbti #mbti thoughts #myers-briggs #introvert #hsp #emotions #emotional #sensitivity #mbti infp #diary #memories #childhood #teenager

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donnerpartyofone · 4 years

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A few years ago there was this moment where I got a ton of anonymous messages from some far right asshole about the usual shit--Hillary, the corrosive force of immigration, inherently evil ethnic and religious groups, etc. The messages were weird in that most of them seemed to be copied and pasted out of the middle of some article somewhere, but there was never a source mentioned, and there was never enough information for me to get the whole picture even if I really cared about all this "proof" that black and brown people should be kicked out of Sweden or whatever the point was supposed to be. Some of the messages were actually written by the sender, and they all sounded pretty stereotypically crazy: rude, vague, delirious references to conspiracies, pedophilia, brainwashing, etc on the left, or really just orbiting around Clinton. (This is totally tangential, but to this day I'm convinced that all these reactionary nutbags just want to fuck Hillary Clinton, I mean the enduring, overheated obsession with her has extended so far beyond the the sphere of her electoral campaign or any threat of her achieving greater power that there has to be a reason these freaks keep bringing her up, bringing up the fevered vision of a woman dominating them along with the entire country, a compelling reason, perhaps a BIOLOGICAL reason) I'm still embarrassed about this, but I engaged with this person, posting their inane drivel to try to vivisect it, to explain why it was so stupid and ineffectual. I wasn't that worried about giving them a platform, since the messaging was so primitive and hard to understand if you weren't already on his side, but that was exactly my point: When you make yourself sound like an escaped lunatic in a doomsday sandwich board sign, who is supposed to take anything you say seriously? How could it have any effect besides undermining whatever you're trying to support? That effect, and the strengthening of convictions held by lefties like me, who would naturally like to be as opposite of your raving inarticulate ass as possible? And besides all that, my blog had a pretty apolitical appearance at the time, so why was anon assuming I was this passionate Clinton shill? I mean, fuck him and his bigoted garbage, OF COURSE, but I couldn't figure out how he had targeted me personally for this treatment.

The point that I wish I had gotten then was, it didn't matter. It might have been the result of one of those things you hear about from time to time, about how supposedly a bunch of mean jerks from 4chan (or whatever the current iteration is) are going to conduct a "raid" on Tumblr, like they're going to seek and destroy liberal snowflakes and precious cinnamon rolls with their, uh...incredible verbal prowess I guess. Surely the point was just to get me all riled up so someone could say that they pwned me, although I don't know what the reward of this pwning was supposed to be besides the "made you look!" thrill of tricking me into talking to or about them. I'll never understand the perspective of the kind of person who thinks that you "win" something when someone blocks you online, as if blocking isn't just a way of saying "You are literally worthless." It's interesting how that line of troll thinking works, it seems to suggest something like, "Ah, you should have KNOWN that I was nothing but an insignificant piece of shit with nothing to say, but you treated me like I was worth talking to, so therefore I WIN!" I strongly suspect that all of troll culture (I mean, not LEGIT trolls who bait you with patently stupid decoy ideas, but these little garbage people who bait you with their real actual opinions) is predicated on an urge to masochism, that this kind of person is always a spineless perverted weakling who craves insults and punishment, who feels in their very bones that they deserve the worst, who is at all times secretly drooling to slurp on the delicious bootheel of Hillary Clinton, long after her rally balloons have been found deflated and dangling from the network of powerlines crisscrossing the Real America...

But that reminds me of another self-loathing lunatic of my acquaintance, my ex-boyfriend. Yes, really, but I swear to god this is going somewhere. He was an intelligent guy, a lit major who had graduated with honors from a reputable liberal arts school, an editor at a respected arts & culture publishing house who fancied himself a progressive thinker who stood up for the freedoms of others--and who, I slowly found out, used his enthusiasm for Obama and The Daily Show to mask the noxious brew of casual racism and virulent misogyny that made up his fuel for living. When we were dating, I thought that we had problems, and I thought dealing with problems was a normal part of adult relationships; I thought the opposite of constantly struggling for peace, honesty, and respect was "expecting life to be like a fairy tale", which I certainly did not want to be accused of. So I didn't get what was going on when he would choose some arbitrary trigger for an abusive episode, and I would try, and fail, to resolve whatever was bothering him. I bought in to the idea that we were both intelligent people with respect for one another's intelligence, and that it was possible for us to get at the heart of any trouble through calm and rational discussion. He often gave me plenty of breadcrumbs to follow, indicating that there were REASONS that he was angry with me, which led me to believe I could fix everything by clearing up misunderstandings, since I had never conspired to do anything to him but try to love him. (Although sometimes he wouldn't even tell me what I had supposedly done, intoning "You're a clever girl, you'll figure it out" in a sneering Joan Crawfordesque voice--I should have known then that he didn't need or even want a good reason to attack me) But, his debate style, if I can call it that, involved screaming, changing the subject, repeating whatever I said back to me in a "r*tard voice", impugning my character (or that of my family and friends) in ways that had nothing to do with the argument, and other tactics that ensured that his opportunity to hurt and terrorize me lasted for hours or days. I missed the fact that for him, the fight wasn't a resolvable interruption of our relationship, it was the entire point of the relationship.

The most brilliant thing he'd ever done--though I don't want to call it that, since this has more to do with base instincts than brains--was to use my intelligence against me. If I had placed more importance on my own feelings than I did on "being fair" and "making sense" of our conflicts, then I would have escaped before I had to develop this whole behavioral theory that I am delivering to you now. By producing "reasons" for his anger, he made me think there was a debate to be had, and that the person with the superior logic would win out. I was convinced that would be me, since I knew the Truth, and he was just confused by his inner demons (drugs and alcohol, his shitty friends who "made him" do bad things, his supposed trauma from the last relationship he deliberately destroyed, his inferior parents who made him look bad by being "visionless ant people", and whatever other excuses he surfaced whenever it benefited him to play the tragically injured good guy). What I know now is, all abuse is the same, and it doesn't need or want to justify itself. Its only aim is the free reign of violence. It has no interest in truth or justice of even the most deformed variety. Its goal is to give unfiltered vent to all forms of hatred. The fact that it disguises itself with a mask of rationality, made up of straw men, false equivalences, dubiously construed "facts" arranged into artificial patterns, and other distractingly logical-looking tactics, does not mean that what is inside operates on, or is vulnerable to, actual logic. It's all just id monster shit. Do not interact.

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

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heart of stone (3/?)

AO3

It’s an hour before Damian leaves. An hour of him hugging her and stroking her hair and her telling him everything she can. They try to spend some time normally, watching vine compilations on Janis’ phone, only it doesn’t feel right. Their laughter is forced and accompanied by a pit in Janis’ stomach, the hard reality staring them in the face. After one video she puts her phone away and Damian holds her tighter, resting his cheek on her head and lacing their fingers together. She lets herself sag against him, revelling in the comfort he gives her even if it can’t make this better. She bites the inside of her cheek as she wonders when the next time they hug like this will be or where they’ll be when it happens.

It’s going to be a long few months.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asks him as they stand at her front door. “With all this?” When his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, that’s when she truly feels the weight of it and it drags her down hard. She’s only seen that expression on his face a grand total of three times, two of which related to unpleasant memories of his father. And now once more, because of her. She bites back an apology.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he replies half-heartedly before shaking his head. “Who am I kidding? Of course you’re going to be okay. You’re Janis.”

“I am?” she replies, smirking just a little.

“Yeah.” The crack in his voice doesn’t escape her notice. He play-punches her arm. “This cancer’s going to have a tough time trying to beat you.”

“If God wants me gone he’s going to have to come down here himself,” she jokes. Only it doesn’t land with him. His eyes widen, his hand around her wrist in a grip that’s sudden and panicked. It’s an old joke spoken in a new world and she realises that too late. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t-” She grabs his tense shoulder, unsure of what else to do, and tries to be as reassuring as possible. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay, they’ve said I will.”

“I know.” He hugs her once again, crushing her in her grip and stroking her hair, his heartbeat fast against her chest. She wraps her arms around him, cursing at herself.

“Maybe the dark humour will take a backseat for now,” she whispers. He laughs at that at least, even if it’s short lived. He steps away from her just as his mom pulls up outside of her house, beeping her little car horn.

“My mom,” he says, looking from the car to her. “When do I tell her?”

“Whenever you want,” she replies, shrugging. “Not like we’re keeping it a secret.”

“Okay.” He pats her cheek clumsily as she opens the door. Before leaving, he takes one long look back at her, sadness clouding his eyes. She doesn’t let him know that she hates it. “You owe me a calzone when this is all over, Sarkisian.”

“It’s a date,” she jokes, her breath catching in her throat. Through the window in the door, she watches him run across the road, holding up shirt up over his head as the sky starts spitting, and climb into the passenger seat of his mom’s car. Her vision blurs as the car pulls away, her cheeks hot and her jaw clenched.

She doesn’t bother to hide it when she walks into the kitchen. She’s too tired and even if she wasn’t, what’s the point in it?

“Oh, sweetie,” her mom sighs, rushing up to her and pushing her hair out of her eyes. She rubs a hand up and down her arm, her lips rolled into a thin line. “How did he take it?”

“Fine,” she says. “I mean, not fine. But he’s… It’s a lot for him. But he didn’t storm out of the house or accuse me of lying or something messed up like that so I guess…” She trails off, the sentence running away from her. Is there a good way to take news like this? If there is, it would have been nice for her to know yesterday.

“Why don’t I make you something?” her mom asks again. “You want some coffee? Tea? Or one of those little mug-cakes you like so much?”

“I can make it myself,” she tells her, already tempted. She breaks out of her mom’s grasp and starts pulling stuff out the cupboards, the recipe crystal clear in her mind. She turns around, equal parts amused and annoyed at her mom hovering behind her. “I’m not going to burn myself on the microwave, Mom.”

“I know. Just, well, maybe you should be sitting down?”

“I can do it myself,” she repeats, despite her tired legs. She looks over at her again, annoyance beginning to win out. She spoons flour into her mug, white smoke puffing up before her eyes. “I’ll be fine, Mom. Besides I’m the only one who knows how to make them.”

They were Cady’s idea. Over the winter break last year, before it all truly went wrong, she had called Janis about this new recipe she stumbled upon on Pinterest, babbling excitedly about ‘little tiny cakes in mugs, how cute is that, Janis?’. She invited Janis over, insisting on testing out as many different recipes as her microwave would allow. There was something about the sight of Cady with a white handprint on her skirt and flour dusted across her nose like snowflakes that did certain things to Janis’ heart. She can’t be sure, but that might just have been the day she began seeing Cady in a new light and daring to imagine them as something other than friends.

The memory now only makes her heart clench. There are few things Janis loves in the world more than Cady Heron’s smile and nothing hurts her heart like when she’s sad. When her lips touched hers for the first time, she swore she’d never do anything to hurt her. She’s going to be breaking that promise tomorrow, even if it’s through no fault of her own.

She goes up to her room with a mumbled goodnight to her parents and an unexpected, quick hug from her dad. Maybe she should start expecting them, she thinks sadly as she trudges upstairs, one hand around her mug and the other gripping the bannister.

She curls up on her bed, too tired to sit up but too jittery to try to sleep. Besides, the sky is still orange out there and she refuses to go to sleep before the sun does. Despite herself, she feels strangely proud. Cancer or no, her sleep schedule is hers, at least to some extent.

She pulls her laptop over, squinting in its blue light, and opens Tumblr for a while, scrolling through likes and reblogs without any of it registering. She bounces through social media with twitching fingers, closing tabs not five minutes after opening them. Facebook is the worst; little green dots lined up at the side of her screen, each one able to contact her with the press of a key. The last thing she wants right now is a conversation. So she opens Twitter instead and lets the friends be mixed in with the strangers. She’s hidden as long as she doesn’t say anything and she has genuinely no intention to. No likes, no retweets, nothing but a stream of content she can half-focus on in a bid to forget herself.

It works, at least for a while, three jokes or art pieces for every “real person” who crosses her timeline. But her eyes are constantly drawn up to the searchbar against her will and when a post of Cady’s crosses her path, her eyes linger for longer than they should.

“Fuck it,” she mutters, typing her handle into the searchbar and tapping her nail against the mouspad. She’s not as strong as she looks, and recently she’s discovered that she’s really not that strong when it comes to her girlfriend.

Cady’s profile loads up on the screen, her profile picture of her hugging a lion at least putting a smile on her face. Cady rarely uses this, having only gotten it at Regina’s request and preferring to use platforms like Instagram, uncomfortable with Twitter’s character limit. 280 characters is barely enough to capture those beautiful thoughts of hers. But Janis scrolls through them anyway, not quite having realised how much she missed her until now, missed how she talks and thinks and the feel of her hand against hers. Scrolling through her Twitter is a poor substitute for having the real thing.

There’s a post from five days ago, of the two of them sitting in Cady’s backyard, her chin on Janis’ shoulder and Janis’ hand covering hers, the remains of ice cream around Cady’s chin. Cady’s mom had taken that on her daughter’s phone, the two of them lounging in Cady’s garden after she had been showing Janis her peonies.

Janis is almost taken aback by how she looks. She knows how she felt, exceedingly happy, dangerously close to in love and a little intoxicated, but also exhausted. Even though everything felt perfect and all she could ever want, in the back of her mind she was thinking about going home and collapsing into bed. Her skin crawls as she knows why she felt like that. The girl in the photo with the sparkling eyes and beaming smile has cancer. Her body was-is- falling apart bit by bit and she was none the wiser, enjoying summer sunshine and thinking about nothing other than how much she adores her girlfriend. How would she react if she knew that in a few short days, her life would be ruined?

She curses as she wipes away a tear. Hasn’t she cried enough for today?

She opens up a search engine, fear building in her chest, the hair on her arms standing up despite the warm air. She sits and watches the blinking cursor, the only sound in the room being the soft whirring of the laptop and her heavy, deep breathing. She doesn’t want to know, not at all. Knowing will only make it worse. She should just turn this thing off and toss it away before she does something she regrets. That’s what reason says.

She doesn’t listen to reason. Instead she listens to the one part of her brain that won’t shut up.

She types effects of cancer on relationships into the searchbar and closes her eyes tightly. If she can’t see the results, they don’t exist, right?

A high school senior using middle school logic. What’s become of her?

She clinks on the first link, squirming at the images that load in pieces on her screen. Hands clasped over a wooden table, two people looking into each other’s eyes with sincerity and sadness on their features. She’s never been good with emotions like that. Which is why she pushes them away, she supposes. Even the idea of sitting down carefully and Having A Conversation in hushed voices about such delicate, difficult subjects makes her want to vomit. Today was hard enough. Her parents are just lucky she loves them too much to do that.

She scrolls past sections about family and friends until the word ‘partner’ catches her eye and she stops. According to the article “cancer can be a difficult thing for couples to face” (yeah no shit). Little Miss Psychology who wrote the thing goes on to explain that “this can manifest in changing roles in the relationship” which again, no shit. The more she reads the article, the more she feels her time being wasted. There’s nothing she couldn’t already guess and most of it is for married couples with kids. Who’s going to take the kids to school, who’s going to pay the bills, who’s going to make dinner? Nothing that concerns her, nor should it for a long time.

She reads that cancer has a negative effect on their sex lives, and actually laughs. Sex was the last thing on her mind.

Then, near the bottom, it shifts from the practical to the emotional. Miss Psych explains that cancer can often cause “an inability to do leisure activities” and while that should have been obvious to Janis, it screws with her more than a little. Sure, she and Cady have quiet time in one of their rooms, but it’s always balanced by doing something else, trips to the mall or the movies, or going down to the zoo to see Cady’s beloved lions or the museum so Cady can watch Janis get lost in the art world. It’s the being with each other that makes it special, but going out like this keeps everything interesting for both of them. What do they become when that disappears?

With a shuddering breath, she pushes on, reading about how miscommunication can happen in relationships when this happens. Cady trying to keep positive could become dismissals in Janis’ eyes, or Janis keeping a mask up for Cady only leading to them stopping talking. And miscommunication is always the first step, according to Damian. Out of his three relationships two ended because they stopped communication.

And finally, “cancer can be a destabilising force for most relationships”. It’s one of the first things she sees and it’s the last thing she needs to see. There’s a lot she loves about her life now, or at least her life post-Spring Fling, and one of those is how solid it is. Steady friendships, or semi-steady in some cases, and a comfortable romance with Cady. For the first time in a long, long while she was happy without even trying to be.

She closes her eyes and turns onto her side, pressing her hand to her stomach. What must it look like in there now? According to the doctor, her body is producing more white blood cells and they can’t function and then something about her organs. While she should know better, the image of her blood turning white attacks her mind, something like white paint spreading through her veins and attacking her organs, turning them pale and hard and frozen. Maybe once it was done with her body it would bleed through her skin and show on the surface. Her body could become a statue from the inside out. Maybe if she stabbed herself right now, she’d bleed cold and white instead of red.

She shoots up, shaking the image from her head. Her heart is unsettled in her chest but she takes comfort in it, wild and erratic and alive. She pushes all thoughts of what’s happening to her out of her head, trying to replace them with anything else.

Unfortunately for her, the only anything else she can think of is Cady. Her only two options are her debilitating body or her debilitating love life.

Well, it’s not debilitating. Not really. Not yet anyway. Well, except for the fact that she hasn’t texted Cady back in two days. She’s not left her on read, but she’s no doubt left her worried. She’s always worrying, her Cady. Worrying that there’s enough food for everyone or that everyone at her place is having a good time or that her two friend groups will get along.

What will this do to her?

She opens her laptop again, fully aware of how destructive she’s being. But her mind won’t rest and checking the internet is just as good a plan as any. The article is still there when she opens it, the white light making her head hurt. Her stomach hurts more and more as she looks through the web and she’s sure it’s not because of the illness or the hastily-made mug cake.

“Cancer can be incredibly straining on the patient’s relationships,” the article tells her. “Often the patient will find it difficult to be a supportive and loving partner with the toll the illness takes on them.”

That’s the part that really sends her flying. The phone falls from her weak hands as anxiety takes over her body, making her hands shake and her chest tighten. She pushes the laptop away and pulls her legs close to her chest, pressing her forehead into her knees as she counts her breath, in for eight and out for eight.

Dumb as it sounds, she likes being someone’s girlfriend. She likes making people, particularly people she cares about, feel happy and warm and loved. It makes her feel worth something. Despite the front she presents to the world, she cares. She cares for fuck’s sake.

Cady deserves a girlfriend who supports her. One who is devoted to her and makes her life easier. Cady went through a lot last year, she wasn’t innocent in it at all, but she went through a lot. So many times she’s told Janis she’s excited to go back to school this year and just be normal. To study with her and walk to school with her and be her prom date.

‘Last year was like a shark tank,’ she had explained to her as they sat in the park, her head in Janis’ lap. ‘Next year I just want to float.’

The sharks might be gone, but Janis is bringing a whole tsunami.

It isn’t fair. None of it is, her parents have told her as much, but now it’s really not fair. Not to her and not to Cady. After a less than great first year, she deserves a better chance at real school life. She should have a girlfriend escorting her to prom, an old fashioned date-on-your-arm type of affair. They should dance under a glitter ball together while Janis whispers words of affection into her ears.

And then there’s the school side of school. Cady has so many college plans, big and lofty ones that require months and months of work. What will Janis be then? A distraction? Or worse, a burden. She’d never dream of demanding anything from her, but what if she can’t help it? Or if she doesn’t need to because Cady focuses on her anyway? What if she’s the reason Cady doesn’t make it? Her job as Cady’s girlfriend is to be her support system, her rock. If she can’t do that then what’s the point in them being together? Why should she have a girlfriend if she can’t give her everything every day?

It’s only when she finds her toy kitten twisted and wrung in her hands that she realises she’s spiralling.

“Breathe,” she whispers to herself. “Come on, breathe.”

Her mind clears as her heart slows down. Her worries don’t go away, but she can see them more precisely than before. She leans her head back against the wall, letting the air rush out of her. There is a solution to her problem, but it’s not one she likes. She guesses what she wants went out the window when her blood started acting like a dick.

After all, the best way not to hurt Cady with this is to just not be her girlfriend, right?

“You’re a moron,” she sighs, shaking her head. She stretches her arms and starts tugging on her pyjamas, tiredness taking over and dragging her eyelids down. She shuts off her laptop, avoiding even a glimpse at the article, and shoves it under her bed. In the quiet of her dark room, she can hear her parents murmuring downstairs and wonders, probably with good reason, if they’re talking about her. They talk about her a lot more than they used to. Years ago, Janis lay in this same bed listening to the same thing; anxious, inaudible conversations about her between people who thought she was asleep. Only thing is now, it hurts more. Guilt only gets worse with age. She drifts off slowly, her stuffed cat pressed into her chest, one thought coming together in her hazy mind.

She’s already hurt the three most important people with this. Can she really hurt Cady too?

*****

Her room is still dark when she jolts awake. Her eyes sting and she blinks heavily out of tiredness as well as getting used to the darkness. She knows why she’s awake before she even looks down or can feel anything. There’s only one reason she’d have woken up this early.

She switches on the light and finds her legs covered in sweat, small dark splotches on the sheets. Her top clings to her stomach and her hair to her neck, a feeling that’s uncomfortably and frustratingly familiar.

Her clock reads 4:30am. Groaning, she kicks her covers off and stumbles to the bathroom, rubbing at her bleary eyes.

Avoiding her reflection, she holds a cold cloth against her skin, her damp shirt handing over the edge of the bathtub. She can’t help asking herself, what if she had noticed this before? What if she had brought it up to her parents? She had just shrugged it off as nothing before. If she hadn’t, would they have caught it in time? Maybe this would be over sooner, maybe it would have been over already. If she had just paid more attention, she might be happy now.

She makes eye contact with her reflection, and the words ‘stupid girl’ ghost across her mind like the other her had whispered them.

“New level of self-deprecation,” she mutters, running the cloth under the cold faucet. “Blame yourself for… this.”

She settles herself in the bathtub and presses the cloth into her stomach and another to her neck, debating with herself if she should go get some ice from the kitchen. Ever the drama queen. She rubs at her heavy eyes, thankful that she has no plans for tomorrow. All her plans are cancelled for the foreseeable future, but at least there’s the silver lining of letting her sleep for longer. Karen must be rubbing off on her if she’s looking for the good parts now.

She’s almost nodding off in the bathroom, until the door open and her dad calls her name, shocking her awake and nearly giving her a heart attack on top of everything else.

“Dad!” she whispers sharply, stumbling out of the bathroom. Her dad’s eyebrows are shot up his forehead, his mouth hanging open a little as he looks at her with more alertness than she reckons he had a minute ago. He looks from the cloth in her hand to her damp shirt, confusion etched onto his features. “Dad I was just… I started sweating. I just needed to sponge off.”

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you… do you need any-”

“It’s fine.” She drops the cloth in the sink and moves to brush past him. “It’s fine, I’m okay.”

“Woah, woah, Janis,” he says, his fingers curling around her arm and his other hand on her chest. She stops where she is, avoiding his eyes. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“No,” she answers with a shake of her head. “No I’m okay. I just need to go back to bed.” Her dad nods and brushes her sticky hair away from her face.

“How long as this been going on?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “A few weeks, I think. It’s not every night. I think it’s a side effect of the… of you know…”

“Ah,” is all he says. There’s an air of discomfort neither of them can brush off.

“I’m fine, really,” she says, pulling his hand off her as gently as she can. She dares look up at his face for a minute, the two of them feigning composure of the other. “I’m done. You can use it.”

“Do you need anything?” he asks again. “New clothes, some water?”

She shakes her head, even though her throat is painfully dry.

“I can get new PJs in my room,” she tells him instead. “Good night, Dad.”

“Bonne nuit, petite fille,” he whispers in his native French. Although it’s short-lived, she manages a smile.

Back in her room, she pulls off her shorts and tosses them away. She may well run out of pyjama shorts thanks to this. After a second’s thought, she tosses her t-shirt away too and pulls on another one that’s a little too big for her. As she slides into her bed, she wishes her dad hadn’t mentioned water. Even though her throat cracks and she holds back dry coughs, she won’t ask for more than she has.

When she’s half asleep though, her door slowly opens, and when she wakes more minutes later, there’s a full glass on her night stand. It makes her smile, and it lasts longer this time around.

*****

Hours later, she wakes stiff and sore and nowhere near as refreshed as she should be waking this close to noon. As she curls into a ball and presses her face into the pillow, a wave of self-pity crashes into her chest and fills her lungs. Self-pity is probably her least favourite feeling out of all of them. Anger is an old friend and can be righteous and satisfying. She resists sadness more, but at least that can be reflective and healing. What does self-pity do for her? Doesn’t give her an outlet, doesn’t change anything. She just sits there and wallows in it, hating it more and more with each second until the anger wins out and she throws the covers off.

She leaves her phone switched off for as long as she can. She shuns technology entirely except for the TV, looking at the screen blankly with Maxie in her lap. Even her dog seems to know something’s wrong, either with her body or her mind. He presses his head into her stomach and looks up at her, eyes bright and wide and heart-meltingly cute, all the while whimpering quietly, his little paws tickling her stomach. Janis kisses his nose and it makes her feel a little better.

She goes up to her room and starts getting dressed, not wanting to spend the rest of her day in pyjamas. She’ll probably be doing that a lot a few weeks down the line. Possibly a few days down the line, she realises. Her shirt in her hands, she looks over at the calendar on the wall. Tomorrow is circled in red glitter pen and a little skull drawn in the box, ‘senior year’ written in black glitter pen above it. She wrote that weeks ago, end of July or beginning of August, back when it mattered.

The school knows now. Her parents called them up and told her the day after they found out. Janis, against her better judgement, sat against the bannister upstairs and listened in on it. There wasn’t a whole lot to listen to on her end; just a lot of ‘thank you’s and reiterations of what they’d been told in the hospital. What she would have given to have been a fly on the wall on the school’s end though. To hear every word about how sorry they were and the endless support they were offering to Janis and judge how much they meant it. North Shore’s not a bad place, especially since the end of Spring Fling. There are worse schools. But that doesn’t mean she trusts it. Trust is easy to eradicate and hard to win back.

Regardless, they’ll tell everyone tomorrow. They have to. It might be in a special assembly, or during morning announcements. Maybe they’ll take her friends out of class one by one and break the news to them gently. Or just assume they already know. They’d be a quarter right in that case.

Her phone is still dead on her nightstand. She picks it up the way you’d pick up a live grenade and holds it gingerly in both of her hands. Her reflection stretches before her in the screen like a funhouse mirror. She’s not felt quite so afraid of her phone since she was 12, but now she’s not scared of what people would say to her. The opposite really.

She turns it on after an eternity and places it on the floor until it stops buzzing. One message from Damian, asking how she’s feeling and if she wants to hand out, followed by a yellow heart. Three from Cady, one good morning text, one photo of her hamsters and one asking if she’s okay. It’s harsher than anything she’s seen from her before and the worst part is she has a feeling that’s only the beginning. It’s still polite and careful, asking Janis to talk to her “whenever she’s ready”.

That may take a while, Cady.

Her chin rests on her knees, her nails digging into the sides of her legs and her jaw tightly clenched. Her breaths are long and shallow. She’s not exactly a stranger to difficult conversations. Between coming out and telling them about Regina and telling her parents she wants to major in art, she could make a walk of fame of them if she really wanted to. But none were like this. They could all end in good things and they all did. Nothing good could come of this, not for her and certainly not for Cady.

She dials the number slowly, despite having never dialled a number in her life. Like if she takes longer, she’ll get a better idea. Or this will all end if she waits long enough.

Shouldn’t she know better now, she thinks as she presses call.

“Hi!” Cady picks up on the second ring, sounding out of breath, like she’d ran to pick it up. She can almost picture her just from the sound of her voice; brown eyes wide, maybe twirling the ends of her hair. Or sitting on her bed, her hand buried in a pillow and feet anxiously tapping the floor. She hates herself and this isn’t even the worst part. “Um, hey, how are you?”

There’s a tiny spark of warmth in Janis’ chest, in amongst all the fear. She’s missed her voice so much.

“Um, yeah,” she replies, aware she’s not actually answering her. “No I’m-I’m good.” As her mouth runs dry, she starts worrying if she is even able to talk right now. Near silence stretches between them, broken only by Cady shifting on the other line and her parents talking below her. As she tries to find something, the idea of just hanging up and throwing out her phone crosses her mind and she can’t quite dismiss it.

“Did you go to your hospital appointment?” she asks, a calm tone taking over her voice. “How was it?”

“Oh,” is all she can muster up. “It was…” Horrible. The worst day of my life. Ruined my life. I wish it had never happened. I haven’t been happy since. “Fine, I guess.”

“So you found out what was wrong?” she asks. The question forms a rope, tightening around her neck.

“Yeah. It’s not important.” Just slightly life-altering. She lets go of her wrist, shaking out of her cold hand. She flexes her fingers, words coming out of her mouth thoughtlessly. “I need-I need to talk to you.”

“Okay. Should I… should I be worried?”

Yes.

“I don’t know,” she replies. She pushes herself to her feet, legs shaking, and pulls her sweater around herself. She bites hard on the inside of her cheek. Her main priority out of this is Cady not hearing her cry. “Caddy…”

She closes her eyes and mouths a silent apology before continuing.

“Caddy, I think we need to take a break.”

Cady stammers on her end, nonsensical, meaningless sounds that do nothing but fill empty space. Janis bites into her fist as tears begin running down her face. It builds up in her chest instead and it aches. Is this heartbreak? Is this what they mean when they say it? She’d always taken it metaphorically. Turns out it’s literal.

“Take a break?” Cady echoes. “Janis I don’t-what do you mean take a break.”

“I mean-” She takes a deep breath, hoping that the sniffle sounds like allergies. “I mean, we’re going into our senior year, Cady. That’s a lot. You’re looking at math college, I’ve got a lot to do for art school, I think it’s best if we-if we just pause it.”

She can’t hold it back. She puts the phone on the bed, the covers blocking any sound and presses her face into a pillow, letting herself cry into the fabric. It’s not much, just enough to let herself breath again. It doesn’t stop hurting or even hurt any less, but she can speak again.

“Janis? Janis are you still there?” Cady asks, muffled by her covers. “Janis?” She picks it up and throws herself off the bed, walking in a continuous circle.

“Yeah I’m here,” she says, her throat raw. “Sorry Maxie was being a dick.” She crosses her fingers behind her back.

“Janis I just want-I just want to understand,” she says. Her own voice shakes a little and it’s a knife against her ear. She’s probably pacing the room, a frown on her lovely face. Janis slaps herself on the cheek like she can slap the image out of her mind. “Janis we can make this work. Loads of people date in senior year-hell, Karen and Gretchen are. Aaron was a senior year-”

“You’re going to use Regina and Aaron as an example of couple goals?” she snorts, an unkind edge in her voice that tastes vile on her tongue. Hurting Cady is more painful than the cancer will ever be, yet a part of her wonders that if she’s a bitch now, this will end faster.

Thankfully, she still has some integrity.

“That’s different,” Cady huffs. “That’s Regina. You and me… we’re you and me.” There’s a long sigh on the other end and Janis can imagine her rubbing her forehead like when she’s debating a math problem. “Janis lots of couples date in senior year. Rachel Hamilton was still with her girlfriend last year. They’re still together now. And I know-I know you’re worried about stuff, I’m worried about stuff, but if we stay together at least we can-”

“Cady!” She jumps at her own voice. She’s never heard herself as sharp as she was just there. Her voice echoes around her and cuts her skin. She lowers herself onto the bed again, her limbs weak. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cady assures her. She doesn’t deserve this level of gentle. Not from her. “It’s okay let’s just talk this out. Maybe we could get Damian-”

“No.”

“You’re right. Bad idea,” she says lightly. “Look Janis, we’re all stressed about senior year. But we don’t need to jump to anything yet, right? We can just take it easy and if it gets too much-”

“It’s already too much,” she replies. She’s not lying. Cady just doesn’t know. “Cady I’m sorry but it’s already too much. I can’t deal with a relationship now. It’s- it’s not you.” Her nails dig into her palm. “There’s just too much happening in my life for a girlfriend now. I mean, I didn’t think it would last as long as it did.”

“You didn’t?” And if pain were a sound, it would be Cady’s voice. Breathless and cracking, the two words shaking. If she had punched her right in the face it would have hurt less than what she just said.

Congratulations, Janis. You just did exactly what you wanted to avoid.

“Not like that,” she whispers pathetically. “Just… I think it’s best for both of us if we end it here.”

“Okay.” There’s a finality in that one word, a line drawn under everything they had these past months. Nothing could have prepared Janis for this. “Okay fine. If that’s what you want, then fine. We can end it here. I’ll see you tomorrow then, maybe.”

“Thank you.”

She’s not sure if Cady heard the end of that. The dial tone rings in her ear, loud and unending. She keeps it there because in a weird way it’s like keeping Cady there.

She got what she wanted, didn’t she? After all, why should she be Cady’s girlfriend right now when she can’t be what she needs? This is all for the best, isn’t it? Now Cady can focus on school with minimal distraction and Janis can go through this without dragging more people down with her.

“Fuck that,” she says in a low voice. Her chest rumbles as her breathes suddenly get quicker, her fingers curling inside and out. Fuck that. It’s not what she wanted, not at all. She wanted a senior year with Cady. For her to slap Janis away as she tries to distract her from homework. To greet her with hugs in the mornings and hold hands with her in the afternoon. Her visions fall apart in front of her and roll away, stopping her from building even a daydream to keep her going. Her nails scratch at her scalp as she pulls on her hair, a dull throbbing rising in time with the dial tone’s steady beeping. As she bites down on her cheek, she doesn’t know if she’s imagining the metallic taste in her mouth, if it’s blood or just her own cocktail of anger and shame and grief.

It keeps building inside her, rising like a tidal wave and filling her lungs, her mouth, her ears. Much like the hard conversations, these feelings aren’t new to her, rage and anxiety are long-time companions. Lately she’s started turning to the people around her when she’s feeling like this, heaving learnt the value of a support system, but her parents are busy enough and she can’t face Damian with this and drive a wedge between him and Cady who is incidentally the person she wants to talk to the most but she doesn’t have Cady anymore because she just broke up with her and Cady doesn’t even know why, and all Janis has is that stupid ringing dial tone-

“Oh shut up!” she yells, chucking her phone across the room. It bounces against the wall with an audible ‘thump’ and falls to the floor. At least the ringing stops. She her head hits the mattress, bouncing a little before going still. The ringing from the phone has entered her head instead and has seemingly no intention of leaving no matter how tightly she closes her eyes or how hard she covers her ears. Her nails leave indents on her skin and her fingers tangle in her unbrushed hair.

“Janis?” She doesn’t even hear her door opening above the noise in her head. Her mom hesitates as she enters, unease evident in her hunched shoulders and flitting eyes. “Janis I heard you yelling-”

“I’m fine.” The words are dull and heavy and hold no semblance of truth. She forces herself to look over at her mom. At least her eyes are dry. “I just talked to Cady.”

“Oh, baby,” she sighs sympathetically. The bed sags as she sits down, her hand covering Janis’. “I’m sorry hon. I know that can’t have been easy.” She just nods, a heavy weight pressing into her chest. She doesn’t cry and wonders if she’s used up all her tears in the past two days. Her mom’s hand moves in a small, gentle motion on her shirt; it’s comforting to her and it soothes her frantic mind. So why doesn’t she like it?

“Mom,” she begins. “No offence but I… I just want to be alone.” She can’t miss the sadness in her mom’s eyes no matter how hard she tries. The hand grows slower and lifts from her back. “I’m sorry, just-”

“It’s okay, Jan,” she says, pushing herself up. She stands over her, the picture of the doting mother. “We’re just downstairs if you need anything.”

“Mom.” Janis manages to push herself up by a mere fraction. Her mom halts right where she is, turning around so quickly she should be accompanied by a whooshing sound effect. She also can’t miss how bright her eyes are, ready to attend to whatever Janis needs. “Um… can you pass me my phone? It’s… it’s on the floor there.”

The request is so tiny and not at all suited to her mom’s hyper-focus. Not to mention how weak and pathetic her voice sounds. It doesn’t belong to her body, her towering frame that even cancer can’t take away from her. Her mom nods, smile on face, and hands it over to her.

“I… I threw it across the room,” she admits, gesturing with her chin. “At the wall.”

“That’s okay,” her mom says. Something about the careful tone doesn’t sit right with Janis, but she’s too drained to care. “If it’s broken we can just get you a new one, okay?” Her hair moves against the fabric of the covers as she nods. “See you later, kid.”

When her mom leaves, the door stays open slightly, no doubt on purpose. She doesn’t have the energy to get up and close it.

Tomorrow should have been the first day of her senior year. Instead it’s the first day for everyone but her. They’ll all be preparing for the unknown, but while her friends prepare for SATs and college choices, she’ll be preparing for IVs and blood tests. They won’t want to get out of their beds, and she’ll be confined to hers.

Janis rolls onto her side, her phone laying dark beside her. No new messages, not from Cady or Damian. The former probably doesn’t have anything to say to her and the latter doesn’t know what. He’s been giving her a lot of space since she told him. She runs her finger across the cold glass, gliding smoothly across until it finds something that shouldn’t be there. A ridge that runs against her fingertip. She’s almost certain what this means, and last week she would have been freaking out and throwing curse words around. Now she just sighs and turns on her phone to assess the damage.

Her lockscreen is, of course, a photo of her and Cady, taken by none other than Damian. The two wearing their pyjamas at a sleepover they had at Damian’s, a night of movie-musicals, Cady’s hair in a messy side braid and her head on Janis’ shoulder and Janis pressing a kiss to her head. An hour ago it was the perfect picture, and one of Janis’ favourites. Now there’s cracks running through the screen, small ones at the top poking through her hair and over her eyes, and a longer one that slices between her and Cady. They’re not too bad. Nowhere near bad enough to warrant a new phone. But they’re there and they’re all Janis can see.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #damian hubbard #cadnis fanfic #paint by numbers #janis x cady #fic: heart of stone #hey look! some cadnis! actual cadnis! whee!

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