If you make fun of addicts online, you are a piece of shit. It’s not funny to make fun of people who are struggling with addiction. I’m sick and tired of seeing videos on YouTube of people who are “visibly” addicts getting publicly humiliated and ridiculed. I see the comment sections of videos like that and am sickened. Some people truly forget that the people they are ridiculing in the “smackhead nodding out on bus” or “crack whore in Walmart” videos are real people. Addicts are human beings. We deserve to be treated with respect. We deserve basic human rights.
Addiction is a disease. Being an addict doesn’t make you a bad person. You are not a good person because you don’t do drugs. You’re definitely not a good person if you make fun of sick people who are struggling with a disease.
Part two of even I do mistakes where reader uses drugs so yes, this one involves drugs.
You woke up early, really early. You wanted to make sure when John appeared you would have your apartment in check. You hid one bag of weed in between two kitchen counter’s lockers but the other two you put in a plastic bag on the kitchen table for John to get rid of. Just so he believed you. You brushed your teeth, combed your hair and made sure you looked as healthy as a horse, a weird saying but it would have to do. You almost tripped on a door step when you heard your doorbell ring. You hurried to open it and without checking who it was let the door fly open only to be faced to face with Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock’s eyes didn’t say a thing, his whole face was blank, but you had an idea what was going through his head. He did his best not to show how disappointed and irritated he was. John had told him. But he swear he wouldn’t say a word to Sherlock.
”Mo-morning…” You stuttered, stepping back as surprisingly Sherlock stepped into your apartment, rushing past you and said the same to you with a stern voice.
Right behind came John, who earned a nasty glare from you. He followed you into your flat and you closed the door behind him. Even if you had been a little distracted by the fact Sherlock was here you still noted how beautiful the weather was. Sun was shining and had already come up from the horizon.
”Where is it?” Sherlock called from your living room.
”Where is what?” You snapped back, he had been rude to you and you wanted to return the favor. It was a surprise that he even greeted you.
Sherlock’s face appeared from the living room’s door way to the hallway where you and John were still standing in. Sherlock’s brows furrowed and he stated ”The drugs. This is a drug bust isn’t it? So where is it?”
Your own expression mirrored Sherlock’s, your brows knit together and with a displeased frown on your face. ”In the kitchen.” You told him and then he disappeared. You turned towards John, still scowling and your arms crossed over your chest. ”Why is he here?”
”He wanted to come. He actually insisted to come.” John said showing no remorse. He sifted his weight from left to right. He appeared to feel uncomfortable but still in charge of what was going on. It irritated you.
”You promised you wouldn’t tell him.” You reminded coldly.
”Well, I didn’t have to. He deducted it.” John crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking you. He lifted his chin up, looking down on you before continuing. ”Besides it’s better this way.”
”Better?” You couldn’t keep your voice down. ”How is it better?”
”He would’ve found out soon enough anyway. And believe me it wasn’t pretty when he did.”
”Yes. I’m sure.” John assured Sherlock when they entered their flat. ”Now how did it go? Did you solve it?” John tried to change the subject, but Sherlock knew he was hiding something. And he wouldn’t let go that easily.
”Yes I did, it was the neighbors who did it, now as I just said, are you sure?” Sherlock’s eyes were fixed on John. He kept trying to read him, but he couldn’t find any clues on him. He had to try something else.
”Yes, as I said, I’m sure. Everything is fine.” John chuckled, nervous. He had to be nervous. There was something he was hiding. Had (Y/n) said something? About him maybe? Had she found someone else he was interested in? Had he waited far too long to make a move on her? Had John told her something about him that made her not want him? No, there couldn’t possibly be anything he had done to make her think otherwise. Or was there? He never understood normal people. Well, (Y/n) wasn’t normal. A bit smarter than John anyways.
Sherlock followed after John to the living room, up the stairs but the second he got there he felt a deja vu got through him. There was something in here that was different. Something that was the same but not usually. It was the smell.
Sherlock walked further in the living room, his eyes wildly looking for something. John’s chair. There was a (h/c) strand of hair on the back of the chair, this meant she had sat there. Sherlock went towards the chair, John watching while Sherlock studied his arm chair. It was like on a crime scene.
”What are you doing?” John finally asked, making his way closer to his roommate.
Sherlock took a long whiff over the chair, his eyes flew open and he made a sharp turn. He gazed over the carpet, there were muddy but dried foot prints on it, but it hadn’t rained in days. So (Y/n) had been on the other side of the London these past few days.
”If nothing is going on then do enlighten me, why does it smell like you have been having a quest reeking of marijuana?”
”Oh boy…” John scratched the back of his head, his eyes fixing on the floor and then back to Sherlock. ”You see I kind of promised (Y/n) not to say anything to-”
”You’re not saying anything, I’m just assuming what has been going on, but even if you did promise her not to tell me don’t you think it’s your job to tell a patient’s family and friends if something is wrong?” Sherlock tried his hardest not to snap. He stood his back straight and arms behind his back, he hadn’t even taken his coat off.
”Yes, yes it is.” John felt a bit embarrassed for trying to hide something like this from his best friend. Form his best friend who obviously had feelings for the ’patient’ they were talking about.
”Out of all people!” Sherlock kicked a table from next to John’s chair. It flew over, crashing on the floor loudly. Sherlock walked around the room, his fingers twitching. He walked back and forth with his head lowered, like head as a third leg. He was cursing and muttering but John couldn’t make out all what he was saying. ”Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t she want to tell ME?” He hissed through gritted teeth.
”She knew how you would react.” John said calmly, trying not to provoke his friend into another rage quit. Sherlock gave John a confused look. Then he rolled his eyes and sighed. ”This is one of those emotional things, right?” John nodded, but then furrowed his eyebrows. ”I’m this situation is considered to be one of those emotional things too.” He made sure to press the word this.
”Why wouldn’t she tell me?” Sherlock repeated but this time he was asking it from John, not himself.
”Because she likes you.” John laughed. ”That’s what people do. They protect their loved ones by not telling if something is wrong.”
”That’s stupid.” Sherlock noted.
”Yes. It is.” John nodded. ”Very stupid.”
”She needs a way out.” Sherlock muttered when he had calmed down a bit.
”Yes, that was my plan all along. That is why I told her I’d be visiting her in tomorrow morning.” John explained, but kept his distance from his infuriated friend.
”It’s not just that. We have to do more. Going into her house and getting rid off the stuff doesn’t end it.”
”It’s nice that you know.” John said sarcastically smiling. ”But what can we do?”
”Oh I have a plan.” Sherlock said with a smirk.
BACK TO PRESENT
”We better follow him.” John said and nodded at the living room. You agreed, following John while he walked through your living room, towards your kitchen.
You noticed Sherlock had taken look of the stuff in the bag. It was now placed close to the edge of your kitchen table and the bag had been opened. He hadn’t even closed it fully. Now Sherlock was on his knees on your floor and went thorough the kitchen cabinets.
”What are you doing?” You snapped.
”There’s always a cache.” Sherlock muttered, his finger going over the doors and opening every door that was able to be opened.
”They’re all in the bag. There is no more! Get up!” You snapped again, giving a soft kick to the bottom of his shoe.
”I know there is a hiding in here somewhere now shut up (Y/n) and do not make this worse than it is!” Sherlock snapped over his shoulder. It was then that you realized how hard it was for him. He had to deal with his problems but not for him, for you. And the worst was, the problem wasn’t his it was yours.
”There.” Sherlock gasped, his fingers ripping one of the lockers front off, it was one for the lockers that didn’t open because the front of it fell off all the time. It was a perfect place to hide your stash, well John Watson wouldn’t had found it that is.
”Are you serious?” John looked at the bag in Sherlock’s hands. It was a rather full one and it hadn’t been not once opened. Sherlock gave the bag to John, taking his phone from his pocket and starting to text.
”Who are you texting to?” You asked, your eyes dancing between Sherlock and John. John kept looking at the bag while Sherlock tapped the screen of his phone. After you heard the sound that told you the text had been sent Sherlock turned to you with a smile.
”There.” He said, then letting the smile disappear as fast as it appeared. He walked next to you, taking the bag from John’s hands and the one on the table. ”Try now and go buy some more.” He said.
”What did you do?” You asked.
”I just sent a message to my homeless network to get in touch with me if they see you even near a drug dealer.” Sherlock took a threatening, intimidating step closer to you, towering you and continued. ”And believe me if I hear even a word of you I even considering buying any, I will be there and I will stop you.”
”You’re an ass.” You hissed which Sherlock answered with a sly smile.
”You provoked me by not telling me.” He hissed back.
”Okay, I’m taking these.” John announced, snatching the bags from Sherlock and walking past you two. This didn’t make you back away from the staring contest, but it took Sherlock off guard, his eyes looking for the lost drugs. Had he really wanted to take them for himself?
”Also I’ll head back to Baker Street, getting rid of these” John said lifting the bags in his hands. ”so if you want to come with me Sherlock, come now, other vise please don’t try to kill each other.” And with that he left.
”Aren’t you going after him?” You asked.
”No, because I think we need to talk.” Sherlock said seriously.
Imagine Sherlock and Watson finding out you use drugs and trying to help you to quit. (this will be two or three parted(also Sherlock has a thing for reader but it’ll show on the up coming part(s)(john and reader are gooooooooood friends))
Warnings: Mentions of drugs, drug use
I was one of those fine evenings when London was light beautifully, the streets quiet, more than usually but you could still hear a police car’s sirens in the distance. Sometimes this made you calm. The so familiar voices of traffic and people filling the air and echoing through your windows even when shut. You kept the blinds open enough to see glimpses of the outside world, the lights flashing between the little vinyl blinds, but not irritating your eyes.
You were sitting next to your window in your kitchen. You had only your living room’s light on, leaving the apartment dim. Your arm placed on the table, head resting on your palm. You were just enjoying the view, something you rarely did, but there was a reason for it. Usually so busy or unsocial you kept the curtains shut and were on your phone or computer when you had free time. You did go out at times, seeing friends and going for errands but never did you just sit and watch through the window when you had time.
Why were you sitting there doing nothing? The answer was written on your face and if someone would be dumb enough to not get the hint, the items on the table would give it away.
You’re eyes were droopy, your pupils at times constricted and then dilated. The sclera of your eyes had tinted light red but wasn’t so easy to point out. A silly yet tired smile on your lips, your lips paring at times let out a chuckle or even a laugh while you went through some memories in your head. You were on drugs, but not just any drugs, on one specific drug. You had cigarette wrappers on your table and along side with them a minigrip bag half way full of weed. There was also a lighter joined with the other items. Your other hand played with one already wrapped smoke, your eyes fixed on the traffic out side, watching closely as a police car sped by. Oh if they just knew.
Your phone on the table buzzed, moving an inch further away from you. The smile on your lips was spread wider when you took the phone in your hand. You let the smoke stay in your left hands fingers but carefully so the content in it wouldn’t spill out. You were not the best at wrapping smokes.
Your phone’s screen was already black when you got it on your hand. You opened the screen with one click and then saw the message, or rather who it was from. John Watson.
Hey, how are you? Haven’t seen you in a while. It would be nice to see you. JW
You smiled at the text. John had always been a good friend to you, well for as long as you’ve known him. He always greeted you with a smile, often saddened that you two spent time so rarely. You did feel like seeing people this night yes. You didn’t want to just sit here if you could have company as well. But you wanted to be sure for one thing.
I would love to, but I’m sure you wouldn’t want me there on your way, considering there has been that murderer going around London these past few days. You probably have your hands full with it already. (F/n) (L/n)
It didn’t take long for John to text back, he was always ready to text you and was better at texting than Sherlock. Even if Sherlock did prefer texting, he only texted if he needed something. John on the other hand would text you just to know what you’ve been up to or to see you just to spend time with you.
Sherlock is solving that one on his own, his been out for two hours now and I thought he might be away for the whole night. I mean it’s not as if you’re my second choose of company I just thought you’d like to come over for once to just sit and talk. JW
You laughed out loud at John’s adorable rambling. He was so sweet to you. You did know that he did have had feelings for you, but that had been cleared out in a rather awkward way. John had been trying to ask you out and Sherlock had stated that your whole existence showed you weren’t interested. John had argued he wasn’t interested either, he had only tried to be nice to you. You also thought he’s feelings had died soon after that and your relationship had stayed on friendship level. Both of you were happy of that.
Okay, I’ll just grab a cab and I’ll be on my way. (F/n) (L/n)
You took the one smoke with you when you got up. Your phone on your right hand and the smoke between your left hand’s thumb and index finger you left your flat. You had taken a hand bag with you just in case if you and John decided to go get take out and for to conserve your wallet of course.
You didn’t hurry with the cab, smoking in piece on the quiet street in front of your home building and once more eyeing the traffic.
The sky was filled with clouds, no stars showing. It was dark not considering the street lights and cars driving by and the air was cool, not even the littlest blow of wind going by. You had still clothed yourself well for the weather. You had a long and warm coat on and a scarf around your neck. Your boots reached only over your ankles but they were lined from the inside and kept your feet warm.
You finished your smoke, dropping it on the ground and then stepping on it. You called for a cab and climbed in, giving an address to the cabby. You texted John you were on your way and you would be there in about ten minutes or so.
The cab did take ten minutes precisely and you gave the driver a good tip for it. Also your state had some affect to your decisions. You were on a cheerful mood.
You climbed out of the cab, waving at the cabby when he drew off and turned your face towards the 221B apartment. The cafe next to the door was closed, a note on the door informing the reasons, but you didn’t quite care. A light shone from the next floor, from the kitchen window, but you knew the light was coming from the lamps in the living room that was considered as Sherlock’s office and study.
You smiled, chuckling and then climbed up the stairs to the door. You didn’t knock, knowing the door would be open and that Mrs. Hudson would be the one needing to answer the door. You didn’t want to bother the landlady, it was rather late already so you just walked in.
The hallway was dark like always, a light coming from up the stairs giving you enough to see around. You took your coat off and called for John, letting him know it was you on the door.
”I’m in here.” John’s voice called from the living room. You almost ran up the stairs which was odd since you hated stairs, but you were on a too good mood to care about stairs. You were happy to see people, John in this case and rushed to see him.
”Hey.” You said happily when you saw the back of John. John was clearing the table, probably cleaning it for you. Not for you to use but just so the place wouldn’t look as messy as it was. He turned around with a smile on his face that spread even wider when his eyes took in your presence.
”Hey!” He exclaimed as happy as you to finally see you and came to give you a hug. You giggled and hugged him back, your hands rubbing his warm and soft beige jumper. When John pulled away he had that one specific look on his face. The one that suspected something but was too nice to just blurt his thoughts out. ”What is that scent?” He finally asked.
You were fortunately too slow to react to his words, the feeling inside of you never making it to your face when you just kept smiling. Nonchalantly you shrugged and lied ”Oh, it’s my clothes.” You took a look of what you were wearing under the coat. A white shirt that was under a (f/c) dress shirt paired with black jeans. ”I left these on my balcony to air, but guess my neighbors have been smoking quite a lot.”
John nodded his head and let you sit on his arm chair. He offered you tea which you gladly accepted and in a minute were enjoying the warm cup. The porcelain cup warmed your cool fingers and the liquid steamed lightly. John sat next to the study table, not in Sherlock’s arm chair because he knew he wasn’t supposed to. Sherlock would notice if he’d been sitting in his chair in a second he’d come home.
”So, what you’ve been up to?” John asked with a smile.
”Nothing new.” You said truthfully. ”Just seeing friends at times, work (or school) and hobbies.” You gave John a warm smile. ”I’m sure you have been up to much more interesting subjects lately.” You hinted. You read his blog. You knew what he and Sherlock had been up to, but not even John told everything in his blog. The best stories came from John himself, not from his website.
John lowered his head and chuckled, then facing you again and fixing his position on the chair. ”Well, we have been busy.” He admitted. You laughed at his statement ’we’. ”But I guess you have been reading the blog and sadly I have nothing new to tell you. I’m sure you have had something interesting in your life too.” He reassured.
”Boring. That’s what my life has been lately.” You kept smiling, placing the empty cup on the tiny table next to the chair. You earned a chuckle from John.
”Sometimes I wish I could get bored.” He sighed but not sadly. More like he was humored by the fact. You gave out a loud laugh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. John gave you the look again. ”Are you okay?” He asked worriedly. You looked at him. Your eyebrows were high and eyes round, well as round as they got at this state, and waved your hand. ”Yeah, yeah.” you assured. ”I’m fine, I’m good, I’m great!”
”Good.” John didn’t actually believe you, his face kept the suspicious expression while he tried to smile calmly at you.
”So how’s Sherlock?” You asked and looked around the house. Your eyes didn’t move in your head, they stayed in place while your head moved. Your lips were parted, never closing for good and you looked like your face had frozen on a drunken state. This worried John.
”He’s been busy with the new case.” John answered. He wasn’t concentrating on his words or the subject of the conversation, but to you. How you moved, how you looked and even how you breathed. You didn’t look like you were breathing at all. ”(Y/n) are you really okay?” He asked again.
You let your head stop in his direction, eyes not moving, head tilted and smiled, nodding your head. ”Yes. I’m good.” You repeated.
”Yes, sure.” John laughed doubtingly and got up from his chair. ”You’re always acting this way.” He added with sarcasm which earned a puzzled but humored look from you. ”Your eyes lifeless, drunken smile, reeking of-” then John picked up on what was going on, the obvious which Sherlock would laugh at how it took him so long. ”Oh for christ sake, (Y/n)!” John snapped. With a permanent smile on your lips you asked ”What?” not even trying to hide your amusement.
”Are you high?” John asked with a red, angered face. You chuckled which turned to laughter. John groaned. He spaced around the living room. You could tell he was irritated. With Sherlock he could manage these kinds of problems but with you?
”Come on, John. You and I both know it’s not that bad. Besides it’s just a little bit. It’s not like I’ll get hooked.” This rubbed John the wrong way.
”Hooked? That is your excuse of using marijuana?” You didn’t like that he was yelling at you.
”I never said I’m high.” You proudly announced.
”Well it’s clear you are!” John took a step closer to you. ”Come on.” He said and took something out of his pocket. It was that thing doctors use to inspect the eyes of their patients. John took you chin to his left hand and flashed the light over your eyes. ”Yep.” He grit his teeth and stepped away, stuffing the thing in his pocket. ”You’re high.”
You shrugged. Wrong move.
”It’s not nothing (Y/n)!” John screamed. ”This is serious! How long have you been smoking?”
”How long?” He hissed.
”I don’t know. Can’t actually tell since I just smoke when I feel like it. Which is couple times a year.”
”Couple?” John pressured.
”Two, three?” You wondered. ”I don’t really know.”
”I can’t believe this…” John laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh that followed by something funny, it was his laughter of disappointment and irritation. ”Two. Not one, but two! I have to deal with two addicts and-” then John took a sharp turn and was again on your face. ”It’s Sherlock isn’t it?”
”He is giving you drugs!” John sounded so sure of it but unfortunately you had to crash his deduction.
”No. Of course it’s not Sherlock! You think he would even sell me drugs?” You got up from the couch, John taking a step back. ”I buy them with my own money from people I don’t know. That’s it.”
”So you’re worried what he’d say if he found out?” John wondered.
”I didn’t say that.” You said quietly. ”Besides it doesn’t matter what he says, he uses too, or has used at least. He has no say in this.”
”(Y/n) it doesn’t matter what Sherlock does, he makes bad decisions and you should be smarter than him.”
”Oh so Sherlock can make mistakes and play with fire but not me?”
”I didn’t say that, but still you should be smart enough not to do the same mistakes as he does.”
”I’m not copying him, John. I’ve been doing this longer than I’ve known Sherlock.” The expression on John’s face draining. You slipped information that wasn’t supposed to be said. ”No, I don’t mean-”
”So how long have you been doing this then?” John would never let this be now that he knew. He was a doctor for god’s sake. Why had you been so stupid and agreed on meeting with him? Well, you had been high, and yes, been or were, you weren’t sure anymore since you felt angry and hurt at the moment and it had taken it’s hold on you, suffocating the jolly feel you had.
”Does it really matter?” You snapped. So many thoughts went through your head at the moment and you weren’t keeping up with them.
”Of course it! I need to know what we’re dealing with so-”
”Dealing with?” You glared at the man before you.
”Yes, and don’t even think I’m going to leave this be. I will help you get rid of this bad addiction.” John said and too his phone to his hand. The color in your face drained and you turned pale, eyeing worriedly while his fingers worked on the phone’s screen.
”What are you doing?” You blurt out. Your body wasn’t moving. You were like paralyzed from fear of what John might do.
”I’m texting.” John said not lifting his gaze from the device in his hands.
”Sherlock.” Your heart stopped. No. He couldn’t tell him. He can’t tell Sherlock. He mustn’t know! You knew he had himself been a busy man with drugs, but you also knew he didn’t take it lightly if people around him did, well people he cared about that is.
”John, please don’t tell him.” You whispered. You took a slow soft step closer to John, John turning his face towards you, seeing how lost you were. ”I promise you I’ll stop, but please, please don’t tell Sherlock.”
It took you two an hour to calm down. John promised not to tell Sherlock and you believed him. He called you a cab after you told him how you got your hands on drugs in the first place, told him why and how often you used, and as you had already told him wasn’t much. John walked you out and stayed at the side of the street with you waiting for the cab. You were glad he understood you. Or at least tried.
The cab stopped on the other side of the street and a man stepped out. It was a tall man, in trench coat with dark brown curly hair and a blue scarf around his neck. There was no doubt who it was. It was no other than Sherlock.
You knew you reeked of marijuana so you greeted him fast, not going close to him and hurried to the cab. Sherlock greeted you the same way and walked across the street to John.
”I’ll come by your house tomorrow morning, (Y/n).” John called loudly on the other side. He knew you wouldn’t start arguing now that Sherlock was here, he’d get suspicious and want to get to the bottom of it. John was playing dirty. He’d want to come by your place to do a drug bust.
You glared at his way before stepping into the cab, but coldly agreed. ”Sure, I’ll see you then.” And with that you left.
”What was that about?” Sherlock turned to John and asked.
”Oh, nothing.” John tried. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him.
”You sure?” He asked. John turned and went to the door, opening it for him and Sherlock, them both entering the building.
I used to be pretty, when you thought I was,
I’m not pretty anymore because you never compliment me,
I’m not good anymore because you don’t talk to me as often.
I’m sorry and I’m sorry..
It’s not as if things are going horribly;
I could go either way any minute, and I was trying so hard to be healthy until I heard you were back on drugs and I decided I didn’t care about life anymore I just want to relapse and I did,
I was trying to beat my eating disorder because you said I wasn’t healthy, but then I heard
you liked skinny girls
I wanted to wake up to see the sun rise and stay up to see it set until I saw you slept most of the day away
I was going to get a GED until you went to college
I was good before you said you liked bad.
I was bad until you said I was good. I’m so sorry.
You woke up almost three hours after Lena left for work, alone and in an immense amount of pain. Your sore muscles seemed to scream with effort as you sat up and looked around the familiar bedroom. After a few seconds, you eyes landed on the pill bottle sticking out of your bag and you drug yourself to your good foot in order to retrieve it and take one of the small blue tablets. As you trudged into the bathroom on your crutches, memories of the previous night shot through your mind and you winced when you looked at the shower. God, Lena must think you’re completely weak.
After brushing your teeth and doing your best to wash your face without putting too much pressure on the bruises that mar your features, you head out into the main area of the well furnished apartment and collapsed onto Lena’s couch with a muffled string of swear words. Doing anything hurt, but you were too restless to simply lay in bed all day. After a few minutes of trying to figure out which remote would get you to Lena’s Netflix account, you laid back and prepared to binge as the pill you took earlier began releasing painkillers into your system.
Lena couldn’t focus. She had always been at the top of her game when it came to running a business, but every time she glanced up from her desk and saw yours through the window, she thought of a million scenarios where you were somehow in danger. By 9:00, she had already snapped at two employees and accidentally sealed an envelope with the wrong contracts inside of it.
By 10:00, she had resorted to clicking a pen over and over again and bouncing her leg under the desk to try to get out the nervous energy surging through her veins. Finally, she grabbed her phone off of her desk and quickly punched in ten digits.
“Kara,” the CEO bit her bottom lip and leaned back in her chair, “are you busy at the moment?”
“I just finished up an expose for Snapper; not that he’ll like it. Do you need something? Is everything okay?”
“Is there any possibility…that you could swing by my apartment and check on Y/N?”
“This is your first day back at work, huh?”
There’s understanding in Kara’s voice and Lena is overly grateful for it.
“I’ll pop over; no problem. If anything is wrong, I’ll give you a call.”
“Thank you so much,” Lena let out a long breath and with it went most of the tension she was holding in her chest. “I’ll never be able to repay me for everything you’ve done for me.”
“Buy me pot-stickers sometime and we’ll call it even.”
Lena found herself smiling slightly as the other line clicked and she hung up the phone with a bit less anxiety than she had picked it up with.
“Y/N?” Kara knocked on the door and pulled her glasses down the bridge of her nose so that she could see into the apartment. Your form was sprawled across the couch under a blanket and your eyes were shut. The blonde put her glasses back on straight and knocked a little louder. After some shuffling inside and the click of crutches on hardwood, the door opened and despite her lingering skepticism, Kara smiled at you.
“Supergirl,” you noted in surprise. Part of you had expected to find Lillian standing there with a gun and a couple of thugs. “Let me guess; Lena sent you?”
“She called me, yeah,” Kara admitted. You shuffled to the side so that she could come in and shut the door behind her.
“Well, I’m not dead.”
“I can see that,” Kara replied. “So…how are you feeling?”
“Like shit. Shouldn’t you be out saving the world or something?”
“I’m not expecting another crisis til this evening, so I’ve got some time to kill. What are we watching?”
To your surprise, Kara marched into the living room and collapsed onto the couch where you were sitting. After a second of hesitation, you hobbled over and sat down next to her.
“Ooh, I love Grey’s! Everyone always says that Meredith’s little sister looks exactly like my sister, Alex.”
“Why are you being so nice?” you asked as you pressed play again. Kara frowned as if she was confused.
“What do you mean?”
“We both know that you don’t like me.”
“That’s not true! I mean,” Kara sighed and straightened her glasses, “Lena cares about you so much. She was devastated before we found you. Just because you have a bad past doesn’t mean I don’t think you can change.”
“And what if I can’t?”
The question slipped out of your mouth quietly and you averted your eyes to the screen.
“You can,” Kara offered assurance instead of a threat, which caught you off guard. You began to play with your hands as you felt yourself getting emotional. Your painkillers were starting to fade.
“Kara, I don’t know how I’m supposed to…to open up to her when her mother did all of this. She keeps trying to talk to me about it and I feel like I’m going to hurt her if I say anything.”
“Do you want to talk about it now? Maybe figure out what you want to say?” Kara suggested. You glanced away from the TV and chewed on your bottom lip.
“I don’t even know what to say,” you shrugged. “I know they sent videos to her. She saw some of what happened.”
“Yeah, she did. Y/N, I’ve been at Lillian’s mercy before. I know what she’s like; how she gets in her head.”
“She…she was pretty adamant about the fact that Lena doesn’t…doesn’t care about me. That she was just using me for sex, or something.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
“No,” you started, “at least I don’t want to. But, Lena is herself and I’m…just some drifter.”
Lillian’s voice rings in your ears, saying the same words.
“You’re done drifting, aren’t you?”
“Then, that’s not true. Lillian was doing everything she could to break you down in every way possible. And, if you believe those things she told you, then she’s going to think she won.”
“You’re right,” you admitted. Kara clasped her hands together and did a little head wiggle.
“I feel like I should do something for her. She’s been so good to me and I know she doesn’t expect anything back, but…she deserves something.”
“Hmm,” Kara’s brow furrowed as she slipped deep into thought, “I know! You could make her dinner?”
“I’m not the best cook, but I can do breakfast food. Is that stupid?”
“No! Everyone likes breakfast!” Kara exclaimed. “This is perfect; Lena will be so surprised. I can fly to the store and get ingredients.”
“That has to be nice,” you stated with a hint of amusement. “You probably never worry about forgetting things at home.”
“Yeah, being from outer space has its perks.”
By five, both you and Kara had watched as much Grey’s Anatomy as you could handle and she flew off and returned with bags of groceries within 20 minutes. The blonde had asked several times if you needed help with anything and after assuring her multiple times, Kara went on her way and left you to your own devices.
After managing to get everything you needed to make a less than impressive spread of eggs, toast, bacon, and pancakes, you started to feel a little woozy on your feet. Between not having eaten all day and the effects of coming down off of your medication, standing for prolonged periods of time left you a little winded and disoriented. You took a few minutes to lean back against the kitchen counter and breathed as deeply as you could without jarring your ribs too badly.
You can do this. It’s just cooking.
The two sentences repeated several times in your head and you put your weight on your crutches again. It bothered you that something so simple seemed so daunting, and you clenched your jaw in determination before turning the stove on. You had half an hour, tops, til Lena was home considering she told you she was definitely leaving the office by no later than five.
Soon enough, you had three pans sizzling on the stove and a plate of pancakes staying warm in the oven. The heat from the burners had you feeling more lightheaded than ever, but the sound of the front door opening snapped you back into focus. Lena couldn’t know that you were struggling.
“In the kitchen,” you called. Even pushing that hard with your diaphragm took your breath away. You steadied yourself on the counter and then yanked one of the pans off of the stove. Without looking, you dumped it’s contents onto a plate and felt grease scald your wrist in a few places. Lena walked into the kitchen while your face was contorted with pain.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“I wanted to do something for you,” you explained as you flipped one of the eggs in the other pan over and spun around on your crutches as the toaster went off. Lena walked into the kitchen with wide eyes as you continued trying to grab all of the food before it burned.
“Y/N, you look like your about to—“ Lena caught you by the arm as you lost your balance for a second and took the plate of toast from your hand. You caught her gaze for a few seconds, a little ashamed at how weak you were, and then put yourself back on your good foot.
“I’m fine,” you muttered.
“This is…so sweet,” she admitted. Despite her strong need to want to do everything for you, she watched as you managed to save all of the food from burning and put it all on plates.
“Well, dig in,” you urged finally.
“Y/N, you really didn’t have to do all of this…”
“I wanted to,” you replied quickly. Your head was starting to spin again and you wished desperately for a breath of fresh air. You hobbled over to the kitchen table and took a few immensely painful deep breaths in order to clear your head. It didn’t help much. You put your crutches on the floor as gently as you could.
“Here,” Lena set a plate in front of you and then took her own seat. Your stomach still churned, but you smiled at her anyway. She looked ecstatic to see you and it did something for the incredible agony plaguing your senses.
“So,” you started weakly, “how is your new assistant?”
“Not nearly as beautiful, or smart, or wonderful as my old one.”
“So hard to find good help these days.”
“Y/N, you look pale. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you reassured her. You could barely keep your eyes open.
“Well, I’m sorry I was late—“
Lena’s voice cut off as you clutched your ribs as a tremor of pain shot through them. You were so close to losing consciousness and you were so desperate not to. The pills in the bedroom shot through your mind. You should have taken them.
The End demonstrates perfectly how much in tune they were with each other as a band (Ringo too). I’ve heard that during the recording of this, Yoko followed John in to the studio (as per normal) but John stopped her and asked her to wait outside so that this was recorded with just the three guitars and the drums present. Just the Beatles.
#Repost @rocknroll_is_my_drug with @repostapp
Did you know that 3 of the Beatles played during the guitar solos in ‘The End’? This video shows you when each member is playing and how seamlessly they were able to blend their sound together.
my mind is all fucked up,
but not from the drugs,
from the way
you let me love you,
the way you let me
believe in fairytales
and happy endings,
then destroyed any shred of hope
left in my veins,
you filled my lungs
and held my body
when it collapsed
of utter exhaustion,
you left me itching
for the sensation
that you made me feel
until you got bored,
and left me with
nothing but a
tear stained pillow
and a heartache that
i will never forget
hmm how do you think realm transportation works? like we see them either able to make their own portals or jump into a cloest or just take a train. its really interesting to me.
well we know it depends on how many chromosomes they have so maybe it’s like a level based thing? (i know that sounds stupid but bare with me.) like if you only have a small amount of chromosomes, you can only go to certain realms, like ones that are relatively lame and easily accessible (hence the simplicity of a train.) but if you have a TON of chromosomes then you can develop magical powers that help you create portals or almost anything (ex Chin Chin and “Real” Frank) so that’s why Chin Chin tries so hard to get as many chromosomes as possible. because he wouldn’t be a “god” without them.