#Frank is just a broke traumatized man trying to care

[astros-silly-place]

thinking about escape au (my one at least) sneeg/frank…..ouuuuu they make me so SICK.

[master-sass-blast]

Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Two.

I had to input every single italic you see in this fic by hand because Tumblr doesn’t hold text format when I paste it innnnnn. *pained smile*

Please give this chapter some love, because that was fucking painful to do.

Summary: The aftermath of capturing Allison proves messy -both in dealing with the teen's evident trauma, and in all the skeletons in various closets that get unleashed soon after.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Rating: M for gun violence, depictions of death and injuries, depictions of emotional trauma, and gratuitous use of the word “fuck.”

Word count: 8.9k.

Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter One.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

“What the hell were you thinking!”

“Ooh, careful there, Doohan,” Wade snarks, head rolling to indicate he’s rolling his eyes. “Get any more agitated and you’ll be saying all the no-no words.”

Scott scowls at Wade. “Stuff it, Wilson.”

“Every damn night, laser pointer.”

A mixture of grimaces, sighs, and groans go up through the crowd.

You’re all gathered in the medical wing of Xavier’s –the X-Force and nearly all of the X-Men. Allison’s off being examined by Dr. McCoy and Alyssa –to make sure she’s stable enough to be taken out of the handcuffs and the suppression band—and Frank and Karen are sequestered in a separate room until it's clear how everything's going to shake out.

Because, naturally, there’s been a wrench thrown in the situation.

Or maybe the whole damn toolbox, you mentally amend as Wade and Scott resume arguing.

“We cannot harbor a mob criminal here—”

“She’s thirteen, Summers!” Wade snaps. The eyes on his mask narrow into slits. “She’s not a criminal –and her parents’ choice don’t automatically make her guilty!”

“Murder, illegal theft and possession of firearms, assault, stalking, kidnapping,” Scott starts listing, ticking off each of Allison’s misdeeds on his fingers.

“She lost her family,” Nathan interjects, voice going to gravel. “Where the fuck were all of you when she needed support? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

The room goes silent. Many of the X-Men members look away or hang their heads slightly.

“We had no way of knowing that Allison was a mutant,” Ororo speaks up. “Without the proper information, we can’t help. It’s unfortunate, yes, but out of our control all the same.”

“But you know now,” Wade argues. “You knew with Russell. You knew with all the kids at Essex house. You turned your back on him and those kids, just like you’re turning your back on Allison now.” He scoffs, disgusted. “Same shit, different day. You’re all a bunch of cowardly cocksuckers.”

“We do have limits,” Professor Xavier speaks up from his chair. “Russell and the other members of Essex house were considered wards of the state. Legally, that meant Essex house had custody of them until they turned eighteen. We wrote petitions. We did as much as we could to bring attention to the issue. Unfortunately, it got swept under the rug or stonewalled by anti-mutant members of the legal system. As for Allison…” He sighs. “Taking in wards with criminal connections put the school at risk. Not just for fear of retaliation –as would certainly be a risk with Miss Ricci’s connections to the mafia—but also our funding and licensing. As an orphaned mutant, she is certainly deserving of our help—” he pauses to glare sternly at Scott and a few of the more stubborn, self-righteous members present “—but we have to consider the needs of our other residents and students, too.”

“I think we’re overlooking that Allison is here right now,” Jean pipes up. “Whether or not she stays with us is one thing, but we need to decide what to do for at least the next forty-eight hours.”

“She stays here,” you say automatically. “As far as we know, she has no other guardians, potentially even nowhere to go. I don’t think it’s gonna kill us to give her a bed and some food to eat.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott fires back –and, behind him, Angel and Iceman nod. “She’s far too aggressive to possibly put the students at risk.”

“She’s agitated and traumatized,” you reason, “but that doesn’t mean she’s going to lash out at people left and right.”

“Doesn’t she have a guardian of sorts?” Neena pipes up. “Artemis? Has anyone gotten ahold of them?”

“We reached out with the number Miss Ricci gave us,” Xavier explains. “The call picked up, but there wasn’t any verbal response for the duration of the call.”

Well, that bodes well. “What about her attorney?” you ask. “If we can’t keep her here, wouldn’t her attorney be able to arrange some sort of safe place for her to stay.”

“Thus far, we haven’t been able to reach her attorney.”

And that bodes even worse. You fight the urge to sigh or roll your eyes, and instead mentally curse monkey wrenches and whoever thought to invent the damn things.

“For the time being, I’ve contacted some of our external resources” –the glance Xavier shoots at both you and Piotr tells you that it’s your uncle and Alexandra—“to help with matters until the dust settles. They should be arriving soon, so—”

There’s a loud crash from down the hall, the sound of glass shattering, and an angry screech that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck you, Castle!”

You give into the urge to sigh before booking it towards the sound of chaos and rage. Great. Now it’s an entire toolshed.

***

Subduing Allison this time, at least, is easier for several reasons.

First, she’s still wearing the repression cuff on her wrist. Without her powers –without a way to pop in and out of this existence, specifically—she’s much easier to catch.

Second, she’s tired. It’s not just the bags under her eyes or the sweat glistening at her furrowed brow. She’s stumbling unevenly, panting as she tries to exact her revenge.

Third, Illyana happens to show up at the exact same time with your uncle and Alexandra (and Nikolai as well, though he has less involvement in the “subduing process”).

Alex reacts fastest. She hooks one strong arm around Allison’s waist, then scoops her away from Karen and a hangdog-looking Frank. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Allison, however, doesn’t seem to agree. (Though whether it’s due to general teenage contrariness or trauma-induced rage, the jury’s still out.

…Actually, it’s probably both.)

“You don’t even get it, Castle!” Allison snaps with a manic grin, eyes wide and haunted. “You killed a good man. My dad was getting out! He was going to testify against them—”

Alex clamps a hand over the teen’s mouth, making her cut herself off with a garbled grunt. “I said enough.”

Allison thrashes in the older woman’s iron-clad grasp –to no avail, unsurprisingly. Her face scrunches up, then her jaw starts flexing. There’s a moment where her expression goes slack when Alex doesn’t react, then her nose scrunches up again and her jaw starts working harder.

Alex sighs, then starts carrying Allison back down the hall (she’s astonishingly unfazed by been chomped down on). “Come on. Let’s get you calmed down, malen’kiy.”

At the other end of the hall, Neena pokes her head into the fray. “Someone who calls herself Artemis is at the front door.”

Professor Xavier nods, then says, “Please escort her back to Miss Ricci’s room,” before wheeling after Alex and Artemis.

You look between Neena and the Professor –then, in the interest of going where you’re actually allowed to be (and not being bored out of your mind because you’ll be literally shut out of the room), you head towards the foyer.

…

“Do you think Frank was set up to stop the trial?”

Your uncle shrugs; the two of you have taken up a spot at the back of the room, where you can watch things unfold and gossip like the two old ladies you are in spirit. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that it was retribution for Allison being a mutant. The Ricci syndicate is notoriously… intolerant.”

You grimace. You certainly understand just how far people will go against their own flesh and blood for intolerance’s sake. “Blood and water.”

Your uncle nods, expression equally sour. “You fucking said it, punk.”

There’s not much point in hashing it out any further –both from the standpoint of “forbidden knowledge” and digging up old trauma—so you settle back into watching Artemis go through the mandatory security check.

She’s tall, with broad shoulders. Her hair’s dark, just starting to streak with silver at the temples, and her eyes are deep, intense, borderline black color. Her nose is slightly crooked –comes with the territory in this walk of life—and she’s dressed in black motorcycle wear and combat boots.

She honestly looks so fucking familiar.

You frown, brows pinching together as you try and place her face in your memory. Failing your own abilities at recollection, you lean over and whisper, “Is she one of your team members? I swear I’ve seen her before.”

“Uh –no,” your uncle replies (and it’s too fast and shaky, but you’re too caught up in figuring out whom the fuck you’re looking at to notice). “I mean –everyone has a doppelganger, right?”

“I guess.” You squint at Artemis, as though physically narrowing your eyes will help your brain puzzle things out—

And then Alex strides into the foyer –wiping the hand that Allison bit, and if you look close enough you’re pretty sure you can still see a few bloody teeth marks—and the cloud of confusion lifts from your mind.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly. “That’s why she looks familiar! She looks like Alex.” You look from the Rasputin matriarch, to the other black-leather clad woman, then back again. “She looks… a lot like Alex, actually.” You laugh softly –coincidence is a hell of a thing—then keep rambling when your uncle doesn’t say anything. “Two women who love the color black and carry enough weapons on their person to stock an army. You’d think the universe broke the mold with Alex, huh?”

Your uncle shifts from foot to foot next to you, but says nothing.

“You really weren’t kidding about the whole ‘doppelganger’ thing, huh.” You cock your head to one side, then frown as another epiphany starts growing in your mind. “Actually… she kind of looks like you, too.”

Your uncle makes a quiet, pained choking noise. “Punk—”

“Yeah, she’s got more of your build…”

“Punk.”

“And her lower lip has that weird lopsided curve like yours—”

“Punk—”

You peer closer at Artemis’s face. “Actually, her nose looks like you took yours and Alex’s and mashed them together—”

“Punk.”

You finally look up at him and take in the pale, wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression on his face. “What?” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at Artemis, then Alex, and then back at him—

Oh God.

Oh God.

Holy fucking shit.

You stare up at your uncle, agape. “Wait a second –you and—”

“Okay, shut the fuck up!” he hisses, panicked, before dragging you out of the foyer and into the nearest hallway.

“You and Alex had a baby,” you blurt –albeit in a voice no louder than a harsh whisper. “Artemis is your and her lovechild!”

He winces, then holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“I don’t think you can!” you hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me that I have a cousin who happens to be my husband’s half fucking sister! Oh God, does Piotr know? Do any of the Rasputins know?”

“I…” He trails off, then cringes. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, actually.”

You stare up at him, dumbfounded. “You’re not sure. How are you not sure? Nick knows who you are –what, you think Alex just kept a whole child from his knowledge—”

“I mean, he probably knows that there was a baby at one point—”

“The baby is in this fucking house!” you snap in a quiet growl, arms flailing wildly. “She’s a full grown adult who probably pays taxes and has a 401k going! Why wouldn’t Alex tell her husband—”

“Look,” your uncle interjects, cutting you off. “As far as Alex knows… she thinks she’s… dead?”

You gape. Then, as quietly as you can manage (given the circumstances), you exclaim, “What the fuck!”

“Keep your voice down!” your uncle hisses, gesturing wildly in panic. He looks over his shoulder, then when he’s certain no one overheard you, he sighs and looks back to you. “Look, it’s a long story—”

“I’m sure it fucking is!” You cross your arms over your chest when he winces. “How is it that you know your secret lovechild is alive, but Alex doesn’t? What, did she just abandon her?”

“No, no—”

“Didn’t think so. So what the fuck happened?”

He sighs, shoulder slumping, and runs one hand through his already disheveled hair. “Look –long story short, the people who ‘made’ Alex took the baby—”

“Artemis. Her daughter. Your daughter.”

He purses his lips, but concedes with a nod. “They took her away after she was born and told Alex she was dead –and that’s actually what prompted her to get out, but that’s another story for another day—”

“Okay, hang on a second.” You squeeze your eyes shut and hold up one hand. “Alex thinks her baby is dead –probably one of the most traumatic things in her whole life. You’ve known that she’s alive…” You open your eyes again and fix your uncle with a stern stare. “Okay, how long have you known for?”

He grimaces and shifts uncomfortably. “…well, the US took her, but she didn’t present early, so they turned her loose into the foster system because she didn’t have potential as an ‘asset’—”

“How fucking long?”

He ducks his head, carefully avoiding your gaze. “…tracked her down when she was ten.”

Your eyes widen –and then you slug him in the shoulder. “You fucking colossal asshole!”

He panics again, motioning for you to keep it down while checking over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up!”

“No! Not only have you lied to Alex for decades—”

“She never asked—”

“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie!” you snap in a gravelly whisper. “So, not only did you lie to her, but you also abandoned your daughter to the mercies of the US foster care system!”

“My life wasn’t safe to keep a kid around!” he hisses back at you. “I couldn’t take care of you, and I couldn’t take care of her! If anything, it was safer for her if the government thought I didn’t know she was alive!”

You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose, and wave dismissively with your other hand. “Okay –fine. That still doesn’t justify the whole lying thing, but whatever. Does Artemis know that you and Alex are her parents?”

“…Yes. She tracked me down when she was in her twenties and I told her the truth.”

“Well, it sounds like determination runs in the family,” you mutter. “But at least you two have kept in touch…” You look up, see your uncle’s grimace, and sigh. “You didn’t keep in touch with her.”

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Pretty sure ‘not like that’ is a good answer.” You sigh again, then shrug and put your hands on your hips. “Well, you’ve probably solved your own problem. She’ll probably just tell Alex who she is just to spite you, assuming she got the ‘petty vengeance’ gene too.”

Your uncle’s eyebrows spike to his hairline, and his expression goes through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. “She –she can’t—”

“She can and she probably will.”

He hunches over, crouching, and grips the back of his head. “Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck—”

“Myshka?”

You and your uncle both jump, then whirl in unison and give your husband your best convincing, “we’re totally not talking about long lost, hidden family members and other poor life choices” smiles that you can each manage.

(Consider that you don’t look like you just shit your pants, you win.)

Piotr’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “What… is everything alright?”

“Just fine, baby,” you assure him, subtly kicking your uncle so he relaxes. “Just talking about what happens next.”

Piotr nods after a moment, likely picking up on that whatever’s going on right now isn’t life or death and that you’ll fill him in later. “I actually came to find you,” he says, gesturing to your uncle. “Professor Xavier still cannot reach Allison’s lawyer. He has asked for your assistance.”

“Right. Absolutely. On it,” your uncle says with a none-too-convincing smile. He shoots your husband a pair of finger guns, then books it out of the hall and towards the medical wing of the mansion.

Piotr stares after him, then shoots you a confused frown. “Is he okay?”

You shrug. “He’s doing about his usual.” You decide to further sidestep the issue by ambling over to him and giving him a gentle hug. “How are you?” Are doing okay?”

Piotr wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I am fine now. Just a little sore.”

“Me too.” You nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest. “We really should invest in that hot tub we keep talking about getting. It’d be great for post-mission recovery.”

“Hot tubs are expensive, myshka,” he chuckles.

“Yes, but we’re not getting any younger. It’d be a good investment in taking care of our bodies.” You tilt your head back and grin up at him. “I thought you were all about that life.”

He sighs and shakes his head, feigning exasperation, but his amused smile is a dead giveaway. “Whatever shall I do with you, myshka?”

You grin wider. “You could kiss me.”

Piotr grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours—

Mikhail appears next to you out of thin air. “Ah. Gross. Big meeting is happening. All hands on deck.”

Piotr rolls his eyes when his elder brother teleports away once more, then looks back down at you and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, baby.” You unwind your arms from his massive trunk of a torso, then slide your fingers between his as the two of you walk towards the medical wing.

…

“—I am telling you, Charles, not being able to reach this kid’s lawyer is a bad fucking sign.”

You and Piotr walk into a conference room to find your uncle and Professor Xavier locked in a heated argument.

Wade, Nate, and Neena are leaning against the table to watch, occasionally leaning over to whisper bits of commentary to each other (or, in Wade’s case, speak at normal volume).

In the corner of the room, where a couple of armchairs are positioned, Nikolai sits with his two other children; they’re speaking in hushed Russian, but none of them seem too concerned about everything else going on.

“As I previously stated,” Xavier says, words clipped, “we cannot release Miss Ricci without speaking first to her attorney. The X-Men operate as a special law enforcement service, and failure to comply with criminal and civil statutes will have enormous consequences for the Institute—”

“There’s going to be a bunch of fucking ‘enormous consequences’ for the Institute,” your uncle interrupts, growling through clenched teeth, “if you don’t evacuate this building right fucking now! Fuck’s sake, Charles –you hired me as a security advisor; just listen to me.”

Piotr frowns and curls one hand over your shoulder. “What is happening?”

“What’s happening,” a new, strong, feminine voice interjects from the hall, “is that we’re leaving.” Artemis shoulders past your husband –a feat not easily achieved by many—with Allison in tow, then holds up the teen’s arm that has the repression cuff still attached. She glares at Xavier (and God, she really looks like Alex when she does that), then spits out through gritted, bared teeth, “Get this fucking thing off my kid.”

There’s a longsuffering sigh in the hall, and then Alex steps into the doorway. “She has that cuff on for her own safety –as I already told you—”

Artemis whirls, face contorted by a vicious scowl, and snaps, “I didn’t fucking ask for you input!”

(Boy, if that doesn’t just scream ‘repressed trauma and mommy issues.’)

Your uncle looks like he’s about to pass out again, but Alex seems remarkably nonplussed. She merely raises one eyebrow at Artemis, as if to say ‘that’s all you got?’

There’s no way she knows, you think as you watch the two stare each other down. Not with how much she cares about her kids. There’s no fucking way—

“Actually, we’ve got bigger problems,” your uncle pipes up, voice quavering slightly before he clears his throat. “We can’t reach your kid’s shark.”

“They have other clients,” Artemis retorts, upper lip curling in a derisive sneer. Her dark eyes smolder with barely constrained hatred as she tosses a withering glance in his direction (daddy issues, too, this chick won the whole lottery). “Or maybe they got stuck in traffic.”

Your uncle narrows his eyes at that (and now the two of them look so much alike, overcome by ire as they are). “You cannot possibly be that fucking stupid.”

Artemis sucks a breath through her teeth, eyes widening with rage and hurt. “You fucking dick—”

In the corner of the room, Illyana bolts upright before going stock still. Then, she gasps and reaches out towards her mother. “Mama!”

(The way Artemis’s face mars with a pained grimace makes your heart ache.)

Alex tenses, eyes glowing gold as she starts scanning the horizon (presumably checking for heat signatures). “Gde?”

The room goes quiet –and then you hear it.

The sound of engines rumbling –multiple engines—and car wheels crunching against gravel. Doors thumping open and shut, followed by footsteps. Hushed voices.

You scamper over to the nearest window and float up, just enough to see several men clad in black and Kevlar and carrying rifles stalking towards the front door and around the sides of the house in groups. “Guys with guns. Lots of them.”

“Then get down!” Nate hisses before yanking you back from the window.

“Lights out,” Alex orders before hitting the switch herself. “Get everyone to a reinforced room.”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Xavier says before wheeling himself towards the door.

Allison clings to Artemis’s sleeve, much like a baby koala. “What’s going on? What’s going to happen?”

“Go with the Professor,” Artemis says. She quickly –but gently—frees her arm, then clasps the teen’s face with both hands. “Look at me. Listen to the Professor, and stay put until I come get you. Okay?”

Allison’s forehead puckers, and her lower lip starts trembling. “But—”

“Is alright,” Nikolai interjects with a kind, reassuring smile. He gently ushers Allison towards the door, then down the hall before she can protest further.

A few doors down, Karen pokes her head out of the room where she and Frank have holed up. She frowns as she takes in the chaos. “What’s going on?”

“Mafia men with guns!” Wade chirps as he half-skips, half-jogs towards the mansion’s entryway. “Tell your boy to suit up!”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Neena adds as she runs after Wade.

Frank squeezes around Karen and kisses her temple before falling in line behind the two assassins.

You step to the side so Karen can run past you, then turn and press a hasty kiss against Piotr’s cheek. “Love you.”

He kisses your cheek in return, equally as brief. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

And then the two of you run towards the danger bearing down on your home.

***

In all the firefights you’ve been in, there’s always this moment of silence. A calm before the storm. A moment where everything goes still, while both sides wait for the other to make a move.

You duck behind a wall as the mafia gunmen continue hammering away at the front door, tucking yourself in a shadow. Your stomach tenses, breathing going quick and hard as your mind starts putting a plan together. Don’t want to risk collapsing part of the house by doing a pressure vacuum. Best option is to probably knock them to the ground so the others can jump them.

The door rattles. The wooden portal splits on one side, sending jagged splinters poking out into the air.

You slow your breathing, forcing yourself into a calm, focused state. Wait for them to get past the entryway so you can hit as many of them as possible.

In the back of the house, near the kitchen, you hear glass shatter.

They’re in. You clench your fists at your sides, watching as the front door slowly gives way. Three… two… one…

The door breaks open, swinging inwards as the first gunmen step into the foyer—

And then the door snaps off its hinges and slams into the men, taking them out like bowling pins.

Strike, a small, inane part of your brain giggles.

Shouts go up through the house. You can hear the sounds of rushed footsteps, shattering glass, and what sounds like people being bodyslammed through tables (and, given the type of people fighting for your side, it just might be that). Gunfire pierces the air –and is accompanied by the telltale, metallic plinks of the bullets ricocheting off your husband’s armor.

Angry screams emanate from the front step. Men barge in, firing down the hall, towards some unseen target (likely Alex or Nate, given the door trick).

You wait until as many men are piled into the foyer as possible, then send down a downdraft that blows out the windows on either side of the door.

The gunmen tumble to the floor, swearing in a mixture of English and Italian.

Nate, Wade, and Neena swoop in. They descend upon the mafia men like a pack of wolves, breaking bones, dislocating joints, and cracking skulls as they disarm –and, in some cases “un-alive”—the gunmen.

“It’s raining men!” Wade sings as he runs one of his katanas through the gut of one assailant. “Hallelujah! It’s raining men!” He ramps off a nearby wall, then t-bags another man before stabbing him through the temple. “Amen!”

You crouch, tracking the movement of the scuffle. You tense when you see a couple of the men jump Nathan, then charge towards the railing and dive over when a few more try to break past to run down the hallway. You flip in the air, land in the hallway ahead of them, and unleash a blast of wind right in their faces.

The mafia men fly out through the front door. They sail over half the front drive, then bounce off the gravel surface and roll several times before coming to a stop.

You let out a harsh breath, then dart down the hall towards the kitchen when you hear glass shattering and the sound of Frank bellowing angrily.

The kitchen and rec room are a mess. Glass shards from shattered windows coat the floor, glittering before being crushed underfoot. Doors are cracked from having people slammed into them. The rec room couch is overturned –and is sagging suspiciously on one side, hinting at a cracked frame. The entertainment system is shattered, with smoking bullet holes littering the TV, speakers, and media systems.

Frank has one of the guys pinned down over the sink. He’s snarling as he uses the lip of the sink to choke the guy out. There’s blood smeared his lips and chins, trailing back up to his chin.

Another gunman stalks in through the dining room, gun trained on Frank’s head.

You whip a blast of air at the second man, sending him sailing into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.

He drops to the ground, unconscious.

There’s some terrified shrieking –and then a gunman is punted up and out of the basement stairwell. He sails through the kitchen window headfirst, crumpling in a heap in the hedges outside.

Your husband storms up the staircase, teeth bared in an angry snarl. The waning daylight glints off his metal exterior, almost making him look like some sort of avenging angel. He stops short when he sees you, though; his irate expression vanishes, replaced by concern. “Ty v poryadke?”

You manage a smile and flash him a thumbs up—

And then a truck with a Gatling gun strapped to the roof rolls up to the back door.

“Get down!” Frank hollers before tackling you to the ground behind the kitchen island.

The room explodes into chaos. Bullets plow into the walls, sending up spurts of drywall dust in their wake. Wooden doorframes and floorboards crack, unleashing cascades of splinters in every direction. Glass shatters, raining down upon everything in its reach.

Frank positions himself over you, shielding you as fragmented bullets rain down upon your both. He cups your head with his hands, doing his best to protect you from the hellfire.

Over the din, you can just make out a loud, angry bellow –and then the sound of bullets hitting metal. Heavy, deliberate stomps make the floor shake.

The gunfire cuts off. A shriek pierces the air just before you hear what sounds like a car being tossed into a tree.

(As you’ll discover later, that’s precisely what you heard.)

Frank lifts his head, then carefully rolls off you. He crouches next to you and holds out a hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure you’ve got glass shards and splinters in your hair, but you’ve been worse. You take his hand, flinching when you hear the sound of more gunfire outside.

Frank peers over the lip of the island. “Reinforcements. At least five more cars headed our way.”

You suck in a breath. “Piotr—”

“Is holding his own for now,” Frank says.

“I’m gonna help him,” you rasp out. “Make sure everyone in the house that’s not on our side… stays down. And that we’ve still got all our people.”

Frank nods, then runs off towards the foyer.

You catch your breath, then creep towards the back door (better safe than sorry). You flatten yourself against the wall next to the doorway, then peer around the broken frame.

Piotr’s facing off against the new influx of cars. He’s got one hand on the hood of one Range Rover, arm extended out like he’s fending off a five-year-old. With his other hand, he flips another SUV over, causing the thing to land on its roof and putting the vehicle squarely out of commission.

Your stomach sinks when five more Range Rovers tear across the lawn, leaving deep, muddy tracks in their wake –and are followed by three more trucks with Gatling guns attached to the roofs. You sprint out the door, take a flying leap over Piotr, then send out a shockwave of air when you land on the ground.

A few of the cars fly backwards, rolling across the lawn like tumbleweeds. A majority of them, however, manage to stay upright or bump into each other and recover.

Your eyes widen when one of the Gatling gun operators aims directly at you. Shit.

Piotr leaps in front of you, whirling so his back is to the gun. He curls his body over yours, shielding you as gunfire rains down on you both.

You grit your teeth, grunting. You can feel the impact of the gunfire resonating through your husband’s metal body. Worry clutches at your heart when Piotr lets out sharp, ragged groans; he’s largely invulnerable in his armor, not to mention his sense of touch is severely dulled, but you know that with shit like this he’s still feeling some sort of pain –and there’s nothing you can do. You’re both pinned down, and as powerful as your shockwaves are, they’re not enough to stop or even skew the trajectory of a bullet—

Blue light washes over both of you. The sound of the gunfire wanes, replaced by warbling, pinging noises instead.

You peer around Piotr’s side to see Illyana standing between the two of you and the oncoming cars. She has her arms outstretched, palms facing the onslaught of adversaries. A shimmering, sky blue shield with various magical incantations floating through it surrounds all of you, stretching into the sky for at least forty feet.

Illyana grunts. She’s being shoved backwards from the force of impact from the bullets. Her feet are digging into the ground, leaving ruts as she tries to hold her stance. “We need new plan!”

“How about ‘stay alive?’” Piotr shouts back as he digs shrapnel out of the grooves on his arms.

Wade, Neena, Nate, and Frank come barreling out the back door, faces streaked with soot and blood. They dive for the ground, covering the backs of their heads and necks with their hands—

An explosion goes off inside the mansion. The shockwave shatters windows on both the first and second floor, blowing out window frames and trim.

Piotr covers your body with his once more. He cups your head with his hand, shielding you from the falling debris and the worst of the shockwave.

You cough and hack as smoke billows out the broken windows and doors. You do your best to make a vortex to suck the smoke away and send it up into the air. Your lungs burn, and your ears are ringing like a bell from all the gunfire and the explosion—

Four more gunmen emerge from the smoke pouring out the back door.

You snarl, then whip blasts of air at them, slamming them into the exterior walls of the house.

One of them goes down, while the other three are merely stunned.

Mikhail comes barreling out next. He lets out a guttural battle cry, then sucker punches one of the men in the back of the head before aiming a blast of rust colored energy at another’s gut.

The man screams as he sails into the air, arcing over the tree line and disappearing somewhere in the canopies.

The third man aims his gun at Mikhail –then staggers and drops to the ground when a beam of golden energy sears through his chest.

Alex storms out of the smoke with Artemis and your uncle trailing close behind her. She glares down the remaining gunmen and cars, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Blood is flecked across her face and spattered over her leather jacket. “House is clear!”

“Yeah, except now we’re about to be cleared out!” Wade hollers back. “As in, ‘all sales final, no returns, no exchanges!’”

“If we could make plan,” Illyana screams, voice strained with the effort of holding the shield, “would be very great!”

You look over to Alex –and see her eyes widen. You whirl towards the gunmen just in time to see one of them aim a rocket launcher at all of you. “Oh, for the love of—”

The first hit is technically deflected by Illyana’s shield, insomuch that the projectile and the shield both shatter the moment they meet. The force of the magic breaking sends out a shockwave of blue energy that flies backwards into all of you, knocking those who managed to get up back off their feet and stunning the rest of you.

You groan, head reeling. Your vision clears slowly, casting double images when you move too quickly. Shit.

You can make out Piotr, just next to you. He’s lying face down on the lawn, grunting and moving in slow, clumsy movements. He turns his head, brow furrowing when he sees you, and reaches out towards you.

You extend your hand to grab his –but he’s just out of your reach, no matter how far you strain. Your body feels heavy with fatigue and pain; everything inside you is screaming to get up, to fight, to keep moving because death is knocking right on your door, and you’ll be damned if this is how you go out—

Alex recovers first –no surprise there. She shoves herself to her feet, seething and growling like a feral beast. She hurls a blast of energy at one of the cars –and, from the sounds of the carnage, makes a direct hit. She storms towards the sea of mafia men like an avenging angel, hell bound on vengeance and blood.

Audible gasps go up from the amassed assassins.

You lift your head to see several of the gunmen backing away from the mansion and crossing themselves with shaking hands. You chalk it up to Alex being Alex, and make to drop your head back against the ground once more—

And then you see Allison standing in the ruined doorway.

She’s glaring down the gunmen with a viciousness that doesn’t suit the youthful roundness of her face. Her brows are knit together, and her mouth is twisted into an ugly scowl. Her eyes are glowing a brilliant shade of blue and give off little wisps of azure colored smoke. Her skin and hair are smoking as well, creating an aura around her body. Blood drips down from her nose and onto her shirt –which is stained with ash and soot. There are burn marks and indents on her wrists from where the repression cuff and the handcuffs used to be, respectively, but the restraints themselves are gone.

The ground begins to shake. Two patches of cerulean light appear underneath the grass, growing larger until they form swirling vortexes of magical energy. The ground begins to crumble at the edges of the portals, eroding away and growing wider until they make gaping tunnels that channel so deeply into the earth there’s no telling how far they truly go.

You recoil when the smell of sulfur and smoke blenches forth from the tunnels. Shit, did she hit a gas line? Fucking dammit, like this day can get any worse—

Echoing, blood-chilling howls emanate from the tunnels.

Your eyes widen –and then your heart starts working overtime when you see two, then four massive hellhounds (like the ones Allison summoned at the mall) crawl out of the tunnels.

Shrieks of terror sound from the gunmen. Several take off running, while others try to shoot the beasts.

The hounds snap and snarl at the gunmen, then charge at the group. Two of them go off after the runners, while the other two start lunging after the assassins like they’re rabbits.

You stare at the chaos in disbelief –and then a set of strong hands grab you underneath the arms.

“Get up.” You uncle tugs you to your feet, keeping you steady when you stumble. “You can’t be in the flow of traffic for this.”

Behind you, Allison is panting like she’s run a marathon. The aura of blue smoke is growing around her, trailing into the air and floating over the ground. Veins of light spread across her face and arms, glowing the same shade of vibrant blue as her eyes. Her breathing grows louder and more ragged, until she’s growling and shaking with each exhale— and then she screams.

Much like the first confrontation in the cemetery, all those months ago, the scream unleashes a shockwave of blue energy. This time, though, the shockwave is far from a decoy for escape. It washes over you, the X-Force, your uncle, the other Rasputins, Frank, and Artemis harmlessly enough –then slams into the mafia forces and vehicles like the wall of a hurricane.

Alex charges after the shockwave, carefully trailing behind it. She waits until it clears the first line of gunmen, then slams her fist into the face of the man closest to her. She blocks his attempt to strike her, then twists his arm –dislocating the shoulder, which makes him shriek in pain. Then, she wrenches his rifle away from him. She shoots him once in the center of his forehead, then turns the firearm on his fellow men and keeps firing.

Mikhail and Artemis go after the one surviving Gatling gun. Mikhail teleports onto the truck bed; he sweeps the back of one man’s jacket over his head, effectively blinding him, then kicks the other man present in the balls before shoving him over the side of the truck.

Artemis, on the other hand, stops a few feet away from the truck. She uses her telekinesis to rip the Gatling gun off its mount, then yanks the driver out through the windscreen –headfirst, no less—and dumps him on the lawn.

He doesn’t get back up.

“Come on,” your uncle says, pointing towards the further reaches of the property, where some of the gunmen are still trying to outrun the hellhounds. “Let’s give the dogs a helping hand.”

The two of you reach out, creating a wind current that slices through the air and slams into the stragglers.

The men careen into nearby hedges –and the hellhounds have it from there.

The familiar sonic blast of Nathan’s gun rips through the air. The shot slams into the last remaining SUV, rendering the vehicle to little more than glass shards and mangled metal.

The back lawn and gardens fall silent, save for the sounds of groans of pain and the hellhounds chewing on various gunmen.

Mikhail takes a fall off the back of the truck bed. He flops onto the ruined grass below, limbs splaying like a rag doll’s. “Alright. Is time for nap. Wake me… never.”

Illyana scoffs from where she’s sat next to a smoldering bush. She picks up a nearby stone, then chucks it at her eldest brother’s head (and hits her target, no less). “There is still clean up. Bezdel'nik.”

Mikhail flips her off, then groans as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“She’s right,” Alex lectures her eldest as she picks her way through the carnage. She nudges one body with the toe of her combat boot, then shoots him through the temple when he groans.

“Mama!” Piotr gapes at her, expression scandalized. He sputters, looking between her and the body at her feet.

“Chto? Vy khotite yego zhivym? Chtoby on mog dolozhit' svoim khozyayevam? Chtoby on mog obrushit' adskiy ogon' na etu shkolu i vsekh, kogo vy lyubite? No –no.” She holds up her index finger and stares sternly at Piotr when he tries to argue. “You do not leave enemies on your six o’clock, medvezhonok. First rule of survival.”

Piotr swallows hard, then says softly, “X-Men do not kill.”

Alex shrugs. “And I am not an X-Man.”

“We’ll handle it,” Nathan says. He holds his hand out for Alex’s rifle, nodding when she hands it to him after a moment’s hesitation.

(Wade and Frank are already working their way through the sea of dead and wounded. Frank’s traversing the chaos methodically, sticking to minimal shots to kill the survivors, while Wade’s alternating between singing “Dancing Queen” and getting post-mortem revenge.

“You shot my dick off inside!” Wade gasps as he peers down at a –slightly chewed on—corpse. “Extra bullets for you!” He then shoots the dead body several times before resuming his pitchy serenade.)

“What now?” Allison asks, staring out at the carnage with a slightly shocked expression.

“‘What now?’” Artemis repeats, laughing incredulously. She stomps towards Allison, pulling a pack of tissues out of her inner jacket pocket. “What the hell are you even doing out here? You were supposed to stay in the safe room—”

“They had cameras in there,” Allison says with a roll of her eyes, as if that justifies her decision to join the fracas. “You guys were getting your asses kicked.”

“We would’ve handled it.”

“Yeah, except you weren’t,” Allison fires back. She scrunches up her face when Artemis starts wiping the blood off her face, but otherwise takes the mothering without any complaint.

“It’s not your responsibility to deal with this shit,” Artemis says, voice and expression softening for a moment. She cleans up Allison’s face –then scowls. “And where the fuck are your cuffs? How did you even get out of them?”

Allison shrugs. “I used my powers to short the repression cuff out and ash it off.”

Illyana’s, Alex’s, and your uncle’s heads all snap around to stare at Allison.

“Are you kidding me?” Artemis hisses through clenched teeth. “You could’ve fucking killed yourself!”

“Or caused magical paradox that ripped hole in space-time continuum,” Illyana snaps.

“Ruptured blood vessels in your brain and caused an aneurysm, made the cuff deliver a lethal electrical shock, turned your magic against your own body and rendered yourself to ash,” your uncle continues, ticking off items on his fingers.

“Well, I didn’t do any of that!” Allison snarls, glaring at the others while Artemis keeps cleaning up her face. “And I made sure you losers won the fight –so fuck off!”

“Get her something to eat and drink,” Alex says. “Her blood sugar is bound to be low after pulling a stunt like that.”

Artemis glares at Alex and opens her mouth to respond—

Across the yard, Wade lets out a pained shriek. “My balls are not fetch toys! Bad Fido! Bad!”

Your eyes widen as you watch one of the hellhounds swing Wade around by his legs. You bite down on your lip, holding in a shock-induced laugh.

“Where’s this mutt’s off-switch –hey, hey! No!” Wade wriggles in the hellhound’s mouth, panicking as another beast bounds towards him. “My spine is not a tug toy! Can someone get rid of Fido and Rufus before they rip me in half!”

Allison snorts –then, before anyone can stop her, holds out her hand and flicks her wrist.

All four hellhounds melt back into the ground, disappearing to the depths of hell from whence they came.

Artemis swears under her breath, then catches the teen when she stumbles. She moves frantically, grabbing more tissues as blood starts pouring out of Allison’s nose once more. “You fucking idiot. Why the fuck did you do that? When are you going to fucking learn that you’re not invincible—”

Allison lets out a sharp, hoarse laugh –then passes out.

…

The wreckage inside the mansion is heartbreaking.

You stare at the ruined furniture, the scorched walls, the splintered doors, the ruined rec room and kitchen, and you have to wonder what was the fucking point?

Part of you understands that the mafia came prepared for war; they were going up against powerful mutants, so –naturally—they would want to be prepared. Having the strongest, most powerful weapons available increased their chances of success. Logically –from a strictly tactical standpoint—it makes sense.

Glass crunches under your shoes. You stare down at a litany of fallen picture frames, heart wrenching as you stare at the ruined pictures of graduates, students, and workers inside. We’re just a school. We work with kids. What was the point of trying to wipe us out?

Piotr ambles up behind you. He puts his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Cleaners and repairmen will be here in less than one hour.”

You feel numb. You place your hand on his arm. “That’s good.”

“We have back ups of pictures,” he murmurs. He kisses your cheek. “Insurance to cover replacing damaged items. We will be fine.”

“I know.” You sigh, leaning back against your husband’s chest. “We’re just a school. What… what was the point? Why try to wipe us out?”

“I do not know.” Piotr kisses your other cheek, hugging you reassuringly. “Perhaps they believed we knew information about ‘family business.’ Or that we were protecting Allison for some reason.”

“She’s just a kid,” you argue, voice breaking as your grief and exhaustion wells up and threatens to overtake you. “She’s only thirteen…”

Piotr says nothing, merely holds you closer.

You sigh—

And then a door slams. Hurried stomps echo down the hall. There’s creaking as a door opens again, followed by more footsteps and exasperated shouts.

Allison storms past you and Piotr, heading towards the kitchen. Her jaw is set, fists clenched at her sides.

You and Piotr look at each other –then follow after her, if only to be sure that nothing else is going to explode today.

She slams her hands down on the island counter –and, on the opposite side, Frank and Karen both flinch and stare at her warily.

Allison glares at Frank, jaw working convulsively. Her shoulders heave with each breath she takes. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, making the bags underneath seem darker and deeper by comparison. She trembles, expression flickering wildly between grief, white hot rage, and the neutral mask she’s trying so desperately to hold. She sucks in a breath that sounds more like a pained sob, then stares Frank down and spits out through gritted teeth, “You leave my people alone, I leave yours alone. Deal?”

Frank sighs. He nods, expression heavy with grief and eyes shining with remorse. “Yeah, kid. You got a deal.”

Allison clenches the edge of the island so hard her hands go white. She lets out a strangled, angry laugh as the tears finally start to fall. She ducks her head briefly, then glares back up at Frank. “I fucking hate you.”

Frank grimaces, but nods and says, “I know kid. It’s okay. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“That ain’t worth shit.”

“I know… believe me, I know.”

Artemis –who’d previously been watching at the kitchen threshold—steps forward and puts her arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

Allison clenches her teeth together, but still lets out a choked sob. She presses her lips together, looking around the room to try and regain her composure, to stop the flow of tears. She manages a deep breath, then takes one last look at Frank and snarls, “If I have to see your fucking face again, I’m ripping out your guts,” before storming out of the room.

Frank, to his credit, doesn’t respond (though you suspect he feels too guilty to even consider arguing). He merely hangs his head, expression that of a kicked dog.

Karen leans against him. She interlocks her fingers with his, murmuring in his ear (likely about how it isn’t his fault, and while it looks like that may technically be the case, you’re glad you don’t have to walk the spider’s silk of a line those facts lie upon).

What a shitshow.

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulders and gently leads you out of the kitchen. “Come on, myshka. Let’s go find spot to rest.”

…

Frank and Karen leave shortly after “making the deal” with Allison.

Allison and Artemis hang back for a bit to talk to Xavier. You don’t get all the gorey details but from what you can tell, it’s essentially an offer to help train Allison’s powers so she doesn’t hurt herself rolled in with a warning to keep her nose clean, stay on the straight and narrow, etcetera etcetera.

The sun’s just starting its descent from the sky before the two of them walk out of the meeting room.

Allison is wearing Artemis’s jacket and looks downright haggard.

Artemis has her arm around the teen and is gently guiding her while she talks to Xavier (though, perhaps the term “talk” is too generous, considering most of her responses are nods or terse, one-to-two word replies).

The rest of the Rasputin family, you, Piotr, and your uncle are all gathered in the foyer to make sure Allison and Artemis leave without too much trouble (or causing more trouble themselves).

Your uncle is sweating bullets and looks like he just shit his pants; he’s glancing between Alex and their daughter so fast it’s a miracle he hasn’t given himself a headache yet.

Now or never, you think, watching him with pursed lips. Tell your secrets before they’re told for you.

Alex kneels down next to Allison. “Are you okay?”

Allison’s gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “The fuck do you think?”

She quirks her mouth to the side. “Not all that good.” Alex ducks her head lower, trying to catch Allison’s gaze. “You remember what we talked about?”

Allison’s eyes narrow. She moves her gaze away from Alex. “Go to hell. I know what I know.”

“Sometimes… it’s better to not,” Alex says. She stares at Allison for a moment longer, then pats her shoulder before standing and walking away.

Artemis stares after Alex, expression morphing rapidly between fury and shock. She sputters for a moment before snapping, “What –that’s all you have to fucking say?”

Alex pauses, turning slightly so she can see Artemis. She raises one eyebrow, otherwise looking unbothered. “Is there something else I should be saying?”

“You don’t have anything to say to me?” Artemis presses, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing at all?”

“Is there something you want me to say to you?” Alex fires back, smirking slightly.

Artemis stares at Alex for a long, hard moment. She shakes her head, eyes welling up with tears, then turns her glare onto your uncle. “You really didn’t fucking tell her.”

“What?” Alex’s expression sobers, going wary as she looks between your uncle and Artemis. “What didn’t you—”

“This really isn’t the time or place—” Your uncle tries.

And here it goes.

“I’ve gotta do all the work, then,” Artemis snarls with a vicious smile. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense, considering I’m not your favorite,” she tacks on with an angry glare towards you. She storms towards Alex, one hand outstretched, with a cruel, angry smile stretched across her face. “Hey, mom. How’s it going?”

Alex’s eyes widen. She stares at Artemis, eyes tracking over the younger woman’s face. “What…”

“You fucking heard me.”

Illyana, Piotr, and Mikhail look at each other, then at Alex, then at Nikolai. They explode into confused Russian, gesturing between their parents, Artemis, and your uncle—

Realization dawns in Alex’s dark eyes. Her expression trembles, tears welling up in her eyes as she stares at Artemis’s face.

And then she uses her telekinesis to yank your uncle over and decks him.

[mermaidssonshipss]

ruin the friendship

another request! yeehaw! so i didn’t know if you wanted like an established relationship or not and i tend to not write established relationships (the pining and angst and hidden touches are always the best part once ur in a relationship it’s boring lmao) so i’m taking this and running with it but also putting my own twist on it but i really hope you enjoy it. it took me forever to write and i don’t know why i just. wanted it to... work? idk ANYWAYS! i hope you enjoy it yeehaw.

warnings: smut, obviously

pairings: rudy pankow x reader

word count: 3,082

At the age of 21, you were still a virgin, and the thought irritated you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had the chance, or that you’d never had a boyfriend, the truth was you were just scared. When you were 16, your older sister had come into your bedroom right after she lost her virginity, whining about how bad it hurt and how uncomfortable it was. She couldn’t even sit down. She’d went into detail and to be quite frank, you were traumatized. So, whenever the opportunity to have sex presented itself, you’d always back out, which lead to many of your breakups. You knew you were being silly about it, but you just never felt like the guys you were with would care enough to take your feelings into consideration and make sure you were comfortable. You’d dated nothing but assholes who only wanted you for your body, and finding out you were a virgin never turned them off, it only made you a challenge, and when they realized they weren’t going to concur you, they dropped you. 

Currently you were sat on Rudy’s couch, the both of you arguing over whether he should shave his mustache or not. You were highly against the hideous thing, arguing that it looked like he had a caterpillar above his lip, and he argued that the caterpillar was his friend. 

“Question. Have you kissed a girl since you’ve had that thing on your face? Honest answers only,” you pressed, though you knew the answer already. He opened his mouth to reply, but fell short, his back falling into the couch as he glared at you.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Yes.”

He huffed out at that, crossing his arms and turning his face back towards the TV. You got up, making your way into his bathroom and coming back out holding shaving cream and his razor.

“Shave it. Now.”

“You shave it if you want it gone so bad,” he replied, raising his eyebrows, challenging you.

“I literally will, Rudy. I’ve been shaving since I was like.. 13. I’m not afraid to use a razor,” you quipped back, and he threw his head back, letting out a groan before he pushed himself off the couch and snatched the items from you, making his way to the bathroom as he shot a glare at you over his shoulder.

You settled back down on the couch, grabbing your phone. A couple of texts from your best friend, Han, popped up, and your cheeks turned red as you read the contents.

Han: dude... did you see Jake’s tweets?

Han: he’s literally subtweeting the fuck out of you.

You quickly opened the twitter app on your phone and went to his account, your heart dropping. The past several tweets were about how he was tired of being led on by “prudes,” how his last ex (you) thought she was too good for anyone, and finally, he ended it with “never date a virgin, dudes. they’re the worst.” You were hurt, but you weren’t really surprised. He’d broken up with you two days ago after he’d tried to pressure you into having sex with him again, and you’d held your ground, saying you weren’t ready. He’d stormed out of your apartment, screaming that you were over.

A tear slipped down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away as Rudy entered the room, now sporting a clean-shaven face. You tossed your phone to the side as you looked up at him, throwing a smile on your face at the sight, but it was clear to him you were upset.

“What happened?” He asked, sitting down next to you and you shook your head, giving him a shrug.

“Nothing. Jake being a dick. It’s whatever.” You’d never really discussed your sex-life with Rudy. It wasn’t that you weren’t comfortable with him, to be honest you were more comfortable with him than you’d ever been with anyone, it just never came up. He’d assumed you weren’t a virgin due to your boyfriends, and you never told him why things actually ended.

“What’d he do?” He looked angry, and you smiled at him softy; it was cute how much he cared.

“Just some stupid tweets,” you replied, not expecting him to grab his phone and go onto Jake’s profile.

“What’s his fucking problem? Why is he calling you a prude? You’re not a virgin?” His tone was questioning, realizing that you two had never really talked about the topic.

“I am a virgin,” you responded simply, scrunching your nose up slightly as you looked at him. He was silent for a moment, his mouth opening into a silent O.

“Close your mouth, Pankow. You’ll eat a fly,” you laughed and he quickly snapped his mouth shut before placing his phone next to yours.

“If you don’t mind me asking... why?” he was genuinely curious, his eyes watching you closely. At this question, your cheeks heated up. You weren’t ashamed that you were a virgin, but you were definitely embarrassed about the why. Without letting yourself overthink it, you launched into the story about your sister and how scared it had left you.

“I know it’s stupid,” you groaned, your hands covering your heated cheeks, “but seriously... the way she talked about it... like I’m fully expecting it to feel like I’m being ripped in half and I’m not okay with that! If I could find the right guy maybe I’d think about it but everyone I date is a fucking asshole that only cares about getting themselves off, and not my precious vagina. Like I don’t need to be in love with the dude I just need to know he’s gonna take his time and not hurt me!” your cheeks were absolutely flaming at this point, your fingers running through your hair as you tugged on it. Rudy was laughing next to you as you rambled, his eyes closing as tears leaked down his cheeks from how hard he was laughing. “Stop laughing!” You shouted, but you yourself were also laughing.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, trying to calm down, “Like it’s not funny I get it but the way you talked about it is hilarious,” his laughing had calmed down now, and he sent you a sincere smile, “I’ve definitely heard it hurts for a girl though, but like you said, you just need to find someone who’s gonna be careful with you. Someone you trust and are comfortable with.”

“Rudy. Men suck. You’re the only man I trust with my life,” you dead panned, and he raised an eyebrow at you. He was quiet for a moment, and you could see the wheels turning in his head before he finally spoke up.

“Let me take your virginity.” He was confident as he spoke the words and you sucked in a breath, not expecting that to come out of his mouth.

“Rudy...”

“Hear me out,” he sat up straighter now, his entire body facing you, “We’ve been friends for how long? Like 10 years now, right? I know you better than anyone else, and vice-versa. You also just said you trust me, and are comfortable with me. I’ll admit I’ve never been with a virgin before and I don’t want you to think this is me trying to check something off a checklist or whatever, but I care about you and your feelings in general, so of course I’d care about that in bed. I’ll be gentle. I’ll listen to you and what you want and make sure you’re as comfortable as you possibly can be.”

You thought about it for a moment, weighing his words around the corners of your brain, before deciding that he had a point.

“Okay. But it absolutely cannot ruin our friendship.” He nodded his head in agreement, running his fingers through his hair as it flopped into his eyes.

“Absolutely. I don’t think anything can ruin our friendship at this point, anyway,” he was smiling softly at you as he spoke, and you knew you should feel nervous under his gaze, but you were comfortable. This was Rudy, your best friend, and you trusted him with the world.

The two of you were silent for a moment, letting the reality of the situation sink in, before Rudy stood up and held his hand out for you.

“If you’re sure you want this, I’m gonna wager losing your virginity in my comfy bed is much better than on my couch,” he smirked at you, and you rolled your eyes, but slipped your hand in his anyway. He tugged you up gently and lead the both of you to his bedroom, shutting the door gently after you had fully entered.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” his voice was a whisper as he stepped closer to you, his hand resting on your cheek softly as his other hand landed on your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. You simply nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment.

His lips were on yours moments later, all of the nerves in your body melting away as the two of you moved in-sync. For the first time in a very long time, you felt butterflies exploding in your stomach from a simple kiss, and you wound your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer to you. Your shirt was currently being bunched up under your ribs, his hands moving it up slowly as his fingertips trailed against your warm skin. He broke the kiss for only a moment, pulling your shirt off and tossing it onto the floor before his lips were attaching to yours once again, this time the kiss much more passionate. The two of you were stumbling slightly as he pushed you over to his bed, a few soft laughs being exchanged as he almost tripped over a pair of his sneakers.

“Remind me to clean up this mess,” he mumbled against your lips, and you could feel a smile on them as he hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he crawled onto the bed and gently placed you down, your head resting on his pillow.

His eyes were drinking you in as he hovered above you, and you silently thanked yourself for putting on your favorite red lace bra that morning as his pupils widened at the sight.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, and you weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear him, so you just smiled up at him before your fingers began fiddling with his shirt, tugging at it to signal you wanted it off. He was quick to pull it off and toss it across the room.

“Don’t forget to clean that up later,” you smirked, and he glared at you, but you could see he was holding in a smile.

“Can I?” his hand had slipped underneath you, his fingers resting on the clasp of your bra, waiting for your answer.

“Rudy, we’re about to have sex. Which I already agreed to. You’re allowed to undress me.” You could see his cheeks turn red as you spoke, but he rolled his eyes at you and quickly unclasped the bra before sliding the straps down your arms slowly, removing it fully. For a moment, you were tempted to cover yourself, but something about the way Rudy was looking down at you, his eyes scanning from your chest to your eyes, stopped you. 

Soon his lips were back on yours, both of you fighting for dominance as he tugged at your shorts, pulling them down your legs and kicking them off the bed. His hand wrapped around your thigh, pushing your legs apart as he trailed feather light touches up the soft skin, goosebumps erupting across your body. His lips were moving down your neck and to your chest now, softly sucking the skin as your fingers flew to his hair, tangling them into his blonde locks. 

Without warning, he slipped his large hand under the fabric of your panties and cupped your mound roughly, causing you to let out a sinful moan. You could feel him smirk against your chest as his thumb rubbed against your clit, drawing figure eights on the already throbbing bud. If you weren’t wet before, you definitely were now.

“Just gotta get you ready.” he whispered against your skin, his lips wrapping around your nipple as he let his teeth graze the sensitive peak, causing you to gasp and tug at his hair, which awarded you a groan from Rudy. You would gladly let him get you ready at any moment if it felt like this.

His finger teased your entrance, gathering up the wetness that pooled around the hole before slipping in easily, reaching places your own had never reached before. He was quick to slip a second finger in when he realized how wet you were, and he bit down on your nipple a bit too hard as he heard you moan out his name. It sounded sinful, and he wanted to hear you chant it for hours. As you writhed underneath him with each pump of his fingers, he was tempted to make you cum like this, intrigued to see you coming undone just from his fingers, but he didn’t want to overwhelm you, not this time, at least. When he could feel you clenching around his fingers, your whimpers growing louder, he pulled away, causing you to gasp out in displeasure.

“M’not done, princess,” he assured you, rolling next to you on the bed as he quickly pulled his pants and boxers down in one go. He was painfully hard, his cock slapping up against his abdomen the second it was free, and he let out a hiss as the cold air hit it. Quickly he threw his bedside table drawer open, feeling around it for a moment before his fingers finally latched onto a condom and he let out a sigh of relief. It’d been a while since he’d sex, to be honest, and he wasn’t sure if he had any condoms around. 

“Hurry up,” you breathed impatiently, your hand slipping down as you began to rub your own clit, and Rudy thought he was going to explode at the sight.

“Jesus christ,” Escaped from his clenched teeth, and he was quick to move himself back on top of you, ripping the condom package open with his teeth before rolling it down his length, a painful moan escaping at the friction. He slapped your hand away, positioning the head of his cock against your entrance for a moment before dragging it between your folds, collecting your wetness on the condom.

“Please,” you whimpered quietly, causing Rudy to bite his lip. He had pictured you underneath him many times, but he had never pictured you begging him to take your virginity. 

Slowly, he pushed inside of you, watching as your head pushed back into the pillow, your mouth falling open silently. It stung, but he was so gentle and so slow, giving you time to adjust as he very slowly pushed his entirety into you, finally bottoming out, you barely felt the discomfort. 

Your hands wrapped around his back, your fingernails digging into his tan skin, and you whispered quietly into his ear, giving him permission to move. His body was resting down on yours gently, his own arms between your body and the bed, clutching onto you as he began to move his hips, dragging his cock against your tight walls as slow as he could force himself to go. His continuous moans mixed with yours, both of your names rolling off one another's tongues in ecstasy. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his ass slightly as you pushed him deeper into you, your body consumed with pleasure. His lips found yours again, but this kiss felt different. His lips were rough against yours, but there was a passion behind it that he had been holding back, feelings that had been hidden for years pouring between the two of you as he finally decided to give in to them. 

He could tell you were close, your walls clenching around his cock, causing his hips to stutter at the feeling. His hand slipped between the two of you, finding the button that would let you release around him, and he began to circle his fingers around it quickly, the pressure of his fingers varying.

“Let go, pretty girl,” he whispered into your ear as he finally pulled his lips away from yours, soon resting them on your shoulder, his teeth sinking into the skin as you exploded around him, yelling his name out as your fingernails dug even deeper into his skin, leaving scratches behind. You’d gotten yourself off many times before, but it had never felt like this. You’d never felt this full, his cock deliciously scraping against your walls. He continued to pound into you, relishing in your whimpers before he too was coming undone into the condom, riding out his high until there was nothing left. 

His body collapsed onto the bed next to you, sweaty and sticking to the sheets as he pulled the condom off and tied it up, tossing it into the bin next to his bed. You were absolutely blissed out, a soft smile on your lips, and Rudy pushed himself onto his side, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him, his fingertips trailing up and down your side.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” his words were genuine as he looked down at you, his eyes full of adoration and what you think looked like love.

“I’m... wonderful,” you decided on, your own hand reaching up and tracing along his jawline, “It stung a bit in the beginning but after that it was... jesus I can’t believe I haven’t done that before,” you laughed, and Rudy laughed with you quietly, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on your lips for a moment before pulling away and resting his forehead on yours, his eyes staring into yours, “think it only felt that way because it was with you though,” you admitted, your voice small as you spoke, and Rudy once again pecked your lips. He had decided kissing you was one of his favorite activities. 

“I think... we just ruined the friendship,” he admitted, but he was smiling against your lips, and you knew what he meant.

“I think I agree.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #368

“whatever doesn’t kill you, is gonna leave a scar”

Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? My favorite shirt is the Day of the Dead design by Cloak, which is Markiplier's and jacksepticeye's clothing brand. Mom's friend/former co-worker also got me a Ninja Sex Party shirt because she knew I liked them. There are SO MANY YouTubers I wanna support by buying shirts. Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? Milk, 110%. Have you ever left a note in a library book? No. What time of day do you prefer to wash your hair? Morning. Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Yes. Have you ever taken a photograph with a celebrity? If so, did it turn out the way you wanted, or do you wish you could retake it? No. If you could move out of your home country permanently, would you? If so, where would you go? If it didn't mean being so very far from my family, I would love to move to Canada. Is there a celebrity that everyone else seems to love, but you find totally overrated? Why is it that you don’t like them? I legit don't know who's considered currently popular, and I especially don't know who they are as people. If you could volunteer for any charity, which one would you choose? Do you think it’s more important to help humans, or are animal and environmental charities equally important? Something relating to animals, and I think they're both equally important. Do you prefer holidays where you relax, or actually do things? I like a mix. Something chill, but you still do some stuff as a family. Do you think that after we die our spirit is still alive? Yes. Has anybody ever told you that you could be a model? Someone has mistaken me for a model in a picture I once took. It was one of the most flattering things I've ever heard, haha. Do you use different kinds of moisturizer for different body parts? ie. hand lotion for your hands, face cream for your face. Or do you just use one moisturizer for all body parts? Yes. Have you ever felt like you were someone’s rebound? No. Has anybody ever broken up with you over something really pathetic? What was it? Have you ever been dumped in a disrespectful way? (eg. through text, through a friend..) I have 100% been dumped in a very cowardly and disrespectful way; after dating Jason for nearly four years and being very serious, he broke up with me very abruptly over Facebook Messenger. His reason was valid, but at the same time, he NEVER talked to me about it. Apparently my depression was dragging him down. If he'd fucking communicated it, I would have explored new treatment options so goddamn fast. But no, he decided to snap his fingers and disappear. That's exactly WHY it was so traumatic, I think: it was so unexpected and sudden. Did you have a lot of role models as a kid? Animal enthusiasts like Steve Irwin and Jeff Corwin for sure. Do you feel like anyone looks up to you? Why or why not? God no. I'm just... not someone to aspire to be like. What was the last thing you found offensive? I'm not sure. Who is the nicest person you know? My mom. Do you feel safe in your country? I feel safe in NC, rather. Like I don't expect an atom bomb or terrorist attack or something in this obscure area. In the U.S.A. itself, sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. America is definitely not loved by every other country. Do you feel safe where you live? Not in this city, no. Have you been falsely diagnosed with something by a bad doctor? Yup. Did y'all know I apparently have ADHD? I know, shocking. Have you ever had a doctor refuse to treat you? No. Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): The first Silent Hill, probably. It took a lot of reading to get it. Do you know anyone who has been struck by lightning before? No. Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Does Stitch count? Or a Pokemon. Do you like marshmallows? Yes. What is your favorite flavor of candy cane? I really like the Jolly Rancher candy canes, I think they are? Have you ever fostered an animal? No. Do you still take hot showers when it’s hot out? Not as hot, but not cold except on very extreme occasions. When writing $ sign, do you draw one line through the S or two? Two. What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn’t have? I'm thankful that my parents were pretty open-minded to what pets I really wanted, but one I was never allowed to have was a ferret because of how messy and smelly they are. List three people you’ve had crushes on: Jason, Sara, and Sebastian were probably my biggest crushes. Have you ever thrown up from cramps? No, but god have I felt close. List three people you had a hard time forgiving. Jason, Colleen, and my dad. Who is the most spiritual person you know? Probably my sister's mother-in-law. Would you ever start a vlog? God no, I'd bore people to tears. Are your dreams coming true yet? I mean, I guess in some ways with my mental health. In my deepest depression, what I have now was a dream, even though current me is very discontent with it. Most of my dreams, though? No. Do you struggle with depression? I've been diagnosed with severe depression since 7th grade. Are you haunted by your past? A few things won't leave me alone. What medical conditions do you have? Just a lot. There are even more that are up for debate. I've talked about my diagnosed conditions enough. Do you use a Magic Bullet? No. What does your apron look like? I don’t have one. What are your favorite spicy foods? Hot Cheetos, Takis, hot wings, jalapeno pizza... Man, I love spicy food. Which do you like better: being an adult or being a kid? Being a kid. Were you excited to be a teenager on your thirteenth birthday? I had very mixed feelings. Did you feel insecure in high school? Shit, I still do. Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? What the FUCK is this question? No fucking shit I would be. Someone being suicidal in no way affects who they are as a person. Who was the biggest bully in high school? I don't think there really was one. What was your favorite class in high school? Art. Would you rather have a daughter or a son? If I wanted kids, a daughter. Have you ever written to an advice columnist? No. Have you ever had a doctor not believe what you told him? Maybe? I did however have an employee at the ER the first time I went try to pry out of me that my self-mutilation was for attention, and it wasn't until I insisted about a dozen times that it wasn't that he believed me. It's odd looking back that I got REALLY attached to him during that stay, knowing now that it was absolutely horrible and extremely unhelpful for him to do that. If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? I would absolutely refuse to have a male one. Do you like Lisa Frank? Yeah, like can you talk about aesthetic. What gives you nightmares? Boy, I wish I could tell you, given how much I have them. Were you ever hospitalized as a child? No. Did you get senior pictures taken? No. What color is your bicycle? I don’t have one. Did you ever have to take home a fake baby in health class? No, thank fuck. Would you rather wear ivory or white on your wedding day? What color will your bridesmaids wear? I'd rather wear black. I think red will be the bridesmaids' color. Would you rather have a swimming pool or trampoline? I want a swimming pool so damn badly so I could exercise my legs without worrying about sweating, and I can stop and rest whenever I want, unlike going walking or something. I don't think my knees could handle a trampoline. Do you think babies are cute? Some, sure. But a lot, not really. Do you dream about the future a lot? Yeah. Do you think about your past a lot? Way too frequently. How good are you at living in the moment? I'm trying to get better at it. Have you ever questioned God’s existence? Yeah. Vanilla frosting or chocolate? Chocolate. What’s your favorite foreign cuisine? I've actually been exploring Italian pasta lately. I'm not a big fan of foreign food that I've tried, though. Have you ever moved to another state? No. Did you do anything productive today? No. .-. Can you say the alphabet backwards? No, actually. Do you like flowers? Of course; does anyone not? Have you ever thought you were gonna die? I didn't care if I did or didn't. What kind of mood are you in today? I was honestly really depressed through most of it. Just health stuff was really getting to me. I just woke up from what was honestly like a four-hour nap and I feel all right, I guess. What are you craving right now? I REALLY want Domino's jalapeno pizza. Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance? No. What is worse, physical or emotional pain? Definitely emotional. Have you ever walked in on somebody doing something… questionable? When Dad still lived with us, I think he might have been watching... you know... on TV when I came into my parents' room for something. Idk for sure though. I didn't ask, and I don't want to know. If you were to make videos on YouTube, what would they be of? Oh god, idk. I don't want to make any. What I'd have most fun with would be reptile education, but I 1.) have literally one snake, 2.) am not extremely educated on a good number of them and don't want to be misleading, and 3.) I would run outta content fast. So, leave it to Snake Discovery, haha. Posting pictures of yourself in a bathing suit on the internet - ok or not? Yes, it's okay????? If you're talking about me personally though, you won't see me dead in a bathing suit picture. Do you typically laugh when somebody falls down? No, I gasp and see if they're okay. What is the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched? Paranormal Entity. The ending is... a lot. Your opinion of Katy Perry, please? I like a couple of her songs. If you could say anything to your Mom right now… what would it be? "Thank you for absolutely everything."

[loving-jack-kelly]

i think its so weird how people are highkey mean to matt?? like in the fandom??? people will deadass see matt isolating himself due to self hatred and be like "what a bitch". like both matt and frank pretended to be dead and then showed back up into peoples (specifically karens) lives but people will shit talk matt for it and say shit like "frank would never do that to karen" like frank didnt do the exact same thing and matt was in a fucking coma for half the time he was gone!! and he just survived what was basically a suicide attempt!! jesus christ!!

I think the tone we all need to take with Matt is the same as Foggy snapping “You’re my best friend, asshole!” like yeah. he can be an asshole. he’s done some shitty things to his friends, he’s a nightmare to try and help because he really hates accepting help or love of any kind, and if you take what he says at face value, he comes off as a total dick.

but like....there’s so much more to him than face value? like not only is he one incredibly traumatized individual like the things he went through between the ages of nine and like fifteen alone explain so much about him but also. how many people has he felt die? how many people does he hear in pain every second of every day? how many times has he had it hammered into him, through experience or shitty people around him, that when he shows up, so does suffering. that he brings horrible things into the lives of anybody he lets get close.

when he pushes people away, it isn't because he thinks he’s some saint who works best alone. like he isn’t Mr. incredible up in here saying “I work alone” because of pride or whatever, he knows that what he’s doing is dangerous, and the more people know the worse it gets for them. 

and like....he didn’t choose a lot of his life, you know? he didn’t choose to be able to hear every bit of suffering in hell’s kitchen at all times. he didn’t choose to lose his dad, he didn’t choose to be trained (and indoctrinated) by Stick, he’s just had shitty things happen to him all the time, and that’s gonna leave a mark on him.

so like...yeah. hold him accountable. he owes people in his life an apology, he needs to get better at healthy relationships, but the thing is, he knows it? he doesn't expect them to just accept it and move on without addressing it. he lets Foggy walk away because he knows it’s what’s best for them at the time. he lets Karen be mad at him, he lets her make the choice to not have him in her life when she needs that, because he knows that what he did was shitty. he knows he broke their trust, and he doesn’t expect them to just be fine with him after they find out. like it’s not like he’s some manipulative asshole who’s intentionally causing them pain or trying to excuse everything he’s done, he’s well aware that he’s hurt them and that they deserve to be able to say “no, I’m done, this has to stop.” he lets them do that, because he hates himself as much as he thinks they do. more than they actually do, in fact, because they can at least see the good in him and all he sees is something twisted and evil and uncontrollable that he can barely control.

and yeah! he was unconscious for weeks, and then not only was he so crazy depressed because he’d just lost. everything. Elektra for the second time, and as far as he knows when he wakes up he’s lost his hearing in one ear and practically in the other, which is debilitating because that’s how he navigates his world, and his entire purpose was Daredevil and trying to make a difference and how is he supposed to do that when he can’t walk twenty feet without tripping and falling? and how is he supposed to do anything good when he’s realized he’ll never be content just being Matt Murdock the Lawyer because he needs to be doing something more and yet in the same moment he also thinks that he’ll never get back on his feet well enough to do anything at all. and he’s suicidal, which is terrifying both because he’s never felt this terrible before and because he barely has the tools to comprehend what he’s feeling, and just when he’s starting to feel like maybe, maybe he’s getting there and even if the comfort isn’t enough to make him feel better, at least thinking that he might get Daredevil back is something, that’s when he finds out Fisk is out and that means that so much of what he’s worked for, suffered for, is being undone.

he’s been through so, so much, and every layer of him is some kind of scar, some lingering fear or trauma from something he has no control over, and calling him an asshole without taking any of that into account is just straight up ignoring a pretty big chunk of his character. he doesn’t pretend to be some infallible Jesus figure who’s the savior of hell’s kitchen and can do no wrong. if he did, he would be a total asshole and a much less interesting and likable character, but he doesn’t. he thinks he’s a terrible man trying his best to do something good with what he has, and he hates that he hurts the people he cares about and he hates that he doesn’t ever feel good enough and he hates that he can’t seem to catch a break and he hates himself. he really does hate himself for everything he’s become, because he can’t see the good he’s doing.

also like....Karen and Foggy call him on it constantly. all the time. they don’t let Matt get away with being an asshole or let him use anything as an excuse, you know? they help him, and they love him and try to be there for him and support him, but they also tell him when he’s being an asshole. when he’s hurting them. when he needs to do better. they don’t let him get away with his own self-destructive tendencies and pretend the problems aren’t there, they point them out. they yell at him. they tell him how he’s hurt them with his actions, and not just the suffering he thinks he drags with him wherever he goes. it isn’t like he’s never held accountable by his friends. they don’t enable him, and the narrative really doesn’t ever try to make it seem like “oh foggy is such a terrible person for walking out on Matt” it’s very clear that they both needed to take a step back to heal that relationship, and when they come back together in Defenders and then again in the latter half of season three, it’s obvious that taking some time apart has only let them both realize how much they need each other, and their relationship becomes much healthier. Matt tells Foggy things, Foggy trusts Matt more, and they’re able to work together all the more effectively because of it, and that positive shift wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t been allowed to fight. if Foggy hadn’t been allowed to get angry and need to take time to process away from Matt.

in conclusion yeah, Matt’s an asshole, but who isn’t? especially somebody who’s been through as much as Matt has without ever really having a healthy outlet or a good way to process any of it, because everything has been passed through this filter he has of him being something horrible and evil and irredeemable. like he shouldn’t just be let off the hook for hurting people, but he also isn’t just an asshole for the sake of being an asshole. he’s not some superhero who thinks he’s too good for everyone, so he doesn’t think twice about pushing them away or how his actions will hurt them, he’s pretty much the exact opposite.

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket SE2, ep12, part2

The way this ep was handled make it stands alone outside of furuba’s world. It can very well be an anime film. We don’t even need to know why the main couple broke up or anything abt the curse lore. It’s a story abt a couple who could’ve been the happiest, but parted ways despite loving each other still. A story about a woman ,one-sidedly, falling deeply in love with a taken man despite wishing the couple all the happiness. Mayu was right “ ppl don’t fall in love to be sad & lonely” but everybody in this ep was sad & lonely. Including shigure. 

-Standing Still while everybody moves on:

Kana moved on & married. Yet, Hatori stood still, time has passed, his heart healed, but his mind didn’t. He condemned himself into life long confinement next to his abuser, like a robot, always within Akito’s reach, always on call. One day he’s out picking up a book, didn’t even intend to!, then he gets scolded for daring to go outside his virtual cage. First time he went to take the book, he was tricked by Shigure, but the second time he went on his own volition. He wanted an excuse to escape. Mayu, too, stood still as time passed, still feeling guilty abt loving hatori. still held by the past. She’s too aware that her emotions were once one-sided that she fears taking a step forward.

-Shigure’s “Steal Him!!!” advice:

“steal him” as if hatori is a helpless toy. This is very interesting insight into shigure’s mentality:

(a) Maybe Shigure only said that to urge Mayu to do sth for herself. he’s playing the role of the author putting characters in situations & watching how they react & how things unfold. It also shows a kind of sickening delight he has upon watching dramatic situations. Then..don’t we all love drama?.but i dare hope that we don’t instigate it.

(b) Maybe Shigure really wants Mayu to “steal” hatori cuz that’s how he wants to do with Akito. He wants to steal her from Kureno. By stealing he means play the tricks of seducing & manipulating the situations to his/her favor. This puts a whole perspective into the already know fact of shigure not justifying his actions of manipulating others for his gain. He loves Akito & for the name of love, he shall do what he needs to do. Including using others. If shigure wants sth, he reaches out & takes it. If he can’t, he’ll play dirty until he can. He truly wanted Mayu to follow his footsteps to gain hatori. Maybe he wants to feel that he’s not the only one tainted by loving someone who doesn’t love them back equally. Cuz afterall Mayu is his shoes now. I can’t confirm if Akito doesn’t love/never loved/stopped loving Shigure romantically, it is not shown yet. but what is shown is that Shigure’s world orbits around Akito. He’s not affected by the curse, or traumatized, but he is so in love with her & will be damned if he won’t crush the entire sohma system so she can be his. I duno how I feel abt his dedication tho. I love how morally grey it is. i duno how much toxicity is weaven into their relationship. Akito’s perspective is needed before I could make an opinion. But I’ll say this, he’s scary when he doesn’t get what he wants & he’s scarier when he feels no guilt over stomping over others to reach his goal. if Mayu, actually “stole” hatori, then she’ll have to stomp all over a kind unsuspected friend whose fault is that she’s in the way. I’m glad Mayu isn’t didn’t steep low in the name of love.

-Shigure’s “lets date” suggestion:

I love this suggestion!!! Mayu & shigure both established that they have no romantic feelings to each other. Then why date? cuz they’re both damn lonely! he’s also bored but I believe he’s masking his loneliness as well. We all grew up believing I’ll crush on someone, get asked out, date, fall in love & that’s how things always happen. NO. Often times (for me at least), everybody around me follows the above sequence & i find myself behind, so alone that I so much yearn for a romantic hand touch. Often times You find yourself accepting blind dates, coffee invitations from ppl you have no feelings for..cuz you’re so lonely & waiting for the spark between you two that means you’ve crossed into sth that could blossom romantically. Personally, This is one of the most relatable feelings in furuba. They date..but the spark never comes. He’s cold..so cold that he might as well be not there. Kana/hatori walk outside, talk together, she only needs two finger faintly touching his sleeve to get his full attention. Mayu/shigure stay inside, each is absorbed individually, he’s in a book, she’s watching her crush. she tries for his attention, he doesn’t even raise his head from his book. Mayu got the lesson: “I won’t date someone cuz I feel lonely anymore. It’ll only make me lonelier”.

-Mayu’s wish vs Mayu’s wish:

Mayu’s wish that Kana/hatori be happy is interesting. It isn’t only cuz she wants her dear friend to be happy. She genuinely does. But Mayu’s wish has a tragic layer to it. She wants them to be happy to prove to herself that she has no chance. that even if she took shigure’s advice & tried to break them, she can’t. That no matter how she tried she can’t have him. cuz she’s not kana. No way, he’ll leave kana & choose her. So, please you two be happy, so happy & prove me right for staying away, prove me wrong for daring to wish for him. But her wish fails. Their love ends. It breaks Mayu so much, that she doesn’t care for the reason, the outcome of them breaking up is the most tragic thing. She leaves. Kana heals. Kana wishes the most heartbreaking wish of all. “I wish you end up with hatori, mayu, he suits you” oh poor Mayu’s heart. how devastating it is to hear that?! the woman who went thro a horrible nervous breakdown cuz she loves hatori so much, now wishes him to be with her best friend. The writer is ruthless. I was as tearful as Mayu in that scene.

-The Anime’s Trope of “Interfering for a friend”: (done right!)

When a precious friend/loved one is in a state of deep depression, normally family/friends try to interfere to help. often ppl are too lost to help themselves. But whoever was on that state of depression or have a loved one in that state knows that it’s nothing like the movies/dramas make it out to be. It is not “hey friend, do this & that & you’ll be happy”. It is not “hey friend, check into this hospital & be healed”. It is not “hey friend, take this punch or that kick & this slap, be healed by the magic of healing violence” NO. It is nothing at all like all these shitty climax in films & drama. It’s a process that requires time, patience & above all honesty & frankness. Hatori is going thro depression, but time has done its duty of distancing him frm the core issue (kana), next both Shigure/Ayame talked to him in SE01, lake ep, to let him know that they’re frustrated abt his situation, trying to let him see hope. Then shigure from afar creates an opportunity for hatori. if hatori chooses to grap on, its his call. No force. No violence, No cheap thrills. This is by far my fave aspect abt this ep. The logical & realistic approach to helping someone taking into consideration the reality of his depression & his character. You rally forget this is an anime!!!! I’ve never seen this before! I love to so much! The amount of respect this author has for the characters’ mental state & the logical development of such situation in real life is brilliant!! You don’t watch furuba for redundant anime tropes or drama thrills. you watch traumatized characters handled with realistic development & logical progression. Hatori wasn’t healed simply cuz he asked Mayu out. He’s walking towards healing by accepting shigure’s help. by actually seizing the opportunity his friend offered him. it is just the start for him but we saw glimpses from the future. He made it!

Side Notes:

Shigure’s “ he liked you well enough” to Mayu was a true evaluation of Hatori’s feelings at that time. Hatori was in love with Kana. He also liked Mayu cuz kana made sure to gush abt her. Shigure’s words are meant to encourage Mayu that you’re not a stranger to hatori, you can build sth with him. starts from the friends base & see how things go from that.

I like that they flat out showed us Mayu/hatori’s future together as a couple without ambiguity. she’s in her short hair signalling change. Their story isn’t tied by the plot, or anybody. It can be free. It can be happy.

I’m sorry but Mayu cutting her hair is a crime! T_T. That magnificent hair!! All the cute her do’s. It’s okay..I’ll be happy once it’s yuki’s turn to cut his Akito’s-look-alike hair. He deserve it!

I love how the writer didn’t put women against each other!! (a)Mayu didn’t sell her friendship for a man who didn’t love her. (b)kana wasn’t insecure in her relationship with hatori that she was eying her female friend all the time. (c)Kagura, before realizing her one-sided love, didn’t do anything to tohru despite seeing how much kyo is falling for her!! Kyo falling in love with tohru isn’t tohru’s fault & kagura didn’t hate her for it! (d)tohru herself, despite seeing how toxic kagura’s affection was, didn’t actively seek to break them in order to “save” kyo ! that’s not her duty. Kyo can save himself & kagura can realize her mistake. It is sth they need to do for themselves!! brilliant & unique approach in handling woman’s relationship! LOVE IT!

[yuvon-writes-letters]

[The first words of the letter are a bit chaotic and written in a yet unknown scripture]

Hello Yuvon, Jake, Rainer...I cannot really comprehend all of your names.

My name is Maximilian Collins, but just call me Max please. From what I was told that's what you already know me under.

I am Lig. Sorry. I remembered she told me that you just know her nickname. I am Liskas cousin.

I would really like and try say something, but I don't think I would get out anything with sense in the moment.

Long story short: The little fox is doing okay I guess. At least when I take in accountant what happened to her. I mean, she is hunted by a murderer? And he almost would have gotten to her...And only thanks to Jake she was safer again.

Damn it. Why didn't she tell me? Maybe I shouldn't have stolen

So yeah, we arrived five days ago in our first location and currently are in a small German town. (Do you even know we're originally born in Germany? That really helps us) Just away from home, you know? Though, she did not talk to me at all until today. She broke down in front of me when a letter struck Lis directly in her face..In front of me. In some kind of golden light.

She told me many things and if I hadn't seen the letters appear I would not have believed it.

Rainer, Yuvon, your last two letters appeared as one, so I guess that's because Liska should read both all of them? But it doesn't matter, I want to thank you. She really started smiling again. Even though..After the letter where you said that you have some responsibility about her situation she started rambling. Many feelings she kept hidden.

She didn't talk much after that and I don't know when she will answer again (weird enough is I am not angry at you, since I am too protective of her at other times when I am not stealing her work). But at least she talked a bit!

And..if you read this little fox, please skip. You already have enough things to embarass me. Just read again after the red part.

Oh and one more thing..she seemed upset after 'Jake' didn't answer her on her phone. Like, really upset.

Is there something more I should know? Like...Are they in a weird relationship or something?

Lis only told me about the man without a face thing and not really her relationships. And that they didn't have so much contact in the moment (even though I don't know why). Only the bastard wanted to get to her.

And I know that you are from a parallel universe with a sick entity? I don't think I know everything, just parts, but that's enough for me.

Just, why is she so upset? She wasn't when she talked about the others don't answer momentarily.

MAX

Ps. Uh, damn..She just started laughing as if she was crazy. And insulting someone 'You damn golden bastard'. Oh and I think I heard a 'It worked!!'

[The writing is really known again, even though a bit shaky in the beginning]

Oh shit, Max you idiot. Can't even check if your letter sent...

It's been a day since the events Max is talking about took place. So, six days since you last heard from me I believe? Maybe seven. I don't know.

I...I don't know what I believe to reach with writing again, but it makes me so damn happy. I am sorry I didn't write anyone of you, it was just so difficult to even get up and not sit in bed all day. But, I can't stay like this. And Goldie was completely right. [Lis' writing becomes like when she did the word association] Always. But that's why he is the safe one.

[It becomes normal again, the first words are smeared a bit]

I mean, Max told you that the letters hit me in my face, right?

Jake was in stasis again, as long as I did not want to contact him. That is the reason he did not write you more letters. I want to see more of his handwr

He isn't anymore though and I am supposed to tell you his thanks for getting me out of my...catatonic state.

So yeah, I don't know what to say anymore...I really hope you are doing better Yuvon and Jake and that you are also fine, Rainer.

And Jessica, if you still read this.

Liska🐾🔥

Max, (and Lis! Didn't see your part at first :) )

I'm glad Lis is okay. It's been awhile since she wrote, and I was getting really concerned about her, because of the whole, well, I'm sure you can guess.

I didn't know you were from Germany, but it does make sense, in hindsight. Probably it's more confusing that I'm from America, actually, given where Duskw

In her face? XD I don't know exactly how much Lis told you and it's not my place to tell you her secrets, but ffs Goldie XD

I'm glad Rai and I could get Lis to smile. I was hoping I could lighten our moods a bit, given all the recent... let's call it drama that went down. It's been stressful, lately, we all needed some levity.

I'm glad you're not angry at me, though you do have the right to be.

Lis and Jake, if you're reading, skip to the |||.

Jake is very important to Lis, and I mean VERY. Visa versa, too. Him not answering her calls is fairly concerning. Lis isn't the only one who's a target of Things, after all.

Something very, very bad happened recently. To avoid traumatizing you, I won't go into detail, but the upshot is that my version of Jake and I were very seriously hurt and someone tricked Lis into blaming herself for it, despite it not being her fault at all.

|||

Oh! Lis! Hi! :)

Don't worry about not writing, I know how that goes :/

...Lis, do you get copies of your own letters? I know we get copies of ours. If you do, you might want to look over the letter/section of letter you sent me again. Third paragraph, last two sentences. If something looks odd about it,

Actually, let me just send you it.

(Glued on with sap are the sentences Yuvon was talking about. Specifically, the lines "Always. But that's why he is the safe one.")

Yeah, Max told us XD I guess Goldie REALLY wanted you to read the letters. I'm getting flashbacks to Jake blackmailing Rai into telling us their issues.

Huh. That... both does and doesn't make sense. Why would you not wanting to talk to him put Jake in stasis again...? Goldie wouldn't do that, I think. Is your stasis tied to you, somehow? Or is that other entity messing with you?

...Was my stasis tied to me?

No. No, that doesn't really make sense, I think. Based on what I've seen, at least. I'll keep it in mind as a possibility, though.

I'm glad he's out of the stasis, at least. And you're welcome, Jake :) Lis matters to me too, so of course I would.

That's all I have to say for now, so

(There's a section of the letter that's been ripped out of the center, as if Yuvon poked her pen through the letter and then ripped out a line or two of writing. The paper around the tear is unnaturally white, just this side of eye-searing, and you can see the very edges of letters written in ink so dark it seems to suck in the light around it. There is absolutely no way to ever know what the entity said.)

Don't. You. Dare. Say that to Lis.

Try that again, and I don't care how powerful you are. I will find out what your other weaknesses are, and I will exploit them. With a little luck, I'll break your neck myself. Or poison you to death. If you know enough about my writing to plagiarize it, you know I'm not bluffing when it comes to the poison.

Would you prefer strychnine, entity, or something more symbolic? You do seem to love your symbolism.

That being said. Bye for now, Lis :)

—Yuvon

Hello, Lis and Max.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Max. I am glad that Lis is doing better.

...When did (blacked out) Yuvon say she thought she was responsible for Lis's state of mind?

I am afraid I do not have many more answers than what Yuvon offered, Max, at least for the moment. My apologies.

I am glad you are feeling better, Lis :)

I am also glad your Jake is no longer in stasis, though I second Yuvon's concerns and curiosity as to why. Also, please tell him that he is welcome.

I admit that I am not entirely sure what the entity said to provoke such a dramatic reaction from Yuvon, but I suspect I am better off not knowing. I am somewhat worried that her words may provoke a reaction, but she seems rather confident that the entity will not react. Given her recent... intuitions, about the entity, I am inclined to believe her.

I do worry about her, though. Neither of us know why she can suddenly know all these things, and even the entity does not seem to know, either. It is disturbing, to be frank.

Regardless. I have little more to say, for the moment. Do be safe, Lis.

Sincerely,

Jake

(The letter tucks itself into the paper clip with the others.)

[youngster-monster]

The color of the wheat fields

Out of all the books her mother used to read her, The Little Prince had always been Karen's favorite. Adventure called to her in the way it called to every child; she drew maps of the world, clumsy and colored, on which was carefully traced the itinerary from Vermont to The Desert — because surely there could only be one of them in the world.

She used to dream about the desert, about foxes and snakes and roses on faraway stars. She sat in her cardboard boxes-plane, with a wool hat and swimming goggles, pretending to be both a space princess and the daring pilot lost in the wild. She learned to draw the best sheep anyone had ever seen, and then roses and snakes and foxes too, so the sheep wouldn't be all alone.

She had grown up, eventually, and the cardboard plane and childish drawings were forgotten in the attic with all the rest of her (and, eventually, Kevin's) childhood. Teenagers don't have time for toys or play-pretend, college students even less so.

But the book had kept its place in her bookshelf, pages creased from being dogeared so many times, cover falling out and being stitched back on again. It was always the first book she put up after each move, and often the first one she read during her first night in a new place, the best cure to the bittersweet taste of homesickness. She carried it with her everywhere — in her suitcase during family holidays, to the hospital waiting room that one time Mary, her college roommate, broke her ankle and had to be driven to the ER, in her bag when she went to work. It was always there, in case she needed it.

Adulthood had yet to prove to be more than a succession of increasingly painful headaches, but it had yet to steal the fun from this book. If anything else it had enhanced it; Saint-Exupéry's personal brand of philosophy had meant much to her, in many different ways, for as long as she had known enough about the alphabet to decipher the story all by herself.

Wesley, on the other hand… Wesley had changed that.

It felt wrong to handle the book, which was nothing if not a tale of kindness in the face of life's everyday cruelty, with hands still heavy with the weight of a gun. She felt as if there was still dried blood stuck under her nails, despite the fact that his blood never even brushed the touch of her fingers, and she feared the marks she would leave on the pages. The bloody fingerprints of a murderer. Innocence had died with a full clip discharged in a monster's chest — innocence had died with blood not her own on her clothes and the empty-eyed stare of a dead body. This book, this story, was all there was left of it. She refused to be the one to taint it with the smell of gunpowder, the darkness of death which clung to her like a too-large coat.

She did not regret it. She only wished there had been another way out — a way to keep her hands clean and herself safe. A way that would not have disappointed small Karen quite so much.

So The Little Prince had been dropped at the bottom of a box, covered by the clothes she had worn that day, and hidden under her bed. Out of sight, out of mind — out of reach.

But then Frank Castle happened. Bloody, bruised, battered Frank, with his voice like a thunderstorm heard from far away, rumbling in his chest and unable to quite escape it.

She had grown fond of him, a man so dangerous yet so close to his breaking point, a glass sculpture balanced at the edge of a tall shelf. She had traded curiosity for understanding, had lost fear along the way and replaced it by an odd sort of care for him.

Had found it again, hidden like a forgotten bill between the pages of an old book, folded in a tight corner behind her ribs, when he had looked up at her — a wounded man at his feet, more fitting in that tableau than ever before — and told her he was already dead. Fear felt like an old, unwelcome friend, or an ember stuck in her throat, fire eating at her flesh and slowly smothering her with the smoke.

Fear had not come alone.

At first, yes, she had been scared. For the colonel, who was an asshole but who deserved justice all the same. For her. For him. For the path he was threading on, combat boots leaving bloody footprints in his tracks.

And then she had been angry, because how dare he makes her care? Her heart was wounded enough as it was, a mass of scar tissue and bruised and fresh paper cuts that still, stubbornly, refused to break. She didn't need his trauma, his blood lust, didn't need him to come by and throw a few glass shards in the mix.

But, in the end, all she had been left with was sadness. A sort of grief, perhaps, for the man he used to be, the man he could have been. A man she wanted to keep, to hold on to with two hands and never let go, until she realized she never had him to begin with.

Sadness, for Karen Page, had one simple cure, held between the pages of a downright antique hardcover edition of The Little Prince.

For the first time in months, in the first grey light of an insomnia-induced early morning, Karen rummaged through the cardboard box under her bed and dug out an old battered book. It had the worn corners and half-faded illustrations of a well-loved story carried from childhood to adulthood whole by sheer affection for it — and a few haphazard patch jobs. Her name was still written on the first blank page in red crayon; her favorite passages still underlined in pencil, careful straight lines under words she could still quote by heart.

A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.

She wondered, for a moment, if a murderer remained such after a foolish wannabe reporter had observed him and seen a good man in his place.

The Little Prince had always been her favorite way to deal with emotional turmoil. Nothing seemed to matter quite as much after reading the quest of a young boy through space and back again, and once she turned the last page, she found herself a little more settled, a little less likely to have a full blown panic attack.

It didn't mean she forgave Frank. That wasn't something she envisaged herself doing anytime soon, if ever. But she could accept his decision — it had, after all, basically nothing to do with her. What was she to him but a bait, an obstacle on his warpath? Not much, that was what. And she found that she was okay with that.

Karen, thrill-seeker extraordinaire, had been lost to student debts and soul-sucking jobs a long time ago. Her recent come back from the grave to haunt Karen, responsible if mildly traumatized adult, had only served to remind her that this was not the life for her.

She would gladly leave vigilante-chasing to bolder, braver people. She was quite fine as she was, not being shot and never seeing the blank hospital walls from the point of view of a patient.

Unfortunately it seemed that, even when Karen did not look for danger, danger still, against all odds, looked for Karen.

Fear came in many flavors, so to speak. It came as a burn, an all-consuming wildfire trapped behind wide, wild eyes; the survival instinct inherent to everyone who was not a vigilante. It came as the hot-blooded rush of adrenaline when your mind, thrown into its most basic fight-or-flight response, decided offense was the best defense, bloody knuckles and copper sharp on your tongue.

Karen found herself prey to one last kind of fear, one she had experience once before, in a warehouse empty of everything but a table, a monster, and a gun. A freezing kind of fear, frost climbing her spine and turning it to steel, the kind of fear that slowed down time into one moment of pure clarity.

In that second in the eye of the cyclone, two thoughts came to her.

The first was that no amount of whits and stalling would save her from this particular situation. An old man died from a bullet through his forehead for screaming too loud and Karen looks down, wondering if this fate was maybe not kinder than what is in store for the rest of them.

The second was, I wish Frank was there. It was genuine enough that she was briefly surprised, but not for long. It was, after all, completely true: of all the people she knew, Frank seemed like the best suited to rescuing people from blood-thirsty gangsters, and against her best judgment she had started to feel— safe, knowing he was out there, bringing hell right to the doorsteps of criminals.

Strange, how safety and danger could become twisted-entangled-unified, sometimes.

But Frank was not there. They were. Turk and her and all the nameless, innocent victims quivering behind her, voice breaking in useless supplications. People she had started to feel responsible for as soon as she had realized she was the most level-headed of them all — her, Karen Page, a human mess and a murderer.

Her, Karen Page, powerless to save any of them.

There was nothing to do to hide the blinking red light attached to Turk's ankle. Nothing that could be said that would placate their captors long enough for help to come.

Nothing that could be done to save him.

A blade was drawn from its sheath — it glinted in the low light, cold as iron, cold as steel. The man knelt in front of them, pinning Turk's ankle to the ground one handed and letting the knife rest on his skin, just a second before he started cutting.

Blood welled up under the sharp edge. Turk cried out, trying and failing to drag himself back.

Then, a gunshot — Karen wondered, for a second, if another of the screaming people at her back had been silenced by a bullet through the skull, before the knife fell from limp fingers and the gangster slumped forward with a single hole through his forehead.

Karen scrambled away from her kidnappers and looked back with them, shock and hope and terror fighting for the control of her mind, and as she lifted her eyes she saw—

Black boots, leaving bloody footprints—

Bullet casings, falling to the ground, all too loud despite the chaos around—

Dark clothing, as if the shadows themselves had decided to fight against the corruption—

A riffle, held between bruised fingers, bloody finger resting on the trigger—

A skull, white against a backdrop of darkness, the sight made all the more jarring by the blood splattered over it—

Frank.

A wave of relief washed over her, drowning all the fear and the anger and the regrets, only leaving behind it the knowledge that things were going to be alright, but first they were going to get a lot worse.

And then she yelled, “Get down!” and lunged to the ground herself, dragging Turk with her, seconds before bullets started flying from both side. Some ricocheted on the walls or the ground and briefly illuminated the Punisher in a shower of sparks, throwing hard shadows on his face. Each of his shots struck true; one shot, one kill.

Karen crawled on the floor, scrambling for cover from the firefight. She hid behind a pillar, curled on herself, closed her eyes, and counted in her head.

Shot, shot, reload. Shot, shot, reload. She could almost follow his path through the room by the echo of bullet casings falling, the screaming, the pounding of feet as gangsters tried to get away from the massacre. None went very far.

Silence fell and she kept counting. The sudden absence of sound, where they had just been so many of them, was not enough to make her open her eyes.

Step, step, step, stop. She could imagine him checking each of his victim for signs of life. A shot; agonized groaning stopped short. A mercy killing, if such thing could be said of anything a man like Frank Castle ever did.

Step, step, step, stop. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her bent neck. Could hear the shifting of clothes as he knelt in front of her, stretched his hand toward her and stopped short of her hair. The silence was deafening, barely broken by the occasional whimpering of the other victims.

His hand ever so slowly came to rest on the top of her head. Softly, Frank said, “Hey.”

She lifted her head, slightly, enough that she could look at him in all his blood-splattered glory. His eyes were large and dark, full of something much like fear — she had never known him to be afraid before. Except maybe once, lying on the floor of her apartment in the shaking seconds after shots were fired through her windows, his weight pinning her down — holding her down — and eyes scanning his surroundings, jumping from side to side like that of a wolf backed in a corner.

“Hey,” She replied, barely above a sigh. His expression softened, lost some of its manic edge. She wanted to tell him— something, but she couldn't, for the life of her, find what to say. She didn't want to tell him he was dead to her. Didn't want to tell her she forgave him.

He could apparently read this on her face, or in her eyes, or in the way she shifted, halfway through breaking away from his touch or leaning into it, she couldn't say. He gently pressed on her head until she was resting against his shoulder, one of his hand petting her hair reassuringly and the other rubbing her back. His leather jacket smelled like gun smoke and blood, but everything of his did, in the end, so she had a hard time bringing herself to care about it.

“You're okay, now, hear me?” He whispered into her ear, as soft as his voice ever got. “You're safe. You all are.”

She sighed, a quivering, wet thing, and wondered who he was trying to reassure: him or her. Maybe both.

She watched him kill people before, and still each time all she saw was a good man pushed to his breaking point. She started to wonder if, maybe, she had made him that way, with half-coherent pleas for mercy when there was place for none.

She started to wonder him maybe it simply took a killer to tame a killer. Maybe all it took was gunpowder fingers clutching his arms hard enough to leave bruises, tears shed on his jacket that's as most leather as it is blood and rust. A little show of foolish, fearless trust.

You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.

Karen took one last deep breath of his awful-familiar scent, wiped her tears on her sleeves, and got to her feet.

“You have a job to do,” She said, sounding more sure than she felt. “And so do I.”

He looked at her, searching for something — answers, maybe — in her eyes. What he found there seemed to satisfy him because he nodded, once, said, “Ma'am,” and left as he came — in stride, combat boots leaving a trail of blood in his wake, rifle resting against his chest.

She couldn’t quite begrudge Frank for the deaths. It was, after all, as much her fault as his, for wishing him there.

She couldn't find it in herself to feel guilty about it, either.

Karen squared up her shoulders, looked around the room and said, “The way down is clear. Let's get out of there.”

[benbarnesfrustration]

Black Days 2

I received an ask about making my one-shot Black Days into a series, and I was considering it when I came across the 10 Marvelous Things I Hate About You Writing Challenge. All the pieces started to fall into place. Here we go, and I hope you enjoy!

Prompt 1:  “I loooove your Black Days fic and want more. Would you consider making that a series?”

Prompt 2:  10 Marvelous Things I Hate About You Writing Challenge #41: “Unless she kicked the crap out of your dumb butt, I don’t wanna hear about it”

Rated T for angst and language, but part one is rated M for all the smut.

TW: discussion about war-like situations, references to sex, language, training with weapons

Word Count: 1975

Black Days Part 1

It had been a few days since the ambush outside of Kandahar, and your military base was abuzz about what went down. Lt. Russo and yourself were thoroughly debriefed, and as the only two survivors of the attack, you were treated like minor celebrities among the other military personnel. It was determined by the general in charge that everything was done by the book, and there really was nothing else you could have done to avoid the loss of life, which ended up totaling 16 American troops, five Afghan soldiers, and six al-Qaeda fighters. War was messy, and Kandahar was nothing but one big fucking mess.  

You were successfully extracted from the bombed out old hospital in which you took shelter. While waiting for help, Lt. Russo had skillfully dug a bullet out of your arm and then...well. Things took an unexpected turn. Psychologists speak of such moments of heightened sexual arousal after a traumatic event; it’s the mind’s way of coping with something horrifying. It also didn’t help that the Lieutenant was an extremely good looking man-- the guy looked like a model. 

You hadn’t seen him since the debriefing. You figured he was busy, especially considering he was an officer.  Or perhaps he was just avoiding you, since the two of you crossed a line that could cost him his military career. Either way, you weren’t surprised.

“So I did something really stupid,” Russo said.

Frank looked up from his guitar and fixed his best friend with a look. “What’d you do this time Bill?”

Russo lay on his cot staring at the ceiling of their tent. “I had an intimate encounter with a subordinate.”

That surprised even Frank. “Jesus Bill. That’s bad even for you,” he replied, shaking his head..

“OK, before you get ideas, let me tell you it's probably not what you’re thinking,” Billy said while sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the cot to face his friend.

“Oh? Then how was it Bill?”

Russo sighed. “We had barely gotten out of that attack alive. We were alone, injured....adrenaline, pheromones...”

Frank laughed. “Spare me the chemistry lesson.”

“I kissed her,” Russo said, and looking embarrassed. “And then--”

“Unless she kicked the crap out of your dumb butt, I don’t wanna hear about it,” Frank interjected with a chuckle.

“No,” Russo said, grinning. “No, she was into it. And let’s say things progressed from there. A lot.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You telling me you slept with this girl? A soldier??” Frank hissed. “You’re going to be court-martialed, you idiot.”

Bill shook his head defensively. “The fraternization policies are stupid, if two people who almost died can’t blow off a little steam--”

“Listen to yourself.” Frank interrupted. “What if she talks? What if she has second thoughts and reports you?” 

“She won’t. It’s not like that. We had fun, that’s all.”

“You didn’t take advantage of her?” Frank asked, pointing a finger at Russo.

“Christ, Frank, No!” Russo replied defensively. “I actually tried to stop it at first.”

“You think that’ll matter?  You’re the officer Bill. You should have known better.”

"Well I’m sorry I told you Frank. Jesus, don’t have to judge me!”  Russo slumped back against his pillow and ran a hand through his hair.

Frank sighed, and when he spoke, he was careful to use a gentler tone. “I’m not judging you. I just don’t want you to get in trouble. So what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea,” Russo said. “What can I do?”

Frank shook his head. “If I told you to drop it, would you listen?”

“Probably not,” Russo laughed.

Your dreams were all over the place. One minute you were running from bullets, and the next you felt hands on your skin. Deep kisses, then blood. Chaos and terror warred with ecstasy. You couldn’t sleep more than an hour or so at a time, and you were feeling the strain during the day.  

On the fourth day after the incident, you were standing at your locker, buttoning your fatigues with shaky fingers, when a honeyed voice pulled you out of your sleep-deprived daze.

“How’s the arm, Corporal?”

You jumped and slammed your locker door shut with a loud bang, revealing the face of Lt. Russo. He looked good, even though the shrapnel he took to the scalp left a mottled bruise on the upper left area of his forehead.

“Oh! I...uh...” you stammered, surprised. “Sir. Yes. The arm. The arm is good. The corpsman who stitched me up said you did a great job removing the bullet, thank you, sir.”

Russo nodded. “Curtis Hoyle is a buddy of mine. He told me he looked after you. He’s the best corpsman the Navy’s ever had.”

“He has a good touch,” you agreed. “And... how are you, sir?”

Russo shrugged. “Oh you know. Hanging in there.”  You noticed that he looked tired too. The two of you simply stood looking at each other for a moment. You got the impression that he was trying to decide what to say, and you also were at a loss.  He sighed. “I wanted to check in on you sooner, but I had some pressing things to attend to.” 

You nodded. “Of course, lieutenant.” He smiled then, and it lit up his whole face. He reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair away from your eyes that had escaped your bun. It was over in a flash, but you broke out in gooseflesh all the same.  “See you around Corporal,” he said, and headed off, smile still on his lips.

“Sir,” you said distractedly to his departing form, and felt that telltale butterfly flutter in your stomach. You silently cursed your excitement. So Russo touched your cheek...so what? It would certainly be for the best if nothing else happened between the two of you. He was an officer, and you were his subordinate. There were fraternization rules forbidding this sort of behavior, but you wanted his hands on you again...his lips, his tongue...all of him. You took a deep breath and tried to shake off the thoughts that were making your heart beat faster. After all, this was a dangerous game you were playing at. The simple fact was that it was not worth jeopardizing your career over one man, and you had to accept that.

You didn’t see Russo the next day, but the following day, a private came trotting over to you. “Corporal! Lieutenant Russo wants to see you in the training tent,” he said, before heading on his way. You swallowed anxiously, no idea what this could be about.  You made your way over to the training tent and were surprised to find Russo alone, standing with his back to you reading some paperwork. He turned around when he heard you approach, and smiled.  “Corporal,” he nodded in greeting. 

“Lieutenant,” you replied.  “What can I do for you?”

“It’s been almost a week since your injury, and I thought I would see how you’re healing up.”

“I’m a little sore sir, but I’m fine,” you replied.

Russo walked over to a weapons rack and gently ran his hand over the top of the various training weapons leaning against it. “Have you been getting in any practice?” He turned his head to look at you. “Gotta stay sharp, Corporal.”

“Not any formal training, sir. Just sit ups and runs, that sort of thing. Trying to take it easy on my arm.”

Russo picked up a wooden training staff and circled around your left side. Without warning, he tossed you the staff and you instinctively grabbed it with your injured arm-- your left-- and you grimaced in pain. You fixed Russo with a look. “You did that on purpose. Sir.”

He smirked. “Think the bad guys care if your arm hurts?”  You shook your head, and he returned to the training rack to grab another staff.  He walked back to you and stood in front of you. “Ok then,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

You nodded, took a deep steadying breath, and stepped forward.  "Sensei,” you said simply, and bowed your head.

Russo chuckled, then before you could say anything else, he leapt into action. You raised your staff to block his strikes, parrying and dodging to the best of your ability. You were in good shape, but he clearly had more strength and experience than you, and you found yourself losing ground. You tried to change tactics to gain the offensive, trying-- and failing-- a couple of times to trip him up. You spun and changed direction, so he had to turn around to face you. His eyes glinted mischievously, and you realized that he was really enjoying this.

His long arms and legs were also a serious disadvantage for you, but you were determined not to make it too easy for him.  The staves were a blur as they spun, swooped, and struck. Your gunshot wound was on fire, and the surrounding musculature was burning from the strain. You started to sweat as you struggled to parry all of his strikes, which didn’t show any signs of slowing. The man was fast.  You were about to lose all hope of ever gaining the upper hand when you successfully swept his left leg, and he went down to one knee.

“Well done,” he said breathlessly, and he was smiling as he said it. “I’m impressed, Corporal,” he added as he got to his feet.  

You chuckled. “You’re kicking my ass, sir.” 

He laughed. “Not exactly, but if you’d like me to be more rough on you....”

“Oh sure, why not?” You replied, and rolled your eyes, making him laugh again.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, and lunged at you.  The staves whirled and clashed again, and this time, your grunts were more audible as you tried like hell to take him down. Your arm was beyond pain at this point; just a numb lump that was somehow still managing to grasp one end of your staff.  You managed to glance a blow off of one of his shoulders, but before you could feel too proud of yourself, he had somehow managed to hook his staff behind your right knee and yank to the side; not only knocking your foot out from under you, but completely throwing off your balance.  You started to go down but instinctively reached out to grab the only thing in your reach, which was Lt. Russo.

You fell backward onto the mat, taking him with you by the collar of his shirt.  You lay there panting for a moment. He was on top of you, but holding himself up by his forearms so as not to completely pin down your upper body. You said nothing, just looked at him. God, you thought. He’s so fucking attractive. You suddenly wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you and tear your clothes off.

You feared that you had let something show on your face when he broke out into a brilliant smile. “What?” You asked.

He remained silent and just looked at you. You could see his eyes moving along the features of your face.  It was agonizing, being this close and doing nothing.

“Nice match,” he said suddenly, breaking the spell and lifting himself off of you. He held out a hand to help you up, which you  grasped with your good hand. You stood up and faced him. “Thank you, sir,” you said quietly.

"We should practice more. You’re good, but I think I can show you a few things.” He tossed you a towel. You grabbed it and mopped your forehead.

“I’d like that sir,” you said as you cleaned yourself up. You tossed the towel into the hamper.  “Thank you. I guess I should be getting back.” You turned to walk away.

“Corporal,” he said, and you stopped to look back at him. “When it’s just us, please call me Billy.”

You smiled. “Only if you call me Y/N.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning. 

Next chapter

@littledarlinhavefaithinme

[unknown-de-mordor-blog]

Plot Bunny Dump: Star Trek XI

This is a post on my old blog. Originally published Jul 12, 2012.

I hate when my plot bunnies just decide to reproduce like, well, bunnies! I couldn't care for them all so I’m putting it here for adoption if anyone cares for one.

The 2009 Star Trek movie gave me a great big kick. I got a couple of bunnies popping up in this fandom.

Warning: Highly K/S, but not necessarily

The Kirk-has-kid fic:

(For this bunny, I’m actually using the edit I posted on K/S archive)

Summary: During the second year of the five-year mission, Kirk was contacted about an illegitimate son he didn’t know existed who would be transferred to his care on the Enterprise. It’s one thing to fight off Klingons and Romulans. It’s another to have a fight at home.

Detail:

After Jim drove his father’s car down the cliff, Winona Kirk finally took notice of her family problem and came back to divorce Frank. In the meantime, Jim was sent to Tarsus IV to stay with his relatives. The famine struck, and Kirk and a bunch of kids stuck together to survive. He got attached to one older girl who took care of him at the time. They were together for a while before they were saved and separated once got back to Earth. Jim was sent back to Iowa without a chance to tell her where he was going, and they never saw each other again.

Jim only knew that he fathered a son with her on the second year of the five-year mission when Starfleet contacted him that she had died. Without other relatives, the boy was sent to his father on the Enterprise and the drama ensued. Jim tried to be a father when he never really had one. His son, with a deep grudge against his father whom his mother loved and worshipped but was never present, took every opportunity to throw it at Jim’s face that he had abandoned them. Spock tried to be a mediator and ended up with the boy kind of hero-worshipped him and his Vulcan coolness. Add that on top of life-threatening missions and a tension between Kirk and Spock that they never thought of exploring, until they were forced to raise a child together.

Notes and Bonuses: I kind of see Jim’s son as the angrier version of ten-year-old-something Jim Kirk with Jim’s IQ and all that, but I’ll leave it to the writer’s discretion on how much of a troublemaker he’s going to be. I don’t think he actually hates Jim, he’s just kind of jealous that his mother loves Jim (ahem, giant Freud alert!) and is angry that Jim was never there for her. So, bonus if he is the first to realize that there is something going on between Jim and Spock, and he disapproves at first because he doesn’t want Jim to forget his mother just like she had never forgotten about him. Another huge bonus for a happy ending, please. Note 2: Just in case you're wondering what to do with Uhura. I never think she and Spock are in a romantic relationship, although they are obviously attracted to one another because: (1) during the Academy years, Spock would have been her instructor. I don't think his moral code would allow them to overstep the bound. (2) he would have made clear to her after Narada that he intends to join the New Vulcan colony. They would have agreed to go their separate ways if she shows up on the Enterprise for its launch. (3) once he joins the Enterprise, he would be her commanding officer. Again, I think Spock would find it inexpedient to initiate a relationship with her. Of course, the writer can play with their friendship or chemistry as much as they want. :)

The Dystopian AU fic:

Summary: In an alternate reality, Terran civilization collapsed before the invention of warp-drive and the First Contact never occurred. Cities disintegrated in chaos and centuries later what was left was settlements of humans, now mostly nomads and farmers, scattered across the world with only a glimpse of the world that came before.

How will Kirk and Spock find each other and save the Federation from a crazy time-travelling Romulan, then?

Detail: Earth was labelled a loss after a global collapse and the Federation rarely paid attention to the contacts made by aliens who try to reap resources and capture human for slave-trade. The incidents were few enough for them to be the stuff of legend for the human struggling to survive in the aftermath.

Jim Kirk of Iowa was out in the field with his sheep when a gang of alien tried to abduct him. He was saved and brought back to the Enterprise, a sentinel ship protecting the Earth, by Captain Spock due to the violation of the Prime Directive. Without anyone else in his family (Father, died since he was young, Brother died in Texas IV, Mother died from illness a few years earlier), Kirk agreed to join the crew, which consisted of aliens but mostly of human Spock has saved from all around the world.

In this universe, Starfleet actually comprised different fractions based on their home planet and thus was quite fractured, more like a group of mercenaries under than an actual organization. Spock was under the Vulcan Fraction but was at odds with them due to his mixed heritage and his fascination with his mother's people who were now regarded as backward. Against his father's wish, he proposed project Enterprise (christened by Amanda) as a collaboration between the Vulcan Fraction and the Vulcan Science Academy so he could spend time studying and protecting Earth from orbit.

Kirk is directly trained under Spock because of his aptitude in logical thinking and computation. Kirk also had a fascination with the Time-That-Has-Gone-Before and liked to spend hours with Spock's personal book collection salvaged from Earth. After a close friendship with Kirk, he started to see the human's potential in command and later appointed him First Officer.

After things start to settle down, they were called back to Vulcan because of Nero's attack. The Vulcan Fraction lost to Narada's superior technology. They, however, managed to save a small group from the planet, but not Sarek whom Nero captured because of his status in Starfleet and Amanda whom Nero psychically broke and killed to spite Spock. Unable to save his mother, suffering from his broken bond with T'Pring and a psychic back-latch from an entire planet being destroyed - Spock became unstable and transferred his command to Kirk but not before he managed to relay an order to aid every Vulcan survivors in all surrounding planets.

Because of that order, Chekov found a life signal on Delta Vega belonging to an elder who seemed to know Kirk. He told Kirk of Nero's intention to destroy all Federation planets and that he would destroy Earth despite the fact that Earth was not a member of the Federation in this reality. With that information, Kirk, against all orders from the Federation, took the Enterprise to Earth to stop Nero and saved Sarek.

I didn't have much idea on how it transpires between here and the end where Spock gave Kirk permanent command of the Enterprise while he decided to join the other survivor and rebuild their race. Kirk, of course, convinced Spock that the Enterprise and Earth needed him more than the Vulcans. Spock was finally convinced to stay with the people that had now become his family and took the position of First Officer.

The MPREG fic (Yes, I've Been There):

Summary: Kirk and Spock went on a mission with the result of Kirk getting an alien uterus and a fetus with his and Spock's combined genetic. With Spock wanting a child, Uhura reluctantly agreed to her boyfriend's suggestion of co-parenting between the three of them. However, as time went by, she started to feel the rip in hers and Spock's relationship and a beginning of Kirk's and Spock's.

Detail: I don't care much about how the pregnancy is made possible, only how they deal with it. McCoy wasn't happy for medical reasons. Uhura wasn't happy because she wasn't ready. Spock wanted a child because his race was diminishing, and Kirk wanted to make Spock happy (in a non-romantic way, at first). But due to the different biology between the carrier, the uterus, and the baby. The pregnancy was complicated and their daily lives changed to accommodate. Although she agreed with the co-parenting term, Uhura soon started to realize that she didn't feel a connection to the baby while Kirk and Spock started to behave more and more like a couple. She also learnt from Kirk in one of their rare private camaraderies during the pregnancy that Kirk had fallen in love with Spock but was not planning on doing anything about it because he respected hers and Spock's relationship. Uhura started to have doubt in her own feeling soon after when she spotted Spock attempting a telepathic communication with his unborn child while Kirk was beaming and realizes that she didn’t really have a place there. When Kirk had to go through preterm birth and was isolated, and Spock was almost driven crazy both because of Kirk's condition and his need to telepathically bond with the child. Uhura confronted Spock about his feeling for Kirk and encouraged him to explore it (she had seen it coming months before after all; she had lots of time to prepare for this). She remained the third parent according to their agreement (and maybe finding comfort in McCoy?), while Kirk and Spock started to build a family.

The Real Reason Kirk Can't Sleep Alone:

Summary: Kirk didn't like his bed empty. Spock just assumed it was his captain's libido. That was until one diplomatic mission put Kirk and Spock in the same room that he realized Kirk's problem ran much deeper and attempted to help.

Detail: After Tarsus IV, Kirk was traumatized because a friend of his died during the night that he developed a fear that everyone might just drop dead while he slept. He dealt with the problem by either exhausting himself, getting drunk or bedding somebody so he had a warm body to hold and feel safe. On the ship, he often resorted to Bones' sedative or cuddled with the man himself (they were best friends after all). It was never a problem to his ability to command as long as he had enough sleep. Spock, only aware of Kirk's reputation with women and his frequent visit to the Doctor's quarter, assumed all along that it was just Kirk's sexual appetite until they went on a diplomatic mission together and Kirk's problem started to make itself known. (He was really stressed and really needed a cuddle, and McCoy wasn't around to help.) Upon learning about the true nature of the problem, Spock offered to cuddle with Kirk. They took the practice back to the Enterprise which soon turned into intimacy, and, of course, McCoy was always the first to know.

[my-emotional-self]

Let Me Protect You Chapter 18/?

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC Emilia

Word Count: 2,454

Warnings: Swearing, Mild Smut (oral sex, female receiving)

Rating: Mature

Summary: After Emilia’s fiancé cheats on her, she moves to California to live with her brother Eric, who just so happens to be good friends with Chris Evans.  Follow Emilia and her roller coaster life through heartbreak, love, and emotional trauma. Will Emilia choose to let Chris into her heart, or will she remain broken and alone forever?

 Before you knew it, a week had already passed.  It helped that you kept yourself busy with small tasks.  You didn’t want to feel like you were using Chris so you made sure to clean his entire house, top to bottom.  There was nothing better than coming home to a clean house.  Chris had an interview one day and that is when you took charge and got your hands dirty.  To say he was pleasantly happy when he returned home would be an understatement.  You wanted to make sure that he felt appreciated in your relationship too.  

You also had two more sessions with your psychiatrist Patricia over the last week.  Talking with her more about your diagnosis really helped you out.  You became more understanding of it and you really wanted to try to get better.  She told you it was probably because of your traumatic childhood, losing your mother at a young age; the fact that you didn’t grow up in an emotionally loving household also to blame.  Patricia wanted to hold off until your next appointment later that week before she started you on medications.  While you didn’t want to take them, you wanted to get better; you were going to be more open.  At the same time, it worried you with the time.  The Halloween party would take place a few days after you started the medication and you knew taking alcohol with antidepressants was not a good idea.  

You also received another couple of texts from Charlie.  You instantly deleted them and decided to keep it to yourself.  He was still begging you to come back home and try to work things out with him.  You didn’t have anything to say to him.  He broke you, emotionally and mentally and you knew that was not where you belonged anymore.  You belonged here, with your bother and Chris.  The two people who made you feel worthy of life.

It was now Tuesday and you found yourself back at Eric’s house, Chris by your side.  Eric had just returned home, a few days earlier than expected, from New York on business with Frank.  You didn’t want to prolong telling him about your diagnosis with the psychiatrist so you wanted to get it over with right away.

“Man it feels good to be home” your brother stated as he handed you and Chris a beer.  “You know….you two look really good together. I’m happy for you guys.  But Chris” your brother says as he points in Chris’ direction, “I will hurt you if you hurt her”, he finishes with a smile.

“Trust me Eric, never gonna happen” Chris says pulling me in for a kiss.

“Awww, cute, but get a fucking room” your brother pipes.

You pull away from Chris, your eyes gazing deep into his, always captivating.  You turn your attention to your brother and take a deep breath before you begin.  “Umm…so I ahh….I went to see a psychiatrist last week and I was diagnosed with a few things.”  Eric reaches over to grab your hands in his, and gives you an encouraging look, waiting for you to continue.  “Aaahh, Patricia, she’s my psychiatrist, said that I was a high functioning depressive, had anxiety, and that I have Borderline Personality Disorder…so yeah” you finish; a bit worried what your brother would think.

Eric lets go of his reach in your hands and moves around the table to give you his signature exceptional hug.  “Oh Emilia, it’s going to be alright.  You have Chris and I here with you and we will help you with every step of the way. Anything you need” he reassured you.

It was Chris’ turn to speak up now.  “I told Emilia she didn’t need to go out trying to find a job or her own place yet. I told her that I wanted her to focus on herself and to get better.  I was hoping you would agree with me on that.”

Eric kept one arm wrapped around you as he raised his other to squeeze Chris’ shoulder.  “Of course I agree with you dude.  All that matters right now is getting you better Em. Chris and I can take care of everything else.  I don’t want you worrying about anything else.”

“Yeah but it still doesn’t make me feel better about mooching off you guys.  It makes me feel greedy!”

“Okay but we’re offering Em so don’t feel bad” your brother quipped and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle.  “Chris said the same thing practically.”

The three of you sat around talking the rest of the night, Eric asking if you were going to come back to the guest house.  You decided you would spend through the weekend at Chris’ and you would come back Sunday night.  It actually made you a little sad knowing you wouldn’t be waking up to Chris every morning, or falling asleep in his arms every night.  But he assured you that he could be to your place in a matter of minutes if you needed him; or you could always go back to his place.  Even though the relationship was moving rather swiftly, it really didn’t seem like it.  It seemed as if you guys had been dating months instead of days; except in the sexual department.  You decided that it was almost time to make that final leap with Chris and it made you all giddy inside.  

You found out Eric would be coming to the Halloween party also and it made you so happy to know that he would be there with you. Chris and you had spent hours scouring the internet trying to find the perfect costumes.  Seeing as this was your first costume party, you wanted to go all out as Halloween was one of your favorite holidays.  Once you both agreed on costumes, you got them ordered and it would be delivered by Friday, perfect timing for the party on Saturday.

Wednesday morning came too fast and you were sat across from Patricia as you nervously fiddled with your hands.  You watched as she wrote out a few prescriptions for you, your heart racing in your chest.  

“Alright Emilia, I have two prescriptions here for you.  The first is for Lexapro.  I started you out on the lowest dose of 10mg daily.  This is going to be for your depression.  The second one here is Xanax, and I only want you taking this as needed alright?”  You nod your head yes in understanding.  You used to work in a pharmacy so you knew all about drugs and medications.  You took the prescriptions, thanked her, and told her you would see her next week.  

You made your way to your Jeep; Chris couldn’t come with this time as he had to take Dodger to the vet for his yearly checkup.  You told him it was fine as it wasn’t your first time.  You drove around until you found a pharmacy with a drive-thru. You’re nerves still on edge; you didn’t trust your legs to be able to hold you up.  You gave the technician your prescriptions and waited for them to get filled; the tech saying they weren’t busy so you could just wait there. After about fifteen minutes, your prescriptions were ready and you paid, but not before the pharmacist talked to you. You knew the spiel, having been on antidepressants before.  He told you about the side effects: mood swings, headache, changes in sleeping pattern, and to avoid taking alcohol with it, stating it could alter the way your brain works.  He also said it could take one to two weeks to notice a difference in the way you feel while taking this medication.  You thanked him and drove towards Chris’ house.  

As you pulled up to the house you noticed right away Chris wasn’t home quite yet as his car wasn’t in the driveway.  You ambled up the stairs and decided a hot shower would help to sooth your tense muscles, and you were right.  The shower felt incredible and your muscles relax.  Hopping out you grabbed one of the fluffy blue towels you left out on the counter as you wrapped it around your body.  Opening the bathroom door you let out a shriek as Chris was standing there. “Fuck baby you almost gave me a heart attack” you wailed.  “I’m sorry” Chris crooned out as he made his way to gather you in his arms.  

Chris leaned his head down and started placing light kisses along your neck, making you shiver.  “Are you cold beautiful?” Chris asked huskily into your ear.  “You damn well know why I’m shivering” you assert breathily as your grip his strong arms.

“Well lets take care of that” he says with a sexy smirk as he picks you up and places you gently on the bed.  You laid there in nothing but a towel to cover you up, as Chris was still fully clothed. This was so not fair.  

He climbed onto the bed with you as you reached to grab his neck and pull him closer to you, ravishing his lips. You drew your hands up underneath his shirt to feel his abs as your tongues danced together in perfect harmony. Tugging on his shirt, Chris grabbed the back of it at the collar and pulled it over his head, understanding that you wanted more of his skin.  Your hand then moved down and to his obvious erection that was straining against his jeans. “You would feel more comfortable if you took off your pants” you purred between nibbles on his neck.  He wasted no time in undoing his belt and lowering his pants down, kicking them off the bed.  

You both lay there on your sides, gazing lustfully into each other’s eyes.  He moved towards you as he placed his leg in-between yours, his thigh hitting your clit perfectly.  “Shit” you moaned out as your head hit the pillow.  You found yourself involuntarily grinding your hips upwards to get more friction as Chris assaulted your neck.  Your fingers traced the muscles of his torso, finding them going lower until you reached his hard clothed cock; Chris moaning loudly at the feeling.  He pulled open your towel and you were exposed to him.  He hungrily trailed kisses from your throat down to your right breast; his hand cupping your left.  His tongue darted out to lazily circle your hardened nipple as his he pinched your other one.  Your back arched off the bed as you squeezed your eyes shut tight.  “Fuck Chris that feels so good” you cried out.  He trailed his right hand lower, ghosting over your ribs and stomach before reaching your pussy, replacing his thigh.  You bit your lip harshly trying to hold back your moan. You opened your eyes to see Chris staring at you, desire pooling in his eyes as he dipped his fingers into your folds, reveling at your wetness.  “I want to taste you so bad baby….can I do that?” he pleaded.  You didn’t even have to think about it as you nodded your head quickly.  

His hand left your aching mound as he pulled the towel out from under you.  His kisses down your chest and stomach made your body feel like it was erupting into flames as your breathing became heavier.  Your eyes never left his face and as he nuzzled in-between your thighs, raising his head his eyes met yours.  Eyes never leaving yours, he spread your wet folds and licked a strip from your opening to your clit.  “Mmmm…baby you taste so fucking sweet” Chris hummed as he delved back down to circle your clit with his tongue.  Your hand reached down to latch onto this hair and your nails grazed his scalp. He hummed in approval right into your mound and the sensation made you spasm.  “Oh fuck that felt incredible” you pant.  Chris inserted a finger into you, moving it slowly in and out, curling it upwards when it was inside as his mouth clung to your clit.  Profanities left your mouth as you felt the coil in your belly tightening, warning you how close you were.  “Right there baby…so close…don’t stop” you begged.  Chris didn’t let up and in fact entered a second finger and you were seeing stars immediately.  You let out a strangled scream as your orgasm burst through, your hand gripping his hair tighter.  He removed his fingers as you came down from your high, trying to catch your breath. Chris crawled up the bed and lay down next to you giving you a loving smile which you hastily returned.

You turned from your back to straddling Chris as your ground down on his throbbing cock earning a delightful groan from him.  Giving him a chaste kiss, you start sliding your body downwards, kissing every inch of skin you possibly could.  When you reached one of his nipples you swirled your tongue over it before nipping it gently with your teeth.  Chris growled at the feeling as he gripped your hair in his fist.  You continued your ministrations as you moved lower, finally getting to your destination.  His boxers were still on so you teased him with a lick from hip to hip before grabbing the material with your teeth and lowering them to his knees. “Fuck” Chris huffs out as he licks his lips, waiting for your next move.  His cock hard as it lays against his stomach.  You shimmy up his body until you’re at his base and lick a strip against his vein on the underside; not even stopping you take him fully into your mouth.  You hollowed your cheeks as you used your hand where your mouth couldn’t reach. Chris gripped your hair tighter as he moaned out “almost there baby”.  His hips started thrusting up and you felt his legs start to tremble.  Your mouth and throat were coated with his cum soon after as Chris collapsed back against the bed panting.  You reached for the towel that was still on the bed and wiped your mouth.  

You collapsed into Chris’ arms as you’re both sated from your orgasms.  “That was a pleasant surprise” you giggled.  “Mmmm, indeed it was” Chris responded as he snuggled you into his arms.  Both of you let out simultaneous yawns and chuckled.  Chris had exhausted you in such a pleasant way and you him.  It was only fitting to take a power nap in each-other’s arms.  As your eyes grew heavy, you wished you could stay in Chris’ arms forever; that nothing would tear the two of you apart.  He was the man of your dreams, and you wanted your fairy tale ending.

Tag List: @evansfanficweekly @ssweet-empowerment @always-an-evans-addict @patzammit @iamwarrenspeace @tacohead13 @valentinesbird @littlemissacorn

[bewitchthequeen]

Caleo Makes Me Cringe And Here’s Why

Yet another Heroes of Olympus anti list for your asses so prepare your butts because I’m about to blow ‘em clean off.

Note: Usually things apply. If you like Caleo and don’t care to hear counter opinions and that makes you aggressive and mean then this isn’t something you’re interested in, I’m going to have to ask you to move along :D I’m entitled to my opinions as you are yours. Any aggression targeted at me because I don’t ship what you ship will be treated with demeaning responses

You have been warned

Side Note: I have nothing but love for Rick Riordan, these are solely my opinions, which I’m entitled to have.

If you have anything to include, feel free to add your own thoughts.

I’m putting this under a Read More so people who don’t want to see this doesn’t have to.

1. To the people who say that Caleo is the best ship because “it’s not incest”. You are wrong. Calypso is Atlas’ daughter, Leo is Hephaestus’ son.  In Riordan verse, Atlas is Iapetus’ son, Iapetus is Kronos/Cronus’ brother, Kronos/Cronus is Zeus and Hera’s father, Hera is Hephaestus’ mother (and in some myths Zeus is his “biological” dad but we’ll ignore this for the riordan verse). If you’re using the incest card, it’s still incest as all gods and titans are related in some way as they all came from Gaea in some way, shape, or form. So kissing cousins apply here and that makes your argument invalid. Claiming it’s the only “healthy” or not gross ship is a lie or you could go along with Rick and his “genetics are a human thing”. The choice is yours.

2. They started out hating each other but skipped the whole tolerating/friendship stage and basically went straight into romance which doesn’t work for the short amount of time they were together. It was a weak build up and even now Leo looks like a lovestruck little boy while Calypso seems to be rather aloof and disengaged from the relationship. Kind of like now that people are around to see them she doesn’t want to be seen romantically with him? At least, that’s how it looks to me. This is my perception.

3. Calypso seems very angry still and I feel like it would be better for her to work on that solo rather than be in a relationship where she needs to kind of take it a lot slower than she would if she was alone. She has to take another person’s feelings into account so that’s not the best for someone with so much pent up anger. Take it from someone who has had something like that.

4. What would have been a more powerful story line for both of them would have been Leo realizing he doesn’t need to be in a relationship to feel validated and cared for. That being the 7th wheel isn’t a bad thing unless you perceive it that way. It’s a flaw with most books like this and young adult books. All the main characters simply have to be in a relationship. It seems like it’s a must and it’s not. A fair amount of people go through high school without dating. I had two boyfriends, one that lasted for a month (and he gave me fucking panic attacks) and then one that lasted about six months (before a tragedy), but I had friends who had been dating their S.O. since freshman year, some who chewed through boyfriends like no tomorrow, some who didn’t want to date, and some who just never dated. For what seems to be every young adult book ever, there are couples even if feelings don’t bloom until the very end of the book. So imagine my disappointment at how unrealistic these are becoming? It seems literally everyone in PJO/HoO/ToA are in a relationship even background and minor characters. I feel like it’s because people suspect this out of Rick now, and it makes me feel bad that he feels he needs to pair everyone up. I can’t imagine how stressful that must be. He shouldn’t have to do that. There’s this wonderful thing called fan fiction; you can read it, write it, and explore it. You don’t need to make that poor man feels like everyone needs to be in a relationship. It has negative affects/effects on people that age who reads them because then they feel like they need to be in a relationship to feel validated (like Leo) and could possibly end up in a bad relationship or feel like there’s something wrong with them for not being in one.

5. For Calypso because #4 was so long. Calypso’s story would have been a lot more powerful had she learned to love herself and the boat come for her. It would have been a real strong hit like “You don’t need someone to save you” and “You can save yourself” and self love promotion. (Honestly, both of their storylines could have done that but those opportunities were missed unless it gets horrendously retconned). In this day and age, I definitely feel like promoting self love is more powerful than Caleo unless you’re looking at it through rose colored glasses, like most shippers do. I’m guilty of this myself. I love Leo and I love Calypso, I just feel like there was a missed opportunity here.

6. Leo saving Calypso kind of made Percy look bad. This is a no-no. Making one character look bad for a relationship is a no-no. Percy usually keeps his promises. The only one I’ve seen him not keep was Bianca and even then I’m not 100% that was a promise? I don’t know. I just don’t like that Percy just “forgot” and basically made him like the other heroes that landed on Calypso’s island. I’m confident that’s not something that Percy would just “forget” but whatever. There’s a lot with HoO that I don’t like when it comes to Percy but that’s a post for another time.

7. Okay this is just because I seen a post from a pro caleo blog (and I’m not going to tag cause I don’t want to start a fight since this is a personal opinion and they made it clear they’re going to “defend caleo till they die”. I’m not trying to talk anyone out of anything. I’m stating my opinions, but claiming things about other ships without acknowledging your own ships faults is a no-no. (that’s the reasoning for the first reason on here). Here’s my defense (despite the fact I don’t really ship any of the canon ships but unfair attacks are unfair attacks) alright so here we go.      a. “ Percabeth = Incest.” See #1 because Caleo is also incest and I explained it above making this a useless excuse to ship Caleo.      b. “Tysella = Furry.” Okay, but Ella is a harpy and Tyson is a cyclopes. I don’t understand why furry is being claimed here but okay. You’re entitled to your opinion, but harpies were never considered animals as they are mythical creatures and I, personally, don’t include mythical creatures as furries but aiight. Furries have fur, not feathers. I haven’t seen any furries/fursonas with feathers. If I’m wrong all I ask is that you prove it without being vulgar.       c. “Grover/Juniper = Furry” Okay. Grover is a satyr which doesn’t really strike me as Furry since it’s humanoid, same with Ella, so it’s not furry as furry are completely animals? And anyways Juniper is basically a fucking nature spirit? It’s basically similar to how a dog likes rolling around in the grass? Whatever though       d. “Jason and Piper = Incest” again so is Caleo. skip Frank and Hazel because nothing was really said on this.       e. “Paul and Sally = Sally’s probably traumatized by Gabe beating the shit out of her” Okay, what does that have to do with Paul and Sally? That’s completely irrelevant to Paul and Sally’s relationship especially since there’s no hint at Paul being abusive to Sally? Sure, Sally is probably traumatized, but I would think she’s working through that since she seems to have a functioning relationship. But what does Sally’s trauma have to do with Paul? Weak excuse.       f. “Solangelo = Not only is Nico 85 while Will 14 but he’s possessive etc, etc”. Okay, but Nico is technically 14 himself? I mean, yes, he was born way back, but if we’re looking at age here Calypso is thousands of years older than Leo. And with possessive, I’m pretty sure Leo got mad at Percy about Calypso and was even kind of mad/jealous of Jason while he was trapped on the island because of Calypso not being interested in him and basically calling him scrawny or something like that. And Nico is in the body of a fourteen year old, he has the mind of a fourteen year old. He is a fourteen year old. He is in the mental state of a fourteen year old. Do you know how unsettling that would be if he dated someone “his own age”? His growth, mentally and physically, have been stunted thanks to the Lotus Hotel, so Nico di Angelo is a fucking fourteen year old. Let’s be clear that I don’t ship Solangelo, but after the shit that kid has been through he deserves to be happy. He lost all of his family, was forcibly outed by his sexuality by an asshole god, went through Tartarus by himself, and had to deal with feeling lost in a world that he didn’t feel accept him even among his peers/the people who should have understood him the most. If anyone deserves to be happy. It’s him. Fucking drop it.       g. “Chris/Clarisse” we’re back at incest and I’m back at Caleo being incest.       h. “Charles and Selena” again with incest because their parents are married. Atlas is Hephaestus’ great uncle so that’s seriously your kid dating your cousin. But Caleo isn’t creepy or incest. Okay thanks. Beckendorf and Silena are a ship that I actually enjoyed because they gave a shit about each other and loved each other despite parentage and then they died and it broke my heart. Honestly, if you find this creepy, a mother and daughter dated a police officer and his son in the Scream TV Series. That I found weird especially since that was all biological. Rick already said that genetics and gods aren’t a thing. The fact that I’m saying this more that once is exhausting. Just because your parents are married doesn’t mean it’s incest. To make this less creepy, Hephaestus and Aphrodite never had children and it’s a bullshit marriage anyways so. Whatever.

Honestly, if you’re going to be biased, at least know your facts. 

That’s all I got now, feel free to start a discussion.

[xandrewxbellerx]

The Woes and Misery’s of a 24 Year Old Millennial

Man, I was going to type up a post about how things have been going in my life in the last 6 months, but to be frank, I’m not entirely sure why I should, or why I feel the need to do so. And yet here I am typing away on this keyboard. Well, let’s get to it, shall we?

By this time, some of you are probably aware that Jenna and I have decided to call it quits. Now, to some, it comes as a shocker, but to those closest to me, you know that I have actually been thinking about this for awhile. Things between her and I were just not working. We were two separate people who wanted two separate things out of the relationship. On my side, there is zero animosity or hatred or negative thinking; I’m not sure how she feels. To be honest, she broke up with me back in September of 16′ and I convinced her to give me a second chance. That turned out to be some what of a mistake. Now, fast forward a bit and we get to my current situation; Love and heartbreak.

Right, i’m sure I know what you’re thinking, ‘Oh, okay. He’s just hurt over the situation with Jenna.’ Well? I wish that were the case. Unfortunately, it’s not. You see, there has been this girl that lamentably caught my eye around the time Jenna first broke up with me. Nothing happened between myself and this other girl, and nothing has happened since Jenna and I have split, but I will say that we were talking; Truth be told, I don’t think I have ever clicked with someone like I have with this other girl. At this point you are silently judging me because I was talking to this other girl. See, here’s the thing; When I say talking, I don’t mean we were talking like we were gonna date or something like that. We were truthfully just really great friends. And by this point in the relationship with Jenna, I was thinking of how I could leave. Now, this is where it gets really sad: I fell really hard for this other girl.

For the sake of her life and those few select few people who know her and I, I’m going to refrain from using names. I feel it necessary to keep this anonymous. So, lets start, shall we? Okay. Well, this girl is absolutely wonderful. She’s smart, shes super compassionate, while at the same time being this small girl filled with so much hate, and to top it all off, she is honestly really into me. How do I know this? Okay, well, do you ever just talk to someone and notice that they are really listening? Like, they are listening so intently to what you’re saying and they don’t care about anything else that is going on around you or them; They just genuinely care about what you have to say at that exact moment in time. I can be truthful when I say that I honestly feel like nobody has ever sat and listened to me like she has. She stares into my eyes and tells me how handsome I look and how my smile makes her melt. Maybe i’m just not used to this much attention? I don’t know, but it drives me wild. This girl has a way with her words that makes me feel like I’m on top of the world looking down at everyone else. Whenever she’s around, I can’t help but smile and act like an idiot. Speaking of her smile, every time she smiles and laughs I can’t help but fall even harder for her. We’ve both gone through some traumatic events that has carved and shaped us into the people we are today and we bonded over that. In fact, there was one day that we sat in her car and literally cried to each other; Just sitting there opening up to each other about things we have never told anybody else before. This girl has honestly made me rethink a lot of my own beliefs on the topic of love. I’ve never been one to truly believe in love at first site or even that there is that one person out there specially for you, but I’d like to believe that if that were the case, that she might be that one. See, now this is where the heartbreak and sadness comes into play; She’s unavailable. Because we’re keeping this anonymous, I will not be explaining why. Just know that her and I can’t be together; No matter how badly we both want it. You see, that’s okay though. Life isn’t always about getting everything you think that you deserve. Sometimes, if you’re willing to try hard enough, you can achieve just about anything you set your eyes on, but then there are other times where you just can’t get what you want. Even if it is what you truly believe is the right thing for you.

If you were to tell 12 year old me that I would have found someone that truly understood me and completely accepted me and loved me for me, I’d told you that you were selling me some bullshit. Any of my closest friends can tell you how much self loathing and hatred I have for myself. It’s kind of sickening, really. But she doesn’t see me like that. It’s weird. There are days where I have to ask her if shes’s feeling alright because even on my worst days, she thinks that I’m shitting rainbows out of my ass. 

Life isn’t fair and you’re not always going to get what you want, but you move on; You don’t sit and dwell on ‘what ifs’ and ‘why not’s’. You move on and you grow. Even if you truly don’t want to.

Thanks,

Andrew Beller

[welldonekhushi]

[SAFEHOUSE CREW/BOCW AU]

Katya dearie, what do you think of every member of the crew?

Mason: He was the first person that I had ever cared for the most. From knowing his rough and terrifying past that made him the guy he is currently, I took him under my wing. He might looked disastrous, but the moment I realised he was more lost than to take action, I decided to counsel him through the hard time.

Bell: The other person whom I had to protect the most. Being stricken out of his own identity by Adler's curiosity, I couldn't expect it anymore. He always used to have an existential crisis, trying to know who he really is, it just broke my heart. He was mentally tortured and abused, that I never let anyone use him anymore. Bell really deserves better. He really does.

Aside, me also losing whoever I knew dear to, Mason was one of my last chances. Because, he knew a friend, which I knew too, the one I had been looking for. Everytime I saw Mason, it was like, I was seeing Reznov. It warmed my heart. It doesn't mean I was taking care of Mason just because Viktor was in his conscience, but at least, we can share our pain together for what both we had lost from our hands.

Woods: Frank is a guy who doesn't take anything much seriously but I don't blame him for that. He's carefree, and loves to lighten up the mood with his demeanor. Also, he specially considers Mason as his true friend so I feel more relived. At least, when I'm not there, he's present to keep him safe.

Hudson: I never understood this person. Whatever he tried to get was a different way to obtain. He was the cause of Mason's interrogation and triggering his awful past. He can be a little jerk at sometimes but I have to be patient about it. I never liked the way he called Bell "no use to us" like he was completely worthless. Though, we do discuss topics together when it comes to an important meeting.

Park: Well, for a woman like me, Helen also matches the same. She's bold, strong, intelligent. I'm glad that she's brave enough to fight along the border lines, and gives hope to the entire crew.

Lazar: He is literally the guy who I would love to talk to incase I have a bad mood. He would always offer me with "takeout foods" as it's quite new for me, to cheer me up, and listens to my issues whenever I'm feeling traumatized or upset. He's such a sweetheart and I would love to cherish him.

Sims: He cracks up the best jokes. Probably he loves introducing me to new trends and genres, but I don't understand some. Though, he's also interesting and great for company.

Adler: .. is it better if I don't explain about this person? Because he's clearly nothing but a monster in my eyes. Will torturing a poor soul can give him whatever he wants? Like for what he did to Bell? By removing his goddamn identity? By making him forget who he really is, and everything what existed in his memory turned into a blur, just because of this man's curiosity to track down somebody he's against. Well done, Adler. Well done.

[agecfmiracles-archive2]

mobile bio - maria castle

Name: Maria Dunne Castle Age: 35 Species: Human Location: Hell’s Kitchen, NY

Maria Dunne came from an old money Irish Catholic family in upstate New York State. She had a happy childhood for the most part, until she was six years old. When she was six, her sister went to a school friend’s birthday pool party on a shimmering hot summer day. Maria was playing in her room when the phone downstairs started to ring, and then Mama started to scream. Lisa’s new swimsuit got caught on a vent at the bottom of the pool, and by the time any of the adults at the party noticed she had drowned, and suddenly Maria Dunne was an only child.

Still, her family managed to cobble together a good life in the wake of their tragedy. Maria began music lessons as a suggested therapy, though her strong personality shone through on her first violin lesson; the instructor was an old-fashioned goat of a woman, who tried to whap Maria on the thigh when she didn’t hold her elbow straight. And Maria whapped her right back, which was the end of violin. The following week a new instructor came, a younger more patient woman who taught Maria how to play mandolin so well that she could play reels at the local Irish heritage festivals by the time she was 14.

She was smart and strong-willed, like her mother, and a romantic at heart like her father, and so for the safety of all local boys she went to an all girls’ Catholic high school in Queens. The bright, shimmering hot summer afternoon after the last day of senior year, Maria and her friends went to Central Park for ice cream and to ride the carousel, and instead found a burly young man butchering a song on the guitar in the shade of a nearby tree.

It was all over from there. It’s not as if her parents forbade her from dating while in high school, but it was clear that they hoped she would wait until college to start meeting boys. Well, summer after senior year was close enough, right?

At the end of the summer, days before fall semester at NYU began, all her and her parents’ plans came screeching to a halt when Maria realized she was pregnant. Out of wedlock. With an Italian Marine hopeful. She told Frank before she told her parents, for obvious reasons, and Frank surprised her. He didn’t just offer to marry her because he felt obligated, he begged to marry her because he loved her. Her. So, instead of going to her parents unwed and pregnant, she went to her parents with a plan. She and Frank would get married. The timing was perfect because the school year’s nine months, right? So she would finish her freshman year of school a few weeks before the baby came, take a year off and live in the military family housing to be near Frank while he was training and have the support of other wives, then once the baby was old enough for daycare she would go back to NYU and finish her degree. Easy. They already had their marriage license printed ready to take to the courthouse.

Connor and Aileen Dunne were shocked. Mortified. Deeply hurt that their only daughter would hide that she was seeing someone while living under their roof, that she wouldn’t confide in them or even attempt to follow the usual customs of asking for her parents’ blessing before getting married. But they also admired the guts it took to do all of this and confess straight to their faces. They weren’t thrilled, but they agreed to the marriage, because they knew that if they didn’t they would lose the only child they had left. Besides, she wasn’t asking permission, she was warning them of the inevitable.

So Maria Dunne became Maria Dunne Castle at the city courthouse on a Thursday afternoon, wearing the white cocktail dress from her last high school winter formal and with a daisy in her hair. 

Two months into her freshman year of college, while Frank was away at boot camp, Maria got the call that her mother was diagnosed with Stage 2 breast cancer. The signs were in Aileen’s favor as long as they began aggressive treatments immediately, and Connor insisted that Maria stay in school and he would take care of everything. And Aileen got sicker, and sicker.

Frank came home on furlough a few days before the end of Spring semester, just as final exams were wrapping up. Maria was nine months pregnant and feeling every minute that crept closer to her due date, but was determined to get through her finals without complaining. There was too much on her plate between Mom, and the baby, and school, and so all she could do was put her head down and work hard and hope it all came out okay. She got the call that her mom was being hospitalized the night before her English final, and she started having contractions around midnight.

So, what? False alarms happen all the time, she told Frank even while he begged her to call her professor and ask to make up the final. She explained with very little patience that you don’t just make up a college final, and besides, she was fine. And Maria kept up that monologue until her 4pm exam. Frank waited outside the exam hall, sweating like a pig, watching her tense and lamaze breathe through writing her essay. But she did it. She finished and, triumphant, marched to the front of the room to hand in her test—and her water broke on the professor’s shoes. 

And that’s the story of how Lisa Castle was almost born in the passenger seat of Frank’s truck in the middle of a traffic gridlock, but thankfully training had been kind to Frank, and he abandoned his truck to the traffic tickets and carried Maria the last two blocks to the hospital.

Life actually got less chaotic, once Lisa came. When Maria and Frank brought the newborn upstairs to meet her grandmother for the first time, it was as if the new life reinvigorated Aileen’s will to survive; she turned to corner toward recovery and was deemed cancer-free six months later. Maria passed her finals and went on with Frank to North Carolina to finish his training. Lisa and Maria were a huge hit with the other Marine wives, enough to console and support her through Frank’s first deployment. Even so, they moved back to New York when he came home a year later, in one piece, thanks be to God, and Maria prepared to go back to school.

And for the next three years, things were okay. Maria finished an undergraduate degree in Communications, and six months later Francis Castle Junior was born—planned, this time around. They bought a house in Queens, close to where Connor and Aileen had moved during her treatment. They put down roots.

Then Connor and Aileen were killed by a drunk driver, struck down in the crosswalk after seeing a Broadway show. The last time she heard her mother’s voice was minutes before the accident, and she complained about the service at dinner before the show. And that was it. Maria did what she could to find comfort in her husband and children, but the grief was blinding, all-encompassing, her every synapse alight with agony.

But time moved on. Time passed. Frank left, and came home, and left again. Maria finished a graduate degree and got a great job at a record label in the city. She raised her children alone because her husband spend half his damn life across the ocean. She practiced mourning him on long nights alone, just in case, but he seemed to be immune to the same tragedies that seemed to strike every other military family. And finally, blessedly, when the kids were nine and eleven, he finally decided to come home and stay. The weight on her heart was finally lifting. Home, he was home, and he wasn’t leaving again.

And then she died. At least for two minutes, she did. 

When she woke up, all she knew was her name. No dead sister, no dead parents, no dead children. No husband. Her entire life was gone in the aftershocks of a traumatic brain injury. No one would tell her what happened at first, only that she had been in a medically induced coma for almost six months. By the time she was well enough to leave the SHIELD hospital, they explained to her that her husband (husband?) was a dangerous man, a terrorist, who was responsible for the shooting that almost killed her and did kill her young children. That he must never find out she was alive, or he would finish what he started. 

They helped her get a small apartment in Queens, near the cemetery where her children were buried. She was given exercises to help her redevelop her short-term memory and try to restore her longer-term memories. She isn’t sure she wants them all back, though.

[heartsofstrangers]

What is one of the most challenging things that you’ve experienced or are currently experiencing?

“One of the most challenging things that I’ve experienced and am currently experiencing is – just recently – being incarcerated. While being incarcerated, I had to deal with not being with my son and a very rough breakup with the love of my life. I’m not gonna name names, but she was my fiancée and me sitting in a cell, having to deal with that, not really knowing what’s going on in the outside world. Out of all the things I’ve experienced, that has got to be the most difficult. I mean, I could tell you about things I’ve gone through in my life, and most people would probably say, ‘How was that the most difficult thing? How could that possibly be the most difficult?’

“I’ve been hospitalized my whole life, being in and out of places, and watching my mom out the window of a residence – when she walks away, she seems fine – ‘Okay, take care.’ And then watching how she really feels, when she doesn’t know I’m watching her cry, seeing her hold her stomach because it’s in knots because she can’t bear leaving me in a place. Losing my Uncle Frank, the only real father figure I’ve ever had, was hard.

“So how is the heartbreak the worst? How is being incarcerated and dealing with all that worst? I don’t know the answer to all that myself: it’s just the most difficult. It hit me real hard. It’s the one thing I don’t think I’ll ever get over, the only thing I won’t be able to move on from. I don’t know if it’s the not knowing what’s going on or the love and the fact that I love the person and it’s so toxic. It’s difficult to try to make things work. We have a child together, and being away from him and not being able to see him grow up.

“He’s two now – but not being able to see his first steps, his first words, that stuff you never ever get back. Time is very precious, and we don’t realize how precious until you’re stuck doing the same thing every day and everyone else in the outside world keeps on moving. Every little thing you can’t get back. I can’t recreate my son’s first Christmas; I’ll never get that back. I can’t see his first steps, ‘cause I missed it. I can’t hear his first words because I wasn’t there to hear them. There are things that, no matter how much I want or feel like I needed to experience in my life, that are unrealistic. It’ll never happen. I don’t have a time machine, as much as a lot of us wish we did. I ain’t got no time machine.

“There’s no second chance for that type of stuff. I do plan on having more children, so I can experience it then, but with my firstborn, my only child right now, those moments are gone. I don’t know where the past three, four years went; it seems like everything’s flown by real quick. Here I am, I just turned twenty this month, October 11th, and I don’t know how I got here, but I did, and I’m still standing. It still hurts. It definitely still hurts, but I’ve grown stronger from it, definitely. I notice it in myself but a lot of people notice it too, I guess. I’ve grown a lot in the past two years. I don’t even remember, it’s gone by so quick; I don’t remember how I used to be. I see the growth a little bit, I guess, but I don’t remember how I used to act and how things used to go.”

What was growing up like for you?

“Growing up, I was living in a rich town. I grew up in North Branford. Everyone around me was wealthy and I felt like I was the only one where money was really tight, and my mother – she’s done the best that she could for me. I can’t say I haven’t really gotten everything I wanted or needed; I have. My mother tried very hard to give me everything I wanted and needed. She raised me very well and very respectfully, well-mannered.

“But I’d like to say this, just like this, just like everybody else, I got issues. Growing up, it’s been hard dealing with my issues, and it’s been hard going in and out of places, racing thoughts and being told I need to be on this medication or that or this, oh, and then, because this medication is doing this, now I need this, and they give me this medication and it makes me react – it makes my psyche not so good; I end up going into a hospital, and I have to sit in a hospital until they get my meds right. It’s all just feels like strings on my arms, like a game, I’m a puppet and they’re playing with me.”

You mentioned your issues being challenging to deal with. What were some of those issues? Were you referring to your mental health? Were you referring to external things?

“I’m referring to really both. They intertwine with each other. The external things around me in my life have – my mental health, I have bipolar disorder. That’s what they say I has. That’s made other external things harder to deal with. Anxiety, too – racing thoughts.

“So when I have situations where I, growing up, getting in trouble with the law, drinking, smoking marijuana, doing reckless stuff, or a tragedy – my uncle Frank passed away – dealing with the heartbreak of losing the moments in my life that I feel like I really needed, and losing the person that I love because of a toxic situation where maybe we don’t mix. I don’t think I can really call a specific situation – there are tons of them.

“Everything’s just flown by. It’s all gone really fast. I don’t even really remember growing up. I had a good childhood. It was all fun and games, no responsibilities, just bullshitting around and getting into trouble, bonfires and drinking at a young age…playing with fire, basically. I dunno. Everybody looked at me like I was such a bad person, and I’m a really good person. I think I’m one of the best people that anybody could meet if you got to know me, but people just think I’m a bad guy, this awful person that’s so mean and violent.

“And I get that – I’ve done things for people to think that – but that’s not me. It’s not me. And then it became, like, I’m this bad guy? Okay, I’m a bad guy. If that’s what everybody’s gonna call me, that’s what I’m gonna be. I’m so awful, then that’s exactly what I’m gonna be: awful. That’s what you all see in me already, so what’s it matter if I actually become that person?

“And I started to act up and stuff, be erratic. I got heavily into drinking and became an alcoholic, and time just started flying by, getting into trouble, and then I ended up going into prison, and that was when my son was three weeks ago, and then just crazy ups and downs: things were really good and things were really bad, and it never felt like there was an in-between.

Where was your father in all of this?

“I was adopted, and since I was adopted at eight months old, by my mother who I have today, who I consider my blood, she never had a man, as far as I know. She has a biological son, my brother Elliot, but I never met his father and I’ve never had a father-figure in my life other than my brother, who is twenty. We’re complete opposites: he’s straight-edge, likes sports, does good, I guess I should say. He doesn’t do any drugs or alcohol. He’s got his life together, and he’s always been like that, so we never really connected or clicked, but he’s always tried to help me and show me the right way and stuff.

“My mother feels like she failed, and my brother feels like he failed as a brother, but I tell my mother constantly, ‘You didn’t fail. You raised me really well and respectful and this that and the third. If anything, I let you down. It’s out of your control. I’m my own person. I am who I am. I’m a good person but I’m rebellious in lots of ways. I don’t like authority over me, at all. I like to do me and live my life.’

“So being in jail was obviously hard, given the fact that you have authority over you 24/7. Hospitals and all that. I think that’s part of why I hate the system, I hate authority types, but who doesn’t really hate the system? I can’t speak for other people, but it’s not my fault that they do what they do. Nobody would hate them if they didn’t act the way they acted and do the things they do, so I can look at that both ways: Okay, maybe people think I’m a bad dude because of the things I did, but really, you don’t know me, behind the scenes. You don’t know how good of a person I am. You don’t know me inside my heart.

“With the system, there’s no behind the scenes; it’s clear. If you’ve been in it, if you’ve seen it, if you’ve experienced it, the corruption is real. Damn, if you’re not gonna like somebody, have a reason. I don’t not like somebody or something ‘cause of something I hear, or even something I think. I’m past opinions with this. The system is corrupt. It’s known. We’re built off corruption, though, but to answer your question, no, I didn’t grow up with a father.”

Did you experience any adversity, would you say, as a child, or trauma, or grief, aside from losing your uncle? Any abuse or bullying?

“Bullying, yes. Being poor, living around a bunch of kids who were born with gold spoons in their mouth and given everything. I see kids younger than me driving around in $80,000 cars, $40,000 trucks, and they think they’re cool and all the females like them and stuff, but they’re not really men. They’ve had everything handed to them, but I don’t wanna get off subject.

“Yeah, I mean, being kinda poor has been hard. People bullying me because, I dunno, ridiculous things, saying I’m ugly or saying messed up stuff. I actually had a snowboarding accident where I smashed my teeth and broke my jaw, and I broke all my teeth, and people made fun of me. That was hard. A lot of bullying there. And then I kinda stood up for the kids who were bullied and getting into fights in school.

“I mean, there’s tons of traumatic experiences. I was in a children’s center – it’s called the Children’s Center of Hamden – a residential where there were – talk about corruption – disgusting human beings, the way they went about their business. I’ve been physically assaulted by staff. I’ve literally had a case opened on this, but magically had my whole file and everything lost. Magically, there was no incident report. That was traumatic.

“I remember when the staff beat me, I escaped from the residential and I ran across the street, and there’s another building, and they were chasing me, and I remember I went around the back and I went to fire escape and I went up it, four stories. It was four stories high. He chased me up the fire escape, and when I was standing at the edge of the railing, watching him, and he’s like ‘Nowhere to go now,’ – that’s how disgusting of a person he was. Nowhere to go now. And I jumped off the fourth fire escape onto the roof of a minivan, and I didn’t break nothing, but I just laid there, really hurt. They kinda peeled me off the minivan and dragged me back. There was no incident report on that.

“Teachers have always done me wrong. My mother could tell you that. She doesn’t like the school systems, period. They don’t know mental health. They don’t know how to teach, really. They don’t understand certain things. They do people like me, in the system, very dirty. There’s no understanding, no respect for situations, and I wasn’t too crazy in school – yeah, I had some fights here and there, and suspensions – but that school has always been traumatizing. I’ve never liked school.

“I didn’t graduate high school because – matter of fact, I got expelled from school, and I went to an alternative school called High Roads in Wallingford, and I was in the school for about a year, half year, whatever. I came home one day and my mother had tears in her eyes, tears of joy. She was so happy. She said, ‘I’m so proud of you. I’m so happy. This school is working for you. The smaller classrooms are working. I’m so happy.’ And I’m like, ‘What do you mean?’ And she’s like, ‘Your report card. You got all A’s and all B’s. You really are doing so well in this school.’ And I broke down in tears, not tears of joy, though. Tears of sadness. Morally, I couldn’t do it. I said to her, ‘Ma, I didn’t do anything in school. I sit in class and draw and play on the computer all day. I do nothing. School is corrupt. They just give me A’s and B’s. I’ve never lifted a finger since I got into that school. They just pass you on through high school.’ And she was like, ‘What?’ And then she started to cry. ‘I can’t believe this.’

“The next day, I walked into the school, and I walked right out. I’m not going to school anymore; I’m done, and I walked right out. For the same reasons that I don’t condone the golden spoon, having things handed to you, I walked out of that school. I could have a high school diploma right now, just for sitting around, but that’s not how I want to get there.

“If somebody handed me a brand-new car right now, of course I’d take it, but I would not appreciate that car as much having it handed to me than if I worked – and worked hard – for it. That’s how I want to do things. That’s how I’m gonna do things. Don’t want it handed to me. I’m gonna put in the work. If I work hard and make it to the top, then I came from the bottom to the top helping myself by putting the work in and the help of others, and the people who are good in this world, with the help from them, if I fall flat on my face, I’m gonna get back up. If I keep falling flat on my face for the rest of my life and I never make it to the top, then so be it. At least I can say I never had it all just handed to me.

“These are values that people need to experience, so even if I’m a millionaire when I’m older, yeah, do I wanna spoil my child? Of course, but I’m not gonna hand him everything. He’s gonna work. He’s gonna know what it’s like to be – not to be dragged through the mud – he’s gonna know �� he’s gonna be a man. You can’t be molded into a man if you are not – if you are just given everything, you’re not gonna be molded into a man. You can’t be.

“This world thrives off of ignorance; everyone is ignorant. It thrives off of ignorance and corruption. I’m a small part where I try to change that. I try to change that. I don’t fight over stupid, petty, little things. People get shot for somebody stepping on somebody’s shoe. I’ve had fights in jail because of a drop of water on the sink. A drop of water – when I was washing my hands, a drop of water on the edge of the sink. I didn’t wipe the sink down when I was done, or something. Very, very small things. Things I had to fight for, but I literally was disgusted with myself that I had to fight over such a petty thing.

“So all that has made me stronger today, all this trauma in my life. There are a lot of situations, man. It’s all really brought me to this point where a strong person today but it knocks me down a little bit every time I do see the corruption and I feel weak because I am, as a single person, quite powerless to a whole system. I see it, and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s nothing I can do about it. But it’s their loss, my gain. If somebody doesn’t see it or they don’t wanna acknowledge it, or in they’re in denial or whatever the situation is, it’s your loss, my gain, and I’m not saying like, ‘Screw you, you don’t wanna see it’ – no. I still try to help, and I feel bad ‘cause I’m still a good person at heart. I’m a good man. I sympathize, ‘cause I’m like, you know what? It’s not even their fault. They’re just type products of the government. They’re just really grew up with so much TV, with so much technology, computers – they really just don’t understand. I dunno, man.”

What have some of the low points in your life been, besides being incarcerated?

“Right now, I can’t see my son, and that’s been the lowest point because I still have yet to see my son because, unfortunately, one of my charges was a domestic charge, not against my son, of course, but his mother – and I’m not proud of that. I hate myself for that, and that’s something I can never rub off. One of my issues is I can forgive other people, but I can’t forgive myself. I can’t seem to rub that off my conscience, the fact that I put my hands on a woman. It’s the first and last time I’ll do that.

“But that sums up why I have a restraining order. It’s gonna be over in March; I’m sitting and waiting it out. I can’t wait till I can be reunited with my son, but that, out of everything, the heart. It’s all the heart, like, do to my body what you want. I mean, growing up, being thrown into hospitals and this, that, and the third, yeah, it hurt my heart a little bit, but I had no responsibilities. What does it matter to me, really? Yeah, it sucked, and I was exposed to a lot of shit I shouldn’t have seen, but out of everything, that hits my heart the most, not seeing my son and not being able to be there.

“It’s not just my body with the hospitalizations, obviously; it hurt my heart and it bucked my head up a little bit, but in comparison, I gained from all that. I became stronger from all that. I kept gaining from all of that. This situation is a little different. I’m losing. As far as my son, I’m losing. This time, I’m not getting it back. If, right now, he’s doing something funny or talking or something, how can I rewind that? I can’t get that. I mean, I guess I can come a little stronger when I move forward from this, but still, in a way, I’m losing. I dunno how to break it down.

“I wish I didn’t see the world. Sometimes I wish I was…like a lot of other people in this world. I wish I was just blind to all this stuff. I wish I was ignorant to corruption – I wish I was just blind to it; I wish I never seen it. Sometimes I feel like that, because these people walk around and it doesn’t hit their hearts. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have such a good heart. Sometimes I wish my heart was just small and I was a cold person because everything really, a lot of things, really hurt me. I wish I could look at the news and hear specific things and go along with it like everybody else.

“When they were talking about that plane that crashed in the ocean and they couldn’t find the plane, I wish I could be that person going, ‘Damn, wow, I hope they find it.’ But no – instead I’m the person who says the damn truth, how we can split an atom, we’ve been to the moon, as far as we know as civilians, and you can’t find a plane? We have had black box receivers since WWII, specifically designed for that exact scenario, which now they put in every single one, but you can’t find the plane in the ocean? You should be able to find that plane with a snap of the fingers. We have facial recognition. If I murdered somebody, and they wanted to find me? They could catch me on a facial recognition in Walmart somewhere in Arizona, and it would run through a computer and say it was me, but you can’t find…?

“Sometimes I wish I was the person who didn’t notice that. I wish I could see them unloading the cigarettes out of the back of a plain, unmarked box truck and say, ‘Oh, they’re delivering cigarettes.’ But instead I look at it like, huh, that’s how the world is right now, they have to not mark trucks because they’re afraid of people robbing trucks for cigarettes, for tobacco, which I’m a victim of – I smoke tobacco all the time. I’m highly addicted to the 700 chemicals that have no business being in a cigarette. I mean…sometimes I wish I was that guy, because believe me, it’s a lot to carry on my shoulders, to be able to look everywhere and be able to look most places, I really do see sad, sad things.

“Why can’t I say hello to a stranger, and this doesn’t hurt me personally, but where are the common courtesies in society? I grew up in a generation where there were never any common courtesies in this society, but somehow, I have morally in me, I have wisdom somehow, where I just think it’s so strange. ‘How are you doing?’ ‘Hi, how’s it going?’ Nowadays, I feel like if I say, ‘How’s it going?’ I’m gonna get a ‘Fuck you.’ Some of the looks have clearly said it.

“I asked somebody for a lighter; he just looked and gave me the dirtiest look. It wasn’t ‘Hey, you got a lighter?’ It was, ‘Excuse me, sir, do you have a light I could borrow?’ Just gave me a dirty look. I didn’t let it really bother me, but that’s another sad thing.

“Is it that person’s fault, or does that person think that if he lets me use his lighter, I’m gonna run off with it? Cause that’s neither his fault nor mine, if he thinks that. People ruin it for other people. You gotta do good, so people start to realize that it’s not all like that. When people ruin it for other people, then people lose trust in society, and without trust, you have nothing. You have no relationship without trust. You have no connection, no network, no community. You have no community, you have no society – you just have a bunch of people who think the next person is gonna stab them in the back. That’s not healthy. I wish I didn’t notice all that shit sometimes.”

What helps you cope with that situation where you are aware of those things and you feel powerless? How do you cope with that?

“I don’t believe in ‘killing with kindness’, but I believe ‘change them with kindness.’ For instance, a scenario where somebody says something rude or disrespectful – oh, perfect example! – just the other day, I’m getting on the bus, and I’m putting my bus pass into the little machine and the lady’s yelling me, ‘Just keep on moving, keep on moving! Keep going!’ And I’m like, ‘But my card is still in it. She did something and it pushed the card back up, and she’s like, ‘Hurry the fuck up. People are trying to get on the bus.’ I was like, ‘You have a beautiful day.’ I look at that like a coping skill, because I feel better about her. That’s how I deal. That’s how I cope with how somebody was acting in that situation. That’s how I coped with how she was acting, because I get a type of closure by saying that; maybe it clicks in her head – or somebody’s, in any scenario – where they can be like ‘Oh, wow, alright’ and they check themselves a little bit. ‘I was so mean to that person and they were very kind to me. I’m gonna work harder on not doing that.’ You know?

“I’m not perfect; nobody is, and if they tell you so, then you’ve definitely got a liar on your hands. I’ve been rude. I’ve lost my cool. Of course. I’m a human being, but it’s not who I am and I recognize it’s not the path to a productive society. 90% of the time, when I’m rude, or I act in some way, I get out of my character because someone else is coming at me in a type of way. It’s no excuse. It’s wrong of me. I’ve gotta check myself too, sometimes. That’s what happens to people: You become different.

“Sometimes people become sour in the pit of them because of how everybody else is around them, things you’ve gone through, and you get this ‘Aw, fuck it,’ attitude. Like I had when I was younger. I was a good dude, and I still am that person today, but everybody thought I was bad, so I thought, ‘Alright, I’ll be bad.’ You want bad? I’ll show you.

“You can’t let people change who you are, no matter what the situation, because now if I turn into a rude person or an asshole, if I give up on all these common courtesies, then the next person that’s good, a good hearted person like me, could do the same thing, and the same thing, and the same thing, and before you know it, the whole world is gonna be like that. Why would I deprive this world of how good of a person I am? Why deprive this world of something good? I ain’t ever gonna change. I have my moments; everybody does. But at the end of the day, I ain’t ever gonna change. People who know me best could tell you I got a heart of gold.

“And it’s a reverse effect, too. I wanna mention that. When people around you are acting all sour and mean, and you start to get sour and pity you, you just start to act. Now imagine the reverse: Be nice. Be respectful. Common courtesies. Whatnot. You know what to do as a person, and as a fellow neighbor, and then it’s gonna rub off on them, and then they’re gonna be happy. You help them out, they help you out, and then they start to help other people out, and then those other people pay it forward.

“It goes both ways, though. You wanna be mean and nasty to people? Most of the time, you get it back. It’s not an excuse, it’s not acceptable – I’ve been there, too, believe me it’s hard – it’s hard to be like, ‘You have a good day, too.’ Just fall back. We’re moving too quick in life. Relax. I’m talking to myself when I say that, because I’m moving too quick, and when I fall back and I relax, I can think clear and when I do all that, I’m not the person behind the wheel of the bus, rushing somebody else, being disrespectful. Maybe even just say, ‘Excuse me, could you talk to me a little bit nicer?’

“What do people think, they’re soft, just to be respectful? If you’re not respectful – you’re not tough to fight over stupid shit. You’re not a man at all – you’re not a woman at all – to fight over petty, small things. I wish I could be one of the people, sometimes, that think, ‘Oh, I’m a big, tough guy. You step on my shoe and I’m gonna –’ I don’t judge people for their backgrounds, but a lot of people say that a man who is dangerous, who would harm somebody over something small, like being in jail, there are people like, ‘Yo, don’t go near that dude. If you do one little thing wrong, he’s gonna fuck you up. He’s a real dude. He’s a real, real, official person. He’s the toughest of the tough.’

“How is that tough? How are you real? How are you a man? If somebody steps on my shoe – I can’t even imagine having an issue with that. I don’t care if they were million dollar shoes or whatnot. It was an accident. How can you be mad at somebody for an accident? If that’s the case, you might as well start smacking around a five-year-old kid when he spills milk. That’s just an example, but you can’t blame somebody for an accident. Come on. Mistakes happen. You feel me? Misunderstandings happen. Mistakes happen.

“If you make a mistake, wouldn’t you want somebody to understand? Nobody wants to get shot over accidentally scuffing somebody’s shoe. Surely their family or their mother or father doesn’t deserve to lose their child or husband or father, whatever, over something so ridiculous. You’re not tough, and I will refuse to this day to fight out here in the world.

“Believe me, when you’re locked in a 4 x 8 cell, and you’ve got a grown-ass man trying to fight you, it doesn’t matter if it’s because you used his pen without asking or how petty it is, it’s an whole different environment, a whole different world in there.

“Out here in the world, you’re not gonna let somebody just beat you up. You can walk away from that. You don’t have to do it. You’re not proving nothing. There’s a lot of people out there like me that look at that kind of stuff and look at you like you’re an idiot. Why do you want to find over that stuff? What kind of insecurity do you have in you that you have to protect your pride or something? It’s over my head; it’s past me, and it’s out of my control. I want to change something that in reality isn’t realistic by myself. I need other people in this society to just get along. It makes me so mad. It really makes me sick.

“Just slow down for a minute and listen and look. Listen to a lot of music and how a lot of things the music says is subliminally telling you things about this system. I’ll quote Eminem. He said, “So who do you thinks bringing guns in this country? I couldn’t get a plastic pellet gun through customs in London.” What do you think that really says? It’s true. Who do you think’s bringing the drugs in this country, the guns? Who do you think is doing this? What do you think a project really is? What do you think that experiment is and why do you think they act the way they act? Why do you think the ignorance thrives the way it does? The disease and STDs and drugs and gangs, why do you think it’s like that? It’s literally a project. Why do you think these little areas are so different from each other, cause they’re close knit, little – I don’t wanna get into all that. But open your eyes and look at a lot of things, you’re gonna see stuff that you might wish you didn’t see. Sometimes I wish I didn’t see it, but still, I’m glad I do, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t know to be ashamed of myself or that I’m an idiot; I’d think I was a genius, whatever. I’d be blind.

“I still smoke cigarettes, though, and I know these things are bad, but you know what? I don’t know what chemicals they put in these things, but let me tell you, it’s good stuff. It’s really addicting.”

What have you learned about yourself through these years of experiences you’ve had?

“First, I wanna apologize – I just feel like I can’t talk a lot, like I ramble on and I talk too much.”

Don’t apologize for that. I’d be willing to bet that you probably don’t have very many people in your life who are willing to sit down and listen.

“Yeah. Well, they’re not like me, really. They do listen, but they kinda think it’s crazy stuff; they don’t really see it the way I see it. They’re good people, and they’re nice people, and I consider them good people – they just don’t see it like I see it, but they’re not ignorant and they try to understand. But what was it that you asked?”

What have you learned about yourself over the years?

“I’ve learned that I’m… Hm. I learned that I can’t just drink one drink of alcohol, and for some reason, if I drink, I just have to keep drinking, and I’m an alcoholic. I really am. That’s an important thing that I’ve learned.

“I’ve learned that – that’s a tough question. I learned about myself. I think that I’ve hurt the people closest to me because I feel like it’s safest because I felt like they would never leave, and that’s not right. I’ve definitely learned that about myself. My depression and things throughout my life and issues get channeled and filtered out onto them over other things that really otherwise don’t have to do with them. So, learning that with myself, I can have more understanding for a lot of society and how they act, and it makes it easier to forgive them and understand where they’re coming from.

“I learned I can’t really be anybody other than who I am. I can’t, no matter how much I try, man. I can’t be anybody other than who I am, as much as I’ve tried to do so. I’m still adaptable – I can adapt to things, but at the same time, I’m not changing who I really am. I’m just adapting to certain situations or places or people, but I’m never gonna be somebody other than me, no matter how much somebody wants me to be somebody else, or no matter how much I wish to be somebody else. It don’t work like that.

“I learned how precious time is. Time is so precious; it’s the most precious thing we have, because you can never get it back. You can never go back. I wanna cry, yo, that shit drives me crazy. But you can’t. So once you go there, better yet, before you go there, remember you can’t turn it back. You can’t turn it back.

“Words hurt, too. That’s one thing I learned. Words hurt more than anything physical done. Words hurt the most because you could say something that you don’t even mean, but once you say it, it hurts the person just as much as if you meant it. You can hurt somebody so badly, but words don’t only hurt the other person – they hurt you too, because if you don’t mean the things you say, then the other person feels, no matter how much you say you don’t mean what you said, it still hurts, man. It still hurts. And that’s the most confusing, hurtful feeling when you hurt somebody else with your words and then you didn’t mean it. No taking it back. Once they’re out there, they’re out there. I dunno, man, this shit’s hard.”

If you could back as the man that you are today and say something to your younger self before a lot of this stuff happened, what would you say to that young man? To that boy?

“Wow. That’s a tough one. I would say to him – I really don’t know, because there are contradictions in what I could say to him. By that I mean: what I would say isn’t gonna change the fact that – I’d say focus on – take one day at a time. Don’t overthink things. Don’t think too far into the future. Just relax, and know that nothing is permanent. The pain is not permanent. Just focus on your health, mental and physical, and honestly, I’m not too sure that’s a very difficult question. I don’t know what I would say.”

Would you tell him you loved him?

“Yeah, I would tell him I loved him, ‘cause I love myself. Stop. Don’t take things to heart. Don’t take everything to heart. But still, that’s a difficult question. I’m not sure how I would answer it, or if I can.”

Is there a quote or lyric or something that someone’s ever said to you that resonates with you that you’d like to share?

“Yes, there is. The quote is, ‘Just ‘cause it means nothing to you doesn’t mean that it doesn’t mean the world to somebody else.’”

What does that mean to you?

“It means: have consideration for how other people feel, because though they might feel a certain way about something and it doesn’t click with you or mean anything to you, understand that, to them, it means everything. Just an example – your work that you do, I could look at like – which I don’t – but I could look at it and say it doesn’t really mean anything to me. It’s no big deal. It’s nothing.

“But this is your calling. This is your life. This is your passion. So I would never insult that because I hypothetically felt like that just ‘cause I didn’t see the importance in it. To you, it’s everything. I’m not gonna say something like that and potentially break your heart and make you feel a type of way about your entire life.

“When it means everything, there are a lot of things in my life I’ve been told and I didn’t think anything of it. Don’t do this, don’t do that. Blah blah blah. It didn’t mean anything to me. I shrugged it off, this, that, and the third. But now I realize how important that was to the other person, the simplest things.

“And you’re gonna feel real bad if you say something to somebody just ‘cause you don’t see it like that, and that person is somebody that you love, and you don’t see it the way they see it, you’re gonna really regret it for the rest of your life if you hurt them enough for them to up and leave. Then you’re gonna be sitting there like, “But why? But why?”

“Why? Because you’re not understanding that this means the world to somebody. It doesn’t mean something to you? That doesn’t matter. People have pets that mean the world to them, but then people have pets that they beat. There’s a big difference there. I could talk badly about something that somebody would die for. Maybe they’d kill for. Maybe I’m talking badly about something that somebody would kill for, and it just means nothing to me, but they would kill for it, and I end up getting killed.

“I’m talking about real stuff, though, not materialistic things, because I want to make sure there’s no misunderstanding in thinking there’s a contradiction, because believe me – cause I talked about stepping on somebody’s shoe and getting shot – but there are contradictions everywhere, and misunderstandings, and corruption, but at the same time, it’s just different. I’m not gonna say, ‘Oh it means the world to me that you’re my slave. It means the world to me that you do everything.’ That’s manipulating and taking advantage, and you can easily do that, but it’s different. I could say it means the world to me when you do this and I say to do that and this and that and that, and if you don’t want to, then, you know, I’m done. The person doesn’t have to understand that or anything.

“I think I over-explain things. I have put so many years into thinking about this stuff and been through so much to be privileged enough to see this type of stuff that I don’t think people don’t understand – but they do understand – so I try to break it down. I over-explain it. I explain it more than I really should, but I think that it’s clear what I’m saying.”

When I was taking your photograph when we started this interview, you showed me some scars on your chest, and you have some on other places of your body. Do you want to tell me about those?

“Yeah. I’ve got these when I was in jail. The breakup was really hard and I was going through a lot, and it was really painful. I didn’t ever wanna forget where I was and what I was going through, and what happened to me, and the hurt, so I cut into my chest ‘Love’ on one side and “Hate” on the other, and then a heart in the middle that was split, that had a cut down the middle, that was dripping blood between the ‘Love’ and the ‘Hate.’ Just so I could always remember that pain, and I could grow from it, but also so I could remember to not allow anybody to put me there, put me through that pain again – which isn’t healthy, I know. It wasn’t healthy to do; it was just my release at the time.

“I also put this on my hand. I have a scar that I just loved the person so much that I carved their name into me, so it would be forever, ‘cause it felt like a scar is forever. I could get a tattoo, but there’s a reason it’s a scar. There’s a reason. It’s not just a tattoo, even though a tattoo is essentially a scar. Literally, when I say this, it’s literal, but imagine it metaphorically: this person is engraved into my body, cut into me, a part of me, but it’s not just a metaphor, it’s literal. I do like tattoos, though. I plan on getting a lot in the future.”

Do you still cut today? Do you cut just for the purpose of cutting to relieve pain, or is it always some sort of name or word or design?

“No. When I have cut, it’s always been a name, word, or design, but to date, no, I haven’t cut anything into me. I realize it’s kinda unhealthy and whatnot. I don’t know if I’d ever do it again. Maybe. It depends. It’s very unique, serious situations where it’s not meaningless. If I had tattoos all over my body… If I have cuts all over me – I do have cuts all over me, not all from me, though, like scars. If I had names and random stuff all over me, it would be meaningless. The fact that there have only been three times in my life where I’ve done three different things: One was for my uncle Frank, FB for Frank Beretta.

“This right here, on my hand, which I’m not gonna name, just to be safe – my uncle Frank is different. They’re cool. They’re family – this, because I love the person so much. This was not all pain, not unhappy, not depressed. This was because the one that I loved – aside from my family, obviously – my ex-fiancé, my son’s mother, she really, really hurt me. Bad. And I didn’t wanna forget how she hurt me, and I didn’t wanna let myself forget it, because I had made that mistake before and didn’t want to make it again.

“The love is really crazy sometimes, and it’s hard to deal with. To this day, I have not been with anybody else since I met her three and a half years ago. I don’t know why I can’t really move or do anything or be with anyone else. I don’t think I’ll stay single for the rest of my life; that’s not realistic. I can’t imagine doing that.

“But there’s a good example of how passionate, how big my heart is, how serious I take things. I’m loyal. I’ve been loyal even when I’m not with the person still. I love her. I’ve had girls hit on my sometimes, obviously, like I’m not an ugly dude. I consider myself a handsome guy. And my son’s mother is gorgeous, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life to date. She does modeling stuff. So as much as I could have insecurities – people growing up calling me ugly for some reason and stuff – they all stopped when they realized the prettiest girl – that’s my opinion I guess – but one of the most beautiful girls in the world – if you ever seen her, you’d know what I’m saying – actually thinks I’m handsome and attractive, and thinks I’m a good person as well.

“So clearly what I’m saying is I’m not dirt ugly and I’m not a bad person; it’s not about looks anyway. It’s about who you are on the inside. As good of a person as I am, I’ve had girls hit on me and stuff, but I never entertained it. Just not ready, I guess.”

How has it felt to talk about these feelings and experiences with me today?

“It feels good to talk about it. It definitely feels good to talk about it. It feels better, I guess, but something I never really talk about. I feel good because I’m able to help you further your work, and maybe I can help somebody else. Hopefully I can help somebody else. I just wish or want or whatever the word would be – people to know that it’s not – one, I’m not a bad person, even though I felt like I was ‘cause everybody else told me I was. Other people aren’t really bad people just because people say they are or whatnot.

“I dunno. It feels good I guess. People are still gonna think I’m a bad person. People are still gonna do what they do – be judgmental and say shit – but what can I say? They’re entitled to however they want to feel. They feel how they feel; they think what they think, whether it’s based off of nothing or one thing, and then they think they have you completely figured out. That’s it. But you’ll never completely figure out somebody else. You’ll never have somebody else completely figured out no matter how much you know them, and you know yourself pretty well, I imagine, and you can never really know yourself. So how can you judge yourself or anybody else? See, what I’ve said in this, if you read into it, it’s not so much I’m judging other people. I just see these small issues that are only leading toward bigger things, and they’re not really flaws in the person, exactly, but flaws in society and our idea of productivity. It’s to help. Call it constructive criticism, or whatever you want. My goal is not call anybody an asshole, or this, that, and the third, or call anybody ignorant; it’s just to show little character traits, even in myself, giving examples in my own stories, where we need to work on this stuff, ‘cause we’re screwed if we don’t.”