His Heart On His Sleeve (Johnny & Buster Hurt/Comfort Fic)

… or, buster finds johnny crying at the theater at night and offers him some useful advice along with a friendly reminder.

it’ll be my first time showing you guys any of my actual writing, but here it is! (by the way this is not a ship oneshot, nada, nothing like that. just some father/son bonding.)

also, i am currently dying for a good johnny angst prompt at the moment (really, any type of angst is fine) so if you guys have any ideas for one, please let me know?

Before everything, Buster Moon didn’t remember having many animals within his life.

He remembered his father — his kind, warm-hearted father — who had died several years after buying Buster the local theater with the money he had saved up, penny by penny through the carwash. That every penny, every car his dad ever washed, had been a step closer, a token for Buster’s dream-come-true.

For years after his father’s death, Buster had been hard at work within the show business; with the little money he had, he kept a wide smile plastered on his face and his feet running. Put on the shows he was just certain would be the breakthrough of his career. No matter how battered and bruised he got, he rose back to his feet in seconds. He strived to live up to the theater’s name. Strived to dream big dreams. Strived to make his dad proud.

And at the end of a long journey, he finally had.

Buster Moon sat at his desk inside his homey little office, the theater so eerily quiet as everyone had retreated home hours ago. The practice rooms and the stage were empty now, but there was a sense of comfort knowing that they would again light up with music tomorrow, and the day after.

Tonight, stars shone as sugar spilt over black marble, glistening in the sun. The night sky was such a welcome sight, appearing like magic at each sunset, promising to return as it faded in dawn’s first light. There were times in the daytime, under skies of blue, Buster would think of those faraway stars and how they’d return after the shadows blended into the dark.

They rose up from the dust every night and they shone like the stars they were born to be.

Buster stood on his tiptoes — and when that wasn’t high enough, did a little hop — to shut the lights off in his office and with his keys, safely locked the door with the help of a small stool sitting at the side. Humming a happy tune, he gave Ms. Crawly’s desk a fond look before turning the lights off in that room too.

Buster made his way down the flight of stairs that led to the entire backstage of a theater — a place he wouldn’t hesitate to call home, honestly. Sometimes he couldn’t really believe that he had managed to come this far; for years he had been labeled as “crazy, mad, a danger to society, a disgrace to the world of theater production”… now he was Buster Moon, named best showman and show producer of all of Calatonia. He couldn’t have been more proud of his cast and his new found family, they were everything to him and he couldn’t see himself being able to throw any of that away.

He hopped down the final several steps of stairs and checked the time: it was almost past twelve thirty and Buster knew he had to head back inside his living area above the theater soon for a “good night’s sleep and another great day’s work.” And he was just about to do that when his feet were stopped by the sound of an awfully familiar sob. And then there was someone sniffling and choking back their tears, and a weak cough.

Buster followed the sound, looking for the source of the noise — and as soon as he turned the corner towards the backstage rehearsal rooms, the sight he saw just simply broke his heart.

Johnny — kind, caring, talented Johnny — was sitting perched upon one of the wooden steps that led up to one of the rooms, his worn skateboard by his side, while hugging his knees to his chest and his cheek resting on top of it, seeming to try too hard to keep his sobs to a minimum. His shoulders were hunched and shaking, his whole form was trembling entirely. Between seconds he’d break into sobs before he caught himself again and tried to stop, but was having a hard time doing so.

“Johnny?”

The noises were immediately swallowed by an uncomfortable, forced silence. His broad shoulders stopped lurching with every sob but Buster could make out the frames of both his hands, slightly trembling in his wake.

“Johnny, is that you?”

“M-mr. Moon!” Johnny scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking over one of the standing props, and Buster winced as his foot bumped against the metal costume rack on the side. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Ah, I was just about to shut her down for the night and return to my humble abode.” He gave one of the wooden pillars on the side of the backstage area a firm pat, the tiniest smile of pride on his face. “Johnny, I thought you left hours ago. It’s past midnight.”

“Oh, yeah, uh, I did, but… I-I left my skateboard down by the parking lot… and I didn’t want it to get lost.” Buster watched as Johnny’s eyes nervously darted away from his own, suddenly seeming very interested in the clock on the wall.

“… well, if you came to get your skateboard at the parking lot, how come you’re inside the theater?”

Johnny’s mouth opened as if to answer, but all that escaped past his lips was a sharp inhale and nothing else. Eventually he closed it without a word.

“… ‘s cold outside.” It seemed to be the best answer Johnny could come with at the moment.

“Is there a reason you’re upset?”

“Upset? Why would — why would you think tha’ I’m upset?” He nearly stumbled on his words and he slightly froze up when Buster fixed his eyes on him with a tentatively raised brow. “… just got sum’ dust in my eye, ‘s all.” He said, his voice barely a mumble as he gingerly lifted his arm to wipe his eye on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

Buster carefully made his way up to the much bigger mammal and sat himself on the empty seat beside him on the short flight of wooden steps. He gently patted the area next to him, and Johnny slowly sat back down. The stair slightly creaked underneath his bigger weight.

“So, why exactly are you upset, hmm?”

“But ‘m fine.”

“Johnny.”

The gorilla didn’t say anything for a long time, and Buster patiently waited. He wasn’t going to do anything else to pressure the poor kid, as he already seemed pressured enough by some sort of weight or burden he couldn’t make out. But he knew that whatever it was he had to get it out of Johnny, even if it took him the entire night.

“Mr. Moon,” Johnny finally said after what seemed like almost ten minutes, and Buster noticed the tremor in his voice. “… could you keep a secret?”

“Of course — swear it on New Moon Theater.”

Still, Johnny seemed to be hesitant to tell him whatever was troubling him so much — his brows were furrowed into a scrunched-up frown, almost as if thinking was hurting him, his finger tapping nervously against the knee of his worn jeans, lips pursed into a bit of a line. Occasionally he’d open his mouth slightly to chew down on his bottom lip, his canine poking against his skin.

Buster gently cleared his throat. “It’ll all be easier if you talk to me.”

“I know, I know that, but…” Johnny then groaned and put his hands over his face — it wasn’t long until Buster heard a quiet, restrained sniff from him and a silent mutter of ‘sorry’. And Buster gave him all the time he needed, sitting next to the gorilla who was much bigger than him in comparison but seemed so small at the moment, seen at his most vulnerable state.

“… before the concert and everything, well… something happened between me and m’dad.”

Johnny didn’t continue for a while and Buster patiently waited until he was ready to talk.

“… see, well, my dad — h-he’s not like most dads, he’s…” And then Johnny mumbled something barely under his breath, too quiet to hear even under the complete silence of the theater.

“What’s that, Johnny?”

“… a gang leader.” And then Johnny hung his head, looking as if he were about to cry, like a scolded child who had done the most terrible thing.

Buster thought back to the day of the theater flood disaster (a day he didn’t really want to recall but his mind made him anyway) and he thought of the front headlines of the newspaper Johnny had been holding, sitting on that very flight of stairs they were on right now—he had pretended not to notice back then, but the thing was… he had.

“GANG LEADER ARRESTED.” Big, bold letters printed across the very front page, right above a picture of a rather huge gorilla’s mugshot which took up about more than half the page. Of course, back then, Buster hadn’t given it much thought — but maybe he should have.

“So…?”

Johnny turned to him, the look instantly vanishing from his face to be replaced by one with complete confusion and what seemed to almost be frustration. “… so? Shouldn’t you be scared of me?”

Buster let out a quiet chuckle. “Johnny, give me one good reason why I should be scared of you.”

“Well, I did just admit to being the son of a mob leader, didn’t I?”

“And is that supposed to be the good reason?” In response, Johnny dropped his gaze to the ground almost shamefully and simply shrugged. “Johnny, if you believe that what you said is going to change my mind about what a brilliant kid you are, you might want to rethink that.”

“… really? And you’re not just sayin’ that to make me feel better?” Johnny asked carefully, moving his eyes off the wooden floorboards briefly towards Buster.

“I promise.”

For a moment, Buster could see the flash of a smile on Johnny’s face but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“… but I can tell that that’s not really the thing that’s troubling you here.”

“Well, it’s just…” Johnny lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, something Buster had noticed as a habit of his from quite a while ago. “… after my dad was, um, arrested —” He glanced at Buster and only slightly relaxed after Buster gave him a little nod. “— I’ve been tryin’ to work to get the bail money for him and my uncles. They told me it’s 50,000 dollars per person, a-and —”

“Woah woah woah, hold up.” Buster interrupted. “50,000 dollars per person? So —”

“150,000 dollars in total, yeah. At least, tha’s what they told me.” Johnny’s foot shifted uncomfortably against the wooden floor. “I-it’s quite much, I know.”

“It’stoo much.” Buster found his finger tapping nervously against his own knee. “And… how are you going to get all of that money?”

“I was initially plannin’ to use the 100,000 dollars for the singing contest if I could, but —” Johnny froze and stopped midsentence, noticing late what words had left his mouth. “… Mr. Moon, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to —”

“Hey, don’t — it’s okay. That… that’s a huge mistake on my side. Not one of my proudest moments, but… it’s what brought me here, isn’t it? I try to think of it that way.” Buster merely gave him a smile. “Anyways, go on.”

Johnny didn’t seem too sure of himself but continued anyways, seeming to grow more nervous by the second. “… I opened up my dad’s car repair business again, it’s bringin’ me an occasional few hundred bucks every week, but I’m tryna pay for all the expenses and the food, and the water and electricity bill and it really isn’t leavin’ me with anythin’… so I figured that I would be able to earn a little more with a part-time job.”

“Johnny, you balance your dad’s car repair business and a part-time job with theater practice?”

Johnny bit back down on his lip. “Actually, it’s two jobs… one didn’t really make the cut.”

“Two part-time jobs — where?”

“… one at a bar as a waiter and the other as a cashier at the supermarket.”

“Johnny, I…” Buster was at a loss for words. One major job as a cast in the theater was enough. Maintaining a business along with that was tiresome. Another part-time job to that was gruesome. But another? Buster couldn’t possibly see Johnny getting any time to sleep or eat at all — was he even doing that? “… Johnny, this is way too much for you. You can’t balance three jobs and a garage business altogether — that’s just impossible.”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Moon, I really shouldn’t have told you all this.” Once again Johnny was reduced into what seemed like a reprimanded child, suddenly looking down to avert Buster’s eyes altogether.

“No, Johnny, it’s just… how do your shifts go?”

“… I work as a cashier from seven to eleven thirty after I leave the theater.” Johnny quietly admitted. “And then I head over to the bar and work the night shift from twelve… until five.”

“Do you even get any time to sleep?”

Johnny drummed his fingers nervously against his lap for a while without answering before eventually he opened his mouth. “I mean, yeah… about two to three hours. B-but I have coffee and energy drinks every mornin’.”

Buster always greeted every one of his cast with the widest smile and sometimes the occasional hugs. Johnny had been no exception — but now that Buster took a better, more careful look at the young gorilla, he looked terrible; the skin of his face looked a tad bit clammier, lips chapped, and the dark circles underneath his eyes were quite clearly noticeable. It made Buster think if he had possibly been the last one to notice when he should have been the first — and he felt absolutely awful.

“Johnny, this… all this… you shouldn’t have to be doing all of it. It’s too much for you.”

“But, Mr. Moon… he’s my dad.”

“And you’re just a kid. You don’t need to work so hard to be earning any sort of bail money. That’s not something a kid should be doing.”

“But…”

“You shouldn’t have to be working more than one job to try and pay your bills and to free your dad and your uncles from jail — you should be going to school, getting good grades, making friends, going out with them with that skateboard of yours, going to parties and having fun and whatever kids do these days! This… this just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Mr. Moon…” Johnny swallowed, lifting his head to look ahead of him without much of a focus. “He might be a criminal and I know he is servin’ his sentence there in jail… but it’s too long. It’s gunna be years of me without him, and… a-and for almost forever, he’s really all I’ve had. I love ‘im, and… I don’t want him to spend the rest of his life in a cell. It scares me so, so much — thinking I’ll have to be… alone. Without my dad.” He again rubbed the back of his neck, but the touch seemed almost like an act of a cocked gun — ready to spring at a given chance. “… I just want to give ‘im a chance. I want him out, Mr. Moon. But…”

Johnny lifted his hand to move it over his mouth, as if trying to choke back on his own words. Buster then realized that there were tears gathering in Johnny’s eyes and they finally gave in, sliding down his cheek and eventually across his already-damp fur.

“It’s just so hard.”

His voice just broke right then and there, cracking with pressure — and it just tore Buster apart. “I feel like… like everything’s being ripped apart, and it hurts so bad that i-it’s like, like somethin’s tryna choke me.” He rambled on. “I’m tryin’, I swear, to try and make it alright, b-but sometimes I feel like something squeezing me and I just can’t breathe, a-and my hands don’t stop shaking, I try to stop but my heart just feels like it’s going to explode, and sometimes I get so scared because it just feels like I’m dying —” Johnny glanced sideways towards Buster, a look of a scolded child etched across his face and a glint of panic flashing across his features. “… I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m just really scared.” He released a very shaky breath, eyes downcast.

“Johnny, what is there to be scared of?”

The gorilla hesitated answering before opening his mouth to reply. “… of bein’ alone. Without family.” He sniffled again and wiped the corner of his eye. “Sorry.”

“… Johnny, we don’t apologize for being afraid.” Buster said quietly. “Being afraid isn’t something to be ashamed of — it’s what makes us strong enough to fight against what we face.”

He lifted his eyes from the floor. “Wh-wha’ do you mean by that?”

Buster stayed quiet for a little while. “… after my father passed away, I didn’t know what to do. Growing up, he was the only one who really believed in me.” He shrugged and gave Johnny a tiny smile — Johnny didn’t quite return it. “He was all I ever really had.”

Buster took out his old wallet from his back pocket (he ought to buy another one pretty soon) and carefully opened the folds of leather, slipping out an old photograph. Johnny finally removed his eyes from simply watching space as the photo caught his attention.

In the photo was a young koala being held by an older one, both of them wearing huge smiles on their faces. They both looked carefree. Happy.

“This was my father.” Buster said quietly, keeping the smile as he handed Johnny the photo, knowing he’d handle it with care — without a word, Johnny took the small photo from him and gingerly held it between both his thumbs and index fingers with both hands. “He was caring, and oh, so warm-hearted, made the worst jokes… but most of all, he was hardworking. Very diligent. Set his mind on something, there was no turning back. He wouldn’t stop until he had accomplished what he had decided to do. And for him, it was earning enough money for me to be able to call this place Moon Theater. A theater of my own.”

Johnny spoke for the first time in a while. “He sounds like a wonderful person.”

“He was, he really was.” Buster watched as Johnny gently moved his thumb over the grayish worn image of his own father. “After he was gone, leaving me this theater… everything seemed so lost. I had had tons of plans on what I was going to do, what type of shows I was going to produce, what I’d do for the theater and how I’d improve on it for more and more shows… I had all planned it for him. With my father gone, it just all seemed fruitless… if that makes sense.” He let out a weak chuckle, and Johnny shifted uncomfortably at Buster’s side, holding the small photo loosely between his fingers on his lap.

“I mourned for a while, couldn’t really get back up on my feet. Believe me, I was a complete mess. The feeling of loss, it was just too much. The notion of having to go on without him, all on my own, it just really… really got to me, y’know? It scared me. He had been my guide my entire life, knew what the right decisions were — I didn’t know if I would be able to follow his footsteps and do the same. I was just… Buster Moon at the time. I wasn’t anything else.”

“But you are more than that, Mr. Moon.” Johnny said softly, the volume of his voice slightly raised than before. “You’re… you’re passionate, you’re enthusiastic, and you always see the best in us. Saw the best in all of us, didn’t you? I think…” He cleared his throat. “… I think you’re a millenia more beyond just your name.”

Buster couldn’t help but crack a smile at Johnny’s sincerity — he could see it through the kid’s eyes. “Thank you, Johnny. Means a lot hearing it from you, you know?”

Johnny offered Buster a tiny smile — small, but nonetheless a smile. It soon faltered, however, as a look of deep thought overcame his face, the canines biting into his lip again. “So… how did you overcome it?”

“Not gonna lie, Johnny… it was hard keeping my head on straight and trying to maintain the theater business, let it live up to its name. It was my pride, it was my father’s pride. Every day there would be instances where I had to avert what I didn’t want to face — things that I didn’t have the confidence to face on my own. Well, until…” Buster gave Johnny a little nudge against his arm, although it was nothing merely more than a small poke. “… until I had the greatest luck of being able to find the greatest, most talented cast members I could ever ask for.”

Johnny chuckled. “Really?”

“Yes, really — never thought I knew it, but… I guess all I needed was a new family to help me get by.” Buster hummed throughtfully. “It started with my father, of course. But after you guys came along? I’ve been the happiest koala in the history of koalas.”

Johnny smiled. “A found family.”

Buster nodded in return, placing his much, much smaller paw onto Johnny’s hand. “A found family. A found family that will support you no matter what, with anything you need. That’s what helps to overcome fear, Johnny. Because with people like us by your side? I can promise this — you’ll never be alone. Never in a million years. Because sometimes,” Buster nodded towards the photo, still in between Johnny’s fingers. “things that you think scare you, can become your motivation to find what you’ve lost. It’s always somewhere out there — you’re just not looking in the right places.”

The gorilla flicked his gaze downward towards the small photograph he had still been holding — he carefully handed it back to Buster. “I guess I haven’t really thought of lookin’.”

“Well, now you know where to start looking, don’t you? It’s like I always say — Moon Theater is the solution to every problem.”

“You never say that.”

“Eh, it’s worth a try.” Buster shrugged as he got to his feet, tucking his wallet back into his pocket and lightly dusting his suit before turning to the gorilla. “Johnny, I mean it when I say this — your health and well-being comes first. Two part-time jobs is just way too much, one seems more than enough.”

“But then what about the bail money —”

“Bail money comes after your health and well-being, of course. Johnny… you don’t have to do this all on your own, alright? Remember you have a family to look towards.”

Johnny shrugged and rubbed his arm with his other hand. “Well, I dunno…”

“I’m sure everyone would love to help you if you just get yourself to open up to them.”

“You mean… tell them about my dad?” Johnny slightly winced and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yes, what else would it be?”

“But Mr. Moon, I-I don’t think it’s a good idea, I mean — Ash is still dealing with that ex-boyfriend of hers, Rosita is already busy with twenty-five kids, and I’m really sure Meena wouldn’t really like to know that I have a personal blood connection with a crimi —”

“Johnny, what you told me today hasn’t changed my view on you a tiny bit — there is not a bad bone in you whatsoever that tells me you’re anything close to a criminal… or any gang member, for that matter. You’re gentle, kind, caring and talented and soulful… kid, I could go on forever and ever. And knowing our cast,” Buster gave Johnny’s arm a gentle pat. “I’m sure they won’t think any differently.”

“… thank you, Mr. Moon. Really, I appreciate it. I… I really needed to hear all of this today.” Buster watched as Johnny’s tense shoulders finally seemed to relax, the look of relief spreading across his features. “Feels good to, y’know… be able to talk to someone.”

“Anytime, Johnny — now, promise me you’ll try to give yourself more time for yourself?”

“Yeah, promise.”

“Well, it’s getting late — do you maybe want a cup of hot chocolate before you go?”

The way Johnny’s eyes lit up like a child on Christmas day at the mere mention of hot chocolate sent Buster into chuckles.

“Really, hot chocolate?”

“I bought an entire stash of it after I saw you kids last week emptying three thermos of it each in the rehearsal rooms.”

“… if it’s not much trouble, Mr. Moon —”

Buster laughed and set off to find Johnny a clean mug and the hot chocolate mix he had stowed away somewhere in his cupboard.

might get a little angsty here, had these bottled up in my head for a while (can’t think of anything for nooshy, but i will think about it!).

johnny: 

- johnny hates crying in front of others, hates it more than anything. despises it and will bite down on his tongue or dig his nails into his hand to hold it in (sometimes it’s enough to draw blood).

- he appreciates the comfort his friends try to offer him at that very moment, but he hates looking so vulnerable when he’s supposed to be the strong one looking out for his best friends.

- whenever he feels like he can’t take it he quietly excuses himself to the bathroom.

- he completely lets himself go when he’s locked himself inside and his shoulders just lurch as he sobs over the sink.

- of course the rest can hear him and they all silently agree on the fact that he needs comfort.

- but they all know trying to bombard him at once at the beginning will just overwhelm him and make him say “he’s fine”.

- obviously, none of them are going to take that as an answer.

- so one of them (usually it’s ash or nooshy) visits his room with a cup of english breakfast tea (+ honey) once he’s calmed down.

- they usually find him practicing a piano piece he has to play for their show, continuously messing up on notes.

- johnny would try to greet whoever it is with a cheerful voice—sometimes they can notice that he’s still upset, sometimes they just can’t tell because he’s so good at hiding it.

- “i’m telling you, really, i’m okay. there’s nothing bothering me, honest.”

- he gives many attempts to try and change the subject when they try to get it out of him, but eventually they manage to verbally back him into a corner.

- johnny doesn’t say anything for a while and slightly starts to pace, then gives in and blurts out how he’s trying, he’s trying so hard to be perfect, to be the most he can, trying so, so hard to be strong, because he needs to be the strong one for the rest of them.

- but it’s just really difficult, and sometimes he can just feel the pressure getting to him and he’s just so tired and it makes it hard for him to breathesometimes.

- but the thought of becoming a burden just stresses him out way too much, so even though he wants to talk to an adult or a friend about it his mind and body just won’t let him do so, and it just feels like it’s building up inside his chest—suffocatinghim.

- his hands start to shake a bit and he starts to talk faster, rambling on and on as he picks up pace like he does when he grows anxious or nervous.

- “i-i feel like i should be able to do it, y’know? b-but then i try to do it, and there’s just so many other things that stay on my mind and it’s… it’s like it’s messin’ with my head. am i really not enough? i never know what i’m supposed to do to fix it all, and i just feel so… so useless.”

- johnny then stops and quietly admits that sometimes he just feels patheticandweak, and that’s when they give him a nice, warm hug, although it does take him a while to actually sink into it.

-“johnny,‘pathetic’and‘weak’ would be the last words anyone would use to describe you. it’s okay to tell us you’re feeling stressed out sometimes, all we want to do is help you. please don’t try to hide anything like that from us, it’s important we know you’re having a hard time. you’re never a burden… you’re our hope, o-our family… you’re our best friend. we love you.”

- eventually the others would join in and it just all ends in one huge cuddle/hug sesh until porsha cheerfully offers that they all watch his favorite movie to cheer him up.

- they all eventually end up tangled up in a mess of blankets and cushions on the couch asleep altogether, halfway through the movie.

ash:

- she hasn’t been able to get rid of her “stupid” trust issues after her boyfriend of five years, lance, ditched her for some random bitch named becky.

- ever since she never really let herself get too close to anyone else beside her new stage crew family.

- ash has always been scared of stepping out of her comfort zone, especially when it means getting deeply involved with other animals.

- but for some reason she holds onto the old electric guitar lance had gotten for her for their second-year anniversary, although she has more than enough money to buy a better and newer one.

- and oh god, she feels pathetic like a stupid teenager hanging onto her stupid ex and she can’t help but feel like she’s being a complete idiot over it.

- so ash has, more than five times, tried to throw her guitar away, case and all, reassuring herself that she can just buy a better one—one that wasn’t given to her by some low-life cheating bastard.

- but whenever she tries her hands start shaking as she grips onto the case, and her teeth clenches and she just can’t let go of it and it drives her insane.

- she finds herself thinking if she was that bad enough of a girlfriend for lance to go find becky, and she gets angry and she has to clench her teeth not to start bawling.

- she returns back to their condo and tosses the guitar case aside into the living room, disappearing into her own without a word, letting everyone there realize almost immediately what she was going through. 

- they know that she needs time for herself for at least thirty minutes before one of them talk to her so during that time, meena goes out to the nearest café and buys a piece of chocolate cake with bubble tea or hot chocolate.

- after those thirty minutes, one of them (preferably johnny) goes inside with her guitar and finds ash walking busily around the room aggressively cleaning everything up, loudly blasting music from her phone.

- it takes her a while and some soothing words to get her to calm down and bring her down from her “worked-up”state, and when she does she sits down on her bed, staring down at the red guitar case covered top-to-bottom with stickers.

- “i feel so stupid.” she says, fists clenched on her lap. “he was such an idiot, and i know he doesn’t deserve what i offer him… but why am i holding onto this? what am i doing wrong? i thought i moved on, and i know i have, but… something must be, just, really wrong with me. maybe… maybe i’m just not strong enough to erase him from my mind.”

- “you’re not, stupid, ash, don’t say that. and there is nothing wrong with you, i promise. sometimes… we just have a hard time thinking what we want and we wonder what’s right. no, you can’t forget him—the more you try to forget him, the more your mind will take you towards him. the best you can do—the best we can do—is create another chapter of your life. a fresh one, see? things were bad back then… but now, you have us, don’t you? we can write a fresh new page together, create better memories over the worse ones.”

- “you’re one of the strongest animals i know, ash. believe me. it’s going to be a tough journey, but you’re not alone.”

- then ash leans into them and they wrap her into a side-hug. they find ash wearily eyeing the guitar case again.

- “keep the guitar—it doesn’t have to mean that it’s something you can’t let go of. it’s just part of who you are, and the music you make from that guitar is what shapes you. think it that way, alright?”

- then they carefully hand ash her drink and her slice of chocolate cake.

- “ugh, you guys know me so well.”

porsha:

- porsha doesn’t really go visit her dad in jail, she tries to avoid doing it if she can.

- he’s never really been the best dad in the world, and he had done so many wrongs… but then again, he’s her dad. he used to be all she had.

- so from time to time, porsha does try to go talk to her dad to check on him—the last thing she would want was for him to fall ill or into some sort of state of depression.

- but he never comes talk to her, refuses to talk to her, but she decides to hold on and sits there for about an hour, hope dwindling every passing minute.

- eventually she comes back to their condo, not really hiding the fact that she’s crying or having a breakdown, her make-up completely smudged across her fur.

- before anyone can get up and ask her what’s wrong, she locks herself in the bathroom and doesn’t come out for sometimes hours.

- they knock on the door gently and ask her if she’s okay, but all she can manage at that point is just brokenly tell them to leave her alone because she can’t use her voice at the moment.

- she does unlock the door at some point but leaves it closed—whenever she cried as a kit she’d usually wait for her dad to come and maybe give her a hug, but it never really happened.

- she’s not used to asking for anyone’s comfort or consolation and is honestly embarrassed to show how sorryandpitiful she looks, so different from her “happy”facade. 

- but porsha knows she could use some comfort and stays in the same spot waiting for it—usually her friends all hear the door unlock and it’s not long until someone comes in to check on her.

- “i-i think my daddy hates me.” she chokes out, and she slightly bites down on her fist. “i know he’s bad, alright? i know he’s not a good person… but he’s my daddy. h-he’s supposed to love me, right? then why won’t he talk to me?”

- “listen.” they say as they take her hand, helping her to her feet. “your dad, well, he… he did bad things, i know. and he’s always had his priorities in the wrong place. his reputation came first before anything, and i can’t imagine what it would have been like growing underneath such a shadow.”

- “but just because he did have priorities in the wrong place, doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. he does love you, i’m sure of it… he’s just blind of who you are, he’s not considerate enough to appreciate you, because you’re such a wonderful, amazing person to be with. he just can’t see that.”

- “i know everything hurts because you feel like he doesn’t want anything to do with you. but he might, and i really really hope he does, that he’ll be able to get to see what’s important. until then, you have us—we appreciate you, and we’re all happy to be able to call you our best friend. we’ll get through this together, alright?”

- porsha feels better at these little pep talks and asks what she ever did to deserve such “awesome bffs”, they have a little laugh about it, have a group hug, before they decide to give time for porsha to clean up or redo her make-up so that they can go have ice cream at the city square.

( + might add one for nooshy if i can think of something!)

No. 26 COMFORT (Alt. 8)

@whumptober2021

@whumptober-archive

It was flu season, and despite vaccinations and precautions, Harrison had managed to catch it. Work was bad enough with pressures, but after a few days struggling through, he had to give in and rest. Fao’s place was the natural decision, and it allowed his boyfriend to look after him too.

Fao was only too happy to look after Harrison. He’d helped him out when he’d been ill not long ago, and he was just glad that his boyfriend had admitted he needed time to rest. He welcomed him inside, shepherding him into the warm.

“Hey, tomcat.”

Harrison pouted. “Bed?”

“Yeah, bed. I’m gonna make soup.”

He gave his boyfriend a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“And hot chocolate, if you want it. Go on up, I’ll be up in a minute. Arrow’s waiting to keep you company.”

“Thank you.” He called back downstairs, voice rough.

“Anything for you, Tomcat.” Fao replied, heading into the kitchen whilst his boyfriend got settled. He started the soup off, leaving it to simmer away for a few hours, and then made a hot chocolate to bring up. It always made him feel better, and it was the least he could do.

Harrison had made himself at home under the duvet, wrapped tightly around him and Arrow. He was wrapped around the dog, trying to keep warm.

Fao pushed the door open with his foot. “Hars? I’ve got you hot chocolate.” He said softly as he slipped inside. “If you can escape your duvet cocoon.”

“A straw and then I don’t need to move.”

“You’ll get too hot if you stay under there.”

“Don’t start that bullshit. I’m freezing.”

“When did you last have meds?”

“An hour ago?”

“Will have to wait a bit then.” Fao murmured, and put the mug down on the bedside table before he moved to lay with Harrison.

“You’ll get sick too.” He protested weakly as he curled into Fao.

“I’ll be alright.”

“I don’t want you to be ill.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.”

Harrison made a quiet noise in protest, but Fao was warm and he was too comfortable to move.

“Just let me look after you, eh?”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“True.”

“I feel absolutely shite.”

Fao ran a hand through Harrison’s hair. “I know. You feel really warm.”

“I like that.” He murmured. “Don’t stop.”

“Yeah?”

He hummed happily. “Yeah.”

“I won’t stop, then.”

“Good.”

“You’re cute when you’re ill.”

“I’m not cute. I feel like I’m dying.”

“Nah, you’re cute. Because you’re all snuggly.”

“I’m ”snuggly“ because you’re warm.”

“You’re cute.”

“I’m not.”

Fao moved to press a kiss to the top of Harrison’s head. “Mm, you keep telling yourself that.”

He sniffed, and then let out a low groan. “I will.”

“Your hot chocolate is on the side.”

“I’ll have a drink and then I’m gonna nap.”

“Napping is good. Just didn’t want it to get cold.”

“Then it would be cold chocolate.”

“Not the same, eh?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Marshmallows?”

“Yeah, put some little ones in there.”

That swung it and he slowly pushed himself upright. He groaned at the change of position, nausea rising. He took a few moments to breathe before reaching for the mug.

“Thanks, Fao.”

“Anything for you.”

“Sap.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Harrison drank the chocolate, savouring the marshmallows. Fao had always made the best hot chocolate, even when they used the same packet. He settled down to sleep after that, curled on Fao and as content as he could be.

Fao stroked through Harrison’s hair as he drifted off to sleep, glad his boyfriend was resting. God knows he needed it. If he was honest, he drifted off after a while too, warm and comfy with nothing better to do.

When Harrison woke, he felt infinitely worse. His hair was plastered to his forehead, but he was freezing cold. His body ached and burned, and the pain in his head was crushing. He pressed closer to Fao.

Fao stirred, aware Harrison was burning hot against him. “Hey, Tomcat. You alright?”

He shook his head, already in tears. “No.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry.” Fao said gently. “It’s alright, I know you feel rotten.”

“I’m dying.” He wasn’t exaggerating.

“I know it feels like that.” Again, Fao ran his hand through Harrison’s hair, unbothered by how sweaty it was. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be alright.”

Harrison shook his head, making his way further on top of Fao. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

“Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m here.”

He nodded. That was good enough. He was too tired to argue any more, and slowly lost the fight keeping himself awake. He pressed closer to Fao again, fast asleep.

Been in a quarantine with my partner. It’s been a whirlwind of emotions.

Yesterday, we were fortunate enough to explore some bluffs, and a forest an hour away from our apartment. It was crowded, mildly exhausting, but also beautiful, and warm. I ache to spend more time out in nature like this. Especially with someone I love and appreciate very deeply.

Feeling so settled to be inside my abode. To be taking time for myself in this moment of worldwide chaos. What I realized was how much time I’d spent working, and how much time I’d spent being anxiouslyunhealthy.

I will use this time to be grateful and mindful, and connect more with both my partner and myself.

I will use this time to work on my mind, my body, my strength, and my breath. I will alow myself breaks, rest, yoga, and lots of junk food.

Everyone, use this time to reflect positively on what this global pandemic is doing to cause global warming, and pollution to decrease immensely, quickly. Our Earth is going to take this time to breathe.

I will hopefully update more later, and share some delicious healthy, vegan recipes (that can be made inexpensive and easily accessible) !! Also will add some hotlines to call, depending on Country and State, that will provide assistance for people in need. Things like how to pay rent, acquire loans from your bank, receive medical insurance, afford food, medication, etc!

☀️❤️✨

Comfort place

inkskinned:

fucking hate it when the stuff everybody says “actually works” does actually work.

hate exercising and realizing i’ve let go of a lot of anxiety and anger because i’ve overturned my fight-or-flight response.

hate eating right and eating enough and eating 3 times a day and realizing i’m less anxious and i have more energy

hate journaling in my stupid notebook with my stupid bic ballpoint and realizing that i’ve actually started healing about something once i’m able to externalize it

hate forgiving myself hate complimenting myself more often hate treating myself with kindness hate taking a gratitude inventory hate having patience hate talking to myself gently

hate turning my little face up to the sun and taking deep breaths and looking at nature and grounding myself and realizing that i feel less burdened and more hopeful, more actually-here, that i am able to see the good sides of myself more clearly, that i am able to see not only how far i have to grow - but also how much growth i have already done & how much of my life i truly fill with light and laughter and love

horrible horrible horrible. hate it but i’m gonna do it tho

simista:

Its a new mesh and works fine (well it should) I was going to make more colors but I run out of ideas fast, feel free to recolor and share as our TOS states. 

Download from our site

http://simista.blogspot.com.au/2017/01/toddling-toddler-bed.html

Prompt #59

The whumpee lay curled on the couch, thin frame completely swallowed up by the thick, wool blankets.

“I- I’m not- not allowed… to sit by the fire,” they’d explained to the caretaker moments before, voice breaking over the few words.

To the caretaker, it felt like a knife to the heart.