#Comforts moms and families who have lost kids to gun violence

[fandomficsnstuff]

Worth It

(Warnings: Oh boy, this is a heavy one, my dear lovelies… blood, angst, death, violence, the whole package, sorry my dears<3)

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Daisy wasn’t shaking anymore when the man kneeled down in front of her and Carl, his eyes locked on them, on their interlocked hands, a smirk spreading across his lips “well well, got ourselves a little Romeo and Juliet here, don’t we?”

“Juliet was thirteen while Romeo was between about seventeen” Daisy snapped, her heart starting to race as he raised his eyebrows at her “well I’ll be damned. You paid a lot of attention at school or something?”

“Negan, sir-” that woman from before spoke up, Negan looking up at her “what, Krystall?”

“Sir, I just-... that’s-... that’s my daughter-”

“That’s your little girl??”

“Yes, sir…”

“Well, her fire sure as shit didn’t come from you” he muttered with venomous amusement, looking back at Daisy, narrowing his eyes “she doesn’t look like you. She takes after her father?”

“No… her grandmother… o-on my side” Krystall admitted hesitantly, Negan humming “well, she’s a fiery little thing…” he muttered to himself before looking up at Krystall “oh, you were hoping by telling me that she’s your daughter that she wouldn’t be one of these poor sacks of shit who’s going to have their head caved in by Lucille?” he asked with a smirk, Krystall seeming to pale a bit at his words as she nodded a little “yes, sir. If-... please… She has a damn mouth on ‘er, always have, but she don’t mean nothin’ by it-”

“Speak for yourself” Daisy snapped, Negan looking back at her with a big grin “damn, you kiss your mother with that mouth of yours?” he asked teasingly and Daisy scoffed, glaring up at Krystall with utter hatred “I don’t have a mom. At least not one that’s her” she stated with anger, glaring up at Krystall who seemed… heartbroken… for some reason that Daisy couldn’t understand. “Shit, you are a spiteful little thing, aren’t you? Well, just so you know, I don’t appreciate little brats talking back to their parents-”

“I never talked back to my parents, just to her. Unlike her, my dad actually gave a shit about me… even though he realized it like eleven years later” she muttered the last part bitterly, glancing at Carl who gave her hand a tight squeeze of comfort. “Who was your dad? Is it this guy over there? I saw the way he almost got up when he saw you.”

“That’s her deadbeat uncle-”

“‘Deadbeat’?! Look who’s talking! He saved my life the day all of this started while you were too busy getting high and having sex with a stranger. You were even too busy to notice that I took the gun from under the sink. And your pills. And packed a bag and left!” Daisy snapped, her eyes glaring at Krystall and if looks could kill, she would have died that day in the apartment, that day that Daisy was talking about now. “Baby, listen, I-”

“Now you want to talk? That’s a shocker, since you barely acknowledged my existence unless it was to beat my ass or yell at me” she muttered, scoffing at the pleading looks in her eyes. “It’s like a little family reunion, how nice. But, let me tell you one thing right now, sweetheart, I don’t appreciate the way you’re speaking to your mother-”

“Stop calling her that.”

“In fact, I don’t appreciate it at all. She’s your mother and you will speak to her as such-”

“I’ll treat her like she treated me, that’s all she’ll ever get from me.”

“Shit, girl, I’m really trying not to get attached to you but you’re making it DAMN hard on me” Negan stated with utter amusement and she narrowed her eyes at him with slight confusion “you are adorable in the most psychopathic way possible. Damn!” Negan shouted with a large grin as he got up “shit. Lost my point for a moment there. Where was I?... Right!” he kneeled back down again when he seemed to remember, smirking at Carl “you got a lot of our guns…” he was still smirking as he stared Carl down, kneeling down in front of him as Carl stared right back at him “shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little” Negan taunted, chuckling quietly and briefly as he got up, tucking Carl’s gun into the front of his pants, covering it with his leather jacket as he walked off, Carl turning to look at Daisy who in turn looked at him, letting out a shaky breath, their eyes locked.

‘We’re gonna be okay’ was what his look said, Daisy affording him a tiny smile. ‘I know.’

As he threatened to kill Maggie, Glenn jumped forward, everything happening all at once and Daisy felt her heart race even more, her lungs begging for air as though they had been deprived of it for years now, her palms sweaty and she looked over to her uncle, her eyes a little wide and she noticed how heavy his breaths were, chest heaving up and down heavily, as though he debated getting up too, Negan’s words were distant and muffled, as though her head was underwater, the only grounding force being Carl’s hand tightly holding hers and she looked over at Maggie, how sick she looked, like she could barely stop herself from crumbling to the ground and dying. Her free hand reached up and began to scratch behind her ear, scratching at the small scar there and Carl frowned at her. He wondered if he should stop her but instead he let her, squeezing her other hand a little tighter in an effort to ground her a little.

She was the only one he didn’t point his bat at as he tried to choose someone, a smirk on his lips as he settled in front of Abraham. As he swung his bat, she didn’t even flinch, her eyes wide as she stared at the ground in front of her, her hand having stopped scratching behind her ear, her entire body felt numb, she could barely feel Carl’s hand squeezing hers. She had relied on Abraham to ‘read’ people. She knew he had military experience and so she thought he had good instincts about people, and she was right. She might not have known him as long as she had known Carl or Maggie, but he was family.

He was family.

And now… now he wasn’t anything anymore, nothing but a corpse without a head on the ground…

As he taunted Rosita, Daryl sprung up, clocking him in the jaw and Daisy got up, trying to run to him, to help, to do something, when someone grabbed her from behind, holding her back as Daryl was pinned to the ground and she sobbed, crying out for him as the guy with Daryl’s own crossbow appeared, pointing it at Daryl’s head. “Want me to do it? Right here?-”

“NO!! No! NO!” Daisy fought against whoever was holding her, the thought of watching that arrow go through his head… she let out a scream as her horror turned to rage and she fought against the grip of whoever held her, turning around, intending to do something, anything, knock her head forward and into their nose, bite them, wiggle free and scratch them, but she halted when she saw who it was that was holding her back. She let out a shaky breath of shock as she looked up at her, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shook her head “no!” she screamed, trying to get out of her grasp as she turned around to look at Daryl again. Her heart was racing so fast she thought her body would collapse, unable to keep up with it. “No. No, you don’t kill that. Not until you try a little. Get him back in line” he ordered, Daryl being dragged back in line and Negan turned to look at Krystall who was still holding Daisy back. “Your little girl’s got some fire in her, Krystall. I like that. Get her back in line before she meets Lucille” he ordered casually and Krystall struggled a little but eventually managed to get Daisy back on her knees in the dirt next to Carl, who instantly wrapped an arm around her, partly to comfort her, partly to hold her back from standing up again. As Negan’s bat met with Glenn’s skull she screamed, trying to scramble over to him but Carl held her back, both of them shaking with horror and utter anger as he taunted them before continuing to beat Glenn’s head in until it was practically soup. Daisy buried her face in Carl’s neck yet her head was still turned as she watched him beat Glenn further, shaking like a leaf as the sounds of the beating turned to squelching, nothing solid left except the ground.

As he grabbed Rick, she held on even tighter to Carl, her eyes still locked on the ground where Glenn’s body was, staring at the bloodied earth, she could see his brains, the fragments of his skull, her eyes locked on one of his eyes that had popped out, shock and disbelief and numbness coursing through her all at once, she flinched when the RV door was slammed shut and they drove off, her heart still racing. Not long after the RV was gone, soft footsteps approached her, kneeling down to her level. “Baby?... Delilah?... Please, look at me, baby” Krystall almost begged, Daisy slowly raising her head to look at her, straight in the eyes, unshed tears clouding her vision but she saw her. She saw her clearer now than ever. “Baby, you have to know, I-... it had to be done. He wasn’t family like I am. I’m your mom… baby, I love you, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise, just-... do what Negan says, okay?” she asked softly, her heart silently breaking as Daisy just continued to stare at her. A tear rolled down Daisy’s cheek and Krystall sighed softly “oh, baby” she reached out to wipe the tear from her face when Daisy leaned back and out of her reach. “Baby, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise-”

“I know you won’t. Not anymore, you won’t. You’re too much of a coward to put your hands on me now that I can fight back” Daisy stated in a disturbingly calm voice, tilting her head at her as a few more tears ran down her cheeks. “I loved Abraham, I loved Glenn, he’d been there from the start… he was my friend, he was family” she stated in a soft voice “I love Rick. I love my uncle Daryl. I love Maggie, she’s pregnant and sick and she was Glenn’s wife. I love all of them… I love Sasha and Eugene and Rosita. Aaron is my friend. They’re all family” she stated calmly, more tears silently running down her cheeks “do you know what that makes you?” she asked calmly, her voice even and calm as she tilted her head to the other side as she kept looking up at Krystall “it just makes you a ghost. Just like daddy was… but unlike you, daddy realized it… do you know how he died, momma?... He died for me… he wasn’t a good man, I know that, I’m not stupid or naïve, I never was. But he died for me and uncle Daryl. He loved me… he died doing what he thought would save me and my family… and that’s more than you’ve ever done for me. Since all the world went to shit, he and uncle Daryl protected me… while you were busy getting high and fucking a stranger” Daisy spoke the last words with spite, the truth like venom on her tongue, a look of anger finally settling over her features. “Do you still get high, momma? Or did it only take the end of the world to get you clean?”

“Baby, I-...”

“Are you clean?”

“Yes, baby, so please-... please-”

“Please what? The only way you got clean was there was no one left to hook you up… it wasn’t your daughter that you got clean for, it was yourself” Daisy stated once more in a calm voice, studying the heartbroken look on Krystall’s face, and maybe she should have felt something. Anything. Regret over how she was treating her. Guilt for her words, perhaps? Sorrow for the tears she caused? But she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything other than rage. She was acting as though she had the right to treat her like she was her daughter. “You might be my mother, but you’re not my mom” Daisy added in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, Krystall’s lower lip trembling and she sniffled “baby, please, forgive me.. I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry” she nearly sobbed and Daisy’s look of rage faltered a little, showing a hint of sympathy and Krystall seemed to see this, reaching out for Daisy, cupping her cheek in her hands “please, baby, I’m so sorry…” she whispered, her thumbs stroking her cheeks in a motherly way and Daisy felt her heart flip. She had never touched her like this. Like a mother would. She was lucky she even survived childhood with how much she didn’t care about her. Not that it mattered to Daisy back then. She did all she could to try and earn a love she knew wasn’t there. She brought home arts and crafts works from the few times she made it to school, the few times she didn’t have to spend the day cleaning up after her mother’s binge the night before while she was passed out somewhere. She gave her homemade cards on Mother’s Day and her birthdays, one time she even tried to bake a cake, though she was eight and it was filled with eggshells, but all Krystall did was scold and yell at her for taking money from her to buy the ingredients and for asking a neighbor about a recipe and asking them to help her shop the ingredients.

“You might as well shoot me, momma, because if you don’t… I’ll come for you. I’ll find you and I’ll find a way of getting my blood into yours, and then we’ll see if it can work that way too” she stated calmly yet there was a hint of shakiness to her voice as she stared up at her, her gaze hardening as Krystall frowned “we’ll see if I can be a monster, too” she whispered bitterly, just as the RV pulled up and the door was swung open, Daisy looked away from Krystall, not noticing the tears in her eyes as she looked at her daughter, all that spite was aimed at her, and it was completely her own fault. Krystall was hesitant to follow Negan’s order about putting guns to their heads, her eyes darting between Daisy and Negan and he smirked when he saw this “are you hard of hearing, Krystall?”

“No, sir, I just-... y-you meant-”

“You know what, Krystall? You’re a damn fine soldier and you do what I say, when I say and how I say and I like that, so I’m going to throw you a little treat. If your little princess there can sit still for the remainder of this little lesson, I might just let you take her back home” Negan stated tauntingly, Krystall unable to hide her relief as she nodded “thank you-”

“Like hell I’ll go anywhere with her!”

“Delilah!” Krystall hissed with fear, Daisy scoffing “what? He said ‘sit still’, not ‘shut the fuck up’” she stated harshly, Krystall looking at Negan who nodded “fair point” he got up and walked over, kneeling down in front of her, pointing the bloody barbed bat at her face, his face the embodiment of anger and danger “now shut the fuck up” he stated in a dark voice and Daisy glared at him but didn’t say anything, making him smirk “there we go” he muttered to himself as he got up and walked away.

“Kid, future serial killer, come here” he stated with a smirk, Daisy’s eyes widening and she turned to look at Carl, holding his hand tightly “kid. Now” Negan ordered and Carl looked at Daisy who was already shaking her head “I’m okay, it’s okay” he whispered, about to get up and walk closer when she held onto his hand, making Carl look at her again. “It’s okay” he whispered again and she hesitantly let go, nodding her head a little, watching him as he got closer to Negan, her heart beating harder than ever, she almost thought it’d beat out of her chest, that everyone could hear it race in her chest, beating loudly like a drum. “Are you a southpaw?”

“Am I a what?”

“Are you a lefty?”

“No.”

“Good” Negan stated as he began to wrap his belt around Carl’s left upper arm, Daisy’s eyes widening as she began to shake her head, her heart racing and he looked over his shoulder at her before looking back at Negan when he spoke “that hurt?”

“No.”

“It should. It’s supposed to. All right” he stated once he was done wrapping his belt around Carl’s arm “get down on the ground, kid. Next to daddy. Spread them wings” he ordered, Daisy on the verge of getting up and hurrying over to do… something… except it’d probably make everything worse. It was torture to sit still and watch as Carl laid down on the ground as told as Negan threw his hat somewhere behind him. She watched in horror as Rick was forced to cut Carl’s arm off… Negan counting down, Rick sobbing as he hesitantly lifted the ax, as though he had a choice, when Daisy finally screamed out. “I’M IMMUNE!! TAKE ME!! I’M IMMUNE!” she screamed loudly, tears streaming down her face “I’m immune! I can cure anyone who has been bit or scratched! I’ll give you that. I’ll give you that” she begged, body shaking as tears ran down her cheeks “I have proof, I’m immune, I can prove it, just please-... we understand! We all understand! Rick too! He understands! We all do! Just please-... please” she begged, lower lip trembling as Negan looked at her, a smirk growing on his lips as he looked up at Krystall “you knew this shit?” he asked, Krystall already shaking her head when Daisy beat her to it “no, why the fuck would she know??... I’m immune, I can prove it. You said you have a great doctor, right? Take me to him, take me to him, please. You won’t ever have to worry about being bitten or scratched again, no one will if you don’t want them to, you decide, okay? You have me. You have the cure. Imagine what you could do with that! Just-... please… please” she begged, looking between a distraught Rick and Carl on the ground, his eyes locked with hers and she let out a shaky breath before looking up at Negan “do what you want with me. Poke me with needles, take my blood, whatever you need, whatever you want, just-... please” she whispered, but he heard it, she could see it by the way he smirked even more. “And how do I know you’re not lying, hm?”

“I can show you. I can prove it to you. I’ve been scratched, twice, years ago. I-I don’t know about bites but I’m immune to scratches and I can infect someone by at least biting. I’ve done it before, I’ve bitten someone and she got sick, just like if I was a walker” she hurriedly babbled, eyes wide and full of hope, hoping he wouldn’t see through the half-lie. She lifted her hands in surrender, hesitantly getting up, body still shaking “there’s blood on the RV, which means you found somewhere with walkers, right?... T-Take me there. Take me there, and I’ll prove it. If I’m lying, then I’m dead already, but if I’m not…” she trailed off, approaching Negan slowly “just-... take me instead” she whispered shakily “shit, you’d do that? For these people?”

“Yes… but if this continues… I’ll find a way… I’ll find a way to kill myself and I mean it, everything dies with me unless this ends… let tonight end and I’ll come with you and you and your doctor can do whatever you want with me, stick me with n-n-needles and everything” she stuttered, Negan narrowing his eyes at her “you’re afraid of needles?” he asked and she looked away with red cheeks of utter embarrassment, feeling humiliated, and he chuckled “shit, I might just think that you’re telling the truth” he muttered, studying her before nodding “alright, let me see ‘em” he stated, gesturing to her and she hesitantly pulled up her auburn hair, pulling it back to show the scratch behind her ear “I got this the day everything started…” she muttered, letting her hair back down before leaning down and rolling up her pant leg, showing off the scratches “I got these almost a year after… a-at least I think it was about a year… I tried to get away from walkers and climbed up a tree, one of them scratched me…” she admitted and rolled the pant leg down, turning to look at Daryl who was gently shaking his head at her, making fresh tears form in her eyes as she looked back at Negan “do we have a deal?... Please…” she begged quietly “do we have a deal?” she was pleading at this point.

“Dwight, why don’t you show the little princess here to the truck we parked a little ways from here, I’m sure she’d be more comfortable there on the way back home. Daniel, you go with her, make sure the ‘cure’ doesn’t go anywhere” Negan stated and Daisy let out a shaky breath, the man approaching her, reaching for her when she yanked her arm out of his reach “let me say goodbye, please…” she pleaded, watching him sigh as though he was done giving out favors “don’t push it, princess” he muttered darkly and she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she walked towards the truck, ‘Daniel’ leading the way with Dwight behind her to make sure she kept up, looking over her shoulder at her uncle, then the rest of her family and finally at Carl, Dwight forcing her to keep walking when he thought she took too long, leading her to the truck and out of sight of the others before returning to Negan, Daniel forcing her into the backseat, closing the door afterwards, practically sealing her in and she began to sob, putting a hand over her mouth to muffle it.

This was it.

And this was worth it. If it meant they lived, if it meant that Rick wasn’t forced to cut off the arm of his son, if Maggie had a chance to make it to Hilltop before-...

It was worth it.

She flinched as the door opened in front of her and when she looked up, she saw Negan in the passenger’s seat, looking over his shoulder at her as Simon got in the car in the driver’s seat, starting up the truck as Negan continued to smirk at her. “Lighten up, princess, this is the start of your new life” he stated joyfully and she clenched her jaw in a mix of anger and grief, opting to look out the window, having to remind herself why she did this to begin this. Who she did it for.

It was worth it.

For them, it was worth it.

[spenciegoob]

Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler​ ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me. 

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing. 

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it. 

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around. 

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

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[poppinisperfection]

Peter Maximoff x Reader // Hello, Monica // WandaVision // Part 2

Part 1

Post Dark Phoenix X-Men & WandaVision fanfiction. FemReader and Peter Maximoff dating when he suddenly disappears.

Xavier returns and a plan is formed.

Word Count: 1892

Warnings: Emotional distress, mentions of violence, blood, gun wounds etc.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

(Y/n) sat by the screen, her vision blurring and bags forming under her eyes. The analog clock ticked with each second as Hank fiddled around with some tech, and the others sat on the floor half asleep. They had eventually contacted Xavier, and he promised to travel back to New York as fast as possible. That was hours ago, and now it was the middle of the night.

There was nothing they could do, even discussion led to nowhere; nothing about the situation made sense. Metal crashed on the floor, causing Scott to Jolt awake and Kurt to bamf in surprise as Professor McCoy gave a frustrated grunt at his clumsiness. The disturbance didn't phase (Y/n) though, as she read the line for the thousandth time,

"Please stand by."

She was somewhere between breaking into tears and punching every wall she saw. In short, (Y/n) was desperate. After hours of thinking, she finally allowed her eyes to close for longer than a short blink. Her mind was crashing around like a restless ocean, and she found herself drowning inside endless possibilities. But at the centre of it all was his face, his smile, his voice... him.

Suddenly the doors opened with a whoosh, and (Y/n) turned her attention towards whoever was entering the labs. A determined looking man wheeled in, locking with (Y/n)'s blood-shot eyes. An alabaster-haired, umber-skinned, and confident woman followed him; shooting a look of concern towards the group.

"Xavier-" Hank exclaimed with some relief at the Professor's appearance. The bald man gave a small hum in response, but he continued to near (Y/n) instead of making conversation. He placed a hand out and gave her a kind look.

"May I?" he crooned in his English accent, as the (h/c) lady nodded and placed her head forward. Closing his eyes and placing two fingers on her temple, and another on his own - Xavier began to see the whole story, without anyone saying a single word. After a few seconds, his pulled back and gave a sharp sigh.

"(Y/n), I am so sorry." the wise man's voice faltered after feeling the gut-wrenching fear that swept through her mind. The worried girl said nothing, but just tried to keep the strength on her face instead of breaking down into tears. "You've got a location?" Xavier turned to the beastly professor, trying to solve the mystery.

"Sort of- I mean, it's unbelievable Charles." he grabbed some pages and handed them to his colleague, "It's like he's traveled to another universe; I've only heard about theories of multiverses, but this- this is more evidence than anything I've ever read..." Hank rambled on, as even Charles Xavier- telepathic mastermind- look on in shock.

Before anyone could say anything, the old computer screen buzzed and the image shifted. (Y/n)'s tired eyes widened as she sat on the edge of her seat. Even Kurt teleported closer in an effort to not miss a second of the developing situation. A lead guitar began to play, and the opening credits rolled...

The group we're unsure if it was the same show, as it looked completely different in style. But their doubts were cleared when that same woman showed up, slamming the door using some sort of powers.

"She's a mutant..." (Y/n) mumbled, as the others looked on in confusion. The opening continued to play on as more characters were shown - most of which they had never seen before. Then finally, a speedy friend appeared.

"As himself?" Scott added, reading the credits. (Y/n) stared at the title and mentally recorded it.

"It's like they're a family." Kurt noticed as Peter integrated himself so naturally with them. The pair of young boys started to monologue about halloween.

"Halloween? This just gets more and more confusing." Scott rubbed his forehead in bewilderment. Ororo stood beside them, barely comprehending what she was watching. She had previously offered to look after the students while the situation was being investigated, and that lost time had undoubtedly caused her to miss a lot of information.

"So Pete's on TV?" Storm questioned in a baffled tone. The silver haired fellow lay on a couch as the twin boys discussed him, and they referred to him as their uncle. "Okay, somebody needs to expla-" she began, but was cut off as Xavier placed a finger to his temple and transferred the information she had missed. Ororo gave a soft gasp, but ultimately was relieved to be filled in. Since the professor had learned about the situation from (Y/n), some of the grief in her mind was passed to Storm; so the loyal mutant placed a caring hand on her friend's shoulder in comfort.

Xavier chatted behind the group of young mutants who watched the show play out.

"She suggested that maybe Kurt could go in, I told her-" Hank whispered to his friend.

"That would be dangerous..." Charles finished his thought, "But dangerous doesn't mean impossible." the telepath looked towards the blue teleporter who stared at the computer screen.

"You can't be serious, Charles." Hank furrowed his thick brows and stared in disbelief.

"Kurt, (Y/n)," the professor called out, catching the pair's attention,

"Come with me."

-------

The small group trailed down the metallic hallway and approached the familiar doors to Cerebro. (Y/n) looked back at the room they had left, still hearing the distant sounds from the broadcast. Her mind travelled to what she was missing; was Peter still okay?

The circular door released and slid open, and the group followed Xavier's lead towards the machine at the end of the walkway. Kurt's tail wrapped around his leg in fear, as he fiddled nervously with his hands. Placing the silver helmet over his head, Charles nodded for the intellectual beast to flip the switch. Immediately, the room lit up and images of people flashed around. A million conversations ran through the professor's mind, but he was only searching for one person.

"Turn it up." Xavier requested as his eyebrows knit together in concentration. Reluctantly, Hank did as he said. Soon the voices faded and a only a muffled conversation echoed through the large room. "The whole way, Hank." the british man added.

"Charles that's too mu-"

"Do it!" Xavier demanded his face contorting with the amplification. (Y/n) gave a soft gasp as the voice grew clearer.

"I think mom and dad would've loved it."

Peter's words reverberated, as tears formed in (Y/n)'s eyes. Despite Cerebro being on full power, the only thing that Xavier could access was the detached audio of the mind he was connected to.

"Where were you hiding these kids up til now? I assume they were sleeping peacefully in their beds."

"Can you speak to him Charles?" Hank asked.

"Something's... Something's not right... It's too powerful to see..." Xavier stuttered out, trying not to loose his connection. Peter's voice continued, as the group wondered to who and what he was talking about.

"I'm not some stranger and I'm not your husband, you can talk to me."

"There's something... dark... clouding his mind." the powerful telepath explained, "but he's still in there, somewhere." he added. The group began to notice a purple hue clouding the entire room. The clearer Peter's disembodied voice became, the more the mysterious smoke descended. Kurt and (Y/n) stood back slightly, scared of what it could mean.

"Don't sweat it sis, it's not like your dead husband can die twice."

The sentence rang through their ears, before the whole room erupted in a blast of ruby red energy. It was exactly like the force that 'Wanda' had used earlier. Energy passed through the mutants, as images of terror entered their minds. Fragments of memories flashed; glowing stones, broken families, and piles of ashes.

Xavier groaned with pain, but he kept the connection despite the immense power that surged through his mind. (Y/n) grasped her head and panted heavily. The image of a young man lying cold, bleeding through bullet wounds, on a pile of rubble haunted her. She didn't know who it was, but he seemed familiar for some reason - and her heart broke at the sight of his lifeless form.

"He's slipping... I- I can't hold on..." Xavier cried out through gritted teeth, "I can't latch onto anyone!" the room filled with a booming static noise as the bald man searched though all the available minds in that reality. Hank writhed on the floor, clutching his ears with the horrible sound. Soon he gained the strength to pull a hand up towards the switch and slowly tune down the settings. The din faded, and the only noise that could be heard was the heavy breathing from the group that tried to recover from the experience.

"I didn't tell you to turn it off." Xavier pulled off Cerebro's helmet and placed it harshly on its holder.

"It would've killed you." Hank rebutted, standing on his feet.

"There was something forming, a gap in the reality, I could feel it!" Charles placed a hand on his forehead in frustration, "It's like all the minds were under some sort of deep control - but I could sense other ones... ones that were free."

"But what can we do about it!?" the beastly Professor retaliated, annoyed at his colleague.

"If I can find the free minds, I can see where they are; exactly where they are." Xavier began to ramble, "Then I can show Kurt, and you can get there." (Y/n)'s eyes grew wide at his suggestion. Even though she had considered it earlier, she now began to doubt her logic. If it were just her, then she wouldn't hesitate to risk her life for Peter - but she couldn't ask Kurt to do it too.

"Professor, what if... What if it doesn't work?" (Y/n) piped up, looking to the powerful telepath with concern plastered all over her face.

"We can't risk more of our lives, Kurt you don't have to do this." Hank tried to assure the German mutant.

"Nein." he responded, "Peter is my friend, I vill not leave him in danger. I vill do it." Kurt nodded his head as he stood confident in his decision. Despite the hatred that Kurt Wagner had received his whole life; he was always the most selfless person in the room. (Y/n) shot him a weak smile, thankful for his kindness.

"This isn't just about Peter. Somebody brought him there. Somebody, or something, has a power that could change everything we think we know." McCoy warned, trying to convince the group of the dangerous situation.

"Which is why we need to know more." (Y/n) interjected.

"I will be able to communicate with you, as long as you don't go under this person's control." Xavier explained, deep in thought. Hank looked at the trio, and finally gave a deep sigh.

"There's no talking to you people." he shook his head, "I'm sure travelling across the multiverse will be a cinch." his tone dripped with sarcasm as Charles placed Cerebro back on his head.

"Have a little faith, Hank." Xavier joked stiffly as he flipped the switch to the machine. McCoy reluctantly turned the power knob and soon the static noise returned, causing a grimace to appear on everyone's faces. The noise flickered as Xavier passed through more empty minds, searching for one that would work. The sensory overload build up in a crescendo, until everything stopped to a halt.

"Hello, Monica."

[skywalkerstyles]

Kissing Lessons pt5

Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Readee

Warnings: domestic violence, abuse, angst

A/N: not proofread

I hear voices.

“Officer, I know you’re just doing your job...But there’s no reason she needs to go into the system.”

“Are you sure ma’am?”

“Officer. I’ve raised this girl as if she were my own since she was six years old. She is family. She will stay with us.”

It sounds like Mitsuki.

“You may collect any items she may need from her home now, an officer is on standby there but you will have to be quick.”

“I’ll go.”

“I’ll go with you. I know what she’ll want to keep.” There’s shuffling, movement. I can’t open my eyes. I want to tell them no. Leave everything. Burn that house of hell to the ground.

“I need to call the office and tell them I’m not coming in. Katsuki you can go if you’d like. I’ll have your father send Mei after they are done at Y/N’s house.”

“Someone should stay with her….I’ll stay. I want to be here when she wakes up.”

Katsuki’s mom puts salve on my cut. Her hands are soft and gentle. She smiles at me kindly as she puts a bandaid over it.

“Be careful with those kids. I know you’re playing but you can get seriously hurt. They are a bit bigger than you dear.” I smile shyly at her, she kisses my cheek and I sprint back towards the back yard to play tag.

My fingers twitch. I flex them, I still feel locked inside my body, I can’t open my eyes, but I can feel again. Am I dead? I hear someone shift beside me. Who is that?

"Katsuki? Why don’t you go home? You don’t have to go to school. Just go home and rest.”

“I’m staying till she wakes up mom….Please.”

“She’s a good girl. She’ll be alright.”

“I hope so…”

“Tell me son. Why didn’t she come home last night?” Home? I did go home. “She never goes over to that place. Did something happen? Was there a fight or an argument?”

“Mom...I….There’s something I need to tell you-”

“H...Home…” my words are hoarse and thick as I manage to finally speak. Slowly I open my eyes, taking in the room around me.

It’s white, sparse, and smells heavily of antiseptics. I see Mitsuki standing at the edge of my bed, and Katsuki himself, sitting in a chair beside me. He’s holding my hand, I don’t think he notices my eyes flicker towards our intertwined fingers. He leans forward, closer to my face, eyes wide and filled with worry.

“Y/N?” Before he can say anything else his mother is by the other side of me, kneeling down.

“Oh sweetheart.” she says, she reaches out and touches my cheek, a dull throbbing starts in my abdomen, I inhale sharply and shift with discomfort. “Are you alright?” she asks, placing her hand on my shoulder.

“Wha...What happened?” I ask, everything is fuzzy, cloudy. Mitsuki is hesitant, she doesn’t want to tell me? Is it that bad? She clears her throat.

“Honey you….Your dad….” a strange sensation of dread washes over me. Memories come flooding back. My mother and father fighting. The gun. The blood. Knocking on the their front door.

My eyes become blurry with tears, I take my hand away from Katsuki, who released me with ease, and wipe my face.

“They’re dead aren't they.” I say flatly. “My parents are dead.” she doesn’t need to say anything. Her face confirms it. I sigh, trying to sit up, I’m tired of laying down.

“Easy.” Katsuki grabs my arm and slowly helps me sit up, while his mother places the pillows beneath my back. I groan as doing this causing the pain in my stomach to sharpen. I flinch, Katsuki doesn’t let go of me.

“Ouch” I moan, leaning back against the pillows. “So...What happens to me now?” I ask his mom, Katsuki’s hand slides down my arm to take my hand again, I let him.

“Well….I told the Officer we would take you. You pretty much live with us anyway so it wouldn’t be much of a change….You can come home.”

“Home?” I ask. She smiles.

“Yes. Our home is your home. It always has been.” I smile, tears falling down my cheeks. I can go home. To my real home.

“Thank you,” I reach out and she wraps her arms around me, hugging me tightly. She kisses the side of my head.

“I need to go and call your father Katsuki, will you stay with her?” He nods as his mother gets up to leave. We sit in silence, he plays with my fingers absently.

“Katsu...I….” I don’t know what to say, there’s a lot I should say, but I can’t think.

“You really….You really scared us you know,” he says, looking up at me. His face is pale and there are dark circles under his eyes. “We thought we were gonna lose you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why did you go there after school? Why didn’t you come home?”

“Because….” I take a deep breath, pulling my hand from his, “Because I couldn’t stand the awkwardness.” I reach up, running my hand over my face. “You just pulled back and...I know it’s my fault. I did it to myself. But….” my voice cracks. “Katsuki you are one of my best friends. And I don’t want to lose you. I want things to be like they were. Before I asked you for kissing lessons, when we could just hang out….I don’t want to lose-” he cuts me off, pressing his lips to mine tenderly. My eyes slide shut, all the feelings I have for him bubble up, I’m so confused.

“You’ll always be my best friend Y/N. That’ll never change.” he says as he pulls away, a soft smile on his lips. “And you can always talk to me. About anything. We’re okay.” I sigh with relief and nudge his forehead with mine.

“I love you Katsuki."

“Tch. Of course you do.” our moment is interrupted by a knock on the door. I look up to see Ash, he’s standing awkwardly with a bouquet of white roses. Katsuki pulls away from me immediately. Ash smiles sheepishly, holding the flowers up.

“I heard what happened….Wanted to make sure you were alright.” Katsuki stands up stiff and rigid, he walks towards the door.

“I’ll go find a vase for these,” he takes the flowers from him. “Give you two a minute alone.” He smiles at me again, making my heart flutter, before leaving me alone with Ash. Ash takes Katsuki’s seat. He looks worried, upset.

“I’m so sorry about your parents,” I feel my jaw twitch. I take the hurt I feel and ball it up, shoving it to the pit of my stomach.

“I think it was going to happen one day….They weren’t good for each other,” I pause, “Or themselves.” Ash takes my hand in both of his, he runs his thumb over my knuckles.

“There’s still so much I don’t know about you. I wanna know. I wanna know everything….But I understand why you wouldn’t tell me about your home life.”

“It’s embarrassing,” I say with a smile. He chuckles.

“Yeah. I guess it would be.” He leans in and kisses me, pressing his lips to mine softly, I let my eyes slide closed and relax into it. “I was so scared.” he echoes Katsuki’s words from earlier. “But that fear made me decide something.”

“What?”

“Homecoming.” I look at him confused. “Homecoming is a month away….If you feel up to it, I’d like to take you.” my mouth falls open in shock and surprise. I was not expecting that, but he looks confident and sure of himself.

“Sure,” he grins, kissing me again. He cups my face in his hands and kisses me excitedly, I smile into it. “That sounds great.”

Katsuki knocks on the door, Ash pulls away from me as he walks in. He sets the flowers down by my bed. They really are beautiful. Ash stands.

“I should probably let you rest,” he says to me, the look of excitement on his face is endearing.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“Thank you for saying yes.” he turns on his heel, leaving the room with a pep to his step. He sits back down, he opens a bag of chips and holds it out to me. I take one.

“What’d you say yes to?” he asks curiously. I shrug.

“He asked me to Homecoming. I said I’d go.” He nods, we don’t speak again for a little bit. Quietly munching our chips and watching television.

“Y/N.” he says during a commerical break.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going to say you shouldn’t go. It’s not my place….But I just...I get weird vibes from that guy. Be careful, please. We almost lost you once. We…I mean.....I don’t want to know what it feels like to actually lose you. Okay?” I don’t know where this is coming from, but his face is dead serious.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Someone needs to.” I chuckle. He faces the tv again and we sit in comfortable silence.

I am released from the hospital a week later. One of the Bakugou’s was with me at all times. I was asked about my parents by the police. They were cremated. They asked if I wanted the ashes. I said no. Katsuki helped me to the car when I was finally released. Going to their home, my home, was like entering a dream. One I’d been wishing for my whole life. A place where I belonged.

Nothing really changes. Mei and I always share a bed so they don’t blow up the air mattress, their dad gets another dresser for me to put my clothes and Mei cleans off her book shelf for my books. This is contentment. This is normalcy.

“I’m so glad you can come back to school. I was dying without you,” Mei says dramatically as I slam my locker shut. My stitches are healing well, as long as I take it easy I can go to school. No gym class though, I am not complaining.

“I’m sure you were just fine.” we make our way to the cafeteria for lunch.

“Really Y/N,” she smiles and nudges my shoulder. “I missed you.”we sit at our normal spot and wait for Kai and Ash to show up. Ash called me alot at home, and came by a few times. Everyone seems to really like him, except forKatsuki, I don’t know why, but his warning pops into my head every time I am alone with Ash.

“Hey beautiful.” Ash wraps his arm around my shoulders and kisses me dramatically. I hear Mei make a gagging sound and flip her off teasingly as he pulls away. “How’s your day going?”

“It’s good.”

“Guess who’s having another party this weekend?” Kai says, pointing at himself. I roll my eyes, Mei does too.

“Really? You have a party almost every weekend.” I snicker when she says this. Ash takes my hand, holding it under the table.

“Well this one is gonna be big! Epic! I swear it.” he kisses her cheek and points at me and Ash. “You two gotta be there.” Ash looks to me, I hadn’t been out since the shooting.

“What do you say? It could be fun.” I nod, giving in.

------------------

“Mei!" Kai meets us at the door, throwing his arm around his girlfriend and shoving a beer into her hands. “What took you so long?”

“We got held up at home.” I said, Kai barely acknowledges me. Dick. “Is Ash here?” I ask. He nods, bringing his beer to his lips.

“Yeah, he’s upstairs I think.” I question it for a second and then think maybe he’s in the bathroom. I leave Mei and Kai in the foyer and make my way up the steps of Kai’s house. The base from the stereo vibrates through my body. The music is loud. Always loud.

I start knocking on doors and shouting Ash’s name through them. When I get to the door at the end of the hall I press my ear to it. I can hear shuffling. I knock tentatively and try the door handle. “Ash? Is that you?” I push the door open.

Ash looks up at me alarmed, a blonde girl, Tiffany, pulls away from him smugly, her arms still around his shoulders. I can feel my heart cracking in my chest.

“Y/N?” Ash stutters. “It’s not what it looks like-” I turn, sprinting down the steps, I can hear him following me.

“Leave me alone!” I shout as I burst out of the house and into the night air. I can hear him following me quickly, shouting my name, anger becoming more and more evident in his voice. Suddenly I feel his hand, not so gentle, not so kind, on my upper arm. He yanks me around to face him, grabbing my chin in his hand.

“When I tell you to stop, You fucking Stop!” I flinch, his voice sounding very much like my father’s, I feel my body tense up, my jaw is aching from how tightly he’s holding it. His breath smells like alcohol and his pupils are dilated.

“Ash.” I whimper, “Let me go.” He holds me tighter, digging his fingers into my elbow.

“If you ever fucking run from me like that again….”he warns. He doesn’t finish, he doesn’t need too. My head is spinning, he was such a nice guy, so nice to me, I don’t know who this monster in front of me is. He glares at me and lets go of me forcibly. I stumble back and he pulls out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a slow drag. I stand there, afraid if I move I’ll set him off again. We stand in the middle of the empty street, the noise of the party behind us. No one is outside. So no one saw.

Finally he shakes his head, flicking his cigarette away. He comes close to me again, I flinch when he caresses my cheek with the back of my hand, I feel sick.

“You look tired,” he sounds concerned. “You don’t need to be here. I’ll tell Mei you went home.” He kisses me, I don’t kiss him back, to stunned to move. “Go straight home. You go anywhere else...I’ll know.” he doesn’t look back as he leaves.

The kitchen light is on when I come home. I shut the door quietly and try to tip tioe to the room I now share with Mei .I’m shaken, I don’t know what to do, my mind is spinning. How could someone be so sweet and then turn into such a monster. My heart aches from finding him with that girl, and my mind is reeling from the threat he made.

“Y/N.” I stop in my tracks. Of course Katsuki’s still awake. He’s a night owl on the weekends. He comes into the hall, turning the light on. I turn my face away, trying to hide how shaken I am. “You’re early.” he says. I shrug.

“H...He wasn’t there. I decided to come home.” Katsuki reaches for me and I move away out of instinct, wrapping my arms around myself. I refuse to look at him.

“Hey,” he says, no doubt surprised by my reaction. “You okay?” before I can stop him his hands are on my face, they’re nothing like Ash’s. Katsuki’s hands are soft, and kind. He tilts my face up and I watch as anger washes over his features. He narrows his eyes, and when he drops his left hand, grazing my arm I flinch and hiss. Shit.

“Katsuki I-”

“What happened to your face?” He gently pushed my jacket off my shoulders and down my arm, I can see the purple bruise forming clearly. “What the fuck Y/N?” I pull away from him, my face to the ground and pull my jacket back up. “Ash was at that party wasn’t he?” I shake my head. His eyes are dangerous, his voice barely kept quiet as anger rolls off him.

“I fell. You know how clumsy I can be.”

“Y/N.”

“Katsuki stop. Please,” my voice is pleading, I need to be alone, I need to clear my head. “Please I’m tired….I just want to take a shower and go to sleep." Katsuki opens his mouth, ready to say something else but thinks better of it. He shakes his head, irritated but doesn’t press.

“Whatever you say Y/N.” tears burn my eyes as he walks back into the kitchen.

The water is warm, I let it was away all my anxiety. I examine myself in the mirror when I finish, there’s a few small bruises where Ash grabbed my face, my arm got the brunt of it. I make excuses for him in my mind and take a shaky breath. He had been drinking. Maybe he was really drunk, maybe that girl seduced him. Maybe he didn’t mean it. He didn’t know what he was doing.

Katsuki P.O.V

I ask Mei the next morning when she comes home if Ash was at that party. She tells me that he was. My blood is boiling. I know he put his hands on her. I know he did, but she won’t tell me. Y/N avoids me all day, I don’t take my eyes off of her. I want to protect her, I want to take care of her. She’s been through so much...I just wish she trusted me with this. I wish I had proven myself worthy of her trust.

I decide to keep an eye on her, and Ash. If I see him do anything….it won’t end well.

[unbridgeabledistances]

Prompt: mickey is walking with Franny when Terry shows up. Mickey protects Franny. Franny runs home where ian and family are and shouts that a man is hurting uncle mickey. Basically hurt mickey, protective ian. Ian conforting Mickey afterwards!

anon this is so GOOD !!! i LOVE some mickey & franny content, plus gallavich comfort :’) this is somewhat intense and got way too long lol, but the whole thing was so fun to write and i hope u enjoy <3

also my asks are open for more prompts! (since i am on winter break & bored out of my mind lol)

& ofc, tw for homophobia and physical violence

--

“C’mon kiddo! Bet you can’t catch me!”

“Yes, Uncle Mickey, yes I can!”

The sun was beating down onto the slushy pavement of the South Side, reflecting off the gritty late-winter snow that remained on the sides of the road and nearly blinding Mickey as he tried to lightly jog down the slippery sidewalk, just outside of Franny’s reach. Franny, who was a tottering bundle in her thick winter coat, a scratchy-looking red woolen scarf Tami had given her for Christmas, and a pink sparkly winter hat Debbie had forced over her ears before Mickey took her outside to play, was running as fast as she could to stay on Mickey’s heels.

Mickey hadn’t meant to take Franny as far away from the Gallagher house, into the winding South Side neighborhoods, as he had—Debbie was having some sort of meltdown about her business going to shit after a situation with organic snacks and climbing out a window (Mickey wasn’t even going to ask)—and sensing tensions were high, Mickey had pulled Franny out the back door to run around and play “gangsters,” her new favorite game, with the toy guns he’d gotten her for Christmas. They were going to stick to playing in the backyard, mostly because it was fucking freezing and almost dark outside, until Franny was about to encroach on Mickey’s fictional gang’s territory under the porch stairs, and of course Mickey couldn’t have that—so now they were racing through the streets, with Franny giggling and practically tripping over her own clunky winter boots every few steps.

“Is that all you’ve got, Wonder Woman? Come and get me!” Mickey called to Franny over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna get you! I will, Uncle Mickey!”

Mickey chuckled as he kept running, and felt his heart soften. As shitty as he’d always been with kids, and how often he always froze in panic anytime he’d had to take care of Yev back in the day, he had to admit that goofing around with Franny was pretty fucking fun.

And that also just made him depressed, because he knew that she was going to grow up surrounded by all of this bullshit—the dysfunctional family, Frank’s shenanigans, the drugs and beat downs, the mom with an ankle bracelet. Right now, Franny was just a kid—the neighborhood hadn’t taken its toll on her yet.

Luckily, Mickey didn’t have shit to do all day—he barely had a job aside from security for Kev and V’s practically non-existent pot side business, so he had plenty of time to play with Franny. If he could do anything with his life right now, he could make sure that Franny had some happy memories to cut through all the bullshit life was inevitably about to throw to her.

Mickey continued to run, lost in thought, until Franny caught up to him and sharply tugged on the back of his coat.

“I win, Uncle Mickey, I win! Now I’m gonna blow your face off!” Franny said with a playful scowl as she held up her toy gun.

Mickey chuckled and put his hands up in the air in resignation, turning to face Franny. “Alright, kid, you got me. Nice work.”

He held his hand out for Franny to high-five, which she gave willingly before pulling off her sparkly pink hat and throwing it on the ground.

“I’m too hot. Uncle Mickey, can we go home now? I think I know the way back.”

Mickey ruffled her hair. “Sounds good, kiddo. Lead the way.”

Just as they were about to start walking in the direction of the Gallagher house, a gruff voice came from behind them, mingling with the blowing wind.

“Mickey?”

Oh fuck.

Mickey turned around slowly, giving a quick mental prayer to whatever god that existed, if god even did fucking exist, that the voice he heard wasn’t the one he thought he had.

In the end, it was as bad as his worst nightmare.

Terry stood six feet in front of him on the ice-caked sidewalk, a lit cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth (just like it always was), his hands visibly curled into fists by his sides. Mickey took in a sharp breath, and tried to quell the wave of panic overtaking him. Calm the fuck down. Mickey tried to remember the checklist of what he always had to do when he saw his dad, a survival tactic he hadn’t had to think about for months: Keep your eyes down. See if you can smell alcohol. Look at his waistline and see if he has a gun.

Mickey’s eyes flickered to Terry’s pockets. No gun, thank fucking god. He slowly reached out behind him to take Franny’s tiny gloved hand, mentally cursing himself for letting them walk this far from home. Then he looked Terry in the eyes and swallowed. You can do this.

“Hiya, pops. What’re you doing over here on this beautiful Tuesday afternoon?”

Terry’s eyes narrowed, his stance still aggressive, but he remained rooted a safe distance away. “Don’t make fucking small talk with me, fairy boy.” He paused and took a drag of his cigarette. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you around here.”

“Well, I guess today’s your lucky day. About time for a family reunion.”

Terry gave a bitter, menacing chuckle that sent a shiver of remembrance down Mickey’s spine. “Who’s the kid?”

“Uh. It’s Debbie’s kid.” My niece, he bit back. My husband’s sister’s daughter.

Franny looked up at Mickey, not in confusion but in wide-eyed understanding. Franny was only five, sure, but she wasn’t stupid; she’d seen her fair share of violent shit go down on the street in front of her, and she knew what aggression looked like—what it looked like when someone was about to attack. Mickey looked back at her, and ever-so-slightly raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a warning. Get ready to run, kid.

“Huh.” Terry threw his cigarette butt on the ground, slowly grinding the ash into the slush with the toe of his shoe. “Funny that you’re out here with her, all on your own. No one else on the street, not for blocks.”

Mickey exhaled, attempting to still his racing heart. On a different day, when he wasn’t so caught off guard by Terry’s presence, he would have ended this here and now; pulled a gun and put a bullet right through his father’s homophobic skull. But Terry was right—there was no one outside for miles, no one stirring behind the curtains of the houses lining the streets, no one to call for help if Terry physically overpowered him and kicked the life out of him. And Franny was still holding his hand.

“Yeah, well. We’re just goin’ for a walk. And we’re gonna head back now, if you’re… done.”

Terry held Mickey’s gaze, unblinking. When he spoke, his voice was low and ice cold. “When the fuck was I ever done with you?”

It all happened in an instant, but also in terrifyingly smooth slow motion—Terry charged at Mickey, fists raised, skidding across the ice in a blur.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, you deformed excuse for a Milkovich!”

Terry was seething with the same fiery anger as when he flipped the table at Yevgeny’s christening, the night he found out that Mickey was gay—as he raced across the pavement, all Mickey could do was think about how to get Franny out of here before his father’s fist connected with his face. He gently shoved Franny behind him towards the sidewalk leading to the Gallagher house.

“Go, Franny, go!” He choked out, before Terry thrust a punch to his stomach and Mickey doubled over, kneeling on the damp sidewalk.

Terry’s shadow hovered over Mickey, and he knelt down, grabbing the hair at the scruff of Mickey’s neck. Mickey could smell his breath, all stale cigarettes and burnt coffee, like it had been for the past thirty years of his life.

“Been waiting a long time for this,” Terry said through his teeth. Mickey gathered every ounce of strength that he could— thank you, Kev Fit membership— and crashed his own head into his father’s, toppling him over and pinning him down. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, and saw Franny’s bootprints leading down the street, saw a flash of a red scarf turning the final corner a few blocks down. Thank god.

Terry squirmed under Mickey’s iron grip on his wrists. “Get off me, assfucker!”

“Sorry, Dad, no can do.” Mickey could almost grin. All he had to do was knock his dad out cold, and this whole thing could be over—

Out of nowhere Terry’s right arm broke free, striking Mickey’s side and toppling him onto the pavement.

“I’ve got you now,” Terry drawled, and that was the last thing Mickey heard before Terry’s boot stuck into his side and he saw stars.

**

The sun had almost set beneath the clouds, casting a warm glow through the front windows of the Gallagher house. Ian and Carl sat in the living room, engaged in particularly immersive debate about the accuracy of cop drama TV shows in an attempt to drown out Debbie’s continued melodrama of reading her bad Yelp reviews.

“Nah, man, I’m telling you, there’s no way an EMT would actually get to the scene that quickly anyways—"

There was a soft series of frantic knocks at the front door, so gentle Ian barely would have heard it if the TV volume wasn’t turned to a low hum. Ian sprang up and swung the front door open to… Franny?

A tear-stained, snow-soaked Franny, with matted hair and a scarf hanging half off her neck.

“Uncle Ian! Uncle Ian, we have to go help Uncle Mickey!”

What the fuck?

“Franny, what’s the matter?” Ian tried to gently guide her inside out of the cold, but Franny stomped her boots and shoved Ian’s hand away.

“We have to go now Uncle Ian! A man is hitting Uncle Mickey! We have to go quick!”

Ian froze. Shit. There were plenty of people who wanted an excuse to beat the crap out of Mickey, most of whom Mickey could take— but regardless, Ian didn’t want anyone fucking up Mickey’s parole.

“Oh, shit. Okay. Franny, can you take me to Uncle Mickey?”

Franny fervently nodded. “He’s up the street. I was chasing him when we were playing.”

Ian turned to call over his shoulder. “Hey, can anyone help me back Mickey up in a fight with some dude?”

Carl put his hands up in resignation. “Don’t look at me, man. I should be a mile away from any instance of Mickey breaking his parole.”

Sandy darted into the living room, from the kitchen where she had been consoling Debbie. “Mickey’s in a fight?”

“Apparently. He was playing with Franny down the road and now Franny’s back here.”

Sandy looked at the disheveled Franny standing in the doorway. “Shit. I’ll grab my shoes.”

“Uncle Ian, we have to go now!”

“Okay, we’re coming Franny. Lead the way.”

**

Franny guided them down the sidewalk, the three of them casting dark shadows onto the roadside piles of snow as the sun disappeared beneath the clouds. “This way!”

Ian didn’t really know what he was expecting to see as they turned the final corner, the street almost totally enveloped in darkness— maybe Mickey pinning some guy up against a wall, or in the back of a cop car. But he was certainly not prepared to see Mickey as a static heap sprawled on the sidewalk, while the unmistakable figure of Terry Milkovich stood above him, pummeling Ian’s husband.

Sandy noticed Terry’s presence before Ian could even react to what was going on. “Uh, Franny, hey, can you walk back to the house please?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Ian’s feet were sprinting down the street. “Terry! Get the FUCK off of him!”

Ian could barely register his body’s movements as he smashed his fist into Terry’s nose and tackled him to the ground. Terry spit in Ian’s face. “Fucking Gallagher!”

Ian hit Terry once again, keeping him pinned down. He struck him over and over, not stopping to process if he was even moving, or breathing, or fighting back.

“Hey! Everyone calm the fuck down!”

Ian looked up over his shoulder—Sandy was standing above them, pointing a gun directly at Terry, whose face was now bashed and bloody.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, my dear Uncle Terry,” Sandy said in a sickly-sweet voice that didn’t match her iron gaze. “Ian’s going to get off of you, and you’re going to stand up and walk down the street back to your shithole house. And you’re going to watch your fucking back, because you never know when I could decide to come home one night while you’re asleep and make you regret everything you did this evening. Are we clear?”

Terry’s eyes narrowed, panting as he stayed pinned beneath Ian. “Those Gallagher queers got you too, huh?”

Sandy cocked the gun even more aggressively in Terrys direction, her thumb teasing the safety.

“That’s not how it works, dumbass. Unlike some pieces of garbage in this neighborhood, the Gallagher family actually cares about each other. Now—are we clear?”

Terry scowled at Ian, and gave a curt nod. “Get the fuck off me, fag.”

Ian didn’t budge. “Sandy, no,” Ian snarled.

“Ian, we’ll deal with him later.”

Ian looked up at Sandy, who met his eyes with an expectant gaze, still holding the gun directly at Terry. It took every ounce of strength Ian had to kneel and rise from the ground—it would be so easy to knock Terry out, to tell Sandy to pull to trigger, to put all the pain he’d caused behind them. To finally feel safe.

Terry immediately stood, and looked at Mickey on the ground, practically unconscious and his blood mingling with the snow. Terry opened his mouth to say some final retort— but Sandy clicked off the safety of the gun, steadily pointing it in his direction, and Terry promptly closed his mouth again. He turned and walked away.

Ian was immediately at Mickey’s side. “Fuck, Mickey, fuck.” Ian choked out. “Hey, look at me.”

Mickey had definitely hit his head, hard—there was a gash on his forehead dripping blood down his face, just like the night of Yevgeny’s christening when they’d watched Terry be forced into the back of a cop car. He looked up at Ian, his eyes drifting in and out of focus. Ian quickly scanned the rest of Mickey’s body—aside from a few solid kicks to the ribs, his head injury seemed to be the only major issue. Ian gently ran a hand through his hair.

“Mickey, hey, can you stand up? We’ve gotta get you home.”

First, get Mickey home— only then could Ian actually let himself process everything that had happened, and swallow down the bile rising from his stomach. First, Mickey had to be safe.

Sandy leaned over next to Ian. “Do you think we’re gonna have to carry him?”

“Uh, yeah I think so. Can you grab his legs?”

**

Mickey forced his heavy eyelids open, hazy and disoriented. He blinked, trying to clear the sleep out of his eyes. The blurry outlines of he and Ian’s bedroom, cloaked in darkness, slowly came into focus. He could feel the scratchy crocheted blanket on top of him, but aside from that his limbs were so heavy and numb he could barely move. A dull pain throbbed in the back of his head. Fuck.

“You awake?”

Ian was curled next to him in bed, not touching any part of Mickey’s aching body but leaning in close, nearly a centimeter away. Ian’s hand reached up and gently wiped a damp piece of hair off of Mickey’s forehead. Mickey winced.

“Sorry. How d’you feel?”

“I’ve definitely felt better,” Mickey croaked. “What time is it?”

“Almost 1 a.m. You’ve been out for a few hours,” Ian replied in a low voice.

“Shit.” Mickey closed his eyes. They were silent in the darkness for a few moments, but Mickey could feel Ian’s eyes on him. “My head fuckin’ hurts. What’s your prognosis, doc?”

“You definitely have a concussion. It probably won’t be a big deal in a week or two. You don’t need stitches or anything, though. And I did some EMT magic on your ribs, which mostly just means I put ice on them while you were sleeping.”

Mickey smirked, his eyes still closed—partially from the headache, but partially because he didn’t want to look Ian in the eyes yet. “Franny okay?”

“Yeah, she’s all good.”

“And, uh. Terry?”

He could feel Ian stiffen beside him. “Probably at home, being the same lowlife asshole he always has been. Sandy pulled a gun on him.”

Mickey opened his eyes, and could see through the darkness that Ian’s own eyes looked puffy and worn. It killed him to see Ian suffering, once again, because of him— it felt like they were always battling something at every turn, sure, but in Mickey’s case, it was almost always Terry they were fighting against.

“Fuck. When I’m less tired, and my body feels less like shit, remind me to go kill him, yeah?”

Ian laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I almost tried that tactic myself. I think Sandy scared the shit out of him, though. We’ll figure out what to do if he… acts up again.”

Mickey knew it was a lot more complicated than that, and that in the morning he would probably be seething and grabbing his guns and marching down to Terry’s house with fire in his eyes, but they didn’t need to dwell on that right now. Right now it was quiet, and Ian’s body was pressed against his, and Mickey was wrapped in a warm blanket in a bed with his husband. They were safe.

“I’ve thought I’d lost you thousands of times, Mick, but tonight really scared me” Ian softly whispered, cutting through the silence. “I thought… I don’t know, when I saw you on the sidewalk, I thought after all the shit your dad has said, I might’ve been too late.”

Mickey took a sharp breath in, making his ribs sting, while Ian kept talking.

“When you were in jail, or in Mexico, I knew you were always out there, and I guess knowing that always kept me going. But knowing I could have lost you again tonight—I don’t know, it scared the shit out of me,” Ian said, his voice breaking.

Mickey mustered all the strength he had, and slightly shifted his weight onto his left side to face Ian, whose eyes were glassy. Beneath all of Ian’s macho shit the past few weeks, it was so easy to look at him and forget that he was still also that tired, scared kid from the South Side that Mickey met ten years ago, one who didn’t know if good things could be permanent or if other people could stick around. Mickey put his hand up to Ian’s face, running his thumb up and down his cheekbone.

“Hey. C’mere.”

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey—gently at first, like he was gliding his fingers over something precious, and then fully wrapping his arms around him, and burying his face in the hair on top of Mickey’s head. Mickey could feel Ian’s heartbeat through his thin t-shirt, feel the warmth radiating off of his biceps that encircled him. Ian pressed a kiss to the top of Mickey’s head, where his forehead met his hairline.

“I’m here, Gallagher,” Mickey whispered into Ian’s skin. “I’m not going anywhere. No one’s gonna change that shit.”

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter Three

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck I want :3

-> Word Count: 2.4k

-> Warnings: Blood, guns, violence

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat [if you wanna be added lmk <3]

“Where did you learn to stitch someone?”

Y/n looked back over at her guest and frowned, “My dad was a survivalist. He made me go to survivor camp every summer and took me hunting all the time. When it all started he plannned for us to come here. The book shelves are lined with his survival stuff.

Mina frowned, “Did he come with you or did you come alone?”

In that instant it flashed in Y/n’s eyes. The memory of her father pinned by a truck. His hand reached out for her. She could see them coming as she felt his fingers pushed them away. Her feet listened to him and started to run. They move against her wishes.

She shook the memories off and looked at Mina, “Where are your parents?”

Her eyes went blank like Y/n’s, “My mom died of sickness in the beginning. She went to work and never came home, and dad...well, he’s gone too.” Her voice started to quiver a bit and trailed off. Y/n didn’t press any farther.

“They’re all gone Mina. All that’s left is us and them.” Y/n almost twitched when she said the words ‘us and them’. She included Mina in her ‘us’.

“Mina?” A sleepy voice came from the living room. She quickly got up and out of bed to go check on Kirishima.

“He’s burning up.”

Y/n nodded and walked into the room and stretched, “Good. His body’s fighting the infection. The tree bark from the branch wass really flakey. I tried to flush the wound as best as I could but some bark might still be in there.”

Y/n felt a small spark on the back of her hand when she rested it against the balmy skin of his forehead. He took her hand in his. It was a moment of intimacy that Y/n’s never experienced before. She didn’t pull away but she didn’t know how to react as he squeezes her hand.

“Hard to thank you when I don’t know your name.”

Y/n felt her hand trapped in and looked over the back of the couch and gave him a small smile, “My name’s Y/n.” She felt expressions play across her face and quickly pulled away from his sweaty palm. She walked to the leftover boiled water and poured him a huge glass of it and then passed it to him. “You’ll need this.”

His red eyes sparkled and suddenly Y/n’s stomach ache was back.

“Thanks. Thanks for everything. I know you could’ve left me in that hole.” Y/n broke his stare and looked at the hardwood floor.

“It was nothing.”

Mina looked over at them and grinned, “How old are you Y/n?”

“Nineteen.”

Mina smiled, “I’m eighteen.”

Y/n felt sad when Mina told her that. She realized that Mina was eight when her mother never came home from work.

“Kirishima is twenty.” The room went quiet, Y/n didn’t know how to add to the conversation. She didn’t have conservations. Hades sensed her awkwardness and padded towards her, nuzzlin his face into her palms. “Where’d you get him?” Y/n scratched his face and smiled at how Mina had already won Hades over.

“He was at the doorstep one day. I heard his mother dying in the woods near the house. She got the infection and died just after giving birth. Her cubs started to eat her and got the sickness too. Hades was the only smart one. He never ate her. He found me instead.” Y/n grimaced and tried not to think about having to shoot the baby wolves.

Mina beamed at the large wolf, “He’s huge.”

“Very, but he’s good company and helps out around the house.” Mina laughed at that. She was bubbly, Y/n remembered her grandma calling kids bubbly and wondered how bubbly Mina would be if she had a normal childhood. Y/n looked back at Kirshima who was falling asleep again. “He falls asleep fast. We need to make him some soup.” She walked to the door and looked back at Mina. “Can I trust you?”

Mina shook her head, “No, I like it here and I’ll do whatever you want to let me stay but if it comes down to it I would sell you out to save Kiri.”

“Fair enough,” Y/n liked her candor and pointed to the books on the shelf, “Start with the top shelf. They’re the easiest reads.” Mina nodded and grabbed a book. Y/n knew Mina was a survivor.

The wooden paneling of the outdated cottage was comfortable and bright with the light filtering in through the huge windows. She hasn’t seen her cabin for what it truly was until that moment. Having seen Mina and Kirishima in her house made her realize how lucky she was. She had a fleeting thought and wondered when was the last time they rested on comfortable furniture.

Hades’s yellow eyes met Y/n’s eyes, he spoke to her only with his look. He wanted to stay with them. He didn’t completely trust the new guests either, Y/n could see it in his eyes. She nodded at him and walked out of the cabin.

She needed grouse or pheasant or wild turkey. There weren't a ton of them in the area but Y/n knew a spot. The cabin sat surrounded by huge fir trees and brush, green was everywhere. It made her nervous in the beginning. It was so big compared to her and she felt like there were eyes on her from a thousand vantage points. She could see the infected stepping over the brush, arms reaching for her. Blood running from their eyes and seeping sores covering their skin. Their tattered clothes and the smell would overwhelm her as they pulled her to the ground.

She could see the other. She could hear herself scream as their greedy fingers bit into her skin and dragged her into the woods. The woods where she would scream like the other girls. The tearing of the clothes had haunted her from the beginning. The infected tore flesh and the others tore clothes and the sound could swallow you up.

But now she saw the greenery and listened to the sounds of the forest and knew that she was safe. The forest was her friend. The relationship was tense in the beginning, but it earned her trust over time. Just like Hades, it had become a part of her family. Where she lost one family, she gained another.

The branches broke under her feet but in a way that kept the birds chirping and squirrels nattering. It was a gift that she had learned from Hades. He was able to wander the forest quickly, but in sync with the woodland creatures.

She stopped at the small dip in the forest, she had a great view from there. She blended into the trees and listened as she closed her eyes and waited. She grabbed her bow and arrow and got ready and waited for the sound she was seeking. It was a pheasant.

She watched the bizarre looking face of it and it’s spectacular colors. She could tell it was male. She took a deep breath and on the exhale released the arrow perfectly. It took her two years of constant shooting to be able to down an animal at that distance. The pheasant dropped without a sound as the arrow pierced through his throat just below it’s throat. She waited an extra second before putting the bow and arrow back in a small hole and going to retrieve the bird.

While she retrieved her catch she constantly looked over her shoulder. Kirishima and his friend had been watching her for two months before she became aware of them. Her sense of security in the forest was questioned. Heat flushed her cheeks as she walked back carrying the bird by his feet. She caught herself thinking about Kirishima; his red hair and red eyes and long eyelashes.

A stabbing pain ripped through her thigh.

She looked up to see the reflection of a scope from across the small gully. She quickly dropped to the ground and layed among the brush. Her heart was beating out of control.

Mina.

Y/n was sure that she had shot her. She wants her cabin, she had made that perfectly clear. Y/n’s heart hurt for the smallest of seconds before she hardedned and came to terms with the fact that she would have to kill Mina. Flashes of her pink hair and how much she cared for her friend crossed Y/n’s mind.

Shots whizzed passed Y/n in the brush. Y/n wondered if Kirishima had known that Mina was trying to kill her. Y/n held her breath and waited. She knew Hades would come for her. Then she heard footsteps. The forest was silent as the predator moved through it. She felt a sickening hurt after she realized that she had been betrayed. She regretted helping Kirishima out of that hole. She should’ve never opened the door. She should’ve cracked open the whiskey and listened from inside her cabin and waited for Mina to die or leave.

She knew she would regret it.

Y/n looked around. There was too much brush surrounding her. Any movement she made would give away her location. She could hear the footsteps drawing closer. They were heavy in their step, breaking branches roughly. Y/n was certain that it was Mina. She was certain that she would be shot in the back of the head any minute.

The whizzing noise started again as bullets hit the tree behind her. Y/n wondered what Mina was doing and why she hadn’t just shot her already. Thinking that Mina had lost the spot where she shot her, she thanked the bush for being so thick around her. There was a heavy thump and some rustling near me and Y/n started to panic silently. She had no idea what was going on.

“Y/n,” a whisper filled the forest and Y/n looked around without rustling the bushes. “Y/n?” Suddenly she felt Hades' breath on her. She looked up to see Mina squatted beside her. As soon as Y/n saw the rifle in her hand she was filled with rage. But she knew that the bullet in her thigh wouldn’t allow her to jump up and fight Mina for the gun. She looked at Hades who was on edge. He was hunting as if Mina was his partner and that hurt Y/n more than anything. “Y/n I killed him but there might be others.”

“What?” The words left Y/n’s mouth before she could register her volume.

Mina put a finger to her lips, “He probably isn’t alone.”

Y/n looked at her gun in Mina’s hands, “You never shot me?”

Mina pointed to the bush beside Y/n, “He shot you. Why would I shoot you? What? Where are you shot?”

Y/n tried to ignore the pain as she got up on her knees, almost crying out when she made it onto her feet in a hunched position. She saw the boots of the man on the ground.

“Those are military issue,” Y/n spoke softly, scanning the forest.

“Great.”

Y/n limped over to him and bent over. Her leg was pouring blood now. She took off her outer shirt and tied it around her thigh tightly and then fished the guy’s pockets. The warmth of her blood was already seeping down her leg. The guy was older, forty maybe. He had brown hair and looked like he had been eating well. She took his gun and knife that she found in his boot and tossed some beef jerky the man had at Hades.

“We could’ve eaten that.”

Y/n looked at Mina and shook her head, “Never eat anything you take off another human. Could have the infection or be rotten.”

Mina pointed at Hades, “He could get the infection.”

“He’s immune.”

“No one is immune.”

Y/n smiled sarcastically, “I have downed sick things before and he’s eaten them. He never gets sick.”

Mina made a face as she untied the dead man’s boots, “Oh god, so he ate his mother and lived?”

Y/n nodded, “Yeah probably. I try not to think about it.”

“You said he never ate her.”

Y/n shrugged as she scanned the forest and spoke quietly, “I want to gross you out ir scare you while I was fixing your friend’s wounded leg. We just met. I was trying to be polite- get the bird.”

She took the boots and the bird and walked over to Y/n, “Need a hand?”

Y/n leaned on her and Hades came up on her other side. He was less scared now.

“He got all crazy and started scratching at the door. He tried to open the door himself. I knew something was wrong. He led me right to you.”

Y/n brushed a hand through his dense fur. It wasn’t the first time he’d saved her life and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

As they walked back to the cabin Y/n felt sick and afraid. There was no doubt that the army guy was not alone.

Her small cabin was under attack and the shirt around her leg was soaked red. She felt weak. She was afraid that the bullet was still in her thigh and thought about the fact that Mina was now the only able bodied person. Her safety and comfort was gone and in her mind she could hear the tearing and screaming again. As she walked through the door, Mina helped her to the other chair. She sat on the edge and tried to not get blood everywhere.

Hades looked worried, his eyes were concerned and full of expression. He nudged her and Y/n scratched his face and kissed the top of his head.

“I can’t believe you thought I shot you. That’s really what you think I’d do after you helped Kirishima?”

Y/n wobbled slightly from the blood loss and tried to muster a smile, “No, but I was scared. I’m glad it wasn’t you.” She felt the chair against the back of her head and the ceiling started to spin. She felt like she might throw up but then everything goes black.

--

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                             Lee Minho, who is also known as Min;                                        a 22 year old son of Akbul.                                  He is a security guard at Babylon.

FC NAME/GROUP: Lee Minho (Lee Know), Stray Kids CHARACTER NAME: Lee Minho, goes by simply “Min” AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 22 | October 25, 1998 PLACE OF BIRTH: Gimpo, South Korea OCCUPATION: Security Guard at Babylon HEIGHT: 5’8” WEIGHT: 120 lbs DEFINING FEATURES: Round scar on the front and back of his left upper arm from a through-and-through bullet wound.

PERSONALITY: To strangers, Min seems cold and untouchable; a quiet figure who sticks to the shadows. He almost seems like a shadow himself, the way he sticks close to the few friends he has. He isn’t one for small talk and is rather snarky by nature, so he can come off as a jerk at times.

However, once you get to know him, he is more sassy and funny than you would have expected. He has a strange sense of humour, often employing self-deprecating or threatening jokes that he can deliver with a very straight face.

HISTORY: [ TW: death, gun violence, blood ]

Lee Minho was born to a struggling single mother. The first ten years of his life were happy, but not exactly easy- marked by tattered hand-me-downs from his slightly older cousins, meager school lunches and a shabby apartment that always seemed to have something wrong with it. But it wasn't so bad. He was very close with his mom, and he would later credit his upbringing for teaching him to be scrappy and resourceful and clever.
 Then, his mother met Kwon Wonyoung. They had a whirlwind romance, which essentially meant that one day ten-year-old Min was being introduced to this man who seemed very successful and kind and fun; and within five months, he was the ring bearer at their wedding.
 From then on, life was a lot different. They moved into a nice suburban house. Min was enrolled in a private school where he thrived. His mom started working with Wonyoung at his company. For the first time in his life, they were living carefree and comfortably. Min was able to focus on his studies, proudly proclaiming that he wanted to go to business school like his step-dad had.
 However, Min did begin to become suspicious as he grew older. Wonyoung's vague company seemed to do business at odd hours, and worked with a lot of cash. Sometimes, people who made his skin crawl came to the house to have hushed conversations with his parents. His mother, who had once been like his best friend, had withdrawn from him- still loving, but distant and distracted. It all seemed very fishy, but he was not sure what to think about it. He did not want to jump to drastic conclusions.

then, one chilly autumn day when he was sixteen, Min came home from a study group to find the front door ajar. He did not even have time to take a step closer before something hard collided with the back of his head and everything went black. When he woke up, he and his parents were tied to their kitchen chairs. Something cold and hard was pressed to his temple. He stayed quiet as his parents and the strangers in their home exchanged words.

“Tell us where the money is, or I’ll blow your son’s head off!”

“We don’t have it! It was… stolen!” Even to him, his father did not sound genuine.

“Awfully nice home for someone who lost everything. Isn’t this kitchen new?”

He saw his parents’ faces blanch, tears streaming down his mother’s face, as the man holding the gun to his head switched the safety off. He grit his teeth, hands gripping the arms of the chair so tight that his knuckles were white. His heart was hammering in his chest, the rush of his blood so loud in his ears that everything else seemed muted.

“Did you really think that you could double-cross the Bang Family and live to tell the tale? You’re not that stupid.”

“P-Please… Please don’t hurt my s-son!” His mother screamed, struggling fruitlessly against her restraints.

He saw a small movement from his periphery. The man’s trigger finger flexing. He clenched his eyes shut— but whatever he had been expecting didn’t come. Just a small, hollow click. The gun was empty. He did not know whether he wanted to laugh or scream.

“I know where the money is.” He heard himself say. It was a lie. He hadn’t even known that there was money— drug money or whatever the hell it was. But he had to do something, and he had always been a good bluff.

Maybe too good.

“That’s a good boy.” The gun lowered, and a rough hand came up to pat his head. And then the other two men in the room raised their weapons and shot his parents in the head.

Min let out a small, strangled cry just as all the lights in the house went out, leaving it pitch black. Even the glow of the moon and streetlights didn’t seem to filter in through the windows. He went to pull against his restraints, but they were suddenly undone, falling away from his limbs easily. He ran in the direction of the front door, his movements somehow soundless. When he reached for the handle, it was right where he thought it was. And then he was out in the yard, scrambling toward the road.

That was when a small group of people came out of no where, rushing past him and shooting at the men who had killed his parents as they stumbled out of the dark house. He stopped in his tracks, turning to watch the men fall dead on the porch. His legs buckled beneath him and he fell to his knees, tears streaking his cheeks. Through blurred vision, he watched a few people go into his house while another approached him and crouched at his side. A warm hand touched his shoulder, a reassuring voice saying something he couldn’t quite process. He just nodded numbly, his eyes still on the front door.

He had been by Vincent’s side ever since. Fiercely loyal to the man who had saved his life, he committed himself to helping take down the people who had ordered the deaths of his family, driven equally by a desire for revenge and a need for justice. He was basically living on borrowed time, so why not become a Dark Angel and make sure that no other families were torn apart like his was?

It took years, but eventually he got to face the people who had had his parents killed. Now an adult with some handle on his strange power over the dark, he felt confident and strong and ready. But things went wrong. One of their own was killed, a girl who had been like a big sister to him. Knelt beside her body, trying to stop the blood flowing from her wounds, he hardly even noticed when Vincent dispatched his parents. Suddenly, seeing them dead didn’t matter to him anymore.

The group drifted apart after that. Min was directionless, listless. He returned home to Gimpo and worked to dismantle another petty drug ring, but it did not feel the same as when he had been part of a group. He felt like he did not have a purpose anymore.

And then Vincent mentioned Mount Phoenix while they were chatting on the phone, an island not far from Incheon that Min had never even heard of. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so useless with Vincent around again- and besides, he still owed the man a life debt.

“Where’s this place? You mind if I crash on your couch for a bit? I’m bored out of my fucking skull.”

PANTHEON: Mayan CHILD OF: Akbul POWERS: Min has the ability to manipulate darkness- summoning it and bend it to his will. Additionally, he can move completely undetected within darkness/shadows. STRENGTHS: Street-smart, sassy, observant, stealthy, loyal. WEAKNESSES: Can come off as rude or aloof, tends to punch first and ask questions later, easily bored, lacks purpose.

[girlbabyvelez]

Angel // Zabdiel de Jesus

Summary: You’re the nurse who helps Zabdiel and he falls for you, to him you’re his angel.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Gun violence, mentions of blood, hospitals, and a gunshot wound.

Shoutout to @smoljoelito​ for helping me with the medical smart side of this! ily bby

It was supposed to be another regular day. They were just picking up some essentials from the local bodega before they went back to shooting Honey Boo. It was a little bit of time they were able to relax without thinking about this music video and stressing about their upcoming tour. 

But it wasn’t just another regular day. He came in shouting that everyone remains where they are. Then he yelled at the clerk to hand over all the money but the clerk was only a 16-year-old kid just filling in for his dad while he went to check on his mom. 

Chris, Richard, Erick, and Joel just stayed frozen in their place, they were scared and they had every right to be but Zabdiel couldn’t let this happen. One moment he was standing beside Chris and the next he was beside the thief struggling to get the gun out of his hands. They both seemed to try to fight for the gun but in the end, the thief won. 

“What the fuck?! I told your ass to stay put!” He yelled at pointed the gun at Zabdiel. He shook his head at the blonde-haired boy and he pulled the trigger.

Time seemed to stop at that moment, the moment the bullet pierced his body and he fell to the ground to avoid another bullet. He could feel the blood rushing out of his body and soaking his clothing.

“Zabdiel! Zabdiel stay with me!” Erick shouted as he rushed over to his friend once the gunman ran out of the building. He placed his hands over the wound to try to lessen the bleeding, trying to help his friend. All Zabdiel could see was the blurred movements of his friends. He knew that he might not make it through this. 

~

You bounced on the balls of your feet as you heard the sirens getting louder. You heard this trauma patient was coming in with a gunshot wound, and you knew how hard it was to come back from something like that. But you had hope and you were ready to do anything to help them. 

As soon as the ambulance pulled into the bay everyone sprung into action, pulling open the ambulance doors. You saw him first and the first thing you noticed was his eyes filled with fear and the tears that seemed to escape. 

“22-year-old male, gunshot wound to the right shoulder, pulse is weak. He’s lost a lot of blood.” The paramedic informs you as she rolls him out. You grab onto one side of the stretcher as everyone begins to roll him into the hospital. You looked back down at him and made sure his oxygen mask was on properly, while you were doing this he reached his left hand up and grabbed yours. Your eyes find his and you know that you needed to reassure him, you were going to do everything to help him. 

“Hey, we’re going to help you. You just got to fight too because you can make it through this.” You tell him. You finally reach the trauma room to assess the extent of his injuries before you were to decide what you would need to do. The leading doctor began to shout out orders to connect him to the machines and give him some medication so he could bear the pain of what you guys were about to do. 

You looked down at him once again and he grabbed your hand. You looked at him softly because you guys were about to cause him more pain just to make see if there was an exit wound. 

“We’re going to have to move you to your side to see if there’s an exit wound. It’s going to hurt okay, but we’ve given you some medication and you need to bear with us.” You whisper to him. He nods at your words, understanding that it needed to be done. “You can hold onto my hand.” And with that, the other nurses and doctors help grab him and move him to his side. The blonde boy grabs your hand a little tighter and he grimaces at the movement that caused him pain but you just squeezed his hand to reassure him.

“Okay, there is an exit wound. Now we need to run some tests to see if the extent of internal damage and then we’ll have surgery. Y/L/N give him so O-neg and run tests to see his blood type and antibodies.”

~

Zabdiel. That was his name, you got it from his bandmates when they came in and gave you some information to finish his chart and contact his family. You were glad he had a big support system, it would ease the recovery, especially since his fans would also bombard him with love and support. You were in his room again, checking his vitals as you waited for him to wake up.

He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the fluorescent lights. He groaned, his entire right side felt sore and it ached. You look over to see him waking up and looking at his surroundings.

“Hey Zabdiel,” You gently say and he looks over at you. “Let me get the doctor real quick.” 

“W-wait.” He manages to mumble out, stopping you in your tracks. You turn towards him for a moment before reaching for the pitcher of water that was on the turning table. You poured him some in a cup and inserted a straw, stepping over to him. 

“Here drink some water,” You order and bring the straw towards his lips so he can drink some. 

“I want to say thank you. I thought I wasn’t going to make it and you reminded me I could.” He tells you and you could hear his beautiful accent peak through.

“You’re a fighter Zabdiel.”

“Wait how come you know my name and I don’t know yours?”

“Y/N.” “Qué nombre tan hermoso,” He whispers and you nod at his words.

“Gracias. El tuyo también.” You respond and he just stares at you for a moment. You were an angel to him, a stranger who helped and comforted him at the scariest time of his life. But he never met someone so kind like you, maybe this was a bright side to nearly dying. “Now let me go get the doctor because you have some visitors.”

Soon you came back into his room with the doctor by your side. The doctor stayed at the end of the bed while you walked to Zabdiel's side. You smiled warmly at the boy before looking back at the doctor. 

“Zabdiel, how are you feeling?” The doctor questions. Zabdiel shakes his head at the question. 

“I’m feeling sore on my right side and it hurts. Is that normal?” Zabdiel questions. He wanted to get all of the information to know how he truly was doing. He didn’t want anything else to go wrong. 

“Yes, that is normal. It’s going to be sore and in pain for a while. Luckily the only damage the bullet caused is some damaged nerves in your shoulder that we were able to repair but it will be sore for a while and you will need physical therapy to help move those muscles in your arm.” The doctor explains and Zabdiel nods his head. He was grateful it wasn’t anything too bad because it definitely could have been. But it was going to be hard on him, trying to recover from this. “You’ll be here for a few more days, we just want to ensure everything’s going well and that you’re recovering. Y/N here is your nurse and will be checking up on you in the meantime. If you have any concerns please feel free to let us know so we can help. Any questions?” 

~

You gently removed the old dressing from his wound, you wanted to be as gentle as you could so you could avoid causing Zabdiel any discomfort. It was the first time he was going to see his wound since he got shot so you knew it was going to be rough. 

“Am I going to have a scar?” Zabdiel questions as he looks down at the stitched up wound. You smiled as you cleaned around the edges of the wound. 

“Yeah. But the bright side is you can impress the ladies,” You joked as you focused on the wound. He shook his head at your words. Over the past few days he’s gotten to really know you, he now better understood his angel but he didn’t want to be ‘just a patient’ to you. 

“I only want to impress one lady.” He mumbles but you hear him. 

“Ooh who?” You question. You focus on continuing to change the dressing but his focus is on you. 

“Y/N,” He calls and you flick your eyes up to his. He gave you this look, this look that you were everything to him. Your face was only a few inches from him but he didn’t want to make the wrong move. 

“Zab-” You began but he cut you off by placing his left hand on your cheek.

“Si no quieres que te bese, por favor, di algo,” He whispers and he waits to see if you respond but you only just stared at him. You nodded and he used his hand to guide your face to his. Your lips met his and it was something new and different for the two of you. It was a slow and soft kiss, the two of you being gentle and afraid to go too far with each other. You pulled away from him first, just resting your forehead against his. 

“You know I owe you for helping me.” He whispers. You shake your head at him, he didn’t owe you for anything. This was your job and this was what you loved. 

“No Zabdiel, you really don’t.”

“Let me repay you, how about once I’m discharged, I can take you on a proper date? After all you are my angel.”

[namjoonspiration]

ON [1]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You and your best friend Jungkook grew up in the only Mage village in the corner of the Citadel--the last civilization on Earth. When the humans feel threatened by the magic abilities of your people, you are taken away from your family. Thankfully, Jungkook remains by your side.

Warnings/Tags: violence, hate, imprisonment and forced labor (but, it’s not hardcore or extremely upsetting because that’s not what this story is about), finding happiness even in the darkest of places, kissing

Author’s Note: Welcome to my second BTS fanfic! Thank you guys for all the support for my first one (Saudade ft. Jimin)! I’m a little late in posting this, but here it is finally. This is chapter 1 out of 6 (maybe?). It won’t be super long. BUT this is my interpretation/imaginative storyline I created based on the ON music video. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Part 1

Year 3040 – 379 years after the Fall of the World

“Y/n, please be careful! I won’t wash your clothes again if you fall in the mud, and you’ll be wearing it for the next week,” your mother warns as your little legs took you farther and farther away from the hut—your home. You reply back with a high-pitched okay, only half-paying attention to what she said. You are too excited about today’s mission to give thought to anything else. The wind helps carry you faster, lifting your feet off the ground and whipping your hair in front of you.

The dirt under you became wet and tried to suction you to the ground as your trail changed from dirt paths to the tilled fields. The ever-looming walls that always remained in two directions of your vision at all times grew even more gigantic with each step towards the end. And by the end, you mean it the part where those two walls connect, keeping you and everyone in your village inside. These walls continued around in a massive rectangle that encased the Citadel from the outside world, like an army of giants.

You search amongst the kids running about near the East wall for your best friend. “Kookie!” You call. “Kookie!”

Jungkook, whose mouth is pressed in concentration, looked up from the lily he was trying to levitate. “Here!”

“Did you find the rabbit again?” You asked about today’s mission, watching him staring intently at the flower top.

“Yeah! You can see him from here.” He abandons the daisy and rushes to the wall. You run after him. He peeks through one of the holes caused by the many cracks in aged pewter stone. “He’s right there. He’s nibbling on that patch of grass,” he moves and gestures for you to look with a floppy wave of his small hand.

You peer through with one eye and spot the rare brown speckled rabbit. It was having some lunch on the thin short grass that covered the endless open environment outside. “How do you know it’s a he?” You ask.

“I just do,” Jungkook shrugs, tapping at the wall with the toe of his shoes.

“But I named it Princess Brownie, so it’s a girl,” you counter.

Jungkook crosses his arms. “No, its name is Captain Carrot.”

“Not so! We named it Princess Brownie the last time we saw it,” you pout, looking back out the hole. Suddenly, you spot another bunny—and then baby bunnies! “Oh my gosh! More rabbits!” You shout in excitement.

“Lemme see, lemme see!” Jungkook pushes against your shoulder, trying to see outside too. “Are those babies?”

“Yes! It’s a family!” You both watch them sniff around the grass for a few moments longer. Then, the two bigger bunnies hop closer to each other and rub noses. “Bunny kisses!” Jungkook ‘ews’ in disgust. “What? S’Cute,” you say.

“Kissing is gross,” he screws up his face, waving his arms in front of him in a ‘no’ fashion.

“Oh yeaahh?” you drawl, eyeing him mischievously and making a kissy face. Jungkook’s eyes widen in terror, and he turns on his heel to run away. You begin to chase after him, quickly gaining distance on him. Even though he’s a year older than you, you have pretty long legs for a six-year-old. He looks over his shoulder to see how close you are and begins yelling in fear. He pushes himself to run faster. Both of you dodge other kids left and right, most of them calling for you two to stop before the adults scolded you for causing such a ruckus. Jungkook ceases his wild screaming but doesn’t stop running.

Eventually, you get really tired. You stop, hands resting on your legs and you try to catch your breath. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice that you stopped chasing him. You sit against the cold stone of the wall, calming your breathing.

Sometime later, Jungkook circled back and found a seat next you.

You were caught up in your thoughts when he asked you what was wrong. “I wish we could go outside.” He knew what you meant. The outside world beyond the Citadel. No one ever went outside the walls unless they were ordered by the Governing Circle to find medicines and supplies, but very rarely did it happen because it was dangerous for those who went out and then came back in to where everyone was living.

“I think we will one day,” Jungkook says optimistically.

“You think so?” Despite his hope, your voice was sad. After a few moments of silence, “You promise?”

He gives you a closed-lipped smile. “I promise we’ll go outside one day.”

You smile, playfully bumping your shoulder into his. When then he bumps back, and then you bump back, and he bumps back until it turns into an all-out pushing contest to see who is stronger.

A boom sounds, like a cannon being fired.

You and Jungkook cease your shoving, startled by the sound.

A sequence of chirps and whistles followed immediately after.

You look at each other in panic, both knowing the meaning of those sounds.

The village was in trouble. And the Governing Circle was on their way.

Scrambling to your feet, you begin to run back towards the house with Jungkook running fast by your side.

“Mommy!” You lock your arms around your mother’s legs. “What’s happening?” You cry. Everyone in your village had dropped everything and stood in the crowd at the village gates. Jungkook had left you to find his parents, and you lost him in your line of vision amongst the throes of people.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.” You mother reassures softly, patting your head and wiping your tears away. Her voice is comforting, but her expression is anything else but as she looked beyond the gates.

Men on horseback are approaching the village entrance. Soldiers with guns in tow and directly two horses pulling an iron prison wagon behind them. You mother tightens her grip on you into steel, pulling her behind you. You could feel tremors of fear shaking her.

They enter the village, the Lead Governor of the Circle standing at the forefront. He is wearing an eye patch rumored to be cover a nasty eye infection that never healed. A thick scar ravages the cheek underneath, and his icy blue eye drills fear into those who dared to look him directly in the face.

“People of the Mage community,” his voice booms, making you clutch your mother’s skirt tighter in your hands. “You’ve betrayed our trust, and it has resulted in several deaths of our brave men who dare venture outside the Citadel for our survival.”

“We haven’t killed anyone!” An elderly Mage steps forward and her shouts. Her words are very quickly echoed by the other adult Mages around her.

“Silence! Or you’ll be arrested for insubordination!” He threatens. You watch as those who had the courage to speak up suddenly cower back with their heads bowed. “Nearly thirty years ago when our kinds signed the Treaty of Coexistence, you Mages—the last of your kind—agreed that you would not use magic to keep the darkness that plagues this Earth away. And in return, we allowed you to enjoy the safety of the Citadel. Now, magic has brought that evil closer to us, and it has killed our own and it’s your fault!” His face is bright red with rage.

“So, we’re here to stop you from breaking the law any further and to save the lives of humans. First, arrest the children!”  He orders. Shouts of protest erupts from the Mages. Your mother cries for them to not take you, hiding you as much as she can. Terror makes your blood turn cold. Why were they here to arrest you? Where were they going to take you? You didn’t do anything.

“They don’t have magic! We do! Take us and not the children!” One of the younger parents steps forward, tears running down her face. She holds her wrists out to the Lead Governor.

He scoffs at her, a horrid laughter scratching its way out of his throat. He nods at one the armed soldiers.

And he shoots her.

She falls to the ground, blood staining the dirt underneath her.

It becomes absolute chaos. Screaming, yelling, pleading, Mages fighting against the soldiers from taking their children, who were wailing as they were dragged from their parents. But even in the midst of the ear-ringing pandemonium you could hear the Lead Governor’s voice loud and clear. “We know about you Mages! You lose your magic at old age, so you pass it all onto your offspring! They are dangers to the citizens of the Citadel and will be treated as such!”

An iron-grip wraps around your arm, and you scream. “Mommy!”

“NO! Don’t take her! She isn’t a danger to anyone! She’s only six years old!” You mother pleads, keeping a locked grip around your waist. “Please, please, please…” Your mother is crying hysterically, mirroring you. Two soldiers grab at her shoulders, trying to pull her away from you, but she won’t relent. A solider hits her in the head with the butt of his gun, and she collapses. She loses hold on you, and you’re dragged away.

“Mom! Momma!,” you cry hoarsely, kicking at the soldiers hauling you into the iron wagon. Your knees bruise against the unforgiving metal when they throw you in with the other sobbing children. You crawl, scrambling away from the opened door to the iron box, sitting in the far corner. You curl into a tight ball, burying your face in your arms.

“Y/n!” Jungkook shouts, moving from his spot to sit close to you.

“Kookie…” You sob, looking up at him. He has a growing bruise on his cheekbone, tear tracks staining his face. You couldn’t think of what else to say. Nothing made sense.

The soldiers throw the last of the kids in the box and slams the doors into locked position. It becomes very dark. The only sunlight streaming in is from the intermittent line of small punched out circles at the very top of the box that none of you could reach. Then the wagon is moving, the protests of your mom and the Mages growing fainter until you can no longer hear them.

Jungkook rests his head on your shoulder and gently, carefully, holds your pudgy hand in his. “We have each other.” After a while, you calm down, exhausted but soothed by your best friend’s presence. “I’ll keep my promise,” he murmurs. That promise had suddenly become so much more, unspoken between the two of you. The promise you’ll both be freed one day from the prison you had just entered. The promise that one day the Citadel will simply appear as a tiny box in the distance.

Year 3049 – 388 years after the Fall of the World

Nine years didn’t change much. Since the day you and the other children were taken, you’ve grown up together in a dank prison, let out only when the soldiers have been ordered to take you to a cased-in farmland. They had used the word “greenhouse” to describe. But that didn’t make this whole situation more peaceful or less wrong. When you first arrived at the prison, the soldiers pushed all of you in pairs into individual cells. Thankfully, because you and Jungkook never let go of each other’s hand, you got assigned to the same cell.

You both had sat in there for days at first, periodically receiving water and bread with cheese. You’d made sure to split it evenly between you and Jungkook while also agreeing to ration it as long as you could. Neither of you could tell what time it was or how many days had passed. The food never came at regular enough intervals to tell what meal it was.

Then, one day, all of you were herded to the “greenhouse.” There the Governor of Agriculture was waiting to reveal how your life would be moving forward. He was an elderly man with a white beard, dressed in tan cotton robes. He looked kind to you at first glance, but as you learned so far in the past—well, you guessed—several days, nothing seemed so clear anymore.

But you always welcomed a surprise.

Mercifully, he had vouched for all the Mage children, appealing to the rest of the Governing Circle that your magic would be valuable to the survival of humans.

If there was a moment that any of this became even more confusing, it was that moment.

The Governor of Agriculture, whose real name was Michael—and preferred you to call him that—did not completely agree with the Lead Governor’s decision to prison you until they finally figured out what to do with all of you. However, you weren’t under any illusions that this guy was some kind of Saint. He still wanted the Mage children imprisoned and their magic restricted, only freed when it served to benefit the survival of the Citadel’s human citizens. A blessing, but still a curse. That blessing was—

Food.

It was certainly odd, but you realized later that there is worse labor you and the others could have been subjected too. You were taught farming skills—how to plant seeds, how to care for crops, when to harvest them. They tried to force your magic to cooperate with the plants the first year that you were there. Unfortunately, they were under the impression that your powers were in full bloom. They learned quickly at that your young age, it takes years for them to develop beyond simply being able to levitate objects—something that Jungkook forced himself to quickly master, but you could still not do even four years later.

At that point, you had become concerned that they would take Jungkook away from you and separate him into the group of older kids that were beginning to successfully get their magic to cooperate with the crops, while you would keep farming like a human. You cried to yourself every night that Jungkook wouldn’t come back for hours, nearly making yourself sick that he wouldn’t ever walk back through the cell door.

To your fortune, he always did, albeit eyes already closed, swaying with exhaustion until he collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep. He always came back like that, practically sleepwalking and overworked. You became so concerned about his health that you secretly ate less of your food and put more on his plate for him to eat the next morning. It was all you could do for him.

Then, to your surprise, one evening, he wasn’t so exhausted and caught you crying uncontrollably after a particularly bad day. “Y/n? What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked, looking you over to see if you were injured.

“They’re going to take you away from me, Kookie.” You cried. “I can’t get my magic to work. They are getting impatient with me, I can tell. They’ll find some other use for me, and I’ll never see you again.” Your sobs wracked your body again.

Jungkook shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. Goodness, when was the last time he had a haircut? It was down past his shoulders now, you thought to yourself distractedly. “That’s not going to happen. I told you, we’ll always have each other. I won’t go anywhere without you.”

“I know, Kookie, but it doesn’t change the fact that my magic doesn’t work,” you said, frustrated with yourself.

“I don’t think that it’s your magic that doesn’t work; you’re just not being able to express it.” He explained, and it slowly began to make sense to you. You’ve felt repressed the last four years you’ve been here already, thinking about your mother, who you might never be able to see again. That you’re trapped between one cage and another with no telling when you’ll be free. “I’ll help you.”

Jungkook sat crisscrossed on the damp stone of your shared cell, the only light coming in from the lamps outside your cell door. You joined him. He fished something from the pocket of his beige cotton clothes, which were too big for him. The soldiers always did that with the clothes, so as you got bigger, you’d grow into them for a few years. Less resources they had to spend on you.

He pulled out a lily and tenderly placed it between you two. You looked at him in surprise, and he simply smiled at you. “It gets a little easier to take things from the greenhouse the more time you spend up there. Try and levitate it,” he gestured to the flower, perfectly untainted with the stain of this place.

You focused all your energy on it but are only able to get it to move a tiny bit. It wasn’t even that profound. Your magic looked like nothing more than a slight draft or wave of the wind. You set your eyes downcast. You were a failure. How could you even call yourself a Mage? “I can’t do it, Kookie.”

“Yes, you can.” Your eyes met his when he gently touched the underneath of your chin to lift your head. “And you don’t have to do it alone.” He used his other hand to bring yours to meet his, palms and fingers pressed together. “Every time you want to use your magic, think of the connections you share with it. It’s in your blood; your mother gifted it to you; the other kids have it, who got it from their parents; and I have it. We’re connected by magic—a living, flowing entity that surrounds us and binds us. Think about it… You’re never alone. Believe in that.” His voice calmed your spirit and centered your magic with every word. Your eyes had fallen shut, seeing the faces of those you loved and had happy memories of. Your skin tingled and warmed until it cooled.

You opened your eyes to see the lily floating between you and Jungkook.

You stared at it, shocked. “Jungkook, are you sure you’re not making it do that?”

He merely laughed, beaming at you. “I’m sure. This is 100% all you. It’ll take more practice to master it, but now you know that it’s possible.”

You let out a shuttering breath of relief. So much of the anxiety and worry that had wrapped around your lungs like a vice finally let go, and you could breathe again. “Thank you, Kookie. I don’t know what’d I do without you.” You released your magic, throwing your arms around him in a hug.

He wrapped his arms around you, too. You can still hear the smile in his voice when he said, “You’ll never have to find out. I’ll always be here.”

Life became a little easier after that.

You were forever grateful for Jungkook’s presence in your life. You had to give back somehow, so you would secretly teach the other young kids who were struggling with their magic expression while pretending to plant seeds. Soon, every single Mage child got their magic to cooperate with the plants—getting them to grow faster and better, removing sickness and disease, increasing the yield of each crop, coaxing tropical crops to finally grow in this dry climate.

You were silently put in charge by Michael to grow oranges the next year, given a few orange seeds that had survived hundreds of years since the Fall. You weren’t sure if there was any life left in them, but it didn’t matter because your magic could get the inner workings of the seed functioning again. Getting the seed to sprout was the easy part, but it took the better part of three years for it to grow. Finally, the summer you turned sixteen, the sprouting had grown into a tree and produced oranges. Michael was so pleased that he allowed you to have two on the week of the Summer Harvest.

You were so excited to share them with Jungkook. You’ve heard the taste is like nothing like you’ve ever had before. When you were dismissed, you hurried to the Greenhouse, spotting Jungkook and gesturing for him to meet you in a hidden corner behind crates of fresh vegetables and the tool shed.

“Jungkook, look,” you whisper excitedly, showing him the bright fruits. “Oranges! I finally got them to grow!”

“Shhh,” he holds a finger up to his mouth, chuckling. “That’s awesome. I have something to show you too.” He presents his hand from behind his back to show you a handful of— “Strawberries,” he grins excitedly.

“They look amazing,” you examine them closely, pocketing the oranges in your apron.

“Yeah. They taste even better too.” He hands you one, and you don’t waste a second in biting into one. Strawberry juice escapes your mouth and dribbles down your chin. You try to catch it and wipe it off with your free hand. Jungkook chuckles again, happy to see you clearly enjoying yourself. He eats his own strawberries, and insisting you eat the last one since he’s already snuck in more than he should have while picking. After you finish, you pull out the oranges, so he can get a better look at them. “How do you eat them?”

“Well, you see, you have to peel them. The skin is too bitter and thick to eat, but the fruit on the inside…” You skillfully peel one orange and hand it to him. You quickly then peel the second one. Opening the circular fruit, you pick a fat, juicy slice and hold it between your fingers. “It’s citrus-y, but sweet. Open up,” you nod at him, excited for him to finally taste it.

He opens his mouth, and you gently plop it in. When he first bites down, his face first screws up, but then relaxes in the indulgence with a few more bites. “It tastes so good,” he says, and you giggle at his satisfied smile. “You eat some.” He pulls a slice from his orange and takes a step closer, coincidentally putting you between him and the wooden shed. He holds it out, nodding at you like how you did with them.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you before opening your mouth to receive the orange. Jungkook takes his time bringing the fruit to your lips, gently feeding you the fruit, watching your face as you pull the orange slice into your mouth and eat it. The corners of your mouth turned up at the delicious taste of the fruit and at Jungkook’s hopeful expression.

You take your turn to feed him another slice of your orange, doing it exactly as he did. He gets a playful look in his eyes, and then makes sure his lips brush your fingertips when you feed him the orange. You feel a hot blush creep onto your face, which does not go unnoticed by Jungkook. He thoughtfully eats the fruit you just gave him, reading your expression as you try to hide your red cheeks from him with a hand. When you drag your eyes back to his, he grins cutely at you, and you can’t help but blush further or fight your own grin.

Jungkook reaches a tentative hand out to brush your hair behind your ear. You had recently cut off several inches of it again with the gardening scissors you snuck from the Greenhouse again. You’d even given Jungkook a haircut, so his hair wasn’t hanging in his eyes while he worked. You were by no means perfect at it, but you did your best to make him handsome.

He smiled down at you, and you suddenly couldn’t remember when he’d gotten so much taller than you. When had the muscles in his arms appeared? When did his face begin to lose the soft roundedness of childhood? Then you wished he was seeing you the way you were seeing him just now. You weren’t kids anymore.

He brought a hand to cup your cheek, moving closer. Searching your eyes for an answer to the silent question of permission. You nodded, your nose just barely brushing his before your lips meet in your first kiss, for both you and Jungkook. Your lips were trembling against each other’s, not sure how to explore such new territory. He pulls back to search your face again.

Then, you were both smiling like complete idiots. He presses his lips to yours again and again and again until they meld perfectly in synch. Your hands come to rest on his waist. You two deepen your kiss, tasting a mix of strawberries and oranges, sweetness and citrus.

And you swear, the sun grew brighter outside the Greenhouse, its rays breaking through the cracks in its structures to shine on your faces, and the world appeared more colorful. It was euphoric. Your settings melted away, and you felt free for the first time in years. You could feel your magic dancing with his in the air around you. The plants around you perk up more in their pots, and the birds chirped a little louder. Jungkook’s hands move from your face to your waist and yours to wrap around his neck, pulling the other impossibly closer as you two lay sweet kiss after sweet kiss on each other’s lips.

When you two became breathless, you finally pull back with much reluctance. Jungkook rests his forehead against yours as you both became to giggle to yourselves. “I love you, Jungkook,” you whisper to him, hoping to keep this moment between just the two of you.

“I love you too, y/n. Always have.” He steals one last kiss from you before having to let go even though he very much did not want to, as he expressed. You assure him that you would see him later on that day, and he walks back to his station after staring at you for several moments longer, not wanting to take his eyes off you. He thought you looked positively radiant—skin pink, eyes bright, mouth pulled into a big, beautiful smile.

Thus, began several weeks of farm work and taking advantage of every possibly excuse you had to see Jungkook in the Greenhouse to steal a kiss when no one was around or to brush hands when they simply weren’t looking. Of course, then at night when you got back to your shared cell, you watched each other fall asleep while lying in your separate beds, murmuring sweet nothings and promises of your future together.

….

However, the Citadel seemed to have a way of ripping away the things you loved just when life was happy.

You and Jungkook were sitting on his bed in your cell, playing handshake games. He was quietly singing to you one of the songs from the Hymns of the Mages that he remembered from childhood. You tried to keep up with his angelic voice with your own singing but didn’t do as well as you hoped. Jungkook loved that you were singing, stealing kisses from you to make you feel better.

That’s when you heard men screaming from down the dank hallways of the prison. You were swords slashing, guns being fired. You both scrambled to your feet, rushing to get a peek out of your cell’s door to see what was happening.

The screaming and clashing of metal kept getting closer and closer until heavy footsteps rushed in your direction. “Get them out!” Doors of cells creaked open loudly, along with startled yelps of your fellow Mages.

Suddenly, a large, muscled man—a warrior—with long silver hair appeared in front of your cell, his gold eyes feral. Jungkook jumped in front of you, shielding you from the man, and pushed up back into the cell. The warrior smashed the lock with his weapon, and the door swung wide open. He stepped into the cell, weapon tight in hand and pointed towards Jungkook, who took up a fighting stance, his lips parting to reveal bared, gritted teeth.

The air sudden tasted metallic in your mouth. You realized it was because of Jungkook. His magic was radiating from him. It was like a heat wave rippling off his body. How was he doing this?

The warrior simply scowled at him and raised a hand, eyes closing shut. Then the metallic air dissipates into clean oxygen. Jungkook’s body visibly relaxed, and you stepped around him, watching the warrior curiously. Then your boyfriend said, “You’re a Mage.”

“We’re here to rescue you. Get you out of the Citadel,” he said, firmly.

“Really?” Your voice was full of hopeful.

“Yes, but we don’t have much time. I’m afraid our mole has gotten cold feet, and it won’t be long before the Citadel realizes we are here.”

We? There were other Mages, here?! Had your village finally figured out how to save its children and escape the clutches of the Governing Circle once and for all?

“Let’s go!” He shouted at both of you before stomping out of the cell to bark other orders.

Jungkook led you out first, following close behind you. In the hallway, your fellow Mages were either looking around confused or eagerly following the silver-haired warrior. The warrior’s team, men you’d never seen before, shook kids from their stupors and pushed them up the dungeon steps. Jungkook made sure the younger ones—the ones that were babies when you all were taken from the village—behind you two got in front and were following.

The sounds of quick breathing and feet running on stone bounced off the prison walls. Everything seemed so quiet otherwise.

Too quiet.

“Don’t let them escape!” One of the familiar voices of a Citadel soldier called behind you. You turned around and saw men with guns approaching fast. One of the Mages shouted for the silver-haired warrior in front, who pushed the kids to keep following another one of his team to the trucks. At the last second, the warrior and two other Mages stopped an onslaught of bullets flying towards you with a wall of powerful force. The metallic taste had returned in the air, but ten times more potent than before. The warriors groaned in effort until the soldiers at last emptied their guns and had to waste precious seconds to reload. Just enough time for the Mages to raise stone spikes from the surroundings walls to block the path.

“Run!” He bellowed, urging everyone to duck from any further bullets fired.

You were all sprinting out of the dungeon, and you could taste the fresh night air. You were so close to freedom!

What you didn’t expect was the smoke that instantly invaded your lungs. There were fires everywhere outside, blurring in your vision as you ran. Screams of terror and of pain rattled your ears. More Mages. They were everywhere, fighting the Citadel’s soldiers or anyone who tried to get in their way. Bodies dropped to the ground one-by-one. They noticed their silver-haired leader emerge from the prison with their intended targets and worked ferociously to clear a path to the vehicles.

They had to get out of here. They were already out of time.

“Get in the carts!”

Mages began to pile into carts strapped to horses, but the little children were loading too slowly. The Mages put up walls of force or moved the wind to blow around everyone, creating screens of smoke. You and Jungkook, along with the other older kids hauled the younger ones up into the cart beds and closed them shut. You all hopped in after them.

“Go! Go! Go!” A Mage warrior called after everyone was on the carts.

“Wait!” Jungkook whipped around in the cart bed and saw one of the children sprinting desperately. He must have gotten lost in the chaos. Without even thinking, Jungkook jumped out of the cart, rolling onto the ground to his feet and ran for the kid.

“Stop, stop!” You shouted desperately. “There’s one more!” The silver-haired warriors gold eyes glared at you. “Please! Jungkook, hurry!”

He ran as fast as he could back to the kid, dodging bullets. He scooped up the kid, who wrapped himself tightly around Jungkook’s torso, and sprinted back. He was panting heavily, sweat running down his face. He had to make it. Pounding boots sounded closer to him, and whipped around just in time, arm outstretched and eyeing a nearby fire to direct it onto the soldiers chasing him.

They are set ablaze immediately, howling in pain as the magic in the fire burns through their flesh rapidly. Jungkook turns back on his course quickly, leaving the men on fire to become ashes as they fall to the dirt.

You slam your hand against the wood of the cart. He’s going to make it, he’s going to make it, he HAS to make it! “Jungkook!” You called, desperate for him to run faster.

He gritted his teeth, willing his legs to move faster. He’s so close. 10 meters. Then, out of nowhere a black guard rammed into his side, sending all three of them reeling off track.

“No!” You cried.

“We need to go!” One of the Mages ordered. “The others can’t hold the gate any longer!” You looked towards the gates; they were slowly closing. If the warrior didn’t instruct those horses into full sprint in the next ten seconds, none of you were going to make it out.

Jungkook let go of the kid and blocked the black guard from attacking the boy. “Go to the carts,” he shouted. A large cut on his forehead sends blooding dripping down the side of his face into his eye.

The young Mage ran towards the cart, and you hopped out, ready to hoist him in.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you hurry him along and toss him into the back. You turned around, hoping to see Jungkook running towards you.

But he’s not. He’s still trying to fight off the black guard.

The black guard suddenly brandished a knife from his sleeve and cut deep into Jungkook’s arm. He cried out in pain, hand flying to the injury. It’s the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. This wasn’t just a knife wound. He felt like all of the magic in his blood was burning in his veins.

“No!” You tried to run towards him, to save him! But thick arms wrap around you and haul you back to the cart. “No! Let me go! We can’t leave without him!” You kick and punch the Mage warrior who had a hold on you, but he won’t relent dragging you further away.

“We’re leaving now!” He hauled both of you into the cart bed, his grip like iron.

“Jungkook! Please!” Tears burned like acid in your eyes and down your face.

Jungkook has flipped on his stomach, still screaming in his pain. And he sees you, trying to fight your way to him. You’ll have to leave without him, he thought, but this isn’t goodbye. No… A new kind of rage filled him, one that scorched more than the pain in his body. Gathering the last bit of strength, he had left, he yelled as loud as he possibly could. “I promise!”

I promise I will find you again. I promise we’ll be free someday. I promise we’ll burn the Citadel to the ground. I promise to stay alive.

You heard him. Every last one of those promises etching themselves into your heart. You felt his rage, his pain, and his relentless love for you.

The carts hauled faster and faster, and Jungkook grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Even as everyone looked towards the gates that were closing with each passing second, you couldn’t move your eyes from where you can see Jungkook being lugged to his feet and taken away.

“Come on!” You here the warrior driving shout in frustration, urging the horses to go faster.

The stone gates get closer and closer

No, we won’t make it, it’s too close. We’ll crash the truck.

The Mage warrior bellows a cry of war, snapping the reins quickly in one last effort.

And then you’re through the gates, the stone booming shut behind you.

Deafening silence sucks the sound out of the air like a vacuum.

You stop fighting the Mage and fall to the floor of the cart bed, staring numbly at the Citadel—a locked box, probably to never be opened again. Black smoke billowed up into the night sky in thick clouds, the inner walls of the Citadel lit orange by flame. And Jungkook—your best friend, your true love—your Jungkook, was still inside.

You felt a hand at the back of your neck, and then a sensation that stole the breath from your lungs and froze the blood in your veins.

You fell, out cold, and the Citadel became a tiny box in the distance, until it was nothing more.

[alluremin]

the bad in each other | 1

pairing | jeon jungkook x female reader

genre | zombie apocalypse au

premise |  A year after the world goes to hell, you find yourself still alive by the grace of whatever watched over you. You’ve seen people you care about being torn to shreds before your eyes. You’ve seen horrors that, before the infection struck, you couldn’t have imagined. The place you once knew, called home, was gone. All that remained were the mindless dead and humans who had lost their humanity. Now, you can do nothing but protect those you love, no matter the cost.

warnings |  angst, extreme violence, smut (future parts), swearing, alcohol use

word count | 5.1k

parts |  intro  • one  •  two  •  three  •  ?

playlist | inspo | character profiles

Their screams play on a loop in your brain. The smell of rotting flesh and gun smoke refuse to leave your nose. Jae’s footsteps crunch the fallen leaves on the ground, Kate briefly stumbles over a broken the railroad tie covered by the dead foliage. It’s been three days since it happened.

****

You, Jae, and Kate have been with a community since the start. Everybody called it “Safe Haven”, and it was just that. The large walls surrounding the rustic cabins and the fertile soil made for a sustainable community. Children, like Jae, laughed and played, all the while learning the ways of the new world. You all thought that you were safe from harm, from the dead, but you thought wrong. It was three days ago when a horde heard those laughing children inside your community walls and knocked them from their foundation. It’s been three days since nearly everybody you knew and love died right before your eyes, and you did nothing to help.

Jae and his mother came to the community a couple weeks after you and Kate. She was sick and without proper treatment, wouldn’t last the year. There weren’t a lot of you back then, the original members of Safe Haven were mostly men, hunters who lived their lives in the woods. Then there was you and Kate, med students who soon became healers in the community. Then there was Jae and his mother. You spent a lot of time with the, now 13-year-old, and his mom. She deteriorated quickly without her treatment, and a month after their arrival she passed. You had to take care of her after she was gone, you had learned what happened to people after they died, and Jae didn’t deserve to see her come back as one of them. Afterward, you took him under your wing and taught him all he needed to know, you promised his mom that you would.

****

You could feel your body swaying as you walked. When the three of you fled, you didn’t have time to fill your canteens or grab any food. You just grabbed your emergency backpacks and ran until the screams were far behind you. Exhaustion crept its way into your brain and everything around you went in and out of focus. Sounds are muffled, almost as if you were underwater. You don’t remember the last time you had a drink of water, slept, or eaten. Kate constantly questioned you if you had eaten any of the little food in your supply or if you’d even had a sip of the water in your canteen. You lied to her, you didn’t want her to worry about you on top of everything that you all had been through. In reality, you gave the last of your water and food to Jae, insisting that he take it, telling him that you had already had enough for yourself. You hadn’t.

Your head felt heavy, your feet starting to drag underneath you. It felt like there were cement blocks under your feet. The ground beneath you felt like it was spinning, causing you to stumble. You drop to one of your knees then and clutch the side of your head, shooting pain in your temple signaling you that something was wrong. Medical school, although you had only been in your first year, had taught you enough to know that you were battling the effects of dehydration.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Jae, who was no more than a step behind you, crouches next to you and put a hand on your shoulder. His question prompts Kate to stop dead in her tracks and spin to face you.

“Oh shit, kid, what’s wrong?” You tried to giggle at her nickname she insisted on using all the time, but instead, only a heave of air comes out of your mouth. “Fuck, Jae do you have any water left?” He shakes his head in response. You close your eyes but are met with a slap on your cheek from your best friend. You knew what she was trying to do, keep you awake, keep you moving. Regardless of how hard you tried, you can’t keep your lids open, they felt heavier than cement below your brows. Under each of your elbows, you felt an arm lifting your body, Jae obviously on your right, he was shorter than Kate. You use all of your strength to move each of your legs, but it was as if you were wearing lead shoes. Black spots appeared in your limited vision, you could feel your legs give out beneath you. You could barely hear the muffled voices of the people carrying you, and you swore in the distance you could see figures approaching. You didn’t have enough time to determine if they were alive or dead before the world went black.

****

It felt as if the world had ceased to exist and you were just floating through nothingness. Every now and then, you’d catch small bits of conversation and brief flashes of light, but none that could tell you where you were. Maybe this is what happens after you die, your subconscious trying to piece together bits of information from your life. The medical side of you says that this is impossible, but who knows, maybe there is something after death. You hope that you’ll see your family again.

As quickly as the calm overtook your brain when you blacked out, did it go away. A loud ringing in your ears jolts your mind back down to Earth and a pounding headache replaces the subspace you were in not seconds before. All at once, every part of your body starts working again and when you open your eyes and are met with a wooden ceiling, you sit up as fast as your body will allow. This not only causes your headache to intensify but also brings about a headrush unlike any you had ever experienced.

“Whoa, not so fast,” a male voice you don’t recognize is accompanied by a push to your shoulder. “You’ve been out for three days, take it easy.”

You crack one eye open as the man presses your shoulders into the cushions of a couch beneath you. Not caring that moment for pleasantries, you swat his hands away from your body. This man was a stranger. “Jae? Kate?” Your hoarse voice yelps to your “family”, hoping that one of them would respond. In the corner of the room, a floorboard creaks, drawing your attention in that general direction. Jae stands and you meet his eyes as he runs over to you, falling on his knees in front of you and putting you in a crushing embrace. The strength in his scrawny body still surprises, but right now you don’t have the mental energy to tease him for it.

“I thought you were gonna’ die, y/n. You scared the shit out of me!” You pull back from him and move to sit up again, using the back of the couch to support your still weak body.

“Watch your mouth, Squirt,” you tease. The man standing next to you clears his throat, making his presence known.

“I’m Seokjin. My brother and I were out checking our rabbit traps when we saw you guys. Jae and Kate were trying to carry you, so I insisted to Jungook that we help you.”

“Uh, I’m y/n, but you probably already knew that… did you say three days?”

“Yeah, we’ve been spoon feeding you water and soup for the past couple of days. Every now and then you’d be conscious enough for us to get you some fluids, you know, without drowning you,” he sits down on the couch next to you, it’s the first time you take in his appearance. Seokjin’s hair is black, messy, and wavy. It almost looks as if he had been giving himself half-assed haircuts for the last year. He was wearing a simple grey t-shirt with a blue zip-up hoodie and a pair of black jeans. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing shoes and upon wiggling your toes, you found that you weren’t either.

“Thank you, um, Seokjin. Where’s Kate?” You didn’t want to sound ungrateful for everything this guy had done for you, but your best friend’s absence was panic-inducing.

“She and Jungkook went out to get wood for the fireplace. They’ll be back in a couple minutes.” His eyes met your own and he offered you a small small, You reciprocated to the best of your ability then broke eye-contact to take in your surroundings. Everything in the room was made of wood, so you deducted that you were in a cabin. From the small window to your right, you could tell you were still in the woods and the light flooding in told you it was daytime.

Jae had since moved from his spot on the floor to sit next to you on the couch. You put your arm around his shoulder and ran your fingers through his long hair, knowing that it was soothing for him. Ever since his mom had passed, you had used it to comfort him when he was upset. You could tell that the past six days were hard on him. First with what happened at Safe Haven, then with you. The bags under his eyes told you all you needed to know. He had ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’ on his lap. You found the book for him a few months back, but you were surprised to know it was one of the things he grabbed when you escaped from the horde. “Hey Jae, how much sleep have you gotten?” You questioned him.

“I’m not sure, not knowing what was gonna happen, I dunno’ it was hard to sleep,” he dropped his head and you pulled him into another hug. You let go of him them and stretch your stiff limbs and crack your neck, alleviating some of the pressure off of your body.

“It totally slipped my mind, but can I get you something? Water, food?” Seokjin stands and walks around the side of the couch to the kitchen behind you.

“Oh, actually do you know if there’s any ibuprofen or tylenol around here? Kate usually carried some in her bag. My head is just pounding,” you smile sheepishly at him, feeling guilty for asking more from him when he and his brother had already done so much for you.

“I can get it for you,” Jae announces. You smile at him as he scampers off to the corner of the room where all of your bags are stacked together. A tap on your shoulder alerts you to Seokjin’s presence behind you, offering you a bottle of water. A smile graces your lips as you take it out of his hands, grateful for his thoughtfulness. Jae returns to your side with a bottle of acetaminophen. You pop the lid off and pour four tablets into your palm, throwing them down your throat and gulping the water to chase the dry tablets.

“Isn’t four tablets a bit much?” Seokjin questions you, sitting down in a chair next to the couch.

“Overdosing on tylenol is the least of my concerns when it feels like my head is going-” You don’t get to finish your sentence when the front door to the cabin swings open at full force. A boy, no a man, who appears about your age, bursts his way into the cabin. The sound of the door slamming against the wall sends a splitting pain through your head, and you can’t help the glare that graces you face at that moment.

“Oh. You’re awake… it’s about damn time.” You can already tell that this guy is going to be peachy. Looking forward, you can already tell your future conversations with him aren’t going to go well.

You don’t have time to respond to him when Kate barrels into the apartment, dropping the firewood she was carrying outside the door and throws herself on top of you, crushing you in a bear hug. “You scared the shit out of me, kid. Don’t ever neglect yourself like that again or I’ll kick your ass, got it?” You can’t help but laugh at her empty threat.

“I love you too, Scooter.” She pulls back then, giving you an opportunity to turn your attention back to the boy in the doorway. He was closing the doorway, but you could tell he was doing everything in his power to avoid your eye contact. He sets the ax in his hands up against the door and drops his shoulder to remove the leather jacket adorning his body. You visibly gulp at the sheer size of the muscles on his arms and back. Not to mention the sheer amount of ink the covered his arms was not only impressive but also incredibly alluring. He turns around then, catching you gawking at the sheer amount of tattoos covering his body. He only scoffs and rolls his eyes. Peachy.

“Jungkook, I’m presuming?” You push underneath you on the couch then and stand to greet him. He only raises an eyebrow at you and offers a quick nod when you meet his eyes. “I just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”

“Yeah, well, since taking you in our food supply is running low. The last thing I want to hear from you right now is a thank you considering-”

“Jungkook, knock it off,” Seokjin stands from his spot on the couch then, but his mediation doesn’t stop your anger from rising.

“Listen, I’m trying to express my gratitude toward you guys. You don't have to be an asshole about it,” You sway your weight to one of your hips and cross your arms. You can hear Jae let out a small chuckle at your snarky remark and actions.

“Hey, this isn’t funny kid, we’re all going to starve if we don’t go out for a supply run soon!” He barely gets the sentence out before you’ve grabbed onto the front of his shirt and pulled him down so that he’s eye level with you.

“Say what you want to me, but don’t you ever, take to him like that,” you release your grip on his shirt and push him backward before walking back to the couch to sit with Jae and Kate. Seokjin slowly sinks back onto the chair as he walks Jungkook stomp down the hallway. The sound of a door slamming meets your ears and you sigh in discontent. That went well.

****

Over the course of the next 24 hours, you had become well acquainted with Seokjin. You could tell that he was a good person and always did his best to lighten to mood. Under the circumstances, some people might say that he was deliriously avoiding the realities of the world, but his antics were understandable. The jokes, the childish behavior; it wasn’t to avoid the problems that plagued the planet, it was to keep himself sane. He had that effect on others too. It had only been a week since you lost your home, but with Seokjin’s presence, coping became easier. You could tell it did the same for Kate and Jae.

Jungkook hadn’t left his room until the morning after your altercation, only joining the busy living room for a brief period of time to grab a bite to eat, then leaving as quickly as he had come in. He didn’t exchange a single word with any of you, only nodding in his brother’s direction when the latter offered Jungkook a pleasant, “Good morning!”

While you were all sitting around the dining table this morning, you told Seokjin that you wanted to leave. You were strong enough now and Jae and Kate were well rested. “We’ve been nothing but a burden to you and your brother, we can find somewhere else to go. We’re just gonna’ follow the train tracks until we come across a town.”

“Y/N, I’ve seen what you have left in your supplies, you’ll never make it and we don't have enough to spare here to give you a week's worth, especially when it comes to food. Don’t Jungkook’s attitude put you off, we haven’t been with other people since the beginning of everything. He’s never been very social, but he’s even more cynical of the good in humans after everything we’ve experienced.”

“I understand that. It’s hard to believe the good in people anymore. You’d think that we’d all try to look out for one another, you know considering the whole living versus the dead thing. We’ve heard stories of rogue communities ransacking other groups, shooting first, talking later.”

“I’d like to still believe that everybody has a shred of humanity. Like you guys. I could tell you we’re good people. I mean, Kate told me that you two took in Jae after his mom passed. Taking care of him like he was your brother.” You feel a pang in your chest as you remember your family, but you push your memories of them to the wayside. Mourning over them wouldn’t bring them to you.

“He had been with us since the start, of course taking care of him a priority. I’d like to believe that there’s good in most of us still too, at least when it counts. Are you sure it’s okay for us to stay? We don’t want to be a drain on your and Jungkook’s supplies. We’re not ones to overstay our welcome,” Kate cuts in.

“Please, stay. We need you as much as you need us. It's important that people like us stick together. Having numbers will make our lives easier, both in terms of defending ourselves, and collecting supplies. More people will make everything quick and easy.”

“I suppose, yeah. Thank you again, Seokjin for everything you two have done,” you smile in his direction.

“Call me Jin, we’re friends now. Seokjin is so formal,” he feigns a look of disgust at his statement.

“Alright, Jin it is then!” You stand from the table then and make your way to the corner of the living room where your bags were. “We should go through the supplies we have and see what we need before going on a run. I suppose you have a place in mind?”

“What do you take me for, an amateur? Of course, I have a place in mind,” Jin smirks at you from across the table as you drop two of the bags on top of it.

****

Not an hour later, you all find yourselves packing up the supplies you’ll need for your run into Jin’s black pickup. Jungkook had joined you shortly after you went through your bags, he had been listening to your entire conversation, entering the room listing off supplies he thought were necessary. You didn’t want to say you hated Jungkook, but he surely had a way of getting on your nerves. You tried to be civil with him, ignore the comment under his breath and his sighs whenever you would cut into a conversation, regardless of him being cold, you could tell he was a good person. He obviously cared about his brother, and other than when you first met, he was nice to Jae and Kate. Apparently, there was something about you that aggravated him.

The five of you loaded yourselves into the cab of the truck. The driveway on the front side of the cabin was at least 2 miles long, whoever had lived in the cabin before all of this liked seclusion, to say the least. Upon pulling out on the road, Jin put his upturned palm toward his brother in the passenger side. The younger boy let out a long groan. “C’mon, why? You do this every time we go somewhere!”

“Jungkook, I am five years older than you, therefore everything I say goes!” You, Kate and Jae, watch with confusion as to what was happening in front of you. Jungkook ignored Jin, earning him a quick twist to his left nipple. You couldn’t help but giggle at their interactions, and more importantly, the squeal that left Jungkook’s mouth. He sent you a glare when he heard you in the backseat, but you held eye contact until he looked away.

“Fine,” the younger man grumbles, reaching into the glove box and pulling out a binder. When he opened it, there were sleeves full of mixed CDs, each labeled with only a date. “What one?”

“January 14, 2012, please and thank you!” Jungkook places the CD in his brother's palm. Not a second later, the sound of ‘Mr. Blue Sky’ comes through the speakers, bringing a small smile to your face. Oh, the irony.

****

You were on the road for roughly 20 minutes before you came across three cars sitting along the side of the road, they appeared untouched. Jin slowed the truck and put it in park. “Let’s see if they’ve got anything, shall we?”

You all spilled out of the cars, Jungkook going to inspect the farthest car, Jin and Kate checking the closest, leaving you and Jae with the middle. You approached the vehicle with caution, the windows were covered in a layer of dirt and dust, making it impossible to see inside. “Jae open the door, do it fast,” he nodded at your words and you stood back, the knife in your hand at the ready. He grabbed the door handle and pulled, but the door wouldn't budge. The car jostled with the boy's effort to open the door. Just then you heard a bang against the window from the inside of the car. You ran your fingerless leather gloves across the windows, sure enough, a stiff was inside.

“Jae, wipe off the back windows, I need to see if there’s anything in there that’s worth it.” He did as he was told, using the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe the window.

“There’s blankets, some clothes, a couple of cans that I can see, oh, and there’s a first aid kit in there!”

“Well, shit.” You sighed and tilted your head at the dead eyes staring back at you. There was a gunshot wound through its chest. He had taken the easy way out. Should’ve gone for the head.

You take a step back and use your boots to kick through the glass of the back window, and manually unlock the door. You hoped that the battery was dead, the last thing you needed was the alarm going off and attracting more of them. You took a deep breath and opened the door. No sound met your ears upon your action and you couldn’t help but let out an audible sigh. Your actions had since caught the attention of your group. “Everything alright?” Jin called at you.

“Yeah, just got one in our car and the doors were locked. We can handle it,” you say, looking back at Jae.

Upon leaning into the backseat the creature in front of you twists in its seat, the sound of it ripping open its own flesh off to escape the seatbelt met your ears. The mindless creature continued to thrash, knawing its teeth at you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Grabbing hold of the back of the headrest you reached your arm around and deftly plunged your knife into the soft temple of the stiff. “Shut. Up” You leaned across all the supplies in the back seat, unlocking the opposite side, Jae taking that as his cue to jog around back and join you in going through everything.

Your car had, by far, had the most supplies in it. There were blankets, a first aid kit, some cans of food, two water jugs, and a couple of large tactical knives. If it weren’t for the fact that you had five people in your group, what you all collectively found might be enough, but you needed to make sure that you were set for a while. So, you all loaded up and headed back down the load. You reached your destination about 10 minutes later.

“We’ve been scoping this town out for the past couple weeks, trying to see if it was worth it, there's a general store that's gated off, but we didn’t feel good just charging in there and looting, we didn’t know if there were any of them inside.” Jungkook glared out the window as the truck slowed down.

Jin put the car in park, having since turned the music down to reduce noise. “Okay, so Jungkook, Kate, and Y/N, you three go scope out the store. Jungkook has bolt cutters to get you in. You guys are the brutes with handheld weapons, we want to stay as quiet as possible and I think you’re our best bets. I’ll take Jae and we’re gonna survey the town and find someplace to siphon some gas.” You all nod at the oldest and can’t help but feel grateful that he’s taking Jae with him, he’ll be safer. You give Jae a quick hug and Kate reaches past you to ruffle his hair.

The three of you assigned to the store hop out of the pickup, each of you reaching into the truck and pulling out your backpacks, Jungkook grabbing an additional duffle bag to fill. Jungkook taps the side of the vehicle, and Jin drives off down the street. You pull out your Glock, and look around the area, making sure everything is clear. Jungkook crouches down with the bolt cutters and cuts off the padlock on the metal door. You and Kate cover him from the back with caution. When you hear Jungkook push the heavy door upwards, you and your best friend turn around and follow him to the set of glass doors at the storefront. He slowly pushed against them, and they open with little protest. After entering, he turned around and locked the glass doors behind you, just in case.

Upon entering the store, everything is extremely quiet. There are a few aisles, a pharmacy at the back, and ladder leading to the roof in the back of the store. Everything seemed untouched to you, and you were surprised that the store wasn’t picked over. This must have been a community that they evacuated. Considering its size, you aren’t worried about there being any of the dead in here. Instead, you make your way to the back of the store to check the pharmacy. You pop open your bag and start taking anything off the shelves that would be helpful to you, and anything that wasn’t expired yet. Painkillers, antibiotics, and anti-inflammatories made their way into your bag. You checked the counter and found a bowl of condoms sitting there. You smirked a little to yourself and justified that they wouldn't expire for five years, so you may as well take a few. You never know.

Just then you hear a bang against the front door, all three of you turning your attention in the direction of the sound. A stiff presses itself against the door, trying to get in and you look to Jungkook and Kate.

“I can get it,” Kate grabs the knife strapped to her hips and makes her way to the front door.

“No, let me,” Jungkook steps toward the door, making Kate stop in her tracks. “You have a lot more stuff to collect on that side of the store than I do.” She only nods and walks back to where she was.

As Jungkook reaches up to the lock to undo it, five more stiffs join the first and Jungkook swears under his breath. Just then, a crowd starts to gather at the door, and Jungkook jumps back. “Shit, shit, shit. Y/N, is there a back door?”

“Not that I’ve seen, just the ladder. Damnit!�� Kate and Jungkook jog back to meet you at the only escape point.

“Here, there’s a lock on the hatch!” Kate tosses you the bolt cutters, you holster your gun and throw your bag over your shoulder. You climb as quickly as possible. The glass doors start to creak under the weight of bodies, the glass cracking and groaning. When you reach the top rung you lean against the bars surrounding the ladder, but you’re shaking so badly that you drop the bolt cutters. You hear them clatter to the ground and as Jungkook reached the upward to hand them back to you, the sound of breaking glass meets your ears, You use all of your strength to cut through the padlock, finally breaking it as the horde approaches you three in the back. You swiftly climb onto the roof. Jungkook throws the duffle bag he had filled with supplies upward and you catch it. He follows you up the ladder as quickly as he can, a few of the stiffs nearly at the ladder. Kate follows him, but her boot slips off one of the rungs and she stumbles. Her boot is caught by a couple of the stiffs below her.

“Kate!” You scream, you and Jungkook both reaching your arms toward her, pulling her upward. The leather of her boots being bitten by the dead below her. You two pulled with all of your might and she kicked at screamed to get her leg released. With all of your strength, you and Jungkook manage to pull her up to the roof with you. More now than ever, you were glad they couldn’t climb. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears after the episode as you all lay there and pant. “We’re you bit?”

“No, I kept moving my legs and my boots are too thick.” She sighed and closed the hatch as you all stood.

“Jesus, Y/N! Dropping the cutters? Seriously?” Jungkook yelled at you as you closed the hatch.

“What, do you think I wanted that to happen?! The slipped out of my hand Jungkook, give me a damn break!” You yell back and stand to face him.

“Enough you two! It doesn’t matter anymore, we all made it out so just shut up! This argument isn’t important so drop it!” You and Jungkook break eye contact to look at Kate, she was right.

You turn away from him and walk to the edge of the roof, overlooking the front of the store, more of them came spilling out of the woods and onto the street. Walking along the edge of the roof, you realized that you were completely and utterly screwed. You were trapped.

© alluremin 2019

no reposting

[internaljiujitsu]

F*%! FEAR: 6 Steps To Becoming Fearless

I lived in fear for forty years. It felt like weakness — as if there was something wrong with me that made me more scared than everyone else. My mother would always tell me about how sickly I was when I was born. How I stayed at the hospital for a month afterwards and how my aunt just barely saved me from dying once (so I guess I was kind of on borrowed time). I hated eating as a kid and was really skinny, adding to my weak mystique. In school, what I now know was anxiety would create psychosomatic illnesses. I’d feel sick, but it was all in my head. Stomach aches, dizziness, shortness of breath  —  It frustrated my dad — especially when he’d have to come pick me up from school again because I was freaking out on the inside.

We grew up watching the crack epidemic take over our neighborhood. The drug dealers did their business out of the fourth floor of our building. My brother and I would sweep up crack vials on the weekends to get our allowance from the superintendent — our dad. The tiny plastic cylinders with colorful caps filled the dustpan as we swept the roach infested vestibule leading down to the spooky, filthy basement.

Several young immigrants that had just arrived from Mexico were found dead over the years in the building next door, where Dad was also the super. Death from unnatural causes was a very real thing where we lived. Around age eight or nine, my alcoholic uncle, who lived in a storage room in the aforementioned basement (and would sometimes walk me to school), was killed when he fell while trying to climb a building to get to his ex girlfriend. I was about ten when our close family friend’s son, a squeaky clean kid visiting from the marine corp, was murdered defending a girl in the playground. At eleven or twelve, I watched my best friend’s dad kill a guy in an argument over a prostitute.

When I was fourteen, I was mugged at gunpoint around the corner from my family’s apartment. My big brother, wielding a large, rusty machete, took me around the entire neighborhood that night looking for the robber. The dude had worn a mask, so my brother put the blade to every thug’s neck that we passed on the street and asked me to look him deep in the eyes. They all knew my brother and respected him. They pleaded for mercy. Thankfully, we never found the guy.

That kind of shit was common in my old neighborhood. Baseball bats were swung in search of skulls and group rumbles were still a thing. I had family members snorting coke in front of me by the time I was in the fourth grade (and immediately making me promise I’d never do the same). Forty ounce bottles of beer were smashed over people’s heads in street fights. My crackhead cousin once robbed a dude using my favorite toy gun. He confessed to me when I found the gun broken and complained to him about it. Bullets fired from roof tops for fun whizzed through the ganja heavy air. It feels like we fought every day at school. That big yellow bus was like the fucking octogan.

We finally moved out of that neighborhood when I was sixteen after a gunfight forced our entire family to jump behind a parked car for cover. That shit was stressful. I was jumpy as hell. It didn’t help that Mom and Dad were very old school disciplinarians, if you know what I mean. There were fights outside and fights inside — all the time. I was always scared.

And that’s how I continued to grow up — I just didn’t show it, or let it stop me from fighting. When it was time to throw down in the street or at school, I always did. Partially because I knew my badass big brother would disown me if he heard I punked out. Backing down meant you were a victim. I once accidentally stepped on his buddy’s shoe and apologized. I’ll never forget what the guy said, “You never say sorry. It makes you look weak.” But a man’s sneakers were sacred in the hood, and I sure as hell never looked for a fight — unless I was channeling big brother.

He loved throwing the first punch and bragged about knocking guys out cold at night clubs — until a near death experience and one hundred and fifty stitches thanks to razor blade slashes made him reconsider his life choices. I’ll never forget when the call came in the middle of the night. I don’t remember why I answered the phone instead of my parents, but the voice on the other end is clear as day, “Your brother has been stabbed.” At that moment I thought the worst, and was relieved to see him gingerly walking through the door later that morning, battered, bruised and slashed to bits — but alive.

When I pretended to be my brother, I wasn’t above throwing a preemptive strike. We all had it in us. Hell, my dad was known to go into some destructive ass kicking rages when people pissed him off. I certainly tried my best not to get on his sizable bad side. Mom and sis aren’t exactly shrinking violets either.

My recurring nightmare as a child was of me walking down a beautiful tree lined street, the very one I always wanted to live on. It was only a few blocks from our shithole, but felt like a world away. In the dream, as I reluctantly step, there is the overwhelming feeling that someone is hiding in the shadows, waiting to attack. I’m petrified to move forward, but I keep going — slowly heading toward the inevitable. It was terrifying torture.

I don’t remember ever actually seeing the attacker. I’ve attached a bunch of meaning to that dream ever since, but at the root was my fear. For most of my life I moved forward, steadily but fearfully. I did things that made me want to shit my pants and forced my way through, hating every minute. In retrospect, these all helped build toughness and character, as did my old neighborhood, but the fear persisted. I became a bouncer, champion bodybuilder and an expert martial artist, but felt like a fraud for the unease that was my base level.

It wasn’t until I took these seven steps that terror’s grip on me loosened. Fear doesn’t have to be your enemy. If you learn how to use it, it will energize your actions and help you break past limitations. But first, you have to acknowledge that it’s there.

Accept that you and everyone you know will die. There’s no way around it. Yeah, it’s bleak, but if you wanna live in denial of death, you’re liable to swallow a bunch of bullshit to ease your mind. At its core, all fear is fear of death. When I was a kid, I hated when anyone brought up dying, especially my parents. The uncertainty was too overwhelming. There’s nothing more worthless than fear of the inevitable. It took me a couple of years of suicidal depression, meditation and time in sensory deprivation tanks to get comfortable with the idea of not existing. The tank feels like you’re floating in the womb. It’s pitch black, soundproof and the water is the same temperature as your body, so it feels lke there’s no separation. You and the enviornment become one. It’s blissfully peacful. Sure, I don’t want to die right now because I’m loving life, but I know it will happen one day — and I hope to enjoy that ride as much as I’m enjoying this one.

You’re not your personality. It’s easy to feel like a single, solitary soul drifting in a vast sea of faces. Valuing our individuality as we do, many of us strive to be unique while others do their best to blend into the collective. The way I see it, we’re all the current that powers these appliances we call our bodies. I feel like I’ve lived several separate lives filled with rich, distinct experiences and at the end of each, I mourned the death of an identity. While it feels like I was different people, the throughline was the same. The real me didn’t change. Our personalities are just things made up by our circumstances. They’re the features of the toaster. We’re the electricity that makes it work. I had to lose everything I had built to figure that one out. Once my marriage, home, business, students, money and identity were gone, it was just me — I had to be OK with that.

Your ego is not your life. Learning how to lose isn’t about being resound to failure. Losing is vital because it’s the only way to discover that life will go on when you do. The first time I lost something when I was sure I’d win was devastating. Everything I believed about myself was shattered. My invincibility was gone. Once I realized that defeat wasn’t death and the people that mattered would love me either way, I began to enjoy every aspect of competition instead of only focusing on the result. It wasn’t until I stopped giving a shit that things clicked. Being afraid of the embarrassment of failure is guaranteed to keep you from enjoying success.

Forgive your fear. Far worse than being afraid was my sense of shame. I hated that I wasn’t brave, like the thugs in my neighborhood. To me, being tough meant never being scared. As I became dedicated to martial arts and more interested in understanding fear, I realized that all those guys were probably just as scared as me. It would have been abnormal for me not to be afraid. The environment was so consistently charged with the potential for violence that I frequently lived in a survival state. Getting out unscaved would have taken a level of psychopathy I didn’t possess. When I forgave the little kid I was for being afraid, the shame melted away and the residual fear soon followed.

Whatever happens, everything always works out. You always know you’re in the right place because that’s where you are. No matter what, the world will keep moving on. It will do the same thing it’s doing now when you’re gone. You don’t need to worry quite so much about making the wrong choice when you accept that it doesn’t really matter what choice you make. Yes, of course you matter, your family will miss you and you’re a beautiful soul — all that jazz. But in the end, the world will continue to unfold, and the Earth will be incinirated by the sun — so fuck it. Embrace the experience but don’t cling to any result.

Step up. A sure fire way to kick fear’s ass is to look it in the eye and blow it a kiss. Fear is a bully. It’s all talk. It will try to shout you down until you grovel your way back to mediocrity. Pick something you’re afraid of and do it! Don’t try to not be afraid. Be afraid and do it anyway. But here’s the important part: Smile while you’re doing it. For me, it was roller coasters. I hated them as a kid. They terrified me, and each time I got on one, I regretted every click up to the top. The thought was always the same, “Why did I get talked into this? Let me off!” I never enjoyed the ride, closing my eyes tight and clenching my body until the hellish few seconds was over. One day, I decided that roller coasters represented the fear I wanted to conquer, so I got on the legendary Cyclone. It’s the old, rickety wooden monster at Coney Island in Brooklyn. The thing screeched a death knell and I loved it! I forced myself to smile from the moment I sat in the seat. I told myself that if that car came off the track, I was gonna soak in my final moments. I was sick and tired of being afraid of fear. My mindset shifted, and the click clack became excitement and anticipation instead of anxiety and fear. Funny how those can feel the same.

If you wanna take it a step further, start embracing pain. It may sound a little masochistic, but I like to stare at the needle when it goes in at the doctor. I like going to the dentist. They both used to scare the shit out of me. Even though I had always sought out the painful burn of a brutal workout, it was the pain I deemed unwanted that I sought to relabel. Smiling at the dentist or laughing after my knee was popped back into place in training were not ways to prove to myself that my body was tough, but that my mind was strong. The anticipation of pain is normally much worse than the physical sensation. Change the way you see pain and the way you interpret the sensation will transform

Of course, no one is fearless — unless they’re a psychopath. Fear will always be with you. It’s what you do with it that determines how far you go. The fluttering in your belly is a sign to take action that scares you because it will force you to grow. The quicker your pulse, the bigger the potential change. Don’t deny your fear. Jump on, throw your hands up and enjoy the beautifully terrifying thrill ride.

[fiinalgiirls]

GENERAL INFORMATION.

FULL NAME - genevieve sloane channing NICKNAMES - neve GENDER / PRONOUNS - she/her DATE OF BIRTH - february 12, 1988 PLACE OF BIRTH - portland, oregon CITIZENSHIP / ETHNICITY - united states american; irish, scottish, welsh RELIGION - atheist / agnostic SOCIOECONOMIC STATUS / POLITICAL AFFILIATION - grew up very low socioeconomic status in ne portland, before the gentrification, but is now considered middle class due to her nurse’s salary. she’s liberal. MARITAL STATUS - single ( previously engaged ). SEXUAL & ROMANTIC ORIENTATION - bisexual, leaning more towards an attraction to men. EDUCATION / OCCUPATION - bachelor’s of science in nursing; emergency nurse LANGUAGES - english, spanish, and a few small phrases pertaining to medical emergencies in vietnamese and russian.

FAMILY INFORMATION.

PARENTS - doug and paula channing, both deceased. SIBLINGS - none OFFSPRING - none PETS / OTHER - robocop ( a black and white siberian husky ). i’d also like her to get a cat at some point ! give me this plot point !! NOTABLE EXTENDED FAMILY - none

PHYSICAL INFORMATION.

FACECLAIM - adelaide kane HAIR COLOR / EYE COLOR - brown / brown HEIGHT / BUILD - 5′3″ / slight, athletic TATTOOS / PIERCINGS - nostril piercing, small tattoo on anterior right forearm. DISTINGUISHABLE FEATURES - a scar above her left ear that goes into her hairline approximately three inches, bold, full brows. freckles. usually has bruised knees.

MEDICAL INFORMATION.

MEDICAL HISTORY - laceration to left temporoparietal area, sprained ankle, fractured collar bone, well-controlled asthma. KNOWN ALLERGIES - penicillin, watermelon VISUAL IMPAIRMENT / HEARING IMPAIRMENT - nearsighted, but usually uses contacts; tinnitus. NICOTINE USE / DRUG USE / ALCOHOL USE - occasional alcohol use, former smoker ( has had an errant cigarette on occasion ), drug use as a teenager.

PERSONALITY.

TRAITS - compassionate, resilient, tenacious ; self-righteous, cynical, aloof TROPES - nerves of steel, canine companion, good is not soft, deadpan snarker. TEMPERAMENT - melancholic ALIGNMENT - chaotic good CELTIC TREE ZODIAC - rowan, the thinker MBTI - infj HOGWARTS HOUSE - ravenclaw VICE / VIRTUE - pride ; liberality LIKES / DISLIKES: animals, reading, running and weight lifting, not having to share her popcorn, take-out, breakfast for dinner, leather / denim jackets, white sneakers, fresh cut flowers, solitude, people who think about others,  /  medical dramas, arrogance, science deniers, bok choy, people who talk to her at the gym or when she has headphones on, movie remakes, passive aggression. QUOTE:  ❝take a body, dump it, drive. take a body, maybe your own, and dump it gently. all your dead, unfinished selves and dump them gently. take only what you need. ❞

FAVORITES.

FOOD - curry. DRINK - coffee. PIZZA TOPPING - pineapple ( yes, she’s that bitch ), but with olives, mushrooms, tomatoes, and tabasco. COLOR - earth tones, grey, black and white. MUSIC - synth, hip hop, indie. BOOKS - horror, true crime, historical philosophy of science and medicine. MOVIES - the thing, nightbreed, notorious CURSE WORD - fuck, goddamn it. SCENTS - lavender, vanilla, chocolate.

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger/content warnings: murder, death, graphic violence, mental health, postpartum depression, suicide, cancer, drug mention, parent death, medical, euthanasia mention, stalking, guns

THE FOG CREEPS IN ; GIRLHOOD IS A GRAVEYARD

genevieve channing is born on a cold, grey february sometime around midnight to douglas and paula channing while the heavy oregon fog kisses the modest concrete jungle of portland oregon like a phantom. paula gives her a big name, telling the nurses with heady confidence that she’ll be famous one day, and it’s the biggest gift she ever gives her. baby genevieve is in her arms so often, she hardly touches a cradle, but it’s not long until douglas feels an uneasiness creeping in.

paula is bohemian silk skirts and crushed velvet. she grows restless being trapped in the plain, modest home in northeast. she is a woman that is easy to fall in love with—not meant to sit at home idly with a collicy baby, where she finds herself in tears more than ever. douglas returns from work to find baby genevieve screaming unattended in her crib while paula cries in the backyard with an ashtray full of cigarettes. she tells him she’s worried she’ll crash the car one day on the way to the grocery store with them both inside. douglas digs his teeth into his bottom lip and tries not to cry. he squeezes her hand and tells her she needs to go to therapy. what he really wants to tell her is that their baby needs her. he leaves paula outside and spends the afternoon tidying the house with genevieve swaddled against his chest. it’s a warm feeling.

it’s not long after that paula starts disappearing for periods of time and douglas learns she can’t be trusted to watch after the baby on her own. when she calls from downtown in tears, hyperverbal and desperate, he picks her up in his old chevy truck and brings her home. she agrees to see a doctor and for awhile, they figure out how to live again. some days are even as sweet as the rhubarb pies she starts to make again.

there are only two ways neve later remembers her mother, and the first is lovely–paula is picnics and shakespeare in the parks. she’s dried roses in the window and salmon tacos with mango salsa. she is whirlwind adventures and laughter. she teaches neve to make wishes on stray eyelashes, blowing them into the wind like dandelion seeds. on the good days, paula’s eyes are filled with stars. on the bad days, they are left black as the night sky while she cries the constellations down her cheeks. occasionally, she is cruel. mostly, she is absent.

by the third grade, neve expects this. douglas has never been much of a cook–save hamburger patties with canned green beans and a baked potato. she cooks their dinners from recipes she learns from her grandmas and helps around the house. most nights she’s home alone until the grumbling sound of the chevy breaks through the dark and signals her father’s return. eventually, she stops missing her mother from the everyday–it’s only when the other kids talk about their moms that she feels the pang of loss and wonders where she is. some nights neve finds herself sitting in her bedroom window pulling out eyelashes just to have something left to wish on. some of paula’s friends overdose on heroin or get murdered in the nights when neve is sleeping; she stays up late and hopes that her vigil will keep a distant mother safe.

there aren’t many trees on their street–unlike some of the other neighborhoods. the big weeping birch in their backyard that drives her father crazy as he rakes leaves every fall is neve’s pride and joy. there is comfort in the shade its branches cast every summer. at night it makes her lonely as it blocks the silhouette of the waxing moon. on lazy summer days when her father leaves for work, neve sits with her back curved against its rough trunk and reads the day away.

on a cool april afternoon, just after preparing a plate of cherry poptarts with a thin layer of butter on top of the frosting ( much to her father’s chagrin ), neve ventures out to the modest yard to sit under her tree. the familiar crushed blue velvet of her mother’s favorite dress catches her off guard and she drops her breakfast onto the unkempt lawn as her mind makes sense of the unnatural height of its hem as paula swings–marking the time of neve’s pounding heartbeat. the butter solidifies as it cools in the dirt, the heel of neve’s hand-me-down airwalk sneakers mashing her breakfast. the cherry filling sticks to the sole like bubblegum; she’ll never eat them again, but she can’t help but recall that her mom always preferred the maple and brown sugar.

THE ODDS ARE STACKED AGAINST HER ; A GIRL LEARNS TO COUNT CARDS

portland in the eighties and nineties is less portlandia and more drugstore cowboy. a lot of kids from other neighborhoods don’t go downtown. the ones that do have an air of palpable grit. neve takes the max, rides her skateboard in the dark. douglas has cautioned her a hundred thousand times, but paula’s death has instilled such a great fear of losing his daughter that he lets her get away with more than he knows he probably should. he fears paula’s ghost will someday possess her and she’ll wander off into the ether. most days he insists that the only parts of paula he sees in his cherished daughter are the good ones–neve holds onto the corporeal world with claws. it’s only on the worst nights–paula’s specter cooling the sheets of his bed in the dark–that he wakes up with the fear his daughter is gone.

douglas’s new wife, rosie, does her best to pit them against one another, but sometimes–she’s not so bad, neve thinks. it’s nice to have a mother figure in the house again even if she falls short most days. sometimes she thinks that maybe they could learn to love each other. if nothing else, she’s sure she owes a bit of gratitude to the woman; the nights of her father’s haunting sobs have become fewer and farther between. it isn’t until douglas begins receiving late notices on utilities that he begins to grow suspicious. rosie is quick to throw neve under the bus–a young girl like that? she’s probably stealing their money to spend on drugs and CDs at sam goody. douglas has never bet on anyone like he bets on his daughter; rosie’s gambling debts are news to them both.

the fallout of the relationship leaves douglas and neve in dire financial straits. the father is heartbroken–another love lost, he blames himself for always choosing the wrong lady luck. despite their financial ruin, left in rosie’s wake, douglas has a hard time getting out of bed most days and blows through what little sick time he has available to him. school takes a back burner and neve barely attends it at all–favoring her time on finding work ( legitimate and illegitimate ) to help keep their small family afloat. she attends class when it’s profitable and waits tables or washes dishes when she can. it’s still not enough.

a few kids turn neve onto small crimes to turn a profit. they ride the max to the suburbs and crash parties–stealing pills out of medicine cabinets and turning them over for profit. calculus wasn’t worth a good goddamn, but distribution teaches skills. it’s hard not to get caught up in petty thefts and the occasional break-ins. neve and her friends find it easy to justify in the spirit of class war. a pin on her denim jacket reads ‘eat the rich’ and it doesn’t sound so bad. portland is a cannibal and it eats its children.

neve is a cat with nine lives and despite her friends being caught by the long arm of the law or the stronger arm of revenge, she evades detection. even such cats live with a fear of death, and as consequence catches up to members of the small circle she runs with, neve knows she is living on borrowed time. sooner or later, she knows, her luck will run bone dry.

SPRING RETURNS TO PORTLAND ; THE FROST CLINGS TO FRAGILE BONES

neve dropping out of high school is a wake up call for douglas. he sees farther than she does and knows that she deserves a better life than the one he’s scrounged together for her. most days, he blames himself for a life that could have been; some kids like her wore neatly pressed dresses and folded over lace socks on picture day. some kids had piano lessons and summer camps. there’s a lot of insight in hindsight, but neve staunchly opposes his masochistic remorse and becomes determined to prove him wrong. it takes her a couple years of working to figure out what she wants to do–a girl baptised in her mother’s blood is born with the kind of heart that takes on too much. she is meant for saving lives and carrying the world on her shoulders like atlas himself.

it takes time, but as douglas gets their house in order and starts working again. neve is able to start up at portland community college. she takes up a work study job and works a steady flow of odd jobs on the side to support herself. lady luck shines her fortune on the pair for the first time in forever to make up for the steady losses they’ve sustained over the years. life isn’t lavender and gardenias, but somehow waking up becomes little and less painful each day. some days neve wakes up and forgets that she can’t breathe. most days she spends her gratitude in the heap of debt the world owes her–waiting for the other shoe to drop.

the rebirth of their family is a hearty soil; both channings flourish as if made anew. the dew drops that cling to garden spider webs in their window signal the looming anniversary of a mother’s misty breath and neve learns not to fall apart. douglas works hard to do right by her and make up for the years of never knowing what to do and waffling between what is best and what is desirable. he is a man that longs for dreams–feet barely brushing the earth like her mother’s did on that day–but he is learning to make dreams work too. his dreams take root around his daughter once more; he builds them around her and builds her up with them.

the highschool dropout graduates her community college adn bridge program and she can hardly believe it when she’s accepted to ohsu for her bsn. there are no college diplomas with the channing name hanging on walls with peeling wallpaper or tucked away in trunks with paula’s things. douglas has saved his money for months to get her the right graduation gift and neve laughs, downplaying that it’s not a real graduation, but still walks in the ceremony at his insistence.

she returns home to the small party of friends she’ll start to grow apart from when she gets tired of the jeers about how she thinks she’s ‘too good for them’ now. neighborhoods like hers don’t always love to watch you grow if it means you’ll leave them. they’ll still blow up her phone for medical advice, but the invitations dry up like the drought of portland natives in southeast. for now, it’s a pleasant barbecue. the highlight of the evening comes in the small bundle of inky fur that douglas proudly produces after neve’s second burger. peering out from his strong arms are the brown eyes of a young siberian husky. douglas begs her to name the pup murphy over robocop, but loses easily–a hearty chuckle on his lips. they are bonded instantly–girl and dog–robocop becomes neve’s second most stalwart companion next to her father.

nursing school is hard, but it’s not impossible and it is full of new kinds of joys. she makes new friends and they eat lunch from the thai foodcart—nestled within the pod of south waterfront—and lay on the quad drinking smoothies and complaining about the next pharmacology exam. nose in a book and a drink in her hand at happy hour down at cha cha cha !, neve attracts the attention of pa student shane stone. he knows a nursing school classmate of hers from high school and is quickly incorporated to their study groups with a couple of his friends. he is tall with dark hair and kind eyes and just the sort of person a girl dreams of falling in love with. he spends little time worrying about things like rent and bus passes. it’s not even the end of the semester before study dates evolve into movie dates. there’s an entire world between them, but somehow the pair build a bridge.

DEATH RATTLES AND DYING BREATH ; THE GIRL’S OTHER SHOE DROPS

as neve focuses on school, douglas seems to be making steps to keep himself around longer. they go for long walks with robocop around the neighborhood. southeast portland is becoming a different neighborhood and the cost of living is high. restaurants crop up with around the block waits and family friends are forced to move to grayer pastures. it seems, to the channings, that it’s the end of an era. with neve spending most of her time at shane’s apartment on south waterfront, douglas’ weight loss is hardly noticed–everyone assumes it is merely the byproduct of increased activity. it isn’t until his stature becomes gaunt that neve starts to worry.

shane holds neve close when she finally breaks down–sneaking into the single bathroom of the clinic to let her fall apart the way he knows she can’t do in the open. like a wild animal, the girl he loves hides herself away when she feels death’s acrid breath on her neck. he doesn’t know what loss is and he certainly can’t relate to what she’s been through. douglas’ diagnosis is like watching the noose tighten around her mother’s neck all over again. her throat is dry like she’s choking on the fibers of that same rope; the world has a foggy edge—hollow like street lights illuminating an empty suburban neighborhood on a clear, dark night. everything is wooden; everything feels like a dollhouse.

it’s hard to keep up on her studies, but somehow neve muscles through. shane gives up his idyllic apartment and moves into their modest southeast home to help out. he makes a lighthearted joke about finally being a real portlander and moving so near the trendy, revitalized mississippi neighborhood and neve drops and breaks her coffee mug on the unfinished wood floor of the kitchen. it’s just another reminder that he doesn’t belong in her world any more than she does in his. it doesn’t sting as bad as the ink on his mother’s checks that she cashes to keep her father comfortable on his deathbed while she learns to be a better caretaker. life ebbs and flows, but douglas’ drains away until she hardly recognizes the sinewy, pale hands that hold hers so strongly for a man that can’t sit up by himself any longer. she curses her mother once more for leaving and twice for never having been there in the first place.

death isn’t slow or peaceful like the woman from her father’s church will lie about at the funeral. his death rattle lasts for hours and the bellows of his chest quake with weary breath. part of her wishes that the hospice nurse had started an iv on him and a sick, hidden part of her wishes it because a sweet dose of morphine would’ve ended it all sooner for him. she wonders silently if that would do more to ease his pain or hers? he hasn’t been conscious in two days. shane sits with her at the side of his bed with rapt attention and as his breathing slows, neve crawls into the hospice bed next to him. the next several months are a blur and a father misses his only daughter’s graduation. neve is barely present there herself.

shane insists that she’s not an orphan–his parents fly in from denver and treat her like one of their own. it guilts her that she can’t help but resent them for the simple virtue of living while her own father is reduced to a cold dust. she wears his ashes around her neck in a pendant from the funeral home and spreads the rest in every beautiful place she can find. some of them spill into her purse during a hike with robo and shane and she breaks down in tears. there are so many small things that make her sick or numb. a multitude of tiny memories that weigh as much as planets; isn’t dust what helped create the milky way? even around the stone family she feels alone. maybe especially around the stones.

HACKLES RAISED, A GIRL LEARNS THE DANGERS OF BEING FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE

the emergency department attracts all kinds of people in myriad dire straits. people come in at the end of their ropes–infections ignored too long, stabbings and shootings, a broken bone from slipping off the slide, and sometimes when they feel like they can’t live any longer. evan does not fit into any of these categories when he comes in. among the myriad failings of the medical system, lack of access and use of primary care is one of the larger contributions to higher emergency department volumes and evan is another data point in a sea of statistics. he comes back to neve’s room with a sly grin plastered on his face and states that he’s new to the area and can’t get into a new primary care for a few months. his daily asthma inhaler is out and he needs to renew the prescription and get a referral to a clinic.

there’s nothing on the surface that identifies this man as a threat. he’s almost charming and he’s nontoxic appearing–a nice easy patient in a sea of sick people is sometimes a great relief. they make some small talk and it’s the usual stuff she chats about with patients: ‘where’re you from?’ ‘where did you go to school?’ he expresses an interest in nursing and she recommends the program she attended at the hospital she now works. there’s almost a tension there, and when he makes a casual comment about the tan line on her finger she tells him that she doesn’t wear her engagement ring at work because it can tear the gloves. that’s only half right. maybe he can sense the rest of the truth; she’ll wonder that later when she pieces together every scrap of something she can use to blame it on herself.

he sends her a message on facebook, which makes her lips curl downwards in uncertainty. even that isn’t entirely alarming. it opens up reminding her that he’s knew to the area, and that he’s interested in the nursing program she went to. it’s a surprise, but he makes mention of a girlfriend’s wifi and he even asks how shane is doing. he loves her dog and mentions wanting one himself. sure, it’s a little weird–unconventional–but neve has always been interested in helping others find nursing and agrees to meet him for coffee to discuss the program. when they meet, she sees the mistake inherit in it before she even opens the cafe door. he’s disheveled and hyperverbal when he speaks to her and she can barely get a word in edge wise. between the gift he’s brought her and the intensity of his stare, she wonders how she could have read him so wrong. it’s then that he drops the bomb that makes her stomach sink into the trench it detonates in–will they take him in the nursing program with a record? she doesn’t ask, but he provides the details anyway. death threats to some girl he barely knew that wouldn’t leave him alone, he paints the canvas well, but she can read between the lines. evan stevens is dangerous and his lethal eye is trained on her.

she makes an excuse to leave–the first of many excuses, the illusion of being unavailable, unattainable. it’s the advice she’s given to women before, but never had to follow. those words offered to women in distress seem so trite now, so hollow. there is so much fear in cutting ties slowly–the strategic approach to keep an impulsive person like that from escalating. she wishes she could take those clinical offerings of textbook wisdom back from those women and hold their hands. she wonders how many of them still live. he starts blowing up her phone constantly. he comments on all her social media. all day and all night. if she doesn’t respond, he threatens suicide. some days he asks if she’s working and says he brought her lunch. if she says she’s sick, he asks for her address to bring her tom yum takeout from the restaurant she’s posted about on instagram. everything makes her sick now.

A FINAL GIRL IS FORGED ALONE ; THERE IS NO SUBVERTING FATE

god, it’s hard to speak about. she can’t even let the words reach her tongue, lips and teeth to birth them. they shrivel and die in her throat, festering there until she swallows them and they rest in her stomach like great stones. she wonders if evan will cut her stomach open like a wolf and find the rocks there. that’s not how the story goes; she tells herself so many versions as she lies awake in the dark afraid to sleep.

when she finally tells her friends–a smattering of girls and guys from nursing school, the er, and her neighborhood–the response is like the knife she dreams about in her gut. she shows some of the girls at her work his picture, worried that he’ll come in asking about her. she’s chided by these friends, “he’s actually pretty cute, florence nightingale” they joke. “it must be flattering to have the attention.” even shane suspected that there’s some indulgence on her part. that maybe she likes trying to fix people who are broken so much that she gets some sick reward from the experience. he doesn’t speak the words, but neve is fluent in shane stone. he says it in his eyes, the downcurve of his lips, the tense way he sighs when her phone dings over and over again during date nights.

on a cold night in december, neve works on meal prepping alone in the kitchen. evan has been out of town helping his mother remodel her kitchen and neve feels like she can finally breathe in the space he’s left behind. turning on the wireless speaker, she tries to pair her phone to play music as loud as the thin walls of her father’s modest northeast portland home will allow and instead hears, in the cold, robotic voice ‘pairing with neve’s iphone and evan’s iphone.’ robocop doesn’t even lift his head in suspicion the whole night. she calls 911, but they find neither hide nor hair of him. in the morning, neve nails the windows shut and buys a gun–a smith & wesson .357 snub nose revolver. the weight of it is heavy in her hands and she buys a membership to a gun range, calling into work and practicing until shane returns. she doesn’t tell him about the gun and she stops telling him how bad things have gotten with evan. the click of his tongue and disapproval in his eyes is more dooming than a death sentence and she can’t bear to bring further disappointment. neve channing is a strong woman–a smart woman. things like this don’t happen to women like her.

somehow, evan is everywhere and he knows all her secret places as if he exists as an extension of her. maybe he even believes he is–sending her voice messages about how they’re connected. they are the same; they are foils of one another. he send her a picture of his ouroboros tattoo from a new number after she finally blocks him. ‘we are the same.’ he is an all-consuming, devouring force, but she is not a serpent’s tail. he is moloch–besmeared with blood, the great, horrid king–but she is not a child and she will not be sacrificed for sins she has not committed. he has not right and there’s only one way she can see this ending as the days grow longer. like life itself begins, this too will end in blood.

LOVE IS A HARD KNIFE ; A GIRL CAN’T STOMACH AMBROSIA

there is a consequence to every action and every inaction. every little thing she chooses not to tell shane fester and boils. the late nights at work and the new passcode on her phone seem more to shane like cheating than a worsening of some creep’s obsession. she hasn’t even mentioned evan to him since the trees started blooming again. when he elects to cheer her up and bring her lunch during a shift she traded so she could practice at the gun range, his suspicions deepen and while she sleeps that morning, he rifles through her work bag and finds alongside her locked cell phone the cold steel of a secret that he cannot abide by.

it’s not his fault either and she means that from the bottom of her heart. every kindness from the stones feels like another debt and neve can’t help but let the resentment fester in the tasteful diamond on her finger. when she looks upon his face now all she can see is death and it’s the world’s cruelest joke, because she’s the one with cemetery dirt underneath her fingernails. she can’t tell which of the two of them she resents more and they both deserve lives where ghosts stay buried and the dead don’t whisper malcontent in her ears while she struggles to fall asleep. nightmares are her own warm milk; she’s sick of the cold metal of a gun as she moves it from her night stand to her purse each morning. she’s tired of being made to feel like she had a stake in any of this.

it’s not the kindest way to leave a man, but she’s not sure she’s ready to face him again after all that’s happened. she leaves her house keys with her cousin paloma and packs up shane’s stuff. paloma has just started nursing school and can use neve’s father’s old house to sublet. the rent’s free and she’s always been gentle hearted. neve can’t think of anyone better to care for her father’s old house. with dear john letters to both shane and the hospital, neve takes robocop and enough of her things to fit into her subaru forester. it’s not goodbye. it’s never goodbye, she thinks as she hugs paloma on the modest porch. it still feels so permanent, but neve tells herself that big decisions always do. she yearns to discover who she is outside of grief and fear and love. a daughter cannot bloom in her parents’ shadows and she is suffocating underneath the gentle love of the mourning glory.

on the road without a real plan–because if she doesn’t know where she’s going, then neither does evan–neve signs on for a travel nursing company. the first assignment she considers is salem hospital an hour south and it’s a great department, but it’s too close to home. he’ll find her there easily. st. charles in bend isn’t far enough away either. it doesn’t feel like enough of a difference and none of them do until she’s cruising down the interstate through blythe, california and she sees a listing for a level one trauma center in tuscon, arizona. it feels like it could be the right place to burn and be born again.

A GIRL AND HER DOG; SOMETIMES PEACE IS ITS OWN KIND OF PRISON

the cool steel of the snub nose .357 revolver lies buried beneath her registration and owner’s manual in the glove compartment. she wonders briefly as she pulls out her sunglasses and slips a salty french fry into her mouth. the car stereo fades in and out along the southbound highway, switching between some smooth-talking radio host and the tinny crooning of buddy holly. it makes her think of her father, and she blinks back tears–plugging in her iphone to switch to a tune that doesn’t bring back such painful memories. robocop whines in the backseat and neve discovers that her maps aren’t loading any longer, the gps unable to locate their vehicle.

there’s no sense in pulling over and pulling out the map of arizona she purchased from a disinterested teen in the first gas station she’d come across in the state. there’s only two days before the job starts and, according to her recruiter, they’d already moved the orientation up a day, cutting her time to adjust to her new ( temporary ) place before work in half. taking a long drink of coffee–now as cold as her french fries–she blinks hard to keep awake and just when she thinks she’ll have to pull over and sleep in her car huddled close to robocop’s warm, furry body.

neve passes a hospital on the outskirts of town–lit up all pretty against the dark desert sky. it looks nice enough and the longer she drives, the more she considers that her recruiter might’ve told her they were full up in tuscon. maybe that was why they moved the date up for orientation afterall. in the dark august night, most of the businesses are closed and the lights in the mobile home park neve passes are off. the first place she sees open is bj’s food mart and she stops to get a fresh cup of coffee and stretch her legs. she learns inside that amen county is always hiring and leaves with a smile on her lips.

neve has spent nine peaceful months in boot hill. the gun no longer lives shoved into the bottom of her work bag or nestled into the glove compartment of her subaru. now it spends its days in solitude in the coffin-like drawer of her bedside table. evan will never find this place, she is almost sure of it. he might be looking for her, but he’s not looking for boot hill. some evenings on her long strolls to work, she smiles and closes her eyes–listening to the soothing sounds of the town.

soon enough, neve is sure there really was no travel assignment to reach. or, if there had been, she can’t remember where it’s at. instead, she takes some time to enjoy the small town and the anonymity she feels there. she’s not even living out of the silk bonnet hotel anymore. she hadn’t seen boot hill on any map during her road trip and, if that’s universal, her past can’t find her without a destination to set its sights on. there is more than great comfort in that. by the end of her first month, she can’t imagine living anywhere else.

the emergency department is not the bustling trauma center she was used to, but there is an appeal to the autonomy rural medicine offers an experienced nurse. hell, in some places the doctors only come in if you call them. neve can’t exactly remember the application and interview process anymore. it seems like there are so many things that have become mysteries and she can’t find herself caring enough to investigate them long enough to follow an actual lead. it seems like she’s always worked there–an instantaneous sensation of home. she couldn’t even leave if she wanted to.

[chrissterry]

She Thrives: Black Women Making History | NBC News

She Thrives: Black Women Making History | NBC News

These 10 women are shaping their communities and, in their own way, altering life for everyone in 21st century America. Theirs are stories that deserve to be told.

  Source: She Thrives: Black Women Making History | NBC News

[foreverwayward]

“Wayward Hearts” Season 3 Chapter 2: The Kids are Alright

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But, with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 8,161

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN** THIS CHAPTER IS WRITTEN IN MY OFC RILEY’S POV After everything that had happened, I practically begged for us to take a detour to Lawrence. I needed to get my head on straight and being on the road with the boys and not really being able to get things off my chest? It was killing me. So, I made a call to Missouri and asked if we could stay a few days. Of course, she didn’t argue about it one bit.

When we pulled up in front of her house, I could hear a muffled barking coming from inside. I looked up at the main window and there was Finn. His tail was wagging out of control knowing I was back. 

The front door opened and he gunned right for me. Dropping to my knees, I met him on the front lawn. 

Finn jumped to have his paws on my shoulders and nuzzled my face as he whined, his tail never stopping. All I could do was hold him close and I could already feel myself relaxing too much because I was ready to cry. 

So, I pulled myself together as best I could and he and went to greet Missouri who was waiting on the porch with a smile. She pulled me in for a tight hug and a small sound of comfort came from her throat as she sighed holding me. 

I know she loves me and I don’t know what I would do without her.

“No matter how short the time between visits, it always feels like it’s been too long, my girl.” 

‘My girl’. I loved that she called me that. Nothing compared to having someone understand me so much when it came to my abilities. We share thoughts like it’s nothing, we have no secrets. 

That’s when I saw her face change. She knew everything in that instant, all the terrible things that had happened over the past few weeks. Missouri looked at me with grief in her eyes and I could see her begin to cry.

As Sam and Dean followed close behind me, she sniffled and tried to compose herself. “Boys, so good to see you, both.” Missouri cleared her throat and opened the door wide. “Come in. Please, come in.”

------

The bedroom Missouri always has me stay in almost feels like my own. Whenever I come to visit, she has it ready with clean sheets, my favorite blanket that she knitted for me, and Finn’s bed beside mine. I’m so lucky to have someone around to take care of him when I can’t.

Almost as if he knew I was thinking about him, Finn nudged under my hand with a whimper for attention. 

I smiled at him before squatting to kiss him and rub his face. “I missed you, bud.”

Dean came down the hall and lightly knocked on the frame of the open door. He half-smiled at me, carrying my guitar case and bag for me. “Brought your things up.”

“You don’t have to knock, Dean,” I told him. 

He’s been walking on eggshells these last few days with me. Ever since he told me about--well...what we lost, it’s like he’s afraid to talk to me.

“Right. No, I know. I just--wanna make sure you’re doing okay.”

All I could do was kind of nod. What was I going to say? ‘Oh, sure. I’m all good’. Yeah, right.

He kind of sighed. “Alright, well, Sam and I were gonna go run an errand for Missouri, she’s making dinner. You gonna come down?”

I picked up my guitar case and carried it to the bed before sitting down. Finn, of course, hopped up beside me. Taking the instrument from its case, I sat it across my lap as I crossed my legs. I looked up at him trying to keep it together. “Uh--yeah. Maybe later.”

“Sure,” he said softly. “Take your time.” Dean seemed hesitant before he turned to walk away.

I was hoping that I wasn’t pushing him away, but I couldn’t deal with everything--it was too much. I needed to be alone and not feeling like I can’t say all the things I really want to say. 

But, no matter what I was going through, music always got me through. Music is the one way I can say whatever I want and feel it come off my chest.

The strings hummed lightly as I gave it a soft strum. I tuned it more finely and took my pick from my pocket. One song came to mind faster than any other and I began to play almost mindlessly. The soft melody soothed and lulled me but still pulled at my heart.

“I close my eyes. Only for a moment and the moment's gone. All my dreams, pass before my eyes with curiosity. Dust in the wind. All they are is dust in the wind. Same old song. Just a drop of water in an endless sea. All we do, crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see...dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wind.”

That’s when I realized the tears dripping down my guitar. 

Did anything I ever did even matter; anything I’ve sacrificed? If it did, why would I keep being punished? I’ve lost so much and my world just keeps falling apart. 

What did I do to deserve this? Losing my mom, then Dad, then Deb, then...the baby. Now I’m going to lose Dean? 

If there is a god...I hate him.

------

Later that night, I realized I had fallen asleep for quite some time--maybe two or more hours. 

Finn was in my arms and stirred awake when I did. He licked my face gently and I hugged him in return. I could hear the clinking of silverware downstairs and mumbled conversation. Honestly, I didn’t want to be around anyone but my stomach was starting to ache, I was so hungry.

I threw my hair up into a loose bun and made my way toward the stairs. As I was about halfway down, I heard the conversation from the table and stopped in my tracks.

“I dunno, Missouri,” Dean mumbled after he took a bite. “I don’t think she’s okay. I mean--we’ve tried everything and she’s just shut us out.”

“Dean Winchester, I’m surprised by you.” I knew that tone of Missouri’s. She was about to give my boyfriend an earful. “Think about all that poor girl is going through. Riley actually died to save her brother only to find out that you sold your damn soul to the fires of Hell for her--the same thing her father did for her that still gives her nightmares. Now, she finds out she lost a child that she didn’t even know she had. What do you think that does to a woman?”

I could hear Dean clear his throat. He makes a certain sound whenever he’s trying to cover up his emotions. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Have you two even talked about the baby?”

“No. I mean, she barely looks at me and when she does, I’m too scared to talk to her about it. What if I say the wrong thing?”

Oh, god. What if Dean was relieved that we weren’t going to be parents? What if he never wanted a kid with me and he was just sad that I was sad over it? Shit. No wonder he won’t talk to me. I just wish I could get in his fucking head. I’ve done it recently, but it’s like ever since he told me everything, there’s a wall up. Is he doing it on purpose? Why is he trying to keep me out?

“Missouri,” Sam started. “What about her abilities? I mean, my visions? They went away when Yellow-Eyes died. But, hers are coming back. Not to mention--” his voice trailed off almost like he was making sure I couldn’t hear him and then he spoke softer. “She walked into Hell and came out without her hair even singed. I mean, how?”

I tiptoed my way across the floor and just peered through the kitchen door into the dining room.

Missouri just kind of shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never in my life heard of anything like it. Riley is more than special. Jackson was an empath--we know that now. So, it’s possible her abilities are in her family. But, why she’s so powerful or how she’s done what she has--that I don’t have answers to. What I do know is that girl is a force to be reckoned with.” 

Suddenly, I could feel Missouri in my head. She knew I was there. 

“Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been listening. Come get some food, young lady.”

Like the cat that ate the canary, I went into the dining room to sit with them. It was so nice to see homemade food for once. I loved Missouri’s cooking, she made me feel at home.

I sat next to Sam and he rubbed my back with a half-smile before going back to eating. 

Dean was across from me and still afraid to look me in the eye. But, he was still able to utter out, “glad you’re here, sweetheart.”

“Me too,” I replied almost losing my appetite.

-----

The next morning, I came downstairs to get a cup of coffee. I loved the feeling of waking up more rested than usual after not sleeping on a fucking motel mattress. 

With a warm cup in my hand, my fluffy socks shuffled on the floor towards the living room. Sam was already working at his laptop with a curious face. I know that look--he found a case.

“Hey,” he nodded toward me. “Morning.”

“Morning. So, you have the ‘infamous Sam look’. What’d you find?” I sat beside him and tucked a leg underneath me. Taking a sip of my coffee I leaned in to look.

Sam just kind of let out one of those typical breathy chuckles he always does. “Uh--Cicero, Indiana. Guy just falls on his own power saw.”

I kind of gave him a ‘so what’ look. “Okay? So, clumsy dude learns a hard lesson in not being clumsy.”

“That’s what I thought, until I did some research on the area. Get this, a bunch of weird accidents all happened in the same neighborhood--deaths, actually. They just didn’t make the papers.” Sam turned the laptop to face me better and I read his notes. “Morning Hill Gated Community. People are falling off ladders, laying on power saws, drowning in their own jacuzzies--all in the same neighborhood.”

“Oh, that is weird.” I stretched out my neck and exhaled from the release of the crack. “Alright, well, it looks like yet another few days off work cut short.”

Sam sat up looking worried. “Well, I mean, we could wait a day or two. You know, just to rest.”

I rolled my eyes pretty hard, I’m assuming, at his statement. I knew he was talking about me. “Sam, I’m fine. We can’t just let people die because I wanna clock out.” Taking a sip of my coffee, I looked up to see Dean come in. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he answered still tired. His hair is always all fuzzy and fluffy in the mornings. It’s my favorite so it kind of made me smile.

“So, Sam found us a case. Wanna be ready to roll out in about an hour?”

Dean gave me a look of concern. “You sure you wanna go?”

“Ugh. Yes. Let’s just do this already.”

“If you say so.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still trying to wake up. “Where we headed?”

“Cicero, Indiana.”

Suddenly, Dean looked like I had just struck a nerve in him. “Uh--okay. Sounds...good.”

“Yeah…” I nodded in confusion. “Weirdo.” 

Getting up, I went toward the kitchen to grab something quick to eat. I needed to fuel up before the road. Lord knew when I would get to eat decent food again.

------

The whole damn ride was awkward as hell. It seemed like Dean was even more distant than before. I tried so hard to get into his head, but he just wouldn’t budge. 

I did get through at one point only to hear him humming Metallica. Shit. That’s what he does when he’s nervous. Great.

We pulled into the gated community and Dean got even weirder. All of a sudden he looked...greener than usual--no, paler. Whatever. He looked like hell.

I quickly hurried up the steps to a beautiful house with a white fence. Literally, the ‘apple pie’ life that Dean always refers to civilians having. 

We found the ex-wife’s address of the guy who ate it on his saw. I knew she’d probably prefer talking to a woman rather than the two tactless men.

I knocked on the door and a young girl appeared. She was probably about twelve or so and she just looked at me curiously.

“Hi. I’m, uh--Katherine from Coffer’s Insurance. Is your mom around?”

“No,” she answered somewhat sadly but sweetly. “She and my little sister are at a birthday party down the street. It’s the one with all the balloons all over the yard.”

“Alright,” I smiled at her. “Thanks.” She closed the door and I headed back to Sam and Dean. 

When I got to the car, Dean was leaning against the Impala all fidgety and nervous. I could still feel those emotions coming from him but nothing that really gave me any answers. 

“So, the daughter says that mom is at the big birthday party down the street. Let’s go see if we can find her.”

“Cool,” Sam agreed as he shut the door behind him.

As I walked down the sidewalk, Dean strode up next to me. “So, uh--that house? The one with all the balloons? That’s the one we’re going to?”

All I could do was look up at him with a weird shrug. “What the hell is going on with you? Why are you acting so fucking weird?”

“No. No, nothing. I’m fine--not weird.” He kind of stopped me and Sam and anxiously looked around. “How about you guys go get settled in the motel? I can go handle this alone. We don’t want the poor lady feeling cornered at a party, right?”

“I--I guess,” Sam told him with the same face I had.

Something was up, I’m not stupid. So, I kind of pursed my lips and thought for a second. “Nah. She’ll be fine. Let’s go,” I said as I patted Dean’s chest condescendingly. 

That queasy look on his face was getting worse the closer we got to the door. He kept looking around and his nerves were enough to almost make me throw up. 

I turned to him and bit, “dude, chill.”

I knocked on the door before it opened with a woman looking back at us. Wow. She was gorgeous. She had these full lips and this long dark hair. Her skin was all tanned and she easily had four or five inches on me height-wise. Frickin’ model-type. 

But, boy was I shocked when the first word out of her mouth was, “Dean.” She had a surprised expression looking at my boyfriend.

My head snapped in his direction so hard I think I threw it out. 

His face looked guilty as he swallowed hard. “Lisa…” he barely choked out. “Good to see you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh--just in town for work. Started working for an insurance company not too long ago.”

“Oh,” she paused before smiling. God, she had a perfect smile. “Well, it’s good to see you. What’s it been? Eight--almost nine years?”

Sam and I just looked at each other waiting for an explanation, but when things went awkwardly quiet, I decided to skip over it for the time being. “We’re actually looking for Rachel Barnett? Her daughter told us we could find her here. I’m so sorry if we’re disturbing your party.”

“No, no,” Lisa said sweetly. “Come on in.” 

As we all walked in, we could hear kids playing in the backyard and fun music playing. The whole yard was filled with laughing kids, a jump house, food and parents that had been drug there by their own children. 

“You guys help yourselves to some drinks. There’s punch on the counter. I’ll be right back.”

When she walked away, I spun around to Dean, as did Sam. He knew we wanted answers.

“She, uh--she’s an old friend.”

“An old friend?” Sam asked skeptically.

He was too nervous. There was no way in hell that chick was just a friend. “Dean.” My eyes shot up to him with intent and he knew I was serious.

Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Look, this is just for me as awkward as it is for you, but--” he stopped and bit his lip nervously. “Lisa and I--we kinda spent a night together a long time ago. Well--a weekend.”

Sam’s eyes went wide as he mouthed ‘wow’ without a sound. He quickly walked away feeling the tensions rise.

“So, she was just a hook-up? Nothing serious? Because I feel like you should have told me before we got here.”

“No,” Dean answered me with a look of innocence that I totally bought. “I would have told you. Cassie is the only girl before you that I ever had anything remotely close to a relationship with before you. Lisa was--she was just a fling. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I got--nervous.”

My shoulders kind of relaxed at his words because I completely trust Dean. He had never given me any reason not to. So, I sighed heavily and took his hand. “Alright. Well, yes, it’s awkward as hell, but it happens--you run into people.”

The corner of his lip curled up on one side. “So, you’re not mad?”

I kind of chuckled. “No. You’re allowed to have known people before me, dork.” Getting on my tiptoes, I kissed his lips briefly. “Let’s get back to work.”

Sam saw things had gotten better between us and had made his way back. “We good here?”

“Yes,” I laughed. “It’s all good.”

Lisa had come back with a smile on her face. She was busy running around taking care of things for the party. “Sorry, had to go check on the birthday boy.”

“Your kid I’m guessing?” Thank god, she has kids. She’s moved on completely and Dean was just a rumble in the hay forever ago. 

Ew. No more thinking about that.

She beamed. “Yeah. My son, Ben. He’s nine.” Lisa turned to look back at a small boy in a black jacket and jeans.

He opened a present to reveal a CD and his face lit up. “Yes! AC/DC rules!” Ben’s hand formed the infamous ‘rock on’ gesture and I laughed to myself. Seemed like a cool kid.

When my eyes went back to the boys, they both looked like they had figured out something I didn’t and were in shock. 

I turned back to the kid and he was biting into a sandwich like it was a holy experience. Huh. That behavior felt oddly familiar.

“Oh, Dean,” Lisa started. “I’m sorry, but would you excuse me?” We nodded and she disappeared back into the chaos of the party to hug a friend.

Sam cleared his throat. “I’m, uh--I’m gonna go find the vic’s wife.” His voice sounded like he was desperate to get away.

“Okay…” I uttered quietly and confused.

“I’m gonna go get some cake. I’ll be--I’ll be right back.” Suddenly, Dean was gone as well, leaving me alone at a nine-year-old’s birthday party. 

Awesome.

There was a table nearby with snacks and I made a b-line for it. Free food? I’m taking it. 

There were two moms sitting at the edge of the party nearby eating cake. I could overhear them as I collected cheese, crackers, and cookies on my plate.

“Did you hear Lisa call him ‘Dean’?

“Yeah, why?”

“You don't know about Dean? The Dean. Best-night-of-my-life Dean?”

“No! Tell me.”

“Oh, my god, so, they had this crazy, semi-illegal--”

At that moment, Dean walked by and they both immediately stopped talking. It was like someone had just sucked the air out of them and they gasped looking at him. 

I could feel the emotions dripping from them and the only one that screamed at me was lust. 

So, apparently the whole block knew about Dean and Lisa’s fuck-a-palooza and they’re all wanting a taste of it. Hell no. 

I marched over to him and grabbed Dean by the jacket. Pulling him down to me, I kissed him, hard. Yeah, it was juvenile, but I was claiming what was mine. And Dean is mine.

My feet planted back down on the ground and the frosting that had been left over on his lips were now on mine. I took my finger and wiped my mouth with a finger before sucking it clean. Oh, it was suggestive as fuck and it made Dean actually wiggle.

“Sorry,” I said with a flirty voice. “You had some cake on your lips.” 

When I looked to the two moms, they were just staring with their mouths gaped open. I hummed, pleased with myself, and then ran my hand down Dean’s chest before spinning around to leave. 

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he was back there revved up like crazy and ready to fuck me in Lisa’s bathroom. And that thought alone made me smirk mischievously.

Later on, I saw Dean talking to Lisa’s kid near the bounce house. I was going to go and say hi, but I stopped behind them as I looked at them together. My god. The way they ate cake, leaned back in their chair, and even the way they dressed were completely identical. It was like looking at a mini-Dean.

Then it hit me like a linebacker with a grudge. The timing would be right. Jesus Christ. What if Ben is Dean’s son? The thought made my knees buckle and my heart somewhat break. What if Dean had a family he didn’t even know about? Oh, my god. Would he leave to be with them if he found out he did? 

But, we could have had a kid. We did--no. I don’t wanna finish that thought. I never imagined Dean wanting kids, but I knew what an incredible dad he’d be. 

He’d be like my dad.

A tear fell down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away. Dean looked so happy with Ben. Maybe he’d want a family with Lisa. Maybe she could give him something I couldn’t. Maybe Dean does want kids...just not with me.

The two seemed to share a moment that made Dean smile from ear to ear before Ben disappeared into the bounce house. 

I ran a hand through my hair and straightened my jacket to pull myself together as I went to Dean’s side. We watched Ben play with his friends while Dean’s eyes sat fixated on him.

Working up every ounce of courage I had, I uttered, “you think he’s yours. Don’t you?”

I could feel the way his emotions changed and how his body shifted. He cleared his throat nervously and looked down at me. I knew he was about to try to brush past it when I met his gaze. My eyes practically begged for him to be honest about it.

Dean sighed heavily. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

Sam must have overheard as he just stood next to us. “Probably should find out.”

“I--I gotta talk to Lisa.” Dean glanced down to me again as if he was asking for my permission. 

I wanted to go with him but I knew it wasn’t my place. If Dean had a life he didn’t know about, he deserved to know.

“Go,” I told him with as much understanding as I could muster. “Sam and I will meet you back at the motel.”

He kissed me sweetly and told me he loved me before leaving to find Lisa.

Sam put an arm around me and pulled me close. “Come on. Let’s go, sis.”

------

We had checked into a local motel and texted Dean the address before going to the attached diner. After ordering some food, we settled in. 

Sam and I hadn’t spent much time alone together since Cold Oak. Maybe we were avoiding the possibility of having to talk about it all. We were more alike in that aspect than we cared to admit.

Breaking the silence, I pulled a small, rectangular box out of my bag. I gave Sam a closed-mouth smile and handed it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked as he took it hesitantly.

“Well, we were supposed to celebrate your birthday at Missouri’s and that never happened,” I chuckled. “Just open it.”

Sam pulled off the top half of the box and inside was a pocket knife. It was silver and slick--larger than I would have picked for myself, but let’s face it, Sam has monster hands.

He turned it on its side as he looked at it more closely and saw the inscription I had carved into the side. ‘Family Above All’

I could see him swallow hard and he sniffled with a forced smile. There was this brief moment where I felt all of Sam’s walls fall and we practically synced together. 

He knew there wasn’t a single second since that terrible night that I regretted taking that blade for him. I would die for my brother again and again without hesitation.

It was then that I felt how guilty he was feeling for not making the deal to save me before Dean did. I was about to cry when I reached across the table to take his hand. We looked at each other and kind of chuckled off our emotional moment.

“Love you, bro,” I told him.

He cleared his throat with a small smirk. “Love you too, Rye.”

I sat back and Sam put his knife in his pocket before admiring it for another second. 

The waitress came and placed our meals down in front of us and we dug in. As I went to put another fry in my mouth, a blonde woman sat beside me and Sam’s eyes grew.

“Hello, Sam,” she turned to me. “Riley.”

“You’ve been following us since Lincoln.”

“Not much gets by you, does it?” The woman was now teasing my brother and then reached to take one of my fries before eating it. “Mm. These are amazing. They’re like deep-fried crack.”

My gaze went to Sam as I scoffed in disbelief. “This bitch just took my fry.” I turned to her with disgust. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, that’s right. We haven’t met. I’m the one that saved Sam’s ass from those demons that had him cornered.”

“Wait. Sam...is this the chick with the demon-killing knife?”

“Aww,” she feigned. “You were talking about me, Sam?”

Sam looked annoyed. “Why are you following us?”

That blonde bitch took more of my fries and squirted ketchup on them. “Because you're tall--I love a tall man. And then there's the whole antichrist thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know--generation of psychic kids. Yellow-Eyed Demon rounds you up, celebrity deathmatch ensues. You two were the only ones left standing.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I'm a good hunter. So, Yellow-Eyes had some pretty big plans for you, both.”

I knew I had to have the nastiest look on my face when I sneered, “that son of a bitch may have ‘had’ big plans, but doesn’t look like those are gonna be happening anymore for him.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. That's right. Ding-dong, the demon's dead. Good job with that. It doesn't change the fact that you're special...in that Anthony Michael Hall E.S.P. visions kind of way.”

“No. That’s not happening for Sam anymore,” I snapped.

She kind of laughed with more of my food in her mouth. “Oh, honey, we all know what a big deal you are and I’m assuming the same still goes for Sam. I mean--after all that business with your moms and what happened to all their friends.” 

Neither of us knew what the hell she was talking about and we both shot each other a look. 

“Oh, you don’t know,” she teased. After she grabbed Sam’s pen, she took his hand and wrote her number on his palm. “You've got a little bit of catching up to do, my friends. So, why don't you look into your moms’ pals…and then give me a call and we'll talk again?” After that, she just got up and left before we could say anything else.

Sam scoffed and looked taken back as he watched her leave. “What the fuck was that?”

“No clue. But, she’s no hunter--I’ll tell you that right now. I can’t put my finger on it, but I couldn’t feel anything coming from her like she was on mute or something. I dunno, Sammy...I don’t trust her.”

His phone rang and he looked at the ID before getting ready to answer. “It’s Dean,” Sam answered and put it to his ear. “Hey.” He stopped to listen for a minute. “Okay, yeah. Rye and I will go check out another one of the victims’ houses. Alright, talk soon.”

All I could do was practically beg with my eyes for him to tell me if Dean said anything about Lisa and Ben. “Well?!”

“He didn’t say anything about it. I think they might still be talking.”

I knew it was probably so obvious how hard that hit me, how on edge I was with the whole thing. I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled hard. “Alright. Let’s go. Maybe working will keep me from losing my mind.”

Sam pulled out some money for the bill before asking, “wanna take a to-go box?”

“Nah. I’m not really hungry anymore.”

------

After we’d changed into our suits, Sam and I went to do some more digging on the other local cases. The houses were all so close together, there was no way it was a coincidence. Something shady was definitely going on.

The widow let us in and showed us to the backyard. She was obviously still reeling from the loss of her husband so we tried to be as gentle as possible, get what we needed, and get out.

“So, once again, we’re very sorry to disturb you. We just really want to expedite that life-insurance policy,” Sam said reassuringly. He was always so good at that part of the job. My brother had a gift for empathy and puppy-dog eyes that would make you tell him anything.

The woman rubbed her arms to comfort herself. “Of course.” As we looked up at the back of the house, there was a large ladder still extending up alongside the wall. “This is, um--where he fell. He was just inside changing a light bulb...must have lost his balance.

“Were you here when this happened?”

“No. I was out. Uh--the only one here was our daughter, Dakota.”

My eyes went to the window near the ladder. Inside was a little girl staring at us. She had no expression on her face and the vibes that came from her sent a weird chill up my spine. It almost felt like she wanted to hurt us. But, why? 

Ugh. Creepy kids are the fuckin’ worst.

I looked to the base of the window to see a smudge on the sill. It was a dark red--definitely wasn’t a handprint, but it wasn’t there on accident. I nudged Sam and nodded in the girl’s direction. 

When he noticed what I did, he cleared his throat and turned to the mom again. “Okay. Well, uh--I think that's all I need. We’ll get out of your way now.”

“Thank you.”

The widow turned to go up the steps with us following behind her. At the same time, Sam and I both noticed a strange mark on the back of her neck. It was an oval shape with a bunch of dots around it. The first thing that came to mind was something was chowing down on this poor woman.

------

Inside our motel room, Sam and I worked through our research looking for answers. 

Dean walked in with a weird look on his face. “Something’s wrong with the kids in this town.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed sarcastically. “Tell us about it.” I turned in my chair to look at him while I pivoted Sam’s laptop. “What do you know about changelings?”

“Evil monster babies?”

“No, not necessarily babies,” Sam added.

“They're kids. Creepy, ‘stare at you like you're lunch’ kids?”

“Yeah. There's one at every victim's house.”

It only took us an hour or so longer to gather what we needed. Changelings didn’t stand a chance against flames, so the plan was to burn the little bitches like forgotten toast. We all worked to gather our gear as Dean made a makeshift torch with a small kerosene tank.

I was dying to talk to Dean about what he heard from Lisa, but I didn’t want to push it. Not to mention, there were more people that were going to die the longer we waited to get rid of these things.

“So, we know that they can mimic children perfectly,” I said breaking the silence. “The lore says they’ll climb into windows and snatch up the kid. We saw marks on the windowsill at one of the houses. I wanna say it looked like blood, but I don’t think so.”

As Dean bit off the strip of duct-tape he needed, he looked up at us. “The changeling grabs a kid, assumes its form--joins the happy fam just for kicks?”

Of course, Sam was waiting and ready to correct him. “Not quite. Changelings feed on the mom: synovial fluid. The moms have these odd bruises on the back of their necks. Changelings can drain them for a few weeks before mom finally croaks. Seems like anyone who gets between the changeling and its food source ends up dead.”

“Basically, if you’re a babysitter, a father--you’re gonna be removed from the equation.” I tossed my jacket around my shoulders and put it on before lifting my hair out from underneath it. I swear, that jacket feels like a part of me.

“Great,” Dean seemed to think we hadn’t thought this all through and his sarcasm showed it. “We'll just bust in, drag the kids out, torch them on the front lawn. That'll play great with the neighbors. What about the real ones? What happens to them?”

“Not so much. Lore says they stash them underground somewhere. If that’s true, that means that the real kids could still be alive.”

Almost as though something had dawned on him, Dean looked at me intently. “So, any kid in the neighborhood is vulnerable?”

“Yeah…”

“We gotta make a stop. I want to check on someone.”

I met his gaze and knew exactly where he was going with his train of thought. “Ben.”

------

We sat in the Impala across the street from Lisa’s house that night. Dean had already tried to convince her to get her and Ben out of town until things calmed down, but she wasn’t budging. It wasn’t like we could just tell her the truth. 

After he had canvassed the yard, he hopped in Baby with a heavy sigh of worry. I know that sigh all too well.

“They took Ben. He's changed.”

“Dean,” I started. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. I checked his windowsill.”

“Blood?” Sam asked.

“I think Riley’s right. I don't think it is blood, and I think I know where the kids are.”

------

The Chevy came to a stop not far down the road from Lisa’s. The whole section was still in development with unfinished homes still being built. 

As we got out of the car, Sam and I saw a large mound of dirt outside one of the houses near a ‘Cicero Realty For Sale’ sign. We both picked it up and rubbed it between our fingers, checking out it further.

“I knew it wasn’t blood.” I stood up and brushed the dirt off onto my pants. “Red dirt. That’s what we saw on the windows.”

We all switched on our flashlights and Dean handed Sam the kerosene tank. “You take the front. Rye and I will go around.”

Huh. He wanted to hunt with me. That’s a good sign, right? Shit. I really gotta stop thinking about my life problems when I really wanna avoid the whole ‘dying thing’ for a third time.

Sam hustled in as Dean and I quickly moved to the back. There were large translucent tarps draped throughout to keep the dust and sand to a minimal. Unfortunately, they weren’t too easy to move through quietly. 

There was a noise coming from the basement and we both went to head down. Dean motioned for me to go ahead and he covered my back.

In the basement, there were tons of cages; what looked like large dog cages, actually. When we looked closer, each of them had one of the abducted kids inside...including Ben.

Dean ran to him with a hint of panic in his eyes. “Ben…” he whispered. “Ben…it's okay. I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?” He squatted down immediately and broke it open. Dean pulled Ben out and breathed a sigh of relief that I could physically feel as he held him in a hug. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good,” Ben told him softly.

Upstairs, we could hear someone yelling at Sam and we shot each other a knowing look. We needed to get the hell out of there. 

As we moved around the cages, Dean and I saw the body of a redheaded woman on the ground. She must have been the real estate agent. Well, at least then we knew who we were looking for. We rushed to get the kids out knowing we had little time.

When I heard Ben talking behind me, I turned to see him working to get the other kids out and to safety. He was calm and cool and talking them all down. “It's okay. You’re gonna get out of here, all right?” 

I like that kid.

Fixating myself back to the task at hand, I started to shuffle the kids towards a window leading to the yard. “Come on, guys. Keep moving. We gotta go.”

“Okay, everybody back! Everybody back!” Dean ordered and I used my body to shield the kids. “Cover your eyes!” He broke the window with a large plank of wood and tried to brush off the glass to make it safe.

Ben ran to his side to give him his little jacket. “Here. Use this.” Dean put it over the glass before going to grab Ben to get out. “Him first,” he ordered pushing another boy forward.

I could see so much pride in Dean that he was almost about to burst and it filled me. “Alright. Come on.”

Sam ran in, panting and trying to catch his breath. “Guys! There’s a mother. A mother changeling.”

“Shit,” I muttered. “We gotta get them out of here now. Sam, there’s one more back there. You gotta break the lock! Get her out!”

“I guess that's why the changelings are keeping the kids alive--so the mom can snack on them.”  While Sam picked up the little girl to get her out, he tried to comfort her as she shook with fear. “There. Come on, I gotcha.”

The girl screamed at the top of her lungs and we all turned in the direction she was looking. 

As the changeling mother came out from the darkness, I stood in front of the last three kids to protect them. 

It grabbed Dean and threw him through the half-finished wall and he groaned out as he landed onto his back. He hit so hard I could hear the impact. 

“Dean!” I shouted.

Sam was waiting behind her with the flamethrower and lighter. She kicked the lighter out of his hand and then roundhouse kicked him before he dropped the torch. 

I wanted so badly to fight beside them, but the kids were my priority. Turning around, I picked up one of the girls and pushed her up towards the window.

I could hear punches being thrown and landing and tried to get them all out fast so I could help. Ben was the only kid left when I heard Sam moan out as he hit a wall. 

Ready to charge, I stopped as Dean got to his feet and lunged at her with a two by four. The changeling hit him hard sending him back to the ground.

“Ben! You gotta go!” I pushed.

He looked so worried. “But, Dean!”

“I’ll get him. I promise. Now go!” Pushing him out through the window, I turned back around and readied myself.

The flamethrower laid on the ground after getting lost in the tussle. I picked it up and though I was ready to let it rip, I saw Sam was closer. “Sam!” Flinging it through the air, I threw it to my brother just as Dean clocked the mother monster in the face with a brick. She stumbled back and Sam pointed our homemade weapon. 

With terror on her face, she looked back at my boys as they stood ready to send her to Hell. 

Sam lit the torch and sent massive flames in her direction as she screamed out. The fire burned her to a crisp and her body seemed to burst into ashes before floating away...dust in the wind.

I went to their sides and Dean wrapped his arm around me before kissing the top of my head. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his lungs fighting to get air as he leaned into me with fatigue. Poor Sam basically did the same thing next to me and I put my free arm around him. 

“I gotcha, guys,” I said holding onto them.

------

Morning came quickly and we took Ben back home. Lisa was waiting at the door with tears in her eyes as Ben ran into her arms. They hugged and she cried as she held her son again.

“Ben?! Ben! Baby, are you okay? Oh, my god,” she sobbed. “What the hell just happened?”

Sam and Dean weren’t sure how to answer her question, so I jumped in with the best answer I could. “We can explain it all if you want. But, honestly? You probably don’t want us to. All that matters is Ben is safe.”

“Thank you,” Lisa cried as she hugged Dean. “Thank you.”

Oh, my god. She cared for Dean...a lot. They may have only spent one weekend together, but she still thought about him. Being back with Ben made her so emotional that it all just poured from her, her feelings and some of her thoughts. Dean was her hero that day.

Sam looked at us and just tapped on the hood of the car. “I gotta make a couple calls. You all go talk.” 

As Lisa led us inside, I turned back to Sam who nodded at me in comfort as if to say, ‘it’ll be okay.’

We had stood in the hallway and talked just the three of us while Ben sat at the table, lost in whatever he was listening to on his CD player. 

Dean and I tried as best we could to tell Lisa the truth, but having that talk is never easy.

“Changelings?” The way Lisa asked that almost made it sound like she thought we were crazy, but I knew she believed us with whatever happened to her the night before with the ‘fake Ben’.

“You know how I never mentioned my job? This is my job,” Dean shrugged. “Well, our job.”

“I so didn't want to know that.” Lisa spun to look at Ben. “Do you think he'll be okay?”

I half-smiled, full of discomfort in being there with them. “He’s a tough kid. He’ll be alright.”

“Look, Lisa--I wouldn’t ask this in front of anyone else, but Riley and I? We don’t have secrets and I gotta know in all seriousness--I mean, you're a hundred percent sure that he is not mine, right?”

She smiled and laughed. “You're off the hook. I did a blood test when he was a baby. There was this guy--some bar back in a biker joint. Ben may not be your kid, but...he wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. Well, for all of you.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s okay. You take care, Lisa.” I could hear the letdown in Dean’s voice and I wanted to cry.

All I could find the strength to do was nod before we headed for the door. She walked us out and we said our goodbyes. 

As we headed to the car, Dean took me in his arm and guided me the rest of the way.

------

Back at the motel, we were all ready to get out of the car when Dean turned to Sam. “Hey, Sam...you go ahead. We’ll be there in a bit.”

“Yeah,” Sam answered softly. “Sure.” He got out and looked across the parking lot before jogging to the room.

I was shaking knowing that Dean wanted to talk. His mind was racing a mile a minute on the way back and I was dreading when we’d be alone.

“I can’t take it anymore. We gotta talk.”

“Right now?” I asked him.

“Rye, I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

I tried to interrupt him, “Dean…”

“No, sweetheart. Let me finish, please.” He sighed. “I am so sorry for everything we lost, for everything you’ve given. I swear, I won’t push you to talk about the baby until you’re ready, but I feel like there’s more you’re not telling me.”

My head fell and I crossed my arms as I kind of bounced in anxiety. I didn’t know how to tell him what I was thinking. What if I scared him off? 

“I mean--I always imagined the fantasy of being a mom, sure. But, in this life, I didn’t think it would ever happen. Then finding out that I was pregnant...with our kid? All of sudden, I felt like I lost something I never had, but secretly always wanted. And I know...I know how you feel about hunters with families and I would never push that.” Tears stung at my eyes and the lump in my throat felt like the size of a softball. “Do you want that life with Lisa? I mean--she’s got a normal life. Can she give you something I can’t?”

Dean took the side of my face and his brows scrunched together as he got serious. “You listen to me. There is no one that I would be with over you--no one. There is nothing that would stop me from loving you and you are more than I ever deserved, Rye. I don’t--” he stopped and took a beat to calm himself. I could see the pain in his face. “I don’t think you know that I’m heartbroken about the baby too. I wanted to save you both more than I ever wanted anything in my life.” There was no stopping it, I cried. “Look at me,” Dean  said as he lifted my chin to him and his voice broke. “I would have been so proud...to have been our kid’s dad.”

I fell into his chest and sobbed as he held me close. His head rested on mine and we both let go of the pain we had been feeling. 

Dean’s grief was just as real as mine and I could feel it all, he was letting me back in. A

s we pulled apart, I looked back up at him. “Do you think she was telling the truth--Lisa? Do you think Ben is yours and she just won’t admit it?”

He ran a hand over his face and looked off before admitting, “I don’t know. But, he’s a great kid.”

Putting my hand up to his cheek, I pulled his gaze back to me. “...if someday, we find out he’s your family...then he’s mine too.”

Dean wrapped his hands in my hair and kissed me with so much love and passion, I thought I would catch on fire. He loved me and I was enough for him. That fact was all that mattered to me after everything we’ve been through. 

Dean Winchester loved me like no one ever had. And I knew, even locked in that kiss, that I would move anything that stood in the way of me saving the man I loved. There was no life for me without him.

------

S3 Chapter 3: Bad Day at Black Rock

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[ludacryst]

Survey Says..

1: How tall or short do you wish you were? I'm 5'3, but I sometimes wish I was shorter because of how cute it can be in a relationship. I've watched too much anime, okay?

2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not) Well, @warpedbelief didn't help me figuring this out because his dragon idea was really cool. However... I'll just stick with cats. I love cats. (I also love dragons..)

3: Do you have a favorite clothing style? Comfortable. Lol. I mostly wear PJs.

4: What was your favorite video game growing up? Final Fantasy series in general. 7 & 9 Specifically. My heart was always with Zelda ALTTP though.

5: What three things/people do you think of most each day: Erwin, Wiggles, PoF (Power of Friendship, so my friends/family.)

6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say? Caution : Speaks her mind far too often. No filter. Bossy af. Does not cave easily.

7: What is your opinion on [insert person/thing here]? I don't know.

8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic] Melancholic.

9: Are you ticklish? .....No...?....(Yes)

10: Are you allergic to anything? Lots of stuff. There's a list uploaded somewhere.

11: What’s your sexuality? Heteronormative Bisexual. I used to call it straight with a twist until I figured out there was an actual term for it. Basically, I'm emotionally attracted to men and commonly see myself in a relationship with men. (My Husband, HI.) However, I have similar attractions physically to women, but have never seen myself in a relationship with one other than physically.

12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa? Cocoa or Tea, but I'll drink any of em.

13: Are you a cat or dog person? Cat. 1000% They're chill just like me... once they're older.

14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson? Elf, probably. I love nature, I hate being allergic to it though.

15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber? Nah, I just skim youtube from time to time, no favorite.

16: How tall are you? 5'3.

17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to? I'd probably keep it in the realm it's already in. So, I'm Crystal. I go by Crys (Chris) so probably Christina.. or anything that could shorten it to Chris of sorts. It's just me.

18: How much do you weigh? 175-190, depends on if I've ate fast food recently or not. More averaged at 186, but it's jumped a lot the past few months. Goal weight is 125.

19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits? Sure. I don't disbelieve. Had a thing when i was a kid a few times that make me think something exists.. whether or not we know what it is.

20: Do you like space or the ocean more? Space. Stars. I love water don't get me wrong, but I'm more curious about what we can't physically reach.

21: Are you religious? Nah.

22: Pet peeves? Liars, people who try to grind my gears, people saying "I'm going to do it just to spite you." I'm tired of toxicity of people.

23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]? Diurnal. I'm defaulted to Nocturnal, so just eat some edibles and we're in bed by 10pm! :)

24: Favorite constellation? Leo ;)

25: Favorite star? Sirius, it shines the brightest.

26: Do you like ball-jointed dolls? I don't like dolls. They're creepy.

27: Any phobias or fears? Irrational : Dolls, Being around people. Rational : Heights, Closed Spaces t-t

28: Do you think global warming is real? Fucking. Is this seriously a question? Of course it's real.

29: Do you believe in reincarnation? I actually like to. It gives me hope there's something after death.

30: Favorite movie? I'm not sure I have a favorite movie...

31: Do you get scared easily? Nah, but I love a good jump scare.

32: How many pets have you own in your lifetime? Christina - My first doggie, passed away when I was in 4th grade. She was a mini collie~ Alexi - My green/yellow parakeet. Passed away at roughly 2-3 years old. Jiggy - My gray/white beautiful DHS big boi kitty. (2006-2016) Momma - My loving calico who picked me over everyone. ;o;  (2006-2018) Wiggles - Adopted from my family, he's a tyrant! He loves his dad more than me tho... [rude] (2016-???)

33: Blog rate? [You’ll rate the blog of the one who’s asking.] You CC please.

34: What is a color that calms you? Blue. Blue is always relaxing, especially softer/darker blues.

35: Where would you like to travel and/or live? Travel wise, I want to visit a lot of places. Germany, UK, Canada... more specifically Niagara Falls.. Live wise, if I could, I'd live in Canada. However... I just want to live in the midwest, or east, somewhere more affordable in the US.

36: Where were you born? Ohio!

37: What is your eye color? Blue-gray.

38: Introvert or extrovert? 1000% introverted.

39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs? I think they're amusing as fuck. I don't believe/follow them 100%. I do like to imagine what it would be like if they were right though. I follow zodiac stuff way more than horoscope.

40: Hugs or kisses? xoxoxo - Preferably hugs, they're for everyone! *HUGS*

41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now? Scotty! ( @warpedbelief )

42: Who is someone you love deeply? @hyphenhero - My husbando.

43: Any piercings you want? I really dunno any more. The only one I've been considering lately is Daith.

44: Do you like tattoos and piercings? I don't dislike tattoos and piercings.

45: Do you smoke or have you ever done so? Cigarettes are disgusting. Be more descriptive of your "smoking." I have marijuana vapes I enjoy.

46: Talk about your crush, if you have one! Well, I married him.

47: What is a sound you really hate? Anything pitchy. My ears have been killing me the past year or so.

48: A sound you really love? Meow.

49: Can you do a backflip? HAHAHA No.

50: Can you do the splits? Almost did them on accident the other day. It really hurt. (No)

51: Favorite actor and/or actress? Do voice actors count? Because then I'm between two. Johnny Yong Bosch and Matt Mercer.

52: Favorite movie? Wasn't this asked already? I don't have one.

53: How are you feeling right now? Tired.

54: What color would you like your hair to be right now? I really want to bleach it blonde again.

55: When did you feel happiest? Maybe when we first moved into our second apartment? The rent was cheaper, it was nice. I miss freedom. Though, I also miss having a full guild of friends and getting along and having fun together.. Man I'm getting old.

56: Something that calms you down? Marijuana primarily. Hugs. Kittens.

57: Have any mental disorders? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!] Anxiety, Depression, Memory issues xD Honestly you should just ask if there's stuff NOT wrong with me.

58: What does your URL mean? It's a nickname a friend gave me 11 years ago. Holy crap. It's been 11 years.

59: What three words describe you the most? Sassy, Bratty, Mom-ish.

60: Do you believe in evolution? Yes.

61: What makes you unfollow a blog? Too much spam/boring content. Stuff I'm not interested in. Sometimes inactivity for years.

62: What makes you follow a blog? Stuff I'm interested in typically.

63: Favorite kind of person: People I can just talk to about anything. I like to talk. I don't like to be pestered and felt bad about not responding right away. I enjoy helping people. So I'm mostly a listener. I like to talk about stuff we're mutually interested in. Sometimes I love people I can debate with but not hate after (reasonable debates.) I guess I'm going to be that guy and copy what my friend said.. "Engaging, but not too much that I’m constantly tired. I like doing nothing, but doing nothing with the right person."

64: Favorite animal(s): Cats. All the cats.

65: Name three of your favorite blogs. I don't really actively follow any specific blog in particular! :x

66: Favorite emoticon: :smirk: (use it on discord... though if you played maplestory, it's an F3 equivalent... )

67: Favorite meme: You said that tho?

68: What is your MBTI personality type? INFJ-T

69: What is your star sign? Leo

70: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog? No dog, but you'd be damn right to guess I'd train them.

71: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most? Any of the fluffy pjs with a thin tank top.

72: Post a selfie or two? https://ludacryst.tumblr.com/tagged/me https://ludacryst.tumblr.com/tagged/wedding

73: Do you have platform shoes? Nah. I don't have heels either.

74: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself? My memory is absolutely shit in most situations.  However, in certain and RANDOM AF situations it can be clear as day. If I want to learn/remember something? Forget about it. If I could not care less about something? You'll be damn straight I'll remember it.

75: Can you do a front flip? Lol, no.

76: Do you like birds? Yeah, cept the annoying high pitched ones T_T

77: Do you like to swim? I used to love to. I can't really be in the sun for long any more though.

78: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you? Never been Ice Skating! Always wanted to try. I'd probably equally enjoy both.

79: Something you wish didn’t exist: Mosquitoes, Cancer, Violence. On the violence part... It's mostly guns. If we had swordsman style fights - It'd be more interesting.

80: Some thing you wish did exist: Cures to incurables. Cancer, Epilepsy, Autism, etc. (I'm an epilepsy survivor.)

81: Piercings you have? Had an eyebrow piercing, lost it the same month I got it to pink eye.

82: Something you really enjoy doing: Watching television. I miss reading. I have a hard time focusing on reading now.

83: Favorite person to talk to: I have 3! Erwin (@hyphenhero) - My husband~ and my friends Scott (@warpedbelief)  and Brandon.

84: What was your first impression of Tumblr? What the fuck is this and why do people use it? inb4 I replaced wordpress with it.

85: How many followers do you have? I don't really check. My Tumblr is mostly for me... and I just restarted fresh these past few months.

86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes? Maybe if I tried. Used to be able to run one in 6.

87: Do your socks always match? Yeah.

88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely? HA, Never could.

89: What are your birthstones? Peridot, Sardonyx, Spinel

90: If you were an animal, which one would you be? Cat? Yes. Spoil me.

91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be? Tulips.

92: A store you hate? Umm.... I don't know if I avoid any stores in particular....

93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day? 1-2. My stomach gets pretty upset.

94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds? Fly. Definitely. I get lost in my own mind enough.

95: Do you like to wear camo? Situationally.

96: Winter or summer? Winter 100%. Hate the heat. Love the snow.

97: How long can you hold your breath for? I don't know. Like 30 seconds maybe?

98: Least favorite person? They who will not be named. It gives them too much attention.

99: Someone you look up to: I used to look up to my mom a lot. Now I'm more-so my own person, I just do what I can to do right by me and my hubby.

100: A store you love? Uhm.. Any cheap store... I don't really have a favorite. I guess amazon for saving me gas?

101: Favorite type of shoes Skechers.

102: Where do you live? California.

103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why? Nah. I love ham too much.

104: What is your favorite mineral or gem? Cubic Zirconia actually. It's so undervalued but so pretty.

105: Do you drink milk? Used to. Not really much any more.

106: Do you like bugs? Sometimes. But not in the house.

107: Do you like spiders? Sure, they get rid of the bad bugs.

108: Something you get paranoid about? Being followed. Bugs crawling on me.

109: Can you draw: Used to be able to. Not any more.

110: Nosiest question you have ever been asked? I don't know, I usually tell people anything they ask lol.

111: A question you hate being asked? Any question I had previously already answered, and they just weren't paying attention. Anything related to me/my own working/schooling.

112: Ever been bitten by a spider? Not that I can remember.

113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach? Yeah, it's really relaxing.

114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days? Cloudy, 100%

115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now: I would like to cuddle Momma right now.. Why you gotta go and make a girl sad for survey thing? (My calico that passed away last year..)

116: Favorite cloud type: Cumulus, Cumulonimbus, and Nimbostratus. Yes I googled them for their names.

117: What color do you wish the sky was? I honestly love the colors the sky is/can be, especially at sunrise and sunset.

118: Do you have freckles? Yes, but you can only see them when I have a tan. So to anyone who hasn't seen me since I was 10, you'd never know I had them.

119: Favorite thing about a person: How they treat people. If they're kind to animals. Eyes. Definitely eyes.

120: Fruits or vegetables? Fruits @_@

121: Something you want to do right now: Play Zelda - BoTW on Hard - but... I'm lazy.

122: Is the ocean or sky prettier? Ocean. But they look best together.

123: Sweet or sour foods? Candies or actual food? Food, sweet. Candies, sour.

124: Bright or dim lights? Dim as you can go without causing me to have seizures over tiny little things.

125: Do you believe in a certain magical creature? I wish. Dragons would rock my world.

126: Something you hate about Tumblr: Yahoo owning it.

127: Something you love about Tumblr: The freedom it USED to have.

128: What do you think about the least? I dunno, I think about it the least... so it won't naturally come to me.

129: What would you want written on your tombstone? Carpe Diem ....heheheh.

130: Who would you like to punch in the face right now? Why would I name them? Again with the attention thing.

131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself? My Epilepsy. It's shown me who really gives a fuck about me, but also it's taken a lot from me.

132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures? No, I hate my teeth.

133: Computer or TV? Computer, it offers more.

134: Do you like roller coasters? Never been on one, definitely want to try.

135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness? Sometimes motion sickness, never got seasick tho.

136: Are your ears lobed or attached? Attatched.

137: Do you believe in karma? I like to believe in Karma, but I really feel like people don't get their just desserts :(

138: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are? -5

139: What nicknames do you have/have had? Crys, Crysti, Cryssi, Crysii, Ludacryst, Toxie, Punky, there's probably more but effort.

140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends? I am unsure.

141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink? Yes. More than one therapist.

142: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others? Yes.

143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help? Giving.

144: What makes you angry? Lots of little things. Dumb things. Mostly the way medical/doctors are here... Our president... a lot of things really.

145: How many languages do you speak fluently? I can barely manage English, you want me to learn more?!

146: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries? I kinda answered this earlier.

147: Are you androgynous? No.

148: Favorite physical thing about yourself: My eye color.

149: Favorite thing about your personality: I'm more willing to let people go if they make my life worse. I used to be terrible at that.

150: Name three people you would like to talk to right now in person. My Mom, Scooter, Matt Mercer.. (shh)

151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose? ANY ERA WITH KNIGHTS AND KINGDOMS AND WEEEEEEE............ (I like a lot of oldie based shows.)

152: Do you like BuzzFeed? Eh.

153: How did you meet your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? [If you have one.] MapleStory. Not even remotely kidding.

154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons? Yes. I'm a very touchy person if I trust the person. I prefer hugs on most though. Forehead is pretty sentimental to me.

155: Do you like to play with others’ hair? Sometimes, yeah.

156: What embarrasses you? My teeth, my weight, a lot of things.

157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious: People. Crowds. Planes. Heights. New Doctors.

158: Biggest lie you have ever told: If it's the biggest lie I've ever told, do you think I'm going to out myself on social media?

159: How many people are you following? Fuck if I know... I'm too lazy to check.

160: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)? See #159

161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)? See #159

162: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)? See #159

163: Last time you cried and why: It's been over a lot of things. My health, my families health, my cat, hurting myself, etc.

164: Do you have long or short hair? Medium?

165: Longest your hair has ever been: Just below my shoulders.

166: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religion? Neutral mostly, because you can't prove or disprove a god exists. Just because you haven't seen something does that mean it's not there? Also, just because you believe in something, does it mean that it exists really? I'm agnostic. Though Wicca seems like a more reasonable religion in most aspects (I've dabbled in research, I hope that doesn't offend anyone.)

167: Do you really care how the universe and world was created? Not really. I just care if it's gonna blow up before I die.

168: Do you like to wear makeup? Like? Not usually, it just helps me feel a little better sometimes.

169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds? Nope.

170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully? As much as I could.

[lovethyjuju]

Millie Brown comforts moms and families who have lost kids to gun violence via @nbcnews