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queenshelby · 3 years ago

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INTO SILENCE – PART SIX

A QUIET PLACE 2 FANFIC

Featuring: Emmett x Reader x Others

Words: 3,335

Warnings: Pregnancy, Smut, Supernatural Themes, Angst, Illness

SPOILER WARNING – If you haven’t seen A Quiet Place Part 2, this part might have some spoilers!

***It’s a boy/girl****

After your encounter with Emmett’s brother, you were being processed by one of the female soldiers at the camp.

She asked you many questions, wanting to know whether you ever killed someone and why and whether you had been charged with any criminal offenses before the invasion.

She then went on to ask you some more personal questions, about your brothers and about the child you were carrying.

You explained to her that the baby was Emmett’s child and, just as you did, you broke out in tears. You knew that he might not survive his injuries and you were frightened, wanting to spend all the time you could with him, by his side.

You explained to the woman that Emmett had promised your father to get you and the baby to the camp safely so that his grandchild can have a better life. That’s why you made the journey.

After all that you had been through, you didn’t want to lose Emmett but you knew that his chances weren’t good. His brother had told you.

‘Listen, I think we are done here. You seem like an honest person Y/N. I would like to run some medical checks and then I will take you to the infirmary, alright?’ the woman suggested and you agreed with a quick a nod.

You followed the woman to the medical facilities where you saw Jackson sitting in the waiting room. There was no sight of Jonathan, Marie or Sean.

The woman then escorted you upstairs into a small dark room where she spoke to one of the nurses who had just arrived.

‘I cannot believe that you have medical staff here’ you said surprised and the nurse advised you that there are only one doctor and three nurses, one of whom was a vet nurse before the invasion.

‘I do have some training as a midwife, from before, so I was asked to have a look at you and your baby’ the woman then said with a warm smile before asking you to take a seat.

She proceeded to ask you about your medications and when you told her about them, she took in a sharp breath.

‘We don’t have any of these on site and your pregnancy…’ the woman went on to say and you interrupted her.

‘I know. I have enough medication until I am about 34 weeks. This was all I could find in the different pharmacies that I have visited’ you explained.

‘This is a high-risk pregnancy; you do understand this right?’ the woman then said and you nodded again.

‘Right. Does the father of the child know about your condition?’ she then went on to ask and you immediately broke out in tears again, shaking your head. You never told Emmett about your health and how the pregnancy might affect you.

The woman inhaled sharply again before taking your blood pressure and conducting a general medical examination before disappearing into another room.

‘Now let’s look at the baby, shall we?’ the woman said as she returned, pushing an ultrasound machine into the room.

You were surprised by the equipment and the woman quickly explained that this was all they had, a simple machine.

You lifted up your shirt, exposing your small baby bump before you felt the cool jelly being squirted onto your stomach.

Together with the nurse, you looked at the screen of the ultrasound machine and there it was, your baby, wiggling around happily in your tummy.

The baby’s heartbeat was strong. You were about 17 weeks and, in so far as the nurse could tell, everything looked fantastic.

‘It is a little bit early and don’t quote me on this as I could be wrong, but do you want to know what you are having?’ the woman asked and you nodded eagerly, tears running down your face.

‘A boy…you are having a little boy’ the woman said pointing to the obvious little indication of the baby’s gender on the screen.

You thanked the nurse for her time and she was kind enough to print out a photo from the machine for you which you could take to the infirmary which was where you went next.

The nurse accompanied you downstairs and to the room where Emmett was in. He was in a coma and his breathing was supported by a simple oxygen machine.

You began to cry again as soon as you saw him, covered in large white bandages across his chest and right arm.

His left arm was hooked up to a blood transfusion and his brother sat next to him, starring across the room with empty eyes.

‘He’s having a transfusion?’ you asked surprised as Sean had earlier told you that they couldn’t determine Emmett’s blood group with the equipment they had available and that they had no o-negative blood left.

‘Your brothers have given blood. They are both o-negative, just like you’ Sean explained and you let out a sigh of relief.

‘So, he will be fine?’ you asked but Sean just shuck his shoulders. He couldn’t answer your question but, with the blood transfusion, his chances were much better than before.

‘We have put him on a blood transfusion and morphine. I am slowly lowering the dosage allowing him to regain consciousness, I guess. But he’s been out for a while, so I don’t know’ Sean explained.

‘Do you want me to take over?’ you asked and Sean nodded, explaining to you what you needed to do.

‘I know, I was half way through my medical degree before the invasion. I’ve got this’ you explained.

‘You will be a good resource for the camp then’ Sean said as he got up and let you take a seat next to Emmett.

You immediately leaned over Emmett, kissing his forehead and holding onto his hand as you sat down.

Your actions caught Sean by surprise. He still didn’t know what the relationship was between you and Emmett.

‘The baby…is it my brother’s?’ Sean asked carefully, not wanting to insult or upset you as you were clearly much younger than Emmett.

‘It’s boy and, yes, he is Emmett’s son’ you said with a warm smile.

‘I did not expect that’ Sean said surprised, causing you to chuckle as you wiped your tears away.

‘I love him so much and I need him to fight. We both do’ you said with a deep sigh before starting to cry again.

‘Well, he’s a fighter and now that I know that he’s got plenty to live for I have a good feeling’ Sean said as he handed you a tissue, causing you to nod and smile briefly. Sean thought that Emmett was on his own, having lost Nora and his son. But now, having a child with you, this changed everything.

Sean left shortly thereafter, allowing you some privacy with Emmett.

You adjusted his medication down as per the schedule and then began talking to him, telling him about his son inside of you and how strong he is. His heart was beating fast and he was growing well.

You loudly fantasised about what he might look like and how he will be smart and strong with Emmett’s blue eyes and full lips.

‘He needs you, Emmett. He needs his father. I need you too’ you whispered as you rested your head on the uninjured side of his chest.

Just as your head was resting against him, listening to his heartbeat, you could feel his arm besides you twitch gently.

You scooted up, sitting down and observing the movement of his arm and hand. One twitch was quickly followed by another.

‘Emmett?’ you asked as you could see his fingers move and listen to the sound of his breath change.

But he didn’t answer you and you held onto his hand tightly, his fingers moving slightly against your palms until, more suddenly, you could feel his hand grip onto one of yours.

‘Emmett’ you sobbed, hearing him take in a deep breath through the oxygen mask as if he was trying to get it off and away from his face.

Then his entire arm moved, his breathing became heavier and you could see that he was trying to reach for the mask but couldn’t quite get there himself.

You removed the mask quickly after ensuring that the oxygen monitor was still connected to his index finger and, as soon as you did, he let out a cough and inhaled sharply.

His eyes began to blink just as his breathing calmed back down and you caressed his face with both of your hands.

‘Emmett, please’ you whispered, your tears running down your face and onto his.

‘You are crying’ Emmett mumbled, barely auditable, as he felt a few of your tears run down his face and onto his lips.

‘Oh my god Emmett’ you cried, his words sending a smile across your face at the same time.

‘Don’t cry. It’s bad for the baby. He needs a happy mommy’ he mumbled, again barely audible as his arm reached for your back gently.

‘You know it’s a boy?’ you asked somewhat surprised, your smile widening.

‘Hmm yeah’ Emmett responded quietly as his eyes began to open very slowly, flickering open and shut.

‘You told me’ he mumbled, drowsy from the morphine and you couldn’t help but press your salty lips against his in a haste while your hands were still caressing his face gently.

‘I love you so fucking much, you know that?’ you asked, looking into his deep blue eyes as soon as your lips drifted apart.

‘I love you too’ Emmett whispered; his voice still strained.

He tried to move, but the pain was too intense and the machinery he was hooked up to prevented him.

‘I need to get your brother’ you said just before kissing him again, forgetting about being careful and causing Emmett to shriek in pain.

‘My brother?’ he asked quietly, still struggling to speak as his whole body was aching.

‘Yes, he is here. Your brother is here’ you smiled before giving him a kiss on his forehead and asking one of the others outside the room to get him for you.

As you were waiting for Sean, you told Emmett about the ultrasound and showed him the picture, causing him to smile for the first time and running his hand over your stomach.

***Recovery***

Emmett had spent about a week in the infirmary and today was the day where he could finally come home with you.

You had been assigned a small house within the community yesterday evening after spending the last few days in the community’s dorm facilities. It had three bedrooms and you were sharing it with your brothers, Marie and Emmett.

‘Well, we will get you cleaned up, I will dress your wounds again and then you are ready to go home’ the nurse said just as Emmett came back from the shower inside the medical facilities wearing the new pair of jeans his brother had given him.

This was the first time you saw the extent of Emmett’s injuries after the sutures had been placed and his right arm and chest were heavily scared, featuring a total of eight large claw marks from the creatures.

‘Home?’ Emmett chuckled. He knew nothing about the houses and facilities inside the community.

‘Well, brother, I had a room all set up for you in our little house but Y/N here insists that you stay with her’ Sean joked as the doctor evaluated Emmett once more before discharging him from the infirmary.

‘House? You’ve got a fucking house?’ Emmett said with surprise.

‘So do you. It’s not much and you have to share it with Y/N, her brothers and Marie, but it is a house’ Sean explained, causing Emmett to raise his eyebrows in disbelieve.

‘We even have a bed, hot water and a really cool kitchen with an oven’ you said with excitement.

‘A bed and an oven?’ Emmett said, still somewhat surprised and you nodded.

‘And, I have gotten you a little welcome present’ Sean said just after Emmett’s wounds had been dressed and he put on a t-shirt.

‘A razor?’ Emmett chuckled, causing Sean to smirk and point at Emmett’s beard.

‘Yeah, we won’t be needing that, thanks’ you said, taking the razor out of Emmett’s hand and handing it back to Sean.

‘It is getting a bit grey though’ Emmett said, looking into the mirror besides the medicine cabinet.

‘The beard is staying Emmett. I like it’ you winked.

‘You’ve heard her. She’s the boss’ Emmett said to Sean before you made your way back to where you were going to live.

***Welcome Present***

‘Welcome home’ you smiled as Emmett took a quick look around the house.

‘Where are your brothers and Marie?’ Emmett asked, noticing the silence in the small house.

‘At work’ you smiled.

‘Work?’ he asked curiously, unsure what you meant by that.

‘Jackson is working with the animals the community keeps, Jonathan is fixing the plumbing and Marie is working at the local veggie patch’ you explained.

‘So, we are on our own?’ Emmett smirked and you nodded eagerly.

‘Good’ he said before crashing his lips on to yours without warning.

The kiss was uncontrolled, wildly passionate and wickedly wanton, making your toes curl. His lips were hot, his taste like sweet sin as your tongue curled around his, responding just as wildly. You heard his groan, felt him hard against your stomach almost instantly, pressing into your softness.

‘You should rest’ you murmured, as his mouth pulled from yours, blazing a trail of lust down your slender throat.

‘I’ve been resting in the infirmary for a fucking week now’ Emmett chuckled before his hands ran over your breasts and his lips began to trail down your neck.

‘Oh Emmett, I fucking missed this’ you whispered.

‘We’ve got a bed now, so we might as well use it’ Emmett said just as he nibbled on your neck gently.

‘Hmm sounds perfect’ you moaned, his fingers pulling at the tie of your cotton dress as you guided him to the bedroom.

He walked you backwards until your thighs touched the bed and your cotton dress pooled at your feet, leaving you only in white cotton panties. Emmett stepped back, his eyes roaming over your slender curves, lingering on the round fullness of your breasts and your small baby bump.

In a haste, Emmett got undressed, ignoring the tenderness of his wounds before walking towards you, pressing his body against yours.

He groaned at the way you felt, your soft breasts pressing into his chest, his cock rubbing against the yielding flesh just beneath your stomach.

‘Touch me Emmett, please’ you begged, desperate for his touch. It has been so long.

‘Lie down’ he instructed, a smile running over his face and you complied with his request almost instantly.

His hands immediately found your legs, starting at your ankles, rubbing upward with gentle strokes. His fingers then found the sensitive flesh behind your knees, caressing you with tender touches. He bent his head, his lips finding the soft skin of your inner knee, moving upward until your legs were parted, his hands holding your thighs.

Then, finally, he hooked both of his index fingers into the hem of your cotton panties and pulled them down swiftly.

Before you knew it, one of his fingers stroked through your wetness, playing around your slick, yearning opening, teasing you with tiny flicks of his finger against the hard nub of your clit. Your body twisted under his hands, your fingers twining into the soft coverlet beneath your naked flesh. Emmett heard your whimpers and tiny cries, let them wash over him as the pleasure he created washed over you.

He bent his head, his lips traveling towards your treasure until, finally, his tongue lapped at your sweet folds, pulling and suckling on your inner lips before finding your clit. He sucked gently upon the hard bud of nerves, listening as you keened your pleasure, the wet spendings that told of your ecstasy flooding his mouth.

‘I am glad I didn’t let you shave this beard off’ you moaned as you could feel the tingling from his soft hair in between your legs.

Emmett smiled against your mound as he continued to lick you, making love to you with his tongue.

Your hands were in his hair, your eyes closed, your face twisted in a grimace as he brought you to climax.

‘Oh god Emmett, yes’ you moaned loudly as your legs began to quiver almost instantly and you approached your high. There was no reason to stay quiet and you came louder than you ever did before.

‘Fuck’ Emmett growled, turned on by your moans as he kissed his way back up your body gently and it didn’t take him long to line himself up with your entrance, desperate to feel you.

He could feel the heat of your wetness against his cock and you cried out as he finally pushed in to you, stretching you so wonderfully, filling you slowly until you thought you’d go mad with the sensations.

Your hands caressed his chest gently, stroked his back and then slid down to his slowly moving buttocks and slipped over them.

Your mind was spinning with the pleasure he was thrusting into you, growling much louder than usual.

You could smell the scent of his skin mixed with the heady scent of arousal and sex that permeated the room.

Your body moved under him, your hands grasping and holding him, feeling your need spiral until you were jerking up against him, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even tighter. His lips found your, his tongue a wild flame inside your mouth and then he pulled away again, his eyes glittering as he stared down at you.

Emmett thrusted inside you, his cock plundering your depths even as you pushed against him. He heard the keening cry, felt your velvety wet sheath contract around him, the muscles milking his cock. Your hands were claws, your nails digging half moon welts into his back.

‘Oh my god Emmett, keep going, fuck yes’ you moaned as you could feel another climax approach you hard and fast and, just as you came, pleasure engulfed him too. Relief flooded him as he felt his cock swell and then rope after rope of hot cum shot deep inside of you. He held himself rigid above you, his body shaking with tension as he emptied himself.

And then he collapsed, barely holding his weight off you. His arms shook, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath and calm the racing of his heart.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked, worried that Emmett may have pulled a stitch or two.

‘Yes, I am now’ he chuckled as he lifted his head, feeling your hands stroking slowly down his back, gently, tenderly holding him.

‘Uhm, next time close the door’ you suddenly heard Jonathan say as he walked past. He still felt somewhat freaked out by the fact that you were involved with Emmett.

‘Sorry, it’s just…the heat of the moment you know’ you yelled out before scooting beneath the doona with Emmett.

‘That is so fucking disgusting. I don’t want to hear about it’ Jonathan said with a laugh before welcoming Emmett home.

But the security and comfort you were both feeling wasn’t meant to last very long and you knew that you had to talk with Emmett about your medical condition and the pregnancy, preparing him for the inevitable.

Tag List (Cillian):

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#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #a quiet place #a quiet place 2 #a quiet place fanfic #emmett x reader #emmett smut #Emmett #a quiet place part 2 #a quiet place imagine #a quiet place smut #a quiet place ii #a quiet place part ii

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sparrowmoth · 3 years ago

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More Than Survive • [AO3]

Teen | Drabble | Gen (Carlos-centric) | Angst & Fluff, Happy Ending

CW: References to parental abuse (non-graphic); implications of mental illness (unspecified), trauma, and intrusive thoughts; court room setting; pet death (euthanasia); and minor swearing.

When the day comes that Carlos finally gets the chance to take the stand against his mother in an Auradonian court, he does so with his palms damp from sweat, his legs like jelly, his heart in his throat—

Until he feels the bump of a wet nose and a weight on his thigh. He looks down into brown eyes, full of warmth, and the big, assuring smile of his emotional support dog. (Her name is Sunny, just how she looks.) She has her paw on his thigh to remind him she’s here—for today and any other he might be called back to court, she’s here.

He’s lucky to have her, and that’s thanks to Ben. He’d never say it to Carlos, but Carlos knows. He knows his mother is in another room, watching him from a webcam, because of Ben, too. It helps to have that distance from her, and it helps to have Sunny beside him—

And it helps to look up and see the faces of Mal, Jay, and Evie.

He can do this, he reminds himself. He can do this. He can do this.

○ ○ ○ ○

He can’t do this, he thinks on the day he says goodbye to Dude.

It takes everything in him just to let him go, physically—to leave the vet without feeling like he’s just like his mother. He’s done something wrong. God, he’s worse than his mother. He’s actually killed a dog.

That’s what it feels like, despite what they’re saying—

It was time for him to go. You did the right thing.

WHY DOESN’T IT FEEL LIKE THAT, THEN?

He cries himself to sleep on an empty bed.

○ ○ ○ ○

He cries again—and that’s significant, because he rarely does—when Anita and Roger, the very last people on earth he expects at his door just two weeks later, turn up with a puppy—a dalmatian puppy—

And—(god, oh god)—

(Did he hear them right?)

“She’s yours, if you’ll have her.”

“If you’re ready,” adds Roger with a sympathetic smile.

Sympathy for the devil, thinks some bitter part of Carlos; and oh, these people, if they only knew—if they only knew that part of him exists in the present. That he can’t just be grateful, can’t just… trust them—

“Are you sure?” he asks, because they can’t just trust him, either.

(He doesn’t believe that. He can’t believe that.)

But they’re smiling and nodding.

And he’s crying, like an idiot.

○ ○ ○ ○

Crying from laughter, because the puppy—his puppy—(Esperanza, he named her)—has picked up on his excitement over the letter he just opened. She’s jumped up on the couch and toppled him over, licking his face while her tail wags like a windmill. “A-Anza, s-stop!”

Oh, she’s a merciless thing.

She doesn’t stop her licking until Evie plucks her up with a giggle.

“What’s all the fuss in here?” she asks, before she sees the letter on the table. She glances at Carlos, sees his widening grin. “Did you…”

“I got in,” Carlos chokes out, eyes shining bright as Evie’s widen—

She holds his puppy up like baby Simba and squeals, “Did you hear that, Anza? Your daddy’s going to vet school! Aren’t you so proud?”

Esperanza’s cheerful barks and all the laughter in the room summon Mal and Jay from the backyard. They see the letter and they know, too. Jay’s tackling Carlos before he can hope to get away, and Mal, well—she smirks at Evie, who gives her a don’t you dare look just before Mal joins the dog pile, making Esperanza bark all the more—

When Evie sets her down, she can’t help but laugh.

Carlos’ puppy leaps back on the couch, clambering atop everyone with a victorious yip. She looks at Evie, wags her tail, and yips again.

“What, you’re not going to help him?” she teases the puppy.

Esperanza, as if in response to that, grabs a mouthful of purple hair and gives it a tug, growling playfully as Mal yelps in surprise—

Evie gasps out a laugh, moving in to scoop the puppy as the pile of bodies comes apart in a breathless landslide, with a red-faced Carlos winding up on the floor. His shirt has ridden up from where Jay and Mal have been tickling him, exposing scars from what seems to him these days, certainly these moments, like another life—

“You all suck,” he wheezes, but there’s laughter spilling out still.

He’s happy, and not for the first time, but it always feels like that somehow. He’s happy, and everything feels right—even though it’s not, even though it’ll never be, because everything can’t be perfect, but—it can be enough, he thinks. Yes. It is enough. And he is happy.

He’s so fucking happy.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated. <3

#descendants #carlos de vil #core four #descendants fanfiction #descendants drabbles #my fanfiction #my drabbles #my writing #descendants fandom #this is low-key a hate letter to d*$ney #I am feeling: mad #and also just sad #and I needed to write something so #idk I just started typing and this came out #still feeling mad but this helped

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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What do you think the greatest brotrayal of all time would be?

What?

Somewhat of a challenge, not sure I pulled it off, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :D

Thanks to @janetm74 @scribbles97 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment for various read throughs and cheerleading :D

Sorry, Scott :D

-o-o-o-

Scott glared at his brothers.

Virgil, John and Gordon stood in a line on the comms room hardwood floor all looking straight ahead as if they were in a military inspection. Which was particularly odd since only one of them had ever been in said military.

Hell, even his grandmother was ramrod straight beside them.

Scott was absolutely beside himself. Still dressed in his uniform, complete with its coating of mud, he had no doubt that his appearance was anything but reassuring to the brothers standing in front of him.

Not that he cared. This was beyond it all.

This was so ludicrous that it was hard to even suspect Gordon as the culprit.

Though he was still the most likely despite his arm being in a sling.

Scott eyed his fish brother. He had a scratch above one eyebrow that hadn’t been there when Scott left this morning.

But then a lot was different on Tracy Island since he left this morning.

The most obvious difference was the Thunderbird stuck at an angle where the pool was supposed to be.

His ‘bird was shining in the late afternoon light, her silver hull gleaming as she sat at a sixty-degree angle just beyond the balcony, her wings gouged into the concrete of the patio.

Virgil shifted where he stood on his crutches and Scott felt the briefest flash of guilt at making him stand there. His engineer brother had been grounded for the last week with a broken ankle, along with Gordon and his broken arm. Which is why Scott had been in Two today with the currently guilt free Alan.

His youngest brother stood off to one side, apparently caught between shock and relief that he wasn’t to blame.

“I’m waiting for an explanation.” For several things.

The room still reeked of burnt furnishings. Whatever had happened in the kitchen had left it black and under a haze of smoke that had infiltrated the villa.

As if to comment, John sneezed suddenly. His space brother sniffed and screwed up his face before he realised Scott was eyeing him. He, too, was standing on crutches, something he wasn’t doing this morning.

And still no-one said anything.

Not even Grandma, and honestly that was a kicker.

“Gordon-“

“What are you looking at me for?”

Scott shot him a flat stare. “History.”

“Hey, the last time I borrowed One, I brought her back in one piece.”

“Complete with Eau de Polecat!”

“That does not automatically put me at fault. Besides this was an emergency.”

Scott blinked. A little progress. “And?”

But Gordon clammed up and went back to staring at the portraits on the far side of the room, every bit the WASP Lieutenant Tracy he actually was.

Scott turned to John, his ever-faithful source of relevant information.

“J-“

“I’m sitting down.” John turned and crutched his way past Scott and into the sunken lounge without another word.

Scott stared after him.

“Honey, are you feeling okay?” His grandmother followed his space brother and began fussing over him and his leg, both completely ignoring Scott.

What the-? “How. Did. This. Happen?!” Okay, so he might be yelling just a little, but the cause was sufficient. He turned to his trusted first. His best friend. His brother. His Virgil.

Said brother was looking rather pale. “Virgil?”

Sad, dark eyes looked up at him. “I wanted to make you popcorn.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil was frustrated. Virgil was always frustrated when he was grounded and today sported no reason to change that attitude.

Worse, he had had to watch Scott take his ‘bird out to a mudslide. His big brother was not a fan of flying Two, but since Virgil had a busted ankle and Gordon an equally busted arm, that was the deal today.

To top it all off, mudslides sucked big time and Scott and Alan would likely come home exhausted, especially since two of their brothers were currently unavailable to assist.

So, to help just that little bit he had spent the last couple of hours hobbling around the kitchen slapping together something that could be considered a relaxing meal for that evening, vetoing any chance of Grandma getting into the kitchen and destroying stomach linings.

It helped that Grandma was in Wellington with Kayo.

To top it off, Virgil had put together an apple pie, Scott’s favourite. He had also made sure there was a bucket of triple chocolate ice cream in the freezer for Alan – one that he had stashed away for emergencies just like this.

The last thing on his list was to make some candy popcorn for the squirt and put some kernels aside ready for popping later so they would be nice and warm for the movie.

He was in the process of heating the oil when Gordon burst into the room as if out of nowhere.

Virgil to dropped a spoon.

Damn sandshoes were silent.

“Hubert’s dying!”

“What?” His back creaked as he picked up the piece of cutlery.

“Hubert, the albatross that collided with the window and broke his wing.”

“What albatross?” The oil began to smoke a little so he turned the heat off. His Gordon radar was at full alert – this would likely take a while.

“Yesterday? Upstairs? How did you not hear that?” A blink. “Okay, it was five am. You don’t exist before ten, I’m sorry.” The sarcasm was dripping and a little caustic. “Regardless, Hubert has gone limp and I think he’s dying, Virg. Help me please.” The accompanying clasped hands reminiscent of either prayers or vigorous begging, complete with a sling that wasn’t doing what it was supposed to, were a little over the top.

“Okay. Fine. Show me the patient.” He reached over and nudged the broken arm back into its sling while Gordon glared him.

“Hurry up.”

Virgil grabbed his crutches and followed Gordon to the stairs before darting sideways and thumbing the elevator doors open.

“Okay, fine, hop-a-long.” Gordon jumped down the last few steps and hurried into the elevator with Virgil.

He bounced on his heels the entire way to the infirmary level.

Virgil watched his agitation and realised that whatever was wrong with this bird, Gordon had invested himself in it, much like every other injured animal he had dragged home since he had learnt to walk.

Gordon ushered Virgil into the infirmary and to his horror, he found the limp sea bird strapped secure in one of the beds. “Gordon, have you heard of hygiene?”

“It’s fine. The sheets are clean. He’s safe.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

But Gordon’s whine drew him into examining the bird, which, considering it was avian, did not comply with the human knowledge Virgil possessed.

“I don’t really know, Gords.” Virgil stabbed at the infirmary’s computer interface, interrogating the net for baseline vitals for an albatross. Hell, he didn’t even know which species.

“It’s a Gibson’s Albatross.” Gordon was stroking the unconscious bird gently with his fingers.

This was not the first time, nor was it likely to be the last time Virgil found himself in this situation, though the species did vary. As always, his answer was. “I’m sorry, Gordon. You need a qualified vet.”

“But I set his wing. He should be getting better.” Gordon’s age regressed around animals and tended to break Virgil’s heart in the process.

“I’m sorry, Gordon.”

“For goodness sake, we’re International Rescue!” The plea in his brother’s eyes stabbed right where it hurt.

But then those eyes widened and a light bulb went off above Gordon’s head.

Or it could have been a pre-emptive precursor for the migraine Virgil suddenly knew he was going to end up with.

“No, Gordon.”

“But he’s dying!” Gordon grabbed Virgil by the arm. “It’s our job to save lives.”

“How exactly are we going to get him to the mainland? Neither of us can fly.” Virgil wasn’t going to admit it, but the bird didn’t look like it was going to last long enough for another family member to make it home. “I’m sorry, Gordon.” He was already calculating how to cheer up his little brother.

“No!”

He sighed. It wasn’t as if he wanted the bird to die. Hell, if he was hail and healthy, he would have already put it on Tracy Two and be halfway to Auckland by now. But there was no way he was risking himself or his brother in a plane with a broken limb. Maybe Kayo might get back in time?

But then the inevitable happened. He should have seen it coming.

“We can take Thunderbird One!”

Virgil blinked. “What? No!” God, no, Scott would kill him.

“This is a life, Virgil! What makes a bird’s any less important than a human’s? It’s his life, our house has endangered it, and now we aren’t doing anything to help save it? How is that fair?” Gordon’s fists were now clenched at his sides, the sling yet again ignored. Fiery carnelian glared at Virgil. “I can’t do it with my arm, but Thunderbird One doesn’t require feet to operate.” A flicker of his eyelids. “This is on you.”

Virgil stared at his little brother.

A glance at the limp bird on the bed.

Back to Gordon, ever so fiery and passionate.

Virgil reached down, unfolded Gordon’s fist and pulled the sling back into place.

Ten minutes later he found himself doing what he did every time this kind of situation happened.

Thunderbird One launched with Virgil at the helm and Gordon clutching a desperately ill albatross in the back seat.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared at his second eldest brother, the man with whom he trusted so much. Virgil had literally held Scott’s life in his hands on several occasions.

“You borrowed One to take an injured bird to the vet.”

Virgil shifted where he stood. “It was to save a life.”

Scott turned to the lounge and glared at John. “And you let him fly with a broken ankle?”

John returned the glare with equal strength. “Are you kidding me? This is Virgil we’re talking about. I thought One was safer in his hands than yours.”

“What?!”

“It’s not like he’s going to do anything stupid with your ‘bird, is he?”

There were no words, so Scott just gestured in the direction of the pool.

With both hands.

“Yeah, well, probabilities can’t predict everything.”

The flippant, non-answer went straight to Scott’s head and rattled around in there for a moment or two before he chose to file it for later or risk implosion. John was rubbing at his foot and Scott latched onto it to save his sanity. “How did you hurt yourself?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the kitchen caught fire. Kayo had already been called out again and I was worried about Grandma.”

“And?”

“I tripped.”

“Over what?”

“My own feet! It’s not every day you see Thunderbird One get stuck in the pool!” John glared at Scott. “Cahelium on concrete is very loud.”

Scott stared at him, not willing to face the image those words inflicted on him.

“Why was the kitchen on fire?”

But then something Virgil had said popped into his mind. He couldn’t help it, he rubbed his face with his hand. “Grandma, why didn’t you wait for Virgil to get home?”

“He left the popcorn on the counter, dear, I was trying to help.” Grandma wasn’t looking at him. John’s leg appeared to need a good rub right at this very moment.

John was wincing.

But with that explained, Scott had no choice but to turn back to Virgil, who was still standing clinging to his crutches.

Why hadn’t he sat down? He was ever so very sorry looking and Scott’s heart melted at the edges.

“Virgil, what happened?”

Brown eyes slowly peered up at him.

God, did he really have to deploy that little brother expression. Thunderbird One was down for the count, stuck in the damned pool and the brother responsible wasn’t even letting him stay angry. Goddamnit! How does a thirty-year-old man regress to six-year-old like that? Those eyes were the same eyes Virgil deployed that time he crashed Scott’s bicycle.

As if in answer, something whacked Scott’s thigh.

Ow! “What the hell?”

Looking down he found an extremely large seagull with a bandaged wing glaring up at him. Their eyes met and it squawked.

Very loudly.

“Hubert! What are you doing down here?” And suddenly, there was a race on around the comms room, Gordon chasing the waddling bird as it methodically thumped everyone with its wings, took out a pot plant and to Scott’s horror, one of Dad’s souvenirs. Both toppled with a crash as Gordon continued to chase Hubert around the room.

Alan joined him a moment later.

Part of Scott wanted to yell the building down, but most of him just wanted to know how the hell his ‘bird had ended up stuck halfway into her launch bay.

So, he turned back to Virgil and asked again, perhaps a little louder over the ruckus as the stupid bird scrambled over John in its eagerness to torture everyone.

He approached his brother carefully and placed a hand on each arm. “Virg, What happened?”

“It was an accident. I’m sorry, Scott.”

“That much is obvious. What malfunctioned?”

Brown eyes were suddenly not looking at him.

“Virgil?”

His brother straightened a little. “You have too many damned levers.”

“What?”

He seemed to be saying that a lot today.

“I pushed the wrong lever, okay? It’s on the left on Two and One has it on the right and I yanked on it to slow and the wings deployed. Wrong lever, sorry, okay?”

Scott stared at Virgil, his jaw slowly dropping as his hands lost their grip on his brother and just hovered mid-air beside him. “You used the wrong lever?”

“Yeah, sorry, my bad.” Virgil was looking at his feet. “Can I sit down now?”

Scott’s mouth was still open and he had to force himself to close it. “Sure.” So his voice was a little bit higher than normal…

Virgil didn’t hesitate, clutching his crutches and hurriedly tapping his way over to the lounge.

Behind Scott there was a sudden crash and the sound of breaking glass as both Alan and a bird squawked at the same time.

Scott didn’t turn to look. He just stood staring at his ‘bird, still gleaming in the late afternoon sun, still sticking out of the pool.

His jaw may have dropped just a little again.

But nothing more was said.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #Grandma Tracy #Sally Tracy #flyboytracy's fault

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jjdoggies-fanfics · 4 years ago

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Day 7: Free Choice

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27430312

@fivevanya

Title: Some Things Are Meant To Be

When Five and Vanya moved into their first house, after they’d officially gotten together, there had been a talk about getting a pet.

Five was firmly against getting any pet, they had enough things to worry about without having some fur-demon tearing apart their house. Vanya, on the other hand, had been bargaining with Five to get a pet, mostly a cat because of their lower maintenance needs than dogs, since the moment they cosigned on the house.

First, it would just be Vanya mentioning to Five, or others when Five was around, about how cute some of her friends’ pets looked.

Then, it was Vanya leaving newspapers, magazines, and flyers of various dogs and cats, along with a few birds here and there, some being advertised for sale, others for adoption, as well as some that had been reported missing, but were now found.

And when Five still didn’t budge about getting a pet, there were various articles, printed out and highlighted, about the apparent benefits to having a pet, practically covering their kitchen table.

Needless to say, it was getting a bit out of hand.

If he didn’t put a stop to it soon, he’d come home one of these days to a box full of puppies or kittens or both just sitting on their couch, then what would he do? And Five was going to tell Vanya, again, he was, that they weren’t getting a pet, at least for now, that was, at least, until they found Him.

Five and Vanya had been on a walk through the city, having just finished their weekly dinner date but not quite ready to go back to their house yet, when as they passed an alleyway Vanya heard something in the alley. Something whimpering and with a faint, sluggish heartbeat. And Vanya, her bleeding heart and caring soul, immediately walked into the alley and towards a soggy cardboard box, that had been hidden from the street’s view, shoved on the far side of the dumpster with a shabby blanket thrown on top. Just as Five walked up to Vanya, she’d knelt down and pulled the blanket off the top of the box, and revealing a little puppy, shivering and whimpering.

Before Five could tell Vanya not to touch the puppy, as they had no clue how many diseases it could be carrying, she had already lifted the little dog out of the box and was practically cradling it to her chest. He knew this was likely not going to go over well, but “Vanya, we can’t keep it.”

In the blink of an eye, before Five could say anything more, there were two sleepy, puppy eyes looking into his own. “Five,” when Vanya pleaded with him, it was always hard to not give her whatever she wanted, “please. It’s a sign.”

“A sign?” Five asked, trying to hide the amusement his wife was providing him with, “Since when do you believe in signs Vanya?”

“Since just now.”

“Vanya.”

“Five.” He gave her an annoyed look, which was still a rather soft look, considering it was pointed at Vanya and not, well, literally anyone else. “Five, please. Just look at him.”

Ignoring the pleading look on Vanya’s face, Five told her, “Vanya, we are not taking it home.”

“But we can’t just leave him out here Five.” Vanya countered, still pleading with him, as if he’d leave the little thing in the cold, all alone.

But there was still no way this dirty little furball was coming into their house. “We’re not leaving him out here. We’ll take him to a shelter or something, and they can deal with him.”

That was enough for Vanya to agree with him, and the two walked to the city’s shelter. And while Five intended to leave the dog with them, the shelter told them that they didn’t have enough room for the little puppy but promised to call them if someone came looking for it, so the dog came home with them. Great. The shelter did check the puppy over before sending him back with them, giving him a few vaccinations he’d get while in the shelter anyway and making sure he was free of any illnesses.

Now, instead of being able to cuddle with Vanya like he did every night, there was a little, freshly bathed and fed, dog in their bed, between them. “He needs a name.” Vanya said, while gently scratching the dog’s head.

Five held back a sigh as he said, “If you name him Vanya, that means we’re keeping him, which we’re not.” rubbing his hand over his face. Vanya getting any more attached to the little furball was the last thing Five wanted to happen.

“Five.” Great, now she was pleading for the stupid dog again.

Five, shortly, told her, “No.”

“Please.” Vanya pleaded again. And god it was hard to say no to her.

“Vanya,” Five started, “we aren’t keeping him. Neither of us are home enough to take care of him anyway.”

The look Vanya gave him the second after he said that, told him enough to know he’d practically backed himself into a corner. “Well, I have plenty of vacation days. And, the orchestra is getting our 2 weeks break next week! So, I’ll be home, all day with him, making sure he doesn’t chew up your shoes or pee on the carpet. It’ll be great!”

Shit. She had a point. Being home with the dog for three weeks would likely be long enough to train him. But that still didn’t mean he wanted to keep the dog. Luckily for Five, he thought of an out, another excuse not to keep the dog, “Neither of us have the slightest clue about training a dog, Vanya.”

“That’s why there are classes.” Vanya told him, “Dog training classes.” Fuck. Those. “I can take him, or we can go together, and they’ll teach us what we need to know to train him.”

Their ridiculous deliberation about whether they were keeping or not keeping the dog could’ve continued for likely hours on end, seeing as neither seemed to be willing to relent on their stance. So, rather than keep needlessly bargaining with each other, knowing it would only lead to both of them getting increasingly upset and annoyed with each other, to avoid that Five simply huffed and said, “Fine, but you are cleaning up after him.”

Vanya named him Mr. Pennycrumb. And despite Mr. Pennycrumb staying between Five and Vanya all night, and waking up to the furball liking his face, the smile on his wife’s face, as she looked between him and their new dog, was absolutely worth it.

And that, is how they ended up at the local vet the next day, Five’s mildly threatening phone call got them an early appointment the next morning, with the vet, Dr. Jones. Their veterinarian made sure that Mr. Pennycrumb was as vaccinated, given heartworm medicine, protected from fleas and ticks, and properly neutered as he needed to be. She also told them that Mr. Pennycrumb was suspected to be a mutt, a mix between a corgi and a german shepherd, and gave them a recommended list of basic supplies to get him and a pamphlet about dog training classes they offered at the clinic.

A short drive and walk later, while Vanya carried Mr. Pennycrumb through the pet store, picking through various collars, leashes, harnesses, toys, and dog clothes, while Five got Mr. Pennycrumb’s crate, which was recommended for rescue dogs, dog bed, as there was no way in hell that dog was sleeping in their bed every night, two stainless steel bowls, a big bag of quality dog food, a large tin for Mr. Pennycrumb’s food, and a dog brush. Everything that the vet had recommended they get for him.

When Five, and his cart of dog supplies, found Vanya with her basket of accessories for the dog and Mr. Pennycrumb, who was sleeping in Vanya’s arm that wasn’t holding the basket, he noticed something, something different about Vanya. There was a glow, a light about her, and not one from her powers. It was, enthralling, and mesmerizing, and beautiful.

And if all it took for his Vanya to be this happy, was a simple little puppy, then the chewed up shoes, soiled carpet, and early morning walks would be well worth it.

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renee-writer · 4 years ago

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Highlands and Horses Chapter 5 Colic

“What is wrong, Amazing Grace?” The horse wasn’t herself, pawing at the ground, not eating her morning hay and oats. She just had a general look of illness about her. Claire comes in the stall with her and places the stethoscope on her broad chest. Counting softly. “Damn. Your heart hate is fifty. Not good girl.” She moves down to her gut were the lack of sounds has her ringing Jamie, even as she reaches for the rectal thermometer. He answers as it shows the filly’s temperature as low. No doubt it is colic. She worried about that as she doesn’t like to venture far and there is only so much exercise she can get in the small paddock and the area between it and the barn.

“Amazing Grace has colic.” She tells him. A low uttered curse.

“Thank you. I am on the way.” He has tried to keep a respectable distance between them over the last few weeks, until he figures out how to deal with what he feels for her. Now, he has no choice but to be on the same space.

He finds her, trying to get the horse on her feet. She just wants to lay down. “No you don’t sister. Up. I know it hurts. We are going to help but you must work with us.” She says as she goes to urge her up. Jamie utters a sharp command in Gaelic and the filly’s eyes shoot to him, roll, before she pushes herself up with a snort.

“It is all in the tone.” He says to a surprised Claire.

“What did you say?” She asked as she leads her out.

“Up.” He says with a smile.

“You will have to teach me that one.” Said over her shoulder as they exit the barn. The flash of those blue eyes, the sun catching the highlights in her hair, all conspire to fully distract him. He must force himself to focus on Amazing Grace. She needs exercise to see if her colic will resolve. If not, they will bring her back in for a mild laxative. Then a vet call if that isn’t affective.

“I shall.” They start to walk the reluctant horse around. “Grand job lass. Aye, I know you would rather lay down but you can’t. Not yet. Let’s get that wane moving, shall we?” Neighs and snorts greet this. Her head stays close to Claire as they walk in circles between the paddock and barn.

“I an here, yes. I will not leave you until you feel better, I promise love.” She rests her head against her neck as they continue around. Jamie almost loses it then. She is so absolutely perfect but her love and care for Amazing Grace places her in a whole new level. God, there is no way he can continue to resist her.

Around and around, both speaking words of encouragement. An hour passes, then another.

“Let’s take her back in and try the laxative. I will sent a message to Jenny to have the vet on standby.”

“Jenny?” He smiles at the jealousy in her voice.

“My sister.”

“Oh, that is a good idea.”

“Aye.” They move back into the barn and Jamie prepares and administers the medicine as Claire keeps the horse’s attention focused on her. “Now we wait.” He takes the stethoscope and listens to her chest and wane. “Still colicky sounding. Let me update Jenny.” She nods as she pulls up one of the buckets used for seats and sits beside her, stroking her flank and softly talking.

“Jamie, why have you been avoiding me?” she asks after he rings off.”

“Avoiding you?”

“The last few weeks, yes. You are there when I need you, like today. But haven’t went out of the way to be near me. You look away when I meet your eyes. Stuff you weren’t doing before.” She stops to rub the filly’s head as she lowers it down to her. “Have I done something wrong?”

“God no! You are great. To great. I am having a problem keeping a professional distance between us, my problem, not yours.”

She stands and walks over to the other side of the horse where he stands. “Me too.” Confessed as she decides to do as her Uncle Lamb suggested. She places her hands on his chest and meets his wide eyes. Lifting up, with a lick across her own lips to make her intentions clear, she moves towards the temptation of his lips. His eyes move to her lips before he drops down to meet her. Close enough that he can smell the coffee on her breath. He was going to kiss her without guilt or worry about what it all means.

This is when Jenny comes in. “Excuse me. Dinna mean to intrude. Just wanted to let you know the vet is on the way “ a smirk towards the quickly moving apart couple.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #highlands and horses #colic #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #modern au #outlander fandom

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lifeisbooksandcats · 4 years ago

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Just lil autistic things from when I was a child.

As an autistic adult (29 years old) (not professionally diagnosed, but something I’ve thought about myself for the past 12 years and just recently something I’ve spent far too much of my free time researching and I honestly do think that I am), I look back at my childhood with the thought of “WHY didn’t ANY adult in my life see any of this as ‘not normal’ and try to HELP me??”

- I was very advanced in some areas, mostly reading and writing; I was reading independently by the age of about 2 and a half/3. From the time I started kindergarten, I was always reading “far above grade level”. The first Harry Potter book came out when I was in second grade and I was just one of 3 kids between the two second grade classes at my school who had a high enough reading level for that to be independent reading. For writing, I have always always always, my entire life, been able to express my thoughts better on paper than verbally. I’ve always enjoyed writing. I would write essays upon essays about things I liked for no other reason than I just wanted to. Being alone with a book or something to write with was my happy place.

- My first real total and complete meltdown (that I can remember at least) (which my mom says was the start of my ‘very real anxiety problem’ (which she apparently noticed but literally never did anything to help me??? But that’s for another post another time.)) was when I was about 5(ish). We lived with my grandparents at the time, and my grandparents and I went to Florida to visit my aunt and uncle. My sister and mom stayed home. While we were gone, there was a fire that destroyed my grandparents’ house. My mom and sister and our dogs got out, but our cats died in the fire. So we get home from vacation, our house is gone, our cats are gone, we have to stay with a neighbor (who smoked and her house always smelled like cigarettes and I just remember the smell making me so sick to my stomach constantly) while the house is being fixed/rebuilt, our dogs are boarded at the vets office because we can’t have them in the neighbor’s apartment...we left for vacation and everything was normal, we get back and EVERYTHING is different, so obviously I’m already on edge.. we went to go visit our dogs and take them on a walk, and I kept turning around to make sure our car was still there..we went around a corner, so the next time I turned around I couldn’t see our car anymore and I had a full on MELTDOWN. I threw myself to the ground, I cried hysterically, and my family just chuckled and said I was dramatic and overreacting and the car was just around the corner. Did I overreact? I mean absolutely. Looking back, I can see how my reaction to not being able to see the car anymore was...a lot. Given the exact same circumstances, would a neurotypical child have reacted the exact same way? I don’t know. I don’t think so.

- I HATED the feel of paper. Oh my god I hated it. Even now as an adult, if I’ve had an incredibly long day or if I’m tired, I still sometimes can’t bring myself to touch it. I used to wear long sleeves constantly (or keep a sweatshirt nearby if I had short sleeves on) so I could pull my sleeves over my hand when I had to write so I wouldn’t feel the paper. I don’t know how to explain it, but the feel of paper would make my skin crawl. Even the tiniest bit of my skin touching it would send a chill down my back and I felt like I could “hear” the way it felt and the “sound” hurt my ears. In high school, I HATED going to history or science class not because I didn’t like the subject (I didn’t enjoy history, but I loved my science classes), but because the thought of having to touch the pages in the textbook made me nauseous.

- While *most* of the time I could handle listening to the car radio, there were times especially if I had had a long day, or was stressed or overwhelmed that I literally could NOT listen to the radio because I didn’t know what order the songs were going to play in. We spent a lot of time in the car listening to the same 3 cassette tapes again and again. I had a blue SanDisk MP3 player that idk if it was defective or what, but the songs ALWAYS played in the same order. If you hit shuffle, the first song to play would be a random one, but it would always play the same song after that one. I found comfort in knowing if X is playing, I know Y is next and Z is after that.

- My sister and I shared a bedroom (we had bunk beds) and she had a fan the clipped onto the rungs of the ladder of the bunk bed and the sound of the fan...the vibration of it against the wooden ladder... it HURT my ears. There would be nights I would cry and cry because I couldn’t sleep because my ears were hurting so bad because of the fan. Any time I would turn it off, my mom would get so mad at me. I remember her telling me “your sister needs the fan in order to sleep!” I would respond that I couldn’t sleep because of the sound, and she would tell me to grow up and get over it because I was the older one. And my sister would snore just a little bit, not super loudly, but loud enough that it distracted me from falling asleep. I would be so tired and frustrated, all I wanted was for her to “stop breathing so loudly”..

- I was annoying/bossy about playing games. I needed to know the rules and needed everyone to follow the rules. And if someone broke the rules, I remember sternly telling my friends “that’s NOT how you play”, if they broke the rules again, I didn’t want to play that game with them anymore. Way too often, I would tell my friends they were playing wrong. Even games we would make up, I had to know the rules and everyone HAD TO play CORRECTLY.

- I’ve always kept some sort of music player with me at basically all times - from a cassette player, to a CD player, to an MP3 player, to an iPod, to an iPod video, to my phone... and when the world was too loud (ESPECIALLY on the school bus or in the cafeteria) I could just put headphones in and listen to music and escape from the world being too much.

- My parents got my ears pierced when I was a baby; even as a toddler I remember HATING them being pierced. I hated the way they felt, I hated how they felt too tight on my ears, I hated the weight of them, even just little studs, I could FEEL them, I was constantly aware of them and I didn’t like it.. and I couldn’t take them out. I remember being told “but you’re a GIRL and the earrings are PRETTY!” I remember the relief I felt when I learned that if you played a sport at school you weren’t allowed to have earrings in. I remember signing up for soccer in third grade JUST BECAUSE I would get to take my earrings out, and just the joy/relief I felt not having to wear them. And I haven’t worn them again since third grade.

- I used to organize my and my sister’s CDs and cassettes obsessively. Alphabetical order by artist or band name, and in order by the year they came out. At least once a week I would have to check to make sure everything was still in order. I did the same with my books on my bookshelf. They had to be organized. And they had to be organized CORRECTLY.

- I HATED the feeling of my toes touching each other. Oh my god I hated it so much. Any time I had shoes on, I HAD TO wear toe socks so they wouldn’t be directly touching. It made me feel physically ill, anxious, uncomfortable. I cannot even put into words how much I absolutely hate hate HATED the feeling of my toes touching each other. Which I know is the weirdest thing to have that kind of a reaction to, but..possibly a sign that something was up in my lil childhood neurodivergent af brain.

#me #personal #actually autistic #I’m SURE there are more things #but these are what I could remember today #I may come back to this and add more things as I think about them or remember them #our systems are still down at work so I’ve just spent all morning writing this

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victoriareyloficlists · 4 years ago

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Pets

Updated 4 October 2021

Rest of the Masterlist.

#kylothekiller by crossingwinter (AO3 2018 Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: It’s not the first time that Rey has seen Kylo pop up in her Fido stream, but it is the first time she’s clicked on him fast enough to be scheduled for a meet and greet with dog and owner on Saturday.) #kylothekiller Sequel /r/dogs by crossingwinter (AO3 2018 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: [Help] My Girlfriend thinks she’s dying because the dog won’t leave her side.) A Dog is a Man's Best Friend (and also a force for fate) by Impossiblefangirl0632 (AO3 2020 Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben is dog-sitting for Poe and everything is going fine until BB sees a rabbit and runs off. Rey finds a muddy, but happy dog and takes him home with her. She's going to turn him into the shelter, she really is but before she can she runs into a very stressed, very annoyed Ben who accuses her of dognapping.) A Hare Brained Scheme by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rosey the Rabbit is sad. Rex her bonded companion has died and she needs a new hutch-mate. The problem is Rey is flat broke. Would her surly neighbour, owner of Huxy the Bunny be willing to let Rosey bond with his beloved pet? ) A Tail of Two Fluffs by Crysania, deadlikemoi, DyadamDriver, EquusGirl (EquusGirl0621), HelenFlower92, here4thereylo, lorel_steele, tmwillson3 (AO3 2019 Rated T Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben and Rey are roommates secretly pining for each other. When the two move in together, a cheesy ad on the radio brings them to Takodana Animal Shelter, where they meet Kira and Kylo, two animals that quickly win over their hearts. Can they sneak them home as Christmas presents for each other without raising suspicion?) Dog Days of Summer by reyloanne (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Veterinary student Rey has loved dogs ever since a puppy stole her heart at 7 years old. Now, she supplements her scholarships with a side business walking dogs. When there's a mixup with the scheduling of her newest client Buster, Rey walks in and gets an eyeful of Buster's owner instead.) Doggy See Doggy Do by youfluttermywings (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo's terribly late for work, his dog Chewie is bleeding out from his leg and his regular vet is all booked out. The only vet who can fit him in is a forty minutes drive away...) En-Snack-Ment by Twin_Kitten (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Police dog Kylo alerts for drugs on Rey's car, and Detective Ben Solo must investigate.) Get Over a Man, Get a Dog by PortPowerhouse (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey tells her best friend Ben she loves him. Ben was raised in a household where he was taught “I know” is an acceptable response to “I love you”. Rey gets a dog to help cope with her heartbreak because the real best way to get over a man is to get a dog.) Gimme Shelter by JaneNightwork (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, 14 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo meets Rey Niima when his mother asks him to drop off a few boxes of old sheets and towels at the animal shelter. He is immediately charmed by her and decides to volunteer at the shelter to get to know her better. In the process of building his relationship with Rey and learning to take care of the animals, Ben learns new ways to heal old hurts.) If Found, Please Return by SageMcMae (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 8 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey knows what it's like to be abandoned, so when she returns a lost dog to his posh Manhattan address, she gives his owner an earful.) In Small Packages by DyadamDriver (AO3 2018 Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: It was then that Ben realised three things. 1. He had never had a cat in his life. 2. He had no idea what these little things ate. 3. He had a crippling crush on his neighbour.) Kitten Love by ReyloRobyn2011 (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben is a field reporter for Hanna City that always is given ridiculous stories to report. What happens when he interviews the owner of a local kitten rescue that brought the kittens to an aquarium? Well, it may just be love at first sight.) les amoureux des animaux by reylomami (AO3 2019 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey leaves her job in a whim after a quarter-life crisis. With too much time suddenly in her hands to rethink her life and her identity, Rey finds money-making respite in a pet-sitting job from Pawshake. A Reylo Pawshake AU with poor time coordination and fluff out of meet-cutes and mournings.) Let's Go Pumpkin Picking by JustYouBenSolo (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rose doesn’t understand why Rey is so eager to go pumpkin picking with her at Han Solo’s farm when Rey went pumpkin picking last week with Poe. And the week before with Finn. Maybe she just really loves pumpkins? TW: Unsafe sex, no pregnancy.) Lost & Found by commandercrouton (AO3 2019 Rated T Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey loses her kitten, her neighbor finds a kitten.) Matched! by ekayla (AO3 2021 Rated M Complete, 15 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: What happens if you finally meet someone interesting on dating app during an international pandemic and can’t meet face to face?) Merry (Fuzzy) and Bright by JaneNightwork (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, 25 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: One night Ben finds a dog abandoned on his doorstep. She's cold, scared, and pregnant. Ben takes her to a nearby vet clinic and meets the beautiful veterinarian Rey, who promises to help him be the best caregiver the dog and her puppies could ask for. Throughout the holiday season Ben and Rey fall in love with the puppies and, of course, each other.) Must Love Dogs by wanderlustfaery (etherealprey) (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben gets a rescue dog named Kylo. Rey has a rescue dog named Gavin. These two dogs apparently know each other from before and force their new owners to exchange numbers so they can see each other.) My Favorite Spot by erney007 (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: A modern AU where Ben has a love at first sight when he meets Rey. Only a little problem, her little Corgi wouldn't let him get near her.) Of Coffee, Corgis, and Cats by starspangledbisexual (AO3 2021 Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey would do anything for Finn- and by extension, Finn's boyfriend Poe and his adorable corgi, BeeBee. That includes covering Finn's shift when BeeBee goes missing. Throw a handsome customer, some convenient coincidences, and a very surly cat into the mix, and Rey's Tuesday afternoon turns out to be a lot more interesting than she thought it would be.) Paw Prints on my heart by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The prompt was Rey and Ben are roommates who find a stray kitten and the kitten brings them closer together. Could it be that they mean more to each other than they thought?) Paws by Polkadotdotdot (AO3 2018 Rated M Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Every Friday, Ben Solo takes his Doberman, Kylo to Central Park. Every Friday he sits on the same bench without anyone ever bothering him. Until another dog walker steals his spot...) Puppy Love by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2020 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben adopts a naughty puppy and contacts a dog trainer. It's horrible. Rey's too attractive and every time she says 'good boy' Ben comes close to popping a boner. Rey is pure magic with dogs, so he can't change trainers. Will Ben be able to survive the class?) Pussy Peek by JustYouBenSolo (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey adopts a kitten, she invites Ben over to meet it. He misinterprets this as an invitation for something else. When Ben comes over, Rey says she’ll be right back (to get the kitten). He starts taking off his clothes…) put it into words by akosmia (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben went out to get a dog, and he got home with a poodle and a crush on the girl working at the shelter. That's life, right?) Sabotage by CaptainMarvel42 (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 10 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After learning Ben's role in Finn and Poe's breakup, Rey plots her revenge.) Snow Sparkles Like Stars by raptorginger (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 9 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: A blizzard forces Professor (of mythology and cosmology) Kylo Ren, aka Ben Solo, off the road while on his way to his parents’ house in Seattle for the holidays. Luckily, the woman who owns the house he’s stranded at is well prepared for a snow-in and (as a bonus) is adorable. Unluckily, she’s the owner of eight mischievous Alaskan Malamutes, who may or may not be the physical manifestations of the old gods of Norse myth.) Steadfast and True by andabatae (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Veterinarian Rey Niima's life mission is to save hurt or ill animals. When Ben Solo brings his injured puppy into the office, she leaps into action to save him. And when Ben asks if she makes house calls to check on recovering pets, Rey immediately agrees.) Strays by crossingwinter (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey rescues a mangy mutt from the site of a junkyard and brings the dog to the Solo Veterinarian Clinic. There she falls in love with the handsome son who's just really trying to save all animals.) Take My Hand by phrenique (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey lost her dog, Ben finds it.) The Fetch Order by Erulisse17 (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Working at the Fetch Order is all Rey ever wanted. She's surrounded by dogs everyday, her coworkers are fun and friendly, and the owners, Leia and Han, care about her like no one else ever has. But when someone breaks in at night to steal Chewie, she has to do everything she can to protect him. Until she finds out that the intruder is Ben Solo, trying to pick up the dog for his parents. ) To Say Good Night to You by dawninthemtn (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben is living a lonely quarantine when he gets a FaceTime call from a random toddler. He makes friends with the child, and eventually, her mother.) Valentine's Day by PropertyOfThaJoker (AO3 2018 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The cat immediately came to Rey, who immediately held it. “He can’t be more than five weeks old, Ben. He’s a baby. It’s cold out here – he’ll freeze to death. We have to take him home.”) Wild Child by tmwillson3 (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey spends her first Season in Bath with her best friend, Rose Tico. When Rose begins a hate-at-first-sight relationship with Sir Armitage Hux, Rey thinks that nothing more exciting could happen. That's when Sir Hux's friend, the Earl of Alderaan, and his dogs come crashing into Rey. Rey has never liked peers, but when she bonds with him on a rainy day, everything changes.)

#reylo #reylo fanfic

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viskovie · 4 years ago

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Almost Like Family

Chapter I

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Following his return to the States, Matt would like to say he was productive. Would like to say that he found a job, connected with old friends again, and started looking at apartments so he could finally move out of his mom’s house. In reality, he put in an application for college - after haphazardly picking a degree - and then lay around doing nothing. For six weeks.

He knows he needs to get his shit back together, but how the hell are you supposed to do that when some of it’s still in some godforsaken war camp on the other side of the world? His mom is worried about him, and usually that would be enough to guilt him into getting off his ass. But now it just gets under his skin. He’s been to war - literally. If he was only a boy before he left, he definitely isn’t anymore.

Part of him is uncomfortably aware that he’s being unreasonable. Of course his mom’s worried. Her baby just survived hell on earth - the same hell she lost her husband to. She doesn’t want to lose him, too. But still. Matt doesn’t appreciate the coddling. She was an army wife, so she of all people should know to leave him be.

The first thing he bought when he finally had his feet back on familiar ground was an armful of the most American fast-food he could think of. Later that evening, with his system flooded with relief and his belly full, he’d seriously considered ditching the whole college idea in favour of aimless travel. He’d wanted to buy a car and just roam the country until he’d seen everything there was to see. But his mom had - luckily - had the foresight to shut him out of his bank account before he got home. No better way of making your kid stick to the plan than not giving them any other options, he’d thought moodily, but he knows she was right. He still wants to travel around the States, but he reasons that he can do that after he’s graduated and got a good job.

He wants to be a veterinarian, although it was kind of a snap-decision. Besides, it’ll be a better reason to call himself a vet than going to war is. Will ever be. His time there was… useless. A waste of resources; of life�� He doesn’t want to think about it.

He’s been having this recurring nightmare ever since he got home. He’s standing out in the desert - somewhere familiar, but he can never place exactly where. He always looks around, trying to remember, and when he turns back Chutsky’s walking toward him. There’s blood on his helmet and smeared all over his face. His gun is in his hands, but the trigger is missing. He gets close. Close enough for Matt to see how glassy and vacant his eyes are. He looks ragged and disoriented. He’s a shell of himself; all the life in him gone. Sometimes he just stands there, with a sad, longing look on his face, but sometimes he talks directly to Matt.

“Why didn’t you help me?”

“Why didn’t you try to stop me?”

“I had a family…”

It’s infinitely worse when he speaks, because Matt can never answer. He doesn’t know what to say. He’d been too busy covering his own ass to worry about anyone else’s, and his teammate had died for it. Chutsky always looks at him like he’s waiting for a response, but when he seems to realise that Matt isn’t going to reply, he turns away with a lonelier expression than before. He breaks into a sprint, gets a few steps away, and gets gunned down. He hits the dirt exactly like he did in Baqubah. The shot echoes in Matt’s head even after he’s sat up in bed, drenched in an icy sweat. It’s his fault that Chutsky’s dead. His fault, and there’s nothing Sergeant Harper can say that will change his mind.

He often wonders how Harper’s doing. The Sergeant’s a career soldier, so for him this is probably just an intermission before the next tour. Matt doesn’t envy him, but he does miss him. He wonders if Harper ever reconciled with his fiancée (Anne? Andrea?). He doesn’t like to think about that either.

Matt had discovered his sexuality in ninth grade. It had not been a particularly fun experience; he’d immediately told his best friend at the time, but the friend hadn’t taken it well. He was never mean about it, and never told anyone else (which Matt was, admittedly, grateful for) but there had been a weird tension between them ever since. Eventually, they drifted apart and didn’t really speak to each other again. In eleventh grade, Matt had his first - and last - boyfriend. Once they’d moved past the excitement of a new relationship, the whole thing had been disappointingly average. It had ended quietly. There were no hard feelings, but they were never friends. All in all, Matt isn’t proud of his attractions and tries to keep them under wraps as best he can. He’d been doing a pretty damn good job of it, too - until he’d met Sergeant Harper.

It hadn’t been some Romeo and Juliet, love-at-first-sight bullshit. There were plenty of good-looking men around, and statistically speaking some of them should’ve been gay, but something about Harper fascinated Matt.

It could’ve been anything, really. Even after fifteen months in Iraq, living practically on top of one another, Matt still couldn’t say he knew much about him for certain, besides what he knew as a soldier. Harper was fair, he knew when to pull rank and when to let things slide, he did his best to keep his team safe, and he showed a sensitivity that most of the other blokes had lost long ago. The only thing Matt didn’t like was that he never stepped in when Burton, Enzo and Chutsky’s teasing had gotten nasty. Harper had a “fight your own battles” attitude, which was all well and good, but sounded frustratingly like his middle school teachers. And so Matt did his best to ignore them, but it was hard not to feel alone when he noticed Harper watching and never intervening.

He also had this weird ability to know what Matt was thinking. After he’d broken his hand, Harper had asked how it happened. The question was casual, innocent, but Matt couldn’t quite force himself to make eye contact as he answered. The sergeant wasn’t an idiot. No way he bought the story, even if he never really mentioned it again. The rational part of Matt knew he couldn’t actually read minds, but still. He’d tried not to take any chances.

He knows he’d been in hot water by the time he finally left. He thinks back on their conversation in Baqubah, after the mission that was supposed to be quick and painless and ended up being a total shitshow, when he finally came clean and told Harper everything. Why he’d broken his own hand, how it’d happened, why he’d even signed up in the first place. Harper had nodded - he hadn’t brushed him off or told him to suck it up like the others would’ve, and Matt couldn’t tell him how much he appreciated it. Harper seemed to understand. But Matt thinks he’d confessed more than he’d meant to, even without explicitly saying it. Harper had given him a long, searching look before going back to his cigarette. Matt can’t stop thinking about it.

They were never exactly close, but did Harper suddenly seem to hold him at arm’s length? Was it because he’d known more than he was letting on, was it because he was still in shock over that ill-fated raid, or was it all in Matt’s head? Had he projected a little too much, desperately hoping for reciprocation and terrified of rejection?

He sighs, staring up at his bedroom ceiling. The paper stars he stuck up in sixth grade are still there, hanging from their fine white threads in a loose cloud. He thinks the original idea had been to cover his entire ceiling in them, make it look like a galaxy. He can’t quite remember. What would his twelve-year-old self think of him now? He’d dreamed of working at NASA. If he searches, he’ll probably find all the drawings and plans to build cool space tech that he made when he was a kid. The thought makes him smile, but it’s heartbreakingly bittersweet. Poor little Matt; lost his dad at six, lost his best friend at fifteen, and now losing himself at twenty-two.

His mom knocks gently on the door, tactfully waiting for invitation to enter. She’s holding the home phone. She looks a little sad, but quietly knowing.

“It’s for you, hun.” She says, holding it out for him. Matt accepts it and she gives him a small, tired smile.

“Don’t keep him waiting too long, he seems sweet.” She adds, shutting the door again as she leaves. Matt brings the phone to his ear. He doesn’t know who would be calling him, nor does he really care. It’s probably one of his few high school friends, making a token attempt to reconnect. He’s not expecting to hear Harper’s voice.

“Hey Ocre. How’s it feel to be home?”

Matt nearly drops the phone. He sits heavily on the edge of his bed.

“I- uh, good, sir. It’s good to be home.” Even to his own ears the words sound hollow. He sits up a little straighter, subconsciously falling back into the familiarity of addressing a senior officer. Over the line, Harper laughs softly.

“Yeah, it takes a little while to get used to the fact that nobody’s trying to kill you anymore.” He says. There’s a few moments of awkward silence, in which Matt can’t think of anything to say. Harper makes a sound like he’s clearing his throat.

“Are you still in the area?” He asks carefully. The question takes Matt by surprise. He fumbles his anwer, suddenly self-conscious about still living with his mom.

“Good. There’s some stuff we never got to talk about back there.” Harper continues steadily. Matt’s heart skips a beat and his blood runs inexplicably cold. No, no, no, no. What happened in Baqubah was going to stay in Baqubah, including their little ‘chat’.

“Ocre? You still there?”

“Uh…”

“When are you free?”Harper prompts. Never, Matt wants to say.

“Whenever.” Is what he actually says. He cringes as soon as the word has left his mouth. God, he sounds like a teenager with a crush! He hopes Harper doesn’t notice. But of course, no such luck.

“Damn, you’re that excited to see me again, huh?” Harper teases, laughing again. It sounds more genuine this time. Matt opens his mouth to snark back, but realises there’s nothing he can say that will let him win. They arrange a time and place to meet, and when they hang up he feels lighter than he has in weeks. He lies back on his bed, looking up at his stars again.

He isn’t sure whether to be relieved or agitated that he’s gonna see Harper again. He’d left Baqubah with the sense of absolute certainty that if he never saw or thought of the guys again he’d be able to forget what he’d seen and done. But on the other hand, Harper may well be the only other person in the world who knows exactly how he feels. It’s confusing, and Matt’s getting another headache.

He isn’t sure when he dozes off, but for the first time since he got home, he doesn’t have his regular nightmare. It’s not a peaceful sleep, but he doesn’t wake up with the shakes so he counts it as a success.

#sand castle 2017 #sand castle #matt ocre #sgt james harper #fanfic

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artisticestheticreads · 5 years ago

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ROXANNE

A/N: So, I have been hearing this song every where and ending up downloading when I got an idea for this one shot. I think I saw a one shot by @hearteyes-for-killmonger (I could be wrong though. It was so long ago.) where Erik raced a woman but this is nothing like that. I was just inspired by the racing idea.

Warning: nothing...I don’t think.

Song Recommendation: ROXANNE - Arizona Zervas

Word Count: 1685

It was a very chill, basic night and Erik was of course in his flashy all matte black Jaguar. He was playing music from the late and great TuPac, bopping his head. Erik was stuck at home but decided to go out for a drive and maybe pull up to the Mexican Food spot.

He was stuck at a red light when a Lambo, all gold pulled up beside him on his left. He was giving the gentleman his props in his head since he couldn’t see pass the other car’s tinted windows. The other driver looked over at Erik as their freshly manicured hands gripped the wheel, revving up their engine.

“This nigga don’t know who he dealing with”, Erik chuckled as he did the same. As the green light flashed, they were off. They both maneuvered through traffic with ease and Erik had to admit he was impressed; Erik took a look at the driver’s license plate and read ROXXX. The other driver spun in a circle making them drive backwards as the top went down and what Erik saw surprised him even more. It was a brown skin woman with auburn hair, blow dried curls with a pair of cute cheeks, and full glossed lips and dimples.

The woman winked as she spun back around, driving ahead of Erik. Erik smirked slyly and caught; up checking her out more before they both stopped at the light. He leaned out his window on his arms and said “what you know about driving like that, little one?” She looked at him as her hands were 10 and 2, looked at him with lustful brown eyes and said “way more than you pretty boy.”

Erik smirked as they still waited; eyes on the lights. He spoke out loud and said “you should give me your number. So we can race again sometime.” She shook her head and said ”only if you beat me. Where ya heading to?”

“The Mexican food joint up the way.”

“Rosa’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Aight, if I win, you gotta pay for my food and I don’t give you my number.”

“What if I win?”

She giggled as she smiled and said “that’s if ya beat me, handsome.” She drove past him and he eventually caught up. They were neck and neck when he looked over at her. The street lights flowed against her exposed arms which were covered in numerous tattoos and look as if she was nude. Her eyes were on the street ahead in the zone when she turned left so he turned right. Erik couldn’t help but think about Roxxx. He barely knew her but wanted to get to at least. Her style in cars and driving techniques were phenomenal and he wanted to just pick her brain. How can a beautiful woman like that be so good at driving? I mean it was 2020 and woman could do anything men did but maybe even better. He also wondered what else she can ride.

Erik pulled up to the spot and noticed her car wasn’t around. He shook his head as he thought she left him hanging. He stepped out of his car fixing his tossed locs and Levi jeans with crisp white tee and all white Adidas. “Finally you got here”, he heard from across the street. There she stood, leaning on her car with arms and ankles crossed. Her shapely figure was covered by a white tube top, a pair of jean shorts and white Converse. Her thigh was home for a panther tattoo and cheetah print on her opposite calf. She threw her sunglasses behind her in the car and began walking towards him across the street.

It seemed as if they were in slow motion because he watched as the bounce in her thighs, chest and hair reflected the headlights of the cars who had stopped. He stood smirking to himself once she got onto the curb. He looked down at her small physique and said “you are a little one, huh?” She looked away smirking then back to him and said “at least I didn’t lose, big man. You own me some tacos.” She walked past and he got the perfect view of her behind. He bit his lip but heard “ya comin’ or you just gonna stare at my ass the whole time, chief?” Roxxx turned to him slightly until he started walking.

There they stood, side by side looking up at the menu. Erik looked at the 5’6 ½ woman and noticed her beautiful round face as she paid him no mind. She tucked her hair behind her ear and showed off her dagger tattoo on her neck right behind the ear. “Gah damn, this girl is fine as hell. Look at her all bronze and flawless and shit. It was worth losing to her. She probably make a nigga bow down to her Shit, I’m wit it”, he thought to himself. She looked down at her nails and around until she saw Erik who now looked at the menu. ”Hm, damn he is good looking as fuck. He can dress, keeps his nails clean. I don’t see ring on his finger. Look like he can break backs, necks and hearts if he wanted too. Beard full and I know he got a big d-“, she thought but was interrupted by the cashier. “Yeah, my bad. I want four tacos, with everything, carne asada and green chile salsa on the side. Oh and a large pina colada slushie.”

“I’ll get a wet chicken burrito, no beans, extra meat and cheese and salsa on the side with a root beer”, said Erik as he pulled out a roll of money from his pocket. “That will be $24.94” said the man in a think Spanish accent; Erik handed him the exact amount and they grabbed their drinks. She led the way out to the side tables and said on the bench; he sat beside her. “So, who taught you how to drive”, he asked sipping his drink. Roxxx sipped from hers and said “my god mom. She was racer while I was growing up until she got ill. She still around but she ain’t racing no more. What about you?”

“My damn self. I grew up by myself”, Erik said matter of factually. Roxxx pulled her straw in and out and she stirred her drink as he watched. “What’s her name”, she asked and Erik got confused until she said “ya car. What’s her name?” He chuckled and said “you asking my car name but not mine?” She rolled her eyes and looked at him. “Fine, what is yours then?”

“Erik but everyone call me Killmonger.”

“Killmonger? Like the ex vet?” He looked at her with a rose brow and asked “how you know that?”

“You cool with my god brother, D’Angelo. The dark skin with the dark hair and gap in between his teeth.” Erik smiled and said “awe shit. Yeah, I am. We go way back.” Roxxx nodded and said “yeah, I know. I mean you and I never met because I moved around a lot but D used to talk about you a lot until…”, Roxxx stopped at the memory of seeing her late brother murdered in front of his home. She still remembered the new reports saying how he was a blood but that was all fake news. D’Angelo was just a video game nerd who never held a gun outside of GTA. She missed him a lot but the tears wouldn’t bring him back. Erik nodded and said “yeah, I remember when his girl told me. I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t be. Shit happens. D’Angelo actually thought convinced me into get Goldie over there. That’s was his name for her but I thought it was a cheesy name so I named him Angel”, she sipped her drink with a small smile and he did the same. “So, what you do”, he asked and she told him “nothing much. I race every once a week for tons of money. I usually get top three and get at least 200,000 for a race.” Erik nodded and said “that’s a shit ton of money.” She giggled and said “that’s why I do it, Killmonger.” They smiled at one another and soon ate when the employee came out. They talked more and after they ate, they did more. “So, you telling me Love and Basketball is wack��, Erik asked and Roxxx nodded. “It would still be good if they didn’t outplay that shit on BET.” Erik chuckled as they dapped one another and Roxxx watched him. “Does your girl watch it”, she asked making Erik smile. “I don’t got one.”

“Why ya lying” I know you got plenty of women on ya dick, 24/7.”

“Nah, I ain’t feeling it. What about you? With how ya looking, I know you got niggas drooling when you come their way.” She smirked and said “nah, I just let ‘em drool.” They began walking towards his car and stood there for a couple of seconds. “Thanks for the food. I’ll check ya around”, she said about to walk away but Erik pulled her back gently to him. “So, you ain’t gonna give me ya number”, he asked and she shook her head. He pressed his tongue against his cheek shaking his head and she smiled. “But I’ll take yours.” She pulled out her phone, unlocked it and handed it to him so he can put his number in. She looked down at the number and texted it with a car emoji. She shook his hand slowly and said “good night, Killmonger.” “Good night, Roxxx.” She saluted him and went to her car getting in and he followed; he realized something as she pulled away and followed behind. Both stopped side by side at a red light and he hollered “you never told me ya name.” She smiled, looked over and said “my name is Roxanne.” The both smirked at one another as she drove off heading home, leaving him with nothing but hope to see her again.

*𝕋𝔸𝔾𝔾𝔼𝔻 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼𝕊*

@muse-of-mbaku @im5ftbutmythroat66 @chaneajoyyy @melanin-samii @theunsweetenedtruth @doux-ciel @unicornluvin8765 @vikkidc @wakandantings @thadelightfulone @mzamethystp @simbiann @tropicalsun10 @babydoll756 @notoriouslynay @vminax @quinsly @pinkdemolition @quietstorm-73 @chaoticcashfancroissant @bugngiz @chocolatedippedinhoney @yafavcocoa @lostgalaxies @mbakuwife @youreadthatright @babygotl01292003 @acceptyourselfloveyourself @madamslayyy @yoyolovesbucky @theogbadbitch @wakanda-inspired @bitchacho25 @toniilaney @wakandascrystal @girlsneedlovingfanfics @raysunshine78 @melodyofmbaku @hearteyes-for-killmonger @silenceisplatinum @thickemadame @shookmcgookqueen @heykillmongerluhme @fonville-designs @cutewylie @allhailqueennel @10bsatatime @nickidub718 @lildashofmelanin @allhailqueennel @amirra88 @hakunalive4eva @thickemadame @ghostfacekill-monger @cherrystainedlipsbaby

#Erik Stevens #Erik Killmonger #erik stevens x reader #Erik Kilmonger #Erik killmonger x Reader #bp fanfic #bp fandom #bp masterlist #artisticestheticreads #ROXANNE SERIES

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 4 years ago

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Dying on PLA (Pure Love Alliance)

This post was written by a former BC who questioned an authority figure on PLA and experience life-threatening consequences.

I’ll start with this: the moment I was dying was when I felt my soul sinking into the ground during the PLA 2000 tour, in a lavish town house owned by The Unification Church in Kensington, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in London, UK. I was 16 when this all happened. For some reason, my soul wasn’t rising as you might imagine when people die, probably because it was too tired, instead, it sank. I was in a sleeping bag and surrounded by 300 other kids all in sleeping bags, lined up like goods in the grocery store with little room to walk. Asleep, I slowly realized that I was sinking through my sleeping bag, past my body, into the oriental rug and through hardwood floor, deep into the ground, creeping further and further below the foundation of the building. So I knew I was dying—but I didn’t feel the least bit sad or upset. In fact I was relieved—even ecstatic. It meant that the torment from my supposed fellow BCs would be over, that this pain from the infection raging through my body that left my neck, arms, wrists wrapped in puss filled bandages, and my body so fatigued (so. fatigued.) would be over. The ground felt cool, and was getting colder, and it was really actually quite refreshing.

How great would that be to not have to wake up? Who cares if these people found a dead girl in her sleeping bag in the morning. Good for them. They might be surprised but they’d get to spin some fantastic story about my soul paying indemnity for the crimes that my Japanese ancestors committed against the Koreans; that’s apparently how they were explaining my mysterious illness to friends— an illness that had my upper body oozing a relentless and embarrassing flow of thick yellow puss, that had me changing my bandages every hour if I had the energy and a clean bandage on me. I found out that this story was making the rounds through the 300 or so BCs who were also on that tour. Before that, someone who I went to summer camp with for years, actually asked nonplussed, if I was currently struggling with Satan. Another story that others hinted to was that I was fallen. Writer’s note: At that point in time, like many of you, I had not so much as held a boy’s hand, let alone kissed anyone, made out and definitely never lost my virginity. I was precocious, spirited, ballsy—like any teenager trying to find humor in strange places. Most things I did was for the sake of a good laugh. But I was in my heart a total straight arrow, and I believed in the church, seriously, like the best or worst of them.

On this trip, there were also elders who took me aside from the group dinners and recounted the amazing stories about my dad and what a great guy he was at the religious seminary, the New Yorker Hotel, Belvedere, etc. And then they would say; Why would you disappoint him so horribly?

I wouldn’t know exactly how much I was disappointing him because I was never allowed to call him or my mom, or make any phone calls for that matter. I was being guarded 24/7, my passport was locked up, I wasn’t allowed to sleep much (I would be kept up later and woken up earlier than the others), nor take showers, which caused, what I would later find to be a trio of life-threatening infections coursing through my body. I had a very different experience from other BCs who were free to eat, shower, and sleep.

When I felt like my soul must have been half a mile below ground. I stopped, because this was it. Then I felt something big—bigger than me, bigger than everything and everyone around me, pulling me up with the utmost urgency, and I knew that this big thing gave a damn— even if I didn’t. I snapped back to my body with a whiplash that woke me up, panting, freaking out. Even if I didn’t care to live (and I really didn’t), even if these 300 other people around me, even if my religion didn’t care, God, the universe, this force, without a doubt, cared violently. This is when I realized that God did not move exclusively through organized religion, he/it moves and vibrates in anything, in everything. So my direct relationship with this force was felt for the first time under those floorboards, separate from and despite the machinations of my religion.

I immediately woke up and saw in the reflection of this gigantic ornate gold mirror on the wall opposite me, what looked like at least 20-30 white, blue glowing shadows, all very tall, standing around me and the dozens of sleeping BCs around me. Who they were, I’m not sure, I was delirious, and more importantly I was terrified that I had almost died, and so willingly. I couldn’t go back to sleep. But now I had a fire in my stomach, to get through this alive and a rabid indignity against those who’d put me in this position, including myself. I would do right by the universe, by God, by surviving this.

I got here by making the mistake of questioning the director of the PLA on the modus operandi of the Pure Love Alliance, on Day 1 of the tour. My fellow BCs didn’t make the mistake of vocalizing the inconsistencies in the logic of posing as a non-denominational group when we were 99% BCs, they didn’t stand up for the not even 1 percent non-BC kids who didn’t have a choice but to read the Divine Principle and join our prayers. If you are too precocious with too many rhetorical questions for elders, you’ll see just how nasty and how quickly the machine will mobilize against you.

Why. During the previous PLA tour of 1999 I remember lying about our religious association when being interviewed by the local news in Birmingham, AL. We were vetted and instructed to withhold our association with the Unification Church so when a reporter asked me what I was, I responded “Lutheran"— my father’s previous religion before joining the church.

I hate lying about something as grand and dumb as my religion. I didn’t think that we needed to constantly lie, it frustrated me always having to hide the church from my school friends and I wanted to do away with the smoke and mirrors and live openly about this. So at the beginning of the 2000 tour that would be marching through the US in July and then marching through Europe in August, I went up to the director and I asked him: why can’t we be forthright about who we are, if we’re truly non-denominational?

I didn’t immediately realize what a total coward he was, I just thought he was an adult, he must have some good answers. But he pandered with half answers, trotted me around the ring with half baked logic all while getting increasingly upset and dismissive: you just don’t understand; this is much too complicated for you to understand (more upset); this is God’s will; do you want to go against God’s will? And I responded with: I think it’s pretty simple, God doesn’t need us to lie. We should be honest to the press and other churches about being associated with the UC. Otherwise we should stop calling ourselves non-denominational, right? The conversation went nowhere and I eventually walked away.

I was probably earmarked as being a troublemaker but it wasn’t that bad. At least in the beginning, I hung out with my BC friends, some of whom I’d been growing up with and all was well during the tour through the US.

It was when I noticed that there were 3 or 4 non-BC kids on the tour—how they were roped in to hang out with us nutjobs for two weeks, I’m not sure, but I know everyone looked at them with a special wonder. They were special to us because we were showing them that there was this great camaraderie and communal life that we had together amongst ourselves and we really believed that we were letting them in on something special.

I noticed that while we were reading the Divine Principle and praying in circles, they were expected to do the same with us, without any opportunity to decide for themselves whether or not they wanted to in the first place. This would be a small but important gesture to extend for any organization that called itself non-denominational to the outside world; to accept and respect people of other faiths; to let them have the opportunity to pray in their own way if they needed to. It really bothered me because it seemed wildly disrespectful and a bit dishonest. If I were traveling with a Christian youth group, wouldn’t I want the right to read the DP and pray my way at 5 am in the morning on Sundays?

It became a breaking point when late one night on a tour bus in Europe, I brought up the issue again during a bus reading of the DP, and I got pissed. I openly pointed out to the bus leaders the hypocrisy of a so-called non-denominational youth group posing as such to the press, all while not respecting the faiths of others on the tour.They said that this is how it’s done, that everyone does the same thing so that they can stick to the strict schedule to get through the tour. This is the will and mission of the PLA, this is God’s will, and we need to see it through. Then I said: If they aren’t allowed to choose, than I refuse to read the DP and refuse to join prayers until they do have the choice.

I’m not really sure why I cared so much but it was because I could see my bus leaders acknowledging my logic, I could see behind their eyes that they did. But they towed the line and refused to acknowledge that there was any right. But my refusal to pray or read DP, they took very, very seriously—yet in my mind, I wasn’t doing anything drastic, I wasn’t leaving the church. That would be crazy! I was just taking a stand.

These non-BC kids were, at least outwardly, complacent. But let’s be honest we were all 14, 15, 16 years old and expected to do everything en masse, but why shouldn’t they/we have the choice to read the DP or not? What was faith if it wasn’t a deliberate, and educated choice? Shouldn’t anyone be allowed the right to question things, if only to return with stronger answers?

As soon as I had this fight on the bus, that was when the horrible things really began. I was always being shaken awake on long rides when everyone else was allowed to fall asleep, even if only for an hour or two. Lack of sleep breaks you quickly. I wasn’t allowed to sleep with my friends, instead I always had sometimes two unnis sleeping and walking with me. I could mingle with others, but I was always being watched by them close by. I was escorted to bathrooms but never allowed to take a shower, they said I could take one later, but later never came until it was too late, after my infections had become so severe they couldn’t exactly ignore it.

It was 3 in the morning when the buses filled with BC teenagers and our wranglers parked on the curve of the fucking German autobahn to let us out. We were released into the cold night by our demented but well-meaning leaders, searching along the curve of the freeway in the wet grass and mud trying to find our suitcases. Let me repeat, 3 am, 300+ teenagers trudging in the dark along a sharp curve of the German autobahn before entering what, in my mind, was the Black Forest.

I don’t even remember who was in charge of me at that point but it seemed to be predetermined that one sister became my handler in Germany. She came out of the blue, barking at me to move out, and personally marched me into that forest, literally behind me nipping at my heels, always on the assumption that I would flee sideways, off the trail, deeper into the forest, to what, I don’t know. I had no desire to leave, I was just hungry and exhausted. When we reached the top it was a huge building that wasn’t even fully constructed with insulation hanging out and utility lights haphazardly nailed and dangling from the ceilings. It was in a huge large barn like space where we convened in a long line to finally get some split pea soup as dinner, and by the time I finally got some, someone knocked it out of my hand, on purpose? Who the fuck knows. I would have cried but I was too tired and I don’t need sympathy. Some other BCs said that was too bad, but my handler wouldn’t let me go back in line to get more. Instead, we had to pitch our tents in the mud incline below the barn, my tent mate was of course my ever-watchful unni/handler.

I’m not exactly sure how the tent stood up, it was lopsided because of the mud and the wet grass, and the incline, but once that was done I went to go brush my teeth, and saw behind the barn, a bunch of white statues staggered in a terrifying symmetry along the hill; literally, I don’t think I’d ever seen anything as frightening as those statues in the moonlight. They were the true family, ghostly white and with their arms outstretched like they were dancing, I went up to them unsure as to what they were. They were smooth and so white but when I touched them, they weren’t marble, just hollow and plastic—creepy, empty lawn furniture. And for the first time in my life I saw them as this insidious, careless force who either had no idea, or simply had no compassion for the ramifications of their will and franchise. That was the night when my perspective on everything started to shift.

I wasn’t allowed to shower the next day even though I could see my other friends lining up with their towels. And I was always ferried away from communal meals, to have a one on one with some important elder who would shame me for an hour. And it worked. I remember one guy telling me with beady eyes, rather emphatically, how disappointing this will be for my father, who’s such a good guy, everyone loves him, I don’t know him, but everyone loves him— when he finds out how I’ve been working against the mission. I really tried hard to imagine if my dad would be proud or disappointed in me for taking a stand but my thoughts fizzled into a murky question mark while I stared at the white statues now in daylight. I didn’t know the answer and I was so tired, exhausted and hungry, and I was beginning to slowly not care as much.

But I also began to resent these elders for believing that I was working against them, I wasn’t! I was only asking good questions! I was on their side, and I believed I was still a good person.

Instead of not really being able to hang out with my friends, I sensed they were also avoiding me. I remember incredulous looks. It got super lonely fast.

It was when one elder oppa along with a whole slew of younger oppas in training crowded around me in a circle in front of everyone after one march to give me a talk. "Stop setting a bad example to the other sisters, this is your last warning.” Their vague warning was made abundantly clear. Even if it wasn’t true, my generation believed that I was fallen and that’s why I was acting out…

At that point I didn’t even consider the sheer stupidity in this non-linear logic, clearly, I ruined my chances of a good match! That was the end for me. No one would want to be blessed to me and that was when I began to really lose it because it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t have an arranged marriage, that my trajectory would be anything less than what was expected of me, or any different from anyone else. Even when I was asking these people seemingly simple rhetorical questions, it didn’t mean that I wanted to leave. But I was beginning to realize that it would be impossible to have a happily ever after ending in the church.

I don’t remember France, France was a blur, I just felt sluggish and horrible, light sensitive the entire time, still wasn’t allowed to sleep much and was barred from the showers. I was hiding a nasty rash that was breaking out all over my skin by wearing a cardigan, the only cardigan that I had brought on the trip.

My illness was getting bad when we arrived in the posh neighborhood of Kensington, London. The buses unloaded this shocking fire hazard number of teenagers into one townhouse that strangely appeared to have a bullet proof vestibule and a security camera at the entrance which only added to my feeling that I was being held captive. Meanwhile, nobody else seemed to care about this detail, the fact that we were in a fucking compound. You wouldn’t know it from the unassuming white exterior that blended in with the row of townhouses exactly like all the others in the neighborhood.

I remember after marching through Leicester Square, my subgroup broke off to Trafalgar Square where we shouted our testimonies at one of the fountains and anyone else who would care to stop, but no one did. My leader wasn’t really convinced by my conviction to Pure Love. It was a bit hard, being exhausted, with a fever, to be shouting about Pure Love all while being slut shamed by my generation for no good reason at all. I didn’t really feel like shouting, I just wanted rest and to be alone.

My illness was getting from bad to worse quickly, I had a fever, felt hot, then clammy cold, sweating bullets, in addition to huge open sores spreading on my neck and arms, but whenever I asked to see a Dr. they wouldn’t allow it, I later realized it wasn’t because of money, even after I offered to pay myself, it was because they were afraid that I would talk about everything happening on the tour. It hadn’t even occurred to me to go public with any of this. With what? I didn’t know that there was a story, how bad it really was until afterward.

I did finally get to take a shower in London, I think because that was more reasonable than covering up a dead girl, probably. But the shower didn’t help at that point. Whatever was happening with the sores, it was also in my blood, I felt exhausted, jumpy, crazy, sensitive to light, miserable. When they wouldn’t let me see a doctor, when the pus was spilling out of my bandages and running down my neck, running down my arms, like in some horror film, I begged them to at least let me go to a pharmacy to buy bandages, Neosporin and hydrogen peroxide. They agreed so long as a brother escorted me, a tall one who could easily outrun me if it came to it.

Maybe it was because they were making such a huge deal to keep me on watch that I began to fantasize about getting away. Not to tell on anyone or anything, with no agenda in mind, I just wanted to go home. I asked if I could get my passport and my ticket to try and go home early but that was not possible. I just wanted to get away and so on our way to one rally, I had this brilliant idea and I jumped out of a subway train and onto the platform, I only ran 5 steps before I was yanked back into the train by my unni. After that everyone thought I was totally nuts and definitely pure evil. I had no idea where I was planning to go, I think I was just going to ask directions to a hospital— at that point my sores on my upper body were just getting bigger and were oozing, no amount of soaking the sores in hydrogen peroxide or neosporin would help. It was embarrassing because it was pus and blood soaking through my bandages and into my shirts that I could only rotate so many times. People on the subway and in public were furtively staring at me, they probably smelled the disease on me, but I couldn’t ask for their help.

In my mind today, my older self rewrites the history of that trip. In my older self’s version: I’m unstoppable even though I’m sick. In a fit of manic strength, I jump out of the train, out run my guard, and I don’t stop running until I get to a doctor or to a police station, whichever happens first — then I seek protection at the US embassy despite not having a passport or money on me, and then I get to all major news outlets and I expose this youth group for their psychological and physical abuse, and for misleading the public on the PLA. By doing so, I set a chain of events on an international scale that would bring to light all of the questionable things we’ve had to quietly endure. I put a small chink in the church’s armor and it all comes crashing down. I save my fellow BCs from a life without an educated choice to believe or not, from the waste of time spent fundraising for a thankless institution while their families struggle to get by, in questionable matchings, in a sad, vicious cycle.

In actuality, after nearly dying in a sleeping bag, I’m too tired but crazy alert and a day and a half later I’m somehow on my way to Heathrow airport via the subway. On the way there I fall asleep hugging my backpack, only to wake up to find that other passengers are just looking at me horrified; my bandages had soaked through again, I was pouring pus onto my backpack. I’m so embarrassed for alarming these strangers but there’s nothing I can do, I had changed my bandages only an hour before hand, right before leaving the townhouse. All I can do is zip up my anorak and hope I can rinse these out later.

Finally at Heathrow, I’m handed my plane ticket and finally, my passport and it turns out that the tour is over. I can’t even believe it but the elders, including my handler, are walking away to catch their own planes. I curb my hysteria and get to a pay phone where I finally call my parents in Seattle on a collect call, and I’m freaking out, I’m worried that someone will come out from nowhere and cut the line, capture me, throw me in a white van, what with my luck.

My parents are so happy to hear from me! How are you kiddo? I have to fight to keep from sobbing, I’m shattering and yelling, focusing on just one thing: that they have to get me to a doctor as soon as I land, I keep repeating this until my dad promises and repeats this to me. I’m scared I just might drop dead right then and there. Once I’m appeased, I take deep breaths to cool down and I ask my mom if anyone in her family did anything to the Koreans during the occupation. She doesn’t understand the question until I explain to her the theory behind one of these rumors.

The line went quiet.

My dad doesn’t know what to say, but my mom blew her top, she was furious.

In my mother’s adorable, hot headed Japanese mom fashion, she emphatically starts yelling into the phone about how my ancestors did nothing. No one in my family served, and in fact, my family was socially ostracized for years for accepting a Korean family who were on hard times into their farming community in Shizuoka prefecture. (see Footnote)

She was furious and I think stormed away from the phone but I was happy to know, without a doubt, that this dark age posturing was completely ridiculous. My sense of what was reality and what wasn’t was a bit diminished in my daze the past few days, I was glad to have my intellect reinforced.

My parents collect me at the airport and are stunned by the shape I’m in. The doctor explains that I have several severe infections, a staph (staphylococcal) infection and impetigo— a highly contagious bacterial infection on my skin, but it was progressing as an infection in my blood—septicemia, which would have killed me in 48 hours without medical attention. I’m given a heavy flow of an antibiotic cocktail and I’m closely monitored. When I do get home, I can hardly move, and if I’m not sleeping or sitting in a mineral bath, I’m taking antibiotics and trying to heal my skin in time for the new school that I’m transferring to. But in every waking moment, I’m trying to make sense of the previous two weeks. I tell my parents that I’m no longer in the church and they don’t even put up a fight. We don’t talk about it but they can hardly believe what happened to me.

From that point on, I’ve kept my distance from every BC. I partially hold it against them for being complacent, for not chiming in with me, for not seeing the fatal flaws that were so obvious to me. I hold it against them for not standing up for me when they saw the quiet abuse that I went through. For not speaking up for me when people were effectively spreading lies about me. But I realize they didn’t really know me enough, or really even know what was going on all around us at the time, or themselves for that matter. And if I were them instead of me, would I do it any differently?

I hold it against the church for breeding ignorance and stupidity in its members and families; encouraging them to have upwards 10 kids before they can even think about what it means to really take care of them, giving them a real, true education and a fulfilling life; for grinding these families into poverty, a life partially lived on food stamps, for what exactly, I’m still not sure; for collectively instilling this insidious belief that it’s women who are always at fault/responsible in all situations and who carry the onus of Eve’s imprint on the Fall; that men are never to blame/never responsible and therefore unaccountable creatures save for their purpose of begetting a blessed family; that if you’re about to be raped, it’s your duty to kill yourself—not defend yourself and your right to live—before it gets to that; that you are anything less in God’s eyes if you are raped; that our sexuality is a fixed binary without room to account for a full spectrum within ourselves that acknowledges and respects humanity in its entirety—homosexuality and all. I hold the Church responsible for the deaths of BCs I knew, but that’s a longer, separate story.

When and where it all went bad for the Unification Church, I don’t know. I know it was a beautiful thing when my parents joined, I truly believe that they were meant to be together. It was something that I believed in with my whole heart when I was little. I do in fact believe that I’m a blessed child— I have no doubt that there’s a divinity in me, but I know there’s a divinity in everyone, BC or not. Our lives should be lived acknowledging and honoring that little spark, that bit of magic in each of us. It’s that simple.

My only regret in leaving the church at 16 was leaving behind my fellow BCs, especially the younger ones who have no one to advocate for their choice to question. I know they’re struggling or have struggled against parents and elders who are even more forceful and too scared to ask the same questions themselves. I know their questions are harder because they haven’t seen what I have in such crazy, sharp relief. It was made almost too clear to me but for them their experience is slower, blurred and more broken. I have dreams where I’m fighting for them, but I have to leave them behind to fight my own battles. I can hardly think about the church for very long without feeling the most violent, extreme emotions, mostly on behalf of my fellow BCs. It’s part of the reason why I’ve kept away for as long as I have, I’ve forgotten names and faces, and while I’ve forgiven the church for what it’s done to me, I will never forgive what it’s done to the thousands of individuals and families raised in almost poverty because of it. In my heart, it’s not hate, it’s justice, it’s right and wrong, clean. In my heart, I am a fucking vigilante, and part of what propels me is to vindicate them. I fantasize about doing well enough in life, to have enough money so that I can buy up each of the church’s properties so that I can burn them all down to the ground, in the name of all my fellow BCs. If there is one thing that I can thank the church, it’s for making me a fiercely passionate person. To this day, I don’t think anyone can hold a candle to the flames that burn in our hearts.

Life outside of the church is hard, reprogramming the way you consider everything never ends. Dating still feels impossible even after 10 years at it. But it’s so beautiful, it’s so varied and complex and breathtaking— the multitudes, the possibilities that I’ve experienced and are still at my feet. It’s always up to me, every mistake, triumph, difficulty and opportunity is up to me, and I’m so grateful that my conclusions are my conclusions even if it’s a process. As stupid or sad as this story is, I’m grateful for it because now I have a tenacity that rivals most anything. Now, almost 14 years later, I am a fucking panther and I don’t let anyone or anything take me down. Nothing fools me, no situation happens without my consent, and I live life fully, authentically, deliberately and always on my terms. And I want that for every single BC, in the church or not.

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Silra said: This makes me so sad. I’m an ex British moonie and the PLA was a last straw for me. I was 12 during that time and remember rumours being rife amongst all the BCs. I had to say my testimony at Leicester Square where my dad was super proud. Little did he know I wasn’t happy and the rumour mill was ripe with bullshit about me. I’m sorry you had to go through that.

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Footnote

The Unification Church heavily guilt tripped the Japanese members about the Japanese occupation of Korea (1910-1945), and about the Korean ‘Comfort Women’. To understand the psychology of this manipulation used during recruitment, see:

Japanese woman recruited by the Unification Church and sold to an older Korean farmer in an ‘apology marriage’

To understand more about the Korean ‘Comfort Women�� issue see:

The Comfort Women controversy

This ‘Comfort Women’ research is very important for all Japanese members. For some perspective, here is an extract from a piece from the New York Times. There were more Korean ‘Comfort Women’ serving the US military from 1950 than ever served the Japanese military during the colonial period.

New York Times:

Ex-Prostitutes Say South Korea and U.S. Enabled Sex Trade Near Bases By Choe Sang-Hun January 7, 2009

SEOUL, South Korea. South Korea has railed for years against the Japanese government’s waffling over how much responsibility it bears for one of the ugliest chapters in its wartime history: the enslavement of women from Korea and elsewhere to work in brothels serving Japan’s imperial army. 

Now, a group of former prostitutes in South Korea have accused some of their country’s former leaders of a different kind of abuse: encouraging them to have sex with the American soldiers who protected South Korea from North Korea. They also accuse past South Korean governments, and the United States military, of taking a direct hand in the sex trade from the 1960s through the 1980s, working together to build a testing and treatment system to ensure that prostitutes were disease-free for American troops. 

While the women have made no claims that they were coerced into prostitution by South Korean or American officials during those years, they accuse successive Korean governments of hypocrisy in calling for reparations from Japan while refusing to take a hard look at South Korea’s own history. 

“Our government was one big pimp for the U.S. military,” one of the women, Kim Ae-ran, 58, said in a recent interview. 

Scholars on the issue say that the South Korean government was motivated in part by fears that the American military would leave, and that it wanted to do whatever it could to prevent that. 

But the women suggest that the government also viewed them as commodities to be used to shore up the country’s struggling economy in the decades after the Korean War. They say the government not only sponsored classes for them in basic English and etiquette meant to help them sell themselves more effectively but also sent bureaucrats to praise them for earning dollars when South Korea was desperate for foreign currency. 

“They urged us to sell as much as possible to the G.I.’s, praising us as ‘dollar-earning patriots,’ ” Ms. Kim said. ...

The Comfort Women controversy

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#PLA #Pure Love Alliance #Moonies #Sun Myung Moon #Unification Church #CARP #Japanese occupation of Korea #Comfort Women

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