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wtf-yoongi · 5 years ago

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Stage lights. ‹‹part III of III››

pairing | jungkook x reader

summary | you visit jungkook on tour for the first time

genre/warnings | high levels of fluff + relatively new relationship + warning: features jk being extremely tired in between sets + but it’s ok because you look after him afterwards and now my heart is clenching

words | about 7k total (part III is 2,565)

✨ read part I here ✨

☁️ read part II here ☁️

note | kinda belongs in the same universe as this one, but can be read separately. i got carried away and wrote this huge thing, so i decided to separate it into three parts *laughs* kinda sad this is over and totally devastated by jk’s last words let me warn ya

When the show’s all over, things feel completely different. The messy room is even messier – but no one really cares at this point, collecting items at a much slower pace. People are talking more loudly now, laughing more freely, knowing that the work is done and that it was yet another successful night.

You leave your worries in a box in the back of your mind, although you can still hear Jungkook’s words echoing inside your head every now and then. When you look at him now, it’s almost impossible to think that this is the same person that left the stage mid-concert like that – even after having performed the rest of it. He looks a little worn out, yes, but happy and satisfied. Everyone has recovered from the intense final act, changed into more comfortable clothes, put on hats and beanies to cover some of the weirdly sticky hair – and positively look like any other person in the world after a day at work.

With the tension gone from the room, you feel much more comfortable now – not like you belong, but like you fit in enough. The same goes for when you move from the messy room to another one filled with tables, Jungkook taking your hand on your way there and telling you all they serve is Korean food, playfully adding that you could only eat rice if you wanted.

He was joking, of course.

Even if things could get weird – and you predicted them to – they really don’t. Jungkook leads you to a table that sits six and the seat next to you, that you would expect to remain empty, is soon taken by a smiling Hae. Namjoon sits in front of you and all of a sudden the table is full.

Conversation flows as easily as possible when two languages are being spoken and not all people can fully understand both – and it warms your heart to see everyone at least try for your sake. Jin even stood up at one point to do an impersonation of an annoying American interviewer and you felt the need to apologize for the whole country in between laughs and red cheeks.

When everyone is done eating and drinking, you stand up again, moving back to the messy room for long enough to pick up your personal belongings. Jungkook said you would be taking a van back to the hotel downtown and you nod as you feel him take your hand again to walk through the halls you came in earlier in the day. A few moments before stepping foot outside, though, he lets go abruptly.

You don’t mean to look at him like that, but you do it anyway. From the concerned look on his face, you must appear surprised and hurt in equal parts.

“Sorry, bad habit,” he apologizes, but doesn’t take your hand back. “I can’t really be seen with anyone, so I don’t usually… Even when there’s no one around…”

“Oh…” You nod and your expression changes again. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, there’s really nothing…”

“You’ll have to teach me these things, you now? Let me know when I have to do or stop doing something,” you say, now noticing how close you two are and taking a few steps away from Jungkook. “Do we have to keep a safe distance? I’m not being ironic, really, I’m just asking,” you add as you see his face fall.

He snorts, moving a little bit more awkwardly and brushing a hair strand out of his face. “Kinda, yeah.”

“It’s really ok, I don’t mind taking a few precautions,” you reassure him, turning your body and taking a few steps backwards so he can see you better. You point at the black baseball cap on your head and smile.

He smiles back at your words and doesn’t say anything even after you pile up in the van along with other people, opting for just taking your hand again and squeezing it tightly.

The ride back to the city is silent, conversation between everyone dying down the further away you are from the stadium. It seems, you think, exhaustion finally hits. You feel it too, eyes heavy as the adrenaline and nervousness from it all aren’t running through your veins anymore. You raise your eyes just enough to see Jungkook staring outside with dreamy and tired ones, ready to rest your head on his shoulder and nap until you get to your destination.

When your eyes open again, the van has stopped and Jungkook is slowly running his left hand through your hair to wake you up.

“We’re here,” he says slowly and you straighten your body to see people are lazily leaving the van. He laughs lightly. “Can’t believe you didn’t wake up with the screaming outside. I had to close the curtains.”

You’re in what seems to be the back of the building now and your brain finally tells you there’s noise going on, a not-so-distant high-pitched cheering. It gets very loud, then it calms down again, and you notice another van pulling up next to yours.

“Sorry,” you apologize out of habit and Jungkook shakes his head lightly, nudging you to move towards the door with a small smile on his face.

You fix the crooked cap on top of your head and blink a few times to wake up a little better, finally getting up to leave. Outside, you can only see a reduced number of staff members and you assume this hotel really isn’t for everyone – much less the number of people you saw working earlier in the day.

When outside, you wait for Jungkook and follow him into the backdoor. There’s a tiny elevator only a few steps into the building and people are waiting to go up in groups of three or four. It takes a while, but you eventually find yourself in a long corridor, dragging your feet through the carpeted floor.

“Tired?” Jungkook asks, stopping in front of a door and touching the key card to the lock.

“Don’t think I can say that after today,” you admit with a scoff. “And it’s still early in New York, I shouldn’t be this sleepy.”

“How early?”

“Google says there’s a six-hour difference,” you say, entering the room after Jungkook and immediately moving to relieve your shoulders from the weight of your backpack. “So, yeah, still early.”

When you look around the room, it looks lived in, but not nearly as disorganized as you expected it to be. You know Jungkook has slept here already and it seems like room service wasn’t allowed. The bed is still kind of messy, but in a comfortable and inviting way – the way freshly made hotel beds never are.

Next to his open suitcase, you see yours, though – and that’s how you know at least someone has access to this room with the exception of Jungkook himself. It is pressed to the wall perfectly and you notice there’s a foreign, fancy paper bag sitting on top.

“What is this?” You ask, turning back to Jungkook, who’s placing his jacket inside the closet. “This isn’t mine.”

“It isn’t from me, sorry to disappoint,” he smirks. “Open up, let’s see what’s inside.”

You slowly walk towards your suitcase, taking the bag with one hand to open it up with the other. When you look inside, you see a box of fancy pastries and a note.

“It’s from Hae,” you say and turn the note around to read the small message written in delicate handwriting. You laugh lightly. “Oh, you’re going to love this.”

“What? What does it say?” He asks from inside the bathroom. His voice is now muffled from brushing his teeth and you can’t help but laugh even more.

“Here’s what she wrote. Her words, ok?” You warn before continuing. “I hope it’s ok I’m writing you this. You’re American, you make friends quickly, right? It was great meeting you today and I can see why Jungkook won’t stop talking about you sometimes. He will never admit to doing this, though. Hope you have a great stay with us. XOXO Hae. P.s.: I’ve always wanted to write XOXO to someone. And then she finishes with a smiley face. How cute is that?”

“I love that you find it cute when she throws me under the bus like that,” he says, taking a towel to pat his lips dry. “I’m going to have a serious conversation with her.”

“But there’s food.” You show him the light colored box.

“She’s good, isn’t she? Diplomatic Hae.”

“She is. She brought me coffee before the show,” you say with a smile. “You told her I like macchiatos.”

“She asked me what kind of coffee you liked. I told you, she’s nice,” he shrugs. “You want to take a shower first?”

“Nah, you can go,” you say, putting the fancy bag on top of a side table. “I still have to open my suitcase, get my stuff and all…”

“Ok.”

From the corner of your eye you can see Jungkook reaching for the door in order to close it, but stopping midway for some reason. He widens his eyes a little, taking steps in the direction of his own suitcase.

“I have to grab some things,” he says with a weak laugh, lowering his body to reach for what looks like a pair of shorts and something else you can’t quite figure out. “Not on my own today, can’t walk around naked, can I?”

You take advantage of the fact that he can only see your side profile to simply shrug, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction from his words.

Thank God he can’t properly see your face.

When you open the bathroom door again, you feel relaxed – every muscle in your body a little bit too loose to function correctly. You put your head out to see Jungkook sitting in the middle of the bed, his legs spread out to both sides, with his big iPad in hand – you know he’s exhausted, but you also know him well enough. He will refuse to fall asleep while you’re not there with him.

“Hair dryer?”

“Oh…” He moves slowly, getting up again and reaching for it inside a random drawer. “There you go.”

“I thought you would blow dry yours.”

“I was going to, but too lazy,” he admits with a small smile. “It’s ok, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll do it for you if you want me to,” you offer. “Come on.”

“You should just do yours, I…”

“Come on…”

You grab Jungkook by the hand, making him sit on the bed again and looking for the nearest power outlet.

“Let me baby you just for a little bit, ok?” You smile fondly at him, leaning in to lightly kiss his lips for the first time in hours. When you do it, you definitely feel like you should kiss more often. Much more often.

“If this is about today, I already told you I…”

“It isn’t about today,” you interrupt delicately, still holding his face close. “I have a feeling nothing I say will make you work in a more… Balanced way. Am I wrong? You don’t even need to say anything, I know I’m not.”

Jungkook laughs and his shoulders tense a little bit. “Yeah, people have mentioned this to me.”

“Well, if I’m not the only one… Maybe you should start considering it?” You half-ask, turning the hair dryer on. “Wow, this is surprisingly quiet. You own a fancy one, huh?”

You move your left hand through his hair calmly and Jungkook closes his eyes, his stance relaxing almost immediately. While you’re there, you also take the opportunity to brush your hand against his ears and neck a few times and you feel like he could fall asleep right there if it wasn’t for the low, but still a little annoying, hair dryer sound.

When you turn it off, you move your fingers to mess with his long bangs. “I noticed earlier your hair looks more healthy and fluffy.”

“The part that was bleached before grew out,” he answers lowly, his eyes still closed. “Do you like it like this?”

“Yeah, sure. Do you?”

“I like that it is easier to make it look decent,” he laughs quietly and finally opens his eyes. “Do you want me to blow-dry your hair?”

“Oh, no, you should go to bed, I’ll just…”

“Come on,” he repeats your words from minutes before. “Let me baby you a little too.”

Jungkook doesn’t stand up to blow-dry your hair, deciding to just stay seated and pull you down close to him. You have your back to him now and he’s careful to not miss any section, moving from side to side thoroughly. Having him play with your hair also relaxes your mind even further and a few more minutes pass before you’re turning back to him.

“It’s ok,” you take the tool from his hands to turn it off. “You don’t have to blow-dry it 100%, it’s going to take too long.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we’re both tired, let’s just go to sleep.”

You don’t have to say it twice. As you place the hair dryer next to the bed somewhere, not even bothering to stand up again to take it back to it’s original place, Jungkook is already turning around on the bed and pulling you by the hand to lay next to him.

“I already said this, but thanks for coming,” he inhales deeply, snuggling into your side as you’re both trying to make yourselves comfortable. “I know it’s hard, but… If you can, you should come more often.”

“You should go to New York more often too,” you say and your voice becomes quieter when the next words leave your lips. “I miss you all the time.”

Jungkook smiles warmly at you and brings one of your hands closer to him. “I will. It’s my turn now anyway,” he assures you and leaves a kiss on your wrist. “And I miss you all the time, too. Actually, I bet I miss you more.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because I do.”

“Oh, so you just got to that conclusion inside your little head?” You chuckle, bringing the hand that is already closer to him to trace his face. Even now, exhausted and ready to pass out, you don’t think Jungkook glows any less.

“Exactly.”

A few moments pass and you feel yourself begin to give in to sleep. The room is completely quiet now with the exception of your light breathing and legs moving to fit in a little better. Jungkook’s body is warm just like the last time you were like this and you wish, from the bottom of your heart, to always sleep by his side for as long as you’re alive.

All of a sudden, you hear his voice again.

“Are you still awake?” He asks, voice not above a whisper. When you open your eyes, Jungkook is staring longingly at you and it takes a second for you to catch your breath.

You nod with the tiniest of smiles, reaching out to touch the arm that is lazily draped across your waist. “Yeah, is there anything wrong?”

“No, not wrong, but… I think I’m in love with you.”

Read more ›› masterlist

#jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook one shot #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfic

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marikaaajoy · 5 years ago

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my relationship with digital art and how BNHA salvaged it

I just wanted to let out my thoughts but I can only do it here :>

This might be a downer for some people but I’d like to share it with people here. BNHA means the world to me and this is why.

I first started drawing when I was 7 years old in 2006

I think it’s ugly now, but 7 year old me remembered being so proud of this because this is a drawing of my stepfather. This is the only drawing I have that was from my childhood. I think the aim here is to draw in anime style BUT I didn’t even watch anime back then. I had a classmate who loves anime and she taught me to draw in school. Drawing became a favorite hobby immediately after that.

Then it was 2013 and I was 14 years old. Drawing is still my favorite thing to do besides being on the computer. I love anime at this point too. My parents bought an iPad for the whole family, but I was almost always the one using it. I discovered an app called ArtStudio and thought “Wow, I can draw without making a mess and with only my fingers” because I was always too lazy to take out my drawing materials and clean up afterwards.

These were my first digital drawings. The pirate one was the very first. I got obsessed real fast. I can color so easily, undo any mistake, layers are a blessing too. There was just so much more freedom. I always sucked at coloring in traditional art and I didn’t like the mess (idk my hands get so messy traditionally)

The next year, it was 2014, I was 15. My birthday is in a couple of months and I knew my parents were planning to buy me something pricey (I think it was a laptop) so I approached them and asked if they could just buy the Wacom Bamboo as a present which was cheaper anyway and I even explained how it works to them and how it would allow me to draw on the computer instead of the iPad. I tried really hard to be convincing. I would have prepared a powerpoint presentation if I had to.

They did give me the wacom as a present. They even gave it to me months before my birthday so I could use it already. I thought I was the luckiest teen in the world with my parents.

These are a collection of my favorite works from 2014 to 2016. The middle one was my second drawing using wacom and Paint Tool SAI. I was a part of a lot of fandoms in those years lol

It gets downhill from there :/

April 2016, my mom and I moved to Japan, while my stepfather and siblings stay in my country. It was tough. For someone who is obsessed with anime, you’d think I’d be thrilled to live in Japan.

I was. Though only at the first few months. It’s not the same as it’s portrayed in anime (I should’ve known but I used to be blinded by anime). It was just lonely. The language barrier sucked and then lots of financial and family issues until my parents split. I got my first boyfriend too and I thought I was blessed by the nicest boy, but the relationship became extremely toxic but I didn’t have it in me to walk away.

All the shit that happened affected me mentally and emotionally. My biggest outlet which was digital drawing, was also out of the question because I did not have a computer/laptop when we moved to Japan. We left it in our home for my stepfather and siblings, even the iPad. I have my wacom with me, but no computer/laptop to use it with. I couldn’t draw.

I tried though. I used my phone to draw, but it wasn’t the same. Then the life problems got piled up, things got worse, and I just lost motivation in anything. Literally anything. From 2016 to 2019, I stopped watching anime, I dropped out of all the fandoms I’m in, I stopped watching my favorite TV series or movies, and I stopped drawing. I even got a bit disconnected with my friends who lived in my country (we talk regularly online). My family was broken so I gave all my attention to my toxic relationship as well which made everything worse too lol

I didn’t draw besides from a few scribbles and the drawings above. I did try digital art on my phone a couple of times again and even posted them on my IG, but they weren’t any good. Eventually, I got mentally and emotionally drained and dropped out of senior high school. I just stayed home for almost a year, leeching off of my mom. I felt even more worthless and my life had no direction at this point. Nothing mattered anymore.

April 2019 or so I think, my (ex)bf bought me a laptop. He says it’s a gift, but I think the real reason was to make up for something horrible that he did (which is stupid because money /gifts won’t resolve anything). I have a laptop. I can draw again, but I didn’t. I didn’t care, I wasn’t interested in drawing anymore anyway.

Welp. June 2019, I went back to my country. My (ex) bf stayed in Japan. The distance helped me end the relationship and my friends were there (they always were) to help put me back together along with two trips to therapy. I went back to finish my senior high school in my own country this time. That said, I have to stay in my country for school (but I was happy because I didn’t wanna go back to Japan yet when the breakup was still fresh and with going back to school, my life has a direction again.)

It was weird. I remember just being sorta lost and confused because I used to put my time, effort and everything into my previous toxic relationship, which was now gone. I was free and I had so much free time that I didn’t know what to do with it. I got so used to doing nothing and being nothing.

This is where BNHA enters.

Dunno when it started, but I started seeing Bakugou frequently online. It’s usually just Bakugou. I knew who he was because my friend suggested BNHA to me back in late 2018 I think but I didn’t watch it since I’ve lost interest in everything at that point in my life.

But ye I thought he hot af but I still didn’t watch BNHA.

But then for some reason he REALLY kept appearing in my social medias and it was really frequent. The last straw was when I saw a pic of him in UA’s gym uniform and thought “damn boi aight imma watch bnha for u” (y’all gotta admit he looks good in those colors with his combat boots XD )

I watched BNHA. Fell in love with Iida along the way. Then I switched to Tokoyami (but Shoji was hot too so aaaaa), but then angry emotionally-constipated sea urchin head caught my heart again. But oof. BakuDeku moments really made me feel some type of way I haven’t felt since I moved to Japan. It felt new but nostalgic. I fell hard in that ship.

I started obsessing. From memes to posts to fanfictions to buying merch to filling my room with BNHA posters. I realized I was reverting to my old self from the time I was still happy and it was thanks to BNHA (and the good people who helped me through the worst too)

Shit I wanted to draw BNHA, I thought.

I mean, I have a laptop, I still have my wacom and drawing softwares. I could totally draw digitally again if I wanted to.

But guess what

I can’t :c

My hand physically cannot draw. My drawings don’t look the way I want them too. 3 years of not drawing really destroyed any skill I had. I was back to square one.

September (yeah they’re ugly, I laughed at it). If you’re wondering why I drew on paper, it’s because, for some reason, I really CANNOT draw digitally. I mean it. I can barely sketch digitally at this point. The lines and shapes just doesn’t come to life. They’re just scribbles. But somehow, I can kinda draw on paper with a ballpoint pen. But yeah, that was the best I could do at this point in my life

After that, I still tried to draw, to regain my old art style, but it didn’t happen... It just doesn’t look or feel the same. Drawing used to be fun. But during this phase, it felt like my ugly drawings were just mocking me (probably was just too emo that time lol)

Weirdly, around a week or two I think, after my half-assed attempts at drawing, I managed to draw digitally somehow o.o

I did a Midoriya and Todoroki drawing like this too. It was my first post here on Tumblr I think. The annoying part here is that I cannot draw digitally unless I draw on paper first, take a pic, and then trace the lineart. I couldn’t draw directly on the computer. Granted, drawing on paper and drawing on digital is very different for me in the first place anyway. But it was still a pain. And it still looked like shit. I can only draw stiff poses :/ it seems like my brain decided to delete all data about anatomy and posture and backgrounds. My lineart here is even messy af. It still really not the same as my old style.

By 2020, I think I got my old art style back. On March, I made this. This took me 27 total of hrs to make.

Right now, I think it’s not bad, but back in March, I was disappointed with the result. This is when I finally broke down crying because it didn’t look good enough and I hated that it took me 27 hrs to draw “bullshit.” I was angry at myself for losing interest in drawing for 3 years when I could’ve used that time to improve. I had to start all over again and it still didn’t look good. (Current me thinks that the drawing above is alright. I was just a lot harsher to myself back then. Used to have a lot of issues but I’m doing great now)

I cried myself to sleep that night. Woke up wanting to cry again. I wallowed in sadness for a couple of days. Eventually told my friends what’s up. Got some pep talk. Even talked to my sister (she’s great, she always hypes me up with my stuff and sometimes I think she’s my biggest fan with how she appreciates my drawings and I’m really grateful for that).

My world turned a 180 and I was weirdly positive after all that crying because brain chemicals and shit. I had a revelation. If I hate how my art style looked so much, then I should have been putting effort in changing my art style, not trying to regain my old art style (that I don’t like anymore)

I researched a lot. I analyzed different art styles and anatomy again. I did everything I could think of to find a style that works for me. I might have even neglected school for a bit to focus on digital art lmao

After all that work, I posted a fanart of middle school BakuDeku in their classroom. I love that fanart so much even if I probably have better ones by now because that was the first fanart I made that I felt like I could be proud of and it was the first one I made in my new art style. It was a milestone for me.

March 2020, I moved back to Japan and without the toxic relationship, I’m a lot positive now. Happy. I’m myself again after the previous bad years. I’m still continuously learning though, trying to improve, but at least, now, I found my own art style :) I really suck at interacting with people online, but I’m always grateful for the support everyone has been giving my fanarts. I’m happy when my content makes people happy.

This is why BNHA is important to me. The series is great alone, but it’s not just that to me. BNHA is so much more. It’s what made me find the passion to create again, only this time, it’s focused on drawing (I used to write, but now I just draw, but maybe I’ll write again for BNHA).

My family is supportive with my love for BNHA, but I think they don’t know the deeper reason why I love it. Sure, I was fine living on with nothing much going on in my life. I’ll finish school, get a job, work until I die or something. It was okay. It was the way of life. But BNHA gave my life color again. I wasn’t just blindly going through life anymore. I have something to look forward to everyday now. BNHA even became a bridge to other things. Ever since then, I’m a lot more open to people, to try new things, to explore and not just live through life and waste away. I got better at leaving my comfort zone. I’ve never been happier in my life :D

Thank you for supporting my fanarts. Thank you so much for giving me a chance to express myself through BNHA. I hope to make more content in the future and improve even more :)

#plus ultra #<3 #personal

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captainofthebrokentides · 5 years ago

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Briefcases and Bloodspatter: Chapter 5: Benny doesn’t share food!!

Hello all, thought I’d get another update in while I could. I know this one is a bit filler-ish. I hope you all enjoy it though, I needed to get the story rolling through though!

Liv had just managed to tidy up a bit and throw on a t shirt and a pair if shorts before there was a knock at her hotel room door. Quickly she checked her reflection in the mirror – she’d managed to tame her hair into a long plait and luckily she’d yet to take her subtle make up off.

She opened the door and smiled at Benny, who stood patiently at the threshold. He hadn’t stopped to change out of his work out wear, and she look a moment to enjoy his exposed arm muscles. He had fixed his hair though.

“I’m really sorry for dragging you out this late.” She started to apologise, stepping out the way so he could come past her and enter the room.

“No need to apologise, didn’t I say call me whenever you need me?” He shot her a cheeky grin and winked “Quite sad you’ve put clothes on though, the towel dress was a good look.”

“But a chilly one.” She closed the door and followed him into the depths of the room. He took a seat on a plush green armchair and looked around.

“It’s a nice hotel room you’ve got here.”

“Thank you, you actually get to see inside it this time.” She laughed and grabbed a pair of glasses from the under-desk cabinet. “Can I get you a drink?” she waved the bottle of wine and glasses at him.

“A drink would be great. Thank you.”

“Well, I have a bottle of white wine here, or water, or I can call room service to get you a scotch?”

“White wine is fine, no need to fuss.” Benny got up from his chair and came over to her smiling warmly. He took the bottle in one hand and placed the other on the small of her back, nudging her toward the seating area. She couldn’t help but replicate his smile, his small gesture was so familiar – commanding and gentle – completely Benny Colon.

They both sat in the chairs and Benny poured them each a glass of wine. A moment of comfortable silence fell over the room as they sipped their drinks.

“So, what did you find? Benny asked putting his glass down and imperceptivity shifting into business Benny mode, his expression serious.

“After you’d left this afternoon, I managed to collate and package up those semen samples. I ran a whole barrage of tests – potency, virility, DNA markers, age verification …”

Benny grimaced “You can run a test for that?”

Liv nodded and took a gulp of her wine. “Well, yeah, every man’s sperm is like a signature to them. One of a kind if you like. It’s kind of an off shoot from the DNA markers. It’s also how we check for any present illnesses that may show up in a sperm count.”

Benny nodded and gestured for her to continue.

“Anyway, the vast majority of it belongs to Brandon – as we expected. But, there’s sperm there that doesn’t fit his DNA markers.”

“So that means … he wasn’t just having sex with women on that boat …”

“Exactly. And according to my test results we’re looking for an older man. Cable sent me a few hits, I just need to go through them and pinpoint before we put the cat among the pigeons.”

Benny furrowed his brow in confusion. “But I thought it was all individual?”

Liv nodded, “It is. But it’s easier to pull correct 99.9% accurate results when you have a ‘living’ sample to compare it to. This sample is a mere smidgen and faded on material, it’s harder to pull a correct reading straight off. Comparisons are harder.”

“I’m sure this will help us, somehow. Thank you.”

Liv shrugged, “It’s all part of my job.” She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. Benny’s eyes instantly fell to the strip of flesh that peeked out with the movement. “Sorry to call you out in the dead of night, now that I say it out loud, it could have waited.” She bit her lip bashfully, and played with the frayed hem of her shorts.

“Don’t be sorry! I’m finding spending my evenings with you is a pleasure. I’m glad you tore me away actually, ten more minutes and Bull would have forced me into some night time trial prep.”

“I saw you were in the office, don’t you have a home to go to Mr Colon?” she joked not caring if she sounded openly flirty. The wine had gone straight to her head from the adrenaline rush.

Benny laughed, relaxing now that the business talk was over and done with. “I do. A nice modern apartment about ten minutes from the office. I do get to go home and relax sometimes.” He looked thoughtful for a second. “It gets a bit quiet though.”

“Nothing at all to come home to?” Liv could have kicked herself for asking the question. She desperately wanted to hear the answer, but she didn’t at the same time. It was like her subconscious needed to know if she was wasting her time, or if she was going to be heart broken by this Latin demi god.

He chuckled lightly and fixed her with that intense gaze. “Nothing. Not even a pet.”

“That’s a little sad. I don’t know what I’d do without my puppy.” She handed him her phone, proudly showing off her pride and joy. “His name is Chico. He’s my fur baby.”

“He looks friendly.” Benny handed her back her phone “Who’s looking after him while you’re here?”

“My best friend. Eliza basically moved into my flat to make sure he won’t wreck it.”

Benny nodded and glanced at his watch “I should really be getting home.” He got up and made his way to the door. Liv followed him and paused while he opened the door chewing her bottom lip.

“Thanks for the drink Liv.” He was stood close enough that she could hear his lowered voice.

How does he still smell amazing after working out?

“No, thank you for coming. You really didn’t have to.”

“A beautiful girl tells me she needs me, wearing nothing but a towel? I’d have no brain if I said no.” He tucked a stray piece of hair back behind her ear and pulled her into a hug. She enjoyed the gesture, wrapping her arms around his neck, and breathing in the masculine, musky scent of his hair.

Benny pulled away far too early for her liking, leaving her feeling suddenly cold without his body heat.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.” He winked at her and started to walk down the corridor towards the elevator.

“Good night Benny!” she called after him.

“Good night Liv.”

****

“So why wasn’t I invited to this pyjama party?” Bull asked accusingly, looking at Benny and Olivia over the top of his glasses as they talked in his office the next morning.

“It was late and I didn’t want to disturb you …” Liv uncomfortably pushed an imaginary crease out of her skirt in agitation. Benny just rolled his eyes.

“Give it up Bull, you’re not invited to everything.” The lawyer pointed to the files Liv had placed on Bull’s desk. “What is important, is that Liv here, found an anomaly in the semen.”

“An anomaly?” Bull started looking through the paperwork.

“I’ve not been able to get an exact match yet, but there’s more than just Brandon’s semen on his jeans from that night.”

“He was with another man.”

Bull nodded, flicking through each sheet.

“My tests say it’s an older man. I’ve got to do a bit of DNA profile matching today before I can give you a precise who.”

“Good work. This might just be the ace we’re looking for.”

****

“So I missed a hell a day, clearly.” Liv said as she sat down next to Benny at the communal table.

Cable nodded emphatically. “Gun play and everything.”

“Pete Peters is in the hospital with a GSW. And Clyde is pushing for a second degree manslaughter deal at the DA’s office.” Benny said pouring water into Liv’s glass.

“He’s just sore because that brat Taylor Bensimon threw the ipad at his face.” Danny added as she and Chunk unloaded the group’s Chinese order out onto the table, separating it off for each person.

“Bensimon … where have I heard that name?” Liv pondered, tapping her nails on the table and furrowing her brow in thought.

“They’re everywhere in this case.” Benny said, accepting his order from Danny.

“The families are tightly linked. Like Taylor and Brandon were paired off as kids, without even a say.”

“Speak of the devil. “ Marissa said under her breath, but loud enough for the whole table to hear as Bull came through the door, leading Brandon over to their table.

“Have a seat Brandon.” The psychologist put pressure on his shoulders and he sat awkwardly next to Liberty. The kid’s eyes were red rimmed.

“Here you go momma.” Chunk handed Liv her lemon chicken and rice, sitting down next to her with his own food.

“Ugh Chunk, Have I told you lately that I love you?” Liv asked, opening the box and inhaling the sweet scent from inside.

“No, but you have now.”

“To business.” Bull said as he paced around the table. “Brandon here, is going to testify. We need to give him some advice. Go.”

“Speak up.” Marissa nodded at the young boy, trying to be as kind as she possibly could be.

“Answer directly.” Benny said, putting a dumpling in his mouth.

“Keep your hands still.”

“Don’t slouch.” Benny said through a full mouth.

“Only answer questions, not statements.”

“Don’t fill silences.”

“Don’t smoke on breaks.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, jeez Benny, I thought you were a gentleman?” Liv laughed, slapping Benny’s bicep. His eyes went wide and he swallowed quickly.

“I was hungry.” He shrugged and winked at her. Liv shook his head wondering how he could be charming, even after such a revolting move.

“What did I tell you Liv, like a rabid animal when he’s hungry.” Cable joked.

He pouted and offered her a dumpling from his box, which Liv gladly accepted, with a friendly nudge of the elbow.

Everyone around the table that knew Benny watched the interaction open mouthed.

Benjamin Colon never willingly shared food.

For those of you interested, this is Liv’s puppy Chico.

@reelovesbennycolon @lets-love-little-me @thesleepyproducer

#benny colon x reader #benny colon x oc #bennycolonxreader #benny colon #bull2016 #nbcbull #jason bull #chunk palmer #freddy rodriguez

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thehabilableheart · 6 years ago

Text

An open letter to my ex.

03|10|2019 // I genuinely don't think I've ever closed any doors or burned any bridges with anyone.. family, friends, or exes.. who have done me wrong. Tonight, I did, by choice, burn a very toxic bridge.. and I didn't even allow myself to stand and watch the flames burn out, or the wind carry away the ashes. I turned, held up my chin, and walked away. I've never allowed myself to kill relationships out of fear I may be losing something potentially important... But I learned that the only importance a burned or burning bridge holds, is a lesson. Allowing it to fester can cause so much angst… Thank you for being my lesson, sweetheart. I won't ever allow you or your toxic "love" into my life again. Not yours or anyone else’s. I will always think of what’s best for me and my end goal.

An open letter to my ex who isn’t just an ex, but the one I considered my best friend, too. Usually, I wouldn’t write out the things running through my head about you publicly. I’d send them directly to you. But what good does that do? None. Further, the point of these posts is for people to see me, raw and open. They want to see everything I’m going through. This time, this entry will be a little different than my norm in multiple ways. A more…. Snarky type text, if you will. A bit of a “fuck you” of sorts to a someone I thought would always be my someone. He’s never going to read it though. He doesn’t care enough.

See sweetheart, I love your bravery. No matter what situation you catch yourself in, you always maneuver swiftly and come out of it. Even the ones that could easily ruin you. I admire your strength to keep pushing. No matter what it is in your way. You have an extreme, dark, in depth, intellectual mind. I love the way your brain works. I’ve always been a little envious of your smarts. We both know I lack a bit in that region.. You fully took advantage of that. My lack of logic, some would say. Maybe a lack of common sense. It’s funny. You’re so determined to be someone.. But you’re too caught up in having multiple someones around you, that you’ve become multiple someones, too! You put in so much work everywhere you go, in all that you do, all without breaking face. Even if the majority of the work you’re doing is put into your acting. You’re really good at that. Acting, I mean. You’re so handsome. SO handsome. When you’re focused but also excited about the work you’ve put into new adult (I’m talking guns here!) toys, or those dumb new video games, you’re such a fun energy. OH. Let’s not forget your strong focus on telling stories straight, though. That one is SUPER important. Kind of admirable as well. You make everything you do in life seem so… easy. Just like I did, right? Made things easy? Or was that all 4 of us? (Are there more than 4 over the last 15 years? Hm.) Not much affects you. If it does, well.. we’ve talked about how great of an actor you are. You’re great at pretending.. at being something else. You’re usually day, but I preferred when you were night. Usually you’d get drunk and control fuck me (Can’t say I don’t miss that..Haha. Cuz I do). When was our last time? January 4th was the last night I remember. Then I got completely wasted a week later, almost broke your tv, and woke up without my pants on, with no recollection of how I got to your bed..

You have an authenticity problem.. you have “fraud” written all over your face. You really could just be honest. With me, and her, the second her, and the one between me and the second. Maybe then we all could have trusted you with more than just a decent (sometimes half ass) fuck. You were a good enough distraction. For a while. I’ll give you that. But theres always better. You could have been worth more than just being temporary medicine, though. Sadly, I’ve come to realize that’s really all you were. But you aren’t potent enough. I don’t crave you. I’m not having withdrawals the way I did from A (the one you’re scared I’ll choose over you! [at this point, he’s a MUCH better option]…) when he left me broken before an 8 month deployment. I don’t miss you. I don’t have the urge to wait 8 months for you to come back to me. I’m pretty sure tonight I made the possibility of that extremely non-existent, anyway, am I right? Ha! I wouldn’t come back to me after finding out everything you’re going to find out when you wake up today.

All of “us” was just a way to ease your tensions, your stresses from all the work you put into pretending you’re someone you’re not, right? It’s been a nice distraction I’m sure. Or maybe, it was your way of focusing on something other than the fact that you’re having to hide and clean your own dirty fucking laundry in plain site, right? So none of us will notice it? You abuse the things that distract from your pain. We’re YOUR medicine. YOU’RE the addicted one. Not us. All of us are capable of walking away. It’s not just us, either. Even your “friends”. Is that too harsh? A little bit painful? Do you even FEEL pain? Maybe you’re like me in the sense that you enjoy being hurt. You enjoy that overwhelming rush because at least you’re feeling something, right?… Silly idea, I think. You’re just extremely fucked in the head. You’ve made me feel fucked in the head too. I’m sure you have your own life experiences to blame. But you don’t get to fuck with other peoples lives because your life is a living nightmare.

I saw it in your eyes… when you told me we were done because you decided you wanted to be alone and get yourself together, yet now I’m sure you’re fucking every girl in town again (your instagram numbers have gone up again - I already checked out all the sluts)… I saw that you were happy I was leaving. I saw the relief. Even in that last hug getting me and my pup into my car (that you used for months because your second had yours), that was broken down on the street in front of your house for weeks, I saw the excitement. I saw that you were genuinely relieved to be free again. That you were free, truthfully for the first time. Because in 15 years, you’ve never been free. But that didn’t stop you from doing whatever you wanted to. Let’s face it - we’re both the same in the sense that we always have a back up, “so to speak”. (You love that phrase - it still fucking annoys me) We don’t like to be alone. If we aren’t taken by someone, if we aren’t in a solid relationship… we’re sleeping with someone to fill that void.. Not even a void. We both just need that distraction. I’m sure too, that the moment I left.. the moment I drove down that drive…smiles crossed all three of your single, drunk, pathetic faces, “the single brothers are back!” was shouted, and the shots kept pouring, right? The music got loud again. The feeling of not having a single care in the world returned. Did the cocaine too? Or are we not back there yet? Maybe we’ll wait for summer! Everyone close to us knows how much you enjoy a bit of snow on a bright, sunny day.

You’re a father, you know? To a little girl. One day she’ll be a woman. One day your daughter is going to be her mother. Your second. The middle between the second and me. And me. Have you thought of that? Have you taken a good long look at yourself and evaluated the way you’ve treated any of us? Have you asked “would I be happy if my daughter was with someone like me? A BOY?” Any good parent would say no. Any involved, loving parent would say “FUCK no. Not now, not ever.” But you’re not an involved parent. You’re hardly a loving parent. Visiting twice a year, literally saying you don’t even want to go back home, but you do for her, then you sleep in while she plays with the iPad.. rarely calling her, and when you do, only briefly talking and barely listening to what she has to say.. You can’t deny it. I’ve been in the room with you while you played with your guns and told her you were going to bed around 9:30, just to hang up and turn around to play video games until 2AM. But you’re so full of the lie that is you pretending you’re stronger than you are. You’re so full of the lie that is you pretending you’ve got yourself all pieced together. Pretending you have a plan. Pretending you’re the most amazing human being, man, and father out there. But really. Take a look at yourself. Sit down, evaluate, then ask yourself, “Am I the person I want my daughter to marry?” If you can honestly look at yourself and say yes, I hope she’s smarter than you.

You know that’s why I left them, right? The last two that you listened to and watched me cry over because, you know, you were my best friend? My only “REAL” friend. My 3AM phone calls. The only one who would pick up. The only one who would listen when I didn’t know what to do. And for what? Why’d you do that to me? So you could play with me like a pawn on a game board?! PSH. Fuck you. But anyway, I’m sorry, I’ve gotten a little bit selfishly side tracked. That’s all besides the point of this paragraph. Let me get back to it. The two previous boys I was with. You know who I’m talking about! The one you’re scared I’ll run back to, instead of you, when he’s free again, and the one you convinced me was right to leave? Leaving them was a choice I knew was best to make because I knew I never wanted my daughter to watch me be miserable in my relationships, and I didn’t want her to think it was alright to end up with boys like them. And I most definitely don’t ever want my son raised by a BOY like ALL THREE of you. Your daughter, she deserves a man. He may not be biological. But she has a man in her life. A genuinely good father figure. How sad it isn’t you. Then again, what do I know? My children’s step mother has been a better mother than me here the last two years. At least I’m thankful for her. I let her know that too. I thank her for loving my children as if they are her own. I thank her for being patient, kind, and respectful. I give her credit where it’s due. But again, I’m getting side tracked.

If I remember correctly, she was an accident, right? You didn’t even know for sure if she was yours or not? OH OH! OH! And please, don’t worry yourself at all! You know how social I am. I “don’t know a stranger”. Her mother? I adore her. Such a sweet, respectful, kind, strong, smart fucking woman. (Hopefully the littles come out like her!) But I was under the impression that she was so horrible, sweetheart. But it’s a fucking trend. Her, your second, and the girl between me and #2. All “terrible” women. So what does that say about me? What is your “the truth about my last”? I’ve already spoken to 2 of the 3. It’s easy for all of us to sort out what’s real and what’s fake. I’ll be sure your first gets word on her place in your mind. Or at least her place in the words that come out of your mouth behind her back, since everyone knows you don’t say what you think 1, and 2, you don’t ever tell the truth. I’m finally seeing why men don’t want us to meet their exes. They don’t want us to find out all the fucked up shit they do.

It’s sad that you’re so insecure with the person you are (we know, you’ll never admit it) that you have to make everyone around you look awful. Then when people meet (talk to) them… they’re the exact opposite of everything you’ve said.. Everything you say they’ve done.. YOU DONE DID IT. Not them. You’re making yourself look so bad, sweetheart. Your daughters step-father - the one you’ve undeservingly spoken so low about, while being a low piece of shit your damn self - is loving and raising YOUR child. He’s being a father. Sending child support, and once or twice a month calls, isn’t being a father. I obviously don’t know the guy personally, but I’d recommend thanking him for standing in. I assume very strongly, since your daughter is happy, and according to you - misses her mom, step-dad and sister while she’s with you and says she wants to go back.. I’d say he’s doing great job showing her what a man is supposed to be… all while you’re slummin’ it in your frat fuck house, drinking, and fucking your way into some made up world of what you think reality fucking is.

I pray our girls, and their half sisters, grow to know the difference between a boy and a man. I hope yours shows you a soft heart and gives you the benefit of the doubt, and encourages you to continue to grow, but takes caution not to get too close, or trusting of you. I hope all of our girls know better than to fully open up to a boy.. so they don’t get treated like a disposable item and end up hurt. Our girls are smart, though. Very smart for their current ages. I know when they look at you or a boy just like you, 13 years from now when they’re old enough to start dating…. They’ll lose hope in you just like the 4 of us women (4 that I know of, anyway) have. I truly pray that the constant men in their lives show them what a real man looks like, and teach them to avoid scum… like you, and A & J. Remember how you hated being categorized with people like that in my life? Don’t act like them, you won’t get compared to them.

I genuinely don't think I've ever closed any doors or burned any bridges with anyone.. family, friends, or exes.. who have done me wrong. Tonight, I did, by choice, burn a very toxic bridge.. and I didn't even allow myself to stand and watch the flames burn out, or the wind carry away the ashes. I turned, held up my chin, and walked away. No looking back. No pain. No tears. I burned our bridge for a reason. This is a fresh, new beginning for me. Thank you for telling me I needed to move home. Best idea you’ve ever had. Best thing I’ve ever followed through with.

Please don’t ever interrupt my life again.

I don’t believe in rebuilding my past anymore. Our foundation is complete garbage now. I’m building my own foundation for ME and MY kids. I hope one day you learn to move forward, and not look back. I hope you stop using your past as an excuse for your actions and for your failures. I whole heartedly, truly hope that one day, you grow up to be a really great, happy man. I hope you have no regrets and begin to progress in everything you do. Good luck, Buddha. I’m sure you’ll need all the luck anyone can give you. You got what you wanted, what you asked for. You’re all alone now.

Oh, and you’re welcome. I helped you weed out the trash.

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chriska-partners-4-life · 7 years ago

Text

Not All Birthdays Are Happy

Here’s some sadness that entered into my brain Sunday morning, and now you all get to suffer with me! I’m looking forward to all the hate you guys are going to give me. Next thing I post I promise wont be so depressing! Yeah, It’s probably what you think it is, and yes it takes place after... ya know.

It was early Friday afternoon when Harrison heard his phone ring for what seemed like the hundredth time already today. Texts and calls from family, friends, and former co-stars had been pouring in for his birthday. Liam had told him happy birthday when he woke up, Georgia shot him a text that said HBD, Ben and Willard had both called him earlier that morning, and Malcolm sent a text telling him Happy Birthday.

When he looked down to see who the caller was, he couldn’t help but grin.

“Hey kiddo,” he answered.

“Funny you should use that word,” the person on the other end laughed.

“Oh god, Billie what did you do?” Harrison chuckled and shook his head.

“Well you know that picture, the one we took with Mark at celebration last year.” she asked, knowing he would know.

“Yeah,” Harrison’s voice became a bit weary.

“Well I may have put it on instagram again with the caption ‘Happy birthday 2 my #semispacedaddy.” Billie was laughing as she said the last part.

“Billie Catherine,” Harrison over dramatically sighed, “what am I going to do with you, young lady?”

“Oh c’mon, it’s funny and you know it.” she told him. “Plus mom would’ve gotten a kick out of it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he conceded, “she would have thought it was hilarious.” There was a moment of quite.

“Any plans for your birthday, sweetheart?” Harrison asked.

“Yeah, having a party tomorrow for my friends, but as for the actual day, not much since it’s a weekday.”

“That sounds like fun, I hope you have a good time.”

“Thanks Harrison.” Billie told him, and there was so much more he wanted to say to her, but felt like now wasn’t the right time.

“Well, I will let you go, I know it’s the start of the weekend and I bet you have all kinds of plans, but don’t be afraid to come over. You know where I live and you are always welcome.”

“I may take you up on that offer soon.” Billie told him. “I love you, Harrison.”

“I love you too, kiddo. Bye.”

As he hung up the phone, he thought about Carrie and her little girl that had grown up right before his eyes.

The following Tuesday, Harrison was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the news on his iPad when his phone rang. Unlike when he saw this name on Friday, his heart was filled with mild sadness.

“Hey kiddo,” he answered, once again.

“Hey Harrison, you know how you said to come over whenever,” Billie asked, her voice straining, he could hear the tears she was struggling to keep back.

“Of course, sweetie.” he said. “I’m hear all day if you need to come over.”

“Well, I’m outside your front door,” she told him, voice breaking.

“Hang tight, I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone, and walked quickly to the door.

As he opened the door, his heart broke at Billie on the verge of losing it. He took no time in pulling her into a hug and comforting her. He closed the door behind her, and the two of them stood in the foyer. His own heart ached as he realized she was about the same height at her mother, and fit in the same spot Carrie used to.

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Harrison repeated several times as she cried into his shirt. He rubbed her back and whispered to her that everything would be okay, and that he was there for her.

After about 5 minutes, she pulled back slightly. “Rough morning?” he asked. Billie nodded, wiping her cheeks. “Thinking about your mom and grandma?” he said, not so much a question, but statement. When she nodded again, he pulled her back in.

“Hey, they are so proud of everything you have accomplished, and so am I.” he told her. “You are a smart, funny, successful, young woman with a good head on her shoulders.” he reassured her. The two of them walked towards the kitchen and sat on a could of stools at the bar. After they were settle, Harrison looked at her momentarily, trying to find something to say.

“Have I ever told you about how I tried to find ways to put your mom into labor the day before and of my birthday?” Harrison asked, trying to change the subject and make the young woman smile.

“I think I heard that story once or twice, but I don’t remember it very well.” she told him.

“Well, when it was nearing my birthday, and you still hadn’t arrived, I had made a joke to Carrie that you were just waiting to be born on the best day.” This made Billie smile momentarily. “She was feeling miserable being so pregnant, and I guess my joke started to sound better and better. So she came up to me and said, give it your all hotshot. So, I asked Melissa some ways to induce labor, and after we ruled out some of the one that just were not happening,” Harrison shot her a look telling her all she needed to know, “we decided on a few. We fed her pineapple and spicy food, but that just caused heartburn, and stomach acid issues. Castor oil, which looked so unpleasant and I felt bad after that one, because the smell was awful enough. We waited and waited all day the day before, and nothing.” Harrison was now deeply lost in thought, and Billie watched as he told the story, not really realizing she was there.

“The day of my 50th birthday, we had a bash at a restaurant, and your mom rode with us. If I remember correctly, your dad was working because it was a weekday, so it was me, you mother, Melissa and the kids. I took one car with your mother and Melissa took the kids in the other. On the way, I found just about every bump and old cobblestone street I could find on the way to the restaurant.” Harrison laughed at the memory, eyes tearing up a bit. “I think I even resorting to trying to scare you out of her. You were stubborn, just like her though, and weren’t gonna come out before you were good and ready.” Harrison came back to the present and laid a hand on Billie’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze.

“It was finally 4 days later and you entered the world. You were a beautiful baby, and I came to visit you as soon as I could. You were and always will be her pride and joy, baby girl.” Billie teared up once again at the nickname he saved for only special moments. “You know I would bring her back if I could. I would give anything, and I mean anything, for her to be here. It wasn’t her time, and I’m so sorry you are having to go through this.” He pulled her into another hug. “She is so proud of you, and I am too. You know the two of them are bragging about you wherever they are. Debbie is trying to take all the credit, and Carrie is just shaking her head and interjecting where she is wrong.”

“Hey, I know you had a birthday party over the weekend, but do you have any plans for today?” Harrison asked.

“No, nothing really, was just going to sit at the house, probably see Austen.” Billie informed him.

“Well, if your boyfriend doesn’t mind you spending time with this old man, maybe we could hang out for the day?”

Harrison watched as her face lit up for the first time since she knocked on the door. “Yeah, I would really enjoy that, we don’t get to see each other enough anymore.” She paused for a moment. “Are you sure that’s what you really want to do? I’m sure you’re busy, or could be doing better things.”

“Well like you just said, we don’t get to see much of each other since you’ve grown up on me. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “God, I can’t believe you’re 26 years old. God, I’m really getting old here.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Hey! You aren’t supposed to agree!” Harrison playfully pouts.

“Don’t worry, I’l make sure you won’t get put into a home.” Billie winked at him.

“Did I mention you’re my favorite?” Harrison laughed.

Billie laughed at the statement. “But I’m not even you’re kid.”

“You are in every way that counts, baby girl. Every way that counts.”

#Carrison #Carrison RPF #sad

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spidermando · 7 years ago

Text

Seven Minutes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warnings: feels, swearing, major character death

A/N:So this is inspired by this wattpad book. Make sure you give it a read too (-:

Masterlist

I rubbed my cheek on my jacket, attempting to catch my tears as they trailed down my face.

“Don’t you dare touch her.” Looking up, I caught sight of Bucky. He, too, was tied to a chair, violently pulling at the restraints as he sneered at the strange man. “I’ll kill you.”

The man grinned widely at him, slowly turning and approaching me. “Oh. No no no no.” He leaned in front of me, placing his face directly next to my own. Our eyes met, mine red and puffy as I tried my best to hold back my tears, his full of joy and glee. There was something almost inhuman in there, something... completely mad. “I promise I won’t lay a hand on you, darling.”

“You better not.” Bucky sneered, still tugging on the rope trapping him on the chair.

“I don’t have to lay a hand on you....” He then pulled back, his hand coming down to rest on the waistband of his jeans. “...to kill you.”

His hand reappeared, this time grasping a gun. It was aimed directly at my chest, which continued to rise and fall rapidly.

“STOP.” Bucky yelled from across the room, desperate to protect me. “DON’T HURT HER.”

“It’s okay, Bucky.” Another tear rolled down my cheek. “It’s okay.”

BANG!

It would all be okay.

Your brain still functions for seven minutes after you die. No one really knows what happens in that seven minutes, apart from the dead, but there are rumours.

Some say that you have an out of body experience, that your spirit follows your figure to see what happens in the following minutes. Others say that it’s time to say good bye to your family and friends. However, the most heard one is that your life flashes before your eyes and then you get the chance to say goodbye.

I’d never really given much thought to those final 420 seconds, but as I lied in complete darkness, my mind wondered.

First Minute

Suddenly the darkness disappeared, replaced by a setting I knew all too well. The 1942 streets of Brooklyn. There was a figure in the distance, walking towards me. Her y/c hair was pinned back, as a dull brown hat sheltered her from the sun. My mouth hung open as she approached and I instantly recognised her. It was me from the past.

She looked up at the sound of skin connecting with skin. Furrowing her eyebrows as she looked down a well-lit alley, she had decided to check it out. I followed behind her, knowing what was about to happen.

“I could do this all day.”

She picked up the pace at the words, rounding the corner and coming face to face with the fight. A man hit another, much smaller and weaker looking, bloke. Although he wasn’t buff, his hits went straight through the blonde man’s defence. Still, the tiny man held his skinny arms up, knowing they would do nothing to protect him. He walked forward and put his fist out, only to be blocked and punched in the face. His body smashed to the ground, clashing with a metal trash can on the way.

Even though it was a memory, I still flinched at the scene.

“Hey, why don’t you go pick on someone your own size?” I sat in awe of my past self, living in a society where women were oppressed but she was still unafraid to speak up.

Past me pushed by the man, kneeling next to the now unconcise smaller male.

“Pretty girls like you should shut your mouths and f-“

He was cut off as yet again, as another man grasped his shoulder. “Hey, don’t speak to her like that.”

Ignoring the scene, past me continued to nurse the man, wiping away the blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

A few seconds later, the man she had yet to see walked over. By now she had the blonde-haired man sitting up, helping him get back on his feet.

“Thank you,” turning to the voice, she froze on the spot.

He was truly beautiful, a work of art, a blessing from god. Past me sat in awe of him, eyes trailing over him, studying his hair, his eyes, his cheekbones and his jawline. She quickly spotted the green he sported and couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He was a soldier, he was going to war and he’d probably never come home.

“I-Uh.”

He smirked as she stumbled over her words, nodding for her to continue.

Taking a second to gather herself, she powered on. “It’s okay, the guy was a complete twat.”

His smirked widened. “Please, let us take you out to thank you.”

“Sure,” she smiled as she took his offer. “Maybe I should introduce myself first, though.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” the brown-haired soldier said, this time smiling instead of smirking.

“I’m Y/N.” Lips tilted up, she put her hand out for him to shake.

He took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake. “That’s my friend Steve, and I’m James. But you can call me Bucky.”

Second Minute

The scene dropped away from me, my heart aching as I remembered the first time I laid eyes on Bucky. Before I had time to think through the memory, another scene took its place.

This time I was standing on a deck, facing a younger Bucky and I. Past me looked across the body of water, amazed by the bright lights dancing on the river. Bucky stood beside her, however he wasn’t looking at the mass of H2O. Instead his jaw was slack, his eyes filled with awe as he stared at past me.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” The words came from her mouth, referring to the scene before her.

“More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen before.” His voice was softer than I remebered, filled with sincerity and love. Even now, it made a warm feeling pool in my stomach. How had he always had sucha big effect on me?

She turned to face him, smiling brightly as she took his hands in hers. They stood like that for a few moments, hand in hand as they looked at each other in complete awe. Slowly and overtime, they both leaned in.

Eventually, they were so close that their breath mixed.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Bucky asked gently, squeezing her hands softly.

“Y-Yes.”

With that one word, Bucky moved forward and connected their lips. It was a short, sweet, chaste kiss. But to the both of them, it meant the world.

Third Minute

I merely blinked my eyes, and then the scene was gone. I was sitting in darkness once again, when an image appeared to my right. Heading towards it, it was merely seconds before I stepped inside the memory.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

Past me and Bucky stood at the dock now, and I instantly knew the memory. How could I not?

“Y/n?” Her head hung low, avoiding his gaze. When she didn’t respond, he gently cupped her chin and lifted her eyes to his. His breath caught as he saw the tear trailing down her cheek.

“I-I don’t want you to leave.” Her statement was breathy, filled with sorrow and pain.

He too, looked like he was in pain. “I don’t want to leave either.”

More tears fell from her eyes, sliding down her cheek.

“Then just stay here, with me.”

Bucky gave her a sad smile, using his thumb to wipe away the tears. “You know I can’t do that.”

She nodded in response, knowing that the war was waiting and that they needed him.

He brought his spare hand to her waist, bringing her closer and kissing her gently before pulling away. “I love you.”

Her breath caught at his words, words he’d never said to her before.

“I love you too.”

He smiled widely, giddy that they had mutual feelings. “Take care of Steve, okay?”

“Always.”

The time came that he had to leave, giving her one final hug, he turned around to leave.

“Bucky?” She raised her voice slightly, making sure he could hear.

He turned back to her. “Yeas, my love?”

“Come home?” Her voice was small now.

“Always.”

Fourth minute

My heart swelled at the scene. Even though it was sad, it was also a moment of joy. The moment we both said we loved each other. The moment that the relationship felt secure.

The scene slipped away once again, instantly replaced by another.

I saw the younger me sitting on her bed, reading the newspaper from that day. My heart dropped as I saw the date, knowing exactly what this memory was.

There was a knock at the door as she flipped the page and welcomed them in. Steve slid into the room, shoulder drooping and his eyes surrounded by bags with his mouth set in a deep frown. She read the end of the article, clearly before looking up at her upset friend. Her eyebrows furrowed for a second, before her face dropped too.

“No.”

“I’m sorry y/n, I tr-“ She cut Steve off, her voice filled with denial and pain.

“No, no. you’re lying.”

Steve slowly approached the bed, “I wish I was…”

“This can’t be real, it has to be fake.” Tears were already falling down her face, jumping from her bed, she couldn’t help but fall to her knees, slowly collapsing into herself.

“It’s not, Buck-“

“He can’t be d-dead.” She choked on the word, struggling to get it out.

“I’m sorry.”

A gut-wrenching sob escaped her throat, so loud and so filled with pain I had to block my ears.

Fifth minute

I didn’t notice as the scene disappeared, too busy leaning over and trying to ignore the hurt I felt. It took a while for me to regain my breath, pushing the heart break deep beneath. It happened so long ago, but the wound felt fresh. It would always feel fresh.

When I did open my eyes, I instantly noticed the scene shift. We were no longer in the 20th century, but the 21st.

Looking around, my eyes landed on the past me. She wasn’t so young anymore, more like me now then me during the war.

She was sitting on the couch, tapping away on an iPad supplied to her by Tony. The elevator door opened, but she was so absorbed in the game that she paid no attention.

A few people entered the shared space, one sucking a breath in at the sight.

“Y-/n?”

Her head snapped up, as she instantly recognised the voice. How could she ever forget it when it so easily plagued her dreams? “Bucky?”

Everything happened so quickly, one second they were on the other side of the room and the next they were intertwined, their lips on each others as they pulled the other closer. Steve coughed awkwardly, before disappearing into a doorway.

“You came back.” Sure, it was an odd thing to say, but neither had seen the other in decades.

“For you,” he tugged her even closer. “Always.”

Sixth minute

A large smile planted on my face as the memory faded away, a completely different mood then the one before it.

The next memory slowly appeared, taking its time.

When it finally appeared, I saw the me from only a few months ago. A smile lingered on her face, as she looked across the table at her lover, Bucky. Their hands were intertwined on the surface, pizza sticks sitting in the middle.

“I told Nat it wasn’t a good idea, but she seemed to think it was.” She shrugged, as Bucky laughed from across the table. She continued to tell the story, as I walked over to the table. I wanted to see this moment up close.

“Are you alright Buck?” Her voice was softer than before, as she squeezed his hands. “You’ve been acting strange.”

He looked back up at her, squeezing her hand with his flesh one. “Sorry, doll. I’m fine, just a bit nervous.”

“What are you nervous about?” She responded, truly concerned.

“This.” He then stood up, stepping next his chair and pushing it in. Taking a deep breath, he then got to one knee.

“On my god.” She murmured to herself, so low that he didn’t even hear.

“Y/n l/n, wow. Where do I even start?” He chuckled gently, so did she. “We’ve been together since the 1940’s and look where we are now. 2018.” She smiled, encouraging him to continue. “I’ve been in love you from the second I saw you and just knew that one day I wanted to marry you.” He took another deep breath. “So, I’ll keep it nice and simple. Will you marry me?”

She had tears in the corners of her eyes, causing her to blink in an attempt to keep them at bay. It didn’t work.

“Yes of course I will.”

She then jumped out of her seat, throwing herself into his arms. They hadn’t noticed, but a crowd had gathered around. They clapped with cheer, happy for the ‘young’ couple.

“Always?” He whispered into her ear, wrapping his arms around her.

“Always.”

Seventh minute

The scene dropped away, just alike the others. And what appeared was something I never thought I’d see.

Past, well more like me a few minutes ago, me sat tied to a chair. Bucky sat across from me, a look of pure terror on his face.

“I don’t have to lay a hand on you.“

I walked across the room to Bucky, standing in front of him with open arms. Wrapping him in a hug, and although he couldn’t feel it, I think it might’ve put him at ease.

“To kill you.”

“Bucky, I love you. Alw-“

BANG!

Seven minutes, it’s a lot of time. But it’s not enough.

You only have seven minutes to say goodbye and mine are up. But I couldn’t find it in me to be upset.

I’ve lived a good, long life, with Bucky by my side. And there’s nothing more I could ever ask for.

Always.

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dailykhaleej · 5 years ago

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Why Worry: ‘How to tackle constant fights with my husband and kids cooped up in a small house due to COVID-19’

Photo for illustrative purposes only. “We have two kids, who need to be taught at home. Trying to keep up with social distancing, now we don’t have any domestic help coming in either. With all the work – office, school, meal management – I’m ending up wanting to pull my hair out,” says a reader. Image Credit: Pixabay

This is a difficult question to ask, but while I love my family they are driving me crazy right now. When the new coronavirus news came, we – my husband and I – were asked to work from home. We live in a two-bedroom house in the UAE. We have two kids, who need to be taught at home. Trying to keep up with social distancing, now we don’t have any domestic help coming in either. With all the work – office, school, meal management – I’m ending up wanting to pull my hair out. It’s also causing my husband and me to fight and bringing out the worst in us. What can I do to calm the situation?

A reader who wishes to stay anonymous asks

Question answered by Sneha John, Child & Adult Psychologist, LifeWorks Holistic Counselling Centre, Dubai

Sneha John

With the pandemic Covid-19 outbreak bringing a profound shift to economies, businesses, education, healthcare and lifestyles, people have been compelled to adopt a new way of life. The warning from healthcare providers worldwide is simply this, ‘please help us by staying home.’ This general rule of thumb has created unwarranted opportunities for families, couples, friends and colleagues to stay at home. To bond or not to bond, that is the question. Being quarantined at home can produce a plethora of emotions including irritation, frustration, anger and feeling overwhelmed. Here are a few tips to help you conquer the coronavirus blues.

For families with children

During times such as these, when life seems to have slowed down, our minds may retort towards unhelpful thinking styles. For example, the news sends us alerts of more closures and restrictions which can create a state of despondency and complacency. If we choose to adopt a fixed mindset, the following vocabulary will be familiar, ‘things will not get better’, ‘this is my life’, ‘I can never adjust to staying at home with my family’, ‘staying at home will be miserable’, ‘my family/partner/room-mates will never understand the importance of my work.’

Research shows that a fixed mindset is linked to dissatisfaction, disappointment, sadness, avoidance, procrastination, hasty decisions, impulsivity and loss of motivation for set goals.

However, cultivating a growth mindset would build resilience, increase satisfaction, productivity, self-efficacy and reduction of stress levels. Be intentional in using this time to build your growth mindset by acknowledging the challenge and looking for opportunities to improve or make things better within set parameters. For example, reframing the fixed mindset thought ‘I can never adjust to staying at home with my family’ into a growth mindset ‘staying at home is new for me but I can try working around it.’

Get creative and find new ways of adapting to your current environment. Keep a daily gratitude log and journal in new changes you are incorporating to your current lifestyle. Challenge your fears with the evidence at hand. As your mind wreaks havoc hearing of the rapid spread of the disease, reflect on the innumerable efforts of our nation in keeping it under control so that we can carry own with our daily lives.

Things are going to look a little different

Transitions take time to adjust to and this should be kept in mind. Parents should give themselves and their children the time and space to get adjusted to the change. As the whole family is at home, parents could take turns in shifts where one parents takes care of breakfast and children’s studies while the other takes care of lunch. It’s even better when the children are also involved with setting the table, washing dishes or clearing the table. Although they may not agree to doing this when given as a chore, parents present this as a game, for example: getting children to choose a family breakfast cuisine where one child sets the table where the other helps with prep.

Establish a structure to the day

Even with schools being shut and offices endorsing the work from home policy, maintaining a daily structure can ease stress for both parents and children alike. This structure can be similar to your normal school routine with a scheduled time for going to bed and waking up. With schools being closed, children may tend to mentally switch off from following a school routine and include more time for leisure. However, to ensure that children settle in to this change, there should be specific times allocated for each activity such as wake up, breakfast, study, lunch, TV or iPad time, dinner and sleep.

This also includes getting changed from your PJ’s to comfortable casual clothes as you start the day. Research has found that a lack of structure within the daily affairs can lead to bickering, arguments and feuds between family members. Structure is an important part of maintaining harmony within the family. Parents should maintain regular working hours, for example, wrapping up by 6pm, so that children can be positively engaged.

Creating boundaries

As families work together to create a daily routine, each family member can give their inputs. For example, a certain portion of time can be allocated for a family breakfast followed by individual study or work, lunch which could be the same or separate times and culminated by a family dinner/bonding time. In order to ensure that each activity flows smoothly, there could be a set of family rules which may be set in addition to existing ones.

For younger children, parents may even put up a ‘stop sign’ on their door while they work. Family rules include not making noise as mum and dad work, not fighting with your brother or sister while studying, waiting till lunch time to communicate something urgent, doing my studies and not watching movies during study time etc. These rules may need to be communicated to each child one-on-one according to their age. To get children on board, explain to them simply about the ‘why’ behind this new routine. For example, you may say “we are not going to office and school but mummy and daddy need to work and you need to study. Let’s do our work and studies so we can do something fun in the evening.”

Be intentional in having ‘me’ time

This may a rarity during regular school/work days and even more challenging to achieve when the entire family is together. However, as the emphasis on health continues, it is important that you take care of your health if you hope to take care of anyone. The more demanding of your time your family is, you need to fit in rest and exercise. Perhaps you and your family can seek out ways to exercise at home together.

Listen if you expect to be heard

Lack of communication is the loudest concern in most families. The answer to “Why won’t they listen to me?” may be simply “You’re not listening to them.” Take the time to hear out your children or spouse as they express something. If you may not be in the mood for this, simply tell them, ‘mummy or daddy needs some quiet time so I can listen to you properly. I will be back.’ We are the best judges of how much we can handle, don’t fill too much on your plate.

For couples

Communicate

While both partners are working from home, it calls for compromise and understanding. In cases when you may be sharing a work space, ensure that you both communicate your needs. For example, as part of your jobs, if both you and your partner have regular calls to make, come up a simple rule that you each attend to calls fairly quietly using headphones. Avoid using passive-aggression to hint that you are not happy when your partner has an hour-long Skype conference call and you want to concentrate on your emails. Turns out a simple “Could you put on headphones?” is an effective way to get someone to, you know, put on headphones.

Designate private areas

Get creative when you do not have enough rooms for privacy while working. In the case of a studio flat with no balcony, set up makeshift partition to separate your work space during office hours. This may look quite similar to your actual office set-up and provides you a sense of privacy.

Come up with a schedule together

Designate a time that you and your partner stop working for the day and dedicate quality time with each other. As you are both at home, make the time to have lunch together, take small breaks and check on each other. This helps maintain a work-life balance and also maintain camaraderie between you.

Avoid multi-tasking

Some of us pride in our ability to multi-task. The brain does not have the capacity to multi-task and tires easily when people engage in several tasks at once. Multi-tasking may regularly occur in an office setting and it may be even more common while working from home. For example, your partner asks you to run a quick errand while you are working. You may initially refuse due the existing workload. However, you may give in after some persuasion. In order to overcome this successfully, write down the task needing to be done, complete the one at hand and then proceed. Although telling your partner to wait may not be initially easy, upon practice you would be able to dedicate your time towards tasks one at a time without getting overwhelmed.

Make a date of it

Work-from-home days give rise to opportunities where you can brighten each other’s day. Sweet little gestures throughout the day give our “office” morale a big boost. A gentle check-in, a word of encouragement, casual jokes, bringing each other coffee and snacks can make a difference to a usual work-day.

For roommates

Establish ground rules

Based on your work schedule and the nature of your work, think about the support you may need from your roommates and communicate the same. If your job involves several calls throughout the day, establish ground rules on when these calls can be made during the day, which space you may use and how you could minimize disturbance for your roommates.

Similarly agree upon a set time you will be using the kitchen for meal prep to avoid confusion and clashing of schedules.

The chore schedule may also look different as all your room-mates work from home. Set a roster for chores and grocery shopping.

Share your calendar for the day (or week)

While working from home with roommates, get them on board with schedule and share your work calendar. For example: if one of you needs to be up and working early, let the other person know so they receive a heads up. Skipping this step and going about your business as usual is likely to lead to the kind of simmering frustration. Simply screenshotting your calendars and texting them to each other every morning is an easy way to avoid overbooking the “conference room” (your kitchen table). Knowing that they—or you—have an afternoon packed with calls might help put an end to any urges to barge in for spontaneous chats.

Talk to your housemates about your work

Tell your roommates about your daily routines and what you’re working on is likely to make them more understanding. Similarly, when work is slow, be very clear that quiet time does not mean leisure time. Talking about your work regularly also enforces the idea that you are working from home and not free to sort out everyone else’s admin or do their share of chores.

Create a house diary and calendar

A calendar pinned to the wall in a communal space for everyone to keep track of when others are busy or have days off can avoid misunderstandings, especially if your job duties entail taking frequent office calls.

Use noise-cancelling headphones when you need to concentrate

A good pair of noise-cancelling headphones can help you concentrate in a busy and hectic household.

People living with parents

How much I can contribute?

If you are living with parents or relatives, make sure the terms are clear agree ground rules on how much you’re expected to contribute to the house financially and practically, such as rent, housework or having dinner with the family. Do your share of the household responsibilities and ensure that you maintain a balance between your work and family time

An hour without screens

Prioritize time for yourself as part of your daily routine so that you are able to contribute effectively to the family. This could be an hour doing something you love without electronic gadgets, reflecting on the day and preparing for the next one. As much of our lives revolve around electronic devices, we may feel fatigued and exhausted as the day draws to a close. While working, invest in blue-light blocking glasses to reduce strain on your eyes.

Prioritise family time as part of the schedule

Prioritise time with your family even if you may not prefer this as an option. Take moments out of your work schedule to have meals with your family, have a quick conversation and help with small chores if your work schedule permits. Try wrapping up work at a certain time and spend quality time with your family.

Separate work from personal affairs

Although the family setting may demand more time and attention, be intentional in how much time and resources you can actually invest. Treat your work from home schedule like an actual work-day with few adjustments. If you are required to have separate timings from the household, let this be communicated clearly. Have a mental map of the approximate schedule for the week and how you can contribute to daily affairs. If your family demands that more time is spent on errands which is difficult to accommodate, come up with a compromise. If the errand is urgent, communicate this to your line-manager to avoid confusion. However, if it can wait, let your family know that you will help out after your work-day finishes.

Patience works wonders

Give yourself and your family the time to get used to your new schedule. If family members may not understand the new work from home arrangement, gently remind them and separate work from home-affairs. Ensure that you have your own private work-space and have conversations with family members during your break.

If you have questions that you would like answered by a mental health professional in the UAE, please write in to [email protected]. Also, please let us know if you’d rather stay anonymous.

Disclaimer: This blog is a conversation and is not an alternative for treatment. The recommendations and suggestions offered by our panel of doctors are their own and Gulf News will not take any responsibility for the advice they provide.

The post Why Worry: ‘How to tackle constant fights with my husband and kids cooped up in a small house due to COVID-19’ appeared first on Daily Khaleej.

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forevercaroline · 7 years ago

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Filming a wedding

I was telling @caritobear about this idea and we went back and forth talking about a kolvina wedding. Xxx Caroline Forbes walks into her office of the Salvatore boarding school and sitting in front of her desk is a man she knows all to well. " The answer is still no it won't change now that your here in person." The man turns around to face her and its Klaus Mikaelson " Love please." " Klaus I'm not doing this I don't even know Kol or his bride. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that someone wants to marry your brother and that said brother is not Elijah. Who as you said in your letter has been compelled to forget all about you and your family and basically his entire existence. So even if I would agree which I'm not saying I am but if I would I have to go to your brothers wedding who I don't really know film the wedding so your sister who doesn't really like me, your other brother who doesn't know anything at the moment and you who is in love with me can see the wedding of their brother am I missing anything? Oh yeah I would also be meeting your older sister and be the third wheel to your daughter and her boyfriend who I'm sure she would like to bring to her uncle's wedding also if you or any of your siblings were in the same room as each other or Hope the dark magic inside you would piece back together and never separate." Klaus smiles at the frustrated blonde and comes around the desk and kneels in front of her and holds her hands. " Caroline you know I love you and I would do anything for you and I know you have feelings for me too, if you didn't you would of never kissed me that day in the woods or responded to my letters over the years. So I am asking you as your last love if you will please go to my brothers wedding and film it for my siblings and I so we can be at the wedding too." Caroline looks down at the pleading hybrid in front of her. " Your right I do have feeling for you. I don't love you as much as you love me, I'm between I love you and I really like you. I'll go but only because I know one day I will accept your invitations to travel around the world and become a Mikaelson meaning Kol will be part of my family." Klaus leans up and kisses her " Thank you now back to Hope has a boyfriend, who is he?" "Klaus I'm not telling you, I'm not letting you kill any of my students." " Your doing something for me the least I can do is take a student off your hands." Caroline smiles down at him and caress his face. " I'm still not telling you his name." Xxx " Congratulations I'm am surprised your the first one getting married. If someone would of asked me who would be the first Mikaelson to get married I would of said Rebekah then Klaus to me because let's face it if Klaus had his way we would be married." Kol turns around from looking at himself in the mirror at the sound of a familiar voice he hasn't heard in a while. " Caroline Forbes always a pleasure but you do know my brother is not here because of the hollow." Caroline coming further into the tent to sit on the couch " Who do you think sent me. I have to FaceTime your siblings when it's time." Kol laughs and joins her on the couch " Bekah's going to love this you know she doesn't like you because Nik loves you." " I know I'm pretty sure she won't even answer when I call her, or Elijah who I'm told doesn't remember anyone including his own siblings." Kol smiles at her " Want to me our other sister I'm sure she'll like you better than Rebekah." " Don't you have to finish getting ready." Kol pulling her up from the couch " I'm sure I can spare a few minutes for the love of Niks life to meet his older sister." Xxx "Freya this is Caroline Forbes she's an old friend." Caroline looks down her face turning red she is so much more than an old friend. " I'm here because your other siblings can't I'm going to film the wedding for them." Freya smiles at her " An old friend, Rebekah's." " Klaus." Freya looks surprised that Caroline is a friend of Klaus' " Don't worry unlike his other friends that have turned out to be evil, only want power or revenge. I'm not like that I'm the most normal vampire you've ever met." Freya looks over at Kol like is that true he nods. Xxx "Why are you calling me?" Caroline smiles into the camera " Nice to talk to you too Rebekah, now the only reason I'm calling you is because I told Klaus I would come to Kol's wedding and call you and your brothers. Your the first one I called." " So you finally decided to ditch Mystic Falls and come work for us about time. I need you to find a way to get the hollow out of us I would eventually like to congratulate my brother in person." Caroline sighs she has not missed Rebekah at all. " Rebekah if when as you say ditch Mystic Falls it will not be because I want to serve your family, I will be Klaus' girlfriend or as he would say his love." Rebekah rolls her eyes. " Just make sure I can see." Xxx "Who are you?" Caroline smiles at him she knows this is going to be tough. " Hello Elijah I really wish I wasn't the one who had to do this but I do so, my name is Caroline Forbes I have some important life changing news for you. I know this is going to sound weird but do you remember a sexy curly blonde guy with stubble wearing a leather jacket, he also has dimples and dark blue green eyes, who gave you a hundred dollar tip while you were playing the piano in Manosque France?" " Yes I remember him." " Good because he is one of your brothers you actually have seven siblings two are not are not with us anymore. You have an older sister named Freya, and then a brother named Finn who died years ago, the guy you remember who gave you a hundred dollars he is your younger brother his name is Niklaus but everyone calls him Klaus, then you have another brother named Kol who is getting married today, then you have a younger sister named Rebekah she's... High maintenance-" They hear " -Excuse me your even more high maintenance than me." Caroline sighs and looks over at the iPad that is connected to Rebekah. " Rebekah I'm trying to jog your brothers memory to get him to remember you. Also unlike you I never deliberately try to kill someone because I didn't like them." Caroline turns back to Elijah " I'm sorry about that, do you have any questions so far or can I continue?" " If I have all these siblings why can't I remember them?" Caroline looks uncomfortable she didn't sign on to explain Elijah's last thousand years to him. " I'm not the best person to explain this to you but you are a vampire one of the first ever vampires your called an original. Which means you can't be compelled you are at the top of the vampire food chain, but because of a witch and a man named Marcel you were compelled to forget your entire existence including your siblings. Also from what Klaus has told me you can't be near your siblings or your niece which is a whole different conversation because you have something called the hollow in you. Which if you and your siblings were to be in the same vicinity as each other the hollow would connect with each other." " The reason I called was to tell you your brother is getting married today and I was going to FaceTime you so you could see the wedding. Plus I love the new look less uptight more casual with the tee shirt and jacket." This is a lot of information for Elijah to comprehend. " I used to be uptight." " Well we didn't really know each other I'm friends with Klaus but every time I saw you, you had a suit on." Xxx It's finally time for the wedding everyone is on the beach. Caroline who is in a yellow sun dress has Rebekah and Elijah next to her while Klaus is on her lap. As they are waiting for Davina who Caroline still has not met yet to walk down the sand isle Caroline picks Elijah's iPad up and points to Kol who is in tan pants and a white dress shirt no shoes. " That's your brother Kol." She puts Elijah back as they hear here comes the bride. " Caroline turn me around all I see is Kol." Caroline leans down and picks up Rebekah and faces her towards the beginning of the isle and they see Davina in a floor length white lace mermaid cut spaghetti strap dress. With an array of blue, yellow, pink, orange, white and green flowers as her bouquet. She also has no shoes on. When Davina gets up to the Kol, Caroline puts Rebekah back down next to Elijah. " We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Kol Mikaelson and Davina Claire." Kol slides a ring on Davina's finger and she slides one on his finger. " Davina, you've saved me from torment in the abyss. I promise to love you without any condition, to honor you each and everyday, to laugh with you when your happy, to support you when your sad, to challenge you to be a better person and allow for you to do the same for me. I loved you yesterday and today I will love you for the rest of my life always and forever." " Kol, I take you to be my partner in life and my one true love. I trust you and honor you. I will laugh with you and cry with you. I will love you faithfully through the best and the worse. I will love you through the difficult and the easy. What may come I will be there for you. I will cherish our friendship and I will love you tomorrow and I will love you always and forever." " You are now husband and wife you may kiss your bride." Kol passionately kisses his new wife. Xxx After the wedding Caroline is walking over to the happy couple but is also talking to Klaus. " I'm never doing this again Kol and Davina's San Francisco friends keep looking at me weird because I'm carrying three iPads around. Not even for Mikaelson family christmas's or birthdays. Like I told Rebekah earlier I do not work for your family." " I would never ask you to work for my family. I have every intention to pay you, you tell me what you want and i'll give it to you." She finally gets the happy couple. " So how are my siblings?" Caroline let's out a little laugh " Well I haven't hung up on Rebekah yet who thinks I've left Mystic Falls to work for your family, I've somehow made a date with Elijah to help him understand all of this, and Klaus is going to pay me whatever I want for doing this." Kol laughs and Davina looks between them " How do you know the Mikaelsons." " She's the love of Nik's life." Caroline tries to hide the smile forming on her face. She know Klaus loves her she knows the other Mikaelsons with the exception of Freya who does not know her and Elijah who can't remember anything know Klaus loves her. She also knows Kol is only doing this to annoy Klaus. " I really wish you would stop Introducing me as that. My name is Caroline Forbes I'm a friend of Klaus' who is here to film the wedding so the other Mikaelsons can see, which by the way it was a lovely wedding." Kol smiles at her he loves introducing her as that to annoy Klaus and make Caroline uncomfortable. Davina nods she doesn't understand how someone so nice could be friends with Klaus. When they hear " You look really beautiful Davina and congratulations Kol I wish I could be there in person plus I can't believe you got married before me." Xxx Caroline hands Rebekah over to Kol. While she takes Elijah and Klaus over to a table. " Elijah I'll come to France next month to help you with everything, for now you remember him, this is one of your brothers Klaus don't let the innocent face fool you he is anything but innocent." Klaus on the iPad looks up at Caroline " Love I can be innocent." "Seriously I'm pretty sure the last time you were innocent was when you were human." "You like that I'm not some innocent small town boy." Caroline blushes " Maybe I do, and I may have decided how you can repay me for doing this." Klaus cheekily smiles at her " I can't wait for you to share." Xxx " Are you dating my brother?" Elijah's voice brings Caroline back to reality and to stop having eye sex with klaus over FaceTime. " Oh um no I mean kind of but not really we have this back and forth thing and sometimes if we are in the same room with each other our conversations get heated, we have went on a date." As Caroline is rambling Klaus is trying to stop her " Love your making a scene." " We're not dating yet I'm waiting for her to come to me however long it takes." Caroline smiles down at him while Elijah speaks " I don't remember you brother and Caroline you told me we didn't really know each other but from what I saw today it looks and sounds like you two really love each other. I wish I am that fortunate to find or have found that type of a love in my life." Caroline covers the Elijah and bends down to Klaus so she can somewhat whisper into the camera. " Should I tell him that he already found a love like that with Katherine he just doesn't remember and also Katherine is dead." " No why not you tell him when you visit him next month." " Seriously is that jealousy I hear in your voice." Klaus actually looks guilty " I'm just saying you have never came to visit me and now that you know Elijah is walking around France with no memory you book a trip to go help him." "Klaus he doesn't know who he is or what he is. He could kill someone and have no reason why he did it he needs help. Plus I would help you if you had no memories and no that is not a invitation to go find witches and piss them off enough they do something too you." Caroline looks at his sad face " Aww I've made you sad how about this when I get back I'll give you a gift." Klaus smiles at her.

#klaroline #elijah mikaelson #kolvina #rebekah mikaelson

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aplanehebuilt · 6 years ago

Text

Diagonal Away From Home

“Ready?” Roy waited a moment for me to make eye contact.

We were on the taxiway, waiting clearance to take off.

The flaps were up, the canopy closed. The long, asphalt runway stretched off to either side.

I had my sunglasses and iPad.

Bright October sun warmed the cockpit.

I was happy I’d worn a t-shirt. I was wearing the pink Love at First Flight shirt Roy bought for me at EAA Airventure. It felt appropriate for the first flight of our open ended journey.

I gave a nod. “Ready.”

The controller’s voice came over the radio; “174 Romeo-Tango, clear for take-off, left turn-out approved.” Roy pushed the throttle, turned out to the runway, and we were in the sky.

“Our plane won’t see the hangar for a long time,” Roy said. “Feels strange.”

The house that used to be our home passed underneath, then the Portland office building where I’d worked, and the Columbia river where I’d sailed.

Twenty-plus years passed by in thirty nautical miles, and five minutes. I wasn’t sad. My little girls were women now, my career complete, the house had felt big and empty, and the river too small.

I pulled out the IPad. “I have no idea where we’re staying tonight,” I said. I’d only danced around trip prep, doing laundry, packing, sorting.

”It’s okay,“ Roy replied, “I have it figured out. I’ll show you when we stop for fuel.”

I nodded and held on to my sheepskin shoulder straps. The brown grasslands of Eastern Oregon and Idaho went rolling by.

Ahead of us lay One-thousand, five-hundred nautical miles of mountains and rolling plains to our first destination: The RV Fly-In at Petit Jean, Arkansas. With luck, we’d be there in two days.

An hour later we were in Mountain Home Idaho for fuel. I plopped down on the worn, brown sofa in the pilot lounge of the FBO. Sunlight bent through dusty blinds. Roy sat down next to me. “I found a place for the night in Wyoming that has reasonably priced fuel and a pilot lounge.”

I picked up a red pen off the coffee table, and pushed around a AAA battery someone had left behind. “A pilot lounge? As in camping?”

Instead trip planning, I’d had lunch with friends, gone to the beach with my daughter, shopped and erranded. It was more denial than lack of commitment. I was excited about our travels. I wanted to explore, and experience, get to know the people and places in our country, but I was afraid I was doing the same thing I’d done since I was a child in a military family. The longest I’d ever lived in one place was Portland. I was always moving, leaving friends, undoing my life, only to re-do it again.

I set the pen down. “Can we get a hotel tonight? For our first night out?”

He shifted in his seat. “I’d prefer free.”

I glanced at the clock behind the vacant customer service desk, with it’s display case of aviation paraphernalia for sale. The building was open, but the office was not. Very few are these days.

“It’s two now, and it’s a three hour flight. Would you call to be sure they’ll be open? I’m going to use the little girls room. Be right back.”

Roy was standing by the front door when I returned. “They close at five. Lets beat tracks.”

In the sky again. Grassland gave way to steep, forested slopes. In the distance, mountain peaks were dusted with early season snow.

I watched our ETA. Five thirty. Ten minutes ticked by. ETA was 5:40. I pointed at the Dynon in front of me. “Looks like we’ve picked up a headwind,” I said.

Roy nodded.

We weren't going to make it by five thirty. “Rawlins, Wyoming,” I said. “We stopped last year on our way to Petit Jean. Remember? The line guy was super nice and gave us a ride to a hotel.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “A hotel it is.” He shrugged and changed our course.

The mountains rose in front of us. Ten thousand feet above sea-level. Crystal blue lakes and patches of snow provided a deceptively inviting landscape. There were no ‘plan B’s’ for us here. Roy was focused on engine monitoring. He pointed at the navigation display in front of him. Four triangles with long yellow lines. The lines indicate speed and direction.

“Those guys are fast,” he said. I looked off our wing. I felt the rumble in my inner ear before I saw them. Four F-15’s sped by. “Caution wake turbulence,” I said. No sooner had I said the words than our plane bounced side to side. A con-trail ran in a long, white line where they’d been, then curved around toward us. “They’re coming back,” I squirmed in my seat. “They can see us, right?” Headlines flashed across my brain; Small plane obliterated in mid-Air collision with military fighter.

Roy turned a knob on the flight deck, and our plane banked gently to the left. “I think we’re fine,” he said, “but just in case.”

No sooner had he said the words than the jets were off our wing again, four of them, so close I could see the pilots. I inhaled sharply. “I think they’re looking at us.”

Roy grinned. “They’re probably thinking, cool plane. Wish I was flying one of those.”

The mountains rolled down to dark, rocky plains, liked plains like curled fists. Roy pulled the throttle back and we began our descent. Two states away, and it wasn’t even dinner time yet. It is a cool plane, I thought, and smiled. I’m ready.

#vansaircraft #experimentalaircraft #rv7a #travelwriting #travelphotography #travelblogger #svtranquility

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ponticle · 8 years ago

Text

Week Seven [11 Weeks - Anderstair Challenge]

[masterpost]

[read it on ao3]

Chapter Summary: Anders finally tells Alistair about what happened two weeks earlier. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

“Are you kidding me? We are not fine,” says Alistair. He’s glaring at me through my iPad.

“I told you what happened. I didn’t lie about it…” I mumble.

“That doesn’t make it much better.”

I feel my eyes widening. “How do you figure that!?” I shout. “He got way too drunk. He kissed me. I told him no and left the room. How much better could I have handled that?!”

“Why were you in bed with him in the first place?” asks Alistair.

That’s the question, isn’t it? Why? Truthfully, it felt good. We were both wallowing—granted, nothing bad was actively happening to me two weeks ago, but I remember that sadness. I remember the feeling of utter aloneness and disappointment when Alistair and I broke up the first time.

And… if I'm honest with myself, cuddling up in bed with Hawke is familiar. It reminds me of college and the wistful feeling we used to have about our lives.

“...and,” Alistair adds, “why did it take you two fucking weeks to tell me?”

I take exception to his tone, but I have no good argument. I open and close my mouth a few times, inhaling and huffing, but no words come out.

“Anders…” huffs Alistair. “I love you. I don’t understand why you would do this. I know a single kiss isn’t inherently a big deal… but I feel like this is a sign that we aren’t doing as well as I thought we were.”

I try to argue, but he cuts me off.

“—I just don’t understand why infidelity is such a big theme in our lives.”

Me neither.

“I need to go…” he says suddenly.

“Please don’t.” I bring the camera closer to my face so he’ll see how sincere I am. “Don’t leave like this…”

“I’m not leaving ‘like anything’,” he says. “I just need a little space. I don’t want to say something I regret...”

Old Anders would have argued with that—pushed him until he really did say something. But I’m not that person anymore, so I let him hang up.

I drag myself through the day. It feels impossible to move forward—like crawling through rapidly-drying cement. I want to talk to Hawke about it—since he’s the only other person who knows what happened—but I can’t because he thinks I already told Alistair about this when it first happened (like a sensible person would have).

Instead of dealing with it, I throw myself into school and try to make good decisions about food and hydration and exercise. The only things I can control are self-care-related and I’m going to need to employ all my tools to get through this.

That night, I find myself at the Hanged Man.

“Hey,” says Hawke. He’s sitting in his usual seat. Isabela is next to him.

I flop into the seat on his other side and let my elbows rest on the bar.

“What’s going on, Buddy?” he asks.

I groan. I don’t really want to tell him why I’m upset, since it means I’ll have to explain that I lied to him last week, but I do it anyway.

“I told Alistair about what happened,” I say.

Isabela elbows Hawke in the ribs. “See?” she cackles, “I told you he didn’t tell Al last week!”

Hawke shakes his head like he’s disappointed in me.

“I know… I’m an ass…” I mumble.

“He really hates me now, doesn’t he?” asks Hawke. He looks equally embarrassed and sorry; I feel terrible.

“No… he hates me,” I answer.

“He doesn’t,” says Isabela flatly. “He’s crazy about you.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d talked to him this morning,” I argue.

Isabela leans across Hawke to look me in the face. “We have bigger problems than this to deal with today…” She looks at Hawke pointedly.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” Hawke sighs, “Merrill called this morning. She’s not coming home.”

“What?”

“...yeah… ever,” Hawke adds.

Isabela rolls her eyes. “That’s not true, Hawke… She just hasn’t booked a return ticket yet. We need to change her mind.”

They both look at me expectantly—as if I’m someone who can fix this.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“Out in San Francisco with her cousins,” answers Hawke.

“I still think you should go out there and get her,” says Isabela. “Grand gesture style.”

“You could do that,” I mumble. I squint at the woodgrain of the bar and try to think. It’s hard for me to know what to do because the way Merrill’s brain works is a lot different than mine.

“I don’t think that would help,” says Hawke. “She doesn’t really respond to being chased.”

“I think you need to wait this out,” I say.

“That doesn’t sound like a very Anders-y thing to say,” says Isabela.

I laugh. “It isn’t, really… but I’m learning that waiting is the right thing to do in lots of situations…”

They sigh.

“It certainly doesn’t feel good, though,” I add. “I just wish Alistair would call…”

“Oh, are we back on your thing now?” laughs Isabela.

“Sorry…”

Hawke laughs. He moves his hand like he’s going to pat my knee, but he stops short. I understand why, but it highlights how weird everything is right now.

“I don’t actually want to keep talking about Merrill, anyway,” he offers. “Let’s talk about you, Bel…”

“Thank god—I never thought this day would come,” she laughs.

“What’s new?” I ask.

“Well… my store is doing great,” she says. “I’m expanding to designer recycled denim in the spring.”

“For men?” I ask. Even though I’m not usually into shopping, I really like clothes that fit.

She pouts. “Not this season… maybe next one?”

Hawke laughs. Nothing even fits him. As bad as those sweaters were the other week, pants are harder—his quads never fit in anything. I remember shopping with him during the brief period we were dating—it was a comedy of errors.

Over a Decade Ago

“You have to at least come out,” I say.

Hawke snorts.

I suppose I walked right into that one. His own coming out as bisexual went over pretty smoothly at school—New England universities are like that. And so far, none of our friends have given us any relationship-pushback. We’ve been together for exactly two weeks, which, by college standards is a year. Since we’re already roommates, we’ve spent a lot of those nights cuddling and talking until the sun came up. We haven’t done anything else yet, but I feel like it’s coming…

Right now, I would settle for getting him out of the dressing room. He’s been in there for fifteen minutes. I want to open the door and see what he’s doing, but he didn’t invite me, so I’m not going to push it.

“I can’t come out like this,” says Hawke.

I let my head fall painfully against the door. “Why?”

“Because my quads are ridiculously huge,” he says.

I laugh, “Are you bragging?”

“No, it’s just stupid…” he says. “You can come in here and see, though… if you want to laugh.” He opens the door ajar.

“I always want to laugh,” I say, stepping inside.

When I get in there, he’s standing pitifully with the jeans halfway up one leg. The funniest part is the pouty look of defeat he’s wearing.

“See? Ridiculous…” he grumbles.

I cup his cheek in my hand. “I think you look adorable—I prefer you undressed, I think.” It’s a brave thing for me to say, considering I haven’t actually seen him naked yet.

He smirks.

“Besides…” I raise an eyebrow. “I think it’s bragging rights to have a boyfriend with super muscular legs…”

I expect him to laugh or smile or kiss me, but he doesn’t. His face falls, actually.

“What?”

“...um…” he clears his throat. He’s turning red. “I’m not sure we’re there yet…”

I squint. I haven’t a clue what he means.

“...boyfriend?” he adds.

Oh.

We say some things that mitigate the situation—words I won’t remember because of the whooshing in my ears. I thought we were doing something really different than what we were actually doing. It doesn’t stop us from fooling around for the next few weeks, but eventually it dissolves into something else entirely…

Presently

….into a friendship I still have—one I really care about. When I think about it, Hawke and I just don’t fit in a romantic relationship. I’m those pants that he can’t pull over his quads. But Merrill isn’t. They fit since day one. So, assuming she hasn’t shrunk in the wash, there has to be a way to fix this.

“Why don’t you call her and tell her you need to talk in person?” I ask.

They both look at me. I think they were onto a new conversation already. I was so lost in thought that I haven’t been listening.

“You don’t think he’s already done that?” asks Isabela.

“I mean… without any emotion attached—just honestly,” I say. “Tell her you respect where she’s coming from and you’ll stand by whatever decision the two of you come to, but that you need to be given the chance to come to it together.”

They look dumbfounded. I guess I can be clever.

“Okay, Anders…” says Hawke finally. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“You need to deal with Alistair that frankly too…” he says.

I sigh. “You drive a hard bargain…”

He smiles.

“...but you’re right.”

#anderstair #anders x alistair #alistair theirin #past handers #dragon age fanfic #dragon age modern au #coffee shop universe

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aquestlikethat · 8 years ago

Text

Proud Defense

Written for a contest for @asksamstuff

Post 12X16 Ladies Drink Free After the disasterous hunt with Claire and Mick, Sam and Dean just want to work a simple case. What they get instead is a blast from the past, and a look at the future.

Here is the comic it is based off of.

“So, get this,” Sam calls as Dean saunters into the kitchen, making a bee-line for the coffee pot.

“Whoa, whoa hold on.” Dean mumbles before Sam can continue. The younger man opens his mouth but Dean puts a hand up and pours a cup of coffee, keeping his palm toward Sam until he is finished and has taken a sip. “Okay, now you can geek out all you want about whatever case you’ve found for us.” He says, lowering his hand and dropping to sit at the table.

Sam glares at his brother for a moment before protesting “Dude-“

“Hey, don’t act so surprised.” The older hunter interrupts again, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the table. “That’s always what you say when you’re about to pitch a case to me and man, it’s too early for research unless I’ve had some coffee first.”

Sam stares at his brother for a moment before shaking his head. He slides his computer to where Dean can see the screen, pointedly knocking his bare feet off the table in doing so.

“So ge-“ he pauses, ignoring Dean’s snort, “Look at this article. Ashville, North Carolina. Says here that kids have been going missing overnight and their bodies are being found the next day in the middle of the woods, ‘half buried with multiple lacerations to the head and torso.’”

“Okay…” Dean comments, thinking as he sips his coffee, “Could be an animal attack. What makes you think this is our kind of thing?” he asks.

Sam holds up a finger before scrolling down the page and reading directly from the article, “’The bodies were found standing vertically, as if they had sunk into the ground.’” He looks at Dean, waiting for his response.

Dean downs the rest of his black coffee, grimacing at the temperature. “Okay that does ping my weird meter.” He pauses, his eyes moving down the article, before asking, “How many victims?”

The younger Winchester nods sadly. “Two so far.”

“Alright then, let’s get packed up.” Dean starts toward his room, turns back and asks, “Sam? Did this hunt come from-“

Sam interrupts him, shaking his head. “This one is all me.” Dean nods and takes the last few steps out of the room.

Alone in their industrial sized kitchen Sam nods to himself, scanning the names of the victims again. He understood Dean’s hesitance. After what happened on the hunt with Claire and Mick, Sam is also reluctant to take hunts form the British Men of Letters, despite the results they get. Maybe taking out something that is targeting children will help him forget the heartbroken cries that haunt his dreams.

~*~*~*~

Sam hands Dean his fake FBI badge, pocketing his own and opening his door to head into the police station. He stops when he realized his brother is not following him. The younger man bends down to look back into the car at Dean who is staring at his badge. “Dude, come on. What are you waiting for?”

The older man looks at Sam, turning his badge toward his brother. “Seriously? Agent Rosenberg?” Sam scoffs and looks away. “And I supposed you’re ‘Agent Summers’ then?” Dean jokes. Sam’s cheeks turn red. “Oh my God you didn’t.”

Sam slams his door and begins walking toward the building, his brother rushing to follow him. “You know, if you were going to go all geeky on me you could have at least made yourself the nerd. If we’re both chicks I’m definitely the badass Slayer.” He teases.

Sam tries to hide a laugh. “Call me a geek all you want, but you got the reference too, Dean.” He fires back, making Dean stop in his tracks.

The older Winchester shakes his head at his giant nerd of a brother. “Sammy the Vampire Slayer!” he calls after ‘Agent Summers’, hurrying to catch up with Sam’s longer stride.

~*~*~*~

The police station isn’t very busy and soon the hunters are directed to an elevator near the back of the building. Pulling their badges, the brothers step out of the elevator on the bottom floor.

“Hello.” Dean calls. “Anyone down here? Special Agents …” he rolls his eyes, “Rosenberg and Summers.”

A short woman with long brown hair tied high on her head steps around the corner. “FBI?” she asks, then shakes her head. “How may I help you gentlemen?”

Sam smiles at her. “We’d like to take a look at the bodies from the woods? David Nelson and Austin Bradford?”

The coroner nods sadly. “I guess I should have known that was what you were here for. We don’t exactly have a low crime rate here, but not much involving children. Most of the town is shaken up and you can count on parents keeping a closer eye on their young ones.” Sam gives her a sympathetic nod, a sad glint in his eyes. “Right this way, agents.”

She leads them into the next room which has four steel tables in the middle of the floor and drawers along one wall. Two of the tables are currently occupied by shapes under white sheets. The bodies look tiny in the sparse room.

“I’m Jenna Spear, by the way.” She introduces herself, holding her gloved hands out. “I’d shake your hands, but…”

“That’s fine, Dr. Spear.” Sam smiles. “I’m Sam Summers, this is my partner, Dean Rosenberg.” Jenna nods to them before walking to the closest table.

The three of them gather around the table as Jenna pulls back the sheet to reveal the body of a young boy. “This is Austin Bradford, the first victim.” She explains, handing them the file from the end of the table. “He was found two three nights ago. David Nelson was found the next night.”

“No victim from last night, though?” Dean asks.

“No.” she shakes her head. “Like I said, parents have been keeping a real close eye on their kids. But I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time. The local kids love to go out to the cemetery in the woods. It’s a traditional dare or something.”

Sam pulls out his phone. “Cemetery in the woods?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s this really old spot from back when the town was first founded. Kids go out there all the time. The younger ones just want a bit of a scare, but older kids get up to all kinds of trouble out there.”

“Dr. Spear,” Sam asks, holding up a map of the woods on his phone. “Do you think you could show me about where this cemetery is?” She nods and examines the map for a moment before drawing a circle around a small portion of woods.

“Should be somewhere around there.” Sam examines the map where she circled.

“Thank you very much.” Dean smiles at her, handing her a card. “If you find anything else give us a call, okay?”

“My pleasure.” She covers the body again, then adds, “Agents. Please find the monster that did this.”

Sam and Dean share a glance at her word choice before nodding. As they exit the morgue Jenna nods to herself, reenergized in her search for clues.

~*~*~*~

“So what are you thinking?” Dean asks as they walk into their hotel room.

Sam pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it over his chair, rubbing one hand down his face. “I don’t know. According to the coroner’s report their hearts weren’t missing.”

“Rules out werewolves then.” Dean adds. “Any other ideas?”

Sam shakes his head, digging for his iPad. “There’s got to be something about the way the bodies were found. I feel like I’ve read something like that before…” He trails off, tapping at his screen.

“Great. Looks like it’s more research for us.” Dean mumbles, dropping into the seat opposite from Sam and pulling out a laptop.

Sam sets his tablet down on the table with a little more force than necessary, rubbing at his eyes. Dean, who had long since gotten frustrated with their fruitless search for answers in the Men of Letters database Sam created, sits on his bed cleaning the guns. “Well, you lasted longer than even I thought you would.” He comments and Sam sighs. “Come on man, take a break. If you haven’t found anything in there yet with your giant nerd brain maybe there’s nothing to be found.”

Sam sighs again, resting his face in his hands. “I know there’s something here. I know I’ve read something about this, if I could just remember-“ he reaches for the tablet again. Dean sighs and walks up to the table, putting his hand on the computer to keep Sam from picking it up.

“Look, Sam. I want to find this thing as much as you do, but it won’t do the kids of this town any good to burn ourselves out with research and then not be able to even fight the thing.” He pauses. “You’ll remember whatever it is that’s pinging at the back of your mind eventually, but this isn’t helping.”

Sam moves his hand from the tablet, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right.” He sighs. “But I can’t just sit here, Dean. Not when people are dying, when kids are dying.”

Dean nods. “I know. It’s getting late. How about this, let’s finish cleaning the guns, and then if we still haven’t come up with anything when we’re done, we’ll go out to the cemetery ourselves and see if we can find anything that will help.” He waits a second, but Sam’s eyes are still closed. “Sound like a plan?” Sam nods, stands up, and gets to work cleaning a gun.

~*~*~*~

“I don’t know, Dean.” Sam starts, as they pack the guns back into the duffle bag in order to move them back into the Impala’s secret compartment. “We have no idea what we’re dealing with. Do you really think it’s a good idea to just go out into the woods where-“

“Sam, come on!” Dean interrupts his brother. “You were all for this plan an hour ago.”

“Yeah, but now that we’ve taken a break I feel like I can find whatever it is-“ Sam starts again, moving for his tablet.

“Hey. If there was something to be found with the information we have, you would have found it earlier. I know you Sam. We’re not going to get any further without more information.” He sighs, looking down. “Look, we’ll take angel blades. They kill almost anything, it will be fine.”

Sam hesitates for another moment. “Fine. I don’t think we should be charging into the woods without even knowing what we’re dealing with, much less how to kill it.” He looks down and his shoulders tighten. “But you’re right. We aren’t going to get anywhere without knowing more about what we’re looking for and I can’t just sit here and wait for another victim to give us that information. Let’s go.”

~*~*~*~

It’s not a long drive from the hotel where they are staying to the entrance to the woods. They park the Impala at the edge of the trail and go to the trunk to get their weapons. It is the middle of the night and there are no other cars around.

“So what are we thinking?” Dean asks his brother, who is staring at the map of the woods on his phone and comparing it to a paper one they picked up from the hotel office.

Sam points to a spot on the map. “Okay, this is where the coroner said the cemetery is.” He checks his phone again and then nods to himself, sliding his finger over the map. “And this is the area where the bodies were found, according to the police report. So,” he trails off, checking the map on his phone once more, “if we are here, we should take this trail.” He points to a thin line wandering through the woods on the map, then looks around and motions toward an opening in the trees marked with a trail sign.

“Alright then.” Dean nods, grabbing his angel blade and a flashlight and handing Sam the same. “Let’s go kill a monster.”

“How far is it to where the bodies were found?” Dean asks again, making a show of dragging his feet over the dirt trail.

Sam rolls his eyes, “Just a little closer than the last time you asked.” He fires back, scanning the woods with his flashlight before moving the beam back to the trail in front of him.

Dean huffs in annoyance. “I hate hiking.” He grumbles. When Sam ignores him, continuing to trudge ahead, he adds, “I guess you’re in your element though, am I right, ‘she who hangs out in cemeteries’?”

“Dean.” Sam hisses.

“Oh come on, Buffy. You know I’m not-“ Dean sighs, stopping when he sees where Sam’s flashlight is pointing. The ground in front of them is marked with two trenches each about half a foot across. They run parallel to each other, a little more than a foot apart. Dean walks a little further and notices that they get deeper the farther he goes. He looks at the ground behind them, before the trenches start, and sees the imprints of footsteps, not quite as deep as the beginning of the trenches, leading right up to the disturbed ground Sam still stands in front of. “Damn.” He mutters under his breath.

Sam has pulled the map out and is holding his flashlight with his shoulder to examine it again. “We’re almost to where the bodies were found.” Dean comes over and holds his flashlight to the map, allowing Sam to take his light out of its precarious position. “Thanks. Another nine hundred feet or so is where the first body was found.”

Sam folds the map up again and the brothers walk on, one on each side of the small trenches, a new awareness of their surroundings evident in the motions of their flashlights across the path and the surrounding forest. The trenches continue to get deeper as the brothers walk further into the woods. They don’t talk, just continue to scan the trees with their lights. Finally, they come to a place where the two trenches, now almost a foot deep, merge into a single hole in the ground that sinks deeper even than the lowest points of the trenches.

“This must be where the first body was found.” Sam comments, shining his light down into the hole.

“What could do this?” Dean asks as he looks behind them at the trail of disturbed earth leading up to where they stand.

Sam shakes his head and Dean can see frustration in his very posture. “There’s something about this…” he shakes his head again and pulls out the map once more.

“So what about the other victim? Were they found in the same, uh, place?” Dean asks, shining his light around him in search of another hole.

Sam is examining the map. “No, the police report said he was found off the trail, sunk into the ground just like the first kid.” He heaves a frustrated sigh and folds the map again. “They weren’t very specific about where off the trail though so I guess we’re just going to have to look around.”

Dean sighs as well. “Great, not only are we in the woods, but now we have to go hiking through the underbrush. Just what I want to be doing on a Friday night.”

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother’s complaining. “As far as I can tell, the second victim was found on the left side of the trail so that at least narrows it down a little bit.” Dean grumbles as the younger hunter continues, “You want to look back the way we came or ahead of us?”

“I’ll go check back the way we came.” Dean decides. “Just in case you missed something since your freakishly long legs make you so far from the ground.” He jokes as he turns to walk back toward the entrance to the woods.

Sam rolls his eyes and steps off the trail to the left, scanning the ground with his flashlight. Almost immediately, he begins to notice signs that someone passed through here, just close enough to the path to see it through the trees but far enough away that they would not be seen through the underbrush. The hunter follows the trail and notices the same markings that covered the ground leading up to the hole where the first victim was found. A line of deep footprints leading into two deepening trenches ahead of him that begin to track back toward the path.

“Dean!” Sam calls to his brother over his shoulder to let him know he found something, before kneeling down to examine the footprints more closely. He hears footsteps behind him. “That was fast, were you even look-“ his words are cut off in a grunt when something heavy lands on his back. “What the hell?” He twists around as much as possible but all he can make out of what is climbing onto his shoulders in a dark shape. Sam tries to throw it off by twisting his body but he feels clawed hands digging into his shoulders and lets out a pained yell. His vision goes bright with the pain and in the empty whiteness he sees a clearing filled with crumbling tombstones, the cemetery. As the thought comes to his mind he feels a pull somewhere inside himself and suddenly all he wants is to get to that cemetery. The hunter struggles to stand under the extreme weight of the monster on his back and takes a step deeper into the woods.

Each lifting of his feet is a struggle, the creature on his back is heavier than should be possible and he feels his heels begin to sink into the ground as he walks. Still, all he can think about is getting to the cemetery. Some part of him finally realizes what it is they are hunting but that voice is far in the back of his head, hidden under the pressing importance of the cemetery he saw in his mind and the crushing weight of the creature on his back. He breaks out of the woods and steps back onto the path, still moving slowly and painfully deeper into the forest. The creature on his shoulders seems to be getting impossibly heavier with each step he takes until he can no longer lift his feet and is instead forced to drag them over the ground. He finally understands in that place at the back of his mind how the trenches leading up to the holes were made. Even though the hunter knows where this is leading for him if he even slows the creature digs its hands deeper into the flesh of his shoulders and sinks heavier onto him until Sam can almost feel his spine creaking under the pressure.

The younger Winchester takes another painful, sliding step toward the cemetery, wondering how he is even standing at this point, when he hears an explosion of sound from the trees to his left.

“Hey Chucky! Get off my brother!” Dean yells as he runs out of the woods, angel blade in hand.

“Dean!” Sam grunts as his brother charges up to him and slashes at the creature on his back.

The monster hisses into Sam’s ear and he gets another image of the cemetery, whiting out his vision, before the weight falls from his back. Suddenly, Sam’s legs can’t hold him up and he finds himself dropping painfully to the ground. He hears scurrying in the woods beside him and his brother cursing as he lays there panting and blinking at the spots still covering his vision.

Dean yells after the creature one more time, Sam can’t quite make out his words and realizes for the first time that his ears are ringing, before dropping in front of his brother. “Sam?” Dean calls, a hand on his brother’s back. “Sammy, you okay? Talk to me man!”

Sam can hear the concern in his brother’s tone and he wants to answer him, he just has to get enough air into his gasping lungs to be able to speak. For the moment he just nods and continues taking deep gulps of air, trying to breathe around the ache in his back. Dean must understand that Sam can’t speak yet and waits, his hand still on the younger man’s back, for which Sam is grateful. Behind his closed eyes Sam can almost see Dean scanning the woods for the creature’s return, worry lines stretched across his mouth and beside his eyes.

After a few minutes of deep breaths Sam feels much better and decides he can get up now. He starts to shift so he can push himself up on his elbows. “Woah, easy. Let me help, Sam.” Dean’s voice is soft but Sam can still hear the worry as his brother slides an arm across his chest, taking the younger man’s weight from his shaking arms. He pulls Sam upright slowly until he is sitting up, one hand still across his back keeping him that way. “How about we don’t try to sit up on our own when we still haven’t opened our eyes, huh?” Dean teases softly and it is only then that Sam realizes that his eyes are, in fact, still closed.

He grunts, still not feeling like he has enough oxygen to spare for proper speech, before forcing his lids open. And then wishing he hadn’t. The whole world spins and Sam finds himself falling forward, only kept from kissing the dirt of the path by his brother steering his head to drop onto his shoulder. Sam groans again.

“What did I tell you?” Sam can hear the smirk in Dean’s voice. Then more serious, “Give it a second, Samuel.” The younger Winchester feels his lips tug up in a smile at that and does what he’s told.

Even behind his closed lids Sam can see the light in the woods changing and realizes that the sun must be starting to rise. “Think I’m good now.” He croaks, surprised at how much breathing still hurts his back. He pulls away and manages to sit up on his own. Dean looks doubtful but then he looks at the brightening sky around them. He sighs. “We do need to get going before the sun finishes coming up and we start running into hikers.” He looks Sam over again, then stands. Sam starts to push himself to his knees, but Dean drops a hand to his shoulder, making him hiss in pain. “Sam? You okay?” Sam nods and motions to his shoulders. Dean takes a closer look and notices for the first time now that the sky is brightening, the tears in the fabric of his brother’s shirt. “Holy shit, Sam! You didn’t tell me you were hurt!” He goes to kneel in front of Sam again but the younger hunter brushes him off. “Was a little busy breathing. Plus, s’ not that bad. You’re right. Need to get out of here. It can wait till the hotel.” He sentences are a little choppy and he knows Dean notices but breathing still hurts the muscles of his back and he wants to use as little air as possible.

His brother sighs. “Fine, but I’m checking them out when we get to the car.” Sam rolls his eyes and then winces at the beginnings of a headache he can feel massing behind his eyes. “Alright, let’s get you up. You good to walk?” He asks, gripping Sam under the elbows. Sam nods gingerly, attempting and failing to minimize the pain in his head. “Okay, let me do most of the work, I don’t want you passing out on me and making me carry your heavy ass out of here.” Dean says before counting to three and lifting Sam slowly to his feet.

Sam closes his eyes against the dizziness at the altitude change, leaning into his brother’s grip on his forearms. He’s pretty sure Dean is holding up almost all of his weight and tries to take some for himself. Dean puts one of Sam’s arms over his shoulder and the younger man winces at how it pulls at his wounds. “Sorry.” Dean comments and Sam shakes his head. He needs all the support he can get to walk out of here and maybe the pain will help keep him awake. Now that he is upright he feels just how exhausted he is. His entire body is begging him to rest and the only thing keeping him upright is Dean’s arm across his waist.

They make their stumbling way back to the Impala, just as the sun comes fully into the sky. The black car still stands alone in the lot beside the woods and Dean breathes a sigh of relief at that as he steers his brother to the passenger side.

Sam is nearly dead weight, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, and Dean struggles to dig the keys out of his pocket before unlocking his Baby and dropping his brother gently onto the leather seat. Once he is sure Sam isn’t going to fall out of the car, he goes to the trunk and digs for the first aid kit, bringing it back to where Sam leans in the car, nearly passed out.

“Alright, Sam. I just need a little help and then you can pass out all you want. Let’s get these layers off.” He talks mostly to himself as he works, Sam is too exhausted to be much help but eyes are still open and he tracks Dean’s movements.

The older Winchester hisses when he sees the wounds, deep punctures on both of Sam’s shoulders from the creature digging its claws into his brother. “This is going to sting.” He warns the younger man before pouring alcohol over the punctures, making sure some gets into all of them as Sam grunts in pain. “Sorry man. Almost done.” Dean continues to narrate as he pulls gauze out of the kit to cover each of his brother’s shoulders, taping it down, and then patting Sam’s chest. “All done.” He tells Sam, who just nods, biting his lip so hard Dean knows he’s about to make it bleed.

He doesn’t say anything, just packs up the first aid kit as fast as he can before throwing it back into the trunk and sliding into the driver’s seat of the Impala. Sam is leaning back against the seat, eyes closed, but Dean can tell by his breathing that the younger man isn’t asleep. When he has started the car and pulled back out onto the road - avoiding as many bumps as he can so as not to cause his brother any additional pain - Sam finally speaks. “Myling.”

Dean shoots his brother a confused look but Sam’s eyes are still closed. “Come again?” Sam doesn’t answer and for a moment Dean thinks he must have imagined the first time.

After a minute, Sam sighs and repeats. “Myling. The creature. That’s what it is. I figured it out.”

“Alright, Sammy.” Dean grins at his brother but the younger man’s eyes are still closed.

Sam still manages a smile and asks, “Does this mean you get to figure out how to kill it when we get back to the hotel?”

Dean rolls his eyes but he knows Sam is right. Dean will be doing the research, at least until Sam has rested a little from their encounter with the Myling. The older Winchester will actually enjoy figuring out how to kill the son of a bitch who hurt his brother.

~*~*~

Sam shifts uncomfortably at the pain in his back. He struggles to remember where he is and why his muscles feel so sore. He and Dean were on a hunt, he remembers that much.

They couldn’t figure out what they were hunting so they went out into the woods, and then – the memory all but smacks Sam in the face. Following the trail to the second hole, calling Dean, the creature climbing on his back, and then the cemetery, the all-encompassing need to get there. Sam tears his eyes open and looks desperately around him. He remembers Dean stabbing the creature but not much after that.

When his vision finally comes into focus, Sam sees his brother sitting at a table, concern on his face. The younger hunter looks around, taking in more of his surroundings, before realizing that he is back in their hotel room. How he got here, though, is another story.

When he looks again at his brother, Dean is still watching him with concern on his face. The older hunter must see the confusion on Sam’s face. “After I got you to the car you kind of passed out.” He tells Sam. “I practically had to carry your heavy ass in here to put you in bed.” Sam can feel shame creeping into his face for passing out and leaving Dean to take care of everything. His brother adds, “You did manage to stay awake long enough in the car to at least tell me what we were facing.” Dean grins at him.

Sam gives him a quizzical look before the memory hits him again. A Myling. It was so clear, he doesn’t know why it took him so long to figure it out. “Myling.” He repeats. “Figure out how to kill it yet?” He starts to push himself up in bed, wincing at the fire that erupts in his shoulders, adding to the dull ache of his back.

Suddenly, Dean is beside him. “Alright, easy there Rambo. Let me help.” He pulls Sam up until he is leaning against the headboard, pillows behind him to soften the surface for his back. “That good?” Dean asks and Sam nods, still catching his breath. “How’s the head?” His brother asks, just as Sam registers the pounding starting up in his temples from all the movement. He turns to Dean, wondering how his brother knew his head was bothering him even before Sam did. Dean shrugs, “It was hurting you last night in the car. Plus your eyes got all squinty like they do when you get a migraine. How bad is it?”

Sam thinks for a moment before answering, “Four. S’ not that bad.”

Dean looks at him for another second, trying to decide how truthful he’s being, before stepping away. “Mylings,” the older hunter comments, “more like demon zombie babies.”

Sam gives him a look that says, ‘Seriously?’ and Dean rolls his eyes. “Right, I mean, ‘the incarnation of the soul of a child born out of wedlock’” he reads from a page pulled up on the laptop, then walks over to Sam with the younger man’s tablet. When Sam reaches for it Dean pulls it back and hands him some pills first, nodding to a glass of water already waiting on the nightstand. Sam sighs but swallows the pills before taking his tablet from his brother.

He opens the iPad immediately and begins talking. “It’s more than that, Dean. These children were taken out into the woods and left to die because their very birth was illegal.” He stops scrolling and reads, “’Now Mylings are said to chase lone wanderers at night and jump on their backs, demanding to be carried to the graveyard, so they can rest in hallowed ground’.” He looks up at Dean. “The thing is, the closer you get to hallowed ground, the heavier the Myling gets. It’s almost impossible to make it there.” He shakes his head at himself. “It all makes so much sense now. That’s why the bodies were found in holes like they were. And the trenches leading up to the holes, those were made when they dragged their feet, trying to get to the cemetery. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.”

Dean rolls his eyes at his geek of a brother. “It says here that if the person is unable to get the Myling to the cemetery it will ‘kill its victim in rage’.” Dean adds. “What I’m not seeing anything about is how the victim knows what to do. Like, how did those kids know to take it toward the cemetery? How did you?” He asks.

“It was like, this vision.” Sam answers. “When it climbed on top of me, it dug its claws into my shoulders,” the hunter moves a hand to rest gently over the healing punctures in his shoulder. “And when it did, my vision went kind of white and I saw this cemetery. Really old…” Sam trails off, seeing the vision again in his mind. “And I was filled with this overpowering urge to get there, no matter what.” He looks at Dean.

“So the demon baby climbed on your back and you suddenly wanted to give it a piggy back ride of death? Those are some ‘killer’ Dad instincts.” He smirks.

“Shut up” Sam rolls his eyes.

Dean huffs a laugh. “Okay, well unfortunately I’m also not seeing much about how to kill it.” He frowns. “The angel blade barely hurt it and I get the feeling it only ran off because the sun was coming up soon and we presented more of a fight than it was willing to give. So, any bright ideas for how to kill it, Einstein?”

Sam is looking at his tablet, but he doesn’t seem to be reading anything. Dean can almost see the gears turning in his brother’s head. Finally, he seems to have an inspiration, scrolling rapidly down the page. He stops on something and nods to himself. “Okay, want to share with the class?” Dean asks.

“Of course” Sam says, still talking to himself. He looks at Dean. “What if the lore doesn’t tell us how to kill it because we don’t have to kill it?”

Dean frowns. “Uh, Sam. This thing is killing people, kids. I’m pretty sure it’s in our job description to kill it.”

“No.” Sam says, “I mean, yes we have to get rid of it, make it stop killing people, but what if the way to do that isn’t to kill it?”

Dean is still confused. “What, Sam? You want to sit it down and tell it the consequences of its actions? Put it in time out and tell it to ‘think about what it’s done’? I don’t think that’s going to work.”

Sam waves off his brother’s teasing, again looking at his tablet. “The Myling is the soul of a child born out of wedlock that was left in the woods to die, right?” He asks.

“Yeah, Sam. We read that already. I’m not following you here.”

“Well, back in the days when having a child out of wedlock was illegal, burial was also very important. More specifically, religious burial on hallowed ground.” He pauses but Dean is still looking unsure. “If people got in trouble with the Church the worst punishment they could get was to be excommunicated, which meant they couldn’t have a proper Christian burial. They believed that the soul couldn’t ascend into heaven to be at rest without such a burial. The Myling wants to get to the cemetery, maybe if we get it there it will, I don’t know, cross over.”

Dean looks doubtful. “You really think that will work, Ghost Whisperer?”

Sam looks back at his tablet. “I don’t know. But the Myling, the child it was before it was killed, it wasn’t evil. Maybe they don’t mean to hurt others now. I mean, they’ve only been shown hatred, how could they know any better? I think it’s worth a shot.”

Dean nods, “Alright, you’re the expert on research. If you think it will work, I trust you.” He doesn’t miss the small smile that sneaks onto his brother’s face at his words. “There’s one problem though, how are we going to get it to the cemetery?”

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t think we can just lure it there, I think it will have to be carried onto hallowed ground.”

“Right, and that worked so well last time.” Dean comments.

“We just need to get as close to the cemetery as possible before it jumps us.” Sam says.

“It only attacked us when we split up,” Dean remembers, “and the lore says it attacks ‘lone wanderers’,”

“So maybe if we don’t split up it won’t attack right away. It will wait until we get closer.” Sam finishes a smile on his face. God, he is such a giant nerd, Dean thinks.

“Okay.” Dean, nods. “We’ll go out as soon as it gets dark enough. And Sam,” he adds, “I’m going to carry it into the cemetery.”

“No, Dean. It already has its sights on me. I’ll do it.”

“Exactly, you’re already hurt, which is why I should be the one to do this. Let’s please just not argue about this. I’m going to need you to have my back but please just let me to this.”

Sam holds out for a moment but this sighs, nodding. “Fine, but at any sign of trouble, I will take it from you.”

Dean rolls his eyes fondly at his stubborn little brother but nods, knowing Sam isn’t kidding. No matter how hurt he is, he will find a way to watch out for his brother. He smiles and begins gathering things together in preparation for tonight.

~*~*~*~

They make it all the way to the hole where the first victim was found without any sign of the Myling. The brothers stay close, using their flashlights to scan the woods around them for movement. “How long do you think it’s going to let us just stroll through the woods?” Dean asks but Sam just shakes his head.

“No idea. Let’s just hope it waits until we are close enough to the cemetery.” Sam can see the place where he came out of the woods last night ahead of them, the still present ache in his back and shoulders more than enough reminder of how hard this is going to be. Suddenly, Dean stops, standing very still. Sam stops as well, seeing the tension in his brother’ back. He listens for whatever Dean must have heard but he hears nothing. He is about to ask the older man why he stopped when there is a sudden flash of movement in the trees to their right.

Before Sam can let out a warning, the Myling is on Dean’s back, gripping his shoulders with its sharp claws. His brother gasps and his knees bend under the weight of the creature, his eyes shut against what Sam knows is a vision of the cemetery. He struggles to stand in place, a foot or so behind his brother as Dean takes a first step toward the clearing full of gravestones. Sam steels himself and follows along behind his brother, wincing with each step as the memory of the creature’s painful claws in his shoulders fills his mind. He hates not being able to keep the monster from hurting his brother, hates watching as Dean struggles under the weight and the overpowering desire to get to the graveyard.

Sam notices Dean’s feet begin to sink into the ground with each step, leaving a line of footprints behind him. Several yards later the older hunter begins dragging his feet, each movement scraping away inches of dirt. The younger man wants so badly to take the burden from his brother but he knows he has to wait until the last possible moment to intervene, otherwise they will never make it to the cemetery.

Now, Dean’s progress is torturously slow. Each step is accompanied by a pained grunt as his feet drag away at the ground. If the hunter pauses for a moment, or even slows his steps, the Myling digs its claws deeper into Dean’s shoulders.

Sam is starting to see a break in the trees ahead and finally, he can’t take it anymore. The younger hunter steps up right behind his brother and grabs the creature, pulling at it. Dean stops, breathing heavily and his feet begin to sink into the ground. The Myling gives an angry screech, pulling its claws from Dean’s shoulders, but before it can begin to tear at him Sam stabs it with his angel blade. The creature screeches again and leaps at Sam, exactly as he hoped it would. Dean falls to his knees, panting, but Sam doesn’t have time to check on him before his vision is again filled with images of the cemetery. This time, his will matches what the creature wants from him and he begins to walk purposefully toward the graveyard. The Myling is already heavier than it was when it ran off last night but somehow that only serves to encourage Sam. They must be close to the cemetery. If he can just keep walking.

The ruins of an old church are beginning to peek through the trees when Sam feels like his back will break any minute under the pressure the Myling is putting on it. His already injured shoulders are on fire where the monster is again digging its claws into his flesh. The hunter is beginning to feel like he can’t take another step when there is a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. A dark shape leaps at him and he wonders what is attacking them now. Then the weight is gone from him shoulders. He falls to his knees and watches, vision blurred with exhaustion, as a giant, dark gray, creature grapples with the Myling. The creature hooks an enormous horn under the Myling which looks confused at this turn of events, but grabs onto its new victim’s dark hair. The black shape charges toward the cemetery as the Myling digs its claws into its neck.

Sam stumbles to his feet and follows after the creature on shaking legs. He is only a few yards behind the strange pair and he can see that even this giant creature is struggling under the weight of the Myling. He realizes then that he and Dean never stood a chance of making it to the cemetery with the Myling. If this creature hadn’t shown up they would both have died out here in these woods.

Despite the weakness in his legs Sam is able to catch up to the Myling and the dark creature as they cross into the cemetery. As it steps foot onto the hallowed ground, the giant animal shakes its head, trying to work the Myling loose. Sam’s vision is finally starting to clear when the Myling slides to the ground. As soon as its feet touch the ground of the graveyard, the surrounding forest erupts into a blinding white light. Through the painful brightness, Sam can see the shape of a child where the Myling stood before, smiling as it fades into the holy light.

Sam knows he should be concerned about the new creature. Just because it helped them get rid of the Myling doesn’t mean it won’t attack them next, but his legs finally give out on him as he blinks the spots out of his vision from the blinding light of the Myling crossing over.

The hunter’s eyes finally clear in time to see the creature turn to face him. He stares at the giant shape before him in shock. The creature is slender but its willowy limbs look strong. A long tail curls in the air behind it. It is clearly very old and at some point one of the powerful horns on its head must have been broken. The eye on the same side is missing, replaced by a jagged scar. Its remaining eye has a strange, cat-like pupil that seems to look into his soul.

As the thought comes into his mind a memory also surfaces, of a hunt with his father and brother when he was only fourteen. The images are fuzzy, but Sam can remember this creature. Something had been killing hikers and the Winchesters went to investigate. He had gotten separated from his family and woke up in a cave, this same creature standing over him. Sam remembers how she gave him a bag of marshmallows. He also remembers the small skeleton that sat in the corner of the cave.

At that moment, Dean comes staggering into the cemetery, gun in one hand, angel blade in the other. He doesn’t look much better than Sam and when he sees this new creature standing over his brother he levels his gun at the threat. “Dean, wait!” Sam calls, terribly afraid of what will happen if his brother shoots this creature. The hunter realizes he is concerned both for his brother and the creature. Dean flicks his gave from the threat just long enough to give Sam a look that says, ‘Are you out of you mind?!’ Sam ignores him. “It’s okay. She isn’t dangerous. I know her.” His brother looks like he thinks the younger man might have been hit on the head but he lowers his weapon.

Before Dean can ask him what the hell he is talking about, Sam turns back to the creature. “Hello.” He murmurs, remembering that she can communicate.

The creature, who never stopped looking at Sam, doesn’t open her mouth but he can still hear her words all around him. Hello again, Samuel Winchester.

“I met you before.” Sam says, “I remember you, I remember that you told me something important but I don’t remember what it was.”

It is no longer of importance, Samuel. You did not need to hear what I had to say, and you did not need to remember it. But I needed to hear what you told me.

Sam tilts his head, confused. “What did I tell you, I can’t remember that either.”

The creature’s features change into what could almost be considered a smile. Yes, I did not expect you to. It was not something you told me with words, but with actions.

“Actions?” Sam asks, “I don’t under-“

“I don’t understand what either of you are talking about.” Dean interrupts, “Sam, what the hell?”

Sam finds it incredibly difficult to turn away from the creature’s gaze, but he answers his brother. “Remember that hunt when we were kids. Something was killing hikers but leaving their kids alive? Then I got separated,”

“And we found you in the thing’s lair. Yeah I remember.” Dean finishes. “The killings stopped and we never found the thing. Are you telling me this it? I thought you didn’t remember anything.”

“I didn’t.” Sam confirms. “Not until I saw her again, but this is her.”

Yes. The creature interjects and Sam turns back to her. That was a dark time. I truly apologize for any trouble I brought you, Dean Winchester. I was angry and confused. Dean looks shocked at the use of his name, his hand twitching on his weapon before relaxing again. I suppose I owe you two an explanation.

I was living in those woods with my child. He was a miracle, I am among the last of my kind and I never thought I would have offspring. He was also an adventurous little thing, always wandering off. One day, he ran into a group of humans. Hunters. Sam and Dean stiffen. Not your type, no these men just hunted for sport. Maybe he startled them, maybe they thought he was a strange deer. She pauses, looking sadly at Sam. I felt his fear, his pain, when they killed him. We were connected. I came as fast as I could, killed the men who had done it, and took his body back to our cave. But it was not enough.

I had been alone for so long and then I was not, I had this life that was mine to nurture and teach, my gift to the world. And what a gift he was. I couldn’t bear my loss and I was filled with a hatred for humans, all of them. Every time a group of them came near our cave I took out my rage on them, but I could never kill their children. No matter how deep my hatred for humans the children all reminded me of my son.

And then I met you, Samuel Winchester. Her eye is searching his soul again, but Sam does not shrink under her gaze as he expected to. He feels no judgement, only a deep admiration, maybe even love in her stare. Your soul called to me the minute you stepped into my woods. When you were separated from your family I could not leave you, I brought you to my cave.

Her words now seem to be directed only at Sam. I was mesmerized. I could see the deepest parts of you and I saw only goodness. At first I tried to tell myself that it was only because you were still a child, that you would be a monster someday, all humans were monsters. But I could see who you were, who you would become, and I could not argue with your soul. Your future stood before you, a painful thorny path, and yet no matter how I looked I still saw the light of goodness shining in you.

Sam feels her words stretch past him again. It was then that I knew I had been wrong. Not all humans were monsters, to think that made me just like the men who killed my child. I felt their sins heavy on my shoulders and I did not know how I would ever lift them. You showed me the answer to that, too, Samuel. So I guarded you until your family was close, and then I left. I swore to myself that I would only kill real monsters, those that harm children. I began my penance. I was hunting this creature, the Myling. But I think, in a way, I was also following you.

Sam and Dean look at each other. “Why?” Sam asks, after several moments of silence.

You have helped me. Now it is time I help you. I am on the trail of another monster, you know him. Arthur Ketch.

“Ketch?” Dean asks, shock clear on his face.

The creature brings her tail in front of her, May I? She asks, motioning toward Sam’s head. The younger Winchester nods, completely certain that she means him no harm. Her tail is soft and warm on his skin. The creature’s touch brings a feeling of safety.

A vision forms in his head. Unlike the Myling’s oppressive vision of the cemetery, this image feels somehow like a gift. Sam accepts it and is horrified by what he sees.

Magda, the girl he and Dean had saved months ago, gets off a bus. She goes into the restroom of the bus stop and is followed by a man. A man with a tattooed hand that Sam recognizes with a flare of anger. He gasps.

“What?” Dean asks. “What did she show you?”

“Magda.” Sam whispers. “Ketch, he-“

The creature finishes for him, turning to Dean. Do not trust those who claim to be your friends. They kill children. She turns to Sam. I believe this is a hunt that belongs to you. I give it to you, now Samuel Winchester. Sam nods, feeling anger and sadness swirling inside him.

“Where will you go now?” He asks her.

She looks at the sky, closing her one eye for a moment. I will go where I am needed. But I think I am almost done. I have you to thank for that, Samuel. I have paid the debt I owe to you in the only way I know how. Again, her words are private, and Sam can feel them reaching places deep inside of him. We may not meet again but our souls are connected now. I am honored to have been saved by you, Sam Winchester.

Sam responds to her, not with words but with thought. And I by you.

She reaches out and touches his head again, then Dean’s. Sam’s exhausted limbs are filled with a new strength and the ache in his shoulders fades away. He sees Dean stand straighter. Then the creature turns and walks into the trees, her dark coat disappearing through the underbrush.

Dean turns to his brother. “What did she say to you?” He asks.

Sam thinks for a moment before answering, “Something I needed to hear.” The hunter realizes that there are tears on his cheeks. He doesn’t wipe them away.

~*~*~*~

The brothers are both exhausted by the time they make it back to the bunker. Dean heads straight to bed and, as much as Sam wants to sleep, he feels like he can’t just yet, anger at Magda’s unnecessary death filling his veins. So he goes into the library planning to do some research on Nephilim until he can’t stay awake anymore.

Sam stands in front of the bookshelf, looking for the tome on angelic creatures he knows is there somewhere, but another book catches his eye. It seems to call to him and Sam pulls it from the shelf to examine it. The spine is marked with fading letters, Natural History, Vol. 8 Pliny the Elder. Sam moves to the table, eyes not shifting from the book. He sits, opens to a random page that somehow doesn’t feel completely random, and reads.

‘Among the same people is also found the animal called the Yale, the size of a hippopotamus, with an elephant’s tail, of black or dark brown in color, with the jaws of a boar and horns more than a cubit in length capable of being moved and which in a fight are raised alternately and presented to the attack or sloped backward in turn as opportunity requires.’

Sam sets the book aside, pulling his laptop from the duffle at his feet. He boots it up and types, ‘yale mythical creature’, into the search engine, scrolling down and clicking on a link.

‘For two centuries following Pliny’s account, the Yale received little mention, but then it began to appear with increasing regularity in bestiaries and other accounts, eventually finding a place in medieval heraldry. It first appeared in the heraldry of Henry IV’s younger son John, and gradually was put to use elsewhere. In the 15th and 16th century, many prominent individuals with ties to the royal family incorporated the Yale into their heraldry, after which it passed once more into relative obscurity. Because of its prowess in battle, the Yale came to symbolize “proud defense” in medieval heraldry.’

He smiles to himself, closing his laptop and the book and walking to his room, an idea forming in his mind.

~*~*~*~

After hours of working, Sam opens his door and stands in the hallway, the small wooden shield he had found in one hand, a screwdriver in the other. He stares at his door for a moment, then nods.

It only takes him a minute to unscrew the Men of Letters symbol that is hung on his door and another minute to replace it with the shield. When he is done, Sam steps back and admires his work. He examines the Yale he painted on the wood. All the images he had found on the internet showed the creature with one horn forward and the other back. His Yale only has one horn that faces forward, leaving what is behind it alone. Sam smiles, going into his room and finally feeling like he can sleep.

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#asksamcontest #asksamstuff #fanfiction #my stuff #my fic #spn fic #fic #writing #supernatural #season 12 #12.16 #12x16 #ladies drink free #sam winchester #dean winchester #child death #hurt!sam #hurt!dean

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ladystylestores · 5 years ago

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‘I Can’t Turn My Brain Off’: PTSD and Burnout Threaten Medical Workers

The coronavirus patient, a 75-year-old man, was dying. No family member was allowed in the room with him, only a young nurse.

In full protective gear, she dimmed the lights and put on quiet music. She freshened his pillows, dabbed his lips with moistened swabs, held his hand, spoke softly to him. He wasn’t even her patient, but everyone else was slammed.

Finally, she held an iPad close to him, so he could see the face and hear the voice of a grief-stricken relative Skyping from the hospital corridor.

After the man died, the nurse found a secluded hallway, and wept.

A few days later, she shared her anguish in a private Facebook message to Dr. Heather Farley, who directs a comprehensive staff-support program at Christiana Hospital in Newark, Del. “I’m not the kind of nurse that can act like I’m fine and that something sad didn’t just happen,” she wrote.

Medical workers like the young nurse have been celebrated as heroes for their commitment to treating desperately ill coronavirus patients. But the heroes are hurting, badly. Even as applause to honor them swells nightly from city windows, and cookies and thank-you notes arrive at hospitals, the doctors, nurses and emergency responders on the front lines of a pandemic they cannot control are battling a crushing sense of inadequacy and anxiety.

Every day they become more susceptible to post-traumatic stress, mental health experts say. And their psychological struggles could impede their ability to keep working with the intensity and focus their jobs require.

Although the causes for the suicides last month of Dr. Lorna M. Breen, the medical director of the emergency department at NewYork-Presbyterian Allen Hospital, and John Mondello, a rookie New York emergency medical technician, are unknown, the tragedies served as a devastating wake-up call about the mental health of medical workers. Even before the coronavirus pandemic, their professions were pockmarked with burnout and even suicide.

On Wednesday, the World Health Organization issued a report about the pandemic’s impact on mental health, highlighting health care workers as vulnerable. Recent studies of medical workers in China, Canada and Italy who treated Covid-19 patients found soaring rates of anxiety, depression and insomnia.

To address the ballooning problem, therapists who specialize in treating trauma are offering free sessions to medical workers and emergency responders nationwide. New York City has joined with the Defense Department to train 1,000 counselors to address the combat-like stress. Rutgers Health/RWJ Barnabas Health, a New Jersey system, just adopted a “Check You, Check Two” initiative, urging staff to attend to their own needs and touch base with two colleagues daily.

“Physicians are often very self-reliant and may not easily ask for help. In this time of crisis, with high workload and many uncertainties, this trait can add to the load that they carry internally,” said Dr. Chantal Brazeau, a psychiatrist at the Rutgers New Jersey Medical School.

Even when new Covid-19 cases and deaths begin to ebb, as they have in some places, mental health experts say the psychological pain of medical workers is likely to continue and even worsen.

“As the pandemic intensity seems to fade, so does the adrenaline. What’s left are the emotions of dealing with the trauma and stress of the many patients we cared for,” said Dr. Mark Rosenberg, the chairman of the emergency department at St. Joseph’s Health in Paterson, N.J. “There is a wave of depression, letdown, true PTSD and a feeling of not caring anymore that is coming.”

____

Screw all of you now I see exactly why the only thing left to do is suicide. — a Facebook post by a St. Louis paramedic in April

After Kurt Becker, a paramedic firefighter in St. Louis County saw that post, which included a profanity-laced screed of frustration and despair over the job, he sent a copy to the man’s therapist with a note saying, “You need to check this out.”

“I’m reading this, and I’m ticking off each comment with, ‘stress marker,’ ‘stress marker,’ ‘stress marker,’ ” said Mr. Becker, who manages a 300-person union district. (The writer is in treatment and gave permission for the post to be quoted.)

The paramedics are part of a “warrior culture,” Mr. Becker said, which sees itself as a tough, invulnerable caste. Asking for help, admitting fear, is not part of their self-image.

Mr. Becker, 48, is himself the grandson of a bomber pilot and son of a Vietnam veteran. But his local has been hit by a dozen suicides since 2004, and he has become an advocate for the mental health of its members. To maintain his equilibrium, he works out and sees a therapist.

“The virus scares the hell out of our guys,” he said. “And now, when they go home to decompress, instead, they and their spouses are home schooling. The spouse has lost a job, and is at wit’s end. The kids are screaming. Let me tell you: The tension level in the crews is through the roof.”

Many besieged health care workers are exhibiting what Alynn Schmitt McManus, a St. Louis-based clinical social worker, calls “betrayal trauma.”

“They feel overwhelmed and abandoned” by fire chiefs who, she said, rarely acknowledge the newly relentless demands of the job.

Many paramedics, she added, are “aggressive and depressed. They are so committed to the work, they are such good human beings, but they feel so compromised now.”

Brendan, who asked for his last name to be withheld to protect his privacy, is a 24-year-old paramedic firefighter who works 48-hour shifts on the tough north side of St. Louis. His unit has been so busy running calls that he goes for long stretches without showering, eating or sleeping. He is terrified he might infect his fiancée and their daughter.

“We got a letter from our chief saying that there’s a national shortage of gloves, gowns, masks and goggles because the public is taking them,” he said. “Then we walk into Walmart and see that 90 percent of the people have better masks than we do.”

With no end in sight to the crisis, Brendan sought out a therapist.

“We are a lot quicker to be angry with each other,” he said. “Any little thing sends us over the edge. But among the older guys in their late 30s and 40s, it’s not OK to talk about things. So all anyone talks about is alcohol.”

____

“They were coming in very sick and deteriorating so fast. I was carrying a lot inside me, and I was very sad when I came home. I was feeling like I wasn’t doing a good job. My mother-in-law is a nurse, and she saw I needed help so she connected me with a therapist.” — Kristina, a nurse at Long Island Jewish Medical Center in Queens

Therapists around the country, many affiliated with the Trauma Recovery Network, which includes a large New York team, have been lining up to offer free treatment to medical workers. But the number of requests for help has been modest.

“People are nervous that if they pause to get treatment, they’ll crash, ”said Karen Alter-Reid, a psychologist and the founder of the Fairfield County Trauma Response Team in Connecticut, who has treated disaster-relief workers at school shootings and hurricanes.

The reasons to offer front-line workers specialized trauma therapy now are both to forestall destructive symptoms from settling in long-term, and to patch up depleted people so they can keep doing their jobs with the intensity demanded of them.

Since mid-March, Dr. Alter-Reid’s group has been treating dozens of emergency medical technicians, doctors and nurses. What distinguishes this pandemic as a traumatic experience, she said, is that no one knows when it will end, which protracts anxiety.

Medical teams, she noted, keenly miss the familial, visceral contact. They are used to hugs, backslaps, and sharing beers after a rough shift. Now, safety strictures have shut all that down.

Through Zoom group therapy, the crews have been regaining some semblance of solidarity as they unburden with each other, unmasked, through a computer screen, hearing everyone talk about similar struggles: Living away from families, to keep them safe. The smell of disinfectant in their clothes and hair. The clumsy haz-mat gear.

As they tap, which can sound like group drumming, she asks them to recall a challenging case when they each prevailed, and to share it.

Through these sessions, she tries to help them subdue memories of fear, failure and death so they can summon their innate resilience: Remember what you can do.

____

I have nightmares that I won’t have my P.P.E. I worry about my patients, my co-workers, my family, myself. I can’t turn my brain off. — Christina Burke, an I.C.U. nurse at Christiana Hospital, Newark, Del.

A nagging detail sticks in Christina Burke’s mind like a burr. Not only is hers the last face that patients see before they die, but because of her mandatory mask, all they glimpse are her eyes.

Her identity as a compassionate nurse feels diminished. She longs to lift up her mask and reveal her full self to patients.

At 24, Ms. Burke has already worked in an intensive care unit for three years. She has loved the connections she made with patients and their families, but those experiences are now largely gone.

“I can’t imagine one of my relatives on their last breath with a stranger,” said Ms. Burke, who is close to her own family but hasn’t been able to visit them for two months.

One recent day, overcome with sleeplessness and despondency, she contacted Bridget Ryan, a member of the hospital’s peer support program. In Ms. Ryan’s office, she tearfully unloaded.

A March study in JAMA Psychiatry looked at the psychological impact of the epidemic on health care workers in 34 Chinese hospitals, reporting that nurses, especially women, carried the heaviest burdens. They had elevated rates of anxiety, depression and insomnia.

The prevalence of burnout and suicide among medical professionals has been widely studied. As the pandemic invaded the West Coast earlier this year, Stanford psychologists gathered focus groups in their medical system to explore how to shore up mental health.

Researchers flagged workers’ limited capacity to manage Covid-19; their fears of contaminating family members; the moral code-bending decisions about when to use limited, life-saving resources. But much distress could be headed off if hospital leadership created a proactive, supportive culture that included ways for workers to express concerns and feel heard, the researchers wrote in JAMA.

ChristianaCare, a four-state health system, began assembling such a protocol five years ago. The program provides group support and daily inspirational texts. Twice a week, doctors and staff meet senior leaders. It set up designated “oasis” rooms, outfitted with low lights, massage chairs and meditation materials, where stressed workers take a breather.

“We’re trying to provide them with psychological first aid,” said Dr. Farley, an emergency medicine physician who directs ChristianaCare’s Center for WorkLife Wellbeing.

Peer counselors are quickly available. “No one else understands what we’re going through,” Ms. Burke, the I.C.U. nurse, said. “It doesn’t sound like much, but that program has changed the world for us.”

At the end of her meeting with Ms. Ryan, the two women, both in surgical masks, shared a social-distance-defying hug. Ms. Burke said she emerged refreshed. For the first time in two months, she slept through the night.

To address safety fears, ChristianaCare offers disposable scrubs, which workers tear off at the end of a shift. It also has a gratitude program, in which former patients return to thank their healers. At a time when so many Covid-19 patients are dying, such exchanges, said Dr. Farley, reconnect demoralized staff to “why we do what we do.”

Dr. Farley and her team check on hospital crews, pushing carts loaded with hand lotion, anti-fog lens cleaner, protein bars, chocolate and solace.

Every time, Dr. Farley said, “There is someone crying with me, and it’s 3 a.m. They’re exhausted. They need this.”

____

I see all these people coming in to the hospital now who are really sick, and I’m wondering, could this be me one day? There are a lot of unknowns. And the anxiety is amplified, knowing what happened in my household. — Dr. Andrew Cohen, an emergency medicine physician at St. Joseph’s University Medical Center, Paterson, N.J.

When Dr. Andrew Cohen, 45, is working his shift at the hospital’s emergency department, he is fine. He has the thick emotional skin characteristic of his high-octane profession. He dons his gear, turns his adrenaline up to a quiet, steady hum and focuses on saving lives.

But hours before the shift starts, he becomes foggy, anxious, hesitant. And as soon as it ends, he performs a cleansing ritual that even he labels “over the top.” That is because he has discovered, in a brutal manner, that he cannot leave the job behind.

For nearly a decade, Dr. Cohen and his wife shared their home with her parents, a practicing pulmonologist and a retired nurse, who often babysat for the Cohens’ children, now 8 and 11. But in March, both in-laws became ill with Covid-19 and were admitted to the hospital within a day of each other.

Dr. Cohen’s mother-in-law, Sharon Sakowitz, 74, died first.

On the day of her funeral, the hospital called the Cohens: now the father-in-law’s organs were shutting down. The Cohens rushed to the hospital. Dr. Barry Sakowitz, 75, died that morning. A few hours later, they buried Mrs. Sakowitz.

Still mourning, Dr. Cohen wonders, “Did I bring this virus into my house?” As he prepares to go to work, “My son says, ‘Daddy, be very, very careful,’ and I know what he’s thinking.”

The guilt threatens to swamp him. What if he is the third person in this household to die?

After the shift, Dr. Cohen photocopies his notes, so there’s no risk he leaves with paper that might have coronavirus on it. He cleans his stethoscope, pens, goggles, face shield and the bottom of his sneakers with antimicrobial wipes. He does a surgical hand wash, up to his elbows.

He changes into a clean set of scrubs, putting the dirty ones in a plastic bag, and walks through the hospital parking lot. Sitting in his car, he sprays the bottom of his shoes with Lysol.

At home, he removes his sneakers and scrubs, leaving them in a box in the garage, and heads to the shower. Only after will he allow himself to embrace his family.

How long will Dr. Cohen march through this meticulous ritual? When will fear loosen its grip?

“We’ve always been told to suck it up and move on,” he said. He wonders: When his own emotional crash comes, when colleagues start unraveling, “Will there be people there to help us?”

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