For years Puck had been successful in keeping friends and acquaintances away from his house. And whenever class group projects did pop up, he was quick to suggest schlepping his ass to someone else’s house or meeting at the library or Starbucks or somewhere other than his single-wide trailer. What had become most commonplace was that he just wouldn’t take part in the assignment at all. It was way easier doing that than having to explain why his mom was tanked at one o’clock in the afternoon or why the few furnishing in his house were either cheap, broken, or stained. But Santana had invited herself over and Puck wasn’t about to fight it. Not when he’d already fucked up the first week of the project. Usually he didn’t give two shits about school, but this time it wasn’t just his grade on the line.
It didn’t take much effort for Puck to convince his mom to spend her day at Lucky Dog Casino. Maverick had cried numerous times during the night and she’d threatened to toss the damn thing into the barbecue if he couldn’t shut it up when he shuffled into the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of Fruitloops on Saturday morning. Puck even gave her some of the money he’d been stashing away from cleaning pools and dealing dope to help sweeten the deal. He just wanted to make sure that her trainwreck didn’t return to the station when Santana was still milling about. And the moment his mom’s beat up Honda turned the corner out of view, Puck went to work cleaning the place up as best he could. Despite a few resting periods to tend to Maverick’s cries, within a couple hours the place was, at the very least, presentable. The cigarette butts were trashed and he vacuumed and wiped up the lingering ash and dust that left a thin layer on almost every surface. The dishwasher was full and running and all of his dirty close were shoved into his closet. It was the most Puck had ever done to help out around the house chore wise, and honestly it made him feel just the tiniest bit guilty. But that was sure to fade when his mom returned drunk as a skunk and completely broke.
He sent off an Instagram DM to Santana, informing her of his address and letting her know it was cool to come over, and plopped down into the plaid recliner to await her arrival. It wasn’t long before he heard the crunch of tires against gravel as she pulled into his driveway. Puck opened the front door and held the screen door open for Santana as she came up the walk. “Welcome to Chez Puckerman.”
Lexa went all out when it came to playing soccer, and anyone who ever watched her play knew that for certain. She always prided herself on her lack of injuries, but that trend came to a screeching halt during the weekend game. It was only their second game of the season, and a player from the other team kicked the ball right as Lexa tried to. The result was Lexa rolling her ankle off the side of the ball, hard. She felt a pop and a crack, but convinced herself, and her teammates, that she was totally fine.
The next day at school, however, the pain in her ankle was getting worse. As she walked from class to class, she could feel herself limping more and more. Being as stubborn as she is, however, she refused to tell anyone or show anyone that she was hurting. There was no way she was going to be benched this early in the season.
WHO: sam evans (mentions of his family and others)
WHAT: he needed to leave.
WHEN: 9/29; late morning
WHERE: the evans home
WARNINGS: (mentions of alcoholism) WC: 672
He needed to leave.
Return to his carefully-crafted Boston bubble and put the last two weeks behind him. The weirdness, and not just with whatever the hell was happening in the small town, seemingly paling in comparison to the…everything happening at home.
Surprisingly, the bar was thriving. But it was the only win amid quiet chaos. His father was a mess, Stacey was worried, and Sam was at a loss and dangerously close to having a real conversation with Mercedes again. It wasn’t her problem. It was his. One he’d grown far too accustomed to.
He should have expected it.
Not like it was the first time.
When he was fourteen, when the death of his mother was still fresh and his father could barely dress himself let alone his children. James had fallen asleep, deep in a whiskey-soaked slumber, a lit cigarette in hand and it was lucky that Sam had skipped school and arrived home when he did.
Fool’s luck. His mother called it. The Evans blessing, but Sam felt anything but with every close save. And it happened. It always happened. The forgetfulness, the neglect. The days he’d have to walk to the grocery store, balancing bags and the checkbook, fending for himself and his sister because his father was grieving or drunk or utterly incapable of handling any menial task.
And it reflected in the home.
Really, he should have expected this.
It’d been too quiet. The gossip had briefly resurfaced when he did, the polite smiles to his face hiding the hushed tones they spoke in behind his back. The Evans boy returning to clean up his father’s messes.
Like always.
He wouldn’t have bothered coming if it hadn’t been for Stacy, who called him late one night, fear and tears in her voice, telling him about her bad feeling and the last thing Sam wanted was her being distracted from school, so he took up the task.
Like always.
The smell of smoke at five a.m. woke him before the detector did, stunning for a few precious seconds before startling him into action. It took ten minutes to get the fire under control, to stop the catch of curtains and the blackening of paint, both picked years ago so lovingly by his mother’s hand and her eye for design and in the end, both were irrecoverable. Scorched, singed, and reeking of smoke.
His father never stirred.
Not even as the alarm screeched shrilly, not even as Sam, bare chest heaving and wracked with coughs worked to catch his breath as he surveyed the extensive damage.
James, settled in his recliner, a bottle of Jameson empty on the end table beside him. Snifter of whiskey tumbled to the floor, watered down liquor soaking into the carpet. He awoke only when Sam jostled him, opening red-rimmed eyes with that same dazed look, seeing but not seeing, seemingly looking past his son as if he were a stranger.
Not like it was the first time.
Sam, the hero. The cleaner. The fixer. The roles had been reversed since Maggie died, with so much resting on the broad shoulders of a teenage boy simply trying to get through eighth grade.
And sometimes, in quieter, more hateful moments, he wished to be done with all of it. The sad silence of a house slowly falling apart from the inside out, charred and sitting in ruin. And the whispers. He was tired of his father’s quiet melancholy, the guilt that rolled off him, mingling with the scent of the liquor that seemed to seep from his pores.
The slow way he poisoned himself and the rest of them. The spectacle of it all. The pitying looks and whispers of ‘poor James Evans’ and ‘the children’. The kids with the dead mom and the drunk dad and the house in ruins.
It was entirely too much to fix on his own. And this time, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. If any of it was worth saving.
Blaine loved Thanksgiving. It was always a huge holiday for his family back in Ohio. Everyone piled into his grandparents’ house and feasted on every comfort food imaginable. It was always too crowded, but it was amazing to share food and see his cousins that he only got to see once a year. Now that he lived in New York, Thanksgiving was a bit quieter. Albeit, the streets were packed beyond capacity due to the Macy’s Parade, but the apartment was at a lovely hush. The only sounds to be heard was the ringing in of the Christmas holiday on the television, and he and Kurt singing and giggling while preparing food in the kitchen. Rachel normally joined them, but this year she opted out to be with family. Sebastian would be joining them instead. Blaine was relieved that Kurt invited him. He didn’t want his friend to be alone on a holiday, and it actually helped establish a better sense of normalcy since their experimental sexual encounter together. Blaine refused to let it be awkward, and with time it was actually becoming easier to make it so.
Blaine danced around the kitchen as he put the final touches on his cheesecake and stuck his finger in the sauce, holding it to Kurt’s lips for a taste. “What do you think?” He grinned. “Chocolate raspberry. I don’t think I need the cake. Just a spoon and this sauce.” His nose wrinkled in laughter.
Kiril was glad Caspar was coming over. The two of them were not best friends, but they were extremely friendly with each other and Kiril enjoyed showing his skills off. He was going to be making a multi layer cake for an order and was excited because it had come out looking nice. Decorating it was the fun part and also the part he liked to show off. He was assembling all the candy and frosting whole waiting for Caspar.
the closest thing to family → cassandra warren and emerson voorhees
with: @cassandrawarren
where: cassandra’s place at kingsgate
with a small bouquet of flowers in one hand and a ‘frozen’ elsa mug in the other, emerson walked up to the driveway and rang the doorbell before waiting patiently to be let in. it had been a full week of unloading boxes, commanding movers where to put what, and, of course, piles and piles of take-out meals, but the penthouse apartment had finally started to feel like home. despite this, emerson had never been too keen on cooking, and he hadn’t gotten around to grocery shopping either, so the invitation from cassandra to join her and trixie for dinner was one that emerson gladly accepted.
since cass had moved to lanford, emerson hadn’t had a lot of time to catch up. of course, she’d been there at his father’s funeral, and they’d spoken shortly once he was buried, but other than that emerson had mostly buried himself in work, and cassandra had had her own things to worry about. still, he was glad that they were making time to sit down together, to catch up, because he’d enjoyed having cass in his life ever since she was introduced to the voorhees family as an aspiring magazine journalist all those years ago. it was nice to have someone to rely on, someone who was close to the family but not actually related; it made it easier for emerson to not see her as someone he needed to protect, the way he saw both his sisters and his mother. with cass, he was the youngest.
when she opened the door, he greeted her with a warm smile and a hug before he spoke. “hey cass, these are for you,” he told her while he held out the flowers, stepping inside her house so that she could close the door behind him. “and i got this for trix,” he continued holding up the elsa cup, “i don’t know if she’s still into frozen or not, but i figured you can never have enough mugs, right?”
The months that had passed since the ‘incident’ in the tunnels had been the hardest months of Eurydice’s life. Despite the way she’d brushed it off to her peers, it affected her deeply. The need to shield the rangers from further upset and discomfort was far greater than the need to tell them how she really felt, though. Whenever they asked if she was okay, she’d just smile and nod, because it was easier. It was easier than explaining to them just how badly going up against Griffin had damaged her. It was easier than thinking back to that moment where all she could see was Rory’s blue helmet as she drifted into unconsciousness. It was easier than telling anybody that sometimes when she closed her eyes at night, all she could see was the sticky, warm blood on her own hands from the wound that almost killed her. Everything was just easier if nobody but herself knew how she really felt.
It wasn’t that she hated Griffin, no, she actually admired him. Not in the way she admired Rory, or Bianca, and even Sawyer. It was a different admiration. She admired him like he was a big brother, rather than a friend. He was their RA. She trusted him. He had the ability to put a whole room at ease whenever he entered it, and his smile could probably cheer up even the saddest person. That was what made the betrayal so damn hard. It wasn’t that he’d hurt her. It was the fact that someone she trusted had done it, or at least someone with the face of someone she trusted. Someone she looked up to. She could never hate him, though, even if sometimes she really wished she could. Maybe hating him would allow her to release some of the pain that was buried deep inside her.
Ever since she’d woken up in the medical bay, Eury had tried to look at life differently. She’d been trying to be better. Trying to make Aspen happy, and make her proud. She was trying to prove to everyone that she wasn’t some reckless teenager who just wanted to have fun. Eury wanted everyone to know that she was capable of being ‘normal’, and of being the leader that Kat had told her she was destined to be. She’d even talked to Griffin once or twice, and hadn’t completely blasted him when she’d done so. There was no point. It wasn’t his fault. It was Devone’s, and her own. Griffin wasn’t to blame. He was unfortunately just a pawn in a sick little game, and Eury couldn’t blame him.
Meeting Cody was like a blessing and a curse all at once. She made Eury happy, but the romance was also such a whirlwind. There had barely been time for her to breathe since meeting her. Things moved so quickly, and before she knew it, she’d ended up saying yes to being her girlfriend. Taking chances was something she wanted to do after almost dying, but sometimes she had to wonder whether she’d made the right choice. As much as she’d fallen for Cody, there was also that nagging thought in the back of her mind telling her she wasn’t good enough for the girl. She never would be. Cody was good, and she had a beautiful heart. Eury was dark, and her heart was dark, too.
Ranger training had been taking it’s toll, even though that was her own doing. Eury was pushing herself to her limit and beyond, just to prove to Kat and Tommy that she was going to be what they needed her to be - an unstoppable leader that could lead the team to victory. She’d fight the dino bots until her heart felt like it was going to stop, and she’d run the assault courses until there was no breath left in her lungs. While she was fighting to be the best, there was no room for her to dwell on the fact she was actually the worst, or dwell on what had happened to her. There was no time to sit and think it over in her head. She refused to give herself time to process, and time to feel the pain of everything that had happened ever since the island.
Syria and Aspen were on her mind, too. It wasn’t that she didn’t want her sister to be happy, or find someone new. It was just that she knew too much about Syria, and she didn’t trust her. She didn’t trust her with her sister, and she didn’t trust Devone, either. He knew where Syria was, and he could hurt Aspen at any time, if he really wanted to. If he knew that her and Syria were friends, or more than that, then he could use it his advantage. He could hurt her to make Syria do stuff, and the thought of that made Eury’s stomach churn. There was nothing she could do, though. Aspen never listened to her about Griffin when he was evil, so she definitely wasn’t going to listen to her about Syria.
There were just so many things to be stressed out by, and overwhelmed with. It was slowly killing Eury’s spirit day by day. It was chipping away at her, and soon there’d be nothing left.
“Don’t cry, don’t fucking cry,” she mumbled to herself as she wiped at her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie. “It’s dumb, it’s not worth crying.” Despite what she was saying to herself, Eury knew that this breakdown was justified. It was to be expected when she’d been bottling up so many feelings for so long. She thought that maybe she could have lasted a few months longer, if it weren’t for the fact that she’d learned of Bianca and Griffin’s plans for a date. She wasn’t even mad at them, because she had no right to be. It wasn’t even because of her stupid friend crush on Bianca. It was just that everyone had moved past what had happened, but Eury couldn’t. No matter how much she tried, it was always there in the back of her mind. She couldn’t trust herself to make decisions anymore, and she couldn’t trust herself with Rory. Their adventures barely happened anymore, because she was too scared that she’d lead her into a whole world of pain again. Hell, part of her was even glad the power had been out for so long. It meant that she didn’t have to worry that she was going to get her team killed by making an idiotic, or reckless decision. But God even threw a spanner into the works when it came to that, because in spite, he decided to have her sister and Griffin be trapped in an elevator together. Life hated her. Karma hated her. The universe hated her. It wanted her to live in a constant state of worry, and torment.
Everything was just... No, it wasn’t everything. It was just her. She was broken, not everything else, or anyone else. Just her. And she had no idea how to fix herself. She could put on a facade, and pretend everything was okay, but deep down it wasn’t. Sure, she was in love, and she had good friends, but none of them could understand how she felt. Perhaps that was unfair to think, because she hadn’t even suggested to them that she needed them. No, she just held everything in like she always did, until she burst and the anger, upset, and pain came seeping out in the form of tears.
Eury wished she could talk to someone, and tell them that nothing was as okay as she was saying it was. But she couldn’t. People relied on her. They relied on her to be the strong, fearless, badass leader. They relied on her being the comedic relief who never took things seriously. Her pride also wouldn’t let her tell anyone she needed help. Why did she have to be so stubborn? She knew that if she told Aspen or Rory, they’d be there for her in a flash, and try and make everything better. But she wasn’t going to do that. She wasn’t going to be selfish and drag them down with her. Hiding it was the best thing to do. She’d allow herself a few minutes to cry, then she’d get up from the cold, concrete ground of the abandoned parking lot she always frequented, go back to the dorm, and smile and nod at when asked if she was okay.
Who was she kidding? She couldn’t do that. As soon as someone asked if everything was alright, her bottom lip would definitely quiver, and then they’d immediately know something was very wrong, because Eury didn’t cry. It wasn’t something she did. She’d even had people refer to her as emotionally stunted, because she never expressed anything other than hyperactivity, anger, or super, manically depressive episodes on a bad day. ADHD intensified most feelings Eury felt, and right now? Right now she felt like running into a busy flow of traffic.
Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she typed in her passcode with trembling fingers. “C’mon Eury, stop being stubborn,” she sniffed, pulling up her contacts and scrolling down until she found the number she needed. “She’s not going to be mad, she loves you, you’re not a burden. She wants you, she does,” she told herself, sucking in a deep breath before pressing the call button. Holding the phone to her ear, she closed her eyes as she listened to the rings. “C’mon, pick up, please...” When she heard the voice she needed to hear on the other end of the phone, a wave of comfort washed over her. “Mama, I’m coming home. I need you. I’ve fucked up again.”
Anya was sure it had never rained this hard in Colorado. While it might have seemed like a vast overstatement, she had hydroplaned too many times to count on her way back from Boulder. She had made a drop off at a local rehab facility for a few coyote pups she had picked up off the side of the road last week. She had sat and waited in the car for hours in the heat and watched the babies wander around in dehydrated circles, ensuring they were truly orphaned.
The heat wave had brought a dry spell with it, leaving many animals on their own for finding a sufficient water source. Today, though, on the drive up, the skies had opened. And they hadn’t stopped since. She was overly careful when she drove in the rain, making sure to stop well before the stop signs or light signals. She flashed her high beams around sharp curves, of which there were plenty on the way back down the mountain. She made sure to test her brakes every so often down each steep hill and to coast to a stop instead of hitting the brakes hard on the steeper inclines.
What she was not prepared for, though, was the large buck that came from the other side of the road, cutting clear in front of her small Ford Focus. She saw it heading straight for her and on one side of the road, there was barely a breakdown lane before the guard rail and then, a giant ravine that was far to steep to even consider. And she had seen the headlights of the semi on the other side of the street long before now. She knew there was nothing she could do, nothing safe, at least. She braced herself against the steering wheel and inhaled sharply when the buck collided with her car.
The small car spun out of control and into the guard rail, bouncing off and back across the road, sliding on the wet pavement only to hit the other guard rail, too. Anya’s neck whipped along with each impact the car made and the airbag deployed, smashing into her face, sending her head agains the headrest. When the car finally came to a stop, she could feel the pitter patter of rain drops on her forehead; she could taste blood and she couldn’t move. Her chest was tight; she had clearly broken ribs--her thoughts faded out and she felt the nausea creeping in. She was trying to rationalize what was happening but before she could think any further, her eyes closed and she was out.
