I’M BACK FROM THE DEAD. The show actually gave me something to work with! I was disappointed with what they did with Connor’s dad(s), so I decided to spice it up. The coming out headcanon came from a previous fic I wrote (season 3 finale coda,) but this can be read separately. Trigger warning for self harm/suicidal thoughts. Enjoy!
“So he just showed up
out of nowhere?” Gemma asked, voice tinny due to the phone.
“Apparently, he tried to call me a bunch. I took one look at
the number and blocked it.” Connor said, lounging on the couch, the half empty
bottle of pinot noir staring back him on the coffee table.
“Why would he want to
see you anyway?”
“I may have dropped out of law school and wasted his
thirty-two thousand,” Connor said, trying to get the words out as quick as
“You did what?!?!
Connor, when you tell mom she’s gonna–”
“If. If I tell
mom. But something tells me Jeff
already did,” spat Connor.
“What are you gonna do
now, then? You can’t just laze around at home,” Gemma chastised, using her
best Mom voice.
“I dunno, I think I’m pretty good at it now.”
“Connor seriously, you
“Gem. Not now. Please, I get this lecture from enough
“Fine. But you’re not
moving here when your money runs out.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Connor flinched as he heard a loud crash coming from the
other line, followed by an extremely frustrated sigh from his sister.
“I gotta go parent.
Remember what I said. Talk to you soon.”
“Talk to you soon, love you,” Connor muttered, hanging up
the phone. He sighed and rubbed his face. He was doing fine, and then Jeff
decided to waltz back into his life. It’s not like he was there for him when he
needed it, so why was he trying to act all Concerned Parent with him now.
Connor felt a migraine form behind his eyes, remembering what he said about
Oliver. How dare he say that Oliver wasn’t right for him? How dare he act like
he knew what was best for Connor. Where was he when Connor had a panic attack
and sunk to the floor? Where was he when he watched a dead body fall five
stories and splatter on concrete? Where was he when—
Oliver’s bright voice rang in the living room, snapping
Connor out of his thoughts. Though he was exhausted, he couldn’t hide the smile
that grew on his face, seeing Oliver in that tacky purple IT shirt.
“What harm would it do, if a man told a good strong lie for the sake of the good and for the Christian church…a lie out of necessity, a useful lie, a helpful lie, such lies would not be against God, he would accept them.” - Martin Luthor
Well, founder-of-Protestantism, I’ll tell you what harm there is, all with this thing called D.A.R.E.
You may not have grown up with Drug Abuse Resistance Education (
) programs in your school, but I did. DARE was a mix of just-say-no pablum, extreme scare stories about drugs and out-and-out lies about drugs and addiction. Just once will make you an addict. You’ll have flashbacks forever. Pot is a gateway drug. That sort of thing.
I remember a mustachioed cop ranting at us at an assembly, pacing up and down, huffing and puffing and growling down at us with a look of utter contempt in his eyes as he regaled us with a story about two kids who were huffing paint and wound up in comas. “We call them Gumby and Poker.” he said with a sort of sadistic glee, getting Pokey’s name wrong in the process of telling what was probably an abject lie. It was one of the earliest times I recognized that an adult could be, and probably was, full of shit.
See, the thing is,
had good intentions. PCP, heroin, huffing and others are all are life-endangering drugs. However, because they lied, for the cause, vilifying even the lightest drugs in an effort to keep us far, far away from all of them. And when kids found out that they’d lied, exaggerated, and tried to scare them, they threw the whole kit-and-caboodle in the waste basket.
Hey, i really adore your writing skill.. I have
an idea about spencer, maybe he is in relationship with the reader, but he
always hurt her, maybe about his secret about drugs and cheating with maeve.
The reader and spencer are in love each actually, and I hope for happy ending,
i dont mind if you make this to be a multi shots story.. i’m sorry about this
weird request and my grammar, because english isnt my language.. I know you
will make it to be a good story, i love u :)
A/N: Thank you soo much I love you too! And don’t worry it’s better than I could do in any other language! It’s kind of sad and I hope
you don’t hate me for it. I feel like this is what would happen with Spencer if
this was the situation ya know? I think I got what you wanted but if not I hope
you enjoy it anyway!xx
You loved Spencer.
Loved him more than anyone you’d ever met, but he had hurt you more than anyone
ever had before.
You’d been together on
and off for 4 years and Spencer lied to you about his drug addiction. You’d
worked through it together and had been able to help him get clean and stay
clean. Many times Spencer had almost relapsed you’d been there.
When Emily died and he
almost fell back into addiction. You sat with him at
3am while he cried and helped him get rid of the last vial of Dilaudid he’d
stashed. He was vulnerable and weak. In that moment of weakness you vowed that
nothing he could ever do would drive you away from him. There would never be a
moment you wouldn’t be there to hold him whenever he would need you.
And then he began to
be distant. Mysterious phone calls and letters; you knew there was someone
else. His eyes looked the same as they used to, when they looked at you.
“Spencer I’m leaving”
you stood at the door with as many clothes as you could fit in your bags.
“Why?” he looked hurt but
he wasn’t upset.
“Because I’m not
whoever she is Spencer, I see the way you act when you’ve spoken to her, it’s
the way we used to look at each other. I promised I would always be there when
you need and I will keep my promise. But I can’t be second best.”
You left that
day and didn’t hear from him for weeks. Every night you laid awake waiting for
his call but it never came.
The phone rang at
4:15am. You let it ring once, if this was Spencer you knew he’d call again. The
phone rung once more and you grabbed your shoes. You didn’t answer it you just went to his house.
You arrived to find
his door open. He was lying on his couch surrounded by needles, drugs and 3 whiskey bottles. Watching his movements you saw him shaking, he wasn’t
“What happened Spence?”
You didn’t move from the doorway, just stood watching him.
“She died. The only
woman I loved died” your heart shattered. Tears trickled down your cheeks the
taste of salt invaded your breath as you inhaled you tears. Would he be like
this if it’d of been you. “I haven’t used yet Y/N but I thought I might and I
knew you’d be there if I needed you.” He finally looked at you. His eyes
widened as he saw your face. “Y/N?” you reached over to the bottles on the
table and grabbed the one that was half full. You drunk all of it and pushed
him out of the way so you could sit next to him. Grabbing his arms you pulled
him into a warm embrace, his hair brushing against your neck.
“Why were you crying
Y/N?” his breath warm along your back.
“Please don’t Spence.
I can’t talk to you right now without it hurting. Just hug me and talk.”
He told you everything
that had happened. At some points he stopped when he felt your tears fall onto
“I will always be here
Spence” you grabbed another bottle of whiskey off of the counter and drunk as
much as you could, you didn’t want to remember this feeling, it hurt too much.
He hurt you so much
but you couldn’t live without him.
“My girlfriend’s mad at me. She lied to me about men, so I lied to her about drugs.” “You think she’s cheating on you?” “No, but she looks at other guys.” “That’s it?” “Yeah, but eye to eye, you know? You know what’s up, right?” “Or maybe you’re imagining and exaggerating things.” “I could be exaggerating.” “Because you’re jealous.” “I am jealous.” “And possessive.” “I am possessive. I told her, ‘You’re mine, yo. You’re my woman. Rrrrrrrrr!’”
Bill Cosby spent the past twenty years telling Black America we ain’t shit, basically. He was America’s Dad for half the 80s and the entire industry held him up as a role model. White America particularly loved Bill Cosby because he kept telling us all the things they secretly thought but couldn’t say: Pull your pants up, don’t put apostrophes in your children’s names, etc. All the while, he was assaulting women. Charlie Sheen ain’t ever been shit. If anything, we expect him to continue to not be shit. White America is disappointed with Bill Cosby in a way that they could never be disappointed with (or surprised by) Charlie Sheen.
If your cousin with straight As and a scholarship to Harvard got arrested for selling heroin you’d be a lot more disappointed than if your crackhead cousin who steals TVs was doing the same thing.
That’s why the public/entertainment industry is more upset with Bill Cosby assaulting 50 women over the course of three decades than they are with Charlie Sheen having sex while not disclosing his HIV status the past four years.