#Diesel 10: HE SHOULD BE WITH HIS OWN KIND! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joezworld · 4 years ago

Text

Fools in Love (2/10)

This, and all the stories after it, exist because I saw this post. Damn you @mean-scarlet-deceiver I was using my free time!

Thank You Donna Summer

1977

"I'm telling you, there's something wrong with me!" Bear protested as the workmen slammed his maintenance hatches shut. He'd been feeling unusual for some time - nothing major, but a niggling feeling of something being off. It was driving him nutty, and the men could find nothing wrong.

"Well boy-o," said Clive the foreman. "At this point the only thing we haven't done at this point is take you to pieces - and we aren’t doing that!"

"But it feels weird!"

"Tough. We'll deal with it during your next overhaul." The man said firmly, before following his men out the door of the shed.

"And people call Henry a hypochondriac." Muttered Gordon sleepily.

"He actually had boiler sludge and you know it!" The Hymek snapped as his crankshaft did another flip-flop. "And I'm not saying this just for attention - do you think I like having my hatches pulled every night?"

"Considering how often it's happened this month, I'd say that you must." Gordon sighed as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Bear seethed for the rest of the night, and was still snappish when he was backed down onto The Limited in the morning.

"You are in a dreadful state today. Are you feeling all right?" The lead coach asked as the passengers boarded.

"No, I'm not." Bear scowled, and said no more.

"Right," the coach murmured. Hopefully nothing goes wrong today, or he'll be apoplectic. She thought to herself.

-------

Kellsthorpe Road

Predictably, things went very wrong.

Late passengers, late connections, a cow on the line, and a broken signal arm meant that the train was almost an hour late by the time Bear and his coaches staggered into Kellsthorpe.

To add injury to insult, something was now noticeably wrong with Bear.

In addition to whatever imagined maladies he had, there was a new shooting pain in his gearbox that got worse each time his driver changed up or down.

As they set off from the station, there was a loud CRACK from Bear's gearbox, and an even louder shout of pain from his mouth as the train ground to a halt.

"I told you that there was something wrong!" Bear hissed as his driver slid underneath his front bogie.

He came out moments later, drenched in oil.

"Well, that's torn it!" He groaned as he wiped his hands. "A seal failed and all the oil is gone from your transmission. I'm surprised we made it this far before you disintegrated something."

And that was that. Bear couldn’t move under his own power, so a rescue engine was summoned while the passengers grumbled unhappily about the delay. Bear was also unhappy, but had passed the point of being able to speak without turning the air blue with swears, so he stayed silent.

"As much as I sympathize with them, they should be grateful that they aren't taking a bus!" The lead coach whispered as the signal arm dropped, indicating that the rescue engine was approaching.

Bear hoped it wasn’t James - he'd never hear the end of it if the red engine discovered a perceived weakness.

As the engine puffed into view, Bear's anger and frustration evaporated as he saw that it wasn't James, but instead Henry.

"Am I ever glad to see you!" He called out, eliciting a broad smile from his friend.

"What kind of an engine would I be if I ignored a friend in need?" Henry said as his crew coupled them together.

Bear smiled in return, ignoring the sudden resurgence of his nausea.

---

Talking seemed to help settle his systems - then again, talking with Henry always seemed to help his emotional state; conversation flowed between them with an effortless ease that Bear couldn’t really replicate with anyone else - and the trip to Crovan's Gate was filled with idle conversation about what had gone on since they'd last spoken:

James had once again annoyed a visiting diesel into apoplectic fury with an inane series of questions,

Douglas was still fuming over the officiating that cost Cronk's rugby team their match,

Thomas was still driving everyone on his branch crazy with ABBA - he knew the words, but had no singing ability at all,

And there was a new song that was sweeping the Island's record stores, to the point where a lot of the younger cleaners were bemoaning their long work days, as it meant that they couldn't get to the store before all copies sold out.

"I heard a bit of it in the sheds last week," Henry confided as he rolled tender-first towards Crovan's Gate. I think I'm getting old, because I did not like it at all."

"And yet you look just as dashing as you did on the day I met you."

"One of the perks of being made out of metal I suppose. It's the secret to my eternally good looks."

"But I'm made of metal, so isn't it my secret as well?"

"Gasp. I guess that it will have to be our secret to eternal beauty then."

Bear's smile couldn’t cover the wince that accompanied another unusual feeling from deep within his frame.

"What's wrong?" Henry asked, his voice colored with concern.

"I don't know. I've been feeling unusual for a while now. They've gone through every one of my systems and they can't find anything."

"What does it feel like?"

"It's very strange - my driver says it sounds like indigestion. At some points I get this feeling of, like, like my insides are moving in a way that they shouldn't be, and everything feels light and fluttery... are you all right?"

Henry didn't answer. His concerned expression had suddenly turned into a painful grimace, while steam began pouring out of places it shouldn't be.

For the second time that day, The Limited ground to halt as Henry’s driver stopped the train and dampened his fire.

"I think this train is just cursed," he said as he poked his head in-between Henry’s wheels. "Something has ruptured, but I have no idea what."

Bear closed his eyes in frustration. "If Spamcan shows up as our rescue engine, I..."

He trailed off as Henry laughed.

More than an hour later, the train finally limped into Crovan's Gate. A very bemused Class 46 that had been summoned from the mainland was now towing Henry and Bear, neither of whom could stop laughing long enough to explain the joke.

As she shunted them into the Works yard, they finally were able to tell her why they were laughing. The 46 regarded the two with amusement in her eyes. "You two are a pair and a half, you know that?"

"I had an inkling." Henry said, grateful that he'd been laughing too hard to pay any attention to his ruptured steam line before the men dropped his fire. Now that there wasn’t any steam pressure, it hurt a lot less.

Bear, whose gearbox had gone numb, was still chuckling at the absurdity of this 'superb rescue'.

The 46 rolled away as the workmen arrived, and any further conversation was halted as they began pulling tools from cases.

That night

"Oh, that's right! I wanted to ask you," Henry said suddenly. "What did those feelings feel like? Indigestion?"

"Yes," Bear said after a moment. "Indigestion, crossed with a broken motor mount. It feels strange, like I'm being filled with helium and lead at the same time."

"This is going to feel incredibly strange, but I feel the same way." Henry said after a moment. "It's like I have an ache in the pit of my boiler, but at the same time I feel energetic - like I'm pulling the express."

"Does it change sometimes?"

"Yes it does. Are you going to tell me that sometimes you feel better and nauseous at the same time?"

"Yes! I feel that way right now as a matter of fact."

"As do I. " Henry paused to acknowledge the incredulous situation they were in. "What a pair we are - Miss Spamcan was right! We break down on the same day, and we have the same phantom illnesses."

"And we're both green."

"And we're both green! How could I forget that? If you squint hard enough, we're essentially the same engine."

"Will you two shut up!" Came a cry from across the works. Several of the workmen were clustered around a radio. "We're trying to listen!"

Turning back to the radio, the man turned up the volume knob, allowing a thumping bass line to fill the works.

"I think this is that song I was talking about earlier." Henry whispered to Bear.

Ooh it's so good, it's so good

It's so good, it's so good

It's so good

Ooh I'm in love, I'm in love

I'm in love, I'm in love

I'm in love...

The song was very long - apparently it was some kind of "extended club mix", and the workers were very enthusiastic about it.

Henry and Bear... were not.

"Honestly, I'm quite nonplussed." Bear remarked after spending a few moments searching for the right words. "It's just the same words over and over again."

"It's for dancing mate!" Said one of the men as he swept up. "You're supposed to feel the beat and get moving!"

"I can't dance." Bear looked down at the rails. And I can only really move forward and backwards."

"Maybe you could spin around on the turntable, and that would count." Henry chimed in.

"I think I'd just get sick."

"Perhaps."

"I cannot believe you two!" Cried a young cleaner. "That was an amazing song! How can you not like it?"

"It's repetitive and goes nowhere." Henry said. "It's repeating the same words over and over again. I understand that she 'feels love', but she never said what she was feeling. What does love feel like?"

That brought the entire works to a stop. The men looked from each other nervously. Henry was puzzled. "What did I say?"

"Nothing!" Said one of the men quickly. "It's just... uhh... oh would you lookatthetimegoodbye!"

He fled into the staff break room, followed by several of his co-workers.

Henry and Bear watched with bafflement as the shed emptied at lightning speed. Soon, only two cleaners were left - Karl, the senior cleaner who had been on Sodor since the 1940's, and a young man whom neither engine knew.

"Children, the lot of 'em." Karl groused as he cleared up a patch of spilled oil. "It's like they've never been asked a difficult question."

"What was the question?" Henry, Bear, and the young cleaner asked together.

"Seriously?" Karl looked up from the oil slick. "None of ye know what 'e said?"

"No."

"Nope."

"I have no idea."

Karl groaned as ge held his head in his hands. "Love, you great ignoramus! You asked about what love felt like!"

"So?" None of Henry’s confusion was lifted.

"You're an engine!" Karl said after a moment of shocked, silent, gesticulation. "Engines don't ask what that means!"

"Why not?" This came from the young cleaner, who cocked his head in confusion.

"I- I- you- it's just..." Karl trailed off, his boisterous shock deflating into a curious silence. "I don't know. Now that I think about it, I don't think it's ever happened before."

"Well it's happened now." Said Bear, now genuinely curious about the answer to the question. "What does love feel like?"

Karl looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He turned to the young cleaner for help, and got none.

"Don't look at me. I'm still single. You're the one who married his childhood sweetheart."

Karl glowered for a moment before pulling himself together. "Fine. You lads want to know what love is? It's like a sickness. And you enjoy it. Just thinking about whoever you're smitten on and your pulse races, breath quickens, and you feel like you're going to vomit. Every time I saw my Maria before I told her how I felt, I wanted to run and hide, but never wanted to be more than more than a foot from her. She made me feel like shouting from the rooftops that I loved her, and I was fookin' terrified that she'd find out. It was awful!"

"What did you end up doing?" The young cleaner asked.

"I told 'er! It helped that I'd known her for years, but I just sacked up and told her how I felt." He paused, fiddling with his wedding ring as he did so. "And she said she loved me too. And then I threw up on her shoes."

He smirked slightly. "I was not smooth. But she still said yes! And that's all that matters."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "So you feel sick and that's love? That's what that song was about?"

"No! It's enjoyable! I wouldn't trade how I felt for all the gold in the world, and neither would Maria. We've been married for 38 years, and I still love her with all the strength in my body. I'd do anything for her."

He glanced over at the now-quiet radio. "That song is about how it feels to be in love, from a youngster's view - your emotions run hot, and you can't imagine anything but the object of your affections."

He turned to the young cleaner, caught up in the passion of his speech. "And you would do well to remember that it won't always feel like that, laddie! At some point, those emotions will calm back down, and you'll be left with a quiet set of feelings. And if you're stupid, ye might think that it's over, but it isn't! That just means that you've pulled the iron out of the fire, and it's cooled into a strong, solid love that will last the ages. You follow that advice and you'll stay a happy man!"

Henry and Bear watched in surprise. They'd both known Karl for years, and had never seen him this openly emotive before.

Karl blinked as he calmed down. "Well, I wasn't expecting that to come out, but yeah, that's what love feels like."

Glancing at the clock, his eyebrows raised into his graying hair. "Cripes, it's past quitting time. I've got to be home in time for dinner!"

He quickly packed up his cleaning supplies and dragged the young cleaner into the break room. In just a few short minutes, the works were empty save for Henry and Bear.

"Humans are strange." Bear said finally.

"That statement assumes that we are normal."

"What makes you think that we're not?"

"Fair point."

"Bear."

As the night wore on, easy conversation slowly turned into sleepy conversation, then yawning, before the two engines decided to turn in for the night.

About 15 minutes passed before Bear's eyes snapped open. The penny had just dropped, and it felt like the farthing wasn’t too far behind.

"Henry?"

"Yes?" Henry evidently wasn't asleep either.

"Do you remember how we acted in 1971?"

"Why yes, I do. I also remember how we acted in 1969, 1972, 1973, 1974, 1975, and 1976." Henry’s voice sounded calm, which meant that he was probably on the verge of screaming.

"Interesting." Then again, Bear wasn’t too far behind him on 'nearly screaming' front. "Do you also remember that the indigestion that we both seem to be suffering from -"

"Increases whenever I see or talk or think about you? Yes."

"Henry, are we feeling love? Right now?"

"Yes. I believe we are."

"Good. What do we do now?"

"I have no idea."

"Neither do I."

"Fuck."

#ttte #sodor #fic #fools in love #sodor shenangians #ttte henry #ttte bear #these idiots have been in love for almost a decade and they figure it out now #ttte gordon #donna summer

37 notes · View notes

isolavirtuosa · 3 years ago

Text

Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist 6-10

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda

The one where Dean makes a lot of mixtapes.

Parts 6-10/26 under the cut. Previous parts here. Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

- 6 -

“Hey, Cass, you wanna go for a drive-”

“Yes,” he said agreeably, appearing out of thin air. Then his nose wrinkled. “Motörhead?”

“What’s wrong with Motörhead?”

“Nothing, it’s just… loud,” Cass said, loosening his tie.

“You say that a lot,” I said, “but you know that we could just turn down the volume?”

“No, not loud like that,” he said, shaking his head. “It is… difficult-to-have-a-conversation loud.”

“I don’t really see the difference, but okay, what do you want to listen to?” I asked.

Cass seemed to freeze. “…me…?”

“Yes, Castiel, Angel of the Lord, what do you want to listen to?” I asked, nodding my head towards the cassette collection.

“I can… choose?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a shrug.

“But I am… the passenger,” he said, baffled.

“So you want to listen to Iggy Pop?”

“No, I… I mean, the passenger is to shut his cakehole, is he not?”

“Generally, yes,” I agreed. “But just this once.”

Cass seemed flustered.

I had just said it offhandedly. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.

The way Cass was reverently flipping through the tapes seemed like A Big Deal.

“I get final veto power,” I mumbled, trying to regain some semblance of my authority.

Cass hummed his assent, then pulled out a tape.

I held my hand out to him and he placed it into my waiting hand. I felt the warmth of his fingertips, then held up the tape for inspection. “You really like Bowie, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said, ejecting Motörhead and putting in The Man Who Sold the World.

Cass rolled down his window, letting the wind blow against his face as he watched the passing scenery.

Our conversations always meandered, about Cass’s work, about what was going on in my little patch heaven, about the past. I felt relaxed, listening to Cass’s low voice talk about organizing angel tree planters floating over heavy guitar and a cacophony of drums.

He paused when the title track came on, his mouth tilting into a little smile. “I like this song.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, it’s hard to put my finger on it, but… it makes me think of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.

“Did I sell the world?”

“You might have.”

“Huh.”

“I like the Nirvana cover, too.”

“Really, Cass? Grunge?” I scoffed.

“Kurt Cobain was an exceptional poet,” he informed me.

“Oh, man, are you trying to recommend music to me now?” I asked, amused.

“You know Dean, they did not stop making music after the 1980s.”

“Might as well have.”

Cass exhaled a little laugh, turning to look out the window again. He started singing quietly to the chorus, “who knows? Not me. We never lost control. You’re face to face with the man who sold the world.”

I liked listening to my tone-deaf angel sing, joining him in the final lines.

When the tape finished, I ejected it, then nodded my head to the cassettes again. “What’s next?”

“I can choose again?” Cass asked, surprised.

“Pick something good.”

He grinned happily as he started going through all the tapes.

- 7 -

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, rocking out to Van Halen.

Cass held out the bag of donuts he’d brought for our drive and I took one, taking a bite and continuing to mouth the words.

“I like sprinkles,” he decided, staring very hard at the strawberry donut he was eating. “They do not seem like they add anything of value, and yet without them, the donut is lesser.”

“Rainbow sprinkles for Cass, check,” I said, going back to singing. “I can barely see the road from the heat comin' off of it. Ah, I reach down between my legs. Ease the seat back.”

“Apparently there are many people who think this song is called Animal,” Cass put in.

“But it is actually called…?”

“Panama,” he said, beaming at me.

“Look at our little Cassie, all grown up,” I said, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder.

“The younger angels all come to me to learn about the ancient music of the 1970s and 80s,” he said proudly.

“Ancient?” I repeated.

“Quite,” he agreed.

“Anciently awesome,” I muttered.

“Are songs about strippers… anciently awesome?” Cass asked, his tone implying that they might not be.

“Strippers are awesome,” I declared.

Cass snorted at that. “Dean, your performative masculinity is unnecessary.”

“Performative… what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I growled at him.

He shrugged, a bizarrely human gesture on him. “If your idea of a good time is watching scantily clad women struggling to pay their bills while dealing with issues of paternal abandonment-”

“-which I do-”

“-then you should spend your time in heaven doing that instead of driving around in your Impala with me.”

“I can do both,” I protested.

“When have you…” Cass trailed off, squinting at me. “Dean, I think you need feminism.”

“You sound like Sam,” I groaned.

“No, our tones are significantly different.”

I just rolled my eyes.

“I am going to make you a mixtape,” Cass decided.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Of only female artists.”

Something inside of me rebelled against the idea of it. But another part of me thought about that catchy Taylor Swift song that I couldn’t quite get out of my head. “I don’t need weepy chick music,” I said dismissively.

“Deaaaaan,” he sighed heavily, like my name was ten syllables long.

“Do you even know how to make a mixtape?”

“I am very good at figuring things out.”

We all knew that wasn’t true, but I didn’t say anything more, and the next time Cass appeared in my car, he was proudly waving a cassette at me that read in very tiny lettering, ‘A Mixtape of Various Female Artists Made by Castiel for Dean as a Means of Edification'.

I shook my head at him.

He just grinned.

“You gonna put it in?” I asked.

“No,” he said, adding the tape to my collection. “You should listen to it alone.”

“That sounds ominous,” I said with a snort.

“I just mean that your reaction will be more authentic.”

“Okay,” I said, squinting at him. Like I was performative.

“Can we listen to Led Zeppelin today?” he asked.

“Um, we can always listen to Led Zeppelin,” I said. “Whaddya wanna hear?”

“We could start at Led Zeppelin and proceed chronologically?” he suggested.

“I like the way you think,” I said, feeling around for the tape and then pushing it into the deck.

After Cass had left, I could feel his mixtape sitting there, staring at me.

I glared at it.

What had Cass said? That I needed feminism?

This was going to be so annoying.

I pulled the tape out and pushed it into the deck.

The guitar that greeted my ears was familiar.

“Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train. When I was feeling nearly faded as my jeans. Bobby thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained.”

I felt a little smile tugging at my lips. I could respect some Janis Joplin, and the fact that Cass had chosen to open up his mixtape with Me and Bobby McGee actually had me a little impressed with his mixtape-making skills.

Then the song ended, and I could hear Cass’s faraway-sounding voice in the back of the recording. “Did it record the song?”

I cracked up, listening to him struggle to figure out how to stop the recording before putting on the next song. I had no idea what kind of equipment he’d decided to use for this, but the sound quality was a little scratchy, suggesting he might have just been holding up a microphone to a tape player.

Then the twangy guitar of Fleetwood Mac suddenly filled the speakers.

I listened to the tape from start to finish. There were some random moments of Cass mumbling to himself, trying to figure out what he was doing. There was also a very loud crash in the middle of Patti Smith, followed by some cursing that had me laughing so hard I had tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

And at the end of it all, I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell Cass had known enough to pick out each of those songs. Sure, Metatron had braindumped him with a bunch of pop culture references, but there was a depth to his choices. It was obvious he was mostly trying to choose songs he thought that I would like, with rockers like Suzi Quatro and Heart. But then there was Joni Mitchell, which was just so Cass to me.

“I am on a lonely road and I am traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling. Looking for something, what can it be?”

It was kind of beautiful, and I found myself rewinding it and listening again.

[Listen to Castiel's full C46 mixtape 'A Mixtape of Various Female Artists Made by Castiel for Dean as a Means of Edification' on Spotify.]

- 8 -

Me and Cass sat on the hood of the Impala, drinking beers while Black Sabbath blasted through the speakers.

Cass suddenly leaned back, staring up at the sky. “The stars are beautiful here,” he observed.

“Yeah, no ambient light in heaven,” I said, laying back beside him.

“Shooting star,” Cass pointed out happily.

I was looking at him instead of the sky. I looked back up, but it was already gone. “Haven’t you seen a million of them?”

“And I hope to see a million more.”

“How can you be like that?” I asked, shaking my head. I sat up again and took a pull from my beer.

“Like what?” he asked.

“I dunno,” I said. “Hopeful?”

“Is it hopeful to enjoy the beauty of my father’s creation?”

“I got no idea.”

“What’s on your mind, Dean?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You just seem like you want to talk about something,” he said, sitting up next to me.

“Not really,” I said with a shrug.

He stared at me for a long moment, then looked away with his own shrug. “Don’t tell me, then.”

“Don’t be like that,” I complained, nudging him with my elbow.

“Then talk to me,” he said with a scowl.

“Hey, Cass,” I said. “How you doin’?”

“Crappy,” he responded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t be like that,” I repeated, nudging him harder. That of course did nothing because he was an immovable lump of celestial intent.

“I am just being myself.”

“A grumpy-ass angel?”

“A grumpy-ass angel,” he agreed sarcastically.

“I like when you’re a happy, non-grumpy-ass angel,” I said, looking him in the eye.

“I am very happy, Dean,” he said, staring back unbothered.

“Why?” I asked before I could help it.

His expression took on a more thoughtful countenance. “Well, to be happy is to be ‘characterized by well-being and contentment’,” he said, like he was reading from the dictionary. “Heaven is still a work in progress, but it has been greatly transformed by Jack, and I am able to be a part of that. I derive great satisfaction from my work.”

“And that’s enough?” I asked.

“No, it’s not enough,” he said, shaking his head. “Work is just one part of life.”

I found myself chewing on my bottom lip.

“I have my friends and my family,” he continued, leaning in a little closer and trying to maintain eye contact. “When my work is finished, I can visit with them, go for drives with my best friend.”

“And that’s… good enough?” I asked.

Cass gave me a scrutinizing look. “Are we talking about me…?”

“Yes, we’re talking about you, who else would we be talking about?” I grumbled, feeling annoyed for some reason.

“Dean.”

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

I looked away.

“I find great satisfaction in my personal life,” he finally said. “And I am enjoying my new hobby immensely.”

“Hobby?”

“Earth music,” he explained, his expression softening into a smile. “I want to listen to it all.”

“Yeah?” I said. “That’s a lotta music, Cass.”

He nodded happily.

“So me makin’ you mixtapes… that makes you happy?” I asked, weighing the words out before I spoke.

“Yes, Dean, so very much,” he said sincerely. “It’s like you’re giving me a piece of your soul with every song.”

“Um, I don’t think it’s quite that deep.”

“Music is truly powerful.”

“Not that powerful.”

“And yet…”

I let him have the last word, shaking my head and taking a drink.

“Dean, are you happy?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a shrug. “Ya know, for a dead guy.”

Cass sighed very loudly.

I gave him my most charming grin.

“You are in heaven,” he said to me. “You are supposed to be experiencing the ultimate form of contentment.”

“I am,” I said, knocking our shoulders together. I realized he was starting to get upset, and I didn’t want that. I liked Happy Cass, as unsettling and foreign as he was. “I am experiencing many forms of contentment right now.”

He looked at me.

I let my hand drop to his knee, resting there. “I’ve got my baby, I’ve got my beer, I’ve got my tunes, and I’ve got my angel.”

That got him to half-smile.

I squeezed his knee. “I’m okay, Cass.”

“I wish that you were more than okay,” he told me.

“How much more okay do I need to be?” I asked, rolling my eyes and reclaiming my hand as I took a drink.

He just looked at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Can we listen to something else?” he asked abruptly.

“Too loud?”

“Yes.”

“Put in whatever you want,” I said, nodding my head back towards the car.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tape, smiling at me hopefully.

“What’s that?” I asked, holding out my hand.

He passed it to me.

“Joni Mitchell?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Blue is a masterpiece,” he informed me.

I looked at him.

“You said whatever I want.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, handing it back to him.

Cass looked pleased as he slid down off the hood and headed back into the car.

Ozzy Osbourne’s voice cut out, and suddenly the night was quiet. It was only a moment, and then Joni Mitchell’s acoustic guitar kicked in.

“I really like this song,” he told me as he climbed back up on the hood.

“It’s alright,” I said. “For chick music,” I couldn’t help but add.

“Dean, there is no such thing as chick music.”

“Uh, it’s music made by chicks.”

“So music made by men is dick music?”

I spit out my beer.

Cass shrugged, playing it off like he was just making an observation. Like he didn’t know exactly what to say to make me laugh. “I might like chick better than dick,” he decided.

I was dying.

Cass smiled a happy, pleased smile.

I slung my arm around his shoulder and drank my beer, contentedly listening to the haunting sound of Joni Mitchell’s voice.

- 9 -

“This album is a revelation,” Cass informed me.

“Really, Cass?” I asked incredulously. “Beyoncé?”

“Queen Bey, yes,” he said with a sincere nod.

“Oh, is this a monarchy?” I asked.

Cass sighed loudly. “Be quiet and listen.”

I was quiet, but I couldn’t guarantee that I was listening. “What is the point of sampling?” I grumbled. “Come up with your own music.”

“Sampling is like a storyteller passing down the oral history of one generation down to the next,” Cass explained, using that voice that sounded like he was talking to a child but usually meant he was talking to me. “It is actually incredibly intricate and beautiful when done well.”

“I don’t know, Cass, I don’t think Andy Williams reggae is for me.”

“Listen to the words,” he growled at me.

I tried. “I’m just not into jilted lover chick music.”

Cass straight up scowled at me.

I groaned. This was going to be a long ride.

Then something caught my ear.

“…is that Zepp?!”

Cass gave me a haughty look. “Funny how excited you get at hearing a lowly ‘sample’.”

“Zepp rules,” I said with a shrug.

“You should try being more open-minded, Dean.”

“I’m very open-minded,” I said incredulously.

“Because you like that one Taylor Swift song?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Cass ignored me and started singing along.

I decided to ignore him, too.

We got through a few more tracks that had me really thinking this wasn’t an album for a middle-aged white guy, but then out of nowhere there was a country song blasting through the speakers and Cass had gone quiet, touching my arm. “Listen,” was all he said.

“Came into this world daddy's little girl.”

“So relatable,” I mumbled, and Cass pinched me. “Ow!”

“And daddy made a soldier out of me.”

That gave me pause.

“Daddy made me dance and daddy held my hand.”

Losing me again…

“And daddy liked his whisky with his tea and we rode motorcycles. Blackjack, classic vinyl. Tough girl is what I had to be.”

I swallowed.

“He said take care of your mother, watch out for your sister.”

‘Watch out for Sammy,’ Dad’s voice echoed in my ears.

“Oh, my daddy said shoot.”

‘All right, if somethin' tries to bust in?’ Dad asked.

‘Shoot first, ask questions later,’ I found myself answering.

Cass didn’t say anything for the rest of the song.

I hit the ‘stop’ button.

His head tilted as he gazed at me, waiting.

“The fuck was that?” I finally ground out.

He blinked at me.

“I didn’t like it,” I said abruptly.

A frown tugged at Cass’s mouth. “I’m sorry, Dean. I did not mean to upset you.”

“Who’s upset?” I growled, speeding up.

“You are,” he said, like he was pointing out the obvious.

“Whatever.”

I almost jumped out of my skin when Cass put his hand on my arm again.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t know that things between you and John were still so… unresolved.”

“Dad and I are fine,” I lied, and no one believed me.

Cass left his hand on my arm, and after a while he reclaimed his Beyoncé tape and put in some Metallica.

- 10 -

Cass left the damn tape mixed in with my collection.

I kept rewinding it, listening again and again.

“Oh, my daddy said shoot. Oh, my daddy said shoot.”

Cass caught me, appearing in my passenger seat out of nowhere without the customary invitation.

I hit ‘eject’, and neither of us said anything about it. “What do you want to listen to?” I asked.

“Driver picks the music,” Cass said.

I shrugged. “Fish out some Lynyrd Skynyrd.”

He did so, pushing in their debut album.

I started singing along to I Ain’t the One.

This was what we did. Except, usually I called Cass.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked.

“Hm?” he said, looking away from the window to face me. “Oh, I just wanted to see you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” I said. “You don’t need an invitation.”

“You have said that before, so I thought… I thought I might take you up on it.”

“Good.”

Cass leaned back more comfortably in his seat, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. He’d been taking off the trench coat and the suit jacket more and more often lately. “Sam said the same thing, but I didn’t know that kitchens were a place for sexual intercourse.”

I slow blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Sam told me to stop by any time,” he said. “Then he told me to knock first.”

“Wait, wait, so Sammy was hitting it on the kitchen table?”

“He wasn’t hitting anything,” Cass said, squinting at me.

“Cass, come on, you mean to tell me that you still haven’t figured out the art of the sexual innuendo?”

“Sam and Eileen were… in a compromising situation on the kitchen counter,” he explained.

“Nice,” I said agreeably. “Good for Sammy.”

“Sam was not quite as enthusiastic about the situation,” Cass said, shaking his head. “At least Eileen thought it was funny.”

I leaned back against my headrest, chuckling. “Eileen is so cool, how did she ever end up with my dorky brother?”

“Opposites attract?” Cass suggested.

“Apparently,” I said. “So you got a real eyeful?”

“I saw more of Sam than I ever wanted to, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said.

I cracked up. “Gross, man.”

“Indeed.”

“Pick up any new techniques?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows at him. “Knowing Sammy, probably not…”

“Sex techniques?” he asked, making a face at me.

“Yeah, man,” I said. “Never know when some lovely lady- or uh… dude, uh… might, ya know, walk into your life.”

“I am not interested in having sex.”

“Dude, come on,” I said. “You don’t ever get the urge…?”

“No.”

“Cass, you’re killing me here.”

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much,” he said with a shrug. “Your sexual activity decreased significantly after the whole Mark of Cain skulduggery.”

I was scandalized. “I did not-” and then I thought about it. “How would you know?” I blustered, deciding to take a different tack.

“It is very obvious when you’ve had sex, Dean,” he said, like he was talking about the weather. “Elevation in mood, increased winking and eyebrow waggling, excessive cockiness…”

“How is that-”

“Also, the smell.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The pheromone smell,” Cass said, nodding his head. “Very distinct.”

I sniffed the air around me self-consciously.

“There’s also the ritual,” he said, gazing ahead thoughtfully. “Primping yourself-”

“Hey, now, I do not primp-”

“Fixing your hair, making sure your clothing lies just right…” he explained. “Then it is off to the bar, a few drinks, a few well-placed aw-shucks country boy smiles-”

“I do not-”

“Find a willing partner and take her to where it is convenient to fornicate-”

“Dude, really?”

“All I am saying is that you stopped having a strong interest in such superficial acts, so I do not know why I should have to be interested in them.”

“I am still very interested in those superficial acts,” I grumbled. “I just… there was always so much going on, ya know? And I just… well, okay, maybe I didn’t just want to pick up some random girl at a bar and take her home. I…” I trailed off, at a loss to explain.

“I understand,” Cass said. “I wonder if I would be more interested if sex with the person I love was possible, but since it is not, it all seems rather frivolous.”

“You can’t just dismiss it like that when you’ve barely even tried,” I said, shaking my head. “Look-” I started and froze, the synapses in my brain finally firing. “Wait, I’m the person you love.”

“Yes,” Cass agreed.

“Wait, wait, wait.”

He waited.

“So… you would want to have sex if it was with… me?” I asked slowly.

“Yes, I think so,” he said, nodding.

“And I’m not… interested… so, you’re just gonna be celibate…?”

“Correct,” he agreed.

“Cass, man, I can’t be the reason for you not getting laid.”

“You’re not,” he said, giving me an amused look.

“You just said…”

“Dean, I have experimented with human sexuality, and I do not find it fulfilling without a ‘connection’,” he said, making air quotes. “Maybe someday I will make a ‘connection’ with another being who returns my feelings, but for now I am content without sexual contact.”

“But-”

“Perhaps you should worry more about your own sex life than mine,” he said.

I glared at him.

He held his hands up. “I just mean that if sex makes you happy, then why aren’t you having it?”

“Oh, you watch,” I muttered.

“Are you inviting me for some sort of voyeuristic experience?” he asked, looking perplexed.

“No!” I cried, but then I couldn’t help but laugh.

Cass was quiet, but he had a little smile on his face.

“Is this really enough for you?” I asked softly.

“What?” he asked, eyes flicking to mine as he studied my expression. “You and I?”

I nodded.

His smile went soft. “Of course it is, Dean.”

“Okay,” I said, because when he looked at me like that I had to believe him, as improbable as it seemed. “Cass, I…”

“Yes?”

I struggled for the words and finally gave up. “You can drop by whenever you like. You don’t even have to knock.”

“Thank you, Dean,” he said, looking pleased.

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug. And that was all there was to say.

#fanfiction #isola cass & dean's infinite playlist #deancas

1 note · View note

rwmhunt · 4 years ago

Text

Leviticus, Chapter 25

1. It is fair to say that a poet Doesn't know their audience, When after 3000 years, a poet Doesn't know their audience. And here we've struck against the base Of our own Biblical Mount Sinai, where God, inside of the mountain, Could be locked therein for ever, yet, From an ocean of unconsciousness, hath he Up and telt this 'bunch of stuff' unto Moses-

2. Promises, promises, lo, My sabbaths; remember them? To summarize- whence Heading out of Exodus, Toward the underground city of Fuckinghell, God continues to remind the Israelites, How it were he who has them here, At assay in an escape of Egypt, As they go totalitaring across a plain, The which of is hardly considered In their headlong rush to go slow.

3. Six years sowing of land That you havn't got yet; So god gets Moses to Shovel it into the frontal lobe, Repeating things unto his pals, So sets off an imflammatory cascade, The old Israelites; a retinue, A ruptcy, @chemical riot, And that bunch of other stuff, You know this, but I'm reminding.

4. A seventh is a sabbath year- A sour, sownless, Pruneless kind of a year, You see it here, for Books are about power And bitter in at least two obvious ways- They first reflect the writer’s yearn For the acquisition of it, And then the mimic, With his fangled state therein, Of playing it.

5. Like most of us who are in this, Moses don’t have alot of power And less need to publish the fact- But speaketh of his learned scree- 'You write wrongly glib and varicose; aye, Where such be the matters I chose; As predisposed to distraction bade" He tries, talking withdrawl, In matters of affect- 'Your sentinels have rafted georgic, Whilest the staid remainder are discovered as wizened, and Departing from the liturgy, though heretical, You largely eschew the regular criticisms leveed agin the book.' But no, I didn't understand where this is coming from; to iterate, sometimes It's only a miracle that a meaning shouldst fall out of anything we find to say at all. Then, no gather; give solemn leave for the land Whence voice-bearers dwelt in rest, Yet as you read this, You are entering the prism of My power fantasy, And as I told you, you know this; So the dogmae live loudly in you. Woof.'

6. Connecting all these sentences, It becomes difficult- for thee, As we carry on recounting, As for thy servant, thence, for thy maid, For thy hired hand and for the settler Who, by thy side, sojourns amongst y'all; Where unto, to place the implied “because”? For lo, Power is versatile like that, And says things that send a spider sense a-creeping- So the sabbath of the land shall fall from thy alms as thy alimony, let Words be tools for regulating bodies, And say things that send a spider sense a-creeping-

7. Twill be a meat-based year For living on thy laurels with- A trope within a spectrum of abusive behaviours Alleged against the rhyzome Are scrutinising the system, where The fad prov'd trite, so I bade glib, Lo! Then terse, or droll, the dearth, I, gauche, give, both brash and stout, That it be I that is trite as it was glib For, wersh, I am not done with it- The rhyzome.

8. Muster seven sabbaths unto thee, Seven sevens be four and nine, see? From here to here, horizontally, The complete ribosomal pattern hath Codage for associative amino permutations, As universally preserved in the life taxa of all Babel, where the such displaces a lot of linear ideas, and, Lo fate, hallowed, Where hallowed is to be, For I warned thee; Go then, living as the rhyzome.

9. And make proclamation with the blast of the horn, For tis the day that it was once, hence, they Differ only in terms of the number of variables present, The coding of existing relations between the variables, And with regard to the presence or absence of an 'eigendynamic', Thus, can therefore be distinguished thither, As according to complexity, Based on these individual characteristics- As was once so it is differently, lo- Tis Yplangenday, and living is the rhyzome.

10. Round the ordinal up to L and proclaim liberty The bell, so thither, you have time's jubilee, Then let there be untethered utter manumission And flights of immigrant fantasy To whence-so-ever they think to have come. And breathless, Leviticus hath inferred That he was working unto A duel purpose- Firstly, his own double, As for control- To take the world and limit it, Or, extend it, unto his own end; And the other is to commune With the old world, the denied world, The general world; and to influence it, After his own.

11. So, la-la, be jubilee, As wild, As heady as happy can once a life, Or twice with once a memory of the other- And the pneuma of animula blows among the manna A numina, where the lord is the longest polymer chain.

12. So it is; then, Go eat the increase out of the field. But here are we levered; For it might be seen that there is a division second That can be put as of two spheres of imagination- Where firstly, there is that which is unbeknownst unto the beholder, and then also that which is consciously constructed, And yet, there is also the kingdom that lieth between, Which is a land of disconcerting paranoia and deviance, And where we must not lay with pneuma, nor numina As among the manna in the morning.

13. Yet lo, There's no point talking about it Unless you can talk about it; unless- Unless you can create enough updraft anyway; Lo! Then talk about it if you can't And I shall listen for what isn't there And look elsewhere for kennings after, And build about your unsaid vestige A most pious desire to expression; That which might uphold my feeling; No, there's no point talking about it Unless you can talk about it.

14. Barter or borrow and, For one damned year, just Don't get deceitful or try to get one over. Blindsided by the partisan nature of corporate consensus That I saw distort through the Furore Mirrors; There are many hands here, unto mine eyes, But, I don't trust the self who works emotional metaphor, So I won't continue to what I'm talking about.

15. Carry on trading way beyond, It's the local TA. Thus resides in per kilowatt hour, But what are we burning? Outside- I think it's a diesel generator; I hear it rumbling through my days Kept in the playground The fumes form long polymers, Amid the upper atmosphere, Clade with agricultural chemicals, They make headway Amidst our every organ; So be our dearest sacrifice.

16. And the market shall rise and fall With the arbitrary number of years, And whence far enough away, Return to your sarcky disposition- So what are we burning? In the tent, There's a wood burner, but, Really, detritus; Mose never minded, So any old when we run short, Mostly plastic bags; Leviticus has a fit When the smoke's building up, Talks about thousands of parts Per million.

17. To be fair, be fair, be fearful, Still me, remember? There was a grate, clarted up, That took of an outflow as from the tent, Of whatever swarf got sluiced, Unto wherever it went; the rest Were ushered up and borne out- So Terpsichore, laden with ashes, Went abroad one day, far enough That the gall and dust would not Be thought as being that of the tabernacle, Whence, dispensed, ashes and Hunks made boon to the earth's Mutable constant.

18. But the bible's broke and lost with the river That flow in serial and, as sevred, the chronicalers gone. Its belief's a decree you shall not leave me among, Nor make its fuzzy undercurent wash, Wherefore, the doing of statutes, The keeping of ordinances as them too; Though I concider, I cannot.

19. Land's a woman that yields So eat and dwell secluded therein. Love is not a symptom of time, Power is- time takes power, takes time. And you implicitly know this, so Don't think about it. Good girl Jade, who be it, That dwell in the land As declare of it a safe space?

20. And if you should be so bold as to wonder What to eat the year there's nothing, Know, that I'm not in a good mood today, Well yeah, you can say that again, so I said I'm not in a good mood today; As in; best not to press me on it, and Yeah, I heard you the first time.

21. Then sat in our suffering, Stuck in this wilderness, Black is the offering; No good for nothing, this, Left with our echo as Cut from our people. Lo, but, I'll give you a bumper crop From the previous year, and Lo! You're massive, gamesmaster. Ok, so, no worries, bonanza time; Brother, I never steer you wrong.

22. And damn it, Keep at the old store, Through the eighth, All the way into the ninth, Til your ship comes in; O Stop collapsing; Well done, men. It is not wise, it is quite unmeasured, to bait divinity With common hands, to scale Sinai, wild at heart, While sporting ultimatums of, Forgive me lord, Or I shall sin and the like- I said bring me the head of Martin Elginbrod.

23. And the land shall not be sold in perpetuity; For the land is Mine; as ye be strangers and settlers unto Me. So his own words, official words and the words of his advocates Hath set off an imflamatory cascade across hours of solid crowds. But not feeling seriously affected by the articles braught against it, He here found some unexpected allies among the Aaronide, Who, on hearing what he was proposing, Got on the blower to Moses too, and the results May be found between the leaves- as With the vertiginous chicanery they built A plutocratic sanctum of the unthinking overvue And with the allowance of themselves there to continue, Undeposed.

24. And lo, the land of our possession, Shall grant a redemption for the land itself, - So then, young people, said Tokata Iron Eyes, - I feel like we have eachother's future back; This is such a third fire that might save of us all. It won't ofcourse, but it's good to try; ...Shall granteth of us our memories; Let it be said that I so arose...

25. O forgotten brother, How came ye come so waxen poor As to prowleth these leaves, Having pawneth'd off of your possession, With I, as thy kinsman, that is next here unto thee, and Who hath come to redeem thee thy birthright Which ye hath verily, venally squandered? - Lo, for it is that I've been inside, for that I started fires; As I don't know what was wrong with me; I won’t be buccaneering with people’s lives any more, for I've come to agree 'That man should solve every problem that it hath the wit to so recognise.' And Mose rose while yet he held a look as in his eye.

26. For if a man hath no one to so redeem it, and he be waxen rich And findeth of sufficient wit to himself of it redeem; but 'You're talking into a vacuum about an unknown, So it's unlikely to feel definite.' Would you be the vacuum? 'Yes; for that I would, And yet, I am not what I meant- I mean the bit of your mind that doesn't know.'

27. Let him count the years, And restore the overplus, And get him out of hock, By the strange effect of the interaction That ends with the death of an animal; The flicker of even a spider drain, if There was an action to attain the weird, Folding-in unto an unknown metaphysical, As to return to in the everyday, and then, After a while, a bestial satiation, then, Ritual slaughter be your go-to profession- So make thyself mint.

28. And if it don't work out, well Jubilee, and all shall be returned, For that's the thing- if Fate needst me to, It could put me places No questions asked. And the thing with him, And the thing about such an interpretation As for him, is that it shouldst be of one's own- That it wasn’t wrong of Words but rather, that to Interpret was of a fault, And the problem is with your audacity in feeling uncomfortable, But, alas, tis Jubilee, so all of this is as a bridge under the water.

29 . Vicarious is my favourite word, said Leviticus, - The closest living thing to magic; Words themselves are a kind of vicariousness; And he drifted into another republic. So to the ease or otherwise of obtaining wall, if Erotion could walk by herself; it was difficult. Redeem your house for a year In a city, at zero percent and no questions- Always fair and square, aren't they? The begetting of a room advise Gleaned from passing strangers, Jade, why'd you hide your head?

30. And walled cities are a surety in Jubilee, and their tide go not out in perpetuity. There was a guy who used to draw his dreams, Because he believed them to be previsions For a future. He'd go with his opus to the local bank To have it date stamped in a photograph He'd get taken there, beneath the calendar clock. They were, at best, inconclusive, while he wouldst have Lived thither, as among his creations; - I don't know if there's a structural system in the universe; If i am a fractal of greater or lessers in a relative manner.

31. But should I find a rock Who believed a lampost to be a god, Then, verily should I be impressed with that rock; And daresay wouldst I subscribe Unto a new-found regard For the lampost to boot; so aye, All things can be called relative, By which, if you havn't a wall, You're reckoned with the field, And bailiff time be Jubilee; Now, take this learned decree hence, And be away from my townhouse.

32. I keep telling you- I don't have a favourite, And I don't think you believe me, So I keep telling you that I don't have a favourite, But if I did, it would be you, Though I treat you like shit. Oh, but you, here you can appropriate thus- Make manifest destiny through city or plain, And do not swerve for the biome in the rhyzome; That you havn't a head for mandelbrot sets.

33. It's getting technical, and tainted; Lo, forthwith, the rhyzome acknowledges That these claims about the claimants Be unclaimed, And we retract and withdraw the clause And undertake not to make repeat of them, And that means being open, Transparent and respecting The decisions made in this tent, By strangers in secret.

34. So in our submission, when one looks At our learned judge’s direviction, Freedom is an interface, A phantasmic discrepancy- You are doing as you're impelled to do, And you shalln't believe it so, And don't go selling off land.

35. Let anima be the trick That creates the illusion of life, And also that by which To behold it. And if thy brother be waxen without, And his means fall in with thee; Then thou shalt uphold him: As a stranger and a settler, So shall he live among thee. See? All's equal. And by this drystane dyke he Mopeth that fate shouldst be A fickle star, And got on, Uninterested in the plain.

36. Take thou No interest of him either, Ask not - 'Why your god?' Answer not - 'Because it's yours,' Nor - 'And how do you feel The palace of swords wouldst heareth you speak Your truth today?'. Yet there be, still, Within the arc- A falling.

37. Give him no cash Nor victuals against profit; Let him tarry and know Your god is yours alone; Is interstical and Is cut off from all other gods.

38. Else, in thy virtue, how much virtue, Meaneth you your virtue to signal? Me? I saved you, got you this place You havn't got yet; likewise, see? Manifest Destiny fell among the rationale Which led us out of Egypt in the promises, We can but carry it upon our bondsfolk.

39. And here doth he speake Of his mind As alike a torture chamber that hath Gone about something so insane As to totally overwhelm background processors; Thence, pressed into abandon, and A resultant neglect unto the congregation. Each layer, a further latent lexical signifier, And a broader drain on bios, all Ultimately, of it's own derivation, so, You might as well just assume, Where the real answer Is very close To the wrong answer.

40. The book, behoven As logistical playground, Finally spoke its silence, So I take this cardboard box for Some kind of underwater spaceform, As early evidence of animal oblation At the end of the copper age, As serve ye so until Jubilee. Don't be angry with me.

41.Lo, could I do it again And bury the text A full five times deeper yet, Then go out, to my own, And unto, such paternal possession Rest with him and ‘Hmm,' He’d say. - I’ll learn Hebrew, why not?’ and then, -'But I only know of the letters yet.'

42. My servants, as I so rescued ye, So shall ye not be drawn back to slavery Through the study of the methods of history (Historiography) Or the study of historical persons (Historicity) Where, the first few characters are my laws (Halakha) For how to make of a sacrifice, (Qorban) That a standard historical practice, (Ordinal propriety) Differentiating between what happened And what was hearsay is evinced essential, Lo, for as to a poetical artist, the difference is Negligible stroke incommodious, (Unwelcome) and, as Anytime was closer to history than this one, What do you know?

43. Let not some pious forgery Rule o'er your own with a rigor, But fear such a god who, unreasoned, Would teach the people How to eat right and be clean- Denying the biome is within the rhyzome, For, tis naught but an intolerable Bit of shuffling and roguery In the Jerusalem game of the ‘curios. Whence, various colonial archaeologists Would espouse of an erasure That it goes without saying And is thus worth pointing out- Where the particles of rust Were once elementally a part Of the thing which you are oiling, The particles of rust Were once elementally a part Of the thing which you are oiling.

44. Thus, reality, patterned, Might be applied unto, Whereon the actual engaged Behaviour hath gone and is lost; So take the over-arcing Frame, and know, Thither, it is a recreation, And, probably wrong. Then hold for thy merrye bondsmen and bonnymaidswomen, As of whom thou mayest have gained a fancy hereunto; From the nations that are round about thee, Them, shall ye buy of, that they be thy merrye bondmen and maids.

45. Lo, where each of the laws are windows Into the day of their inception, tis Hard to avoid seeing ancient archetypes at work, for- Who shouldst create a law Where there is no need for a law? Moreover, of the children of the strangers That do sojourn amongst you, Go get 'em cheap; tis my land, so your land, Tis usufruct thither, with they as thy possession.

46. And ye may make these folks into hand-me-downs: For them may ye forever take up as your bondsmen and merrymaids; But ever over your brethren, the children of Morningside, Shall ye not rule, as one over another, as with rigor. I'm not seeing the symmetry of central planning here; But lo, for in the game of one-upmanship Thus bade between the Morlocks and Moses; I'd give it to the Olmecs, Then return it to the virus. For the rest, Leviticus decryeth more fraff On how to pink the codes of holiness with examples, So, still I'm rerecounting-

47. In Exodus, God telt Mose how to build the tabernacle As a tent of meaning, Then it was that Leviticus got involved with God's teaching, As Mose blustered about over the lot and set forth his sacrifice From the land over which he cared not a jot, But to extend the part that is virgin and thus, Easily burned, as where, Maybe you left thinking Such be an example of how to priestlilly keep of your offerings, But we're still here, Positing queries to the tabernacle, Of the ways to behave in an uprightly if convoluted manner; And what am I going to do with this story Of a fellow who did all these wonderful things, Sweet hermit, who was a lion,

48. So let it be said, that Moses sacrifices Aaron to God: Leviticus doesn't remember it like that, But this's what is written, thus, will it be brought to happen. And should a strange settler do as you'd do, But to an offshoot of the rhyzome, then Redeem him damn it, you be a branch and brethren; I'm not spilling of what that means. But, Note well what he tells that isn't of story, For, as being without the narrative, So becometh it boring; Except where it's left, Both latent and loaded, With anecdote of sin or else, Suggestion of a fearful violation, As so be set to go off, though not Suchwise, as if left only unto itself- For there be the dispersal of power.

49. And lo, you can ever redeem of yourself with a flip, For poetry is forced, Forced as a rhubarb That I'd rather have, But, de gustibus, no, You shall not take My heart out To dine.

50. And that I shouldn't choose to be The appropriating, racially charged, Misanthrope that I am; which, By dint of a social education, I know, By the pointing out, I'm ok to carry it on, So giveth unto myself the blank slate- As I'm nearly finished anyway.

51. Some reckoning of years tallied by the sevens, As if it, you know; So as not to give him the pleasure... And if that doesn't work, Mathematically, put a fix in. As levity is a sacrifice That relegates the ur-text, So you will understand me; I pretend not To be the inventor Of anything;

But laughter is not so bad.

52. Lo. the corollary- - If I didn't write all this, Then somebody else would, I read, as I read back across it, And my eyes closed, And my head rolled. I've got to stop it.

53. Here watch the usurpation of another, Distastefully, and to yourself. - Sir, you keep your contempt On a high simmer Throughout your every engagement, And turn it up further Wherever you feel opportunity to do so, Whether it should be used thus or else let pass- And done so as to besmirch the other, all because You've the competitive streak that must Be made manifest among such others equally; First to sate, then, take beyond.

54. Otherwise, Jubilee, Else it is up with me on all sides. So it was with Leviticus, Who never said he were a poet, Only that his dreams Meant more to him Than they realistically Should have, and Though he drempt in such a way That he never thought he knew As to where he was, Thus it was always insubstantial, Yet such needst be enough; And that, atleast, he thought he knew.

55. Then find a man Who speaketh of people By their purpose, Himself as his own singer; Whose openness to wisdom Left him always Half an idiot, Where QED is our bible, Where holy might only Fall down to one's discretion, And use its fatal nature To activate the future, as I told you this already. Tis done.

2 notes · View notes

kileyrose-2003 · 5 years ago

Text

My Litttle Flower Pt. 2

AN: Hello lovelies! This request was originally request by @lizttzie with a continuation by @trueknotlover14. Link to part one is here enjoy and I hope you all enjoy it! I’d like to thank my dear friend @merci-bitch for putting up with all my shit while writing this fic and encouraging me to let my writer’s brain go wild. Love you all and hope everything is well.

Warnings: Major character death, violence against children

As you finally drifted off into a peaceful slumber on that mild autumn afternoon all curled up next to Rose, Abra Stone was completely aware of everything around her as she sat in her room on Richland Court. Normally she would of been in school by this hour but she persuaded her parents she was feeling “sick”

She just gotten back home after her little meet up with Dan and had her eyes shut as she laid back on her bed, trying her hardest to focus. She didn’t know what she focusing in particular but she knew had to do something. She had to stop Rose, but it was a dead end. Everytime she thought of something to try and connect her with, she got nothing.

“Uncle Dan?” There was no response.

(Uncle Dan!)

There was a pause and annoyed but short answer in her mind.

(Yes, Abra?)

“I can’t do it.”

(Do what Abra?)

“Find a way to the hat woman.”

(Abra, what did I tell you? They’re going to come back eventually and the more you look for them the worse it’s going to get. You got to leave this people alone. You have to stop all this.)

“I know but don’t you feel the slightest bit angry over what they did to the baseball boy? He’s got a family, Uncle Dan and people who want to see him.” Abra started to tear up a little bit.

(Of course I do, but he shined Abra. Maybe not as bright as you but he did shine and look where it landed him. Just stay out of it, Abra. I don’t want you to get hurt the way that boy did.)

“But I can’t-” The other end went silent and she let out a frustrated sigh. “He deserves some justice.”

(Abra, doesn’t everyone? If we do it for him, we have to do it for everyone and that is not a can of worms we want to open. Let it go. End of discussion.)

“Uncle Dan! Uncle Dan!” There was complete silence and Abra slammed her hands back on the bed. “Dang it!”

…

“Rose, how long should I wait til I grab the kid?” Barry grunted and he threw the stakes Crow always carried with him onto the ground. “Give it 5 to 10 minutes. I have to grab the canisters quick. Anyone see Y/n?”

The door to Rose’s trailer swung open and stepped out, wearing a pair of beat up jeans with your favorite t shirt. “Sorry Rosie, I was reading.”

“You’re fine, my flower. I just didn’t know where you were.” She pressed a kiss to your hair and gave you a quick hug. “Go help your aunts and uncle’s please?” You gave a slight nod. “Yes, Rosie.”

“Good girl.” She placed a kiss against your cheek and walked into her RV. You walked over by Crow who was fiddling with the knife in his hands. “Hi Crow.”

“Hi sweetie.” He looked slightly flustered. “Where the hell did I put it?” You furrowed your brows. “Put what?” You asked softly. “The sharpening block.” You seen it popping out of the pocket in his jeans and pointed to it. “Losing my mind, thanks darling.”

He knelt down to kiss your forehead and noticed your vacant face. “What’s the matter, little flower?” He tenderly held your tiny hands in his.

“I don’t like this Crow..” You muttered as you buried head into the soft fabric of his tank top. “I know, but think of all the positives that come from this.” He had to speak a bit louder to overtalk the hammering of the metal stakes into the ground.

“I know but I don’t like seeing it.” He let out a sigh and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing back up. “It’ll be alright.”

You heard footsteps and noticed Rose was standing behind you, stretching her arms. “You ready?” Crow nodded and Rose clapped her hands. “We’re ready.” You seen Barry walking towards the van and then came the pleas.

“No! No! No! Please, don’t-” You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard the boy scream. “No please let me go! I won’t tell! I won’t tell! Please.” You felt a hand gently rub your and you and you noticed Diesel Doug standing infront of you. “You okay?” You nodded with tears in your eyes and he scooped you up. “Come on, little darling.”

As he carried you over by the group you could hear Rose speaking. “Pain purifies steam, fear too, so now you understand.”

“No! No-” The sound of husky barks radiated through the air and you knew what was happening. You could smell the steam pouring out of him. You didn’t want it though. Something was wrong. Your mind wasn’t your own. Clinging to Doug’s shirt tighter you hesitantly reached out to him.

(Hello?)

Nothing.

(Can you hear me?)

Their was a moment of silence and finally you got something.

(I hear you. Look at me.)

You didn’t want to look at him though. Tears poured from your eyes and you sniffled.

(It’s okay, I promise.)

Ever so slowly, you turned your head and looked into the baseball boy’s eyes. Except this time it wasn’t him you were looking at. There was a girl older than you on the other side and she was strong. Horribly strong.

(Are they hurting you too?)

You could feel her trying to go through your mind and you let out a yell. “NO! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” The earth around you began to fall and you felt like you were free falling.

(Come back! I just want to help you! Why won’t you let me-)

“Y/n!!” You felt a pair of hands shaking you and you let out a sob. “No, no! I don’t want to talk. Just leave me alone! I can’t look at you. I don’t want to see you..”

You choked on your own words and you felt a pair of arms wrap around you. You breathed in the smell of their clothes and realized from the earthy scent, it was Rose. “Shh..it’s okay. I’m right here. Mama’s right here.”

You let out a whine and nuzzled closely to her. “Bad dream?” You sniffled and nodded your head. “Except it was like it wasn’t though. It was like there was someone inside me..”

“Shh..I know, I know.” Rose stood up with you in her arms and rocked you back and forth. “It was scary!” She shushed you again and nuzzled you close to her chest. “I know but that’s all gone. Mama’s got you now. I got you.” You looked out the window and noticed it was dark outside. “Where’s Crow and what time is it?”

“Almost dinner.” You wiped your eyes and laid your head against where her heart was and listened to the beat. “We slept that long?”

“You did. Crow left a little while ago because he had some things to check on but I’ve been up for a few hours now. Mama needed a little meditation time.” She pressed a kiss against your temples.

“Why?” She gave you a gentle squeeze. “No reason you need to worry about. I have to go up to the watch tower for a little bit though.” You gave a polite nod and Rose gently set you down on your feet. “Can I come with you?”

“No, my flower.” You let out a whine. But mama!-“ Rose interrupted you "No buts.”

“Why can’t I come with you tho-”

“Because this is something mama needs to focus on, on her own. Alright?” Rose forced you to meet her eye. “Is it for steam?” You could tell Rose was trying to get away from all your questions. “Yes, it is. Now don’t worry about it. Remember what I told you earlier? About the steam?”

“You’re going to fix it.”

“That’s right.” She kissed your cheeks and gave you a quick hug. “I love you honey. You know that, right?” She asked. “Yes, mama.”

“Good.” She released you from her embrace and patted your back. “Now go on.” With a tiny pout you walked outside, joining the other members of The Knot by the campfire.

….

Meanwhile miles away, Abra was sitting on her bed. Quietly talking to Dan on the phone. “Abra, you’re sure you weren’t seeing a past memory or something? Because if a little girl was really there, I feel like you would of seen her and she’d probably be dead by now.”

“No. I’m telling you. She was there and alive. She could hear me. She talked to me,” Abra insisted. “Well what did she say?”

“She told me to get out of her head, sorta the way I did to Rose. She looked so scared Uncle Dan. Except this time it didn’t feel as good to see her scared. I felt sorry for her.”

“Is she human or-”

“I don’t know. I think she’s human.”

“Abra, if what you’re saying is true they’re probably keeping that girl hostage and they’re going to kill.”

“I know,” She said softly. “We have to get her out, Abra.”

“But how?”

“What do you mean, but how? Abra, if they’re keeping her hostage the poor girl must be terrified.” Abra didn’t have to be infront of Dan to know he was confused.

“One of them was holding her, Uncle Dan.”

“What?”

“I think they brainwashed her.”

…

Meanwhile the True Knot’s bonfire burned bright with the setting sun as you sat in Silent Sarey’s lap as she brushed out the pieces of your hair that Rose didn’t braid. She never spoke to you, physically at least, but she always kind and sweet to you when she did through your mind and you returned the kindness in return.

Despite the chaos going on around you, you felt content. The fire was keeping you warm and you had no reason to complain.

Sarey placed a kiss on your forehead as she finished running your brush through the ends of your hair.

(Your hair is so pretty, Y/n. It’s so soft and thick.)

(Thanks, Aunt Sarey.)

She set your brush down in your lap pulled your back close to her chest, giving you a gentle hug. “Love you, Aunt Sarey.” She began to release you from her grasp.

(Love you t-)

Before she could finish her sentence you felt a pair of hands roughly seize your shoulders and you let out a scream.

“God damn it, Barry! Stop scaring the poor girl!” Apron Annie scolded. He let out a laugh and stole you out of her arms. “I’m just having some fun with her. Aren’t I, Y/n?”

You furrowed your brows and narrowed your eyes at him in a sour expression that Rose would of surely been proud of. “I don’t like it,” You pouted. His expression softened slightly and he hugged you. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Yes, you will.” Your tone was teasing and Barry chuckled softly. “Yeah, you’re right. I will.” You smiled slightly as he set you down your feet. “Did ya eat yet?”

“Yes, sir.” He plopped a kiss to your hair and sat down in one of the cheap lawn chairs, pulling you close to him. “You get any farther on Othello?”

You shook your head and he grabbed his copy of the book from the little holder he had on the side of his chair along with a pair of reading glasses. “Let us proceed then.”

Normally you weren’t the fondest of Barry but he was a good story teller and when he wasn’t in a pissey mood, he was affection with you. Tonight seemed to be one times and you didn’t mind. You didn’t Grampa Flick, Diesel Doug, or Short Eddie around camp.

“…and Iago replies with: I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.” Barry chuckled at the quote and you furrowed your brow. “What does that mean, Uncle Barry?”

“Nothing you got to worry about, doll. Just an adult joke, that’s all.” You nodded and he reached into his pocket for a bookmark. “Anyways, that’s enough for Iago right now.”

“Aww, really?” You pouted. “Yes, because it is bedtime for you little miss.” Crow took you out of Barry’s arm and you nuzzled closely to him. “But I’m not even tired!”

“Then I’ll find the TV remote in Rosie’s trailer and you can watch TV until you fall asleep.” You let out a tiny huff and Crow chuckled. “Will you at least stay with me til mama comes back?”

Andi raised an eyebrow at hearing you call Rose that but brushed it aside. “Yes, I’ll stay with you. Now say goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight guys!” You received a chorus back ‘Night!’ and 'Love you!’ Which you returned before Crow started carrying you to Rose’s trailer.

“So Y/n, I haven’t exactly done this with you before. Do you and Rosie have some sort of routine you guys follow?” You shook your head. “No, I just change into my pajamas and then she-”

Crow shushed you and you furrowed your brows. “What’s the matter?” You asked. “Did you hear something?”

“No…did you?” He shrugged it off. “I could of sworn I heard-” Before he could even finish his sentence Rose came tumbling off the top of the watch tower and you let out a scream.

“Oh Jesus.” Crow set you down on your feet and went running over. “Rosie!” She sat up on the ground with a bewildered look. Her face had a slight scratch on it and she was panting. “Trap! Trap!”

“Mama!” You sprinted over by Rose and knelt down to her level. “Mama, are you okay?” She held onto your wrist to catch her balance as she stood up and you noticed her hand. The skin was practically peeling off of it and you let out a scream. “Oh my god! Mama, your hand.”

“I know about my fucking hand!” She snapped. “Rose.” Crow gave her a mild look reproof but said nothing. “J-just get her away from me!” By that point Andi was already standing next to you and she scooped you up in her arms.

You were a little taken aback by it. Sure, Rose had her moments for being bitchy but she never yelled at you like that before nor did she ever push you away either. “You okay?” Andi looked you up and down and nodded, wrapping your tiny arms arms around her neck.

“Oh god damn it,” Rose moaned. Andi also noticed the injury. “Rose, your-”

“Oh will the both of just the hell up! I know!” Rose looked down at the blood and hissed. “What happened?” Crow asked. “She got inside of my head!” He looked confused. “What?”

“I went to look for her and the little bitch set a trap! She got in my head.” You noticed the brokenness in Rose’s eye and you felt like you wanted to throw up.

“How long was she in there?”

“I don’t know!”

“How much does she know?”

“Oh god damn it Crow! I don’t know. All I know is I want a fucking pill!” Your eyes started to tear up and Andi forced your head onto her chest.

(If she sees you crying, she’ll lose her shit.)

(I-i can’t help it!)

(I know but remember that Disney movie we went to see? The one with ice princess?)

(Frozen?)

(Yeah, whatever the fuck. Conceal don’t feel okay? You can do that for a little while right?)

You nodded and nuzzled closely to her as you heard the crunching of behind you. “We got a problem.” It was Barry, but he didn’t sound like his normal self. He almost sounded..sad. “Not now! Andi, give her to me!” Rose gestured for her to hand you over and Andi immediately complied.

Rose placed a kiss on the top of your head. You could feel the blood on her hand soaking the side of your sundress. “It’s Grampa Flick. I think he’s cycling.” You felt Rose’s posture stiffen and she set you down on the ground. You could see the madness in her eyes and it made you feel so small and alone. “Mama, what’s the matter?”

“Y/n, go inside please!”

“Ma-”

“Don’t question, just go!” You knew well enough to not argue with Rose when she had that tone in her voice and you turned on both heels to go back her trailer. You could hear mumbling something about Grampa Flick underneath her breath as she walked away.

You set your little foot up on the first step to the trailer and looked back. She was eyeshot now. You knew you should probably just listen to Rose and go inside but you wanted to know what was going on.

Quietly, you stepped away from the stairs and ran over to the side of her RV that was nearest to the True’s bonfire and peaked your head that way you could see what was going on. You could see Crow standing next to Barry in the distance and you leaned forward to see more.

…

“Uncle Dan, have you lost your mind. They’re going to notice us!” Abra whisper yelled. “No they’re not. They’re all distracted.” He was holding a pair night vision goggles up to his face as he attempted to stop you out. “What did you say her name was again?”

“Y/n and she’s six I think.” Dan narrowed her eyes. “She have Y/c/h?” Abra shrugged. “I think so.” He lowered the goggles. “Then I found her.” He stood up from his kneeling position on the ground. “Come on.”

“You think we’ll be okay to just walk right up to her? Uncle Dan, she thinks they’re the good guys. If we just take her away from Rose, she might get upset.” Abra stood up. “Once she’s things our ways, she won’t be so upset. Just remember be nice and gentle.”

…

“Did anyone say you’re immortal? I said eat well, live long.” You felt the pit of your stomach drop as you heard Rose talk in the distance followed by an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Your grandpa was strong. You couldn’t-you wouldn’t lose your grandfather.

(Grampa?)

Nothing.

(Grampa?)

Instead of being greeted by a voice in your head you felt a hand gently rest on your shoulder. You turned around, preparing yourself to have to give an apology to whatever member of The True it was that was standing behind you but you didn’t know this person. They were a stranger and they were a man.

“W-who are you and what are you doing here?” You asked quietly, trying to keep your cool. “Shh..it’s okay. I’m not going to let them hurt you. I’m here to help you.”

“Hurt me? What are you even talking-” You seen Abra standing behind him and your eyes went wide with panic. You knew her. She was the looker and based on what you seen happened to Rose’s hand you didn’t want to be anywhere near her.

(Mama. Mama, I need you.)

“She’s not your mother, Y/n. We’re here to take you away from all this Y/n. We’re here to help you.” You felt terrified. They thought you were their food. For a moment you debated on telling him you weren’t but you couldn’t do that either. He’d kill you if he knew the truth. He wanted to kill all of you.

“I-i-” You stood their for a moment and looked at the bonfire out of the corner of your eyes and decided you’d rather deal with an hour of yelling from Rose about not listening to her than playing Russian Roulette with Dan for your life. “MOM!”

“Y/n?! Y/n, my flower! What’s wrong?” You could hear Rose running up hill and Danny cursed. You looked him in the eye. He knew the truth now. You were fucked. “W-what do we do?!” Abra screamed.

“Run! We fucking run!” He lifted you up in his arms and you let out a scream. “No! Let go of me! Let go!” You kicked him in the side. “Abra, open the car door when you get their. "Y/n?!”

“Mama! Don’t let him take-” Dan shoved you in the back of the car and locked the door before getting in on the driver side.

“Don’t let him take you where? Honey, where are you?” Car lights briefly flashed in front of The Knot’s eyes by the time they made it to where you were and Rose’s face dropped.

The rain began to fall and her knees went weak. “Rosie…you okay?” Crow looked like he was about to cry. The whole knot did.

She stared down at the ground for the moment, rethinking all 700 years she was alive over. “I-” Her voice cracked and she let out a scream as she flung herself into Crow’s legs. Holding onto the torn fabric that was his favorite pair of jeans. “I lost her! I lost the baby..”

…

Meanwhile you were crying hysterically as Dan interrogated you from the driver seat of the car. “Is this all some sort of sick shit game you fucks like to play on kids?!”

“Uncle Dan!”

“No, Abra! Well, is it Y/n?” You buried your head in your knees and rocked yourself back and forth. “I just wanna go home..” Dan sighed and roughly patted his hands on the steering wheel. “Don’t we all?”

“Dan,” Abra scolded. “What?” He turned to look at her. “Stop. She’s six years old. Physically at least. Do you think she had a choice about this. She hasn’t killed anyone. Even if she is one of them, it’s not her fault.”

“I know. It’s just-” Dan let out a sigh. “Oh god damn it! We just messed with the wrong people and we especially just messed with the wrong bitch. We just took the Queen Bitch of the Castle Hell’s Spawn. We’re at the point of no return now. We have each other but we’re not numbered.”

“So what are we going to do? Can’t we just leave her somewhere or bring her back home while they’re all sleeping or something? I’d rather go with them then let you or anyone else get hurt. It’s bad enough I already ran away. I can’t even imagine what my parents are going to say.”

“I know..I know. Just..let me figure something out. I’ll figure it out.” He looked at you from his interior mirror. “Eventually.”

…

You didn’t know how long you were asleep for when you felt a cold rush of snowy breeze brush against the sides of your face. Despite how puffy and tired your eyes felt from all the crying you did, you opened them and seen a large broken down old hotel in front of you and you felt your heart drop.

Visions of blood and murder flashed in front of your eyes and you felt your anxiety rise deep inside you. The car door opened and Danny was standing by your side. “I-i don’t want to go in there.”

He refused to respond to you and lifted you up. “No! No! No! Stop! There are bad things in there. Bad things none of us should see!” You kicked and screamed with all your might to try and stop him but it was no use.

“You found the room key?” He asked Abra once he was in the front hall. “237.” Abra confirmed. 237. The number sank in your mind and you seen Mrs. Massey in your head. Her rotting body floating above the water.

“No! No! You can’t put me in there! T-they’re going to hurt me.” He maneuvered you in his arms as he walked up the steps that way he was holding you like a football and refused to look you in the eye. “It’s not my fault! It’s not my fault!”

Abra felt her heart cracking into two and stood in front of the beginning to rot wooden door. “Abra, open the door.” She didn’t say anything back.

“Abra?” He asked. “I-i can’t. This isn’t right, Uncle Dan!”

“Abra, she’s one of them! If we let her run lose she’s going to kill us!” Dan exclaimed. “And if we’re going to put her in there, we’re going to kill her!”

Before Dan had a chance to argue with Abra he noticed lights shining in through the hotel’s window and cursed. “Shit. We have company.”

“What do we do?” Dan thought about it for a moment. “Go downstairs. I’ll be there in a minute.” Once Abra was gone he turned the light on 237 and dropped you on the bed. “I’ll be back.”

“No! Dan! No! No-” He slammed in your face and you screamed out of frustration.

…

The clicking of high heeled boots echoed through the halls of the Overlook Hotel and Abra squeezed her eyes shut.

(I’m scared.)

Dan waited a while before responding.

(I know but we’re going to be okay. I promise.)

“Promises? Such a paradoxical concept you rubes cling to like.” The hairs on Abra’s neck and Dan gripped his axe tighter as he seen a pair of glowing blue eyes looking at him through the shadows. “Well, well, well..hi there!”

(When this starts, run.)

“Oh yes, you run dear and then I’ll find you and you will scream for years until you die.” Rose found herself smiling despite the situation. “We’ll see who does the screaming.”

“Oh yes, we’ll see indeed.” She traced her fingers over Jack’s typewriter. “You should be afraid, you know?” Rose furrowed her brows. “And why is that?”

“Because you don’t know where you’re standing and who you’re dealing with.” Rose laughed. “Handsome, you really have no idea of who you’re dealing with do you? I’m the Queen Bitch of the Castle Hell and I’ll make you suffer for the rest of time.”

“Strong words for someone who’s all alone,” He spat back with equal contempt. “She’s not.” Members of The True Knot started stepping out from dark corners of the room and Dan did a full 360 to look at the room around him. “You see, you have something of ours and we want it back. Now.”

“No.” Dan stood his ground and Rose’s smile faltered. “No?” She parroted. “I’ll never give her to you. You sick fucks don’t deserve to have children. Not with what you do.”

The Knot laughed and Rose began to step forward. “Oh honey, you speak of things you know nothing about..Danny? That’s your name, isn’t it?” He gripped the ax in his hands a little bit tighter. “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

“It seems to me that you haven’t had the smoothest life their, Danny boy. You’re steamy alright, but it’s polluted. Growing up spoils that. I can help you with that though. Give me the bitch child and my Y/n and I’ll fix all of that. Trust me, you’ll never want for a thing for the rest of your life. All you have to do, is give me the two of them.”

“Fuck off.” He went to punch her in the face but Rose caught his fist. His eyes turned to confusion and he began to squirm. “My, what a temper you have. So fiery, such passion!” She shoved him against the ground.

“Where is she?!” She screamed. “I-i won’t tell you!” Dan groaned. The sound of his head smashing against the solid stairs radiated through the room. “Want to tell me now?”

“Rosie-”

“Don’t back talk to me, Crow! I’ll fucking kill him! I’ll fucking kill you too if I have too.” Rose screamed. By that point Abra ran off and not even Rose cared where she went. “If you break his skull open we won’t get an answer from him. So you have to wait a little while to do that yet,”

Rose huffed and stared down at a now groaning Dan with those haunting blue eyes as she pulled her knife out of her pocket. “So are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

“I won’t tell..” He glared at her. “Pity.” This time when she slammed his head back she also dug her knife deep into the femoral artery in his leg. A puff of steam came out of his mouth and The Knot all trembled inwardly.

Barry licked his lips as if he wanted to take his steam right then and there but Annie gave him a look as if to say 'Not now’

“Now you want to tell me?” Danny coughed and hissed in pain. “No!” This time when his head hit the stairs there was a significant cracking noise.

Rose gave into temptation and sucked in part of the steam and she did, images of the hotel flashed in her head. “So much pain all your life, huh?”

He let out a cry and winced. He had to stop them. Even if that meant he got himself killed. The next blow blended in with all the rest and he let the now crowding around Knot begin to eat him. This time was different than the last though.

“Wait!” A satisfied smirk graced his face. “He’s not alone in there.” He could see Crow furrowing his brows. “Isn’t that impossible?” Barry manhandled his way through all of them. “Watch it asshole!” Andi slapped the side of his head.

“What do you got in their bud? Some special friends?” He laughed, thinking the whole thing was ludicrous. Danny smirked despite the gash in the pain of his head and the massive headache. “They’re not special. They’re starving.”

Crow felt the boxes open before he seen it and he pulled Rose back as the ghost from the Overlook left their traps.

“What the fuck?” Barry chuckled at first, thinking it was. “Should we-” Andi gestured to grab him and Short Eddie shook his head. “Barry..” He tried to warn him. “What parlor trick is this?”

He accidentally bumped into Mrs. Massey’s arms and the old ghost tackled him to the floor. “W-what is happening?” Rose asked. “I don’t know.”

“AAH! Make it stop! Make it stop!” Barry yelped as rotten hands began to make their way underneath his skin. “Shit.” Andi chuckled nervously. His skin began to morph and disfigured and Silent Sarey winced.

His screams began to grow louder and louder and finally it stopped. All that was left of Barry was his pile of clothes.

For a moment Rose was afraid that the ghost were going to turn towards them but instead they turned their gaze to Danny. “Crow?”

“Yes Rosie?” He asked. “Do you think you can handle getting Y/n?” Crow nodded. “I can try.”

“Go, now. I’m going to get the caravan to the front of the building.” She pressed a kiss to his temple and before he knew it she was already gone. He could smell smoke coming from some part of the building and breathed inwardly. “Okay Y/n..let’s see how this works.”

….

As Crow walked through the Overlook he left like he had eyes on his back. It was clearly obvious to him that the hotel had seen a lot of bloodshed but why he felt followed he didn’t know.

(Y/n?)

Nothing.

(Y/n?)

(I’m in here!)

Crow stopped dead in his tracks. “Where?” You pushed on the door with all your might to try and give him a sign, silently praying not to catch anyone’s attention at the same time.

“Y/n!” Crow ran towards the door and jiggled the knob the a few times before he noticed the lock on the door. “Fucking rubes.” You let out a cry and curled up by the corner of the door. Crow let out a sigh and placed a hand on the wooden barrier between the two of you. “I’m never going to get to home.”

“Y/n..don’t cry. I’m going to get you out of here.” You hitched a sob and wiped some your burning tears away. “Where’s mama? I want mama.” Crow rubbed his face, trying to keep calm. “Outside. Look, I’m going to try something, alright so I need you to just back away from the door.”

“Okay..” You sat on the bed, curling your knees up to your chest. There was silence for a few moments and you got nervous. “Daddy! Are you-”

BANG!

You let out a scream and the door swung open. “There we go!” Crow’s voice sounded almost doting. “Isn’t that much better?” You let out a nervous chuckle through the tears and before you knew it, you felt hands lifting you up by your armpits. You wrapped your tiny arms around Crow’s neck and nuzzled closely to him. “My Y/n.” His mustache and beard tickled you as he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“I though I wasn’t going to see any of you again.” His grip around you tightened. “I wouldn’t let that happen. None of us would let that happen.” You hitched a sob and held onto him tightly.

“I’m scared!” You whisper yelled. “Don’t be.” You shook your head. “They want to hurt all of you. They know who we are and-”

“I know, I know and mama is going to handle that but-look, I’m going to get you out of here.” You wiped your eyes. “B-but what about you? There’s smoke coming from the vents.”

“I’m coming with you but if there is for some odd reason a circumstance that makes me stuck, I’ll be fine. Got it?” You nodded and he carried you out of the room. “Now, come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

As you rounded the corner a grabbed at the ends of your hair and twisted it. “Oww,” You whined and tried to pull away from the source of tugging. "Step back.”

It was Danny. Except it wasn’t really him though. It was something more sinister that had taken control after laying dormant the whole night. His eyes locked with yours and even though you were almost immortal, in that moment you became so aware that the man in front of you could probably kill you if he wanted to. You gripped onto Crow’s shirt even tighter. “Daddy?” You whispered softly.

(Everything is going to be fine, Y/n.)

“Give her to me.” Crow’s hand grasped yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “She’s not going anywhere. She’s coming with us.” His tone was defensive. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Danny walked towards the two of you and raised his ax as he was going to swing at the both. “Say goodnight.” You screamed and squeezed your eyes shut not wanting to see what was going to happen you but then nothing happened.

“Stop.” You slowly opened your eyes and seen Andi standing in front of you. To your surprise whatever it was that was living in Dan did stop and you felt relieved. “I just got one question for you sweetie. Aren’t you sleepy? You’re sleepy.” Dan's knees began to give in. “Sleep!”

“They’ll kill you all if I don’t,” The hotel laughed in a last effort to gain control. “Sleep!” The Overlook slowly lost control of Dan and his eyes shut momentarily.

Crow set you down and Andi locked eyes with you. “Run.” It was ‘t a question. It was a command and you obeyed without question.

You could hear Danny in the distance as he regained control of his body. “Wha-what happened?”

“So, you get kicks off of tormenting young girls.”

“What?! No! No! I-” There was a single yell and you didn’t have to be within eye distance to know what they were doing to Danny. As you got the lobby flames started to turn the once white walls to charcoal black and for the firs time in years the Overlook Hotel shined bright like the star it used to be.

“Y/n?” A hint of a smile graced your face and you ran. “Mama! Mama!” Rose scooped you up the second she was within arms reach of you and cradled the back of your head to try and protect you from the blowing snow. “My flower.” She peppered your face in kisses and held you close as you cried. “You’re okay?” She scanned your body up and down for injuries and you gripped onto her shirt tightly. “H-he tried to kill me!”

“I know but that’s all over. We’ve all got you and we’re never going to let you go.” You felt the heat of numerous bodies press against you and you buried your head in Rose’s chest. “Wait! Did daddy make it out-”

“I’m fine. Andi’s fine. We’re all fine.”

(Besides Barry.)

He didn’t have to tell you that though. You felt it before. Despite feeling safe there was this underlying sorrow in the air. “What are we going to do now?” None of The Knot seen Abra after she took off earlier and whether she survived or shined bright in the fire with Dan, no one knew but that didn’t matter now.

By that point a majority of The Knot stepped away from you but Rose and Crow still had their arms wrapped around you tightly. “I don’t know. We have to leave. That’s for sure because the rubes are bound to notice this eventually and we’ve lost family tonight but we still have each other and that’s all that matters. Okay?”

“Okay.” Rose passed you off to each on of your aunts and uncles who have gave you a hug before you ended up back in her arms again.

“I love you, my little flower.”

“I love you too mama. I love you too.”

#doctor sleep #dr sleep #rose the hat #crow daddy #the true knot #true knot #snakebite andi #imagine #imagines #child reader #x child reader #fanfiction #fanfic #The Shining #stephen king #dan torrance #Danny Torrance #abra stone

50 notes · View notes