#SO bad actually. went 'i should get a little bible to carry around' as i was writing that last tag no you SHOULDN'T

[vulpinesaint]

i'm gonna start wearing catholic iconography for real. i'm gonna start being really insane about catholicism in my day to day life. noooooo you don't understand i mean it for Real this time i've been extremely normal about it so far

[just-a-sleepy-idiot]

Valak Imagine: Him seeing you for the first time

Content/Warnings: Nun!Reader, Female!Reader, Blaspemic stuff since it's written out of a demons perspective after all, Based of the movie 'The Nun', Major Spoilers for the Nun!!, Kinda soft Valak

He had paced these holy halls so many times, disguised to sow fear in the nuns that lived here- showing them that evil was among them looking like one of their own. He mocked them with this form, and soon enough death had grasped all of them, all up to one last woman.

Valak wished to take over one of their bodies, but he couldn't deny the satisfaction when the last one chose to commit one of the worst sins the Bible knew, taking her life rather than letting him take over her mortal existence. He thought it was quite funny, to see one of gods devote believers choosing to do this to oppose a demon. He wondered which outcome would have taken on worse judgement- taking her own life or letting her precious little body get taken over by a demon?

He already waited, yearned for others to come which they eventually would. Toying with their sanity and their beliefs, he already felt the arrival of two devote believers coming close.

Eventually you were here- first a priest, and Valak could look deep into his heart and see his guilt haunting him, guilt that the demon would use to torment him later on- this priest and you.

You were wearing a dress, but you might as well have worn the white robes because you emitted something.. pure. No human was ever fully pure, not like they wanted to be, and you too had your yearnings and troubles of course but he saw purity because you were fully aware of them and faced yourself with clarity and judgement.

You weren't a blind follower of the book, driven by blindness, guilt or foolishness.

Valak huffed in contempt, instantly feeling how the opposing nature of his origin and your devotion was stirring up inside of him. Like magnets, wanting to draw each other away.

You stayed now for two nights, and he had already begun playing his schemes with the priest but you.. he still only.. watched. He still only observed you, and he wasn't sure why he was so hesitant.

You were only a mortal after all, you would tremble at the mere sight of him. He felt no fear, so maybe it was.. curiosity?

His demonic nature longed to corrupt you, to teach you fear and see you scream like the other nuns. He was the defiler, the profane, the Marquie of snakes. He wanted to mock and corrupt and watch the ones who serve god crumble in their beliefs.

So why did he keep his distance with you?

A few days went by, and both you and the priest slowly begun to understand what had happened here and how it was tied to the evil that was roaming this place.

Valak had shown you images of the nuns that lived here, and you were believing everything as if it was actually happening. He watched you interact with your environment and with the shadows of the ones that were gone already.

And one day he decided to show himself. Looking like the nun he chose to torment the others with but a little.. softer, a little bit more disarming. With features that he guessed would invoke trust from humans.

When he approached you, you felt someone looking at you without hearing a single step. When you turned around, you were met with green eyes and looked up to a tall nun. There was something strangely.. intense about her, yet you had a feeling like you could feel safe despite of that.

"How do you like it here so far?" How long has it been since he had used words of the human world..

"I like it a lot. I've been treated very well here, the only thing that worries me is the wellbeing of Father Burke. He had horrifying things happening to him."

Valak suppressed a smile, yes he did indeed. "I see."

He continued on talking to you, spying on what it was that a nun like you was thinking by conversing with you.

"Have you been taught about demons, Sister Y/n?"

This question.. had something off-putting, as if you felt like despite her calm and cool expression she was very interested in whatever you might say next.

"Of course, Sister Val." You fumbled with your hands, "Although none of my fellow sisters ever seemed to really take matters of evil very seriously." They concentrated so much on the good that they didn't seem to take the bad forces in the world seriously. They felt too secure.

Valak knew how easily everyone wanted to forget what was waiting outside of their churches, their holy little homes that they felt so safe in. "And what do you think of them?"

You looked up into the green eyes of the tall woman, frowning at that question. No one ever asked about.. an opinion of these things, because it was taught that everything unholy like the creatures of hell were bad and there was no other way to see them.

"The forces of god as well as those of evil are constantly opposing each other. They are bad, they are destructive and against every living being." Your gaze dropped, "But.. I think that is part of the balance, the way it naturally has to be. Of course we have to fight evil, but I don't think just like evil neither does good is supposed to win. And therefore demons are.. just like us," you looked up again and smiled shyly, "something like soldiers?"

Valak stared at you without saying a word.

Just like them?! No, no you were just a mortal, just a flesh puppet. He was above the pity skills of gods creation! There was no way you were alike.

How strange it was to be thinking that while he literally looked like one of them, using the human tongue to communicate and observing this woman instead of following the unholy urges of destruction that were given to his very existence.

And suddenly, you were pressed against the wall, held high up by the nun who's expression now cruelly turned into something demonic. You gasped, unable to look away as he growled darkly at you. He was done playing, he should just snap your neck right there.

But.. he didn't- he couldn't! The demon growled in frustration, harshly pressing you against the wall even more before suddenly letting you go.

"Your foolish beliefs will not earn his favor, little one. You should go back to blindly being his devoted sheep."

You hurried to stand up again, leaning against the wall for stability after your fall with rapid breathing. The green eyes now begun to glow, almost like gold, and Valak loomed over you.

"Leave, leave and send someone as blind as the others, you are not amusing anymore."

You begun to run, candles lit along your way and blew out after you passed. You looked back as you sprinted through the stone corridor and saw the outline of a horned figure watching you go.

You were carrying a forbidden truth with you, something that he did not wish to defy. He wanted you to live, he wanted this truth to blossom within you. Maybe it would corrupt you.. but maybe it would make you even surpass all the others.

Valak would find a way to cross paths with you again.

- - -

I hope you liked it! If you are offended by the religious stuff please know that this is based off a movie and what is written in here is fiction and not a reflection of my actual beliefs so pls don't rage in my comments

[sinner-as-saint]

You Know Just What I Need.

Head of Security!Reader x Bucky Barnes AU.

Run-through: Freshly out of uni, Bucky Barnes comes back to live in his family home. Given he’s the only son of a billionaire, he needs security around at all times. And his dad puts you in charge of his son’s safety until he comes home from a business trip. You intend on doing your job as perfectly as always, but what you didn’t know it that Bucky is a spoilt brat who is only interested in pestering you and making your life a living hell… until eventually you are left with no other choice but to teach him a lesson in order for him to learn how to behave.

Themes: spoilt brat!Bucky, smut, fluff, slight dom!reader,

a/n: I was re-reading my bodyguard!stucky au the other day and I thought, what if the roles were reversed…? Enjoy!

“He’s here.”

One of the guards spoke through the comms, signaling you that Bucky Barnes was here. You were in the monitor room upstairs, watching over all the live footage of security cameras placed around the Barnes’ property. You observed the one at the gate and watched how the expensive car made its way through the gates.

He’s here.

You walked out of the room and made your way downstairs, on your way to meet your boss’ only son. You were the head of security, working for Mr. Barnes. You led an entire team who helped you in directing the rest of the staff employed by Barnes. Whenever your boss was away – which was always – every decision regarding the properties and companies went through you first.

Security processes, new policies, and most financial decisions, legal or illegal transactions – basically everything needed your seal of approval when the boss was away. You and Mr. Barnes had a comfortable bond since day one, he trusted you immensely, which is why you had been handed over the responsibility of taking care of his son, Bucky, until the latter’s father comes back from a business trip.

Basically the son was your responsibility for the coming weeks. Rumor had it that the young man was a nightmare; the complete opposite of his father. Since your job allowed it, you stalked him on his many social media platforms as soon as you received the phone call from your boss, just to get an insight of what you were getting into. You spent hours scrolling through the many pictures Bucky posts all the time. And so far, you gathered that he was; a brat, a party animal, spends his father’s money like it’s no one’s business on expensive cars and clothing. He enjoyed the finer things in life.

Oh well, you thought to yourself, this one is going to be quite a handful. Besides, rich kids hate security anyways.

 You got downstairs and found some of the guards standing at the foyer, you joined them and they all gave you courteous nods. You noticed how they all stopped slouching as soon as you approached them, they stood straight. You smirked a little. Your job did require you to be somewhat intimidating and controlling, but you liked it. You quite enjoyed the power which came along the job.

In less than a minute, he finally walked through the doors; the one and only – Bucky. He entered the house with a gait which radiated arrogance. You refrained from rolling your eyes at him and his almost visible cockiness. But, you expected no less.

Dressed in all black, leather jacket and boots; you had to admit he was an attractive young man.

“Well, well, there’s nothing better than coming home after 5 years and being welcomed by a group of guards!” he sassed, looking at the guys. And you saw how he did a double take when he saw you. He did that thing that most men do when they see you for the first time; stare.

Perfect hair, minimal makeup, bold red lip, high heels for the aesthetics and wearing a tailored black suit with a white button down shirt – you looked great and you knew it. So you let him stare, just like you let all of them stare. Only not many men approached you, most of them were intimidated.

But Bucky wasn’t one of those, no. Bucky was shameless, and cocky and confident. He walked right up to you, eyed you up and down and smirked.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked, surprising you a little. But surprising the rest of the guards even more. They all turned their heads in sync to look at the exchange between you and Bucky. Because no one ever dared to talk to you like that before.

You smirked and tilted your head up just a little, looked Bucky right in the eyes. “Y/N. Head of security. My team and I were appointed by your father to keep you away from trouble until he gets back home. Because you’re unable to do so on your own despite being a grown man.” You answered with a straight face and nothing but sarcasm lacing your words.

Bucky was a little taken aback, usually women melt under his stare – but not you. He heard a chuckle or two come from the group of guards who stood nearby and he felt a little, just a little intimidated. But he liked that. You were fiery, and he was digging it. “Anything else, Mr. Barnes?” you asked again, breaking his little reverie.

He shook his head. “No.” he still had that damn smirk on his face.

You faked smiled at him. “Very well then, Wilson will show you to your room. He and Quill will be your bodyguards for the days to come.” You briefly explained, and pointed to Sam and Peter.

Bucky spared them a dirty look and by the time he looked back at you, you began walking away. “Hey, wait!” he called out after you. You stopped and turned around, refraining from rolling your eyes again. Bucky smirked, and walked over to you again.

“Why can’t you be my bodyguard? You seem badass enough for that. Besides, we could really have a lot of fun together you and I.” he finished with a wink.

You flashed him another faint, fake smile. “Mr. Barnes, you should know that I have a lot more important things that require my attention. My team needs me to help run your father’s company while he’s away. I can’t possibly do that and babysit you at the same time.” You leaned in just a little and whispered the last sentence just so the guys won’t hear you.

Bucky chuckled as you stared at him for another second before turning around, leaving him behind again. And oh did he enjoy watching you walk away. He had never had any woman be so uninterested in him before. So this was very new to him. And he was intrigued.

 Like you said, his two bodyguards showed him to his room where he spent the rest of the day. He thought of you, shamelessly, while he showered. Self-abusing himself under the warm water as he thought of your bold personality, and those irresistible eyes of yours… and your red lips, and your body… and the way you carried yourself, confidence and power surrounding you. He had only met you hours ago, but he wanted you. Bad.

He made a mental note to pester you and annoy you until you finally give in. because he was Bucky Barnes, whatever he wanted he got. And right now there was nothing more he wanted than you. Bucky didn’t know exactly where or how this would go, but one thing he knew for sure – he had to have you.

---

The next two days were absolutely terrible. Actually, the days were fine; it’s Bucky who made them terrible.

It started out when your boss called you, asking you if you could stay under the same roof as his son. For the latter’s safety and well-being, because there was no one else he trusted around his son more than you. Not having the heart to say no to the old man, you agreed.

Bucky was excited when he heard this decision made by his father. And suddenly, all of his shirts went missing. He paraded around with just his sweatpants on, purposely entering and leaving the room which you were in several times just to get your attention.

Sure it was annoying, but you couldn’t complain much; he was fit. Now you knew why he had so many girls around him all the time on all of his social media posts. The guy was hot!

He annoyed you even more by constantly flirting with you, without hesitation. Or he would do this thing where he would purposely walk by you, and make sure his body brushes against yours each time. But you worked for his dad so there was nothing you could do or say. However no matter what he did, he was never disrespectful.

He even tried to have your number, to which you denied at first. Then he thought he blackmailed you by saying what if he gets in trouble one day and how he should have it just in case. And you rolled your eyes and gave him your number just so he would shut up.

But he didn’t.

Given you had to live with him, you settled in one of the many guest bedrooms. You chose the one on the ground floor, trying to be as far away from Bucky’s room as possible. But still, he annoyed you all through the night by texting you incessantly. And it was always cheesy texts which made you question how is he a 25 year old adult;

‘I can’t sleep. Come cuddle me?’

‘I know you’re awake. Are you possibly thinking about me? ;)’

‘I would sleep better with you here with me yk’

‘I’m all alone… in my bed… thinking of you… with my hand wrapped around my big… Bible because I pray to God that one of these days you respond to my messages jfc’

 You would never respond to any of his messages. You would just laugh and turn your phone on silent each night before going to bed.

It’s alright, you told yourself, I can keep him safe and ignore him at the same time, right?

 Wrong.

A few days later, Bucky received an invite to a prestigious party being held in the city by one of his father’s closest friend and long-time business ally. And given his dad wasn’t here, Bucky was the one who would have to go in his place, he couldn’t possibly miss it.

But there was a problem – Bucky needed a date.

 “Absolutely not.” You denied him right when he came into the study room, where you were dealing with paperwork, asking you to be his date for the party tomorrow.

He sighed dramatically. “Why not? If you go as my date, you could keep an eye on me as well.” He approached you by the book shelf and stood a little too close. He leaned in and whispered, “Because I tend to misbehave a lot.” He breathed in your ear in his deep, velvety voice.

And you felt a tingle dance down your spine when he whispered in your ear, but you convinced yourself it was nothing.

You thought over it. His dad had specifically asked not to let him go anywhere on his own. Plus, you wouldn’t trust him on his own. Lately even Sam and Peter had been complaining that he could be unmanageable.

“Fine.” You agreed on going as his date to the party.

---

The lavish party was being held at an equally grand mansion.

You should have known it was a bad idea to come here as Bucky’s date. Because not only was he absolutely shameless and flirty, and annoying but this spoilt brat also took the liberty to tell everyone that you were his girlfriend before you could stop him or correct him.  

And soon, you two became the talk of the room; he noticed that the men gave him envious glares while you noticed that the ladies gave you envious glares.

“We look great together.” He whispered in your ear and proceeded to lean down and kiss your cheek and pulled you closer while the two of you were slow dancing, after he begged you to. And you had to keep fake smiling as you looked up at him with nothing but annoyance in your eyes.

You kept your hands around his shoulders while he smirked and placed one of his hand right on your butt. “Come on, admit it.” He said, full of cockiness.

You gently moved his hand from your ass to the side of your leg, where your thigh holster was, with a handgun in it. His smirk disappeared for a few moments as he felt the gun through your stunning evening gown and you smirked this time, looking up at him.

Just for show, you leaned in to kiss his cheek as well. “Try that again and I’ll shoot you and make it seem like an accident.” You whispered in his ear and pulled away to fake smile at him.

Bucky chuckled. “Can’t tell if you threatened me or turned me on even more, babe.” He whispered, winking at you and you rolled your eyes at him.

 You left the dimmed dance floor as soon as the song ended. And you went to grab your clutch and went to get a drink at the bar. You sipped on it lazily, then noticed that Bucky wasn’t by your side yet; annoying you like he had been all night. You turned around, expecting to find him near you somewhere. But you didn’t see him.

You panicked for a moment. But then your phone rang in your clutch. You answered it immediately once you saw that it was Bucky.

“Where the hell are you?” you whisper-yelled through the phone.

He chuckled. “Aww, miss me already? Can’t even leave you for a few minutes? Jesus, you’re so obsessed with me.” He sounded just as cocky as ever. And even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he had that damn smirk on his face right now.

You sighed, less worried now that you knew he was alright. “Bucky, where are you?” you asked, your tone serious.

“We have a problem.” He answered.

“We?”

“Well I do, but you’ll have to fix it. It’s bad.” He spoke again.

You sighed again. “Everyone here already thinks I’m dating you. What could be worse?”

He fake gasped over the phone. “Wow that hurt. Okay but seriously, I spilled my drink all over my shirt. I have another set of clothes in the car. I need your help, please.”

“Where are you?” you asked, clearly annoyed but you had no other choice but to help him.

“Upstairs’ library.”

You ended the call in his face and sighed again. You swallowed the rest of your champagne and asked one of the guards who came with you to go get Bucky’s clothes. You managed to hide from the crowd and get to him in less than a few minutes.

And there he was, standing in the middle of the spacious library. Shirtless, hands in his pockets. And with his signature smirk on.

“That was quick.” He sounded amazed, “Can’t away from me for long, can you babe?” he tilted his head to the side and gave you one of his famous smirks.

You rolled your eyes at him and handed him the shirt and tie on a hanger. “Seriously, get dressed.” You wouldn’t lie, you did check him for a few seconds because sure he was an annoyance, but he had a body to die for. Abs, Adonis belt, a sinful trail of hair starting from his lower stomach all the way down to-

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere, stare all you want.” He sounded cocky once he caught you checking him out. He leaned in closer, “I’m all yours.”

You sighed again, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh please. I don’t have time for young, immature boys.” You gave him another one of your fake smiles and turned around to leave. But he stopped you again.

You turned back around to face him as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “What?” you sounded like you were done with him.

He didn’t say anything, he just lifted the tie up to your face and gave you another idiotic but somewhat adorable grin.

Of course, you should’ve known he couldn’t tie his own tie. You wouldn’t even be surprised if he didn’t know how to knot his own shoelaces. You grabbed the black tie and walked up to him, throwing it around his neck and stepped up closer to tie it into a perfect knot. He stared at you the whole time.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” he pointed out, with a big smile on his pretty face.

You glared at him, then looked back down to focus on getting the knot right. And he spoke up again, “I said, you’re really pretty y-,”

You cut him off. “I heard you the first time. I’m seven years older than you, so quit it.” you clarified, thinking the age gap would be a turn off for him. But it was quite the contrary.

He smirked when he heard that you were older. “That’s hot.” He commented, and honestly you expected no less from him. You glared at him again and he casually wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him. So close that his lips almost touched yours.

You tried ignoring how your heart fluttered.

“I have a gun on me right now, I suggest you behave before I do something we both regret.” You spoke monotonously, as always and he just smirked.

“I get all tingly when you threaten me like that, babe.” He was incessant.

You abruptly tightened the tie way too much on purpose and his eyes widened for a second as he struggled to breathe for a moment. You pulled his face closer to yours by tugging on the tie. “Enough.” You whispered, looking him dead in the eyes and making it just a little uncomfortable for him to breathe.

You let go of him after a few seconds and walked away without another word said. And once again, he didn’t shut up when he should have. “You look even better when you’re walking away!” he called out after you and it took you all your willpower not to turn around and punch his perfect, chiseled face.

---

As you expected, Bucky didn’t give up trying to annoy you. Even days after the party, he wouldn’t stop following you around and annoying you at all times. But you had to put up with it, because you knew that the closer he is to you, the better you can watch over him. But oh God was he annoying.

He lazily walked over to the couch where you were sat at in the living room one afternoon. You were replying to some emails for work, and filling in Bucky’s dad at the same time. Of course, through text you made it seem like his son was perfect and well-behaved, when in reality… well, not so.

Bucky sighed dramatically, trying to get your attention but you purposely didn’t want to give him the satisfaction so you kept typing. He groaned and plopped down right next to you on the couch, and you didn’t have to turn your head to look at him to know that he was shirtless again, with that damn smirk on his pretty face.

“I’m bored.” He complained, whining like a child and he was sat so close to you that he was almost leaning on you. He casually placed his hand on your knee and you immediately slapped his hand away.

“Bucky, I’m working.” You said, using your ‘don’t disturb me’ voice. But he didn’t care. He never cared.

“But I’m bored.” He whined again, and took the liberty to just shut your laptop while you were clearly in the middle of some serious work. You didn’t want to waste energy on telling him off so you just closed your eyes, calmed yourself down and turned to face him finally.

He grinned like he won something. “Okay. What do you want?” you asked, keeping a polite face on so as not to give him one of your famous resting bitch faces.

He smirked. “You.” he answered with a wink and you rolled your eyes at him. And he quickly mumbled an apology that he didn’t mean and sat up straight. “Okay, let’s go out. I need to buy some stuff.”

You stared at him with a straight face, and sighed; agreeing. “Fine.” You stand up and walk towards your temporary bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I need to change.” You replied, without turning around.

He smirked to himself. “You don’t need to look extra pretty for me. I already like you quite a lot.” He didn’t get a reply this time, not even a glare. He just heard you sigh really loudly and slam the door of the bedroom shut really loudly. He chuckled to himself.

 He waited for you at the stairs by the front door. And he had his sunglasses on so you didn’t see the way his eyes widened when he saw you step outside in another outfit; a bit more casual than your usual suits.

Black, long-sleeved turtle neck with a grey colored pleated tennis skirt. You looked… hot.

“Staring is rude.” You sasses once you noticed he was indeed eyeing you up and down.

He smirked as you walked past him and got down the stairs, making your way to the car which was waiting for the two of you.

“Didn’t take you to be a skirt kinda girl. You’re more like a sexy suits and guns kinda girl. I mean, I love it.” he took the liberty to comment on your style.

You stopped right before you got into the driver’s seat and faced him with another fake smile. “Yeah well, it’s practical. You can’t see the handgun in my thigh holster, can you?” you smirked and got into the car.

Bucky took a few seconds to process everything. As if your appearance and you being out of his league wasn’t torture enough, now he had the image of you with a thigh holster permanently in his brain. And oh was that doing things to him. He didn’t even know he liked older, badass women until now.

Now, he was crushing on you harder than he intended to.

-

He was just as audacious and flirty in the car as always. He said he wanted to shop so you took him to the chic and expensive part of the city; where the rich kids usually go to spend mommy and daddy’s money.

Sam and Peter were in the car as well. Because Bucky was unpredictable, and you could always use more security guards around him given he was an absolute man-child. And to annoy you even further, as you walked beside him from store to store, he held your hand in his.

You would always let go of his hand, but he’d reach out to grab it again tighter each time and at some point you gave up and let him hold your hand. Again, you couldn’t have him wander off on his own so the closer he was to you, the better. Sam and Peter followed you two, trying to blend in as much as possible.

Bucky kept carelessly buying everything that fit his aesthetic; shoes, watches, jackets and everything else he didn’t bother checking the price tags of. And while he was being a difficult client, trying on everything and making a mess, you just stood there on your phone – occasionally looking at him and rolling your eyes at how extra he was.

“Do you really need that many shoes and watches?” you complained, stepping out of yet another store and already making your way to the other one. You were getting tired, and you weren’t a women who quite like shopping in general, so Bucky was just too much.

“Hey, don’t judge. I have a rep to maintain, besides I…” Bucky kept talking as you entered the next very expensive looking boutique, your hand still in his but you zoned out completely as you caught the stare of another pair of familiar blue eyes right upon stepping into the building.

Steve.

You were somewhat surprised upon seeing him so unexpectedly. But then again, it wasn’t too surprising because he was a man with expensive taste as well. You lingered around Bucky while he looked around, but all your attention was on Steve – who stared at you. Or maybe he was staring at Bucky more.

Eventually, Bucky grabbed a ton of clothes and went on try them; leaving you behind. Sam and Peter were right outside in the car, but that meant that you were alone inside the spacious store and there was nowhere for you to go as Steve began walking towards you. For a second you debated stepping out and joining Sam and Peter in the car while you waited for Bucky, but it was too late, Steve was too close by the time you thought of it.

You panicked, but you had perfected the calm and composed face so you put that on as he got closer and closer. You knew there was no way you could avoid him now.

“Y/N, hey.” He greeted you with a smile.

You returned him a fake one. “Steve, hello.” You kept your voice steady and monotonous, not letting your irritation and uncomfortableness show.

He stepped closer like he was an old friend, invading your personal space like it was nothing. Then again, he never cared much about you. “How come you’re here? You don’t even like shopping.” He pointed out, surprising you with how he still remembered that little detail about you.

You maintained the fake smile on your face and crossed your arms over your chest out of habit. “Yeah well, people change Steve.”

He chuckled dryly. “Is it that boy you came with? Did he bring about that change?” he asked, clearly jealous and bitter – like he always was.

You smirked. “That’s none of your business.” You were still calm but you could see it in his eyes; his anger slowly building up.

He scoffed. “What, you’re dating young boys now? He looks too young for you, seriously Y/N.” Steve commented, rudely and stepped closer to you – forcing you to take a small step backwards. “You need a man to take care of you, remember that.” he whispered, reaching out to twirl a lock of your with his fingers.

You didn’t know what to say to him, but luckily you heard Bucky’s voice speak up behind Steve.

 Bucky stepped out of the changing room with the piles of expensive jackets and sweaters he intended to buy and he stepped out with a grin, excited to see you roll your eyes at him. He enjoyed annoying you for some weird reasons. But his smiled morphed into a frown the moment he saw another man standing too close to you.

Bucky dumped all the clothes on the couch nearby and stared at the guy. Slightly long hair, facial hair, dressed in a sharp suit; the good looking bastard was talking to you, and Bucky didn’t like it. He approached the two of you, eavesdropping like it’s no one’s business.

“…You need a man to take care of you, remember that.” the guy said, while toying with a lock of your hair.

The audacity, Bucky thought to himself, I haven’t even touched her hair yet.

“She doesn’t need anybody. Now back the fuck away from my girl.” Bucky said out loud, not bothering about whether the workers heard or not. They probably did given they were most likely eavesdropping just like he was.

The guy turned around to face him. Bucky was ready to throw punches but the guy didn’t initiate anything so he kept his calm as well. But on the inside he was raging. He wondered why he was so bothered by some other man talking to you. Maybe, he liked you a lot more than he thought.

The guy scoffed and walked away without another word said, probably choosing not to make a scene. Once he left, Bucky looked at you with worry in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer to you. And surprisingly, unlike Steve’s proximity, you didn’t mind Bucky’s.

You nodded and refused to look him in the eyes. He understood and grabbed your hand and walked out of the building and into the car.

After an exchange of drivers, all of you made your way home. You were quiet, as always, focusing on the road. But Bucky was quiet as well, which was weird. You wanted to comment on it, but you decided not to. It wasn’t uncomfortable anyways.

A few minutes later, he spoke up.

“That was Rogers, wasn’t it? Dad’s business rival?” he asked, referring to Steve.

You nodded.

“Do you… Is he… how do you… I mean, he’s-,” Bucky struggled to find the right way to ask you about how you know Steve like that. So you cut off his rambling and answered the question he truly had.

“He’s my ex.” You said.

And then the silence was back for a few minutes. Sam and Peter pretended not to be in the car.

Bucky spoke up again, “May I ask why you broke up? It’s none of my-,”

You cut him off and answered again. You had nothing to hide, besides, Bucky sort of saved you back there. “He wanted me to quit my job, and stay at home and have his children. But I wanted to work and settle down later in life so… yeah.” you simplified it as much as you could for him.

He nodded slowly, before scoffing loudly. “Well what an ass! He doesn’t deserve you. Anyone worth being with you would be so fucking proud of what a badass woman you are. And how well you do your job and manage all of this all on your own. I mean, you’re beautiful as hell too and I-,”

You cut him off again, with a genuine smile and shaking your head at him. “Alright, alright enough buttering me up. What do you want?” you asked, smirking.

He gasped dramatically. “What? No, I meant what I said. You’re beautiful and amazing and badass.” He truly meant it. He hadn’t realized he admired you so much. He had never felt like this, so to lighten up the mood he added, “But since you’re asking, can I please go out with my friends tonight, alone?” as expected, he asked with an adorable face.

The kind you have problem saying no to. But you absolutely had to.

“No. Your dad strictly said no parties, no clubbing, no coming home drunk. You’re not in uni anymore, Bucky. When you’re dad gets back, you will join the business and someday, you’ll take over. You need to start acting responsible.” you repeated his dad’s words to him and he almost whined like the spoilt brat he is.

“But it’s not a party.” He argued. “I won’t get drunk.”

You turned to look at him briefly. “What is it then?”

“It’s a thing.” He replied. This man was seriously a 5 year old child.

“What thing?” you asked in your serious voice and he sulked.

“Just a thing.” He said, looking down at his lap. Just looking at him would tell you that he hadn’t heard ‘no’ a lot in his life.

“No. And stop sulking, you’re twenty five years old. Act like it.” you announced your final decision that he’s not allowed to leave the house alone. Definitely not for a party.

And you expected him to listen and not make things more difficult for you. But you should’ve known that Bucky wasn’t one to behave.

 ---

You woke up around 2 a.m. to countless messages, missed calls and emails. Your phone kept going off non-stop so you decided to check it. Some of the other members of the teams kept sending you screenshots of paparazzi pics of Bucky at some illegal car race taking place in the outskirts of the city.

And you were confused for a minute, because hours ago he said he was going to bed. You grabbed your phone tightly in your hand and jumped out of your bed, and ran upstairs. Your rapid footsteps on the stairs seemed to have caught Sam and Peter’s attention as well because they happened to be right behind you when you rushed into Bucky’s empty room.

He wasn’t here. He must’ve snuck out to go to a freaking car race!

“Why didn’t the alarm go off?” you turned to face the two guards and they looked at you sheepishly. Oh this was bad.

“He must’ve turned it off before leaving.” Peter answered, just as worried as you were. All of your jobs could be at stake here. But of course, the spoilt brat didn’t care about any of that.

“I don’t care what it takes but find him. And bring him home. I need to make a few calls and have these pictures taken down before his father finds out. Go, now!” you raised your voice a little and Sam and Peter rushed out of the room. And a few seconds later you heard two cars leaving the property.

Meanwhile, you were worried sick and angry and scared. You grabbed your phone and proceeded to disturb a lot of people who could help you take these pictures down before Mr. Barnes finds out.

You also made a mental note to have a talk with Bucky when he does eventually come back home. You would try not to lose your temper, but it seems like he needs to be given a lecture about all the things he’s not allowed to do. Disabling the alarm and sneaking out for example.

-

You promised you would keep your calm. And that you would talk to him without losing your temper. But the minute he walked into the house, at around 6 a.m., accompanied by Sam and Peter who somehow managed to find him at some beach and dragged him out of a party and now brought him home.

You saw the smirk on his clearly somewhat drunk face and your anger took over.

“Hi beautiful.” He said, smirking and then pointed to both guards, “You sent a search party, looks like you missed me.” He sassed.

And you couldn’t control yourself anymore. Your anger could be seen on your face as you marched towards him rapidly, and out of nowhere grabbed him by the collar threateningly. You were livid. And Sam and Peter chose to stay out of this one because oh boy, you weren’t one to mess with when you were angry.

“When the hell will you fucking learn, huh?” you yelled in his face.

He was still sobering up thanks to the coffee Sam got him but even he knew that he had messed up this time by the look on your face. He was surprised at how physical you were. Part of him knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help but feel a rush either. He was torn between scared of what your anger will entail, but also being turned on a little.

“Where the fuck have you been? Your dad specifically asked for you not to go out on your own because he has not been seeing eye-to-eye with a lot of people lately! And there is a lot more people than you think out there who could be after you just to hurt you and mess with your dad!” you yelled and Bucky was surprised.

He didn’t know this. Neither did Sam and Peter or the rest of the guys. Mr. Barnes trusted you immensely, so he told you some of his dark secrets. This was one of them, which is why he was so strict regarding the rules Bucky had to follow now that he was back home. And this revelation shocked everyone in the room.

You tugged on his collar a little more, and his body jerked forward a little and he was surprised at how physically strong you were. But he still didn’t say a word. “Do you know how many phone calls I had to make to take those pictures down and make sure your dad doesn’t find out? But you don’t care, do you?”

Bucky felt a pang of guilt at your words.

“You don’t care about anyone else but you! You are a spoilt, selfish brat! I know you’re not used to it, but at least try, damn it! Try and care about your dad’s reputation, about our jobs which involves taking care of your ungrateful, stuck up ass!”

He had never felt so guilty before, nor had anyone ever dared to point out his mistakes so vividly like you did just now. And you weren’t wrong, Bucky never cared about the consequences of his actions. Let alone about how his reckless habits could affect someone else.

“Disabling the alarm and sneaking out, look I don’t know who the fuck you think you are Bucky, but you sure as hell aren’t a kid anymore! Fucking act like an adult!” you yelled again.

He hadn’t thought, before sneaking out, that if anything bad does happen; you might lose your job. Not just you, but all the guards and everyone else in your team. And now he was ashamed.

With one last tug, you let go of his collar and panted, trying to control your breathing and anger. You stepped away and pressed the top of the bridge of your nose; already feeling a headache forming due to all the stress. You ran a hand over your face, sighing in relief that he was home but also in annoyance at how childish and careless he could be.

“Now go shower, get some sleep and sober up.” You looked up into his ocean blue eyes which showed nothing but guilt and shame, as they should. “And for fuck’s sake, stop making my life a living hell.” You spat bitterly and turned around to walk away.

You still had a lot to do and take care of today, and this day began with a rough start and you didn’t even get a good night of sleep. And it was barely even 7 a.m. yet, to say you were cranky would be an understatement.

-

You had extra work to do today, given Bucky’s previous rebellious actions. Along with the usual work load you had, which made today extra hectic and your mood was off as well. Your team had dealt with the paparazzi situation wonderfully. Mr. Barnes didn’t know a thing. But that didn’t mean that you were on speaking terms with Bucky.

You saw him less than usual throughout the day. Once in the kitchen, where you were making coffee and he dropped by to try and talk to you but he saw the look on your face and turned back around without saying a word. Then another time when you were in the living room, and he walked by without saying a word. The tension between the two of you was real.

He felt so guilty that it seemed like it was eating him alive. Plus, he hated how your mood was shitty all because of him. He wanted to apologize, but couldn’t. He didn’t know how to, because he never had to. But he knew he should. Because he messed up big time, driven by his arrogance and recklessness.

He hated how you were mad at him. He realized that these past weeks, the highlights of his days has been getting your attention and watch you roll your eyes at him, and replying to his sarcasm with even more sarcasm. Now his day just seemed dry and empty, and he wanted so badly to make things right.

You weren’t exactly ecstatic after yelling at him like that either. Usually your days consisted of shaking your head at Bucky’s silly messages and replying to none of them, or trying so hard not to laugh at his terrible jokes, and allowing him to hold your hand in his whenever you were out. You wouldn’t lie, you did miss his harmless mischief.

But he had to be told off. He was getting way out of hand.

 -

You turned in for the night earlier than usual, and right when you got out of the shower someone knocked on your bedroom door. Forgetting that you were in your bathrobe, you rushed to open the door thinking it might be one of the guards coming to tell you that Bucky had run off again.

But you were somewhat surprised when you found Bucky himself standing on the other side, scratching the back of his neck nervously. You didn’t say anything, you let him feel the awkward silence, and he deserved it. But then it got way too quiet so you spoke up.

“Don’t you own a shirt?” you asked, leaning against the door frame and eyeing his perfect body. He was shirtless again, what’s new.

Bucky tried so hard not to look at your cleavage, but he failed miserably. “I do. I just thought that if I look hot enough, you’d maybe forgive me quicker.” He voiced out his inner thoughts shamelessly.

You sighed. Guess he’ll never grow up, huh?

“Is this how you apologize after almost fucking up all of our lives and jeopardizing my job?” you asked, sarcastically in a monotonous tone for extra effect.

He sighed and looked down. Bad idea because now he got a good view of your legs peeking through the slit of the robe. He was once again, torn – debating between begging for your forgiveness or just say ‘fuck it’ and lean in for that kiss he’s been desperate for since he saw you.

He went with the latter.

Bucky barely gave you time to process anything as he gently pushed you inside the room, shut the door behind him, wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body closer to his as he placed his mouth on yours.

You were surprised, and you knew it was wrong, but you didn’t hate it. He kissed you feverishly, with ardor and passion and everything else he felt for you. He poured it all out through the kiss. Like he was coaxing you into forgiving him.

Bucky’s mouth moved perfectly with yours, his arms tightened their grip around your waist and your hands slid into his hair. You tugged on it gently as he started walking the two of you backwards, towards the bed.

He laid you down on the mattress and climbed on top of you, still not breaking the kiss. And you had to admit, he was a great kisser. He nibbled on your lower lip before pushing his tongue past your lips; gently stroking the top of your mouth while his hand slowly undid the knot at the front of your robe. Once it loosened enough, he reached out to grab your left breast; squeezing it and making you whine under him.

He smirked through the kiss. He had been waiting for this for way too long and now he finally had you. Bucky further unwrapped the robe from around your body and toyed with your breasts while he kissed you deeply. And when one of his hands started slowly making its way down your body and between your legs, that’s when you pulled away from the kiss and stared into his eyes; breathless from his kiss.

Bucky panicked. What if you pushed him off now? Or worse, what if he had angered you even more?

But instead, you smirked and pushed him down; flipping the two of you around so that now you straddled him. You settled comfortably around his waist, your robe barely covering your body but neither one of you cared. Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust.

You leaned down to gently brush your lips with his. His hands immediately rubbed up and down your sides lovingly. “You put me in a lot of trouble today, you know that?” you whispered, your lips brushing with his ever so gently with each word and his heart raced.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” he mumbled, reaching up to try and press his lips to yours, but you pulled away really quickly.

“Sorry doesn’t make it better.” you spoke sternly. “You’re still a spoilt brat.”

Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist; your core pressing down on his crotch. “And what are you gonna do about it?” he sassed and tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating as you reached out to slowly traced his mouth with your finger.

He bit his lip as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs; so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. You smirked when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your almost naked body.

“You need to learn how to do as you’re told sometimes.” You trailed your fingertips back up his body, making him squirm just a little and you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look you in the eyes. “Understood? Or do you need to be taught?” your tone sounded a lot more stern that you intended.

Bucky was pleasantly surprised. He nodded rapidly, trying to hide his smirk as the look on your face let him know that he was in for a ride. “Think I need to be taught.” He whispered, looking into your eyes to find lust, and hunger – same as his.

You smiled at his answer. Of course he did. “Very well then.” And without another word said, you grabbed both his hands and pulled them away from your body and pinned both of his wrists above his head, down on the pillows. “Keep them there.” You ordered.

But as usual, he didn’t have the habit of listening so he moved his hands back on you, pulling you closer and caressing your skin. He just needed to touch you. But you were running out of patience. You grabbed both his hands and pinned them above his head again. “I said, keep them there.” You said slowly, in a strict voice.

He smirked at first, but upon seeing that you were reaching for the black tie on your bedside table, his smile faded but he felt all tingly and his body throbbed in anticipation.

You grabbed the tie you had carelessly thrown there a day or two ago and carefully tied his wrists together. The cool, silky fabric against his skin made his heart skip a beat. You then secured his wrists to the part metal part wooden headboard. Your breasts were right in his face as you did so but he didn’t mind it.

Once done, you straightened your back to get a good look at him; beneath you, tied up and lips parted as he awaited what’s next. You smirked at how he gave you his famous puppy dog eyes. But no matter what, he wasn’t getting out of this so easily this time.

Oh no, you were planning on messing with him and toying with him until he can’t physically take it. And that’s exactly what you did.

You took off his sweatpants, and underwear then finally your robe. And as you did, his cock erected even more; standing proud and tall. Bucky’s face was flushed, and you could tell he was flustered and hot and bothered already – and you had barely touched him yet.

“Think you can always have your way, don’t you?” your voice barely above a whisper as you settle on his right thigh. You bit your lip the minute you felt his warm, smooth skin press against your wet core. You rolled your hips gently against his thigh and you felt the familiar tingle dance down your spine.

Bucky watched you ride his thigh slowly; lips parted, his cock beginning to throb and leak. He knew then that this was going to be a long, hard night for him.

You pressed both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him right where he needed you as you worked to get yourself off by humping his thigh. You were leaving behind a damp patch on his skin and he bit his lip as he watched you; breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you made yourself cum.

He watched how your soft moans got louder and how you humped his thigh faster, getting higher… and higher… you tilted your head back, purposely putting up a show just for him. He groaned when you whined wantonly, and he gently lifted his thigh – pressing further into your clit. He felt your wetness smearing all over his skin and he hopelessly wanted a taste.

Bucky’s cock was leaking embarrassingly by the time you came undone above him, leaving him still hard and throbbing.  

“Please…” he murmured as he watched you come down from your high. He was desperate, and hungry and he just wanted you wrapped around him. He needed to feel you, and your warmth.

You smirked as you slowed down and finally came to a stop, still straddling his thigh. “Please..” you mocked him, chuckling. “You’ve always had things handed to you on a platter. You’ve never known patience, or how to ask nicely, have you?” you smirked again, leaning in to trace his lips with your tongue. “Well you will today.”

You gave him a brief kiss before finally wrapping your hand around his cock. He almost whimpered as he closed his eyes and relished your touch. He felt thick and hard, and big. You lazily stroked his length, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you kissed your way down his neck. You kissed his skin feverishly; leaving your marks behind as you bit and sucked on Bucky’s skin around the base of his throat; making him shudder in pleasure and moan sinfully.

You pulled away after a while to look at him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and with his lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth; completely under your mercy. You smirked at how pre cum started dripping down his cock, and you knew that he was getting more and more desperate by how he kept murmuring please…please…please.

“Come on now, ask nicely.” You teased, knowing damn well you wouldn’t let him cum so easily.

Bucky groaned and opened his eyes to look at you. His eyes were darker, his gaze more intense and he tried to thrust his cock into your hand but then gave up because each time he did, you would just let go of his length. So he just let you toy with him however you liked, he took whatever you gave him.

“Please… please make me cum.” He whispered, voice strained and weak.

You chuckled as you felt him twitch in your grasp. “No.” you simply said and released him, leaving him right on the edge. He was still hard and throbbing and desperate. You leaned down to kiss him on his hip bones, gently kisses on each side and you heard him groan and squirm.

You smirked and kissed your way up his body. Eventually making your way up his body so you were straddling his face. Your hips wrapped around his head as he looked up at you. None of you minded the intimate position, he was just happy to finally touch you again. Bucky looked up at you with hunger in his eyes. And you smirked as you lowered your wet core to his mouth.

Bucky wasted no time, his mouth latched onto your clit and his tongue took in whatever you gave him. He worked his mouth at your entrance like his life depended on it. Sucking and licking and shoving his tongue past your wet folds, he ate you out like there’s no tomorrow, occasionally moving his head side to side.

You moaned out loud, throwing your head back as one of your hands held the head board for support and the other tangled in Bucky’s hair. His tongue worked wonders against your sensitive clit, making you feel all tingly and warm as you dripped all over his mouth.

“You taste so good…” he murmured against your wet folds and you very gently rolled your hips against his face, smearing your arousal all over his lips and chin; he licked a hot, thick stripe from your entrance up to your clit, with his teeth grazing it until he had you moaning loudly against him.

Your hips bucked against his face as he licked each and every drop of what you gave him. He closed his eyes and hummed loudly at your taste, making you whine and for a moment, you forgot that you weren’t supposed to be giving him the satisfaction. He was just that good and skilled with his tongue. Bucky adored the sounds you made above him. He even forgot that he was himself, throbbing with need. He was just hell bent on making you cum all over his tongue.

He had been fantasizing about this, about having your thighs wrapped around his head and to taste you and make you cum all over his tongue. And you soon realized that you were letting him have his way, so you pulled away quickly.

Bucky’s eyes shot open, “No please… I want more,” he complained, whining as you moved away from his face and kissed your way down his body again. And he was giving you the puppy dog eyes again. You almost gave in but you weren’t entirely done with him yet.

He whimpered as you slowly kissed your way down his body again; down his neck, across his bare chest and all the way to his thick, erected cock. Without any warning, you took him into your mouth, all of him. And he moaned out loud, mindlessly. You placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip.

You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. You kept your eyes on his perfect face as you sucked on his cock. He closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. He looked handsome, completely at your mercy.

The gasps and moans which escaped his lips as he squirmed made you smirk. It only made you want to tease him even more, and keep him on the edge. His breathy moans, his soft gasps and the way he whimpered at your touch – it made you feel even more powerful than usual. He moaned and panted; murmuring your name over and over again, begging you to speed up already and make him cum. Bucky relished the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him, perfect like he had dreamt of so often.

He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum. You slowed down, not wanting to grant him the satisfaction just yet. You took him out of your mouth; licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. Bucky moaned, his voice cracking; making him sound weak and desperate.

He swore under his breath as you dragged your tongue over the slit on this tip very lazily. You chuckled as he tried thrusting his hips up, hoping that you would stop messing with him already. Your ability of bringing him right to the edge and mercilessly keeping him there for as long as you wished to was driving him insane.

 Bucky lost all self-control the moment you sank down on him, your wet warmth wrapping all around him; making him swear under his breath and groan. You lean in and caress his face, looking him deep in his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. He was quite a sight; all muscular and strong, and handsome but tied to your bed at your mercy. You chuckled and leaned in to bite his lip, tugging on it as you pulled away, surely making him lose his mind. 

You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and making him get louder and louder each time. Just when you felt him twitch inside you, you lifted your hips up and pulled him out of you and watched him whine and smirked at his helplessness. 

“Come on, ask nicely.” You teased. “Beg.” You said more sternly, whispering against his mouth; lips hovering above his parted ones. You leaned in to kiss his open mouth carelessly. And in that moment, he was ready to do anything for you, to please you.

“Y/n… please...” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. But you heard it. His desperation was quite clear. And he was so sensitive, from all that teasing, that once you started riding him again; he began to thrust his hips up trying to match your movements. But you messed with him even then, you slowed down your pace whenever he got too excited, and you sped up when he least expected it.

At some point, he was nothing but a sweaty, moaning mess under you; messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. But you wanted more, you wanted to hear him whine some more, you wanted to hear how desperate he could get. You messed with him for as long as you could, and Bucky got loud, very loud; growling as you teased him, and whining your name whenever you kept him on the edge for too long. You alternated between having him in your mouth and riding his cock, and there was nothing else he could focus on in that moment. 

Just you. Only you. He was yours; yours to toy with and tease, yours to use as you pleased.

You eventually gave in; seeing he was physically worn out. And you fucked his brains out, making him cum in no time. Your walls clenched around him; gripping him and milking him perfectly. He was completely at your mercy, begging you to slow down when you kept riding his sensitive, throbbing cock even after he came. His heart raced, he was breathing hard and fast after you were done with him. You kissed his chest, murmuring how good he was.

“Now, will you finally learn how to behave and do as you’re told?” you gripped his jaw gently, and looked deep into his eyes while you spoke. His hands were still tied, and sore and they were itching to just reach out and touch you. 

Bucky nodded frantically. You smiled.

-

He stayed in your bed long after you two were done. He was clinging to you like a koala bear to a tree, shamelessly using your bare chest as a pillow. Your hand ran lazily into his hair and you smiled at how warm he felt. Sure, he was a tall and muscular man but he snuggled up to you like a child. You could feel his warm puffs of air hit your skin each steadily. You thought he was asleep but then he spoke up.

“Are you awake?” he asked, voice groggy and strained; deep.

“No.” you answered and waited for his reaction. And a few seconds later he lifted his head up to glare at you. You giggled at the face he made. After giving you a dirty glare, he got back to using your breasts as a pillow.

“Will you go out with me?” he spoke up again, asking you out.

“That’s not appropriate. I’m your dad’s employee.” you were starting to feel the day’s fatigue take over you slowly. You yawned right after speaking.

“Yeah? And what about what just happened? Is that appropriate?” he asked.

You sighed. “Go to sleep Bucky.” Truth is, you didn’t know what this was. But you wouldn’t lie, despite being annoying, it was hard not to love him.

He didn’t say anything. He pulled you closer and got on top of you, pinning you down on the bed this time. “Do you not like me?” he asked.

“I do! Get off, you’re heavy!” you giggled as he put all of his body weight on you.

“Then take responsibility for your actions. You stole my heart and now I’m in love with you.” he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone which made you laugh. “Look I’m hot and cute, it’s hard being both. I am smart,” he was listing and as soon as he said smart, you raised an eyebrow at him, questioningly. “I have a university degree to prove it, okay?” he resumed listing his qualities. “I’ll keep you away from crazy exes, and I will get you a puppy if you w-,”

You cut him off with a kiss. He sure was adorable. “Okay, okay stop.” You mumbled against his lips. “Your dad’s gonna kill me if we date.” You groaned thinking about what would happen if Mr. Barnes finds out.

Bucky kissed you deeply, then pulled away to look at you. “No he won’t. Dad likes you. Even if he tries to, I’ll protect you. I’m very strong as you can see.” He mumbled, pushing his face into the crook of your neck and making you giggle given you were ticklish.

“A big baby is what you are.” You corrected him. He chuckled.

“Please just give me a chance. I really, really like you.” he said, sincerely.

You gave it a thought. You liked him too. “Okay.” You said. He pulled away and smiled down at you. “I like you too.” You spoke again and Bucky leaned in to kiss you again.

Little did you know that giving him a chance would end up being the best decision you ever made…

[primatechnosynthpop]

Wow! Against all odds, I finally got around to actually writing the follow-up to I'm Gonna Be The Anti-Hero that's existed exclusively in my head for months! Well uh here it is :3

---

The secret underground room beneath Plymouth rock was dark and silent as always, save for the faint dripping of water through a crack in the ceiling. It figured that, after living there for countless centuries, the structural integrity would finally begin to erode. That dripping sound, although highly irritating when it first started a month or so ago, had now settled into background noise which John Smith paid no attention to. He was a pilgrim, not a witch; it wasn't like the water could hurt him.

Then again, he realized a few moments too late one rainy spring day, perhaps he should have reevaluated that statement. He was minding his own business sitting in his chair and reminiscing about the very old days (that was the only thing he could really do anymore, slowly decaying as his body was) when the soft and steady dripping suddenly escalated at an exponential rate into what sounded like a small waterfall. He turned his head to see a semi-transparent humanoid figure taking shape out of the water pooling in the corner--strangely tinted red, as though the water were mixed with blood. As the old pilgrim watched, jaw agape, the figure strode purposefully toward him, taking on a more solid form as it did so.

"What are you doing here, intruder?" John Smith demanded, one hand tightening around the hilt of his sword while his other hand reached behind his back to fumble for his musket.

"This secret underground room isn't government sanctioned," the stranger hissed. (Although... was he a stranger? John Smith somehow felt that he'd seen this youngster once before, but he couldn't quite place where or when.) "And you have no official identification registering you as a legal citizen. Not to mention, you haven't been paying taxes... disgraceful."

Before John Smith had the chance to concoct a retort or draw either of his weapons, the masked man's hands were around his throat and crushing his windpipe with a force that could only be driven by an inhuman amount of bloodlust. And within seconds, the life of a pilgrim that had been extended for centuries past its expiration date was finally put to an end.

*

"I can't believe they want us to make a clown movie at a time like this."

"I can believe it," Neil replied without looking up from the shopping list in his hand. "The studio wants a lot from us, remember? They're not going to care how sad we are. Anyway, it's been four months--" The emotions bubbling up within him refused to let his voice stay level, so he gritted his teeth and hissed out the rest of his sentence rather than let himself start crying in the middle of the dollar store. "We should be over it by now."

"Neil..." Kevin began in the way he'd often addressed Neil over the past few months--brow furrowed, voice edged with an obvious and vaguely patronizing concern--only to trail off and shake his head with a sigh. Apparently he'd finally given up on trying to make Neil feel better, which was just fine by him, because things are never gonna go back to the way they were before and it's my fault and I don't deserve to feel good about it.

"Anyway, we've got what we came for," Neil muttered, waving his hand in the general direction of Kevin's shopping basket without looking him in the eyes. "Let's go."

At the checkout counter, the cashier frowned and shook her head when Neil offered her a five-dollar bill. "Sorry," she told them, "But all this is going to cost $29.99."

"What? But we don't have that kind of money!" Neil lamented. "And we got this stuff from the clearance section... plus this is the dollar store, so shouldn't everything just cost a dollar?"

For a visual aid as he spoke, he grabbed one of the items they were ringing up--a bargain pack of multicoloured clown wigs--and shook it in the cashier's face. Apparently unmoved by his bargaining, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

"Maybe you should have checked the price tags first, sir."

"Huh? But, but..." Neil trailed off when he looked down at the price tag on the item in his hands. The bright orange tag had the original price, $7.50, crossed out and replaced with $2.35... but then below that, scribbled in tiny and barely legible font, it read "just kidding, it's actually eleven dollars now." "Aw, man," he groaned, tossing the pack down on the conveyor belt and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Just our luck."

Kevin had a thoughtful look in his eyes while he drove them home empty-handed. When he pulled up outside the clubhouse a few minutes later and they climbed out of the truck, he suddenly laid a hand on Neil's shoulder.

"Say, Neil, let's not get discouraged," he said. "I've got another idea for how we could get our hands on some props."

"Really?" Neil asked, perking up despite himself. "How?"

"Well, I think--" Kevin broke off as unexpectedly as he'd started, encouraging smile briefly dipping into a grimace. "...You know what, I'll take care of it myself. You can hold down the fort here, okay? I won't be long."

Neil's brow furrowed. "Okay, but what are you...?"

Without explaining himself any further, Kevin clapped him firmly on the back, hopped back into his truck, and drove off. Neil watched him recede down the road with bewilderment. Being all secretive like that wasn't like Kevin... Unless he's trying to protect me from something, he realized with a twinge of bitterness. That would be just like him, the way things had been recently. Ever since the past winter, and what had happened with Ryan, Kevin's latent big-brother-ish tendencies had escalated; now he watched over Neil like a hawk and freaked out every time he so much as stubbed his toe. Under different circumstances Neil would have relished being fussed over, but now it was more annoying than anything else. The thing was, he didn't deserve it. If anything... his fingers strayed up to absentmindedly fidget with the four-leaf clover pinned to his shirt. I deserve to have bad luck. I deserve to suffer, after what I did to Ryan.

Still, there wasn't much he could do about it now, and he wasn't going to say no to having the clubhouse to himself for a while. With a sigh, he disentangled his fingers from the clover's leaves, ran a hand through his overgrown bangs, and turned to head inside. Maybe he could play cards or something to pass the time.

*

A thick layer of dust had settled over everything in Ryan's house. That made sense, of course. It had been four months--no, five, since Ryan hadn't come home once while he was being a vigilante--since anyone had set foot there. Even so, Kevin was unprepared for the full-scale assault on his lungs when he opened the door, and promptly broke into a coughing fit.

"Man, good thing Neil stayed home," he thought aloud as he batted thick, swirling clouds of dust and spiderwebs out of his face. "The way things have been going for him lately..."

He'd probably choke to death on all this dust, he thought but didn't say aloud, and then felt bad for thinking it in the first place. Kevin didn't understand what had happened to Neil in the course of the past few days, but ever since picking up that clover, he seemed to be having a run of uncharacteristically bad luck. Whether it was random chance or something more suspicious was afoot, it sure wasn't doing much for his already thoroughly frayed nerves.

"Alright, calm down, James," he muttered to himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and ideally dispel the rest of the dust. "Focus. Concentrate. What are you here for? Props for your webisode. Right."

Keeping that objective in mind, he made his way past the front entrance and into the living room. There, a few objects were strewn around that caught his eye: a mannequin bust wearing a colourful wig; an eccentrically patterned jacket draped over a chair; a brush dipped into a rusted metal container filled with what he hoped was red paint. After looking around a little more he found a large cardboard box filled with mutilated stuffed animals, which he mostly emptied out and started filling with the useful items he came across.

All the while, a persistent feeling of unease stirred in his gut, becoming increasingly hard to ignore with each belonging of Ryan's he packed away. This is wrong. I shouldn't steal from him. Kevin paused and looked down at the box in his arms with a frown. One of the items sticking out the top, a blank-faced doll head, seemed to stare accusingly back at him. For a moment he saw it not as a plastic figure, but as a human form encased in ice and then broken apart. He blinked and the illusion quickly vanished, but an unsettling feeling remained in its wake. Neil was right; it had been months already. So why did going through Ryan's things make him feel so dirty? Ryan didn't need any of this stuff anymore. He was gone. Wasn't he?

With a weary sigh that, had anyone been around to ask, he would have accredited to the physical exertion of carrying heavy stuff around, Kevin set the box down and stepped back to survey the room he was in now. If he remembered right, this kind of room was called a study--there was an armchair with a few suspicious stains lurking beneath the dust, a desk strewn with papers all scrawled full of nonsense like the ravings of a mad scientist, and an ornate bookshelf. He wandered over to the latter furniture piece and ran his hands along the spines of the books, letting their leathery texture ground him in the present. He noticed several unusual bibles and other ancient texts, and a stash of calendars, some of which he was pretty sure had originally belonged to him or Neil; the up-to-date calendars and one of the more normal-looking bibles went into the box, while he decided everything else was better left where it was.

There was one other set of books he recognized: a teen fantasy series that Neil had often gushed about. Thinking back to the previous fall and all the events he normally tried not to think about, he experimentally lifted one of the fantasy books off the shelf. At once, just as he remembered from when Neil showed him, the bookshelf rumbled to the side and revealed a narrow staircase descending into the basement.

If anyone asked him, Kevin couldn't really say what compelled him to go down those stairs. The secret chamber was as empty as he remembered, with nothing down there that could possibly be of use for the webisode. And without a lantern, he could barely even see the only things that were there to speak of: the paintings of Ryan's ancestors.

"Ryan..." The name manifested on Kevin's lips unexpectedly as he stared, squinting through the dust and darkness, at the row of portraits grinning lopsidedly back at him. He knew the paintings couldn't hear him--hell, they weren't even paintings of Ryan himself, just his relatives. But their faces were practically identical to him, that face he hadn't seen in person for nearly half a year, and that alone was enough to clog up his throat with unbearable emotions.

The thought of It's a good thing Neil isn't here for this surfaced again, and this time Kevin had to agree with himself. Losing a close friend was... well, there was no way not to take it hard. But Neil seemed to have taken it particularly hard, even blaming himself, to the point where any mention of Ryan would immediately send him straight back into a depressive spiral no matter how happy he'd been a moment earlier. That was why Kevin had kept this idea a secret from his friend in the first place--that, and he wasn't sure if it was going to pan out and didn't want to get Neil's hopes up. He figured that if Neil asked where he got all the stuff he'd found, he'd just say it was from a garage sale.

Now, looking into the achingly familiar manic blue eyes of those portraits mounted on the wall, Kevin thought of those news reports about the mysterious killings that had been going on around town. If that really was Ryan, and he was somehow still alive...

"Why?" he whispered. Without really thinking, he reached out and pressed his hand against the painting as if to cup its cheek. "Why haven't you come home, Ryan? Where are you?"

*

The target was at home, alone in her bedroom playing video games. Casual, unbothered by any harm her actions may have caused. Shameful. In an icy swirl of perhaps not-so-righteous fury, the vigilante took form in the corner of her room and crept up behind her. With an average build and no weapons at the ready, she would be no trouble to dispose of.

"Playing dead in order to toy with an innocent man's feelings," he growled. "Some people would call it ghosting. I call it a crime punishable by death."

"Jesus christ, what the fuck?!" Wendy yelped as she spun to face the vigilante. "How'd you get in here?"

"You shouldn't worry about that," he told her, gloved hands already flexing in anticipation of tightening around her neck. Or perhaps this time he'd thrust his hand straight through her chest and rip out her heart--an appropriate punishment for her crimes. "You'll have plenty of time to figure it out once I send you to hell."

"Okay, seriously? What is happening here?" Eyes narrowed, Wendy put her game on pause and got to her feet to stare the vigilante down. "You said something about me playing dead..." Her eyes suddenly widened with recognition, and the vigilante waited for the fear to set in along with it, but instead she shook her head and laughed. A pitying laugh. "Wait, you're not friends with that, uh, that filmmaker guy, are you? Geez, I seriously must have dodged a bullet there."

"Filmmaker..." the vigilante murmured as the word echoed in his mind. Yes, that's right. The man she stood up was a filmmaker... of a sort. (How did he know that? How did he even know who this woman was? Those questions weren't worth dwelling on, he decided.) "You may have thought you dodged a bullet back then, but I'm here to see that the bullet circles back around and destroys you like you deserve."

Wendy crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, any trace of fear on her face outmatched by her sad, pitying smile. "Sure, keep the edgy sayings coming, Mr. Hot Topic. And what's with the getup, anyway?" she added with a nod to the vigilante's predominantly dark outfit. "Must be kinda warm."

Warm? The vigilante snorted derisively. No, of course he wasn't too warm. His blood, as it always had for as far back as he could clearly remember, ran cold like that of a snake. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been warm. And he certainly couldn't remember a time when he'd worn anything other than his current ensemble. Rather than waste time telling this insufferable woman as much, though, he simply took a few purposeful strides to close the distance between them, hands extended and more than ready to kill.

"Ugh, get away from me, creep!"

In a startlingly swift motion, Wendy's leg shot out and connected with the vigilante's ankles, sending him toppling to the floor. He hissed in irration, though not in pain--when his sensations were already perpetually numb, it would take a lot more than that to hurt him--and got to his feet, dusting himself off with a scowl. In the few seconds this took, Wendy grabbed a baseball bat from the corner of the room. Now she stood brandishing it in perfect athletic form with a battle-ready glint in her eye.

"Not another step, you hear me?" When the vigilante didn't dignify her with a response, she gritted her teeth and gave the bat a twirl--attempting to show off, it seemed, but her hands shook slightly and she nearly dropped the bat, only barely managing to regain her grip on it. "My mom is in the other room right now, and... well, she hasn't done anything wrong, so you don't want to punish her, right? And if anything happens to me..."

He stiffened at Wendy's mention of her mother. An innocent citizen? That was the type of person a vigilante was meant to protect at all costs; otherwise vigilante justice was no better than the police. But no one is innocent in this city. Even so, he understood the implicit threat--not that Wendy's mother would bring him down herself, but that either woman could very well call the police. And the last thing he wanted was to get law enforcement involved.

"...Fine," he snarled at last, turning on his heel with a twirl of his vigilante cape. "You can live a while longer. But I'll be back, and then you'll regret your sins."

He heard her gasp but didn't bother sparing her another glance as he let his form dissolve into a splash of red-tinted ice, sinking through her floorboards and off to thwart another criminal.

*

Slowly and carefully as a technician deactivating a bomb, Neil set the three of spades down across the top of the three other cards he'd lined up on the table. The humble beginnings of a tower stood for a moment, and he held his breath eagerly as he reached for another card to place on top, only for it to suddenly shudder and collapse like an anime girl who'd stood in the rain for too long.

"Dang it!" Neil threw his hands in the air in exasperation. When he did, a droplet of his own blood landed on his glasses, and he realized with a start that his hand was bleeding--just a paper cut, but still, he'd better wash up.

As he ran his hand under cold water, transfixed by the sight of the blood swirling down the drain, a sudden cracking noise rang out just above him. His head snapped up to stare at the spontaneously cracked bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back, stricken and gaunt, as shards of shattered glass rained down into the sink, where they mixed with the water and the blood. Neil shivered, his breath quickening.

Icy water... ice, blood, broken mirrors. All mixed together. Shattered. Blood, guts, ice, mixed together, down the drain. My fault my fault my fault my fault--

"No," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his nails into his scalp as hard as he could. "No! I didn't do it, I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

Deep breaths, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. It sounded like Kevin's voice, worried to the point of being slightly patronizing. Neil grimaced, annoyed at his own brain for manifesting its self-preservation in such a way, but he complied nonetheless. Keeping his eyes wrenched shut, he took several deep breaths in and out until his heartbeat slowed to normal--he hadn't even noticed it speeding up--and his hands didn't shake when he lowered them away from his head.

"Hey, you know what'd really make me feel better?" he said aloud to nobody in particular, putting on a broad smile and wiping his hands off on a towel. "A nice hot bath! Yep, that'll counteract my blood running cold, alright..."

He ran his hands up and down his arms as he spoke, although he didn't know who he was trying to fool; the chill that had settled into his bones had nothing to do with the temperature. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure who this whole performance of forced cheerfulness was meant for... the studio, maybe. He wouldn't put it past them to hide cameras everywhere. Either way, even if it wouldn't fix his psychological issues, a bath really would be pretty nice. He put the plug in and started running the tub, with the water temperature set just hot enough that it would scald him a little at first.

He wasn't sure exactly what happened when he sat down on the edge of the tub to take his socks off, whether he slipped on something or leaned too far back or what, but suddenly he lost balance. And by the time he realized he was falling backward, he only had a split-second to curse his rotten luck before his head connected with the wall and he blacked out.

*

In the end, Kevin managed to get a pretty good haul from Ryan's house. In addition to the stuff he and Neil could use for their webisode, he'd retrieved the calendars and a couple other things it looked like Ryan had stolen from them, as well as their old communicator wristwatches. (He wasn't sure if the watches fell into the camp of things Ryan had stolen, or if they'd just brought them over to his place for a sleepover once and forgotten them there. Either way, Kevin figured it could come in handy to start using them again.)

"Hey, Neil," he called as he stepped into the clubhouse with the box in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. "I'm back."

There was no reply. Frowning, Kevin set the box down with a slight grunt of effort and wandered through the living room and down the hall. There were a few playing cards scattered on the table, suggesting that Neil had been trying to make a house of cards but given up halfway. Kevin couldn't really blame him for that; assembling cards in such a way that they'd actually stay upright was yet another thing that had been more in Ryan's ballpark than in either of theirs. Still, that didn't explain where Neil was now...

"Neil? You there, bud?" Still being met with no answer, Kevin came to a stop outside the bathroom door, which was ajar with water pooling out from inside. "Oh, man, that's not a good sign..."

He gave a tentative knock, and when there was still no response, grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that met his eyes when he did so immediately made his breath hitch and his blood run cold. The broken mirror over the vanity reflected his slack-jawed expression as he stared at the overflowing bathtub, the pair of still-clothed legs dangling over the rim, and the smudge of blood on the wall leading down to the head of the man those legs belonged to, slumped inside the tub with his head submerged in the water.

"Neil!!"

Kevin sprinted across the room to lift Neil out of the tub. It then took him a few seconds longer to turn off the faucet and pull the plug, as by that point the shock had turned to dread and his hands were shaking. Once the water was slowly starting to drain, he fell to his knees and pulled Neil tight to his chest, one hand clutching at the back of his soaked-through t-shirt while the other fumbled across the back of his head searching for the source of the blood. It didn't take long for him to find the slightly matted patch of damp hair indicating where Neil had banged his head against the wall. Kevin swallowed hard as dread leapt up to claw at his throat. The only question is... how long was he submerged?

"Neil," he whispered, and was almost embarrassed to hear how hoarsely his own voice came out. "Wake up. Please."

No response. Kevin reluctantly pulled back to hold Neil at an arm's length, and shuddered at how limply his friend's body flopped forward. He noticed, with a white-hot jolt of irrational anger, that the four-leaf clover was still in place. Fat lot of good that thing's done for him. He grabbed the clover and crumpled it in his fist, all the while tears pressed against the back of his eyes; he struggled not to let them fall. Damn it... first Ryan, now Neil... What kind of protector was he? What kind of friend?

He slammed his fist, the useless clover still clenched within, against the drenched floor tiles. At that moment, the lightbulb above his head exploded and sent sparking wires raining down around him. As soon as electricity met water, it sent a nasty shock through Kevin's veins; he screamed out of equal parts surprise and pain and scrambled up onto the countertop, which was barely wide enough to support him.

On the floor below, Neil's body convulsed. Then his eyes snapped open and he drew in a gasp that turned into a scream halfway through. Although touching his friend's hand sent the current through his own body for a moment, Kevin was quick to grab him anyway, and he managed to pull Neil safely out of the electrified water and into a fierce embrace. Neil kept shrieking, and he squirmed frantically around, not seeming to recognize his surroundings at first.

"It's alright, Neil," Kevin assured him despite how hard his own heart was pounding. "I've got you."

"Oh..." Neil's body slackened, and he pulled back to blink slowly at Kevin, realization dawning in his eyes. His cheeks coloured with embarrassment and he ducked his head. "Uh, thanks."

Neither of them said anything else, for lack of ability or perhaps willingness to put it into words. After a moment, Kevin realized he was still holding the clover, and he handed it back to Neil, who took it with a dip of his head and a murmur of acknowledgement, and pinned it to his soaking wet t-shirt.

Somehow out of everything in the room, themselves included, that little scrap of plant matter was still intact. And although he wasn't superstitious, that simple fact was what would stick in Kevin's mind for the rest of the day, turning it over until he could only conclude: Yep, there's definitely something weird going on with that thing.

*

Despite the many months he'd prowled the city, this was the vigilante's first time in the hideout of a proper gang. It looked about the way he expected: dimly lit, no windows, weapons hung up on the wall and cigarette butts littering the floor. The gang members, dressed primarily in leather jackets with a few in denim, lounged in chairs leaning too far back, or on top of tables, or on their motorcycles parked right in the middle of the room. Most of them didn't even notice the vigilante as he approached. They were too caught up chattering and cackling amongst themselves like a nest of overgrown crows. The one gang member who did seem to notice the vigilante from the get-go simply looked up at him with raised eyebrows and addressed him once he got close enough to strike.

"Hey, haven't seen you around before. Looking to join the club?"

"Hardly," he snarled. "This whole place is crawling with criminals."

The whole room broke into laughter at that. The vigilante gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. These people were different from the criminals he'd taken down before; between their numbers and all the weapons they had easy access to, they might just pose a serious threat if he wasn't careful.

"You're the ones, aren't you?" he went on once the laughter had died down and the gang members were all watching him with a mix of bemusement and curiosity. No trace of fear amongst them yet, but that would change... "Throwing bricks at innocent people, even seeking to damage their property. Absolutely detestable."

"Woah, hang on," another of the gang members cut in sharply, reaching for a weapon as they stood. "First off, the whole brick throwing thing was months ago. Second of all, we never did that to innocent people, you know!"

"Yeah!" yet another gang member cut in, pumping her fist in the air. "Only to those losers who blew up our boss!"

...Boss?

The vigilante slowly turned, a deeper chill than normal running down his spine, as a strangely familiar smug cackle echoed from behind him. He came face-to-face with a man in a tank top and baseball cap, sneering at him with his arms crossed. Max. Gulping, the vigilante took a step backward. He's their boss?

(How did he know that name? How had he known Wendy's name either, for that matter? Why, out of all the criminals in the city, did a select few ignite disproportionate resentment within him? He'd dealt with some of these people before, he knew, but when he tried to remember when and how it all just turned to slush in his brain.)

"Yep, those losers got what was coming to 'em," Max said. "Except not really, 'cause they didn't suffer enough. But it's okay, we'll get 'em extra hard next time."

"No..." For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the vigilante's voice shook with equal parts fury and sudden fear. "Don't you dare hurt them."

"Huh?" Max tilted his head, already slightly squinted eyes narrowing further. "Heyyy, wait a minute, aren't you one of--?"

Before he could finish that thought, the vigilante was upon him with a karate chop to the windpipe. It was a more reckless attack than he'd planned, and even as Max stumbled backward coughing, he could hear the rest of the gang grabbing their weapons and running up behind him. But it was fine; the vigilante could take them all on and then some. He could kill any number of people if it was for the sake of defending his friends.

(Friends? Did he have friends? Somehow it felt that he must have, once. But that was strange, because the only thing he could clearly remember himself ever being was a cold-blooded vigilante.)

*

"Don't you see? Society's the one to blame! It's society's fault that he had no choice but to become this way!"

As Kevin delivered this speech, waving his arms dramatically toward the focus of the scene, Neil spun the video camera around to point it toward himself. Hopefully the studio would think of the disorienting cinematography for this webisode as a bold artistic choice rather than thinking of it as amateurish and embarrassing. He then leapt back, breaking into maniacal laughter with his prop gun raised in the air. Under ideal circumstances, this role might have been better suited to Ryan, but... well, they couldn't stay hung up on him forever; they had a job to do.

"Eh-heh-heh! Thanks to society, I have the urge to kill!" Neil twirled around to show off his clown costume, while just out of frame, Kevin hastily put on a wig and fake mustache. "And now... I'll kill this innocent man, who's different than the guy who was talking a minute ago!"

(It was fascinating--fascinating and dumb--how a broken mirror and a bit of blood could set him off, but something as heavy as a gun in his hand only brought him the faintest twinge of discomfort, easily ignored for the sake of making a webisode. After all, as Kevin had assured him many times over the past few months, it was the gun and its villainous weilder who were to blame for what had happened to Ryan. On an intellectual level Neil knew that was true--and besides, if he hadn't deflected that bullet, all three of them would have died. But knowing that did nothing to redirect when and why the darkness in his brain manifested.)

Now, much to Neil's surprise as he took aim with his prop gun, Kevin shouted "Cut!" and walked across the abandoned lot they were filming in to turn the camera off.

Neil lowered the gun, confused, as his costar removed his costume with that now all-too-familiar look of concern etched across his face. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know... somehow I've just got a bad feeling about this," Kevin muttered. "Maybe try firing into the air a couple times first."

Neil complied, and was met with the expected result from the prop: a couple of clicks indicating an empty chamber. "You worry too much these days, Kev," he said as he fired one more blank into the sky and then lowered the prop again. "It's not a real gun; it can't--"

As he spoke, his finger accidentally pressed the trigger again, and he broke off with a yelp at the sudden burst of pain in his right foot. He dropped the apparently very real gun with a clatter and clutched at his injured appendage, losing his balance in the process. Kevin swore under his breath and rushed forward to catch him. Before his friend could reach him, Neil's other foot came down on a wide crack in the pavement. A chill ran through him, momentarily distracting him from the throbbing pain, but it passed as quickly as it arose without seeming to trigger any effects.

"By god, what's happening to you?" Kevin exclaimed as he grabbed Neil by the shoulders and held him upright. "You've been so unlucky lately, it... it almost seems like a curse."

"A curse?" Neil stiffened, but quickly forced himself to shrug and morphed his grimace into a dismissive eye-roll. "Pfft, what are you talking about? There's no curse! I've just been, y'know, having an off-day..."

"Neil." There was that concerned look again, that almost parental tone of voice, as Kevin stared him down and tightened his grip on Neil's shoulders. "A couple hours ago you almost died, and now... you can tell something weird is going on, right? And, look--" He sighed, gaze darkening. "I don't exactly know how to fix it, but whatever's happening, I can't just sit back and watch you succumb to it. I can't lose you, too, Neil... not after..."

He trailed off with a faint warble in his voice, lowering his head. Neil gulped, a heavy weight surfacing in his chest. It was true; though he hated to admit it, at this point it was hard to deny that he was cursed. And yet, even as his foot throbbed around the spot where the bullet was lodged and his shoe was slowly stained from within by his own blood, it was hard to convince himself that he should accept help. On some level, didn't he deserve this? Wasn't this a fitting comeuppance for getting one of his friends killed?

Yet here was his other friend, clutching at him ever tighter to the point where his grip on Neil's shoulders was nearly as painful as hitting his head or getting mildly electrocuted or shooting himself in the foot. I'm not the only one who lost Ryan, he reminded himself--another thing he knew perfectly well on an intellectual level, but easy to forget in practice. Kevin is hurting too. I shouldn't make him hurt any more.

"Fine, I admit it," he sighed, letting his tensed-up shoulders slump. "I'm unlucky, okay? And if you think it's possible--" He tore the clover off his shirt and glared down at it-- "then we're going to beat this thing."

*

For as tough as the gang presented themselves, it must have been most of these people's first time in an actual fight. The vigilante swerved to avoid weak punches, clumsy kicks, poor attempts at stabbing. It all blended together after a while, and he stopped thinking of the gang members as individuals; they were just an indistinguishable swarm of insects whose attacks were easily dodged. Unimportant, save for their leader.

The vigilante had Max pinned to the floor now, holding his thrashing form in place with one arm while he brought his other fist down on the ruffian's face, over and over, as hard as he could. Not every blow connected cleanly, and Max had managed to bite him several times already, but that was irrelevant. Criminals must be brought to justice. That was why the vigilante hated these people, wasn't it? Because they were criminals. Yes, what other reason could he have, when this was all he'd ever been?

And then, just as he managed to land a blow to Max's jaw that left him defiantly spitting out blood and a couple of teeth, the vigilante's spine snapped.

It took a moment for him to register what had happened. He just heard a loud crack, and a sharp pain shot through him, and suddenly he couldn't hold his legs in place and collapsed. Max wasted no time taking advantage; he delivered a kick to the vigilante's gut that sent him flying back across the room, where he hit a wall and slumped to the ground, gasping in breathless agony. At once the other gang members closed in on him. Grimacing, the vigilante drew himself up onto his hands and knees, then braced himself against the wall and, with a far greater strain of effort than expected, dragged himself upright. By the time he'd managed to get to his feet, dozens of knives were inches away from him.

Then, to his surprise, Max pushed through to the front of the crowd and held his arms out to hold back his underlings. "Nuh-uh, this one's mine," he told them, sneering as though oblivious to the blood dribbling from between his lips. "I said I'd get him twice tomorrow, and I meant it."

The vigilante flinched as Max took a swipe at him. But rather than a fist connecting with his face, he was met only with the shock of exposure as the bully grabbed his mask and triumphantly yanked it off his face. He was left dumbfounded, blinking, as his vision readjusted to the light.

Wait a minute, I remember--

And then came the punch, square in the nose. Ryan yelped, pressing his gloved hand over his nose to stop the bleeding. When he dodged another punch, his body failed to cooperate and he crashed to the ground again, back aching furiously and heart pounding against his ribcage.

How and why his back had broken, he couldn't say, but one thing was clear: he was horrendously outmatched. Max was saying something now, gloating as he advanced on Ryan with a dagger in his hands, but Ryan couldn't make out the words over the blood rushing in his head. Why on earth had he gotten into a fight like this in the first place? What was he doing? He had to get out of there!

With that thought, yet another thing happened that Ryan didn't entirely understand. (Ryan didn't understand, but the vigilante did. It was one of the few things the vigilante knew: dissolve, reform, enact ruthless vengeance, dissolve again.) His body shuddered, and suddenly he found his solid flesh and bone giving way to a slurry of blood and ice that slipped through the cracks in the floor and disappeared. Then he was formless, freefalling through the dark, or at least that was what it felt like. When he took shape again it felt like dragging himself out of quicksand. Yet when he raised his slowly resolidifying head and looked around, he found himself in the basement of his own home, staring up at the portraits of his ancestors that had started it all.

No. Not started it all. "I had a life before this," he whispered, voice raw with the shock of memory and too many months spent speaking in an inhuman growl. "My name is Ryan, I have a life and a job and friends, I..."

Yes, that's right. Friends. Where were they? He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Each recent memory that took form in his mind was accompanied by a crashing wave of guilt and regret, and soon his body shook and tears pricked at his wrenched-shut eyes. That's right... I became a vigilante, and I teamed up with such a horrible person, let him manipulate me, all because I was too afraid to go back and apologize. And then...

The last thing he remembered, just after the flash of light and shock of paralyzing cold, was the sound of a gunshot, something shattering, and Neil screaming.

"Oh, dear god," Ryan whispered. He raised his head, opening his eyes and lowering his hands from his newly tear-stained face, and sat back on his heels as though worshipping the paintings before him. "What have I become?"

*

The ropes were just slightly too tight around Neil's limbs to be comfortable; he couldn't resist squirming a little as Kevin laid out the open bible on the end table next to his proton pack and began reading from it.

"Okay, um, let's see... ex-or-ciz-amus te, omnis immunde spiritus..." He squinted at the yellowed, faded pages, biting his lip. "Omni satanica pot-es-tas, omnis incurs--incursio infernalis adversarii... uh..."

"You're doing great," Neil called from his position tied to the bed frame; Kevin gave him a weary smile and thumbs up.

As Kevin continued reciting the verse, occasionally stumbling over a particularly tricky Latin word, the room's temperature eventually dropped a few degrees. Neil shivered, but his heartbeat picked up in excitement. He could feel something stirring in his blood like ripples on a lake, and when the furniture in the room began to quiver, so too did his body in eager anticipation.

"...Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux..." A chill wind swept through the room; Kevin gritted his teeth, one hand pressing down on the bible to hold its pages in place while he grabbed his proton pack with the other. "Vade retro Satana! Nun-quam-suade mihi vana!"

The furniture rumbled louder. Neil's eyes widened as an entire bookcase lifted off the ground. "Kevin, watch out!"

"Hang on, Neil, I'm almost done. Uh, where was I... sunt mala quae libas..."

"No, Kevin, the--"

"Just one more line, okay? Ipse ven--"

"KEVIN!"

That last terrified yell was what it took for Kevin to finally turn, just in time to see the six-foot block of polished oak fly directly into him. Neil shrieked and thrashed against his bindings with all his might, but even if he weren't tied up, there was nothing he could have done. The bookcase came crashing down, its contents spilling out onto the floor around it in a flurry of paper. And when the dust settled, Kevin was pinned beneath it, unmoving.

"N... no..." Neil whimpered. Dread tightened like a noose around his throat as the horrible thought seeped into his mind: This is because of me. Now I've gotten them both killed.

"Oh, yes, what a tragedy... just your luck, isn't it?"

Neil's blood ran cold. He raised his head to see the translucent, smoke-shrouded figure of a giant clover looming over him. Its four leaves, dark green tipped with crimson and speckled with barnacles, opened down the middle to reveal a row of needle-sharp fangs. For a second, "Where did you come from?" was on the tip of Neil's tongue. But it was just as well that he was too terrified to speak, because no sooner than the question appeared in his mind, he realized the obvious answer. Oh, right. This is the demon that cursed me.

"Don't worry, your friend is alive... for now," the demon jeered. "But that could change. It's so easy for accidents to happen, you know?"

As if to demonstrate, the demon's leaves fluttered and suddenly a fire sprang up dangerously close to the scattered pile of books on the floor. When Neil screamed in protest, the demon laughed, and part of the ceiling gave in, sending down a controlled shower of debris to put out the fire before anything flammable could catch.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Neil exclaimed with a shake of his head; he'd be almost exasperated if he weren't so terrified. "You're really powerful and want to hurt people, geez, not exactly a challenging concept. So, what do I have to do?"

That question seemed to give the demon pause. "...Do?"

"You know, to appease you or whatever. If you're threatening me with Kevin's life, then there must be something you want from me, right?" An idea occurred to Neil just then, and his already hammering heart beat even harder, to the point where he hoped the demon couldn't hear it and tell how freaked out he was. "Hey, it must suck having to be a clover. What if a lawnmower or forest fire had gotten to you before I did? And if you like hurting people so much..." He paused, smirking as the demon leaned toward him with obvious interest. "Wouldn't it be easier just to possess my whole body instead of wasting time messing with my luck?"

"That's..." The demon hesitated, its leaves curling up in what looked like excitement. "Ah. Ah-ha-ha! You're a clever little mortal, aren't you?"

"But don't get it twisted," he put in, glaring defiantly up at the demon despite hardly being in a position to threaten anyone. "You have to promise not to hurt anyone else. Especially not Kevin."

"It's a deal!"

Before Neil could stop and reconsider whether this was really a good idea, the demon dove toward him, row of fangs wide open as though it were going to bite his head off. He flinched a split-second before something cold and stinging like nettles clamped around him.

When he opened his eyes again, the world was tinted dark green as if viewed through a dingy screen, his head felt hazy... and he couldn't move, at least not of his own volition. Even opening his eyes just then wasn't his decision. He heard himself cackle, felt his arms and legs flex far harder than he'd known he was physically capable of flexing, breaking the ropes that bound him to the bed frame and setting his body free to do whatever the demon wanted.

"Hah..." the demon muttered in his voice as it made him walk over to where Kevin lay, still trapped and unconscious. The demon knelt down and poked experimentally at Kevin's shoulder and forearm. "This one has more muscle. It might have been a better choice for possession, if it wasn't so damaged already..."

For one petrifying moment, the demon grabbed Kevin's head and stared intently at him, stretching Neil's face into a grin so wide it made his whole face ache, and Neil's mind raced with horrible thoughts of things the demon might make his own hands inflict upon his poor helpless friend. But the demon simply laughed and dropped Kevin, who let out a low groan as his head lolled to the side--an indication that at least he really was still alive. But all of a sudden Neil had trouble believing that small mercy was really worth it.

"Ah, well, this body will do," the demon decided. "Let's take it out on the town and see how long it lasts!"

*

This time when the vigilante materialized in Wendy's room, she did little more than roll her eyes and move to grab her baseball bat. However, rather than try to attack her or even growl out any threats, the vigilante took two shaky steps and then collapsed, catching himself against her dresser. Wendy's eyes widened as she took a closer look at his face. His mask was off now, revealing a pair of striking blue eyes glistening with obvious distress, cheeks flushed with exertion, and a streak of half-dried blood running from his bruised nose. And when he spoke, it wasn't in the gravelly tone she'd heard from him before, but in a quiet higher-pitched voice--almost a whimper.

"Please... tell me..."

Wendy hung back, caught between a sharp tug of sympathy in her heart and a very rational wariness based on their previous encounter. The vigilante tried to walk again, and again nearly fell; his face wrenched up and he let out a pained hiss. At that, sympathy won out over rationality. Wendy edged toward him with her baseball bat in hand, and when she was close enough, held it out to him.

"Hey, uh... here. It's not exactly medically sanctioned, but maybe you could use this like a cane?"

"Oh... good idea, thank you!" He broke into a grin, and Wendy shivered; somehow he was far scarier when his eyes were bright and cheerful. "Terribly sorry for how I treated you last time, by the way. I really wasn't myself."

"Uh-huh?" While the vigilante tested out the makeshift cane, Wendy sat down on her bed, arms crossed. "And who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Ryan... or at least I think I still am." His smile faltered, and he looked away, anxiously running a hand through his hair. It was starting to come unpinned, and his hat was askew; evidently he'd been through a lot in the few hours it had been since their first encounter. "It's been... strange, lately. I don't think I'm entirely human anymore, if I ever was. But I came back here because there's something I want to understand."

"You want to know why I ghosted your friend?" It was just a guess, but Ryan nodded; Wendy smiled privately to herself for having figured it out. "Alright, I can tell you..."

She uncrossed her arms and leaned back on her bed, thinking back to the disastrous date she'd gone on several months prior. It was a story she'd recited many times to friends, relatives, other first dates as sort of a half-joking warning ("So, as long as you don't blow it as much as that guy did, we should be good...") and the more she told it, the more warped and exaggerated it became within her memory. But when she really thought back on it now, it hadn't been so disastrous at all--pretty damn awkward, sure, but not even close to the worst date she'd been on.

"Kevin actually seemed really sweet," she recalled, smiling despite herself at the memory of his big dorky grin. "I would have gone on a second date with him. But then, first thing the next morning, I read in the news that some guy got arrested right outside the restaurant while we were on our date. And the criminal's name? Neil. Same name as the 'friend' Kevin had said was helping him out." She shrugged, lips twisting into a frown. "I just got kinda freaked out, you know? Like, 'oh geez, did I go on a date with a drug dealer or serial killer or something?' Of course it probably wasn't anything that serious, and pretending to be dead was probably an overreaction, but... well, what's done is done."

Wendy was so caught up in her own memories as she explained all this that she wasn't really observing Ryan's reactions. Once she concluded her story, she glanced over to find him sitting on the floor with his legs tucked up awkwardly beneath him, the baseball bat in his lap; he was staring at the floor, expression unreadable. He stayed like that for a long moment, not seeming to notice that Wendy had stopped talking, until she cleared her throat. Then he jumped to attention, eyes flashing like those of a woodland cryptid in headlights.

"Ah! Yes, of course... well, I still don't entirely understand, but I think I resent you less now." Ryan tilted his head and shot her another shiver-inducing grin. (Whether it was supposed to be threatening or not, she had no idea.) "And you're right; I almost forgot--we're all criminals too, Neil and probably even Kevin and especially myself! So how can I be a vigilante?" He answered his own rhetorical question with a shake of his head, manic grin softening into a melancholy smile. "It's ridiculous. I've been so foolish."

With that, his body began to ripple, losing a little of its solidity. But before he could break apart and dissolve through the floorboards like last time, a chirpy little beep-beep-beedle-beep noise rang out. Ryan's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced down at an accessory around his wrist... Wait, is that one of those communicator watches like the one Kevin had?

If it was, Ryan wasn't quick to answer it. He simply stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the beeping device in silence. Although she knew even less about Ryan than she knew about his apparently only slightly more normal friends, and she didn't normally care to get too involved in the personal affairs of strangers, he was still in the middle of Wendy's bedroom. And the longer that little jingle repeated, the more annoying it got. So she cleared her throat again and asked, in as polite a tone as she could manage given the circumstances,

"So, are you gonna answer that, or what?"

*

It was a stupid, pointless idea. Not an idea at all, really. Just the last scraps of... not even hope, that was pretty much deplenished at the moment, but effort. The effort not to let everything fall apart even further than it already had.

Kevin had woken with a throbbing pain throughout pretty much his whole body. Judging by the crushing weight pressing down on his torso, he was lucky to have woken up at all. The only parts of him not pinned down were his head and right arm, and even those hurt to move, though at least the spinning in his head put some degree of separation between himself and his broken body. Forget about trying to wriggle free when it hurt just to breathe.

So there he was, stuck, the shelf slowly crushing the air out of him, and Neil was gone. Where to, he didn't know. When he craned his neck he could see the empty bed frame, and the ropes broken and discarded at the foot of it. The bible he'd gotten from Ryan's house was facedown beside the tipped-over end table, next to a crushed and twisted lump of metal and plastic that he was horrified to recognize as his beloved proton pack. So wherever Neil was now, he must have still been cursed... or worse. And there was nothing Kevin could do about it.

Unless. Grimacing at the way his joints twinged, he raised his unpinned arm above his head. There on his wrist, perfectly intact despite everything he'd been through, was his communicator wristwatch. In all the hubbub of that day, he'd never gotten around to mentioning them to Neil, so his friend wouldn't be wearing his. But what if...?

It was stupid. It was pointless. There was no way in hell. But it was the only thing he could do. In a display so lacking in dignity that he was grateful nobody was around to see it, Kevin used his teeth and tongue for lack of a free hand to dial in the frequency and send off a signal. The watch's screen flashed in affirmation; he let his head flop against the floor with a weary sigh. Now all he could do was wait.

When he was at Ryan's house going through his things, and he found those communicator wristwatches, he'd only found two of them. And although that could have meant a dozen different things, there was just one wild, far-fetched possibility that any last semblance of hope now rested upon: that the third watch was missing because Ryan was alive, and he was still wearing his.

He didn't expect to get a response. By the time he did, he was struggling to stay awake--funny thing, trying to breathe with fifty pounds of wood pressed directly on your chest really takes it out of you. But he snapped to attention, or the closest he could get when his head was swimming and his body was beginning to go numb from lack of circulation, the moment he heard that voice crackling through the speaker.

"H-hello? Kevin?"

The relief that coursed through his veins was so overwhelming, especially on top of everything else, that he could only laugh--only for it to quickly turn into hacking as his ribs offered a sharp jab of protest. He raised his sleeve to wipe away a streak of blood that dribbled from his lips before speaking into the watch.

"Ryan. Where are you?" He regretted wasting time with that question the moment he asked it; he could tell from the way his organs felt like they were curling in on themselves as he spoke that he didn't have the energy for a full conversation. So before Ryan could stammer out a proper response, Kevin continued: "Neil is in trouble. You've gotta help him."

"What?" The shrill uptick of anxiety in Ryan's voice was palpable, and even just hearing that voice in and of itself stirred up a whole miasma of feelings that there was no time to properly react to. "What's going on? Are you okay? You sound--"

"I'm fine," Kevin lied through gritted teeth. "And... I don't know exactly where Neil is, but I know he's in trouble." A choking mix of emotions and his own blood swelled in his throat as his slowly blurring gaze wandered to the facedown bible. "I've tried to do some stuff today that I couldn't do without you. I-- we need you, Ryan. So, please... help."

With that final plea, something broke within him like a dam that he hadn't even realized was cracking. His arm flopped to the ground, wrist landing near his ear, where the communicator watch kept emitting Ryan's voice as it slowly rose in pitch until he was almost shouting. But even as his friend called frantically out to him, Kevin found it harder to make out the words. He groaned, letting his head loll to the side and his eyes fall shut. The last sensation he was aware of as darkness closed around him was that there was something wet on his face.

*

"Kevin, are you still there? Hello? Kevin!"

He wasn't responding. Why wouldn't he be responding, if the situation was so urgent? Maybe because he couldn't respond. Because he was--

"What are you going to do?" Wendy's voice cut into the swirl of panic Ryan was rapidly descending into. She hovered over his shoulder, peering down at the watch with wide, anxious eyes. The watch's screen had gone dark. No signal. Yes, indeed, what to do?

"What else? I have to save Neil."

If Kevin didn't know where Neil was, then there was no way that Ryan should have been able to instantly find him. But when he closed his eyes and let his vigilante instincts take over, he found that he didn't have to know where someone was. Whatever dark magic was infused in him now, letting him exist in this not-quite-human state even after what should by all accounts have been his death, it was hardwired for vengeance. And saving Neil meant exacting vigilante justice on whoever or whatever was harming him. With that in mind, the vigilante dissolved in a flurry of blood-tinted ice and reformed seconds later in the place it somehow knew it needed to be.

The first thing Ryan noticed when he appeared on the rooftop was the storm brewing overhead. He raised his eyebrows at that; earlier that day there hadn't been a cloud in the sky--and for that matter, when he looked around, it appeared that most of the sky was still perfectly clear, with the storm clouds being localized around this building. The second thing he noticed, upon peering over the edge of the roof, was that he wasn't on just any rooftop, but a skyscraper that towered above every other building in the vicinity. Lastly, he noticed a flagpole at the far corner of the rooftop, several feet away from him. And that was when his gaze fell upon Neil.

Neil was laughing as he swayed back and forth, clad in a brightly patterned jacket that wasn't his usual style at all, his arms and legs wrapped tight around the tall metal pole. Above him, the dark clouds lit up in a flash, followed almost instantly by a rumble of thunder. Although these particular stormclouds didn't come with rain, Ryan shivered. An incredulous exclamation was on the tip of his tongue (What on earth are you doing, stop it, you'll be killed!) when Neil locked eyes with Ryan, and he realized with a jolt of horror that this wasn't Neil at all--his body, yes, but someone or something else was controlling it. His mouth was stretched into a grin far wider than what a human face could normally achieve, and rather than their usual brown, his eyes glowed a sickly shade of green.

"Why, if it isn't my dear friend Ryan!" Neil--or whatever was piloting him--called, raising one arm off the pole in an exaggerated wave. "Oh boy, the guy I got this body from is sure surprised to see you alive! And as much as I'd love to send you plummeting off the edge of this building, I did promise not to hurt anyone else, so..." He waved his hand in a circle, unnaturally glowing eyes crinkling with amusement. "How about instead I pull you in a little closer so you can get a nice good look when your friend's body fries?"

With that, a sudden gust of wind blew into Ryan from behind, sending him stumbling forward. When he attempted to regain his footing, his broken spine betrayed him once again and he flopped to the ground with an undignified oof just a few feet away from the base of the flagpole. Grimacing, he pushed himself up and crawled the remaining short distance to grab Neil's ankle. As he did so, he noticed there was a bloodstained hole in his friend's shoe, and that his pant leg was slightly damp and already bore a few singe marks. Between that and whatever had happened to Kevin... he shuddered at the thought of what his friends had gone through in his absence.

"Nice try, vigilante," the thing in Neil's body jeered. "But I've gotta say, you don't pose much of a threat since I broke your spine."

He stomped his other foot down on Ryan's hand; Ryan yelped and instinctively released his grip. And at the very instant he let go, in such perfectly unlucky timing that only a supernatural entity could orchestrate, the stormclouds above them opened up with a searing, crackling, blindingly bright lighting strike.

Neil tilted his head back and laughed at the top of his lungs as countless volts of electricity tore through him. That horrendous laughter drowned out Ryan's screams of protest, not that there was anything he could do anyway in his current state, when he couldn't so much as get to his feet. All he could do was lay there and gape in horror as Neil's body shuddered and his flesh began to sizzle and burn.

Though it felt like an eternity of torture, the lightning strike couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds. When it ended, Neil dropped like a ragdoll into Ryan's arms. Ryan, too stricken to even check for a pulse, simply stared blankly into his friend's glazed-over eyes. Then Neil blinked, and his eyes were glowing green again, and he laughed, the sound rougher now that it was being produced by a charred set of lungs.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! I wasn't expecting this body to survive that! Can you believe Neil is still kicking in here?" He tapped a finger against his head, then sat up with a playful kick of his legs. "...Or is he? It would be just like a demon to lie, wouldn't it?" He grabbed Ryan's chin with his burnt and blackened fingernails and forcefully tilted his head up so their gazes met. "You can't tell, can you, vigilante? So, how hard are you willing to throw your broken body around to try and save someone who might already be toast? Maybe you should just give up and go on with your day, hmm?"

While the demon taunted him, Ryan's mind raced to concoct a plan. Some miraculous last-minute solution that would fix everything... Neil would be able to think of one. Perhaps he already had. But that wouldn't do them any good when Neil was trapped and helpless within his own mind. If this really was a demon, and a powerful one at that, the only thing that might work was an impromptu exorcism.

"Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux! Vade retro Satana!" Reciting the passage from memory as rapidly as he could without tripping over his tongue, Ryan grabbed Neil by the wrists and held him tight while he hissed and tried to jerk away. "Nunquamsuade mihi vana! Sunt mala quae libas. Ipse venena bibas!"

An ungodly noise somewhere between a shriek and a roar erupted from Neil as he tossed his head back and convulsed. It was far too visually similar for comfort to his electrocution less than a minute prior, and Ryan wondered if the demon was doing it that way on purpose in an attempt to scare him into stopping. If so, it wouldn't work. Even if this process was as painful for Neil as it was for the demon possessing him, it had to be done.

Sure enough, as the final line of the chant echoed across the rooftop, Neil shuddered and slumped to the ground next to Ryan. When their gazes met this time, the demonic glow was gone, but Neil was breathing fast and shallow and his eyes were wide with lingering terror.

"Ryan," he whispered. "You're... alive."

"I think so," he replied with a tentative smile. "It's all a little confusing. But we're going to be okay now, Neil."

However, no sooner had those words left his mouth than Neil stiffened up again, eyes momentarily flashing green. "No," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as if to dispel the demon's grasp. "Not yet. Still gotta... get rid of it..." He grabbed Ryan's hands and held them desperately tight, like a scared child clinging to their parent or older sibling. His eyes flashed once more, and this time when the glow faded, his face bore a strained smile. "I've got an idea. Ryan, don't freak out."

And with that, before Ryan could process what was happening and reach out to stop him, Neil sprung to his feet and took a running leap off the edge of the building.

*

For a while now, Neil had been having unusually vivid dreams. They weren't always nightmares, but they often were. Dreams about different worlds, different realities, different lives. Ones where him and Kevin and Ryan weren't all friends. Or worse, ones where they still were, but that wasn't enough to save them. One of those recent dreams, which began as an exciting fantasy only to devolve into a nightmare, was about some kind of flying vehicle. Ever since having that dream, Neil had made two vows to himself. Firstly, that as soon as he gathered the funds to afford it, he'd go back to school and complete his aeronautical engineering degree. Secondly, to always carry a parachute, just in case.

But the demon possessing him had no way of knowing that, now did it? And it wouldn't want to still be trapped inside a host body that was splattered all over the pavement. That was what Neil was banking on, at least. Otherwise he might really be in trouble.

As he fell, a stinging sensation rippled through his body. He shuddered, yet there was a smile on his face--no longer a grin stretched unnaturally wide, but an expression of his own volition--and his heart pounded not with terror but with exhilaration and boundless relief. Sure enough, the demon leapt forth from him and departed in a swirl of green smoke. And with it gone, he wasted no time in engaging the parachute--just in time to slow his acceleration enough that the fall wouldn't kill him.

Admittedly, he didn't exactly come down gracefully. He landed in a tangle of limbs and fabric that he had to shrug off the borrowed jacket, parachute and all, in order to escape, and the landing was just rough enough to deliver a painful reminder of the electrical burns covering the better part of his body. Still, Neil couldn't stop grinning as he gingerly picked himself up and dusted himself off. He was alive and no longer possessed; that was a win in his book.

When he craned his neck to look up at the roof, he thought he saw Ryan still sitting there. Neil grimaced as he recalled what the demon had said about breaking Ryan's back; hopefully that injury was undone with the demon being vanquished, but since Neil's injuries were still there, maybe that wasn't so. Either way, he couldn't just leave his friend up there alone.

As quickly as he could run with a bullet wound in his foot, he entered the building and took the closest elevator to the rooftop. But by the time the elevator chimed and its doors slid open, the rooftop was abandoned, with no sign of Ryan save for an abandoned hat, cape, and gloves, and a slowly fading dark red stain.

*

If Kevin hadn't already been surprised to wake up alive the first time, he sure as hell was now. The only reason he knew he was alive at all was the deep, persistent ache that wracked practically his entire body. That, and the warmth of the hand laid atop his own.

Forcing his eyes open with a pained groan, he turned his head to see the man sitting at his bedside. Ryan squeezed his hand and flashed him a sad smile when their eyes met. His vigilante costume was gone, traded for a simple dress shirt and tie, and his hair fell unpinned around his visibly tired face; the chair he sat in, upon closer inspection, was an old-fashioned wheelchair.

With some effort, Kevin pushed himself into a sitting position. Looking around, he found that he was laying on the couch in the living room with his chest bandaged. How Ryan had managed to pull him out from beneath the bookcase, he had no idea, but he sure wasn't going to complain about it.

"Ryan, you... you're hurt?" It was a stupid question--why else would he be in a wheelchair? "Did the demon...?"

"It's gone now," Ryan responded. "But..." His gaze lowered, and he dropped his hands into his lap to fidget with the blanket draped over his legs. "It was a costly victory, I'm afraid. In order to defeat the demon, Neil--"

His tearful speech was interrupted by the distant bang of the front door being thrown open.

"Geez, you could've told me you were going straight home!" Neil's indignant voice rang out down the hall. "I wandered all over town looking for you."

Ryan's head snapped up, and he and Kevin turned in unison to see their friend running toward them with a slightly crooked gait. With a cry of joyous disbelief, Ryan opened his arms, and Neil tackled him in an embrace that nearly sent him toppling over; Kevin had to lean forward to grab the back of Ryan's chair to keep him upright as he and Neil clung to each other.

"Neil, you're alive! I-I thought..."

"It's okay, Ryan," said Neil. Then, pulling back and glancing at Kevin with a melancholy smile: "I think we're all going to be okay."

*

"So, what do you think?"

As the ending credits rolled on their latest webisode, Neil and Kevin turned to face Ryan with matching expectant grins.

"Well..." Ryan drummed his fingers against the keys of the laptop and tried to think of something positive to say. "The costumes you used were a lot more fashionable than usual--wait, hold on. Weren't those my clothes?"

They were in Kevin's truck parked outside the studio's headquarters, with Neil in the passenger seat and Ryan in the back. It had taken a little over a week for them to recover to the point where they could comfortably climb inside a vehicle, let alone Kevin being able to actually drive, and the studio had already sent them several notes warning them that their pay would be docked for submitting their webisode behind schedule.

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that," Kevin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"To be fair, if he hadn't broken into your house and stolen a bunch of stuff from you, he couldn't have called you on your communicator watch," Neil interjected cheerfully. "Or tried to do an exorcism... but I guess that didn't really work out for him anyway."

"Hey, c'mon, it wasn't stealing!" Kevin gave Neil a gentle shove, prompting him to briefly wince but laugh anyway. "If we'd known you were still alive, we wouldn't have taken your stuff, Ryan, honest."

"Ah, I'll have to remember that for next time," Ryan quipped. He closed the laptop and handed it back to Neil, who tucked it away inside an oversized shoulder bag. "Well, that may not have been the best webisode we've made, but I can tell you two did your best."

"Yeah, it'll be way better once we get back to making them as a trio," Neil said.

It was still amazing to Ryan that his friends were so quick to accept him back after all he'd done. If anything, it made him feel worse about his prolonged absence, because he knew now that he could have come back at any point and they would have been glad to have him. It was easy to fall into regret when thinking of all that had gone wrong, and all that could easily have gone even worse. But the fact was, they were together again now--altered by what they'd gone through, and not entirely for the better, but still themselves.

And despite it all, the preceding events and the possibility that another horrible thing could happen to them in the future, he found himself agreeing with Neil's hopeful statement.

"Indeed..." Ryan reached out and took Neil and Kevin's hands in his own. They smiled back at him with the same residual traces of relief in their eyes that Ryan had felt every so often over the past week--relief that they were still there to smile at each other. "Gentlemen, I look forward to working with you again."

¤--END--¤

[marveloussupernerd]

No Candy is Sweeter Than You - Saeran Choi

Happy Halloween! I hope you’ve enjoyed my randomly generated Halloween fics (I’ll prob do something similar for Christmas maybe). I just watched a YouTube video and it lowkey scared me ? So here’s some soft Saeran to primarily comfort me

Prompts: passing out candy, Saeran’s pretty excited, his favorite candy is m&ms 😉

Summary: Saeran wants to spend his first time ever celebrating Halloween by passing out candy with you at your house. Just some short fluff !

You were... surprised to say the least when you found out Saeran had never taken part in any Halloween festivities before. There was an RFA party planned, but he really didn’t feel like going, so you wanted to stay with him. Luckily, you lived in a neighborhood with a lot of children, so you invited him to come over and help you pass out candy.

He was all nervous at first. He googled how to pass out candy for Halloween. For some reason there’s a Wikihow article on that. It was practically his Bible.

“Are we wearing costumes?” He asked over the phone, calling you the day of to make sure he has everything planned out.

“We can. Why? Did WikiHow tell you to?” You teased. He laughed awkwardly. It did. “Okay. You have any idea what you want to wear?”

“Well they said to do something like a ghost that everyone will recognize,” he explained.

“But that’s so boring.”

He chuckled. “Okay. That’s fair. I wouldn’t know.”

“Halloween is a night you can be whatever you want!” You exclaimed. “Don’t you have anything in particular you’d like to be?”

“Could we... maybe do a couples’ costume?” He asked awkwardly. He sounded nervous over the line, his voice soft and somewhat hesitant.

“Of course! That’s a great idea.” You tried to make sure he could hear your smile even over the phone, hoping it would comfort him. It really was a good idea.

“Well... I was thinking... you know Hades and Persephone right?”

“Like the Greek mythology people?”

“Yeah... I thought it’d be kinda cool to dress like them. Uh, we don’t have to if you don’t want to though!” His words rushed together. “I just wanted to throw out a suggestion and-“

“Saeran that would be perfect. Greek God costumes are always popular too,” you reassured him. “Do you have what you need for it or do you wanna go shopping?”

“I have to run out and get a few things anyway! No problem. I can go get the candy too if you want.”

This sweet boy. “I can go with you,” you offered. You always liked spending time with him, even if it was just running errands together.

“Nope!” He denied you immediately, his voice surprisingly lighthearted for such a shut-down. “You stay home and get dressed up and relax. I’ll be over as soon as I have everything.”

“You sure you’ve got this? I’m more than happy to help.”

“I’m positive! I’m really excited and want to make it perfect.” You heard him laugh over the line, his laughter music to your ears. “See you soon. Love you.”

“Love you. Can’t wait to see you all dressed up.”

He hung up the call first, obviously in a rush to get everything together for the evening. You went to your closet and began tearing it apart for that Greek goddess dress you had worn how many years ago? Hopefully it still fit. (AN: if you never had a Greek goddess costume I’m sorry but ur in the minority)

You got to work doing your hair and makeup. You wanted to look absolutely perfect for Saeran, to make this day so special for him.

It was almost time for trick-or-treating to start. Luckily, you heard a knock on the door. Saeran was right on time. You opened the door. He was wearing all-black, spare a burgundy cape attached to his costume. He had an extravagant looking cane. His intimidating outfit, however, was offset by the bright smile on his face and the dozens of flowers peeking out from the top of a bag. “Saeran! You look so handsome Baby,” you complimented.

He blushed. “I got these for you.” He held out the flowers and you took them happily. “Can’t be the Goddess of Spring without a billion flowers. I picked them all myself,” he added proudly. You loved when he had his little ‘Ray’ moments, dabbling in his passion of gardening.

You took the flowers from him and got to work finding something to put them in. You didn’t have vases or anything in the house. You settled with a tall water bottle for now. He entered the house, setting the bag down on the counter. “I’ve got all kinds of good candy.”

You pulled out the bags, pouring the candy into a large bowl and took note of what he had decided to buy. “Reese’s, Kit Kat’s, M&Ms, Skittles... you even got fun sized bags of sour patch kids!? I’m impressed.”

“See, that WikiHow article isn’t all that bad,” he defended, a small smile playing on his lips as he realized how ridiculous he sounded.

“Do you not have a favorite?”

“Favorite candy?” He questioned, eyes glancing over the types in front of him. “Not really. I was never allowed to have it.” He shrugged it off, as though it wasn’t a big deal, but you were shocked.

“Okay! Well throughout the night we’ll try all the different candies and pick your favorite.” You decided, nodding your head. He nodded his head in agreement.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” He rummaged in the seemingly endless bag. “I made this for you too.” He pulled out a flower crown. It was really pretty. You bowed your head slightly and he put it on for you.

“It’s perfect. Completes the costume. You did this all today?”

“All today. I hope you like it.”

“Oh Saeran, I love it.” You cupped his cheek with your hand and pulled him close for a kiss. Just before your lips could touch, you heard the doorbell ring.

Saeran broke away, far too excited to be disappointed in the interruption. “Our first trick-or-treater!”

You giggled, grabbing the bowl and following after him. It was a little boy dressed as Mickey Mouse. “What do you say?” His mother asked him.

“Trick or treat!” He squealed. You giggled. Saeran took a handful of candy from the bowl and dropped it into his bag.

“I love your costume, Mickey. You look great!” He exclaimed. He was SO CUTE. After he left, it was time for Saeran to try his first candy of the night. He shut his eyes and pulled out a pack of sour patch kids. He popped an orange one into his mouth.

“They’re fine. I like how they’re really sour at first. The sweet part’s just okay though,” he commented. It was like a food critic giving his review. It made you laugh again. The doorbell rang. He set the candy aside and opened it up.

“Oh my! Snow White! Aren’t you so beautiful!” You exclaimed, fawning over the girl dressed as a princes. You gave her her candy.

“I’ve got something special for you too Princess!” Saeran exclaimed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flower. “For you, Princess. Thank you for visiting us tonight.”

The mom was fawning over how sweet the act was. The girl was just excited to get candy AND a flower. She left very happy.

Next was a Reese’s cup. The second he bit into it his face formed an O. “I really don’t like it that much,” he confessed, mouth still stuffed with the candy. “It tastes like a peanut butter cracker mostly. If I wanted that I’d just eat a peanut butter cracker.”

“I’m surprised to hear it. Most people love Reese’s,” you exclaimed. He shrugged it off.

“Have you ever thought about having kids one day?” You blurted out, the words leaving your mouth before you could process what you were going to say.

He paused. “I mean... I’m not sure. After everything... I don’t feel like I’d be a good parent.”

You frowned at hearing his thoughts. “I think you were amazing with that little girl. I bet a kid would be lucky to have you as a dad.”

“Maybe with you I’d want kids one day,” he spoke, thinking aloud. When he realized what he said, he smacked a hand over his mouth, cheeks and ears turning bright red.

You giggled. “Me too Sae. Me too.”

He opened the next candy, M&Ms. “Which color should I try?” He asked, cheeks still dusted pink from the previous conversation.

“They all taste the same, so any.”

He nodded, then grabbed a blue one. You could hear him crunch through the shell. “Wait. I really like this.” He reached in to grab a green one, trying it as well. “Babe you need to try these. They’re SO good!” He poured a few into your hand.

You couldn’t hold back your laugh. “I’ve had them before, but thank you for sharing.” You tossed a few into your mouth. “New favorite?”

“I don’t even need to try the others. This is the one.”

The rest of the night flew by with plenty of trick-or-treaters. Saeran’s favorite of the night was the girl in the Snow White costume. Yours was the blow-up t-rex. The trick-or-treaters did NOT get many M&Ms. About halfway through the night Saeran had already consumed all of them. 

Finally, it was time to turn off the porch light and settle in for the night. “Did you have fun?” You asked, pouring the extra candy into a ziplock bag so that you could have some later.

“I see why you like this holiday so much. I think it’s actually my new favorite.”

You grinned at him, proud that you were able to make the night go so smoothly. “Are you staying the night or are you heading home?” You asked, moving the chairs by the door back to the dining room table. Saeran helped carry his.

“Can I stay? I’ve still got one more sweet I wanna try.” He had a glint in his eye but his smile was so innocent. Maybe you were reading him wrong.

“Kit-kats? They’re pretty basic but honestly I-“

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Nooooo! I mean you.” He walked towards you, one hand resting around your waist, the other taking off your flower crown and setting it on the table. “I never got that kiss form earlier.” He pouted.

“I’m not a sweet,” you giggled, hand moving to rest on top of his own. “I’m just me.”

He leaned his forehead to rest against yours, noses brushing against each other. “My Love, you know that no candy is sweeter than you. At least not to me.”

You couldn’t wait any longer and pulled him in for that long-awaited kiss.

[chiibinomonodamon]

Doujinshi Translation

This is an AU where Gray takes Rachel in as a Sister to his church and she meets Zack in a different way!

*There is nothing sexual in the book.

*Trigger warnings: Off-screen animal cruelty :(

'Kami-sama Ga Shinda Hi Umareta Hi'

The Day God Died, God is Born by Tokiko Nao

Translation by Chiibi. Please do not repost and do not make scanlations without crediting me. (I am not sure about every single line but I’d like to see someone else do it better :D hahaha:p)

Kami-sama Ga Shinda Hi, Umareta Hi Page 01 Ray: Oh Lord...           God...please...somehow... Page 02 [door creaks] Gray: Rachel Ray: Oh, Father. Good morning. Gray: Good morning. [shuts door] Gray: Have you finished your morning duty? Ray: Yes. Gray: You have much enthusiasm. This is very good. Ray: Not at all. (Note: She isn't disagreeing; the polite thing to do in Japan when someone gives you a compliment is to be humble instead of saying 'thank you') Ray: It is only natural for one who serves the Lord. Gray: Is that so.            I've prepared breakfast for you. Please eat before it gets cold. Ray: Yes. Thank you very much. Child: FATHER! Page 03 Gray: My, what is wrong? You are all in such a rush... Child: Father, please help us!             This little guy collapsed near the church.              He's not moving and he's hurt... [sniff sniffle] At this rate, he'll die... Ray: It's okay.          His wound is not serious...          If we treat him and give him something to eat and keep him warm while he sleeps...          he will get better in no time.          So do not worry. [fluf]           The church will look after him.

Page 04 Kids: Thank you, Onee-chan!           We won't have to worry with Father here, right!? Gray: Well then, I shall leave him to you. Do let me know if you need anything. Kids: I know! Let's give him a name! Ray: Right. >: How about 'Max'? >: Whaaaaaat, that's so plain! Ray: You'll be all right now. Page 05 Ray thinking: He's later than usual...                            For the evening sermon...                             A person...?                             He's asleep.                             Who could it be at this hour...                              Oh well...this is a public place after all...                              Another day comes to an end.                              And yet...                              Lord God...

Page 06 Has not come to meet me today either... Zack: That's a boring prayer.             Is this really that fun for ya, little miss? [yawn]

Page 07 Ray: Who...are you?          What are you doing here...         Could you be a thief? >: Zack Gray: So you've come here after all.            I thought you would.            Would you like to eat supper?            I am preparing it now but... Zack: Don't need it.            Just came here to take a break. [slams door] Ray: Father...who is that man...? Gray: Oh...he comes to visit this place now and then.             To him, this is just a shelter that he doesn't have to pay for.              Don't worry about him. Ray:  Does he also... Gray: No, he is not a follower of God but...            He was chosen by God             As an 'angel'. Page 09 Ray thinking:                            Angel...?                             But that person...                              Had the scent of blood on him.

>: You've gotten a lot better, haven't you! Shall we go for a little walk? >: Wuf! >: Ah...you shouldn't run like tha... Page 10 >: Wuf! [spaced out] Ray: You're the...           one from before... Zack: And yer...           who now? Ray: [POUT]

Page 11 Ray: [still pouting]           We met in the church before... Zack: Ah, yer the little miss saying the boring prayers, huh.           Ya had a borin' face so I forgot. Ray: My name is Rachel Gardner. [hmph]           And you are...Mr...Zack? Was it? (she is using "-san" here) [shudder] Zack: DON'T CALL MY NAME IN THAT CREEPY-ASS WAY!           I'LL KILL YA DEAD!! Ray: [twitches]          That would be a problem...then what should I call you...? Zack: 'Zack' is fine...            Call me that...            That's what the shitty priest calls me too... Ray: Zack... Page 12 Ray [sits]         Zack, why are you here? Zack: AH!? Ray: I mean, why do you come here sometimes? Zack: whatcha sittin' down for           No reason...I guess it's a good place to hide. Ray: From who? Zack: AHHHHHH!? YER SURE ASK A LOTTA QUESTIONS!!           SO WHY THE HELL'RE YOU HERE!? Ray: Me? Well, truthfully...          My parents died...no.          I came here to sacrifice myself to the Lord.          I am waiting for that time. Zack: Oh I see. Ray: [pout]           Why did you ask if you don't care? Zack: Keh. I just asked ya back since ya asked me. Page 13 Ray: I see.          You're an odd person. Zack: HAAAAAAAAAAH!?            I DON'T WANNA HEAR THAT FROM YOU!! Ray: Owwwww [pinch] Zack: YA DON'T SMILE OR ANYTHIN!!            ARE THE MUSCLES IN YER FACE DEAD OR SOMETHIN!? [sting] Ray narrates: After that                            Zack appeared at the church quite frequently. [looking around] >: Max, here's your food! Page 14 >: He would come for several days on end but also not show up for several weeks... >: Maybe he's in the garden... Zack: HEY. >: WUF! [wag wag] Zack: [panting]           Keep a good grip on him, will ya! Ray: He was really quite a strange...          strange person.          So he was playing with you, Zack, huh?          That's good. >: Wuf! Zack: NEXT TIME YA GUYS INTERRUPT MY AFTERNOON NAP, I'LL KILL YA DEAD! Ray: But of course he was in the back yard where others can't enter.          And he showed up during the night.         Max has really bonded with Zack too... Zack: Guess I'll go back to sleep again. Page 15 Ray: I wonder what Zack does outside of this place...? Zack: So? [staaaaaaaaaaaaaare]           Whatcha up to, today? Ray: Working in the garden.          Are you hiding again?          I'm planting new flowers. Zack: Like I care.           Killin' time. Ray: I see... Zack: Ya don't have that book today.            Even though yer always hangin' onto it. Ray: You mean my Bible?          It should be expected that I wouldn't carry it while I'm working in the garden.           Are you interested in the Bible? Zack: Keh. Nope...can't even read it anyway. Page 16 Ray: Okay, all done. [pat pat] Zack: That dog ain't here, huh? Ray: Did you come to see him? Zack: IDIOT! NO, I FREAKIN' DIDN'T!! Ray: I thought you'd come to see him quite a lot lately.          I see... Zack: LISTEN TO ME, YA LITTLE SHIT!! Child : WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?

Page 17 >: Max is gone!?    Whyyy!? Ray: Yes. Someone came to take him in. Child: Darn. We wanted to play with him some more. Child: But at least he went to a fun home, right? That's good! Ray: I know you came here to see him... I am sorry. [door creaks] Gray: Rachel...            I'd like to talk with you. Please come with me. Page 18 Gray: I picked this up from the back yard.            This is a bad habit of yours. And I've overlooked it many times.             But now...why did you kill THIS one? Ray: That puppy really got attached to Zack.          I didn't want Zack to take him from me... Page 19           Thus I made him "mine". Gray: Goodness. I am quite disgusted with you.            We do not selfishly act to obtain our own desires. [sigh]              I knew you were not a vessel for an angel. Ray: Angel...?          No...I...          That is not what I wish for...           Father, in order to sacrifice myself for God, I... Gray: Rachel Page 20 [badum]            The God you desire is does not exist here.             No matter how much you pray             There is no "God" that can meet your conditions.              Besides that, you who cannot even be loved by others...               think God would actually love you? Ray: No... [tremble]          Stop...it. Gray: You are so pitiful. Ray: STOP IT!! Page 21 [dash] [monologue] There is no God for me? That has to be a lie!! Ahh Lord... I... I shouldn't be alive, should I... Lord God... Somehow please...! Because of that? Page 22 Is that why He will not come for me? [panting] Because my God doesn't exist? I won't accept that. Because if I do... I don't want to die while I'm still unsightly!! Will someone kill me? I thought if it was God... The unsightly me would still be accepted. I thought He could kill me and make me beautiful. [rustle] Page 23 "He is an angel". Ray: I might be no good.         Do you have a God who accepts you?         Zack... >: He always smells of blood. Why... Zack who cannot even read the Bible How can this be...? What's the difference between him and me...? If I make Zack mine... can God make me His own too...? Page 24 Zack: I SAID if ya interrupt my nap, I'd kill ya DEAD, didn't I? [wham]            Killin' that dog didn't satisfy ya enough, huh?            Little miss. [cough] Ray: Then kill me too! [glare]           Serial Killer Issac Foster! Zack: Hah            Impressive ya figured it out... Page 25 Ray: Anyone could if they did a little research...          You always came to this place right after an incident happened in town...          You're hiding from the police, aren't you?          And thanks to our priest hiding you here...          The most faithful and trusted person in the whole city...           Nobody would ever suspect him of harboring a serial killer. [pant pant] Zack: Whatsa matter?            Yer chattier than usual today, ain'tcha... [Ray stuggles for breath] Wh...y... 26

Ray: What's the difference between you and me...? [drip drip] : Why does God... Zack: God...? Yer talking about that stuff again? Ray: I... Zack: You pretend to pray... Ray: I was just waiting... Zack: Is that big heavy bible really that important to ya? Ray: For the Lord God to come for me... Zack: Ya got some nerve.            Ya intend to only make yourself clean? [grip]            Even now ya reek of blood and flesh. 27             Just try it on me.             Neither you or I would change!              Isn't that right, Ray? Ray: Me...and you...? Zack: Well, I don't rely on God though.             All right. I'm outta here.             Their search for me is gettin' more serious so I can't visit this place anymore. [wave]              See ya. Ray: Tell me, Zack Page 28        If I beg you to kill me        will you listen...? Zack: Huh...?           I ain't interested in killin' someone with such a borin' face.           And I got no intention of bein' used by you. Ray: Then take me with you.           I've lost my reason to be here... [drip drip]          If I hadn't followed you, I'd just be left behind but          If you need, you can use me as a decoy.          I'm sure I can be of use to you.          So it's okay with me to be killed by you. [flutter]           When that time comes Page 29             Kill me, please. Ray thinking: That's right. The one who kills me Page 30 Can be Him. (she is using the kanji for Lord God here) Zack: Hah.           This time yer going depend on me instead of God, huh. Ray: But I need someone to rely on         ...I guess        Plus you might be better than God... Zack: I'm not into the gross habit of purposely killin' someone who wants to die.          If ya want me to kill ya, ya gotta work with me first.         Help me escape this town.         If ya make a better face for me after we've left here        That's when... Page 31         I'll kill ya. "Serial killer Issac Foster now suspected of kidnapping" "Is still on the run" "Fearful nights continue"... Ray: That's what it says. Zack: Damn it all! It's YER fault they suspect me of kidnapping now, ain't it! Ray: Kidnapping on top of everything else doesn't really change anything though...         It looks like they found out you went to the church.         The Father must have stirred up the search for you, somehow.          Leaving the town was the right action. Zack: Geeze, whatta pain in the ass. Page 32 Ray: If I'm a burden to you, you can kill me and go on alone? Zack: Yer all I got, ya know!?            They would trace ya all the way to here, wouldn't they? Ray: Well spotted. [sigh] [ARGH!!] Zack: STOP ASKING ME STUPID BORING CRAP!!            THINK ABOUT WHAT TO DO ABOUT THIS SHIT GOIN' ON NOW!!           IT'S BAD!! [lol sirens] Ray: This is because you act without thinking about where you are, Zack...          But I'll do my best.         So you will kill me.

[thebookofbri]

Things I Wish I Told My West Indian Parents - The Collective

Dear Kings and Queens , I come to you all with a warm heart of gratitude. I applaud your courage, your strength, and your voice! Thank you for trusting me enough to share these very sensitive thoughts and experiences that you have all held close to your heart. May these pieces serve as a R E L E A S E . May they BIND UP the negative impacts that they’ve caused and may they LOOSEN the beautiful souls that you all are evolving into.

Whether you are a viewer outside of the west Indian community, a west Indian parent, child(ren) of west indian parents, or a supportive friend, I ask you to open up your hearts and minds to these shared stories and experiences below:

“I wish I told my west Indian parents that disciplining your children doesn’t always have to mean putting your hands on us – A conversation here and there would’ve been enough. ”

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“ I wish I told my west Indian parents that  I was a bisexual”

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“I Wish I told my west Indian parents that I think I would’ve been into church wayyyyyyyyyyyyy more if not so forceful. Like I wish they would just talk to us as humans. Not as a thing. Don’t get me wrong I’m into church and love God. I’d give my life to stand up for him. But growing up I would’ve been this way if not so forceful”.

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“Communication especially about the uncomfortable topics like sex! Life isn’t just about education and working!

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“Growing up I was never truly allowed to express myself emotionally if physically. Like if I ever thought my parents were wrong and I dared to speak up about it no matter how respectful I was about it, I would get shut down disrespectfully as if I was in the wrong the whole time. It hurt me because I didn’t really know how to and it affected my school, work, and even personal/romantic relationships. I was also put under extremely high standards, this put a lot of pressure on me from and every young age. It was hard for me to learn how to let go, it was hard for me to learn it’s okay to not be perfect, it was hard for me to accept failure and truly I still struggle with it which also makes it hard for me to open up about things I’ve failed in or not being able to make those around me happy as I feel they should be”.

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Things I Wish I Told My West Indian Mom - When you tell your daughter “little girls should be seen and not heard” You’re teaching her to be submissive and passive. You’re teaching her that she has no voice and it’s not her place to speak on things she’s passionate of. You’re teaching her to sit by and watch men screw up everything consistently. Unfortunately, you’re teaching her that her voice doesn’t matter which is ruinous to her development because her voice is one of the most powerful tools in her belt.

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1. I wish I didn’t have to figure out that you loved me or that you were proud of me, I wish you would have just told me. For years, I worked to earn what should have been given to me as a birthright and in your inability to express this to me, I struggled to find it in myself and so sought it in the world. I didn’t find it there either.

2. The provisions you provided me, the house, the lights, the food, and the clothes; they were always appreciated but there was nothing I valued more and rarely received like your physical presence. You worked ceaselessly to provide and I will never forsake or undermine that sacrifice but you missed what mattered that most; the person I grew into. That person was more than a profession. That person was more than the education. That person was more than the expectations and I wish you had gotten to know her, because I struggled to find her, heal her, and forge her, to become her, and more likely than not; you’ve never had the pleasure of meeting her.

3. I wish your love language wasn’t physical discipline. In place of constructive affirmations or words of affections, your preferred course of action created more gaps in the love story you poorly narrated over the course of my life. It made resenting you second nature and resenting the world; first.

4. I wish I could carry the weight of dashed dreams, the ones you called expectations, as easily as I could shoulder the weight of the hurtful rhetoric that had become commonplace between us. Know that in spite of that, I tried and still try to live up to them, if only to give you the joy that seemed to escape you so often. If only to shrink the cost of your sacrifice.

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I Wish They Told Me That Silence is Not A Strength ! Since I was a little girl I’ve watched my mom bend over backwards for people whose sole intentions were to take advantage of her. Through and through, I always hear her say when people wrong you, just turn the other cheek. Now, don’t get me wrong it also says that in the Bible, but in the Haitian culture we tend to use The WORD out of context quite a lot. She was never truly happy, but never dared to speak up. Of course, I learned from her, after all, she was my mother ! THIS silence has broken me times and times again. Even when I was wronged in many ways imaginable, by family who was supposed to love me and care for me. Eventually, I came to the realization that if everything bad that happens to me I stay silent, then how can I help the next person who went through that situation or something? One of the main events in my life that lead to this realization was when a family member tried to abuse me sexually.

In that moment I told myself “ I can do two things scream so everyone in the house will come running, and he will stop or stay silent like I was taught” I went with option two.... I SCREAMED like my life depended on it. When asked why I was screaming, I explained that he ( my cousin) tried to touch me inappropriately. I was met with so much disappointment. My uncle asked me “ how could you even say that ? Are you trying to bring shame to my family ?”They told me to never repeat the occurrence of that event. It was killing me, so I decided to tell my dad . I was living with this family after my mom passed away, because it was too painful to stay in the house that mom and I shared almost all of my life. I told my dad all that happened, he was furious, and decided that I had to come back home.

My dad was the only person who believed me before I even uttered a word. I then moved to the United States, and told myself that this so called family was practically dead to me. The trauma was slowly killing me. At the age of 17, I decided to begin my own healing process, and started telling everyone who will listen, and I started to feel better because I could finally speak! I was free from the bondage of silence, It felt like I was almost completely in control of my voice again.

Finally, I decided to make the final process of my healing forgiveness. I forgave them, but I promised myself that I will never let anyone hurt by keeping my truth hidden, no matter how ugly it may be. I am now the mother of a beautiful littler girl, and I can never imagine her being in my position, but scared to speak up against injustices, unfair treatment, and things that make her uncomfortable.

Silence in our culture allow evil to repeat itself. Our culture is so good at sweeping things under the rug that it will eventually destroy our nation. However, I will continue to teach my daughter to always use her voice!!. I will teach her to be the voice of reason for her generation. I want her to know that I have her back no matter what, and I will choose to believe her story every single time. SILENCE is not a strength!

_______________________________________________________________________

I Wish my West Indian Parents Told Me that vulnerability does not equate weakness.

_______________________________________________________________________

I wish my west Indian parents told me that they loved me.

_______________________________________________________________________

“As an adult I struggle to have real genuine romantic relationships and friendships because I struggle with being emotionally intelligent and available to the ones I care about. I wish my parents taught me how to love – their example as a married couple seemed dull and lifeless. Their relationships with me and my siblings reflected that very same thing.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“As a young woman I wish my west Indian mother told me that being single after college and wanting to do my own thing is okay. I wish she told me that It didn’t and still doesn’t take a male figure to complete me”.

_______________________________________________________________________

“I wish my parents didn’t compare me to other people’s kids – all it did was embarrass me and make me feel like I wasn’t good enough”.

_______________________________________________________________________

“I wish my west Indian father would actually spend time with me – I know he has to work but his absence has impacted my life so much”.

_______________________________________________________________________

“I wish my west Indian parents knew that I am trying my best and that mental health is real. I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression and it’s not an excuse to do nothing - I just need help”.

_______________________________________________________________________

Thank you for your support and thank you for taking the time to read the experiences of others. .

I ask that you reflect on what you’ve read.

Has this raised any awareness for you?

Are there similarities or parallels that you can make from these stories in your own life?

If you are West Indian – what will you do differently as a parent? As a friend? As a daughter or son?

Any conversations you think you’d start?

Peace & Love Tribe 🌻❤️

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 4x06-- The Gang Offends Everyone

Thoughts under the cut. 

Another long episode, yay! But it’s a minute shorter than 3x04, so I feel slightly better about it. 

Lucca bought herself a Birkin bag with a portion of her poker winnings. Clearly she knows it’s a status symbol, but the second she realizes people are noticing it, she’s slightly embarrassed. Or maybe I’m reading this wrong. I think she wanted to impress everyone and show off and then started feeling uncomfortable. I am a little shocked she decided to take it to work.

Tbh I don’t think I would notice if someone carried a Birkin bag into my office.

Marissa knows a lot about Birkins, which tracks. As she says, she was raised around rich people. I would bet ELI knows about Birkins and the types of stitching too. 

Landau is back with an absolutely ridiculous idea: Running Adrian for President in 2024. Landau mentions that this year we started with a diverse field of candidates but “no candidate of color went the distance.” I know what he means but could he maybe phrase it in a way that doesn’t make it sound like it’s the candidate's fault? Also, question, what is running Adrian as a candidate early on going to do other than create more noise in the field and prevent people from unifying behind one candidate? 

(And, surely, there are more qualified people to run than Adrian Boseman, but this is TV and I will be quiet about this.)

As far as I can tell, this plot is about forcing Adrian into a new realm where optics matter more than money, thus forcing Adrian/the audience to confront a lot of the choices Adrian tends to make. 

They want him to stay on the stage until Iowa so black voters can “see themselves up there.” So it’s almost like their plan is to pick a moderately convincing candidate they know will lose in order to appease black voters??? What’s the point, to say they care but not enough to find a candidate who could actually win? Maybe I’m being too cynical. Or maybe it’s because it involves a fictional character that I’m so critical.

That said, the way Landau/the DNC have been written on this show? They CLEARLY are not supposed to actually understand black voters.

Just… don’t turn into season 7 of TGW, show. Peter running for president was such a poorly executed idea. 

I can’t tell if this plan would be to run someone in 2024 no matter what (meaning if Biden doesn’t seek a second term or if we have to deal with 4 more years of 45) or if it’s contingent upon 45 being reelected. If the latter, then that means that Adrian, in his own self-interest, would.... Want 45 to get reelected? Odd thought.

Adrian promises he won’t tell anyone and shakes on it. He immediately tells Liz.

I love how Diane’s name is on the letterhead but she is almost never looped into conversations like this. This is more personal than professional so it obviously makes sense that Liz would be the one he confides in, but it happens more generally too. 

Liz kind of mocks the idea of Adrian being the future of the party, and Adrian accuses her of being jealous. “What are your positions?” Liz wants to know. Good question. Adrian jokes that Liz could be his policy adviser, and Liz reminds him she brought the DNC in to begin with, used to work in government, and knows how to pronounce Kamala Harris’ name. All fair points. Adrian is definitely the more charismatic of the two (and he’s been on Cable News-- he went viral in the universe of the show AND in the real world for it!) but charisma is the kind of thing that matters far more than it should in politics. 

“Are you saying former prosecutors are unelectable, or just black female former prosecutors?” Liz attacks. IMO Adrian hasn’t really thought about it and is just parroting what the DNC said. And this is why Liz would be better at the job than Adrian, but it will never matter because no one is ever going to ask someone like Liz when they could ask someone like Adrian. Which is, I think, Liz’s point: she’s not jealous so much as she is incredulous at how this opportunity just appeared out of nowhere for Adrian when he has no experience, no policies, and no stances. Liz has all three (maybe not policies, but I bet she knows where she would stand if she needed to make policies) but no one is asking her to run.

“Would it kill them to recruit a woman every once in a while?” Liz wonders after Adrian’s gone. Precisely. I don’t think Liz wants this for herself-- but when she sees it go to Adrian, she sees how it’s not going to any of the other qualified black women who want it more than Adrian. 

Adrian goes to see his client, a swimmer, and says they’re changing strategies because of the politics. This may very well have been his plan for a while, but putting this scene right after the other two definitely makes it feel like Adrian is doing this for his own image.

I feel like most TGF characters are motivated by some combination of power and stability. Diane and Adrian want to have power, so they compromise on their principles to get ahead or make their position as prestigious as possible. Liz (who is actually a bit like her former rival Alicia in this!) compromises on her principles when it means not getting into fights that aren’t worth it or jeopardizing job security; Lucca is usually the same way and doesn’t wade into controversies. I have lots of thoughts on this I will probably come back to as the episode goes on and we see more from Liz.

This is one of the more case heavy TGF episodes, and it’s one of the more interesting, layered cases they’ve done. An aspiring Olympic swimmer has just missed the mark for going to the Olympics. As far as I can tell the underlying issue is that the meet was rescheduled from 2019 (normal timeline) to 2020 to let another swimmer have more time to prepare. I can’t tell if the timing ceases to matter once they switch strategies (right now they’re arguing it’s racial descrimination) or if it’s just forgotten as the episode progresses. Seems to me like that’s where their case is the best-- if they moved the date to advantage one swimmer, for any reason, that’s a pretty bad look.

How is it possible that this dude who played Bree’s sex addict boyfriend on Desperate Housewives and was on The Americans and a few other NYC filmed shows is only just now showing up on TGW/F!?!? 

Memo 618 leads Diane and Julius to compare what they know. Julius explains what spooked him; Diane explains the Visitor. In the middle of all this, Marissa interrupts to share the news of Lucca’s new bag-- heh. 

I assume the middle 3 numbers of Visitor’s phone number are blank because the writers wanted to use the fact they couldn’t print an actual number to add MYSTERY! Citing the bible, Julius decides to call Visitor to get more information.

Marissa brings Liz around to see the Birkin. Something weird about the name partner coming in to admire something one of her employees owns, no? Lucca’s hidden the bag but shows it off. Liz is mesmerized by the bag (my guess is even if she had the money she’d never consider buying one-- she says it’s a good investment but idk how much she means that) and Lucca’s really embarrassed to keep explaining why she spent 20k on a bag.

Marissa wonders if Bianca bought it for Lucca. “Jesus, you are a one woman surveillance state,” Lucca says to Marissa after Marissa confesses she’s looked up the price of the bag. She is a natural investigator, yes.

Lucca explains she bought it with the poker winnings, and Marissa calculates that Lucca must have won a lot if she was willing to spend 20k on something inessential. Marissa starts her guess low-- 200k. She finally gets the number out of Lucca (or at least the range it’s in) and tells Lucca she needs to talk to David Lee about taxes and accounting. 

On the one hand, very glad to see Marissa is knowledgeable about this. On the other hand, Lucca and David Lee are both family law department heads, so the implication that David Lee knows the ins and outs of gambling laws as pertain to St. Lucia while Lucca doesn’t know that winnings are taxable. I’m fine with David Lee being better at this than Lucca-- he’s a slimeball and has more experience-- but Lucca shouldn’t have to be told this. And this is the second time this season we’ve seen something similar happen.

(Another reason I’m fine with David Lee being better at the job than Lucca in general: we have seen time and time again that DLee isn’t just good, he is worth compromising the mission of your firm to have on board. So as great as Lucca is, not sure we’ve seen any evidence she is THAT good at this point in her career!)

The racism angle doesn’t work in court because the opposition brings in the argument Adrian was going to go with originally: the swimmer who beat Adrian’s client’s time is trans. Now if he wants to represent his client, Adrian has to be on record saying someone trans shouldn’t be able to compete as the gender they identify with. 

This is one of the more interesting approaches TGF could’ve taken to deal with trans rights, so it’s also one of the more interesting cases they’ve done in a while. This is one of very very few places where there could be a compelling case to look at sex assigned at birth instead of identity. So the writers focus on that, all the while acknowledging that even raising this question is pretty fraught. 

“Okay. From race to trans. Let’s go,” the judge says as we head into the credits. P sure that is not the right language to use but also VERY certain this judge has not fully wrapped his head around the concept of people being trans yet. 

Awww, using a Fountains of Wayne song over the credits is a really nice Adam Schlesinger tribute.The song doesn’t go super well with the credits but this is such a nice gesture I don’t care. 

Something else I like about this tribute is that it dates this episode. The reference might not be as easy to get in a few years, but since the characters can’t address COVID-19 (since all this was filmed pre-pandemic), this is going to be one of the only in-show ways to contextualize these episodes. (I would not be surprised if there is some sort of reference next week, and I am holding out hope for some sort of animated video or epilogue song (like the end of BrainDead))

This episode was written and directed by women! 

Adrian for some reason demands Liz-- and not any of the other black female lawyers at his firm-- join his case. This makes sense if we assume that the default state of RBL name partners is “doing what they please when they please because actual work is for associates and bigger cases are for STRL”. Otherwise it seems like a huge waste of resources. 

Liz immediately understands the optics are important in the case but also to the DNC. 

Adrian goes to talk to Charlotte about the DNC, and his timing is awkward… she wants to move in with him! (I didn’t realize his secret gf was that serious!) But Adrian is worried that since Charlotte is corrupt, she’ll be an issue for his campaign. Here is a thought: don’t take an opportunity that will invite scrutiny into your life but ultimately not lead to any type of lasting success unless literally all you care about is power? Adrian can say no! Of course, if he doesn’t want to say no… there’s his answer to all the dilemmas.

Charlotte understands this better than Adrian does. He promises her “issues” won’t impact his campaign, but he’s gotta know that’s complete bullshit, right? Her issues would absolutely disqualify him. He swears there will be no impact but… LOL. I don’t think he gets to be the one to swear there will be no impact. 

Lucca and David Lee’s meeting, in which David Lee is the right mix of professional and scheming, reminds me so heavily of the great scenes where he handles Alicia’s inquiries about divorce. David Lee was overused in late season TGW but this is reminiscent of him at his best. I’m glad that TGF is using him appropriately.

Here’s something stupid: Lucca spent $20k of the money BEFORE SHE HAD THE MONEY IN HER POSESSION. David Lee realizes the problem immediately. Lucca, astonishingly, doesn’t. Lucca is not an idiot. 

Adrian successfully gets Liz to join him on the case. Case stuff happens.

Julius and Visitor have lunch. Visitor tries to get Julius to play along. Julius continues to resist, then Diane appears. Visitor isn’t scared and threatens Julius and Diane. How else was this going to go? 

Marissa and Jay tail Visitor (this is slightly less ridiculous than the 5x10 Kalinda car chase, but only slightly) and lose him… but find Rachel Dratch, who was also trailing Visitor! Interesting.

Adrian asks Landau about his relationship with Charlotte, without any specifics. Landau gives the obvious response: “Get rid of her. Do it now.” Adrian is like, why? And Landau says “You said there was corruption there.” Yes. This is pretty damn obvious. Also this ends one of two ways: Adrian dumps her and the DNC thing proceeds, or he doesn’t dump her and then the DNC dumps him the second they do some investigative research. 

Alicia is in Lucca’s phone contacts!!!!!! (Maia’s ex, Amy, and Barbara Kolstad are too BUT LET ME HAVE THIS AND PRETEND IT’S SPECIAL.). 

Bianca calls, or maybe Lucca calls (this makes no sense because Lucca says hello first and it says incoming call from Bianca, but we see Lucca scroll through her contacts and Bianca asks what’s up). Bianca wants to do a celebration dinner, on Lucca. Lucca, knowing the power differential, can’t say no. 

Case stuff happens! Liz hates being on the wrong side and refuses to do a redirect!

Ugh the judge misgenders the swimmer. Ugh. 

A bunch of associates present Adrian and Liz with a petition to drop the case because they are on the wrong side. Good for them! 

Adrian says they’re not being hateful, it’s just a strategy. Sure. A strategy that, if successful, will set dangerous precedents. 

Adrian explains he’s actually just defending their client. As always, I don’t find this excuse satisfactory. Do you really need the business of this one swimmer? Is it worth being the one to essentially fight against trans rights? I feel like the answer to that is pretty clear. 

This case may be one of the more interesting ways to discuss if/when sex assigned at birth matters, but when it comes to whether or not Adrian/Liz have to be the ones fighting to count a trans woman as a man… that answer is way, way more clear cut. They absolutely do not need to take part in this. 

I appreciate that Liz is unhappy with this strategy and wants no part of it and admits that the associates/assistants are right. Liz also understands that this is generational and Adrian is like “Liz, I’ve won awards from covering every one of the letters LGBT” in his condescending tone. Liz, correctly, calls him out on basically trotting out the equivalent of “I have a black friend”.

Liz suggests reframing the case and leaving out the “anti-trans tone”. Adrian says “Not if we lose, Liz. Now this is not about politics. This is about rules. Are the Olympic rules fair, or are they not? That’s all.” Man, his tone is so insufferable sometimes. He always seems like he’s belittling whoever he’s talking to. He is also completely wrong here. And, as Liz points out, that’s never all.

Lucca and Bianca have dinner and Lucca still says nothing and still gets stuck with the $3,000 bill. I feel like the firm could probably pay for that as client maintenance? 

Charlotte lists out all the things she’s received as payouts. Some are small-- tickets to the bulls after an endorsement, a friends and family discount at Neiman Marcus after a zoning issue (seems pretty illegal), a speaking engagement for a judge after a favorable ruling… got a Mercedes with no money down… and she fucking bought shares in a tech stock before the IPO was announced. Well those last two seem like trouble. Any of these are potential problems, something involving stock and tech and IPOs? ANYTHING involving her getting nice things like Neiman Marcus discounts and a Mercedes? Those may be smaller scale but people would LOVE to hate on that. So she’s corrupt as fuck. No way out of this. OH ALSO SHE WAS TIPPED OFF ON WHEN TO SELL THE STOCK. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. And this is just what she admits to Adrian.

I wonder if this would trouble Adrian if he weren’t in the running for the presidency.

Adrian asks about 618. Charlotte says it won’t be a problem “because it’s the solution”. ?????? 

I have never understood this relationship and I continue to not understand this relationship.

Case stuff happens.

I’m not sure how Liz’s new strategy is any less anti-trans. She isn’t either, so she gives up mid sentence and sits down, telling Adrian “You want this, you do it.” That’s kind of like taking a stand? I know Liz isn’t going to rock the boat that much, not in the middle of court, but like, how much does standing up for what you believe in matter if all you’re doing is saying you won’t personally do something without fighting further? Liz gets as much of a say here as Adrian and the third person who would get a say is Diane (well, and STRL but shhh) and Diane would 100% take Liz’s side. So how much credit can I really give Liz? 

Does anyone really think someone would just decide to be trans to get a competitive advantage?!?!?! Jesus. That’s wild. 

Diane goes to talk to Rachel Dratch (Linda, here). Even though Jay and Marissa found Linda’s address they didn’t bother to look at her occupation?? She’s a court stenographer and she recognizes Diane.

She knows all about Memo 618 and shares her knowledge with Diane. 

Who is behind it? The Office of Legal Counsel.

How does she know this? Well, there’s a handy TGF short (YAY!!!!!!) to explain.

I love the little joke about how they won’t ever mention censorship in China in the song. Haaaaah.

The Secret Law in the song is so friggin’ cute. I love it. 

The explainer songs that explain largely unfamiliar, complicated topics are the best. And it’s perfect to deploy one here, since this is one of the most crucial concepts of the season and something that most viewers are going to WANT an explanation of. Like, I don’t need an explanation of Downton Abbey or whatever some of the lesser songs of last year were-- but I do want answers about Memo 618.

Is there a good article about some of the real cases of this happening? I assume in most cases Memo 618 is just a stand-in for whatever legal-sounding bullshit was in real memos that secretly shaped the US, but I’d be curious to read more about how this works. 

Linda gives Diane a few examples, like one about FDR and the Japanese internment camps (I did find an article from The Atlantic about an OLC memo from the same time, but not sure if it’s the one being referenced.) I am just going to assume that “M. 618” close up they show is faked. As I said, Memo 618 is more about putting a name to the idea that powerful people can author documents that shape the world but go unquestioned. I don’t think the point is that it was literally this same memo… just the same sort of bullshit.

The “Torture Memos” are another example. I appreciate the show telling me where to look for more information. There’s a ton of info around this.

I don’t believe this lip reader stuff but also don’t care.

And finally this circles back to the claim in 2019 that a president can’t be indicted. Is it a law? Nope, a memo from 1973. This is real and fascinating. 

I think the show’s approach is REALLY working here. It trusts that I can separate fiction (the lip reading, Memo 618) from fact (the spirit of Memo 618, what it means to have an entity that can make its own rules without oversight) and gives me the reference points I need if I want to dig further. It’s a satisfying way to pay off their mystery, and very much in keeping with the spirit of the show.

Linda basically explains Memo 618 as a placeholder for a law. Justify now, create the law later. Yikes.

Case stuff happens! There is a very odd last minute twist here in which the RBL client loses (yay!) but then another teammate is intersex so they try to disqualify her instead??? Wtf? Did we need this?

David Lee has sushi with Bianca and pushes Bianca to get Lucca her money. Bianca had no idea her friends never paid up (did Bianca not pay her share?) and Bianca, who CAN hassle her friends about this, gets on the phone immediately. There’s a funny montage of David Lee being confused by sushi while Bianca gets Lucca her money. 

Bianca asks Lucca why she didn’t tell her she hadn’t been paid! I’m glad to see Bianca cares, but I totally get Lucca’s hesitation. She explains she’s uncomfortable talking about her own money because it feels wrong. Huh, wasn’t she literally always talking about money on TGW? 

Lucca says she’s not sure she can get over this and be friends with Bianca. Because it’s not just money to people who don’t have it. I fully understand this discomfort. I haven’t ever befriended a billionaire, but I get it. I do want Lucca to have a friend though! I think if they’re just candid about this and don’t always do expensive things (and they sever the fact that Lucca is an employee…) they could still be friends! 

OOOH this Piper Vega looks familiar bc her sister is Alexandra Daddario. They have the same eyes.

The RBL client gets to go to the Olympics. Yay? Why did we get this instead of follow-up on the associates’ petition.

Lucca thanks David Lee and he reminds her that he gets money for managing her money. Fair point. But I think he’s got more of a soft spot for her than he cares to admit. Is managing a million and a half really going to help him that much? I imagine he deals with far bigger fortunes on a daily basis. 

Adrian says he took care of his issue, which hopefully means he broke up with Charlotte? He’s all in on the DNC.

Like, I want Adrian to be happy but Charlotte has seemed like a corrupt sexy plot device in every episode??? She makes me actively uncomfortable bc she comes across as a sex object AND ALSO a bad person?? So if they break up… good? 

Lucca arrives home to find a gift on her bed… lots of money. Is this how this arc ends or is there more (/was there going to be more without a pandemic?)

I do NOT like the zoomed out shot of Lucca that ends the episode. She is in such an awkward position on the bed???? It looks like a crime scene??? 

Season finale is up next. I’m sure it’s gonna be weird. And what a title it has.

[ubernoxa]

The Dare

A Guns N’ Roses FanFic

Chapter 8: A List

Chapter Warning: Violence

Her parents were like clockwork, exactly as her oldest brother had told her many years ago.

While her parents were predictable, Mark was not. He was out on a walk when he noticed a figure leaving Delilah’s window. He let a smile escape him and slowly walked over towards her house, careful to not draw attention to himself. She must have gotten a similar talk from her parents as well. He couldn’t help but smile since he was told the news.

He stopped dead in his tracks as she slowly became more visible to him and less of a creature in the shadows. Her hair danced around her as a small gust ran through it. He wondered if she had done her hair to come to see him. His heart fluttered at the thought of her dressing up and coming to visit him. Was he dreaming?

After a few more steps, his heart sank. She wasn’t heading anywhere near his house. Was she running away?

No.

He watch as she waited by the bus stop with only a small purse. No, she wasn’t running away, but she was going somewhere. That’s when it clicked. That’s when he thought he had it all figured out. Delilah was going to see her eldest brother John. He figured she must have ran into him a few nights prior when she went into the bar for the dare.

He was wrong, but he couldn’t think of any other reason for her to go back. The strip was filled with some of the most vile people, and Delilah would never associate herself with people like that, he told himself.

“Hey, Delilah,” Delilah let out a groan of frustration once she heard Mark’s voice. She turned and say him walking towards her.

Fuck.

She took a quick breath and put on a fake smile.

“Hey Mark,” Delilah said walking towards him.

“Where are you going?” Delilah froze at Mark’s demanding tone.

“I’ve gone out for a walk,” Delilah lied as she watched her bus leave without her on it.

“That’s a bold face lie,” He grabbed onto her arm as Delilah tried to walk away.

“Let go of me, plus I could ask you the same question,” Delilah sternly replied attempting to yank her arm away from Mark.

“I actually came looking for you. Low and behold I see you sneaking around at this hour. Honestly, any idiot would know you’re looking for your brother John. He’s dead Delilah. He’s dead to us remember? I don’t care if you spoke or saw him the night you went to the bar with Beth on the strip. He made a choice,” Mark’s grip tightened around Delilah’s arm as he spoke.

How dare he. How dare he talk about John like that. How dare he act like he knows all of what happened. He just believed the lies that were fed to him.

“Stop, that hurts!” Delilah cried as his grip continued to tighten. She looked into his eyes and saw something she could never describe. There was something dark in his eyes. Something she had never seen before.

“Please,” Delilah cried with tears now flowing down his face.

After a few seconds he obliged, but still held her arm in case she attempted to escape.

“Are you free tomorrow?” Delilah was taken aback by his question.

“What?” Mark laughed at her confusion and slithered his hands into Delilah’s.

“I am asking you on a date Delilah,” Mark’s laugh grew louder.

“No,” his laughter stopped at her answer.

“No?”

“You hurt me. You make false accusations against me. You scream at me,” Delilah’s voice was interrupted by the sound of a slap.

He hit her.

Mark hit her.

Mark looked at Delilah who was now pulling away. What was her problem? What was she acting so stupid.

They were meant to be. She had known him since they were babies. They had spent their lives together.

——————-

“Five minute till showtime,” Mags heard as she waited for Delilah.

She sat in the guest house on the edge of her seat waiting for the brunette to come. Something wasn’t right. She should have been here by now.

“She is probably running late or she missed the bus. She will be here soon Mags, don’t worry,” Steven offered just sister a warm smile as she zoned out.

She returned his smile and looked over towards Duff who shared a similar worry painted all over his face.

“Yeah, she probably just missed her bus,” Delilah said a little louder than needed, so Duff could hear.

She knew he had a thing for Delilah. He was the least but subtle with his flirting with Delilah, but she probably didn’t even know he was flirting. The poor girl was clueless at times which was both good and bad at the same time.

“Knock them dead stevie!” Delilah put on one more fake smile as she punched her older brothers

Once the guys left the room, Mags leaned bag in her chair and downed her beer. This wasn’t good. She barely knew Delilah, but she didn’t seem like the type of girl to be late. She told her to be an hour ago.

Seven hells she needed to take the edge off. She needed something to calm herself down. She needed at least a smoke, maybe something more if she could find it.

She eyed the guy’s stuff and after a couple of moments on debating if she should or shouldn’t, she walked over towards their empty cases and other bags they used to carry their crap.

She searched for an entire song until she found something. She opened the neatly folded piece of paper that was in Duff’s case and unfolded it to read.

Was she being nosey? Yes.

Did she care? No.

She expected to see new song lyrics, but it was a list of jokes. They weren’t even that good.

Her personal favorite was one that Duff had actually scribbled out, and Mags was oh so glad she could read it.

Are you a cake because you look Delly-icious right now.

She laughed as she read it out loud.

She continued to scan the list Duff had made. He was lucky she had found it and not one of the guys. They, especially Axl, would never let him live it down.

How do you make Holy Water?

You boil the hell out of it.

I bought some new shoes from a drug dealer last night for real cheep. I don’t know what he laced them with, but I’ve been tripping all day.

Did you know the first French fries weren’t actually cooked in France? They were cooked in Greece.

It was sweet. She continued to smile at the thought of Duff sitting in his room trying to think of horrible jokes to tell Delilah. She appreciated how they were clean, and not about sex or dicks.

—————

“I just need to see her, okay?” Mags said as she drove to Delilah’s house.

Her brother shook his head as he sat shotgun. Their gig had gone smoothly and he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep like the rest of the band, but Mags was persistent.

It was 4 in the morning when she dragged Steven to their car as backup incase she got lost. She had only been there once to drop her off the first night she met, but she did like to boast about how good her sense of direction.

“This cant wait till the morning?”

“No Stevie, it can’t,”

“Why, Mags she’s probably fine. I’ll drive you down to see her tomorrow morning. Why are you so damn worried? You and Axl are just overreacting,” He was confused on why his little sister wanted to drive to check on Mags. She had been on the edge ever since Del didn’t show up. Yeah, it stung but she probably got busy or couldn’t escape.

Steven’s mind then went back to the girl he met back at the gig. He was snapped back to reality at Mags words, “I’m worried because what if she did get caught...she called her mom mother. Not mom or mum or even by her mom’s name like Dorthy or some shit. She called her mother, and you should have heard the way she said it. She was scared of her own Mother. Hell she was shaking the entire time she was in the phone with her mom. It’s not normal.”

“Wait, what did you mean by Axl overreacting?” Delilah raised a brow her brother.

“Yeah he wanted to make sure she was ok. He was worried she got caught. Don’t read into it. He was drunk and he just finished fucking a girl,” Steven causally replied.

The two of them sat silence in the car before they parked a block from Delilah’s house not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

Mags froze before she hopped over the small fence.

“Hey, Stevie stay here and stay hidden. You aren’t exactly.....stealthy in your current state,” Mags whispered as she watched her brother stumble over his own two feet as he followed her to the fence.

Delilah’s room was one that Mags had always wanted. White flowing curtains hung from the ceiling with small colored flowers scattered on them. The bright white desk and dresser contrasted perfectly with the powdered pink walls. She dreamed about it when she was younger, but now as she looked at the pillows that were thrown around the room she didn’t want it anymore.

Mags stopped as she saw a small torn paper on the ground. Mags didn’t know much about the Jesus stuff that Delilah liked, but she knew that this piece of paper, along with all the others scattered on the ground, were ripped from a bible.

Mags hadn’t noticed that the torn paper fell out of her hand when she saw Delilah. Her heart broke as she looked at Delilah’s tear stained pillow. Mag’s eyes followed up to Delilah’s face. That’s when Mag’s heart broke for a second time. A large purple bruise covered her left cheek.

“What the hell,” Mags didn’t mean to say the words out loud waking Delilah.

Delilah shot to the opposite corner when she saw a figure in front of her bed.

“Mags?” Delilah asked trying to hide in the shadows.

“Yeah...sorry...I didn’t mean to startle you. I was worried...,” Mags was interrupted when Delilah brought her into a hug.

Delilah tried to hide her crying, but it was to no avail. Once the first tear escaped, the rest formed rivers as they escaped her eyes. Mag’s mind raced as she tried to connect what had happened as she held a crying Delilah in her arms.

[firelord-frowny]

I saw a Post about like ~symbolism~ in literature and how a lot of folks kinda instinctively balk at the idea of it in a “cigar is just a cigar” kind of way and it got me thinking some thinkey thoughts that i’ve thought for a long time and like 

For the most part I think people who dismiss that kind of stuff so quickly are just, plain and simple, people who don’t care much about writing as an art form anyway. Sometimes literature just isn’t someone’s favorite way to experience art, and so they don’t feel invested in devoting any amount of brain power to interpreting things beyond what they see on the page. And that’s fine! That’s how I am with most visual art. I just say “ooh, pretty” and leave it at that. I don’t really know or care much about the meaning or intent or what certain colors represent or why the subject has a certain expression on their face. I’m sure an actual artist or someone who’s just passionate about art would be all over that shit! Analyzing and appreciating and theorizing. But for me, it really isn’t that deep. Either I like it or I don’t like it, and I carry on with my day. And if someone insisted that it’s imperative that I learn how to ~interpret~ art, I’d probably be hella frickin annoyed. I mean, would it be a good skill to have? Sure! Any skill, no matter how obscure, has the potential to come in handy in life. But like. We don’t all have the time, energy, or ability to become adept in Every Skill Ever. We pick and choose what matters to us most, and we don’t worry so much about the other stuff. So, that’s how I think a lot of folks feel about literature, and I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing that that’s the case. Some people just! Aren’t interested! 

And for me, as a writer, I can honestly attest with 1000% certainty that I never once have intentionally included symbolism of any kind at all whatsoever.... and yet it’s still there. It happens ALL. THE. TIME. where I read over something I wrote years ago and discover large and small ways that I, without even realizing it, used various kinds of symbolism in lots of places. Some examples:

As a character’s mental/emotional state deteriorates over the course of the story, their living space gets more and more cluttered

As a character becomes more detached from their friends and family, their living space becomes more and more barren

A fire (candle, fireplace, campfire, etc) gradually burns itself out as a heated conflict is resolved between two or more characters 

A character’s profession as a photographer highlights his feeling of detachment from the world - the world “happens” around him, but he can’t engage with it. He’s the cameraman - not the subject. 

Golden Gate Bridge representing two opposite things - gates of heaven, and bridge/road to hell 

A character gets abducted by aliens - the character is named after a biblical figure who ~went to heaven while alive~ (I’m honestly BAFFLED at how I managed to coincidentally give the character the name that I did, because I legitimately know jack shit about the bible lmfao. It’s never been important to me to research names before I name a character, because actual parents don’t name their children with foreknowledge of what their future will entail. So I just name them Whatever.)

A character hates thunderstorms. Thunderstorms = unresolved fears and traumas. Thunder/lightning/wind/heavy rain are emphasized in moments where the character must confront their traumas.

A wise, calm character frequently drinks tea. Other characters, when experiencing moments of clarity, are drinking tea, too 

Threadbare bedsheets symbolizing how time wears things down 

Two characters on opposite sides of a doorway - one side, outdoors, is dark and cold and dreary. The other side, indoors, is light and warm and homey. Symbolizes each character’s current place in life. 

An untrustworthy character always approaches people from behind 

A character happens to be standing near a window every time they mention wanting to be free or every time they feel cornered and want to escape

A character who’s turning their back on their friends and family throws away their welcome mat 

A character whose friends and family are never there for them has a welcome mat that still looks brand new after years of no one coming to visit 

Character A allows character B to wear her deceased husband’s coat - character B can still smell the husband’s sweat in the coat. The husband’s presence still lingers in character A’s life.

The steps of the Lincoln Memorial represent neutral ground. I don’t even know why, but all my scenes that take place at the Lincoln Memorial deal with characters meeting there to bury a hatchet between them.

A character, Steven, symbolizes reality. Madison is an untrustworthy narrator bc he’s just fuckin insane, and Nixon is untrustworthy because he’s biased by his feelings for Madison, but Steven’s perspective is always fact-based, and he has very few personal opinions. Steven sets the record straight. 

Nixon = inner peace and unconditional love 

Franky = confidence and authenticity 

Andromeda galaxy = hope for a better future 

Noise = Madison’s current state of mind. Scenes in which he’s overwhelmed and stressed include vivid descriptions of all the sounds around him. Scenes where he’s calm and collected have little to no emphasis on sound.

Madison’s friend gives him a tattoo of a solar eclipse - Madison wonders if he’s meant to be the sun, or the moon in front of it.

Tactile sensation = scenes where Madison feels safe and comfortable emphasize physical sensations like softness and warmth and smoothness. 

Light = Moments of clarity tend to take place in sunlight, especially surrounded by shadow 

Dark = Moments of fear or uncertainty take place in darkened areas 

Characters that bring negative energy tend to stand in a location that blocks light and casts significant shadow 

Characters that bring positive energy bring light into a room, perhaps by opening a door, pulling back the curtains, or literally just turning the lights on

There’s just??? A lot. And none if it is something I do ~on purpose~ in the sense that I didn’t just sit there and go “Ah, yes, this character feels like an outsider who can’t interact with the world, so I’ll make him a photographer.” It just... happens that way. It’s not something I ever consciously practiced or studied or strove for. It’s just what comes out of my brain when I sit and let a scene play out in my head. I emphasize noise when Madison is overwhelmed because that’s just what I experience when I watch the scene in my head. The welcome mat is unused just because when I watch my character coming home and the “camera” pans downward, an unused welcome mat is what I see there. When character B put on character A’s dead husband’s coat and he smelled the sweat, that’s just... what happened! That’s just how it played out in my head! 

It’s not intentional, but it’s there, and it’s there just because it felt like it should be there. And I’m acutely aware that some people aren’t going to catch those things, or they’ll interpret it differently, or they’ll hone in on completely different details that I would have never noticed, but are in fact right there on the page. 

And I think that’s the fun thing about writing and about storytelling and about art in general. We can convey our vision as vividly as possible, we can go so far out of our way to take the reader/observer exactly where we want them to go, but we don’t really have any control over what they ultimately see or think or feel. It could be meaningless to them, or they can draw conclusions you never meant for them to draw. They can uncover your biases and weaknesses and insecurities, your prejudices, your fears. They can completely miss the point, or they can discover things you tried to keep hidden. It’s all fair game. And that’s! What I love about it! What I intend my work to be is obviously important to me, but someone else is only really going to care about what my work meant to them, and it’s almost definitely not going to be exactly what had in mind. I think that’s fuckin great. I think that’s the only way I know how to connect with other humans. 

[dailyaudiobible]

10/07/2020 DAB Transcript

Jeremiah 8:8-9:26, Colossians 3:1-17, Psalms 78:32-55, Proverbs 24:27

Today is the 7th day of October welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today, hump day, another center of the week that we move through…well…once a week, but here we are in the middle of the first full week of this month. And yeah, the Bible is speaking to us. And, so, let's move into that. We’re reading from the New Living Translation this week. Jeremiah chapter 8 verse 8 through 9:26.

Commentary:

Okay. Let's think about cooking. Let’s think about recipe books. Like some of you are like extravagant cooks. My wife would be one in that category. I would be much less in that category, but above just making Ramen noodles. But we’re all over the map. But the thing that we usually need until we become extremely advanced cooking is a recipe. How much of this, how much of that makes this particular dish that I'm going to eat. And, so, just think about some dishes that we might cook up. Let’s say we grab a leaf of sexual immorality and throw it in the pot and then stir in a couple of impurity and then a handful of lust and then a generous dash of greed and idolatry, and then a cup of anger and a half a cup of rage and three quarters of a cup of malicious behavior and then a dash of slander and some dirty language for taste and then a cup of lying and bake that 350 after we whip it up and pour it into some sort of container. How yummy does that sound? And why do we keep eating that dish when there's another recipe found in Colossians today? And the recipe…well…I…I…I mean I made up the amounts, but Paul told us the ingredients. But what if…what if we made need a different dish? What is we took a cup of tenderhearted mercy and poured that over a nice base of kindness with several leafs of humility, a cup of gentleness, a cup of patience, two cups of forgiveness, right, some sprigs of peace and a garnish of love. That sounds delicious. Which dish would you rather have for dinner tonight? Like, they are completely different dishes that will have a completely different taste and outcome, which is basically what Paul’s talking about in Colossians. Paul was saying essentially that Jesus transforms us into a completely different person with completely different tastes and the old stuff that we used to munch on that were…were leading us down the pathway of destruction should be basically abhorrent to us now because it's the food of the dead. Let that roll around in your mind for a minute. But it does bring us to a point where we can think about what it is we’re munching on. I mean, I know that's a metaphor but it's a metaphor the stands. We all understand what we’re talking about here. What are we consuming? What are we putting in ourselves? Because that's what's coming out of us. That's the aroma of our lives. Like, that’s what we look like. That's how it is with us. We could say in this spiritual analogy “we are what we eat”. Ironically what we’re mostly trying to do is have like maybe a cup of impurity, with a pinch of humility, several tablespoons of greed with several tablespoons of patience. Anger mixed with forgiveness. Like these things do not go together. When I was a kid…I can’t remember if it was like Sesame Street or one of the children's programs back then, like, I can still remember all these years later this little, you know, little children's songs - one of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong. Can you guess which things not like the other be…I don’t know…before we get to the end of this song. Something like that. Things that don't go together don't go together and the things of this world do not go with the kingdom of God. And if we just do some self-examination, especially about the…the points inside of us that have so much unrest, if we look at how that got made it might make sense at why it's turned out the way that it is. Maybe we’re trying to make something that can't work. It’s never gonna taste good ever no matter how we try to keep modifying it. Paul’s saying like, “you got a whole new pallet brothers and sisters, a much more refined one, a much better one. You don't have to eat garbage anymore. You are a son and a daughter of the most-high. Come and feast on the goodness of the Lord. And as we concluded our reading today, Paul's like, “whatever you do or say”...in other words…“whatever you're mixing up, whatever the recipe’s gonna be, whatever you do or say, do it representing Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father. That is a great little garnish on the top of the dish but it's actually saying a lot because it gives us a barometer and gives us the opportunity to say can I…can I do this? Could I put this in my recipe for the day in the name of Jesus? Right? I mean we've discussed this before at a different point in the Scriptures, but we look at these things and say okay, sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires, greed, idolatry…idolatry, anger, rage, malicious behavior, slander, dirty language and lying, which of those can we do in the name of Jesus as a representative of the most-high? So, we just have to ask ourselves, can I do this in the name of Jesus? Maybe I'm free to do whatever I want as Paul has told us so many times, but not everything is good. Can I do this in the name of Jesus or is this going to ruin my whole dish?

Prayer:

Father we invite You into that. We have ruined plenty of dishes, plenty of days, plenty of encounters, plenty of meetings, plenty of circumstances. We’ve ruined plenty of stuff by trying to mix ingredients that do not and will not ever go together. And yet You are calling us higher, You are inviting us forward, You are ever patient and You don't hate us because we've made bad dishes, because we’ve made masses of things. You’re just calling us forward. You’re just saying You can do better than that because You are better than that in me. May we recognize that. May we recognize what we are making of our lives we pray in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home, its home base and if you’ve never been home then you should come home and check it out, at least home for the Global Campfire here and check it out if you haven't been in a while. Yeah, check it out. Come check out the Prayer Wall maybe pray for some brothers and sisters. Maybe you’re carrying stuff that you need some brothers and sisters to carry with you in prayer. And the Prayer Wall, that's what it's there for. So, check that out. It's in the Community section.

Check out the resources in the Shop. Check out the Initiatives. Just come check it out and stay connected in any way that you can or in any way that you want to.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, thank you. If what's happening here around the Global Campfire is bringing life to you and encouragement and challenge and forward movement and all the things that can happen as we move through the Scriptures in community than thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if that's your preference, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement 877-942-4253 is the number to dial or you can hit the Hotline button in app, the little red button at the top and share from there.

And that is it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello Daily Audio Bible family this Shelby from Pittsburgh and Brian just want to congratulate you and your family on China’s announcement for this spring occasion of the brand-new life. Your excitement and…and happiness really came through and it just brightened up my day and I think all of us at this time could use some more really happy joyful news. And it really touched my heart. I feel like, you know, I’m going to be another auntie. It’s awesome. Really happy for you guys. God bless you God bless the process and everything. God bless the baby and, yeah, it’s a wonderful thing. Thank you for sharing that with us Brian and I’m very happy to be a part of this Daily Audio Bible family. It is a welcome reprieve from the days, whatever, and I like it because it also helps keep me on track and…and staying in the word of God. So, thank you very much and God bless you and again, congratulations. Goodbye.

Hello, everyone this is Rebecca’s heart from Michigan I’m a first-time caller and been listening to the DAB with my husband Skye since January and we love you guys and appreciate you all. Just wanted to ask for prayers today. I fell a few weeks ago and hit my jaw on a piece of hard metal and whiplashed my neck and spine and that’s…that was right before we went on a 9 ½ hour mission trip road trip to deliver a hand cycle that we fundraised for a new paraplegic friend up in Copper Harbor Michigan. We were able to witness God’s love and care towards Eric and need prayers for his spirit to be opened to be receiving the gift of Jesus love and salvation. We also shared our testimony of our trip with a young couple at a remote campsite named Scarlet and Dave and another young man on a hike named John and we’d like to ask prayers for them that they will come to know Jesus and maybe even read the Bible’s we gave them or listen in to the DAB with us. So, hopefully we’ll hear from them. Besides my own need for prayer and physical healing, Skye and I need prayer for our marriage to be covered by the blood of Jesus and to pray against any attacks the enemy would come at us with. We’ve had three years similar to Job’s story in the Bible with incredible losses but we’re trusting Jesus and need prayers to find us new means of income since Covid and to lead us to where He wants us to be this winter as our landlord is selling our house. We’re asking that when we travel again also in our funky van that God provided He would open the door for us to share Jesus to those we meet along the way.

Hello this is Wonderfully Made Amber from Albuquerque this is my first time calling in a been a listener for a few months now and Daily Audio Bible has been such a blessing in my life and today is the 2nd of October and I’m specifically calling to pray for Lacey from Massachusetts who asked for prayer for her sick dog. That prayer request really resonated with me because I…I have a dog and he is my buddy and companion and I…I couldn’t imagine being isolated and alone without such a companion. And, so, first I want to pray. Heavenly Father thank You for the blessing of this dog in Lacey’s life and Lord You created this little…this little dog and…and…and You…everything is possible with You. So, I asked that You’ll show mercy Lord and favor on this woman and that You’ll extend this dog’s life. He’ll her precious dog in Jesus’ name. And I also pray Father that You will bring more friends, companionship into her life beyond what she has with her dog Lord. This is a hard time of people being isolated and lonely yet there’s still a way for people to reach out to others. And, so, I pray that in Jesus’ name You’ll stir somebody’s heart to reach out to this…to Lacey and to be a friend to her. And lastly Lord I want to pray for healing over her health as well, that You will heal whatever successes, diseases she has and that You’ll comfort her, comfort her and thank You Lord. Thank You for Your mercy and Your grace and Your love and that You never leave us and that You give us good things in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Hello this is the Anthony I’m calling from __ I just did hear my fellow New Englander and she called in from Cape Cod, Lacey I believe she said her name was, who’s calling about her sick dog whose her only companion. Just wanted to pray Lord for…for healing for Lacey’s companion…for Lacey’s dog and more importantly Lord that You use this as an opportunity to just help people, help friends, help the community reach out to her so that she’s assured that she’s not alone Lord because no one…no one needs to be alone especially in these…in these times. We just pray Lord for that community and that she through this, finds companionship in Jesus’ mighty name. Amen.

Good day Duncan the Piano Man it’s October 22nd and I’m remembering you because this is the anniversary of your wife’s death. And I know what it is to go through loss. You know, as I’m in right now mourning the loss of my mom, so I understand and I want you to know that I’m thinking about you, I’m praying for you and I pray that you would have a good day with the friends that you are taking out to that special place to eat and those memories that you will encounter in your mind, instead of bringing you sadness will bring you joy. And here is something I want to read to you it says, “do not weep long. You will weep today for sure I know but don’t weep long. Lift your eyes to heaven and see her in the Father’s arms. She will always be a part of you and remember that where there is love death is never the conqueror because God’s love makes it triumphant.” So, be triumphant today in the midst of your memories. And this is Soaring On Eagles Wings from Canada. I love you and I’m praying for you today. Bye now.

Hello this is Howard from Northern California sitting in the parking lot at Kaiser here just dropped by wife off going in for a biopsy. Need some prayers for the women in my life. Obviously, my wife got lucky getting this biopsy because of the great help from the lady that worked the desk yesterday when she went in for a simple mammogram. And then I also need prayers for my mom, she’s 83. She’s had some stroke issues and she’s struggling and Covid thing isn’t helping, no interactions with friends, she feels alone, scared. I try to get up to see her as much as I can. Her sisters are helping her. It’s a burden on them. So, probably prayers for them for patience prayers, for my three daughters. They all struggle from…a few of them struggle from some serious health issues and my oldest struggles with just trying to make it now that Covid took her job and she’s got two kids and her boyfriend, who he’s not the greatest guy that you want for your daughter but hopefully he’ll step up. So, probably prayers for him too. Thank you. God bless

[dukeofriven]

From An Old Internet Veteran: Go, and Sin No More

I wish I could explain to young people how wild the internet was as it went from the ‘weird niche thing for lame nerds’ irrelevancy of the early 90s and the “Boy This World Wide Web Thing Sure Is Nifty”-style painful optimism that describes 97% of Western Culture between 1994 and 2002 to the ‘Mad Max But Statistically Less Australian” culture that was the internet from 2002 to around 2010. I come neither to praise this era of internet nor condemn it. I merely want understanding. I cannot polish a lumpen pile of rape jokes, Chuck Norris glorification, “ironic” racism, and numa numa fat shaming and say that it’s misunderstood comedic genius. Trash is still trash even if it wins a bunch of Emmys. But at the same time I cannot take you with me back to the 90s and get you to feel, on a visceral level, what it was like to live in a place where Bart Simpson was both promoted as a real and present danger to the moral upbringing of the world’s children and was named by Time magazine as one of the most influential icons of the 20th century. And because I cannot do that I cannot get you to understand how freeing it felt to be on the internet in that Mad Max era. Ten years before a yellow boy shouting “Don’t have a cow” while doing a pathetic kick-flip on a chunky skateboard was considered the potential downfall of humanity’s children, but now you could make something so risqué that the old-guard stuffed-shirt in 1994 would have died on the spot, his brain unable to consider anything so outside his moral world view. I cannot easily make you understand a time when nobody just said whatever it was they wanted, not just because they had no platform to do so but because the rigidity of social convention was so strong. Nobody ever had hardcore lesbian sex on Northern Exposure on prime time television. Nobody on the X-Files ever died by having their head smashed in a car door repeatedly like a melon until viscera spilled all over the pavement. You could not have made Game of Thrones or Steven Universe in 1995. Forget the graphics, forget the budget, you simply couldn’t do or say any of that on television for either kids or adults. The Mad Max internet changed that - changed the very firmament of what was acceptable in media for every genre and for every demographic.  Is this a good thing? Not particularly. Is this a bad thing? Not particularly. If this sound frustratingly ambivalent that’s because it is: were we to go back and do it all again, knowing all that we know now, would we do it the same way? No. But then, we would not know all that we know now had we not learned it by making the attempt in the first place.

This poor comfort for someone who dives into some 2006 webcomic with a reputation of a Legacy Touchstone and finds it full of ‘jokes’ about their gender, or sexual preference, or the liberal use of the r-slur, or a kind of hyper-suburban comedic racial ignorance. I am not here to argue that that had any value merely because it was transgressive. But the same space that opened-up to let such ugly things out also opened-up places for marginalized groups to made themselves known, groups who never before had such public voices.

Imagine an apocalypse. Imagine society rebuilding in the ashes. Imagine how many false starts and missteps there would be and you begin to understand just a little of what that period was like. It was embarrassing. It was cruel. It was childish and stupid. But in living through it we grew up. Or, at least, those of us capable of growing up grew up, and learned, and learned to be better - learned what better was. And then we built new places where other people could learn too - and spread the gospel of being better. One of the things that always irritates me when it comes to young people talking about the past is the unexamined privilege of knowledge being at your fingertips. It’s more than just everyone carrying a wireless-internet connected computer in their pocket at all times. It’s more than just a Wikipedia with hundreds of millions of articles and a reputation for fact sourcing. It’s more than just a Google that works. If you never experienced it you cannot imagine what using WebCrawler was like in 1995 against Ask Jeeves in 2005 against Google in 2015 - or even Google between 2005 and 2015. Most people don’t go around thinking about SEO and search engine algorithms but maybe we should because anyone who wants to go “this info’s been on the internet since day one so people have no excuse not to know it” disingenuously argues that information search and retrieval has been consistent across the decades. There was a time - not all that long ago - when to look something up on-line involved getting the tacit agreement of everyone in your household to lose the use of the sole telephone for as long as you were web browsing. There was a time - not all that long ago - when ‘looking something up’ was to burden everyone around you with inconveniences, and while you were doing your web searches there was no guarantee what you wanted could be found with the primitive technology of the day. Do you know how much I’ve learned since joining Tumblr in 2011? On a fundamental level, both about myself and the make-up of our species in terms of social conception? I recently went through a bunch of old posts, removing those with broken links and meaningless content, but also shit that just embarrasses me now - mostly opinions from a period where I hadn’t yet had a chance to learn because the spaces in which to learn it did not yet exist. It’s not just things like communities for [demographic X] - it’s things like “communities for [demographic X] with an ability to broadcast their voices and have platforms able to network their ideas and audience halls able to receive them and a search engine to guide people to that community and a basic understanding that the community even exists in the first place.” And this does not even begin to touch on internet access, something that even now is not a universal thing, and for which getting angry about people’s ignorance reflects a bias all its own. I say all this because I think that a core tenant of cringe culture is a myth of universal access to knowledge and universal awareness of one’s own ignorance. I look back on old posts of things I said and I cringe with self-hatred - cringe enough to rip them down and stuff them in the trash. “HOW DID I THINK THAT?” and “HOW DID I NOT KNOW?” But why should I have known - what, in my life, would ever have put better ideas across my desk? That I can meaningfully speak now about privilege and intersectionality and historiography is because between then and now I was put in a place to learn these things. I was exposed to ideas that I had never before been exposed to, and was given the grace to learn. I am tired of the expectation that every aspect of our past selves should be held to the same standard as the present. (Yes, to all the disingenuous bad-faith trolls out there, I obviously and of course am advocating for complete and total uncritical pardon for everything in the past ever. Were you a neo-Nazi ten years ago? Water under the bridge without question because that’s obviously, obviously, obviously the sort of extreme outlier case I am talking about good on you for being clever enough to notice.) But for the non-dipshits out there who understand how to read without injecting insincere hyperbole into every argument, I want us to be kinder to our past selves when we have learned to be better. It’s okay that you used to like Sherlock - there were genuinely fun things about it, and it’s okay that you didn’t possess an expert grasp of post-graduate feminist critical theory when you were 21. Or 31. Or 41. More concepts of academia have filtered into mainstream consciousness than ever before - and in saying that we should remember the corollary that ten, twenty, thirty years ago that was not the case. We knew less, had access to less, and were exposed to narrower viewpoints than we are today. It is unfortunate - but it was not our fault, and we cannot easily blame ourselves for it any longer. Nothing makes my blood boil more than seeing people taking umbrage that... oh, Farmer Joe McSmithHead of Buttnut, Alabama in 1963 was ignorant of internal Chinese politics and said some untrue things about Chinese Communism. But the only thing Farmer Joe had to tell him of the outside world was a radio that played country music, a TV with four channels and strict content guidelines to only show pleasant, moral, and god-fearing content, and the three books in the Buttnut library, two of which were the Bible. There have, and will always be, certain moral lines so obvious that people of any era should always be held accountable to them. But above that, in the more trivial space of media consumption, absorption, and critique, we have to learn to be more forgiving - to ourselves and to others, so long as in the present we have changed. Did you use the r-slur a lot because it was practically a form of punctuation on 4chan and that’s where you learned the ways of the internet? Did you learn the harmfulness of this practice and cease to do it? Then I do not condemn thee - go, and sin no more. Did you and your friends used to make jokes about how Mexicans smelled because you saw Seinfeld do that in his standup and the whole TV laughed as though it was funny? Did you realize one day ‘wait a minute that’s actually super gross’ and stop repeating it? Then I do not condemn thee - go, and sin no more. Have you gone back to a beloved childhood property and found it’s full of woman-beating and weird views on homosexuality? Did you find yourself able to critique this beloved thing and did not defensively double-down on shielding it from all harsh words? Then I do not condemn thee - go, and sin no more. I will not allow us to dismiss the cruelty and hurt of Mad Max Internet Culture with a flippant ‘well that’s just how it was back then” but nor will I allow anyone to condemn us all as being consciously unfeeling, willfully ignorant, purposefully hateful. Some of us were. But some of us did not know, could not have known, needed to learn - and we were lucky enough to live in a time before cringe culture and cancel culture where we were allowed to have that opportunity to learn and grow. We need that today, for all young people who think themselves as woke as can be and ten years from now will look back and blush with shame for things they said and did in total ignorance. The sin is choosing to never change, not failing to change sooner.

[she-is-tim]

I love hating you | Elu enemies to lovers AU | Ch. 4

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Lucas is an angry, closeted and frustrated gay teenager, while Eliott is the handsome, smart and popular guy in school. They hate each other… but not forever.

I don’t think I deserve this

Saturday morning was cloudy and cold, but Lucas couldn’t be happier. He started the day by doing his chores that was listed on their chalkboard Mika hanged in the living room. They kept switching the tasks, so no one gets bored of it. Later the day he joined Lisa on the couch, she was watching some weird documentary, but Lucas couldn’t care less, he was on his phone basically all afternoon, chatting with Eliott. Thankfully Mika was working, so he wasn’t asking questions about his happy behavior. 

srodulv Idriss and Sofiane keep trying to peek over when I’m texting you They are being annoying

lucallemant I kinda get them, you should be focused on studying, not texting me Not like I want you to leave

srodulv You would be missing me, and I can’t stand a sad hedgehog

lucallemant Too much confidence you got there, Demaury

srodulv I think I have good reasons to be sure about some things ;) 

lucallemant How do you know the boys, btw?  Idriss is older than us for sure

srodulv I am older than you too I had to repeat first year of high school

lucallemant What? I had no idea

srodulv Things happened in my life, so... It’s not important, but I was going to their school in first year But we are friends since middle school

lucallemant Well, at least now we’re in the same year

srodulv Haha That’s true Okay, I gotta go now, these two are driving me crazy

lucallemant You can do it! Saturday is almost over 

srodulv And I’m missing you so damn much

lucallemant Stop being so cheesy We spent hours together yesterday

srodulv It’s never enough time with you

lucallemant G O   T O   S T U D Y   E L I O T T 

srodulv Yes, ma’am

Lucas smirked at his phone for a few more minutes and put it in his pocket after Eliott didn’t say anything else. He loved to talk to him all day long, but he was with friends and he had to study too, so he couldn’t be selfish, asking him to keep texting. He might not be the smartest kid in school, but he knew that Eliott didn't do much studying all day, since he kept replying to him within seconds. 

Monday came way too slow, Lucas spent his sunday with studying and doing homework. He wasn’t on his phone much, but Eliott was also busy, so it wasn’t a big deal. In the morning he packed up his bag and left for school with Manon. They were planning to meet up in the common room before classes, just to chill and eat breakfast. The girl spent almost an hour in the kitchen this morning to make sandwiches for them, she was carrying it in a basket, while Lucas had two bottles of soda in his hands. 

“Seriously, Manon, It’s just monday, why are we having an indoor picnic?” He asked, his hands were numb from holding the bottles.

“We are halfway done with the common room, this is a little celebration.” she said excitedly and walked into the room, holding the door open for the boy.

They joined the others at the table, it seemed like they had some serious topic to talk about. Lucas put down the bottles and went to the shelves to get plastic cups for everyone. Meanwhile Manon put down paper plates and the basket full of sandwiches. The girls seemed to be really happy and continued their talk while eating. Lucas sat down next to Manon, chewing on a sandwich. Since friday he could only think about Eliott. He kept seeing him when he closed his eyes, he could clearly remember his smell and the feeling of his fingers on his skin. 

When his phone started buzzing, he felt his heart beating faster. Eliott haven’t texted him since sunday and he missed him so much. He was right back then, Lucas was one really sad hedgehog without him. All those feelings he had for this boy were overwhelming. He unlocked his phone, checking the message he got, but it wasn’t from Eliott, it was his mother. 

From Mom For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them in chains of darkness to be held for judgment; [2 Peter 2:4]

Lucas took a deep breath and inhaled slowly. The girls were too busy talking about some sports event that will be on this friday, so they didn’t notice his reaction. He haven’t recieved a bible verse from his mom since a while now, it usually meant that she is doing bad. He knew that the nurse his father was paying took good care of his mother, but it was still frustrating to think about her feeling bad. He also haven’t seen her since months. Son of the year, clearly.

He excused himself and walked out of the common room. Students were already walking on the halls, so he decided to go to the bathroom and tried to call his mother. He spent there 10 minutes, but she wasn’t answering. Lucas got really worried now. He quickly looked for the number of his mom’s nurse and called her. He was walking around in the bathroom until she picked it up.

“Hello?” her voice was soft, calm. It didn’t seem like anything was wrong.

“Good morning! I am Lucas Lallemant, I wanted to ask about my mom.” he explained, talking a bit too fast, but hoped that the lady understood his words. 

“Oh, Lucas! I haven’t heard from you in a while.” she said softly, this was still not convincing the boy that things were okay. “Your mother is reading right now, we just had breakfast and she took her medications. But why is the sudden call?” 

“Nothing...” Lucas mumbled, feeling bad because panicing over such little stuff, but also because he haven’t met his mother in a while now. “Nothing, I just wanted to know if I can visit her after school.”

“That is a wonderful idea, I think she would like that. She’s feeling much better lately, we talk a lot and she told me a lot of stories about you.” she answered softly, which made Lucas’ heart feel warm. Knowing that his mother was able to talk and tell stories of his childhood meant that she was really doing better. 

“That’s great, I’ll go there around 17:00 after classes.”

“We will be waiting.”

“See you then.” he said and hung up, letting out a relieved sigh. 

He leant to the wall next to the bathroom stalls and looked out the window. Everyone was slowly coming inside from the yard as their classes were about to start. He was looking for one face, one messy hair in the crowd, but he couldn’t find him. Eliott might have already gone to his class. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. Stop thinking of him, Lucas.

He walked out of the restroom now, ready to start his day. On his way to the lockers, he met Imane, she seemed to be looking for someone. Lucas stepped to her, smiling softly. Imane was a great friend for him and they always studied together for biology. She was sassy and confident, almost the exact opposite of Lucas. 

“Hey! Are you looking for someone?” he asked softly. The girl looked at him, a small smile playing on her face. Okay, this seems suspicious.

“Yeah, I was looking for you actually.” she said and handed him a carefully folded paper. “My brother gave this to me. Eliott asked him to get this to you.” she explained with now a wide smirk. Lucas felt his face burning, stomach turning. He couldn’t find the right words to say both because he didn’t wanted Imane to suspect anything and because he was deeply worried why was Eliott sending him a letter, not a message. 

“It’s not what...”

“Don’t bother.” she said raising her hands. “It’s not my business, I just didn’t know that you are friends with Eliott now.” she said crossing her arms, looking curious. “I mean you were talking shit about him like a month ago.” 

“We were just assigned for a school project.” he mumbled, lies coming out of his mouth without thinking about it. It was so natural for him to cover things in his life to make situations easier. “It’s probably just a note I left at his place.” he shrugged, trying to play cool. 

“Okay then, I was just asking.” she said.

“Why didn’t you gave it to me earlier?” Lucas asked now curiously. They were all in the common room, she could have handed it to him there so she wouldn’t need to look for him.

“I figured it’s something that the girls shouldn’t know.” she said seriously. “I mean... Daphné is still a bit gone for that guy, they wouldn’t let you breathe if they would know that you are close with Eliott.” she said.

“And you also don’t wanna let them know that your brother and him are friends, right?” the boy asked now with a half smirk, while Imane rolled her eyes. “I totally understand. Say thank you to Idriss for me.” he said and walked to his locker now. 

He slowly unfolded the paper, it was a drawing and a note under it, well actually two drawings. One of them was a sad hedgehog, looking at his black phone screen, the other one was a sad raccoon with a suitcase in his hand, waiting at the train station. Lucas felt his stomach turning, looking at the letters under the drawings, slowly reading the sentences.

“Dear Lucas

I am so sorry I haven’t texted you for a whole day, but something happened with my family and I had to leave Paris. Hopefully I won’t be away for long, but I am not gonna be able to use my phone. I’ll let you know when I get back. Damn, I wish I could have say goodbye to you in person, but I really had to leave quickly, I barely had time to make this letter, but I feel like this is what you deserve. Don’t worry too much, okay? I can’t stand a sad hedgehog, you know that. And maybe you can surprise me with something when I come back. I am going to miss you... I am already missing you

Sincerely A very sad raccoon”

His handwriting was beutiful, that is the first thing that got to Lucas’ mind, then he kept re-reading the sentences, trying to take in all that information. So Eliott had to leave urgently, that’s fine. He had no time to contact Lucas, which is also fine. Then he fucking decided to draw and write a letter to him. This guy was far too much into romantic stuff and Lucas was there for it. He put the paper in a safe place inside his bag, making sure he won’t lost it. He smiled as he walked to his first class. Eliott cares about me. 

After his last class, he was packing his stuff from his locker into his backpack. He wanted to reach the first bus to visit his mother. He was preparing himself for that all day. His mind was filled with imagined conversations, fearing that his mother will question him for not visiting her. He was really nervous, but also excited. He wasn’t in a good relationship with his father, but he always loved his mother even when she couldn’t be the mom Lucas wanted. 

As he stepped out of the building, he almost bumped into his friends. Arthur and Yann had to listen to some stupid story Basile was rambling about. He stopped speaking when they saw Lucas. The short boy smiled at them, being frustrated on the inside, because he knew he wont make it to the first bus now, not like he had to wait much for the next. He just really wanted to see his mother.

“Hey, Lulu! Haven’t seen you all day.” Yann said, pulling his friend into a quick hug. Lucas sighed, enjoying the moment of his best friends kindness. 

“Yeah, I was pretty busy with classes and helping the girls in the common room.” he explained, hugging back his friend before he pulled away, Arthur gave him a fist bump.

“You were with the girls?” Basile asked with sudden enthusiasm. “Were Daphné talking about me?” his eyes were wide open, hoping for a positive answer. Lucas totally forgot that his idiot friend is now having a crush on his sweet Daphy. Of course he liked and supported Basile with all heart, but he also wanted the best for his blonde, overexcited friend, which wasn’t being Basile’s girlfriend. 

“About you? No, I don’t think so.” he said honestly.

“See, Daphné doesn’t give a fuck about you, dude.” Arthur said, he was always there to tell the truth to Basile. “You gotta find yourself a girl that can appreciate you.” he said, squeezing his friend’s shoulder. The short boy smiled fondly at them, it was nice to hang out with the boys like this. He haven’t had much time to do this before because he was too afraid they will notice he’s different. 

“We were actually planning to go to my place and order pizza.” Yann said now, looking at his best friend. “You should join us.”

“I would love to, but I am actually going to visit my mom.” he said softly. “I am already a bit late.”

“Oh, did something happen?” Yann asked with a worrying tone in his voice. He was always there when Lucas needed help because of his mother and the boy couldn’t be more grateful for that.

“Nothing in particular. I just haven’t seen her in a while.” he said honestly. “But you guys have fun.” He smiled and fistbumped with them, then walking to the bus stop.

The afternoon with his mom was really nice, she wasn’t lost in her thoughts like she used to. Lucas told her about school, how classes going. He was talking about the common room and how she made friends with the girl group. It was nice to tell all this to someone who had no idea about them, he noticed how much he adores the girls and their friendship. Of course his mom asked if she like liked any of the group, but he said no confidently. They are like my sisters. And his mother seemed to be satisfied with that answer and didn’t ask more questions about her son’s love life. Lucas had no idea how much he needed this mother in his life. A caring, understanding and nice person who he can tell about his days, his friends, his classes. He wished he had the strength to tell her about his sexuality... or more likely his thing with Eliott. Is there actually a thing between us, though? 

It was late, almost 20:30 when he left his mom’s house, getting on the bus. He read Eliott’s letter again, staring at the drawings for long minutes. This heavy feeling in his chest didn’t wanted to go away, he was really worried and missed this handsome guy, his stupid texts, his soft words. He remembered how they almost kissed twice. He got goosebumps just by thinking about it. 

Days went on so slow Lucas felt like he was suffocating. He spent most of his time with studying or helping out the girls, anything that could keep him occupied to not think of Eliott. But when the nights came, everything rushed him at once. It was killing him slowly. He felt like he’s never going to come back. 

Somewhere around wednesday the boys started to talk about a party, then the girls were talking about it too, because Emma was hosting it. Lucas felt like it will be a good way to drink and forget his emotions, so of course he agreed to go with them. Since he haven’t heard from Eliott since 4 days now, all he wanted is to get drunk and not feel anything. He hoped that Arthur brings weed to the party, he was his savior all the time, even if he didn’t know that. 

He tried to put on some nice clothes, dark blue jeans, grey t-shirt and a denim jacket. Usually he would just put on a hoodie or his favorite blue jacket, but he kinda wanted to look good today, no specific reason. He tried to get his hair in some sort of shape, with very less success, so he just dropped the case within ten minutes. When he was ready, he texted the boys and left the flat. Manon was already there, helping Emma all afternoon to set things up.

Lucas was on the bus, checking the group chat with the boys. They were going crazy, because Yann told them that the girl he likes accepted his invitation to the party and they probably gonna meet up tonight. The boy smiled at his phone, congratulating to his best friend. He looked out the window, he was almost at the stop that was the closes to Emma’s house, when he got a message, it wasn’t from the boys, it was an instagram DM. His heart skipped a beat, his lips were dry, his stomach turned in that few seconds when he opened the app to see the message.

srodulv I got off the train, waiting for the bus. Do you wanna meet up? I need you

Lucas was struggling for only a few seconds. Eliott was so direct, no teasing, no playing around, he straight up said he needs Lucas. He got off the bus as soon as it stopped and thankfully could catch the ride to the other direction before it left the stop. He felt so many things at once, not knowing what to think. His hands were shaking, but he had to text back to Eliott, so he won’t be thinking that he left him on read.

lucallemant On my way

He wanted to scream at the driver to go faster. He didn’t know what was going on, but Eliott wasn’t feeling good, he could tell even through text. When he got to the right place, he jumped off the bus, he didn’t see Eliott anywhere, so he checked the time. It usually takes 20-25 minutes with bus to get to the train station from this part of the city. Eliott only texted him 14 minutes ago. The waiting was pure agony, he walked in a few meter radius up and down. His hands were sweating and shaking. He jumped when his phone started buzzing, but it was only the group chat with the boys.

Arthur Hey, Lucas, you should be here by now.  Where are you, dude?

Yann Is everything okay, bro? 

Basile Don’t fuck this up, man! There are hot chicks!

Arthur Lulu?

Yann Can’t you just answer?  I see that you read the messages

Arthur What is wrong with you?

He sighed and closed the chat for now, he couldn’t deal with his friends, not now when he was about to see Eliott. His stomach felt so tiny, he barely could breathe, he kept licking his lips, because they were so dry. He should have sit down, but he couldn’t stop his legs, if he settles, all the emotions will rush at him at once and he either cries or throw up. Not a good way to welcome his handsome... what is Eliott to him exactly? He shook his head.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he only noticed the bus when it left. He stopped his moves and looked at the boy standing in front of him, just a few meters away. Eliott put down his suitcase, he seemed exhausted, so tiny. He was hunched, pale, even more than usual. His eyes were red and the circles around them looked much darker, like he haven’t slept for days. He was looking at Lucas, hands in his pockets, like a scared animal. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but then closed it, looking down.

Lucas was feeling so many things at once. He felt joy, because he missed this boy so damn much and it was good to have him back. He was worried, since Eliott looked like he have been through hell. He also felt insecure, because he didn’t know what was going on his head. When the tall boy looked at the ground, Lucas made his decision. He looked around, making sure no one was on the streets. It was getting late, friday night and this was a really calm part of the city anyways. He then started walking, almost running, jumping on Eliott, wrapping his arms around the slim body. 

Eliott was shocked first, but then he pulled his hands out of his pockets, sliding them on the short boy’s back, burying his face into his neck. Lucas stroked him gently, enjoying the smell of Eliott he missed so much. They were standing like this for long minutes, then Eliott pulled back just a little, still keeping the small one in his arms. He touched his forehead to Lucas’, looking into those deep blue eyes. 

“I missed you so damn much.” he whispered, voice sounded harsh, like he haven’t drank anything for a long time. Lucas slowly put his hands on his face, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m here now. No more sad raccoon or sad hedgehog, okay?” he said softly. Deep inside he felt like Eliott needed soft, reassuring words right now. 

“Okay.”

“I’ll stay with you.” he whispered, stil stroking the other one’s face.

Eliott looked at him, deep into his eyes. He looked like he was crying not too long ago and that was breaking Lucas’ heart. He couldn’t bare seeing him like this. He looked so small and volunerable now, almost like a lost raccoon. He took a deep breath, slowly reducing the distance between their lips. Eliott noticed this and closed his eyes, holding the boy closer by his waist. 

Their kiss was slow at first, tasting each other, making sure it’s okay for the other to do a bit more. Then they got out of hands, tongues dancing between opened lips, hands going everywhere, not knowing where to grab. It was strong and passionate, full of deep feelings. This long time apart made them crave for the other, wanting more and more. For long minutes it was just them, no one else existed on this world. Everything around them ceased to exist, the buildings, the street, the bus stop, all of it. They were in their little bubble of happiness. Then suddenly rain started pouring, getting them wet. 

They both pulled back, just a little bit to look into each other’s eyes, laugh like kids. Eliott seemed to be better now, his eyes were glowing with excitement. He gave a soft kiss on Lucas’ wet lips. Their hair was dripping, their clothes started to get soaked as the rain was going on more wildly. The tall boy grabbed his suitcase with one hand and Lucas’ wrist with the other, starting to run towards his apartment building. The small boy laughed , trying to keep up with the speed of Eliott. 

The door slammed behind them loudly, Eliott let go of his suitcase, wrapping both of his arms around Lucas, kissing him wildly. The boy giggled into the other’s lips, sliding his fingers into his wet hair, pulling him even closer. Their clothes were sticking to their body, making them feel each other more. They started to slowly dance towards the bedroom, trying not to stumble while still kissing and holding onto each other. Their kisses were sloppy, full of giggles, teeth bumping into teeth. 

Somehow they managed to get into the room, falling on Eliott’s bed after taking off their wet clothes, only leaving on their underwear. Lucas was laying down, Eliott above him, kissing his neck now while his hands were stroking his sides. The boy shivered, letting out a little moan. He had never felt so good with anyone, not like he ever tried this with boys, but he knew that this was special, that Eliott was special. 

Hours passed, now they were just laying in bed, Eliott was resting his head on Lucas’ chest, tracing little circles on his skin with his fingers. They haven’t talked, though the short boy had a lot of questions, he knew that he can’t force him to talk. It was nice to just lay like this, quietly, peacefully. Forgetting about the stupid party, about his friends, focusing himself on this gorgeous man in his arms. He played with Eliott’s hair a little. It was still a bit wet. 

“I thought you are not gonna come.” Eliott mumbled into the silence after a while, Lucas opened his eyes, fingers still playing with the other’s wet hair. 

“I wasn’t thinking... I was worried, you were so serious in that text.” he said slowly, kissing the top of Eliott’s head softly. 

“I don’t think I deserve this...”

“What do you mean?” he asked now concerned. He didn’t like how the tall boy was talking about himself. Usually he was the most confident person Lucas has ever known. He can’t be saying things like this. 

“Laying here, in your arms.” he said, raising his head to look into the boys’ eyes. “I am not good enough for this.” 

Lucas sighed, he put his hand on Eliott’s face, stroking it gently, rubbing his red, puffy lips with his thumb. He had so much to say, but couldn’t really put it into words, so instead he just gave a slow, lustful kiss to him, making sure that he gets what he’s trying to say. You deserve this. We both deserve this. We need each other. 

Eliott gave in after thirty seconds, leaning on Lucas like a hungry predator, grabbing his waist as he deepened the kiss with him. His tongue asked for permission and when he got that, he spent long minutes exploring the other one’s mouth, pressing their body together, skin touching skin. Their bodies fit so well like they were made for each other and in that moment Lucas felt like that was the truth.

They fell asleep like this, legs and arms entangled, Eliott resting on Lucas, wearing only boxers. Both of them were happy and they didn’t wake up until 11:00. Lucas slowly opened his eyes, not being sure first where he was, then he felt the heavy body on himself and started smiling. He buried his face into the messy locks, taking in the smell slowly. It was so unbelieveable that he was waking up in bed with Eliott Demaury. A few weeks ago he didn’t even wanted to hear his name and now he was holding him, smelling him. 

“You really like sniffing me, huh?” Eliott said suddenly, scaring the small boy a little. He looked up, smirking at him. “You are such a curious hedgehog.” 

“And you are one really annoying raccoon.” the boy said, making an angry face that got the other one to laugh.

“You are so adorable.” he said, kissing his lips softly. “I never wanna leave this bed. I wanna stay here with you forever.” he mumbled, caressing Lucas’ cheek gently.

“We can stay here... I don’t wanna leave either.” he said smiling, kissing Eliott’s palm. “I haven’t had such a good sleep in a really long time, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” the tall boy smirked, kissing his neck gently, biting it even. “So only the sleeping part was good?” he asked playfully. Lucas chuckled and run his fingers through Eliott’s hair. 

“You know that is not what I meant.” he said softly, kissing his forehead, then his nose. 

“What did you mean then?” 

“I feel good with you. I can’t really explain this... this week was absolute hell without you... I know that it’s stupid and I tried everything to get over my feelings, but...” 

“No, don’t say that.” Eliott said, suddenly leaning over the small boy, hands resting on the bed, looking at him with those stormy blue eyes. “I don’t want you to get over this. I wanna plunge into it... I don’t care if it’s a bad idea... I don’t care how, I just wanna be with you.” he said seriously, even shaking a little. Lucas wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him down for a lazy, gentle kiss.

“I want this too. I’m not sure if I am ready for it... especially not in public... but as long as you kiss me, touch me or look at me like this... I don’t want anything else in this world.” Lucas whispered into his lips, looking into his eyes. A bright smile appeared on Eliott’s face, making his dark circles disappear, he looked so young, carefree and happy. The small boy totally loved that smile, he would do anything just to see it again. He pulled him back for a soft kiss. I could get used to this.

[askmerriauthor]

Because @oldroots is apparently going to start playing Shadowrun soon, it reminded me of my old game and the character I ran in it.  I’ve shared D&D characters before, so let’s do it again with some different systems.

Shadowrun “Captain” - no given name the party ever knew.  Captain was a Dwarf Rigger who was more cybernetics than man.  The DM warned me that having too much metal was a bad thing and my response was “I don’t need a soul, I need chrome” so that should give you an idea of where my mind was with this guy.

Captain was never seen by the party at any point.  He was constantly jacked into his van - which had been heavily modified to be a mobile slicing rig and looked like an emergency medical vehicle on the outside.  Because he literally never left his van, he communicated with the outside world entirely through sliced computer systems, drones, and holographic projections of cutesy mascot characters.  The game was unfortunately short-lived so I didn’t get much chance to get into major hijinx with him, but Captain’s theme was too much fun for me to ever forget.

Call of Cthulhu “Bonn Douglas” - hired gun.  This was in a fast-and-loose Call game where it was a mix of Cthulhu mythos, Hellraiser, and a few other more obscure horror themes.  The DM was a big horror buff and loved to genre blend, so it made for a really interesting running story.  Bonn was a mercenary agent - hired muscle who specialized in firearms and demolitions, brought into the Big Scary House as part of a bodyguard team for the party of intrepid investigators.  Having been involved in a lot of Really Bad Shit™ already, Bonn didn’t scare easy and tended to be pretty blase about the encroaching supernatural horrors that welled up around the whole party.

Things really came to a head when Bonn took up a sniper’s position to pick off some weird ocean zombies who were making their way up from the shore.  As he looked through his scope, one of the zombies made eye-contact with him and, as the DM specifically stated, Bonn mentally experienced “a psychic onslaught of the worst, most horrifying events that your mind both can and cannot comprehend”.  Lost a TON of Sanity on that one, but Bonn was still trucking.  From that point on, however... he was immune.  Again, fast-and-loose game; the next time the DM asked for a Sanity loss, I said “Why?  This is just some weird looking critter.  You said yourself that I’ve seen FAR worse already”.  The DM liked that and ran with it.  So Bonn, while being mad-yet-functional, proceeded to be an anchor for the entire group as he was the only one who could reliably wade through all the nightmarish events without turning into a gibbering mess.

Bonn is also the only Call of Cthulhu character I’ve ever played who basically won the game.  As in, the party ended up getting their sorry asses sent to R'lyeh itself and everyone except Bonn died there.  Bonn was able to call on a favor from the Cenobites (Hellraiser is in this game, remember) and get himself bamf’ed back to land.  While there he actually saw Cthulhu itself but, as the DM said, he’d seen worse.  Thus Bonn lived and actually ended up returning in the next campaign as an older, more grizzled veteran of occult shit to help mentor a new team of investigators.  Bonn actually ended up dying in that second campaign (small room + skeleton golem + grenade + poor rolls = AMAZINGLY GRUESOME DEATH), but his demise was not in vain.  But his death shredded the last thread of Sanity for a character in the party who he really hated, so I counted it as a win.  Plus the Cenobites snatched up his soul, so it’s technically possible he might still be able to come back canonically in a future game.

All Flesh Must Be Eaten “Father Jacob” - the only holy man amid a gaggle of miscreants during a zombie apocolype.  For those of you unfamiliar, All Flesh Must Be Eaten is a great little game that focuses on zombie horror survival, where all the player classes are based on movie tropes.  So our party had folk like “The Jock”, “The Movie Nerd”, and so forth.  I played Father Jacob, a fire-and-brimstone priest who carried a bible in one hand and a shotgun in the other.  In this game system, only religious characters get what’s basically magic for the setting and I really wanted that sweet HP-restoration in a game where I knew we were going to be hurt by literally everything around us.

Things went along as well as zombie invasions ever do.  The undead rise up and begin slaughtering folk, our gaggle of survivors are forced together out of necessity, and we try to escape the city while avoiding getting eaten.  Didn’t work out so well - we didn’t lose anyone on the way but kept getting injured or drawing attention, so it all culminated in the group making a mad dash down the coastline with a horde of zombies hauling ass after us (they were fast zombies, so yay).  One of our party decides to go by the old adage of “you don’t have to outrun the bear, just your slowest friend” and promptly shot another party member in the legs so the zombies would swarm him alone.  Father Jacob was having none of that.  He’d stuck close with the party through thick and thin that entire time and wasn’t about to let things end with treachery, so he turned around to get between the shot party member and the horde, planted his feet firmly in the sand, and got set to make a roaring last stand.

...so you can imagine his confusion when the Zombies completely ignored him and continued on their merry chase after the rest of the group.

It was a huge WTF moment around the entire table and I was just as baffled as anyone else.  The zombies simply weren’t interested at all in killing Father Jacob.  Seeing this, the party member who’d shot our buddy started to slow down thinking maybe the zombies wouldn’t hurt him either.  He IMMEDIATELY got dragged down and torn apart, so karma.  As things wrapped up, the DM revealed to us that the zombie invasion wasn’t due to super science or some ancient curse - it was a religious apocalypse.  The dead rose to devour the sinners of the world and Father Jacob was literally the only person in the party who had faith, so he was spared.  He’d never been in any danger the entire game but we never realized it because we all stuck close together no matter what.  So I guess I won that game too?  ^^;

[eturni]

Day 8: Choir

Day 8 of @drawlight​‘s  advent calendar challenge. https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/189391982184/drawlight-drawlight-aziraphale-crowley-for Today is choir in which I muse (likely incorrectly) about how choirs of angels work and there are scenes in both Bethlehem and 2023 London.

Also I... may have got carried away and this one is a little longer than usual.

The thing about angels was that all of them could sing. To one end or another. It was why the idea of heavenly choirs was so deep in many humans’ psyches.

The thing about angelic choirs was that angel song was not like human song. The passed missives across the heavens, they called love and war and creation and destruction. Most importantly they conveyed emotions and intentions to humans who could not understand the grand depth of knowledge that their words alone held. Fear not. Gloria in excelsis deo et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis. Hallelujah, the smoke from her burning is a pillar to heaven.

The point is, of course, that all angels were part of a choir or another and all angels could sing but that the song was the intent. The song was the feeling.

The demon Crowley had not sung in almost four millennia. There had been halting, scratching wails when the demons first fell that were almost singing but for the cloying ruin of boiling sulphur against their vocal cords. Many demons gave up there and then.

The demon Crowley was a well-known glutton for punishment when it came to pushing against the bounds of what he was told he could do. He had not stopped singing there and had instead worked his throat into shape even as the denizens of the new-formed hell scrabbled for power and influence and built up the form of what would be. Every one of his songs had been a dark, jagged thing: railing at being forced out for thinking for himself or rebelling still against the boxes he’d been put into as both an angel and a demon.

Read on A03 (likely the safer option for this one) https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/51813601 or:

And then there had been the apple. Crowley found the tree of knowledge and had enough inkling of what it would mean. Naturally their Mother would punish humans for the sin of Knowing. For wanting to be more than placid innocent dolls. He sang then; not with the power of a choir but with a soft, coaxing sweetness that imparted enough of his own Knowledge that Even could choose if further knowledge would be worth their punishment.

And then there had been a wall and an angel atop it and a wing to protecting against the first rain.

Crowley had watched after Aziraphale, leaving his spot on the wall towards where the first true death had happened at the end of his own heavenly-issued sword. He had watched this very strange angel and he sang.

It was love, of a sound he had never made in heaven. It was no love of their Eternal Parent, it was not the love of his purpose or of humanity or his brothers and sisters. It was a sound that was small and uncertain but grew into the space around him and permeated the garden he had yet to leave. It was a sound that almost filled out the hollow space in him but left the corners that it missed stark and barren in contrast.

Crowley stopped singing soon after that, especially when he was too near to Aziraphale. Being close happened a lot in the early days, of course, when there were so few humans to tempt and protect. Every time he was close enough to feel the angel the new song bubbled up in his chest; slowly changing and filling more of the emptiness and in direct contravention to everything he was and everything Aziraphale called him.

It became second nature to not sing. To push it down. To close his throat against lyrics and chords and eventually the words, the terrible human words, that he found very nearly matched to what his song wanted to impart.

It was a terrible thing to bear, a song that no heavenly or demonic choir could ever join to. The feeling his alone in a way that a non-human’s voice should never sing alone.

His few attempts at singing did set him in better stead for when the first Christ was born (not the one that set the whole Armageddon in motion – heaven’s one). Midwinter may be a bit of an odd time for there to be young lambs but there were shepherds on the hillside regardless and there was a heavenly choir and the whole of Bethlehem was so crawling with angelic auras that Crowley couldn’t make out where Aziraphale might be.

He had been about to duck out of the city altogether and give up his tempting of the wise men as a lost cause when he’d all but tripped over the poor young lass chosen to give birth to the man of the hour.

He ducked into a stable as his ears rung with the praises to heaven and stumbled into a young woman giving birth with no more support than a lone carpenter and a couple of very confused animals.

She’d been bearing up surprisingly well as such a young woman in her first labour but had taken one look at his serpentine eyes, dark clothes and taken a breath to obviously start screaming.

“Glory be to God for the birth of your wondrous child.” The song leapt from his lips as an imperfect echo to the choirs outside. It was discordant and it tasted foul like blood scratching up Crowley’s throat but Mary relaxed regardless. Then further with the next word out of his mouth. “Midwife?”

The birth itself went miraculously well for one literally conducted in a stable and mum and dad had been so relieved that they let Crowley hide out in the corner as the presences around them slowly started to diminish. He was so on edge that he completely forgot that he was supposed to derail the sages from getting there until they were already in the blessed stable.

At that point he gave it up for a bad job and spent his time teaching Mary how to get the kid to latch on properly and making sure she got herself fed. They needed an adversary for their adversary so it wasn’t exactly <i>undemonic</i> after all.

- - - - – -

It was years later (millennia) that Aziraphale sat with Crowley in the back room of the bookshop a handful of years after the failed apocalypse and sat staring into his glass of mulled wine thoughtfully. By this time there were a few more windows in the bookshop that were topped with an array of plants; most of which currently wore little santa hats. There had been nothing Crowley’s cleaning habits could do about the chaos of the shop because it put off customers but they’d done a decent job by now of turning each of their own spaces into something a little more shared.

“You know, Crowley,” the demon perked up immediately at Aziraphale starting a conversation with his name and that lilt to his voice “I never had much to do with Christ himself. The birth was such a pantomime and those much higher up than me got all the significant jobs to do. They tended to just say that I’d get in the way, especially after the apple fiasco. Longest agent on earth and they sent me off to make sure that the star would stay in the right place. As though it were just going to disappear.” He shook his head and took a few fortifying gulps of wine.

Crowley pulled a face but knew by now that it was easier just to let his angel ramble and get there in his own time unless they were on a deadline. “Yeah but they were always like that. Never knew what they had in you.” He smirks a little at the unspoken unlike me.

Aziraphale tutted and shook his head. “No that’s not- I mean that’s very kind of you but that’s not my point. The point is… Yes, the point is that there were a few accounts that never made it into the bible. About the birth itself. Well, of course you know about the extra gospels yourself so it’s not all the birth, but you understand my meaning.” Crowley nodded, though he really did not understand the meaning at all. He was hoping Aziraphale would get to it still. “There was one from Mary herself, you know. Almost entirely ruined with age and poor preservation but nothing that a few years of some very careful miracles couldn’t help to restore. You know she mentioned an angel who actually helped with the birth. And one who seemed ‘much reduced in the ostentation of their song’.”

Crowley stilled and very carefully nodded. “You got there after all then?” He hedged, despite the knowing smile that was growing on Aziraphale’s face. “You always were better at speaking with humans. Not that you’re good at it, mind. Just better than angels that have never met a human.”

“Well, quite. I’m certain that this being was a lot more informal than even I could be. And well versed with human needs.”

“Hng. Any idea who might actually be better with humans than you?”

“Oh, Crowley, do give over. My point is that I was wondering if you really do sing my dear.” Aziraphale absently looked over to the tree stuffed in the corner and wondered if he should be darkening the wings of the angel on top. He was sure it would give Crowley some kind of kick at least.

Crowley sighed deeply and rolled his eyes, his head and his spine until he was laid out across the comfortable couch with a dramatic air that the Georgians would envy. “Not really. Had to get out of a tough spot.”

“Oh but you, can. I always thought it was something that was lost in… and I just… well it’s always a tough subject to broach, you understand.”

Crowley huffed and beckoned Aziraphale over with a crook of his head. The other came and Crowley revelled, just a little, in the simple pleasure of placing his legs over the other’s lap and knowing that he wouldn’t be denied. “I can sing but I don’t. There was- I don’t sing the same any more and I wasn’t certain about it. The things that come out… I’m still not sure about them so it’s better to not. I mean, it’s supposed to be sending messages from Her anyway, right? That’s not my job any more.”

He hedged, just enough explanation that he hoped Aziraphale would drop it without leaving him so intrigued that he absolutely had to follow up with questions. Unfortunately he was watching his angel and could see that glint in his eyes and the slightest shift to pleading that told him he needed to run now or be prepared for the angel to ask him something he could never be prepared for.

“Oh my dear, I’m certain that whatever you have to impart is much more significant than any other angel or demon They aren’t on our side after all.”

Crowley felt his ornamental heart stutter for a stop at the moment. They’d had some time, of course, but it still did things he couldn’t express to hear Aziraphale so freely and enthusiastically claim his side as their own.

It was enough to make something like anxiety settle in his stomach and send his heart at double the pace when it finally remembered how to beat because he’s was suddenly actually considering this. If they did truly have their own side he had to wonder if this was safe. If he could do this and dare to hope that he wouldn’t be pushed back, that it wouldn’t be too fast.

Then Aziraphale’s hand was on his knee, calm and steadying and a touch too hot when he was already just this side of flustered. “You don’t have to my dear. I just wondered but I wouldn’t want to push this.” The smile he gave Crowley was pure angel. Kind and understanding.

Crowley gulped and shook his head. Then nodded. Then realised that he wasn’t certain what either response really meant. He licked his too dry lips and opened his mouth.

In the place of words there was song.

The song wasn’t any human language and was not even enochian in such a sense. It was a different beast altogether; as much it’s own harmony as any tune and as much a feeling as any words.

It lasted perhaps six seconds before the demon couldn’t stand it any longer. He was about to close his mouth when Aziraphale’s hand squeezed his knee convulsively and another voice joined Crowley’s.

It was perfectly in balance. A celestial harmony against his demonic tone that balanced into something purely…

Purely theirs.

Almost human and not.

The only other being who ever stood a chance to understand the six millennia of feeling in Crowley’s spirit and he did. It mirrored it almost perfectly.

He finally dared to look over (he didn’t have much of a choice as his eyes had snapped to the other without checking with his brain first) and found Aziraphale all but glowing, in that way that only he could, and with everything Crowley had not dared dream of open in his eyes and his voice.

They formed a choir of just two and the song of it reached out through Soho and into London and lit the hearts of the people it found with something that they couldn’t comprehend; only feel.

[this-nightmare-doesnt-exist-yet]

Living on a farm upstate where the flowers used to grow [part 1]

Warning: this is a cosmic horror short story series. Be prepared for death, blood, and strange themes of children, growth, and motherhood, ect. It’s a work in progress.

................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

It started in the spring. It is not too uncommon for an animal to be born with defects but this was different. At noon on a Saturday, a live five headed calf with twenty-three eyes was birthed from an average healthy cow, on a family farm at the edge of town. When word spread weeks later our small town was flooded with scientists and reporters alike. They all wanted a glimpse of the fabled ‘calf of end days’. 

Every man, woman, and child knew well of the words the bible spoke, supposedly straight from the very pursed lips of God. With such sayings as ‘the horns of Satan grew in woven tandem with humanity’s wrath and ignorance’ and ‘flesh and bones of the dark in lay the tilling of the earth in a rotting harvest’, the sight of the beast was underwhelming enough that we didn’t think much of it. Sure it was unnerving at best, but to say the truth it was not any worse than what a person could find in one of those bazaar shock magazines with the hoaxes mysteries. For what most people thought it might as well have been faked. Ripply himself carried more ‘dark energy’ than what this veal had. Then again we were blind.

Days came and went, six months later the farm and the calf fell out of style, and the farm was left bankrupt. The owner was seen less and less. 

The second part came five years later. The town had been experiencing an alarming wave of people going inexplicably missing. It wasn’t like it was too small but the place was noticeably getting smaller. A kid by the unfortunate name of Richard Handy, came running home like a man on fire after having broken into the then abandoned farm with his friends. He fell screaming and crying at his mother’s feet, a nasty gash down his leg. Richard’s parents called law enforcement upon hearing that some of his friends were trapped at the location. the little information they were able to decipher from Richard’s terrified babbling was not enough to prepare them for what was at the farm.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Mary, the wife of Nathan the local butcher was the first of the mothers to have fallen prey to the curse. At midnight she birthed not a human child, but a live rabbit. Five more such births occurred on the following weeks. Fear stricken and ashamed the couple slaughtered the young and sold the meat as any average rabbit would have been. It was only when Mary gave birth to the first malformed animal did the news break. Laying between her legs was a dying rabbit, gutted and twisted as if it had been mauled by a house cat. The Doctor was perplexed to say the least, and given the evidence provided, he assumed it was a hoax. 

Every woman who ate the meat from the shop got pregnant like this and the animals birthed became more monstrous each time, until it was all just writhing fleshy mystery parts and the mothers died.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I was called out to investigate claims of a squatter at one of the houses on the outskirts of town where an old lady lived. She was in her eighties and on her own inhabited this place.

She was a stingy woman that had a sneer of curdled milk. To put it frankly: she was a bitch. I would not hesitate to hesitate on calling a hospital if I found her injured on the ground.

 If I haven't mentioned​ this already: I am a cop.

       So I drove up to her house and tapped on the door, immediately I my gut tells me something is off. But I push the feeling aside.

She opened the door and just stood there. I asked her if I could come in and she hissed a no. Confused on why I was even sent out here, I asked if she had called. Something in the air changed and the elderly gateway goblin let me in. 

The place was freezing. It was relief from the sweltering heat outside. 

The house had one level and five bedrooms​, and no fucks given about tornadoes. The walls were covered sporadically with blank sticky notes.

           We sat down across from each other. 

I questioned “What am I doing here?” 

“There is somebody in this house. I need you to stay the night to catch them when they come out from their hiding spot. They have been poisoning my food and water.” she stated crankily.

I stayed the night.

On any other day I would have left after she did and act as if I had stayed, but something was telling me I needed to be there.

Once she was gone I took some time to look around. Two of the rooms in her house were filled to the ceiling with unused baby items like diapers, food and clothing. This only got more concerning when I entered a different room that was an actual baby room with a crib. I peek into the crib and there was a large grotesque doll in place of an infant.

 I can say I left that room unsettled.

        In the kitchen the only food was junk. The cabinets were packed with chips and sweets. It was as if she had never even heard the word 'vegetable’ before. I have insulin problems so I didn't have any of the so called food. I instead sat on a couch in the living room. Everything was coated in febreze spray, not an inch was spared. I thought for a moment that she may have just been poisoning herself with all the nonsense I had seen, and been imagining things loopy on air freshener.

That was until it hit midnight.

          The clock struck twelve. 

The first thing I noticed was a change in the air.

The once cool and floral air had turned into a hot and humid dredge that smelt of rot.

I pulled my shirt up over my nose and mouth in an attempted to block it, but it didn't help all that much. It was like something large had died in there and the cooling was broken.

I got up off the couch and sped to the exit. It was locked from the outside. The door knob was on the wrong side in the way that I would need a key to open it. I pounded my fist on the door to test if it was real. Suddenly all of the sticky notes flew off the walls and swirled in a cyclone. Eye balls opened out of the structure of the house, chipping the paint away to reveal a red fleshy mucus membrane beneath. Angry that I had awakened them from their sleep.

The flipped entry got sealed over by a meaty layer at the whole space shifted. 

I was panicking. Soon it's entirety had me trapped in a beating flesh cube. I was frozen with terror. After an indeterminable amount of time a pucker formed in the muscle of the ceiling where a light had been. There was a squelching noise as sludge seeped out of the divot. I stared disgusted as it did this for a while before a large mass covered in slime was shot out and hit the ground. The eyes still watching me, I walked cautiously towards the mass.

I was the baby doll from the crib now face down into wetness. Not knowing what else to do I reached for it.

             I know now that was a bad move.

No more than two seconds after picking it up it swiveled it’s​ head round back to face me. 

I screamed and chucked it away.

The thing stood itself up and slowly opened its mouth. This was made worse by the fact that it was not a toy made for this and it had razors in place of teeth. It  then spoke.

“You should never have come here.”

It's voice sounded old and distant like a scratched record player.

I had gotten to a point of fear where I was now numb to everything happening and I wound up yelling “Don't you think I fucking know this already!?”

The toy spoke again now slightly hesitant.

“You were never meant to exist. Humanity is a lie.”

The message didn't get through to me because I had become really pissed off “DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A SHIT!? I didn't want to come out here in the first place! The person you should be doing this how speal to is not me, it's that old bitch who lives here with all the dusty candy! Jesus Christ! I would not even be here if it weren't for my damn pay check!”

We stood there in silence for a moment before it said a soft and frustrated “Get out.”

The flesh peeled away and showed a fixed door.

I shouted a thanks for nothing as I walked out while simultaneously flipping off the place with an arm raised in the air.

That was not my proudest moment.

               After I got out of the house the exit was forced shut. Everything was relatively normal outside.

Back at the station the woman called to tell me that she wished I would die because I left before she came back. I hung up the phone. She was never heard from again.