#and seeing her younger self in joseph and his reaction

[hangingoffence]

i like to think that caesar figured out that joseph was lisa lisa's son at some point but didn't comfort neither of them about it bc the way lisa lisa talked about her dead husband and lost son

[josefavomjaaga]

Unlike most people on tumblr I’m not an artist. And I’m also not a historian, I don’t even really have much interest in history as such. But I had done some writing as a hobby when I was younger, and over the years had pretty much given up on it.

I work in Munich, and in 2014 or early 2015 we took part in a guided tour through the city center. The guide we had was excellent, and when we were close to Munich Residence she told us a funny story about that one Bavarian princess who, on Napoleon’s orders, was forced to marry some horribe Frenchman, about how she cried and fell unconscious in order to protest - and how she immediately changed opinion as soon as the guy was there and turned out to be the love of her life.

Seeing as this “horrible Frenchman” was Napoleon’s stepson, and as I take an interest in father-son-relationships, I was hooked in several ways. I had heard the story before, but not in much detail. The more I read about them now, the more I started to realize just how many funny anecdotes and crazy characters there were in an era that history lessons at school had presented to us as a horrible time, filled with nothing but war, blood and sorrow, and in particular how funny this Bavarian royal family (royal by Napoleon’s creation) was. So I started writing again. Just a short story about this funny engagement between Eugène and Auguste. Maybe twenty to thirty pages... or possibly 70 ... okay, a hundred...

The whole thing got totally out of hand and probably would have remained unfinished just like all the others. But in April 2016, I broke my leg. Badly, needed two surgeries and took me several weeks before I could get back into work. And during that time I finished this story. Some 700 pages, too wordy, badly written, but mine. I later wrote two other novel-length stories but that one is still the one I love the most. I had it looked over by a professional editor as much as I could afford, who cleaned it up and made it at least somewhat presentable, and then I had it self-published. Because I’m still damned proud of it (as I only realize now 😁).

And ever since then, I’ve been hanging out in the napoleonic era. @joachimnapoleon​ introduced me to the Murats (because what I head learned about them from the Beauharnais side was not precisely flattering), I came across @maggiec70​‘s beautiful, beautiful book on Lannes that had me laughing and had me crying and totally turned me into a Lannes fan, I dusted off my 30-years-old school French so I could read more sources, and while trying to learn more about Soult I’ve recently encountered Joseph and try to find my way through what goes for his correspondence and through my mostly negative reaction towards it.

In short: I’m weird, nice to meet you! 😁

Idk if someone asked this already and if they did my bad, but how did yall get into the Napoleonic era? I'm curious to know how yall got into this rabbit hole that's Napoleon and the events surrounding him.

My story might not be interesting but my first introduction into the community was by seeing a video by Oversimplified on Napoleon (this was around late January of last year). After that I began researching surface-level info on Naps and was starting to become fascinated with what I was reading. On February I drew Naps for the first time and the rest is history. Like I said my story is NOT interesting AT ALL!!

I even remember the day (Feb 11) cuz I was listening to this song on repeat while working on the drawing and now whenever I listen to that song it reminds me of Naps haha. Enough if me, I wanna read yall's story!

[yyuangss-main]

— A 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑 asked: i was reading your josuke fic and i so liked the concept of the 𝐉𝐎𝐉𝐎'𝐒 being 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. can you do the same and maybe some 𝐉𝐎𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄 reacting to you, her girl best friend, saying you like one of her 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 and maybe her rating approval? also i know you didn’t add 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 and 𝐆𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 in the story but do you think they can be in the mix too? at least johnny you might find it hard with gappy.

— A 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐘 from the 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑: Hello lovely! I always viewed Johnny and Gappy as cousins of the Joestars when doing this AU. For these headcanons I will be making Jonathan, Johnny, and Joseph triplets.

𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

“He’s the only acceptable brother. I’ll allow it.”

She is very pleased with your choice and there is nothing to disapprove of. Jolyne knows how kind and respectful Jonathan is. As the eldest brother, he wants to put a good example for his several younger siblings. There is nothing but good things to say about him. With that being said, Jolyne is 100% certain Jonathan will treat you right.

Her rating approval is a solid 𝐓𝐄𝐍 out of 𝐓𝐄𝐍. What else would it be to the man with the whole package?

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

“If you like horse boys, go for it.”

Between the triplets, Johnny is more quiet and keeps to himself. The fact you broke him out of his shell well enough for you to like him is a miracle in her eyes. Johnny has been called trustworthy, much like Jonathan, and many view him honorable too. She might not have the best relationship with him, but she can rely on him to treat you well.

Her rating approval is an 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 out of 𝐓𝐄𝐍. He lost those two points due to his “horse addiction”.

𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐇 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

“You’re joking, right? Out of all my brothers, him?”

She thinks he’s an absolute DUMBASS and sometimes hates the way he overreacts. She claims him to be childish and will probably try to talk you out of that crush. Cue Joseph in the background doing nothing but prove her point further. Until she realizes you’re locked in, she finally gives up.

Her rating approval is a 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 out of 𝐓𝐄𝐍 with a “But you’re on thin fucking ice” added along.

𝐉𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐔𝐉𝐎

“What do you mean you like Jotaro? I don’t even like Jotaro.”

She will probably burst into tears the moment she realizes you’re serious. That’s her reaction. Jolyne is absolutely mortified and doesn’t understand how you like him. Sure, he can be nonchalant, but his tough delinquent manners get on her nerves. Jolyne will refuse to watch you be his good girl to his bad boy.

Her rating approval is a 𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎 out of 𝐓𝐄𝐍. There’s no she’ll let you date him with his attitude she hates.

𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐀

“Fine by me. But let me know when he gets annoying so I can rough him up a bit.”

Though not said, Jolyne views Josuke as the second best option. He’s one who stands up for his friends or for someone he loves. She can walk around with the certainty that Josuke will take care of you. She knows you’ll be praised and given love. If not, let her know and she’ll set him straight. Josuke is her favorite brother, no way she’ll see him go down the drain.

Her rating approval is a 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 out of 𝐓𝐄𝐍 due to him being loud and obnoxious with Okuyasu while she’s on the phone.

𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀

“I’m very proud of you. You’re giving me more ways to tease him.”

Giorno is also one who has the self righteous mindset. With him around you, you’re guaranteed to feel comfortable. Third best choice if she’s ranking them. Giorno is quiet and he has always been one to hear out others. He realizes his mistakes so she knows he’ll do whatever it takes to make things work with you. She is very happy with your choice.

Her rating approval is a 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 out of 𝐓𝐄𝐍 because she claims you’ll starve since he served them undercooked noodles one time.

[orionares]

BTHB: Ambush

BTHB: Ambush

NCIS: Los Angeles

@badthingshappenbingo

-------------------------------------------------

Deeks

Weakness.

That's the best way he can describe the feeling that's been permanently scarred in his psyche since he was a child. The feeling that's drowning him every passing moment Kessler isn't in jail or preferably dead, the same feeling on the twelve hour flight to rescue Kensi in Afghanistan or the times he hid under his bed during Gordon John Brandel's numerous abuse towards his mother.

It's also what he feels now, lying on his back bloodied and barely conscious under the low flapping of an approaching helicopter . As Investigator Marty Deeks takes painful, sharp breaths , he recounts the four bodies scattered throughout the cabin around him who had ambushed him on a drive back from a surf and kidnapped him.

Two by the door, downed by two shots from the Smith & Wesson semi automatic Deeks had wrestled away from a third figure, laying in a heap near the door.

The fourth, laying at Deeks' feet with the ghost of the greedy, smug smile on his face.

"H'lp," He chokes through the blood and spit he can't bring himself to swallow. He can feel his eye swelling by the second along with the burning sharp pain with every inhale and exhale.

"....Federal agents!"

Relief at rescue should be the emotion he feels. Relief should annihilate the weakness he feels after being kicked, punched and dragged, dragged , like a worthless doll across the floor to be tortured further.

Relief at the recognition of Sam's commanding voice and the cabin door flying open doesn't erase being clobbered by shared hits across the face from his kidnappers.

"Jesus Christ."

"Oh my God- Baby!"

Tears burn in the corner of his eyes and finally fall when his wife's hands gently pat a lock of blonde hair matted with dried blood. Kensi's face is blurry in the small slit of vision in his right and eye.

"I'm going to end Westfield. Deeks, can you hear me? We're here! You're safe."

Safe can't cover the dehumanizing snarl from the three humans he had fought tooth and nail to survive. It definitely cannot cover the smirk from the scruffy mid sixties man sitting handcuffed at the boatshed.

The leader of the small back of drug runners responsible for moving shipments across the state and killing two Petty officers.

The man with blue eyes that match his, although decades older.

His father.

---------------------------------------

Callen

"You do know," Admiral Killbride warns via video call,"that you will not go in and harm our suspect the moment Blye and Hanna check in."

He sighs as the team's lead continues to pace the length 9f the table in the boatshed like a hungry cheetah circling its prey. The lack of reaction doesn't bode well for the admiral sending Fatima to 'support' Callen, also known as preventing a possible murder.

A not entirely blameless murder based on Westfield's a.k.a Gordon John-back-from-the-dead Brandel, orchestration of Deeks' ambush and kidnapping.

On the other end of the call, Grisha Callen glares at the small hall leading to the interrogation room, protected by two agents. The leadership ingrained in him screams that assaulting two fellow agents to get to the 'father'- the man that's supposed to protect and care for his child- won't help Deeks.

His phone goes off with a loud chime that grabs his attention. A text from Sam arrives with short, brief statements- Got him. Hospital. It's bad. They beat him.

Callen shoves his phone across the table and plops down in his chair. His leg bounces violently as he scowls down the closed interrogation room once more.

He cannot go in there and beat the life out of that man for nearly killing Deeks, he cannot-

"Mr. Callen."

Hetty's voice appears on his right and he nearly jumps out of skin, a rarity for a season agent. She stands in the open space in front of the stairs in her trademark dark suit, hands crossed and an unreadable peer at her agent.

"They got Deeks but Sam said-" Callen spits out before Jetty finishes for him, " it appears that they beat him. Badly. "

"How are you so calm?" He snaps and then sighs. Henrietta Lange walks to his side and pats his shoulders in a comforting manner that neither comforts nor fuels the homicidal mood he's in towards Brandel. Her expressions remain stoic and a touch pensive as she states,"Things are never what they seem, Mr. Callen. Head to Providence Saint Joseph in Burbank and meet the others there. "

Callen's shoulders sag at Hetty's answer-intertwined on riddles, hidden message and on a suspicion fueled by his gut, a warning resembling the old spy game. He pushes himself from the table and forces the calculations needed to drive the thirty miles to Burbank.

And how to feign ignorance to whatever Hetty decides to do next.

-----------------------------------------

Kensi

Flying over Los Angeles is supposed to be beautiful.

Once, Deeks had rented a helicopter ride over the city at night ten months into their marriage to fly over the downtown area. There had been no rhyme or reason for the sudden trip until they had landed with an overly chatty pilot and Deeks had sighed and told her seeing the city without death hovering over them was a nice change.

Now, the twinkle of lights towering over the sea of travelers heading home on the interstate don't register for Kensi. Even over the loud chopping blades, all Kensi can hear is Deeks' painful, whistling breaths.

She's supposed to think when this is over and he's safe, she'll admit that running across a warehouse floor past and dropping to her knees at his battered, bloodied body rivaled Mexico.

But the shared conclusion amongst the pilot, the medic, Sam and herself is that his father hired three men to beat and torture his only child.

The child that shot him three decades ago.

And that alone brings the fear- did Brandel tell these men secrets about Deeks? Did they tear into him between the kicks to the ribs, the strikes to every part of his body?

Kensi looks up to the monitor hooked up above the hospital cot. Ten minutes out- the pilot had yelled sometime ago. Deeks' heart beats relatively steady considering the wheezing under the broken ribs and the undetermined tremors that pass every moment or so.

He's still alive, drifting in and out of consciousness , based on what she hopes to be movement from his cupped hand and not a hallucination.

It's the after- Deeks' support and love doesn't hide the fear of Kessler, the fear of not being able to provide her a family and the lingering self criticism from training at FLETC. After this is over and Brandel never sees the light of day, they will sit down and talk and truly check in.

And she'll wrap her arms around him and never let him go.

------------------------------------------------

Sam

“Move.”

“Agent Hanna, I can’t -” the young NCIS agent that stands in front of the interrogation room with both hands up in defense. The man is about six inches shorter than Sam, fresh faced and younger than Sam by at least a decade. Sam raises an eyebrow when the young man quickly scans him for anything in hand or waistband that could be used to ‘talk’ with the man handcuffed behind the door.

“I will move you,” Sam growls in a low voice, “ if I need to. That man needs to answer questions regarding kidnapping and torture of a federal agent-”

The young agent briefly straightens as if mustering a bit of strength before sighing, “I have my orders from Admiral Killbride.”

Approaching footsteps stop him from snapping at the young agent. A hand tugs at his bicep before Callen’s voice breaks the tension between the two. “Sam,” the lead agent directs, “Come on- we can’t.”

Sam scowls and backs away from the now wide-eyed agent. He follows Callen to the end of the hallway before snapping, “You okay with this?”

“You know damn well I’m not,” Callen replies exasperatedly. He scratches the back of his neck and glances back to the large video screen. “You strangling an agent isn’t going to help things.”

“If it gets me closer to Brandel, I don’t care!” Sam hisses. He eyes Callen’s impassive expression and recalls part of the creed he had taken to be a Navy SEAL.

I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates.

“That man went after my little brother,” Sam admits in a softer voice. Westfield’s absolute disregard for his only child reignites the desire to ‘chat’ with the suspect. “They beat the hell out of him, G.”

Calllen’s jaw tightens but he manages to maintain a calm voice as he says, “I know. As much as I’d like...the best thing we can do right now is be at the hospital for Deeks. Sam, we will do everything to make sure that Brandel doesn’t get anywhere near Deeks again. Alright?”

He should agree and move forward, but until Brandel is behind bars, secured and suffering, he won't settle.

He can't.

------------------------------------

Brandel

Somehow, somehow, the brat is still alive.

Gordon John Brandel, now Westfield, scoffs at the innocent looking NCIS agents driving the transportation van that he's handcuffed in. The wooden bench in the back of the van reeks of wet dog, oddly reminding himself of the last time he'd been engaged in anything auto related with the police.

Car accident- Faking a death in a sparsely populated area is much easier than it should be.

The van lurches forward onto a gravel road, rocking the van slightly side to side. The rest of the drive lasts a minute before the vehicle jerks to a stop and both agents slide out of the driver and passenger door without a word.

"Is this supposed to be some sort of theatrics?" Brandel laughs. He is answered with silence for a long moment before the side door opens and a small, older woman with a leather purse over her shoulder peers up at him.

"Who the hell are you?" Brandel snaps. The woman's face is unreadable in an oddly eerie way.

"My name is Henrietta Lange, the operations manager at the Office of Special Projects," the woman replies. Brandel quickly glances beyond the small woman for the other agents and comes up empty.

Did they disappear like a ghost?

"You took one of my people," Hetty adds with a hint of anger in her voice. "You hurt one of my people."

"I took the little sh-"

"That's Investigator Deeks to you," Hetty cuts him off quickly. Brandel settles back against the side of the van. On any other day, he's sure he'd flick the tiny woman and go on his merry way.

Hetty steps closer to the van, enough for her purse to rest on the van floor. "I wanted to alert you that you lost. You tried to break him apart but Mr. Deeks is one of the strongest people I know. He is a husband, a brother, a future father and one of the many who protect this country. You, Mr. Brandel are nothing."

Brandel cocks his head to the right and growls," You don't get to speak to me like that."

"That requires respect, Mr. Brandel." Hetty slides the purse strap off of her shoulder and pulls out a red soft material wrapped by black string. "Which you lost the moment you first hurt your child.You are nothing and I want you to remember that during what happens next."

Brandel watches Hetty lift out a small vial from her bag. His stomach begins to tie into knots. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Henrietta Lange's expression finally changes into a calculated smile.

Oh. He is so dead.

-----------------------------------------

Hetty

Her little ones are all sleeping scattered in Deeks' hospital room .

Hetty Lange approaches the foot of the bed and sighs at the heaviness in her shoulder blades, metaphorically and realistically. Callen and Sam are sleeping side-by-side in chairs against the wall, both with arms crossed and chin tucked down into their chests.

Kensi sleeps soundly with her head resting on the edge of the bed with her hand extended out to her husband's side. Just as she had in Mexico, she keeps watch over her husband with the same vigil he had after Syria and Afghanistan.

Each protecting the other. For life.

Hetty walks to the opposite side of the bed in a small opening between Sam’s outstretched legs and the edge of the bed. Her view of her once detective now investigator is limited but enough to paint a picture of his injuries.

Bruises line the Investigator's jaw and across his shoulder blades. Above his left swollen eye, a large gash is covered by white bandage.

She can't even imagine the bruises and cuts on the rest of his body.

Hetty rests her hand on his and feels the anxiousness subside slightly when his finger twitches slightly in response. The operations manager chuckles softly," Oh, rest, Mr. Deeks. You've had a nightmare of a day. Rest.”

Hetty takes another glance around the room at her resting agents, inhales slowly before adding, “Your father has lost, Martin. Don’t forget that. And he will never, ever, lay a hand on you again. I should have made sure of that last time, but now, I’ve righted my wrongs. He won’t touch you- that’s a promise.”

[gio-is-writing]

This is my late 100th birthday Joseph fic!! WAAAA I was so excited all year and it finally happened; the man, the myth, the legend has turned 100 years old!!! Congratulations old man, we love you so much // also i know i missed iggy!! but this is 40 years after part 3, no way a dog can live that long 😔 he lives in out hearts 

Summary: The crusaders come together to celebrate the old man’s 100th birthday.

Warnings; none, Everyone Survived AU, neutral reader, Pol can walk here lol, Marina is Jotaro’s wife, pretty wholesome ngl

A Hundred Years.

(Y/N) received the invitation from Jotaro for the crusaders to come together and celebrate Mr. Joestar’s 100th birthday in Japan. Kakyoin offered to help planning something simple but meaningful while Polnareff promised to get on a plane as soon as possible on his way there. Jotaro was the one to bring out the invitation and informed them that originally it was just going to be Jotaro’s family but not every day you turn 100 and what better surprise than the complete Crusaders, right? He was also the one in charge of distracting Mr. Joestar out for a bit under the impression of picking some important stuff up while everyone else sneaked into the house.

Polnareff and Avdol arrived early at the airport and after leaving their things at Kakyoin’s place to stay a few days they stopped at (Y/N)’s apartment to pick them and some other stuff up for today. Both Polnareff and (Y/N) shared an emotional and exciting reunion while Kakyoin and Avdol shared a more relaxed and calmer hug. Receiving a message from Jotaro saying he left with the old man, they made their way to the Kujo Residence.

Holly received them at the door, they greeted her while carrying all kinds of things to use and decorate a little bit and make it feel like a real celebration. As Holly guided them through the house to the room they would use, she kept talking about how excited she was for her father’s reaction. Walking into the room there were three women there already; Suzi Q, Marina and Jolyne.

“That can’t be Jolyne!” (Y/N) almost screamed, last time they saw her she was a child.

“Hello (Y/N)!” she responded standing up to hug them happily.

“Marina, how was the trip?” Kakyoin smiled at his best friend’s wife as he sat down.

“Quite exhausting to be honest” she laughed “But it’s worth it for family”

“Oh Avdol, what a pleasure to see you again!” Suzi Q beamed from her seat at the table.

“It’s good to see you’re doing good Mrs. Joestar” the man responded nodding her way with a small smile

After all the greetings, they got to work in decorating the room before Jotaro and Joseph got back. Little less than half an hour and everything was ready, Suzi Q and Marina helped Holly with some food she prepared for the night. The three crusaders chatted away with -not so little- Jolyne until Holly walked into the room.

“They’re here!”

Everyone was quick to stand, Holly went outside to receive them and shutting down the lights while everyone else waited. Jolyne smiled widely, face lighted by the candles on the cake she was holding for his great grandfather while (Y/N), Polnareff, Avdol and Kakyoin hid behind the sliding door to the next room.

A few minutes later Joseph walked into the room with his cane followed by Jotaro and Holly.

“Happy 100th birthday grandpa Joseph!”

Looking up he saw his great granddaughter between his wife and granddaughter-in-law holding a cake with infinite little candles in a barely lit room. He smiled happily and approached them.

“Oh darling Jolyne, what do you have here?”

She congratulated him and raised the cake a little bit more for him. “Make a wish!”

Joseph laughed and blew the fire from the candles. Suzi Q, Holly and Marina clapped with big smiles while Jotaro only smirked with his hands on his pockets.

“I sure hope you plan on sharing some of that cake old man!” the French man walked into the room with his naturally loud self, hands on his hips.

“I highly doubt he can finish that by himself” (Y/N) walked right behind him laughing and clapping like everyone else.

“That would kill him now” Kakyoin added with a playful smirk.

“Never underestimate a Joestar” Avdol was the last to walk in, the four of them standing a few feet away from him.

Joseph’s eyes widened; he couldn’t even believe his eyes! The whole stardust crusaders gang was here to celebrate! Without noticing his eyes started to water and a few tears slipped from his eyes, silenced by the shock of seeing them all again after so many years.

“I thought you might like the surprise” Jotaro’s voice sounded almost playful as he placed a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder.

“I-“ Joseph opened his mouth but nothing came out “Can’t believe…”

“Aw Mr. Joestar, did we leave you speechless?” (Y/N) was the first to step up to him and wrap their arms around him in a hug. Joseph took a second but hugged back, cane forgotten.  

Joseph was moved, he even felt younger; 40 years younger! As everyone got a hug for him, he wasn’t the only one tearing up. He finally sat down at the table surrounded my friends and family who sang him a happy birthday. His heart felt truly full and he felt blessed to live 100 years surrounded by the people he loved the most. The rest of the day was filled with laughs and smiles from sharing past adventures, hearing news from what everyone was up to and how they got here again. At the end of the night Joseph couldn’t be happier to live for so long.

[hunnybadgerv]

Confession | Far Cry 5 - Leah Rook

Summary: The confessor of Eden’s Gate finds himself in the position of having to reveal his own failings to the Father.

a/n: This one kind of surprised me and popped up after the fact when I was revising Shattered Impressions for the first time before beta. I felt like I just wholly abandoned John in that trying moment. So, this kind of came together unplanned, but I felt like that given all things it was only fair that I see how things affected him as well. Thank you once more to the brilliant betas who took this and the other stories on: @chyrstis and @amistrio. You guys are amazing and I really appreciate you taking the time out of your own schedules to help with this.

Link: AO3

(I know this was revised last summer, and beta-ed around the same time, but I had not gotten back around to it ... shamefully. I figured since I could only right now wrap my head around revising that it should be one of the things I focused on.)

Confession

Crossing the yard to the packed dirt drive, Joseph Seed slipped his arm under John’s shoulder and lifted his younger brother back to his feet. John’s blue eyes just stared after the blur of a screaming banshee that was Leah Rook. His eyes watered and struggled to focus on any one specific thing. If ever there a person could fit the description fit to be tied, it was her at that exact moment. She railed against the sheriff and his deputy as they hauled her, bodily, down the driveway and finally forced her into the farthest of the vehicles. Of those watching from the white-washed farmhouse, only John knew precisely why she reacted as she had. And her ire wasn’t just about the house she grew up in or the land that had been in her family for generations.

John Seed’s gaze remained fixed on the blue and red flashing lights as the squad car sped down the drive, spewing gravel as it carried Leah Rook away from what had been the Rook family ranch. His hobbling gait migrated him to the fence and he rested his weight against it as his head spun.

Joseph held a handkerchief out to him. “You’re bleeding, brother.”

John took it. His head pounded and he couldn’t produce enough saliva to wash the coppery taste of his own blood out of his mouth when he bowed his head to spit over the fence. A stream of red poured from his nose, with no sign of ceasing.

“I think it’s broken,” Joseph told him.

“Probably.” He’d heard and felt the crunch when Leah punched him.

They stood there in silence. John knew the reason why his brother stayed silent, why he waited. Leah’s reaction and John’s own behavior. Both were revealing, especially to a man as attuned to human nature as the Father. Plus, it was likely that Joseph had heard every accusation she spat at John on the back porch before she kneed him in the groin. He still didn’t feel like he could catch a proper breath, which was only hampered further by the fact his newest injury restricted him to breathing through his mouth.

He coughed roughly, spitting again, and staining the soft green blades of grass red. Joseph stood beside him, with a single hand resting on John’s shoulder. The weight of it bore down on John immensely, making hiss guilt curl through him and cause him to feel small. Perhaps his brother still carried faith in him, despite his proven weaknesses and tendency to falter.

“I apologize, Joseph,” John said finally.

Joseph said nothing.

John knew why. An apology was not a confession, and he was guilty, a sinner. He had been weak and let it happen—leapt headlong into sin,if he were totally honest. It mattered not that, in the moment, the time he shared with Leah felt nothing like a transgression. With her, things felt right, natural, even though his reasonable mind knew that neither God, nor the Father would see his behavior and maybe not even his feelings in a similar light.

The confessor of the Project at Eden’s Gate also knew that had it been his choice, their romance would have continued. Even if she had not ended their relationship in so many words exactly, there was no doubt in John’s mind that anything that had existed between them was no longer. Even if her accusations had been baseless, her anger was not misplaced.

“I asked for her phone number after the brunch in May. We’ve spoken regularly since. Shared coffee together on occasion. Another time, she invited me to her home for pizza and a movie. I also flew her home from Helena once. We stopped on the way for dinner, and got caught by the rain.” His voice was flat, like it came from someone else’s mouth as he spoke about it.

Joseph sighed.

John could tell by the mere sound of it that Joseph knew there was more, but he struggled with the admission. Lust and greed cost him a lot of things in his life. This was yet another that he could add to that list.

“And the two of you—”

“Yes,” John said plainly before Joseph could even finish the question. Lowering his hand from his face, John turned and looked at his older brother. This was the man who had found him at his most degraded, shown him another way, and given him purpose.

“It wasn’t like before.” The words flew from his lips, though even John wasn’t sure if it was an explanation or merely a justification of his actions. “She was different from the others.” He tried to find a way to explain what he felt with her, and for her still, that could make sense to his brother. “It wasn’t merely about the act; it wasn’t just sex. I …”

John shook his head, then bowed it, bringing the blood-stained cloth to swipe at the blood flowing freely once more.

“We were only together that way the once.”

His mind wandered back to that afternoon as he closed his eyes. He could see her standing there soaked to the bone but smiling in that way that made his heart tighten in his chest like it might never be able to beat properly again. The ghost of her touch burned across his skin and the echo of the way she’d said his name in such intimate ecstasy filled him with a rush of emotion. Shame quickly doused the sensation with cold guilt.

“God forgive me,” John whispered.

A hand tightened on his shoulder. “He does, brother. He does.” The embrace caught John off guard, but no more so than when Joseph rested his forehead against John’s, offering comfort as his brother cradled the back of his head. “We must be strong. We are examples, even in our failures. You will have to atone.”

John nodded against his brother’s forehead. “I will. Publicly,” he added, feeling his transgression as deeply as his heartache. He had dared to care for her, battled his baser desires in a search for something more real. Maybe it had been an illusion, he told himself. A fabrication drafted merely to excuse himself for when he would inevitably falter.

“That is not necessary,” Joseph said.

“I know.” John swallowed, gagging on his own blood.

“You should have someone see about that nose.” Joseph leaned away and gestured to one of the members working around them.

John just nodded once more, keeping his eyes focused on the ground not far from where they stood. Self-reproach sagged his usually strong shoulders beneath the weight of his actions and the knowledge that he’d disappointed the Father.

“I’d hate to see the other guy,” Jacob chortled when he approached. His hand landed heavily against the back of John’s neck.

Raising his gaze to meet Jacob’s, John’s shoulders sank further under the weight of that meaty palm, though the tight squeeze offered some comfort. The oldest of the three of the Seed brothers then relieved the youngest of the handkerchief he’d used to staunch the spigot of blood that poured from his nose.

“Keep your head forward. It will bleed like hell again,” Jacob warned him.

John leaned back against the fence, gripping it tight in anticipation. His vision blurred and the sickening crack made his stomach turn, but the pain … the pain was welcome. A reminder that he was alive. Deserved punishment for his failures.

“Pinch here,” Jacob told him.

John did as he was told, teasing at the bridge of his nose gently, probing the sensitivity of the injury.

His brother tilted his head and smirked at him. “Probably going to end up with two black eyes, little brother. Guess it’s true what they say.”

“And what, exactly, do they say?” John asked, taking the bait.

“Dynamite comes in small packages.” Jacob raised his brother’s chin and inspected his face. “Little girl packs a hell of a punch.”

“That she does,” John agreed. His brother laughed once more and slapped John on the shoulder before turning toward the house. John let his gaze travel back toward the road.

The sheriff’s car still sat at the end of the drive. Presumably, he waited there in case Leah made her way back. Perhaps he hoped to head her off before any infraction could be broken. John silently hoped Earl Whitehorse would achieve that goal, if the situation arose. He loathed the idea of following through with the threat he’d made.

Even amidst the ache and throb in his face, he couldn’t fight off the fondness that swelled when he thought of her. She’d had every right to be angry with him, to accuse him of betrayal. He had drafted and brokered the transfer of her family’s land and property. All without telling her a single word about any of it, despite how close they had become over the last few months. In the back of his mind, he could still justify keeping it from her; attorney-client privilege held him to silence about the matter. Even so, it still felt like a weak excuse even as he comforted himself with that caveat.

Jacob hit the nail on the head though; Leah Rook certainly packed a punch. She left a lasting impression on John Seed, one that would far outlast the bruises she gifted him that day in her ire.

“That she does,” John whispered once more to the breeze unable to wipe the thought of her from his mind just yet.

[woman-loving]

Black Nationalism, Feminism, and the Moynihan report

Selection from Separate Roads to Feminism: Black, Chicana, and White Feminist Movements in America’s Second Wave, by Benita Roth, 2010.

Black Women and Changes in the Civil Rights Movement The Civil Rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s featured Black women activists in prominent roles (Crawford et al. 1990; Giddings 1984; Gray White 1999; hooks 1981; Joseph and Lewis 1981; McNair Barnett 1993; Payne 1989,1990; Robnett 1997; Standley 1990; Terborg-Penn 1978). Although the most public leaders were men, Black women played significant parts in the movement, both on local and national levels, contributions that were noted within the Black community at the time (see Bender 1969; Thomas 1964). Southern Black women's networks were central to the struggle, since Black women had been active in clubs and other political organizations that agitated on behalf of the race, such as the Montgomery Women's Political Council. Among Black college students, 48 percent of participants in sit-ins and Freedom Rides were women (Prestage 1980); Orum's (1970:72) survey of Black college students' participation in Civil Rights protest found that nearly twice as many women as men in the sample participated in protest (2,047 women versus 1,142 men).

Black women probably participated in the movement in disproportionate numbers (Payne 1990), filling roles that formed the backbone of the movement and exercising leadership "behind the scenes." Women were most often "bridge" leaders (Robnett 1997), using local networks to link new activists to national organizing. Their "invisibility" as leaders within the movement (McNair Barnett 1993) has been exacerbated by the tendency to define leadership as belonging only to those with public-speaking roles. For example, Ella Baker chose a place in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) that was out of the spotlight so as not to threaten male egos; nonetheless, she was a key participant in that organization (at one point its interim executive director) and also helped "midwife" the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) into existence. Baker insisted that women's work was at the core of the Civil Rights struggle:

“All the churches depended... on women, not men. Men didn't do the things that had to be done and you had a large number of women who were involved in the bus boycott. They were the people who kept the spirit going.” (Payne 1989:890)

And Ella Baker was not alone. Gloria Richardson, Fannie Lou Hamer, Rosa Parks, Ruby Doris Smith Robinson, Diane Nash, and Jo Ann Robinson form an incomplete list of women who were heroes of the movement, if not as widely visible to the public as someone like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (Brock 1990; Fair Burks 1990; Giddings 1984; Locke 1990).

Much of Black women's energy in the movement was used for stereotypical "female" tasks, but the Civil Rights movement also gave Black women a chance to work alongside men in "nontraditional ways" (Marable 1978; Omolade 1994). Women went to jail (and were beaten there) as they handled bus boycotts, field projects, voter registration drives, and challenges to state and national Democratic party leadership. Cynthia Washington had her own voting rights project in Bolivar County, Mississippi, which she did not consider to be an "exceptional" thing for a woman to be coordinating (Washington 1979:238). Even later Black feminist critiques of sexism within the Civil Rights movement acknowledged that women have been given the opportunity "to do far more significant work than white women in their movement" (Bender 1969, citing Eleanor Holmes Norton). Omolade (1994:124) even argued that "traditional" female work took on new meaning in the "radical context and communal settings" of the movement, enabling women to become not just "wives, mothers, or maids," but also "lovers, friend, and comrades."3

Two intertwined changes in the Civil Rights movement of the mid-1960s affected Black women's roles within the movement. First, the social base of the movement shifted; it became younger and more northern. The southern community base that had fostered women's participation became less important to the Civil Rights movement as the student vanguard changed that movement. Second, an ideological program of advocating middle-class, traditional gender roles as a means of remaking the revolutionary Black family developed as part of Black Liberation ideology. Black women who had been active in social protest organizations were asked to become merely supportive and secondary to men. [...]

The Black Liberation ideology that accompanied the Civil Rights movement's shift to a northern, younger social base was characterized by what Giddings (1984) has called a philosophy of "masculinism." This ideological development proved crucial to the emergence of Black feminism. By the mid-1960s, integrationist approaches in the Civil Rights movement gave way to Black Power strategies and resurgent Black nationalism, forming the two major ideological components of Black Liberation. Black Liberation as an ideology was more suited to working within urban and northern contexts, and more popular with younger African Americans; sympathy for the "Black Power" slogan was greater among the young and those born in the North, whose southern roots were more attenuated (Aberbach and Walker 1971).

There were initially significant differences between Black Power and Black nationalism, but by the end of the decade, the two were difficult to distinguish from each other. SNCC was instrumental in the development of Black Power ideology; Stokely Carmichael and Charles Hamilton--authors of Black Power: The Politics of Liberation in America--were SNCC leaders when they began to formulate their ideas in 1966 and when their book was published in 1967 (Matusow 1971). Black Power political philosophy held that African Americans should strive for self-sufficiency and economic progress. Carmichael and Hamilton, holding up ethnic immigrant groups as models, argued that Black people needed to question the benefits of mere formal equality; to become economically empowered, they needed to turn inward, toward strengthening Black communities. Building on older nationalist ideas of self-sufficiency within the Black community, they expressed frustration at the limits of the Civil Rights agenda.

Carmichael and Hamilton were silent about Black women helping the community to gain economic empowerment. Virtually the only mention they make of women's roles was that of

“another set of leaders in the Black community in Lowndes County. This was a group of middle-aged ladies, who knew the community well and were well known. They were to play a very important role in the political organization of the Blacks. They had considerable influence in the Black community--being staunch church members, for example--but they possessed no power at all with the white community.” (Carmichael and Hamilton 1967:102-103)

In contrast to Black Power's silence about Black women, Black nationalism in the mid-1960s was strongly characterized by masculinist discourse and practice.4 According to the nationalists, the truly "revolutionary" Black woman was a supportive one, who kept house while the Black man kept revolution, so as to allow him to reclaim his public manhood (Marable 1983). Despite the work of Black women in the Civil Rights movements, and the very public presence of a small number of women in Black nationalist organizations themselves (e.g., Angela Davis, Kathleen Cleaver, and Elaine Brown), Black nationalist organizations such as Maulana Ron Karenga's US movement and the Black Muslims advocated restricting opportunities for activism by women (Brown 1992). In this traditionalist take on women's roles, the Black nationalist resurgence of the 1960s differed from the older formulations. Whatever tensions existed between Black men and women in activist groups (see Gray White 1999), older Black nationalism did not seem to require as rigid an ideology of traditional sex roles, as was evidenced by Amy Garvey's strong advocacy of women's equality and the key role she played in the 1920s Garveyist movement (Adler 1992; Gray White 1999; White 1984).5

During the 1960s, masculinism was very much present in other parts of the Left and in other parts of the Black community; for example, the traditional gender role ideology of the much-admired Black Muslims added legitimacy to masculinist ideas about delimiting women's roles in the movement (Kashif 1970). However, Black feminists (both then and now) have argued that the masculinist cast of Black nationalism in the 1960s was a reaction to the "Black matriarchy" theory in the 1965 Moynihan report, The Negro Family: The Case for National Action (Dubey 1994; Giddings 1984; Gray White 1999; hooks 1981; Murray 1975; see Pittman quoted in Cantwell 1971; Wallace 1996). The resurgent masculinism of Black Liberation was therefore tied to state intervention into the relationships that existed within the Black family; Black feminism in part responded to the aftereffects of this intervention. In reaction to the Moynihan report, Black masculinists attempted to counter the depiction of Black men as the most abject victims of racial discrimination, with Black women putatively better off by virtue of participation in the labor force. The report concluded that the Black family was "matriarchal" and "deviant," because women held an inappropriately large amount of power (this despite the fact that Black women's status as the most economically deprived group in the country was also noted). This "deviant" family structure hindered the progress of Black men, and, by extension, that of the Black community itself (Dubey 1994; see also Marx Ferree and Hess 2000).

Black nationalists condemned the report as racist, but many responded that the patriarchal family had to be reinstituted so as to right the historical wrongs done to the Black male. With this analysis in place, Black nationalist organizations "prescribed clearly restricted roles for black women in the movement" (Dubey 1994:18). The behind-the-scenes roles that women played in the Civil Rights movement were no longer far enough behind the scenes; women were to be supportive and subordinate, producing "male warriors for the revolution" within newly patriarchal families (Dubey 1994:18). Existing Black family structures, which were based on extended kinship networks, and where illegitimacy carried less stigma than in middle-class white society, were to be changed in favor of the nationalist model of a nuclear patriarchal family. This stance on the need to return to "traditional"--even if largely fictional--gender roles in the Black community was also accompanied by calls for Black women to end their use of birth control. At the Black Power conference held in Newark in 1967, organized by Amiri Baraka, an anti-birth control resolution was passed (Ross 1993); the possibility of Black women helping to carry out Black genocide by using birth control would continue to be a hotly contested issue between Black nationalists and emerging Black feminists, as will be discussed later.

In general, then, the Moynihan report was seized upon by many Black male activists as both a manifestation of white racism and proof that Black women out of their traditional place were abetting that racism. As Gray White (1999:200) argued, the report "legitimized the perception of black women as unnaturally strong and emasculating." But the masculinist reaction to Moynihan also found itself challenged by Black feminist organizing, as some Black women activists, facing problems in their ongoing struggles as activists, responded by uncovering the contradictions that confronted them.

Black Feminists Respond: Early Organizations By 1968, Black feminists had responded publicly to the Black Liberationist/nationalist emphasis on traditional gender roles. Their critiques were nuanced ones, directed as much at white society as at the changes in the Black movement. They condemned advocacy of a patriarchal family structure by Black Liberationists even as they attacked the racism they found in Moynihan's depiction of the Black family. Additionally, Black feminists were staunchly anticapitalist, attributing the shortcomings of existing movements to a failure to carry through on the full implications of revolutionary politics. [...]

The Black Woman, Black Liberation, and Middle-Class Style The members of TWWA [Third World Women’s Alliance] and the Mount Vernon Group were not entirely on their own; Toni Cade (Bambara) (1970a:107) wrote that in the late 1960s, it seemed "that every organization you can name has had to struggle at one time or another with seemingly mutinous cadres of women getting salty about having to man the telephones or fix the coffee while the men wrote the position papers and decided on policy." By 1970, the voices of the "mutinous cadres" of women described by Cade (Bambara) were gathered into her watershed edited collection entitled The Black Woman. Conceived as a dialogue with the Black movement--but unable to avoid some dialogue with white women's liberation--the book was organized out of her "impatience" with the lack of real information about the lives and politics of Black women (1970b: 10). The contributors to the collection were primarily writers and activists who spoke as members of older women's groups, Black liberation groups, Civil Rights groups, New Left groups, and no groups at all.

As might be expected, many of the pieces in The Black Woman were characterized by concerns over Black Liberationist/ nationalist reactions to the Moynihan report, and the specific failure of those reactions to maintain revolutionary consistency regarding gender roles. As noted, [Frances] Beal's "Double Jeopardy" appeared in the collection; one of the Mount Vernon Group's position papers appeared, entitled "On the Position of Poor Black Women in this Country" (which, like "Statement on Birth Control," was widely reprinted and distributed throughout the white women's liberation movement). In this piece, [Patricia] Robinson and her group continued criticism of middle-class Black leaders as a self-interested elite leading poor Blacks down the garden path of capitalism, linking class, gender, and racial oppression as belonging to one grand package:

“Capitalism is a male supremacist society.... All domestic and international political and economic decisions are made by men and enforced by males.... Women have become the largest oppressed group in a dominant, male, aggressive, capitalistic culture.... Rebellion by poor black women, the bottom of a class hierarchy... places the question of what kind of society will the poor black woman demand.... Already she demands the right to have birth control, like middle class black and white women.... She allies herself with the have-nots in the wider world and their revolutionary struggles.... Through these steps ... she has begun to question aggressive male domination and the class society which enforces it, capitalism.” (Robinson et al. 1970a:196)

Robinson and the group argued for a united front of middle-class Black and white women who would join poor Black women in continuing to expose male oppression. At the "bottom of a class hierarchy," poor Black women in concert with others would be able to lead this united front toward liberation for all exploited people (1970a: 196).

The anticapitalist critique of American society and the Black Liberation movement was present in other contributors' work in The Black Woman. In her essay, Gwen Patton (1970) also argued that capitalism was at the root of what she called the "Victorian Philosophy of Womanhood." According to Pam Allen, herself an activist in the Civil Rights and white women's liberation movement, Patton sent Bob Allen (Pam Allen's husband) a draft of her piece for the collection in August of 1968; Pam Allen thought it should be published because "it would be the first time we (or perhaps any paper) have printed a black woman's objection to women assuming supportive roles to black men" (Allen 1968b). Arguing that Black male militants should be more savvy about the intent and impact of the Moynihan report, Patton chastised Black male activists for not seeing through the report:

“Black men... responded] positively toward Black Power and could assert their leadership, which included a strengthening of their masculinity Black women will now take the back position [A] victory for the capitalistic system! Black men are now involved with keeping their women in line by oppressing them more, which means that Black men do not have time to think about their own oppression. The camp of potential revolutionaries has been divided.” (1970:146-147)

Patton recommended that Black women challenge Black men directly, so that the Victorian philosophy "of men on top, women on bottom" (1970:147-148) could be destroyed and the road could be cleared for real revolution.

Besides Patton, other contributors to The Black Woman wrestled directly with the Moynihan report, with the Black Liberationist "manhood" preoccupation that was restricting Black women's activism, and with the effects of capitalism on the Black community (Cade [Bambara] 1970a; Carey Bond and Perry 1970; Lincoln 1970; Lindsey 1970). Kay Lindsey's essay in The Black Woman echoed the idea that Black militants had been seduced by capitalist promises, and that the "Black middle class" were "pseudo-escapees into the mainstream" who had assumed "many of the institutional postures of the oppressor, including the so-called intact family" (1970:86). Lindsey argued that white establishment efforts to "encourage the acquisition of property among Blacks via Black Capitalism... would probably serve to further intensify the stranglehold on women as property" (1970:86-87).

And contributors also had concerns about Black Liberation's anti-birth control stance, following the stance first articulated by the Mount Vernon Group. Black Liberationist anti-birth control politics did not stop at rhetoric; in 1969, Black nationalists from the United Movement for Progress closed down a birth control clinic in Pittsburgh, which was subsequently reopened by community women (Lindsey 1970). Cade (Bambara) (1970c: 163-164) wrote of attending a workshop given by a Black Liberation group that degenerated into a diatribe against birth control. She described how "one tall, lean dude... castigated the Sisters to throw away the pill and hop to the mattresses and breed revolutionaries and mess up the man's genocidal program." One of the women present responded with a question about the "dude's" financial responsibility in this: "[W]hen's the last time you fed one of them brats you been breeding all over the city, you jive-ass so-and-so?"

The writings contained in The Black Woman represented a polyphonous response to the traditional gender ideology that Black Liberationists were espousing as revolutionary; in other places, Black feminists were agreeing that Black Liberation's sexism was rooted in their unquestioning adoption of middle-class values alien to the Black community. On the West Coast, in Seattle, Nina Harding, then a thirty-one-year-old Black Studies major at the University of Washington, a mother, and an employee of the Seattle Opportunities Industrialization Center, wrote a position paper entitled "The Interconnections Between the Black Struggle and the Woman Question," which she presented at the annual conference of the Seattle Radical Women in February 1970. In it, Harding also argued that Black Liberation, otherwise critical of capitalism, had accepted traditional ideas about women's roles, and she blamed these retrograde attitudes on unquestioning acceptance of the Muslims; but she was also critical of Black "bourgeois sisters and silent sisters," who hold to "WASP standards, be those standards interpreted by the Muslim or Nationalist advocates" (1970:4). Other Black feminists in other cities echoed the idea that Black Liberation was importing white middle-class values into the heart of the Black community (Holmes Norton 1970). When interviewed by a Los Angeles Times reporter in June of 1970, Margaret Wright, a member of the Los Angeles Black women's liberation group, declared it impossible for Black families to be shaped like white ones because of class domination:

“[T]he black man is saying he wants a family structure like the white man's. He's got to be head of the family and women have to be submissive and all that nonsense. Hell the white woman is already oppressed in that setup.” (1972:608)

On both coasts, then, Black feminists rejected attempts by Black Liberationists to use middle-class gender ideology to bolster Black male "manhood."

[heartofsnark]

This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

Notes: Heyo, since A) I took a break and B) it’s friday the thirteenth, as it was when I posted the first chapter of this is love back in January, I decided to go ahead and post chapter 8 today. Chapter 9 is already done and I’ll be beginning work on chapter 10 soon, as this is my current hyper fixation. I hope you all enjoy. 

Word Count: 8671

Chapter Warnings: Oh boy we got some shit today my dudes! Stories/Reference of Past Child Abuse, Animal Death In the Context of Hunting, Homphobic Slurs/Homphobia towards lesbians, and referenced past anti-Semitism. Less important but there’s a pov change and like three different quotes in this chapter, from the Book of Joseph, and two different songs, which is probably a lot but I ain’t editing this shit anymore

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Pain cracks through Joseph’s skull late that night, shooting across from each temple, seeming to split his head apart. He sits on the edge of his small bed, a modest bedroom in the back of his church. He knows what it means, he’s grown accustomed to the sharp ringing pain, visions always come with it. They’ve started to come more frequently since The Lamb arrived.

He grabs at his head, as if he could press hard enough to keep his skull together as pain racks him, an instinctual reaction. Pain strikes through and breaks the reality of the world around him, closed eyes starting to see visions of what could be, images of what may await him.

A world anew surrounds him; one changed by the Collapse and washed of sins. Lush and natural, even more beautiful than the world that came before it. Vibrant pink flowers decorate the earth, thick green moss covering trees. A soft pink flowered apple tree stands at the center of the compound, white buildings replaced with hand made little houses.

Men and women are all around, working around New Eden. Parents playing with their children, carrying their babies; loyal followers allowed to pass through the gates and grow their family. Some members bring back hunted animals to be prepared for meals and others tending to gardens.

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

A fact that changes time and time again as his visions come to him in waves. He’s seen New Eden with and without them. He’s seen each of his siblings die time and time again, old and young, premonitions of what will be or what could be.

In this version, this vision, he’s been allowed his siblings. Faith, Jacob, and John talk at a distance where Joseph can’t quite hear the words, only taken in the moment. Jacob and John’s ages showing more clearly in the gray just starting to pepper their hair.

A voice rises above all others, cutting through the mumbled conversation through the compound, and Joseph knows it’s calling towards him. The soft voice calls him a name similar in meaning to his title, but it cuts to his heart so differently.

“Papa!”

Through the eyes of his older self, he can only watch and take in what happens, no control as he turns to see the source.  A young boy of about five comes running towards Joseph, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Joseph’s body moves of it’s own volition reaching out to hug his son, his son, but before he can feel the embrace of his child the world cracks apart again.

Pain splinters through the world and rips him from the moment, when he opens his eyes again he’s back in his room. And his hands itch to hold his son who’s yet to exist, instead he rubs at his temples, fingers knotting in his own hair as he attempts to soothe the agony within his own head. The only respite being what he hopes is a new promise from his creator. A chance for his family to not only walk with him to New Eden, but the chance to expand it.

He’ll have a son. The very idea soothes his pain and is like a salve to frayed nerves. Becoming an internal mantra as he eases himself back to sleep that night.

 Sweat coats Dahlia’s skin as she does another push up, her muscles aching at the workout. She shifts to lay on her back on the living room floor, t-shirt riding up her sweaty stomach. Her second day of no work has turned into an impromptu work out, push up and using doorways for chin-ups. She uses her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead before grabbing her phone to check the time. Dahlia must have gotten her way through the day, it has to be late by now.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screams into a pillow, how the fuck is it only noon? Dahlia looks at the mess of her coffee table, trying to consider what to do just to eat at her time, she could draw again. But her hand is still cramping. She read somewhere you’re suppose to do warm up for drawing, she’ll have to start doing that.

Then she sees the Book of Joseph, her drawing still sticking out of it. She’s burned through her backlog of manga on her phone and fuck, it’s something to do. Joseph seemed like a genuinely sweet man, maybe he has something interesting to say.  Music still blasting, because everything in her life requires a soundtrack, she opens the book.

 “Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows.

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

 The first sermon in the book, she chews her lip, it’s not that much different from things Joseph told her yesterday, that he’s thankful her past led her to him. But, something rubs her wrong about the idea of being grateful for her abuse. Not for her, she plans on dying mad about it. She reads onward, an illustration of a flaming capital building surrounded by waves with someone drowning in the foreground. That’s…dramatic.

“If a person had been walking down the poorly maintained road out front of the Seed’s house on that afternoon in June and felt the strange urge to glance over, they would have witnessed a bizarre sight.

They would have seen a man dress in black pants and a white undershirt, frothing with anger, brandishing a comic book in one hand and a bible in the other at his son, a child of about ten. But no one had been down this in the poor suburb of Rome, Georgia, in a long time. Not ice cream trucks, not social service cars, not even police patrols.”

Dahlia stops almost three pages in as Joseph begins to write about a dying widow who once gave him and Jacob cakes before she grew sick. The picture he’s painted is far too clear and hits too close to home for her to continue, at least for the moment. A belligerent bible thumping drunk of a father who derided Joseph for loving Spiderman comics and beat Jacob’s back for the younger brother’s supposed misgivings.

Father Monroe, her stepfather, wasn’t quite the ruddy faced sloppy drunk that Old Man Seed was. But when Joseph describes Jacob offering his back up for a beating, she nearly feels the bite of leather against her own. Stripes for the backs of fools, is all she hears.

She wants to talk to Joseph, she realizes, thinking of both the beginning sermon passage and how their own pasts match up. Does he really bless the man who hurt him? Is he grateful for Old Man Seed? Maybe that kind of forgiveness and peace with it comes with age or is it just him? Ruth has a similar story as well, a little older than Dahlia, and she holds on to the same anger Dahlia does. Has Joseph managed to let it go? Does he still like Spiderman? Did his father beat the passion for comic books out of him or does he still enjoy them? Its hard to imagine, the intense Joseph Seed casually reading a comic book.

Less than three pages is a pathetic excuse for reading and didn’t pass much time, but it’s intense for her. So, she’d rather just…stare at the wall for a bit until she’s ready to tackle it again.

It’s Saturday night, Pratt and Hudson won’t be going to The Spread Eagle tonight, because no work. Meaning a rather mundane day with no interruptions. Other than a short walk, Dahlia spends the rest of it fucking around on her phone and watching shitty tv; passing out after downing an unevenly heated microwave meal.

Sunday morning rolls around, spent much like the last, Dahlia using her down time and excess energy to work out. It’s important to stay on top of exercising and staying in shape, given her profession, she makes a mental note to order some weights online. There’s not really a proper gym in the county and she doesn’t want to lose muscle.

She’s in the middle of another round of pushups when there’s a knock at her door; she jumps up from her position, skin still slick with sweat as she rushes towards the door. Finally, something to disrupt the monotony.

It’s Pratt standing on her porch, hazel eyes looking her over. She’s expecting a shitty comment on her appearance, dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt, hair mussed with sweat.

“You need something?” She asks him, slightly out of breath. Dahlia lifts the bottom of her shirt, using it to wipe sweat from her face, breeze skimming the bare skin of her stomach.

“What the hell has you sweating, Rook?” The older deputy chews his lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

“Figured you’d be bored out of your mind, reason I’m here,” he grins, “throw some clothes on and we can head out.”

“You mind if I shower first?” She asks, while she’s not sure where he plans on dragging her but she’d rather not stink like sweat while she’s there.

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

He nods and Dahlia steps aside to let Pratt into her trailer, it’s not the most tidy of place because, well, she’s not the most tidy of people. She can feel the judgement starting to build up as Pratt looks around her messy living room. A pillow and blanket haphazardly on the couch; her duffle bag on the ground with clothes falling out of it. Her table has her sketchbook, thankfully closed, and the Book of Joseph is tucked under it. It’s a messy little nest, but it’s hers.

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, I prefer it,” she explains with a shrug, not really sure how to elaborate on her weird feeling about sleeping in a bed.

“You have a bed, right?”

“Yes, I have a bed, I just, shut up. I don’t barge into your house and start judging how you live,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “just sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dahlia grabs a change of clothes, hearing the couch springs creak as Pratt sits down. It’s weird seeing someone in her trailer. The closest she’s had to visitors have stayed on her porch. Pratt is the first person to be in her actual trailer, he looks immensely out of place and judging by his eyes glancing around, he seems to feel that way too. She tries not to think too hard about it, making a beeline to her bathroom.

She tries to keep her shower short, not wanting to make Pratt wait too long and not wanting him to snoop while he’s left alone. That doesn’t stop her from playing music as she showers, just limiting herself to two songs before she jumps out. A quick dry off and she tugs on her clothes, towel still on her damp hair as she walks back out to her living room.

Pratt, sure enough, has found something to snoop through. Dahlia grimaces at the sight of him picking through her little jewelry box of photos. Was he rifling through her dufflebag? She clears her throat, smirking when he jumps up.

“I was just-”

“Snooping,” she cuts him off, ruffling the towel over her hair.

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It did...after I kicked it a little, but it did fall out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snatches the little wooden box off the table, Lloyd and Caroline’s photo booklet was on top, so at least she probably avoided him seeing baby photos.

“You, uh, don’t look much like your parents. You adopted or something?”

She can’t help but chuckle as she puts it away; she can’t blame him for thinking Lloyd and Caroline must be her parents. The pair are both about Whitehorse’s age and why else would she have so many photos with a couple that age. But, the couple absolutely look nothing like her. Both fairer skinned and blue eyed; Lloyd with dark strawberry blonde hair and Caroline with light honey blonde locks. Short of some shenanigans the chance of them producing an olive skinned, brown eyed brunette is slim. And while the couple have their share of adopted children; Dahlia isn’t one of them.

“No.”

“Oh, uh…” She can nearly see the gears turning in Pratt’s head,  her usual one word style of answering has put Caroline’s devotion in question and Dahlia won’t have that.

“They’re not my parents; legally or biologically.”

“Oh, you just hang out with old couples?”

“Maybe, maybe not, ain’t really any of your business,” she shrugs, “more importantly, where the hell are we supposed to be going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

“Would you rather sit here and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“Fuck  no.”

“That’s what I thought, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she throws the damp towel onto her laundry chair before shoving her feet into her boots, “lets get going.”

She locks up behind Pratt then follows him out to his car. Compared to the last time she was in his car, this is infinitely more relaxing. She hums along to the radio, resisting the urge to sing along. He probably already heard her yelling along to her music in the shower, she doesn’t need to blast his eardrums at close range. After one song ends and another shittier one begins she starts to fiddle with the radio setting.

“The driver is supposed to pick the music,” Pratt tells her as she flips through stations, trying to find a station playing something other than country.

“The driver needs to worry about the road, while I find something worth listening to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your taste in music is so good.”

“I have excellent taste in music,” she turns to one station and it sounds like a choir.

Help me, Faith

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

“The hell is that?” It’s not a bad song like technically speaking, but it’s definitely a bit much.

“Peggie station, it's all crap, Eden’s Gate runs it. It’s all their choir music and sermons.”

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

She finds something better, even if she doesn’t necessarily mind Eden’s Gate music, she’d rather listen to something without fear of a sermon coming up after. At the very least, Pratt doesn’t complain about her choice, a few more songs playing before they cross into Holland Valley.

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs, “figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.”

“So, you decided to come end my boredom?”

“No need to sound so excited,” Pratt rolls his eyes, not appreciating her lackluster response.

“Sorry, I, uh, do appreciate it,” she admits, looking out the windows, cheeks warming at it. It’s embarrassing to say that she is genuinely thankful. Hell she nearly jumped up and ran to the door like a dog when he knocked. Boredom is hell.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

They pull into the police station parking lot and she raises an eyebrow at him as he parks. He’s taken her to work? What on earth is he planning?

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna enjoy this, c’mon.”

She follows him out and around the building to the helipad she noticed before, a black police grade helicopter on it.  He doesn’t hesitate to climb into the pilot's seat, telling her to get in. She listens, climbing into the seat next to him. It looks like a mess of buttons and controls to her, none of them making sense. But Pratt confidently starts turning switches, lights coming to life in front of her.  They’re going for a helicopter ride, holy shit.

“Pffft,” Pratt huffs out a laugh, “we’re not even in the air yet and you’re already grinning.”

“This is okay, right? Like, no one will mind.”

“I’m the only person at the station who can fly, so if they needed it, they’d be calling me anyway. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to know I can enjoy this guilt free.”

“And lift off,” Pratt says as he brings the chopper up off of the ground. The station grows smaller and smaller as they ascend up into the air.

“Wow…” Is all as can seem to say at first as the chopper kisses the sky.

They’re surrounded by a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds as Pratt flies across the county. Lush green forests and farms beneath them, mountains along the edges of the county. A top down view of animals running through, specks in their vision. She oohs and awes, unable to help acting like an excited child over the view. They fly along the county, Pratt is kind enough to answer her stupid questions about flying, what buttons and switches mean. She’s certain to a seasoned pilot her naïve question must be frustrating, but he grins with every answer. Before she knows it the sky around them has shifted to an awash of pinks and purples, the sun setting, before a midnight sky takes it place. Brilliant stars twinkling around them, feeling so close, like she could reach out and touch Andromeda.

Once it gets too late, Pratt lands back at the station, her cheeks ache from all the time smiling. He drives her back to the trailer park, the pair in comfortable silence as she hums along to the radio.  Her thoughts drifting off as they are so quick to do. Pratt and her butted heads a bit when they first met, but he’s quickly become her closest friend in the county. Their light-hearted bickering and shenanigans have become her favorite part of her days in Hope County.

He walks with her to her trailer, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move. She turns to look at him when they reach her door. Dahlia clenches and unclenches her hands searching for what she wants to say.

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

“Not just for that, not to be all mushy and crap, but coming out here, keeping me from going nuts, being my friend. It, uh, means a lot, seriously.”

“Eh,” he scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, “just watching out for you, probie.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I, uh, know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

“Uhh, you’re getting there, once you start stinking like beer all day and have a house full of deer heads, we’ll call it good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grins, “night.”

“Night.” She waves Pratt off before going back to her trailer to settle in for the night.

Monday is spent showing up to the station just to play with Petunia behind the building; just laying on the ground while the fluffy opossum crawls on her. She scratches along the marsupial’s back as they nuzzle into her neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home relaxing or something?” Beau asks and Dahlia shifts her head back to look at him.

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

“Well, everyone asked me to go see what that weirdo deputy was doing, so here I am.”

“Oh no, you hear that Petunia,” she looks at her opossum friend, “people think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, talk to the ‘possum, that’ll really show ‘em.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he just rolls his eyes, leaving her alone for the moment. Pratt and Hudson invite her out to The Spread Eagle once the sun starts to set, but a steady throbbing ache has built in her head, she skipped pain meds. And the idea of the jukebox booming in her skull makes her turn it down for the night, once she’s back to work she’ll treat them to a meal there, she decides on the quiet ride home.

Dahlia wakes up the next day and decides to finally take that hike, wanting to explore some of the mountains and woods that surround the county. The brunt of the trails seem to be within the Whitetail Mountain area up north, the mountains in the Henbane are mostly around that statue and as much as she likes Joseph more than before; the statue is still creepy.

She tucks her sketchpad, pencils, water, and her pain meds in the storage under her motorcycle seat before she drives up to the mountains; the north section of the county is colder, a chill from the air as she rides up. She stops in at an Old Sun Outfitters, buying a little black backpack to carry her stuff in when she hikes.

The woods around her get thicker and thicker as rides further into the mountains, land growing steeper with every minute, civilization sparser and sparser; buildings harder to find, just peeks of wood or cement through trees. The trees clear on her right as a turn of the road leads her to a large parking lot with little hutch and a sign that says, ‘rest area’. The hutch says Valley View Overlook. It’s built at the top of a plateaued piece of land, not as towering as the mountains in the distance, but higher than the meager hills of the valley or river. She parks her motorcycle and packs the bag before taking in the view.

A small navel high fence, she imagines waist high for others, keep animals or children from just running off the side of the mountain. It’s a beautiful sight; she can see why the lot is named after it. She takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air looking out at the soft blue sky that meets the mountains in the horizon; the deep green forests further down. Air so clean and refreshing, but for some reason she finds herself pulling out a cigarette, to fill her lungs with smoke. Too much good needs a bad, she supposes. She watches the white clouds and birds flying through, as she lets smoke settle heavy in her lungs, only parting from the sight when her cigarette threatens to burn her fingers.

She follows along a little beaten trail through the woods, kicking up rocks and crushing grass underfoot as she lets the trees surround her. Grass rustles around where animals sneak through; deer running through, other hikers crossing her path, and hunters packing bucks back home with dogs sniffing along after them.

It doesn’t take long for her to go off the path, just walking in any direction that catches her interest. Deeper and deeper into the woods, following divots and drop offs, walking along the occasional stream of water that passes through the area.  Her feet and head start to ache as hours pass, the cool air no longer able to chill her body as exertion coats her skin in sweat.

A hunting stand, one of many, is within the woods. Gray metal built around a tree with a ladder leading up. It’s empty, but if a hunter really needs it, she’ll move along. She climbs up curling her legs under her on the stand as she pulls off her back pack and red flannel, the sleeves now sweaty after her walk. Dahlia ties it around her waist, feeling the cool air on her skin as she takes a deep breath.

She takes a deep swig of water and one of the pain killers. There’s a crush of grass and she looks up to see a group of deer a short distance from the stand. A fawn and what may be younger deer, with a buck among them. The buck’s fur grayer in color than the richer warmer brown of the others. Dahlia gets out her sketchpad and pencils, balancing them on her knee as she takes the drawing the creatures. A calm energy and flow falls over her as she draws, the only sound the animals rustling within the woods. She’s better at drawing people than animals, she realizes, when she can’t quite get the right slope of the buck’s muzzle, but she doesn’t stress herself over it. No one will ever see her wonky deer. She looks up; the buck has gotten much closer, shuffling near the stand.

Dahlia puts her sketchbook aside, half finished wonky deer abandoned, as she moves to lay on her belly over the edge of the hunter’s stand. She stretches her hand out, his antlers high enough for her fingers to just brush the velvety texture. But that’s not what she’s after, wanting to pet the stags head. Dahlia shifts to a knee and a foot, she forces the fingers of one hand into the grating to keep a solid grip on the stand. She leverages herself to lean further and further out, stretching a hand out and nearly hanging completely off the stand. Her fingers just centimeters away from touching the stag’s head.

The fuzz of fur brushes across her fingers and the soft brown eyes looking up at her go blank; blood spraying from the side of the buck’s head as it’s body goes limp to the ground. She can’t help but jump back and fall on her ass; gasping at the now dead deer in front of the stand, the rest of them have scattered at the sight.

Maybe she should have expected it, being in hunter territory, but the closeness of it still startles her. There’s a heavy thud of boots, steady consistent footfalls crushing branches and grass beneath them. Ginger hair with shaved down sides and an army jacket; Jacob Seed.

This is likely the only time she’ll ever be taller than him, watching him from the stand as he shifts a bright red rifle from his hands to on his back. It seems so vivid and ostentatious compared to his utilitarian style of dress.  There’s a childish urge to jump on his back and scare him. But, they don’t know each other well and he’s a veteran, so she can’t know how he’d react to the sort of thing. Maybe a boo would be okay, just something small?

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

Dahlia jolts, taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and chews her lip watching as he starts to gather up the slain deer; then he looks up at her, blue eyes sharp and harsh. All the masculine Seeds have blue eyes and intense stares; but Jacob’s gaze is colder than Joseph’s and more steady than John’s. Something almost predatory to it. 

“I was drawing him,” she says after a moment, looking down at the stag. 

“And I was hunting him.” 

“Still would have appreciated another minute or two,” she says as she grabs her bag, throwing the sketchbook back inside before she jumps off the stand. 

“So, you could flail around and try to pet him for another five minutes.” 

“Hey,” she pouts, she was caught hanging from a hunting stand like the child she is, but, “wait, you saw me?”

He gives a vague grumble of agreeance, more preoccupied with tying up the hooves of his latest hunt to make it easier to carry. 

“And you still shot? You could have shot my hand off.” Has this man never taken a gun safety course, she catches a glimpse of the scope on his rifle, there’s no way he didn’t see how close his shot was to her hand. He chuckles, dry and deep, mocking her. 

“Relax, if I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead by now.” 

“Wow, that’s not comforting.” 

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, standing up and packing the giant deer over his shoulder, like it’s nothing.  

Dahlia reaches out to touch it, fingers brushing through soft fur, no warmth beneath it. She might as well be petting a rug. Jacob starts to walk off and she doesn’t know why, but she follows him. Hands clasped behind her back and walking heel to toe after him. Maybe it’s just because she’s curious about him. He’s the only one of the Seeds not to take a strange interest in her for whatever reason. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, allowing her to follow along after him. Leaves and grass crush under foot as she follows along behind him, curious as to where he’s going or doing. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s something to do if nothing else. 

“You got somewhere to be?” 

“Not really, no.” She tries to crane her head around, trying to get a better look at his face to gauge his reaction, but their height difference is too big to truly do so. The man has to be around a foot and a half taller than her; he seems even taller than the sheriff.

“Well, I do, so get out of here.” Her smirk drops, she was hoping to see him get more agitated like the youngest Seed brother, but his voice doesn’t rise. Staying the same steady deep timbre.

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

“The nicknames aren’t really necessary.” She can’t help but say, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, the condescending way he calls her sweetheart and honey make her nauseous.

 “Neither is following me like a lost puppy dog; but here you are.” 

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

“You killed my only entertainment, so it is now.”

He comes to a sudden stop and Dahlia has to stop herself from running into his back; she doesn’t particularly want deer corpse on her face. He turns to face her; expression still the same stern look he usually carries, and she misses his grin when he was talking to kids at the barbecue.

“Look here, deputy, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and irritating me isn’t a habit you want to form. Get out of here.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m really scared.”

“Keep pushing, sweetheart, won’t get you anywhere.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Jacob is something wrong,” a voice cuts through their conversation, rough and masculine. And Dahlia see the long-haired man and short haired girl from the barbecue; the ones who shot her dirty looks when she talked back to Jacob.

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks Dahlia directly.

“Standing.”

“Fallon,” Jacob says the woman’s name, stern tone making her posture snap straighter, “I said it’s none of your concern. Let’s go.”

The three of them start to leave down a path; Fallon and the long-haired man have heavy bucks they pack as well. A hunting trip for Jacob and his…friends? Are they friends? That didn’t seem like friendship, but Dahlia is far from an expert on the matter. She offers a goodbye wave; but Fallon just rolls her eyes. Their steady footfalls leaving the deputy behind.

Well, it staved off the boredom for a while she supposes.

Dahlia lets out a huffy sigh, blowing loose strands of hair from her face as she begins back down the path she came. The sun is setting by the time she’s back to the parking lot and climbing on top of her bike.

Her stomach is growling by the time she’s driving down a main road, she sees the sign for The Grill Steak as she reaches the intersection. Dahlia pulls in, letting her stomach guide her actions, as she’s one to do.

It’s a small restaurant packed with groups of people from friends to families; she can feel the heat of the grill radiating through, the smell of her making her stomach growl. She settles into a booth by herself, when she reads through it the menu is full of gamey meat burgers and steaks. No signs of beef or pork; it’s all bison and deer. She wonders if the cook hunts everything himself, it wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’s seen of the county. He can hear the cook yelling something she can’t understand from the kitchen. Dahlia settles on ordering a cola and a deer burger; thinking about the hunted stag she saw Jacob kill.  

As she waits on her food, the chatter of a group catches her ear. They’re not from Hope County; the different cadences of how they speak mingled with fancy latin technical terms tells her as much. Trying to be discreet; she glances at them over her shoulder. A group of four; two women and two men all around the same age. Dahlia’s not the brightest bulb in the pack by her own admission, but when she hears the words corvids and lupine, she realizes they’re talking about animals. It doesn’t shock her, given the abundance of wildlife in the county, certainly people would come to research them. 

The door to the restaurant swings open and a man comes walking in, shoulders back and footfalls confident. It reminds her clearly of Jacob, the walk of a soldier, though this man isn’t quite as intimidating a figure. Older than Dahlia, though most people are, with a full dark beard and long scraggly dark hair. He doesn’t bother to take a seat at a booth or look at a menu, only giving a single wave to the cook in the back as he makes a beeline to the group. Dahlia shifts a little further down into her booth, not that anyone could truly tell she’s eavesdropping, but it gives a little more secrecy to it. 

 “You the conservationists?” 

 “Yeah, we’re studying the wildlife here… And you are?” 

“Eli, not here to ‘cause trouble or anything like that, just wanted to give some friendly advice.” 

“Friendly advice?” 

“You need to watch yourselves out in those woods.”

“Pffft.” 

“We’re well aware of how dangerous the wildlife out here can be. You-” 

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

“And bears and mountain lions, oh my,” one of them jokes, “look, we know what we’re doing.” 

“You’re not listening, they’re not regular wolves. They’ve been trained to kill and hunt people down on sight. Even if you avoid ‘em, you get on the cult’s bad side and they’ll send ‘em after you. You gotta be careful out here.” 

“Okay, sure,” the eyeroll is nearly audible, “we’ll keep an eye out for killer cult wolves, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, alright.” 

The man, Eli walks away, and Dahlia considers stopping him. Admitting her nosiness and ask him some of the million questions going through her mind. Surely by cult, he means Eden’s Gate, right? Dahlia can’t imagine who else he could mean. They’re small and close knit, but they’re not a cult, right? Cults imply something more out there or intense; they’re just a little Christian church. Joseph may have his own book, but they still follow Christian ideas of sins and scripture.

And wolves? How could they possibly be training wolves? It’s all so ridiculous and asinine, making gears spin and churn in her head until they overheat, but it was said with such conviction. By the time she brings herself to make a noise, Eli has already left, and it’s probably for the best. It’s too crazy to be true. Maybe he’s a tinfoil hat wearing type of guy, a conspiracy theorist like the Zip guy who leaves a newsletter in every damn corner of the county, screaming about chemtrails and baby farms.

She fills her stomach, deciding to leave that as it is, finally returning to her trailer late that night. A restless night of sleep with images of wolves and deer creeping around through her brain, nothing concrete enough to latch onto, but enough to unsettle.

A boring morning leads into a boring afternoon, time blurring before the sun has set and Dahlia’s finding herself pulling up to The Spread Eagle to catch her coworkers after their shift. She’s popped enough pain killers that the throb of music and noise is welcomed instead of irritating. A smile already gracing her lips when she catches Pratt and Hudson shooting the shit in the bar’s lowlight. As she sneaks up closer to them, their conversation starts to be audible over the tunes playing through the bar.

“I bet you break before then,” Hudson says, a teasing grin directed at Pratt.

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

“Please, you’re weak and you know it.”

“How much you wanna bet?”

Dahlia strikes, throwing her arms over Pratt’s shoulders, effectively hugging him from behind and leaning her weight into him. He’s warm and Dahlia can’t fight the impulse to squeeze him a little tighter. She breathes in the faint smell of coffee and cologne that still cling to him; comforting after so much time spent around him.

“Jesus fuck, when’d you get here?” Pratt blusters and at this close of a range Dahlia can see his cheeks pinkening under the scruff of his beard. Does this bother him?

“Right now.”

“You decided to come hang out again?” Hudson asks, grinning at the flustered Pratt.

“Mmhmm,” Dahlia hums into Pratt’s shoulder, pressing her face into him, “bored.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles and reaches back to swat at her hip.

“Ugh, buzzkill,” she bitches as she detaches from Pratt and climbs onto a bar stool, “so what the hell are you guys making bets about?”

Pratt coughs, trying to dislodge something from his throat, and Hudson laughs, “yeah, Pratt why don’t you tell her about our bet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

“Fifty,” Pratt suggests and Dahlia wants to know even more what the hell they’re making bets about.

“Mmm, hundred.”

“Fine, if you’re comfortable losing that much.”

“Anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s gonna drive me crazy now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and orders food, stuffing her face as she listens to her coworkers fill her in on anything of interest she’s missed during her off time. It’s not much, as usual, the workload in Hope County is pretty low stakes. Hunting violations, speeding tickets, and the like. Seems like her assault is about the most interesting case in a while. Dahlia’s tempted to ask if they know anything about wolf attacks but bites her tongue before she does. Hope County is filled with wildlife, wolf attacks have no doubt occurred to some degree and if she mentions the idea of trained cult wolves, they might start to think she’s buying into the conspiracy shit.

“Stop,” Pratt says suddenly, putting hand on Dahlia’s knee, “you’re shaking the whole damn bar.”

Her leg she realizes has been bouncing the whole time, the hike helped, workouts help, but she’s still breaming with pent up energy. There’s a rustle of movement and Dahlia is drawn to the open floor near the jukebox, she’s seen a few people dance here and there, a couple now and again swaying to softer tunes while she’s been here. But, it’s more crowded tonight, people laughing and dancing together.

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

“It’s ladies’ night, women drink free, so everyone’s extra, uh, energetic tonight,” Hudson tells her.

An upbeat song starts and Dahlia’s up in the next breath, she needs to move, burn off excess energy. And while her favorite club in Lake Charles isn’t exactly available to her anymore, she’ll jump at the chance to lose herself in a song.

You should be wilder, you're no fun at all.

Dahlia’s singing along as she sways and shifts through the crowd, body moving instinctually to the beat. There’s a woman about Dahlia’s age, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dancing as well and the deputy finds herself gravitating towards her.

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

She asks low into the woman’s ear, so she can be heard over the music, if she can dance with her. The response is a smile, lighting up the girl’s face, a nod of her head and then she’s pulling Dahlia in by the hips.

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

And then she loses herself in it. In the music that fills the bar, the feeling of a stranger touching her, the slide of her feet as she moves,  the way hips knock together, the scratch in her throat as she sings lyrics in the woman’s ear, their grins as they laugh and bump noses together. It’s fun and it’s silly, a reason to move and forget life for a moment.

Cause you give me the electric twist and it kicks and it kicks like a pony.

And true, you might run away with it, it's a risk it's a risk yeah.

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

Dahlia spins the woman with a laugh, before pulling the woman close against her again, wide smiles and bright eyes as their foreheads touch. There’s sweat sticking to their skin as the song winds down. Panted breaths ghosting over each other’s faces as they come down from exertion.

And the touch of your lips it's a shock not a kiss

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

“How much I gotta pay to see you kiss?!” A loud voice booms out, making Dahlia and her dance partner of the night separate. There’s a man, couldn’t be older than his mid twenties, sitting at the bar with his legs sprawled open drinking a beer at the table between the bar and the dance area. His eyes linger and look over both women’s bodies

“Can I help you?” Dahlia asks and furrows her brows, glowering at the man as she draws closer.

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart and I’m not a damn show.”

“Pfff, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he turns back to his table and rolls his eyes, as if Dahlia’s the problem, “fucking dykes.”

The junior deputy grits her teeth and she sees from her peripheral the woman rubbing the back of her neck, letting her bangs fall into her face looking like she’d rather disappear.

“The fuck did you call us?” She can’t stop herself from speaking, barely managing to reign her anger in enough not do something worse.

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pratt’s voice cuts through as the man starts to turn to retort, the warmth of her coworker’s hand wraps around the clenched fist she didn’t realize she had raised.

“Is something wrong?” Mary May calls out, starting to walk out from behind the bar.

“Everything’s fine,” Pratt responds before Dahlia can say anything and when she starts to speak, he looks at her to whisper, “you’re barely three weeks into your job, you really wanna be getting into bar fights?”

“He ca-”

“I heard what he said, Rook, but it ain’t worth your job.”

“You’re right,” she gnaws on her lip and looks down on the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I just don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“I need some fresh air.”

Dahlia leaves The Spread Eagle, noticing the woman she danced with has already vanished, unwilling to deal with the bullshit. A cool breezes ghosts over her sweaty skin as she sits down on the porch steps at the front of the bar; running her hands through her hair as she fights to ease her nerves. She digs a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket

There’s a crush of footsteps as she lights one, bringing it to her lips, shiny black leather boots entering her vision.

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

“You Seeds can just smell when I’m sad, can’t you?” She teases looking up to see John, the neon bar sign setting his face aglow in the night as he chuckles at her.

“Not my intention, but if you’re in need of a talk, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You weren’t coming out here to harass Mary May again, were you?”

“Deputy,” he puts his hand to his chest cartoonishly dramatic in his hurt, “h-harassment? That’s ridiculous. am I not allowed to visit with Ms. Fairgrave and just discuss our difference of opinions.”

His voice is ramping up in pitch as he defends himself and Dahlia can’t help but smile, appreciating the distraction from her own troubles.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mary May would have a different of opinion about that one. We still gotta talk about members stealing booze.”

“Our members would do no such thing; and I assure you, if there’s any harassment here, we’re the victims. We’ve been insulted, had our sermons interrupted, our practices mocked, Mary May herself once showed up our church simply to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a two-way street, I get it. Sit, we can chat for a bit,” she pats the section of porch step beside her and reluctantly after a beat of silence, he sits down, “so, Mary May caused trouble for you guys?”

“Yes, yes, she has and she’s not the only one; the people of this county have persecuted me and my family since we’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, no one should mistreat you that way,” she looks him in the eye as she speaks, “and if it ever happens again, I want you to call down to the station, ask for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know you’re on our side.”

“Ah, ah, I’m on everyone’s side. Mary May is owed the same respect as you and your family; and if you cause issues for her, I won’t hesitate to intervene for her sake as well. I’m here to keep everyone safe. Got to treat everyone like you wanna be treated, the whole spiel.”

“I know you’re not preaching biblical principles to me, dep-yoo-tee.”

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

“You’re a grown man spatting with a woman ten or more years younger than you; throwing a tantrum and pointing fingers when you’re told to behave.”

“First of all, I’m not that old,” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t look at me like that, I’m 32. Secondly, I am not a child. Mary May has-“

“And if she does something again, now that I’m here, let me know and I will help. But her actions don’t justify yours.”

“Fine, I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.”

“I mean it’s less a promise and more so doing my job, but alright.”

She breathes out a plume of smoke, making sure to aim away from John’s face, his blue eyes track the movement and the nicotine fumes that escape into the air. An ex-smoker, she deems as she watches him staring at her lips and the cigarette between her fingers.

“You want a smoke?” She asks, offering her pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tattooed fingers pick out a cigarette and she lights it for him with a grin, watching him take a deep inhale and blowing out the smoke that fills his lungs. The soft rise of his chest and the gray clouds that billow out from parted lips. She notices for the first time the freckles on his neck and chest, shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose them. There’s thin fresh scratches along his hands and forearms, too superficial and fresh to match the deeper worn in scars, they look like cat scratches. And yeah, he seems like a cat guy.

“So, now that you’ve berated and tempted me, deputy,” he speaks after an exhale of smoke, “why were you out here pouting?”

“BREH!” She plops her back down on the porch with a vague animal long groan and throws her arms over her eyes, cigarette still between two fingers, must he remind of her own issues.

“Well that certainly wasn’t immature or dramatic.”

And she laughs, because he’s right, she can preach maturity all she wants to him. But, she’s still a brat herself. She’d justify herself with their massive age difference, because no way he’s thirty-two, but that feels flimsy at best. They’re both just two temper tantrum throwing children, hell they’re even both fibbing about their ages. Though, she suspects his own much more severe than the few months she adds to her own.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know,” he lays back on the porch, matching her position, “I take the confessions for our church, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest, I’m the man to talk to.”

“Not much to say; guy called me a slur, I nearly throttled him.”

“Someone else’s actions don’t justify your own,” he parrots her words back to her.

“Yeah, someday I’ll follow my own advice.”

“Has that happened before?”

The gears in her brain churn, she’s been called many a thing, but her sexuality has been one of the less insulted facets of who she is.

Her stepfather, as religious as he was, was adamant on his hatred of gay people. But her own disinterest in exploring her sexuality or romance saved her from his scorn in that area, his focus more on the other various things he found deplorable about her.

Her mother’s side is Ashkenazi Jewish, and Dahlia remembers the few people of her stepfather’s church who despite her mother converting were disgusted their preacher would marry a Jewish woman. A handful leaving the church, a few sticking by just to call Dahlia and her mother slurs when their backs were turned.

The nightclub she favored in Louisiana was considered a gay bar, though not exclusive to LGBT folks. Women dancing with women, men dancing with men, men and women dancing; and a healthy amount of people who didn’t quite fit either label. Only one-night sticks out, a car speeding past the line outside the bar just to scream a slur out the window.  

Maybe what bothered her most was the boldness. This wasn’t someone whispering when they thought Dahlia couldn’t hear, and this wasn’t a man just screaming out at the public as he speeds away. Just a man emboldened and willing to hurt her in front of a bar filled with people.

“We’re blocking the door.”Everything else died on her lips; unable to spill her guts.

“And we weren’t while you were lecturing me?”

Her phone buzzes in her jacket as she brings her cigarette back into her mouth, unwilling to justify her evasiveness to a man she barely knows, she answers a number she doesn’t know at all.

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

“H-hello, is this a deputy?” A soft broken voice, she remembers from the diner,  asks her and Dahlia sits up, tension pricking at the back of her neck.

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I…” a beat of silence and a choked sob comes next, “no, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m not okay, I-“

“Where are you?” Dahlia’s on her feet, heartbeat in her throat as she waves off John’s furrowed brows and concern, running to her bike.

“I’m at the diner. I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I’m headed your way now, Cassie, are you safe?”

“I…I don’t know…I…”

Her voice breaks out into sobs again as Dahlia starts her engine, slams on her helmet, and switches her phone to the speaker in her helmet. The girl’s cries echoing around her as her wheels kick gravel across the parking lot, speeding out of Falls End.

[emmabnn]

- A Brutal Rip in Reality -

- A Brutal Rip in Reality -

- 𝙎𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙁𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣  -

*ongoing *word count so far: +/- 32K

Description:

This story is about Lilly-Mae, a not so usual twenty-five-year-old, who enjoys the risky things in life with her best friend Thomas. Exploring other dimensions was something they did often -- until they ended up in a place they rather didn't. A world crawling with the Supernatural. Lucky for them, in that world, heroes without capes risk their lives daily to get rid of those nasty creatures. They call themselves hunters. --

- ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ - This being a supernatural fan-fiction, there is gonna be blood, torture, gory detailed scenes, there might be mentioning of depression, self-harm, suicide,... --

- ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴꜰᴏ - Ongoing #Supernatural fan-fiction that doesn't follow the show so the boys are younger - they're twenty-seven and thirty-one but you'll see that the bunker is already introduced, people that are dead might still be alive, they already know characters they technically didn't know at that age. It'll end up leaning towards a Castiel/fic, but it will have a rather slow build-up. This as originally posed on Wattpad (@Confused_cas)

Lilly-Mae and Thomas Reed are my own original characters. If you're interested in seeing a visual representation of Lilly-Mae you might want to look up; Laurel Toma. --

- ᴍᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ - Keep in mind, I'm a mediocre writer with dyslexia, so take spelling mistakes lightly... I pour my heart and soul into this story... If you feel the need to correct an error, feel free to do so, but be nice, please... ( '́з'̀)

𝑀𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓁❁𝓋𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑒𝓃𝒿❁𝓎

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝙰 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 -

A thin blanket of morning dawn hung over the fields of Mr. Joseph's farm. That spiteful rooster that caused me to wake up from my sleep in the most brutal manner, was once again singing whatever hell song he sang every morning. Singing is too polite, rather screaming, although the sun wasn't supposed to come up for another hour.

My bare feet ran through the damp grass while the cold morning air danced between my locks of dark brown hair. Causing goosebumps to cover my entire body.

About ten minutes ago, Thomas sent me a text asking to meet him in the barn of the farmer, also known as Thoms dad. His father knew we spent time together at the barn, which he didn't like. I lost count of the amount of times he caught us and I had to ran home so quick that my own feet couldn't follow.

It was an emergency, Thom said, so I was in a hurry. So much so that I left the house without shoes, still in my pajamas. His message sounded pretty serious, only another reason for me to be more curious than a child on Christmas morning. When the barn finally appeared on the horizon, I could feel my stomach do a back flip, filling itself with butterflies. Their wings fluttering, causing healthy tingles to flow through me. The feeling caused my cheeks to burn, leaving them completely red behind.

What Thom and I had was unique. We've known each other for the longest time. We practically grew up together. Which, made the situation only more complicated.

'He's like a brother to you.'

That was the sentence I forced myself to believe. Though, the fact that I obligated myself to not have feelings for him spoke for itself.

Out of breath and gasping for air, I finally arrived at the typical red barn. Carefully I crawled through one of the planks that had come loose months ago during a wild storm.

"Thom?" I asked softly, expecting a response. Moonlight shone through the many cracks in the wood, creating just enough light for me to be able to see. Except for some old boxes, a broken-down tractor that has been here for as long as I can remember and some hay was there nothing special to see.

"Thomas?" Sounded my voice again, louder this time. Once again, no answer. A short-annoyed sigh escaped from in-between my lips. This wasn't the first time he would text me, asking me to join him, only for him to hide and scare me. Once he didn't even show up, he pranked me, while he was still in his cozy bed at home, probably laughing at me for falling for his "prank".

"Dammit Thomas, you're 25 years old, cut the crap." I snapped, and decided to take a seat on the hay covered floor, leaning against the tractor. To be fair, I'm not the sportiest person, and running all that way got me exhausted. Apart from my heavy breathing, was there no other sound to be heard. No cars driving past, not a single cricket in the tall grass. Even that spiteful rooster went quiet. That was when I realized the weird atmosphere around me. It was cold -- but not just the frisky type of cold. A chill that creates tiny clouds when you exhale. It left your nails blue. At that same time, I had trouble breathing, as the only air filling my lungs was the dry and warm desert kind of air. Black spots started appearing in front of my eyes, obstructing my vision. It consumed me and dragged me into a fear I've never felt before.

Two hands on my shoulders shook me awake from the panic I was drowning in. Greeted by two electric blue eyes was I slowly returning to earth. His lips were moving, but there were no words coming out. Murmur was the only thing I could hear, until I finally fully returned, both feet back in reality.

"Thom?" I asked, mumbling.

"Lilly-Mae, everything okay? You look like you just saw a ghost." A small chuckle in his voice that tried to cover his concern. That however, didn't work on me. He was kneeling in front of me, right at my eye level, inches away from my face. He managed to get me back on my feet. "Lilly?" He asked again, looking for an answer as his fingertips gently brushed a strand of hair out of my face, causing those tingles to start flowing.

"You crazy? You know you can't leave me alone here." I snapped at him, and flung his hand away from me. My reaction was pretty dramatic, but that way I was able to hide those feelings deep within me. I didn't fully lie though, that what just happened was an attack. I have those sometimes, but especially here, where the walls between worlds are thin. When I've an attack, it's like my soul already made the step into the dream world, while my body is stuck in reality. I see, smell and hear things at the other side.

"Sorry... didn't mean to leave you alone, I was um -- looking at the dream world portal, it's... different than usual." He said unsure. "What do you mean, different?"

"The color, it's orange?" I frowned my eyebrows at his response. Orange? Usually they're blue, sometimes purple... but orange -- what could that mean? My stomach turned, I didn't have a good feeling about this, but my curiosity got the better of me.

We started walking towards the portals' location, which was also in a different place than usual. "Maybe we end up on a subtropical island this time." Thomas said laughing, but I didn't react because I was still trying to shake that terrible feeling from before, unsuccessfully. The portal appeared under the roof of the barn, truly an odd place. "It has never appeared here, and that color..." I whispered worriedly. My concern made the tall man next to me laugh. "The color and different location is what makes you uneasy? But you're cool with the fact that portals to other dimensions exist?" He had a point, nothing about traveling through them was normal, yet we've been doing it for years.

"You wanna go take a peek?" Thom asked curiously, inches away from the orange crack in time and space. It was beautiful, lively -- yet something just didn't feel right. The palms of my hand started to sweat; Thom was getting too close to it for my liking.

"I -- I don't know, something's off."

"Oh, you and your premonitions. Let's just go and see, we know how these things work, Lilly. Just -- relax." Relax? Relax my ass. That one word was enough for me to get annoyed. "How many times have my premonitions been wrong?" I asked in defense.

"We don't know that, because we always listen to it. C'mon, let's do something risky for once?" His puppy eyes shimmering with the orange light of the portal. "Once? As if traveling to other dimensions isn't risky enough on its own." An angry sigh escaped me, and with crossed arms I decided to create more space between me and the crack. "You do what you want, I'm gonna see what's on the other side."

"Thomas." I growled his name as a warning. His blue eyes that were looking at me were playful as his hand reached towards the portal.

His gesture made my glare drift towards the orange light while that bizarre feeling plunged me again. A force pulled my soul back in a roller coaster of images, feelings and smells that I didn't sign up for. An image of a cold, dark place hit me on the back of the head. Walls dripping in blood, meat hooks decorated with body parts hung from the ceiling in rows. It looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie. The room came to life with jerky movements that caused me to feel sick. People with bizarre long cloaks entered the room, their faces hidden behind masks -- no, there were no masks. Their faces were deformed. They all took a seat on chairs that stood in the room in a half circle, all pointing towards the center. Their distorted faces that you rather didn't encounter flashed before my eyes as nauseating laughter filled my ears. Another flash, my eyes now focused on what the creatures were looking at. In the middle of the room, a woman strapped with her hands above her head held by one of the meat hooks. Her once blonde hair hung in front of her face, drenched in her own blood.

The atmosphere in the room how ever, was filled with joy, impatience and hunger. Another man entered the room, he ripped what was left of her clothing off her body and I did everything I could to wake up. Everything to return back to reality, my own world -- but it was impossible. The man started to speak, and when I realized what was going on at the other side of the portal, I collapsed.

"No!" I cried out, once again was Thom able to put me on my both feet. "Lilly!" He roared, and my eyes flew open. "We can't go there -- we can't! It's dark there and -- there are bad things there -- they do things they shouldn't Thom! Please -- let's just go back home, please?" I was able to stand somewhat straight up, mumbling, both my hands-on Thomas's shoulders for support. Tears rolling down my cheeks as salty waterfalls. Although I was awake in this reality, I didn't have control over my body. I kept on walking towards him, feet stumbling over every little obstacle on the floor. "Let's just go home, Thom... please."

"Lilly -- stop, what are you doing?" He looked terrified, but my feet didn't stop moving. I wanted to get closer and closer to him, while he just moved further and further away from me. "If we go to that place, we won't be able to make it back." I whispered.

Before realizing it myself, my foot got caught on one of the protruding nails of the wooden floor.

"Lilly!"

I pushed Thomas through the portal, and fell behind him.

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚘: 𝙽𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 -

Orange light flashes flew passed me as we were making the fall to the other dimension. I wanted to scream, cry out for help, but the lack of oxygen made that impossible. It was as if we were surrounded by flames that could burn us any second, but they didn't. The contrary, the tunnel of the portal opened up, becoming wider. Revealing its true beauty. The flames took on a different form, a warm sunset. It reminded me of the evenings Thomas and I would spend together, sitting on the roof of the barn. The memory playing in my head took the focus off the horrible pain I was in. Because traveling through something supernatural comes with an expensive price tag.

A hard-concrete floor broke my fall, rolling, scraping, I finally came to a stop, but not without injuries. The palms of my hands bleeding, the thin fabric of my pajamas ripped in some places, revealing my damaged skin that was coated in a thin layer of blood. Gasping for air, I felt my heart beating in a fast and unsteady rhythm. The oxygen that filled my lungs was accompanied by an odor that was familiar to me. Sweat, blood and rotting flesh was polluting the air. Without even having to look, I knew exactly where I was.

When I finally found my courage I looked up, and was confronted with my speculations. Rusted meat hooks hung above me, the body part attached to it fresh, still dripping blood that was collecting in a puddle right in front of me. My vision however wasn't completely correct. The room was empty, but the chairs where the people with distorted faces sat on, were present.

'I have to get out of here.'  Was the first thing that came to mind, but that plan, or more so idea was brutally ripped from my mind when the door opened.

"What do we have here?" Sounded a voice, coming from behind me. It knocked the air out of my lungs as I turned around anxiously. The man I saw in my vision earlier, the one that ripped the last pieces of clothing of that poor woman's body stood before me. A wicked grin on his face.

"Got lost, sweetheart?" He asked -- I wanted to answer, try to make up and excuse, but I knew it was too late for that. This was his property, his personal mousetrap, and I walked right into it. The lump in my throat made of fear was too big and I wasn't even able to make a sound that was supposed to represent a word.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you." He said in a warm voice, which completely threw me off. His sympathetic speech gave me hope for a split-second. Hope that I could make it out alive. However, all of that disappeared when I saw him reach for a rope. He walked towards me, suggesting that I joined him in the middle of the room, but when my body didn't respond quick enough, he pulled at my arm. My weak legs almost gave away due to his brute force.

"No worries, I won't hurt you -- besides, such a pretty face, it would be a shame. I won't ruin what is going to make me a lot of money." I stood inches from his body that was easily twice the size of mine. His hands looked like they could break bones with ease. Still speechless, I looked up at him, my light brown eyes in contact with his -- orange eyes? He wasn't human -- humans don't have orange eyes.

His words about how I was gonna make him a lot of money were still on my mind, until the confusion finally rolled off my tongue.

"Money?"

"No worries." He said again in his warm, comforting voice as he tied my hands together, to then hang me with the rope on one of the hooks, my hands high above my head.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Lilly -- Lilly-Mae." I exhaled. "Pleasure to meet you, Lilly. If I'm allowed to call you that. Now, how old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"Magnificent." His hand held my right cheek for a moment as he looked in my eyes, as if he was hopelessly in love with me. As if he had known me for years. But I knew better, he wasn't looking at me, he was dreaming about the cash I'd make him.

"Lilly-" He said, squishing my cheeks briefly, causing a soft pulling pain. "I'll be right back, with some company who would love to meet you." He did as he told and disappeared not much later, causing the silence to return to the room once the door was closed behind him. My eyes looked up, at the hook that was covered in a thin layer of dried blood, that held me tightly in place. My nails were already turning blue due to the lack of blood flow, my mind filled with thoughts.

Thomas, he also fell through, I'm not alone, he must be here somewhere -- but where? I felt bad that the first thing on my mind was the fact that he could save me, and not that I was concerned about his safety. He wasn't in this room, who knows what they will do to him when they find him?

We were caught in an auction house, a twisted one where they sell people instead of old crappy art. All I had left was my best friend to save me of whom I didn't even know was still alive. With my eyes pointed back to the concrete floor, I took a deep breath.

"Crap..."

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎: 𝟻 𝟺 𝟹 𝟸 𝟷 -

With my mind on zero, my eyes were fixed on the door in front of me and my ears focused on every sound they could pick up. Honestly, I had no clue what I was doing. Searching for a solution was impossible. Praying? Useless. Hoping for a miracle was pathetic, and I had no intentions of spending my last day on earth, being pathetic.

My senses dominated me. Smell, taste, hearing, vision, touch. I wanted to spend my last day on earth, human. The rotting blood scent filled my lungs and a similar taste settled on my tongue. The sound of restless movements and blurry conversations that took place at the other side of the door filled my ears. My eyes, which allowed me to see, absorbed all the color it encountered. There weren't many in this rather dark room, but when they came across a small flower pot that stood on a desk in the corner of my room, my pupils grew interested. The plant that once stood in it, had long since died. But the color of the pot itself caught my attention. Mikado yellow, a beautiful, vibrant yellow color that reminded me of sunflower fields, or the sun in a child's drawing. The cold floor where I stood on with my bare feet shot signals through my nerves. So did the thick rope that was slowly cutting into my wrists.

In that exact same order, smell, taste, hearing, vision and touch. That was how I arranged my senses. Smell the least important in my opinion. Touch the exact opposite. Is that strange? Having a favorite sense? Probably -- I suppose that's just what I am -- strange.

My senses dominated me, until the door opened again, and fear took over.

"Take a seat,  gentlemen. Get comfy -- there's plenty of room for all of you." Spoke the man that stood before me about an hour ago. The hairs in my neck stood on end when I saw distorted faces entering the room, hidden under long hoods, their bizar colored eyes most prominent. Again -- not human. Trembling, my eyes started to scan all the -- creatures, until they all had taken their seats, the door closed behind them.

"Welcome -- welcome, I know this is quite unexpected, you could even call it unusual. Two auctions in one day. But what can I say?" His eyes shot towards my direction while he pointed at me, a twisted smile on his face. "She literally walked straight into my hands." Laughter filled the room, causing a chill to slowly crawl its way up my spine.

"Shall we just get started then?" The room agreed and I could barely breathe.

"This is Lilly-Mae, or Lilly, if you're nice enough." Soft laughter bounced around the room, but my eyes didn't leave the man in front of me alone for a single second, watching him as he paced back and forth. "Twenty-five years of age, incredibly soft skin, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious as to what she'd taste like." A thin layer of water formed in my eyes.

"So I suggest we all have a taste." Once again, the room agreed, and a man with a knife and a glass carafe approached me. Not long after, the cold iron cut through me like a warm knife through butter. My blood felt warm running down my chilled skin as it got collected in the carafe.

"Patience, gentlemen." He said, trying to calm the room down. Revealing the thick, red liquid caused the creatures to become restless. They were hungry and made sounds you only hear in horror movies. To my surprise revealed everyone a small glass, for my blood to be poured into. When he said they were gonna have a taste of me, he meant it literally. The precious liquid was shared fairly among all the guests. They treated my blood like an expensive old wine.

"Go for it, gentlemen."

With their heads tilted backwards, they poured it down their throats in one go, like a shot. They were hungry, impatient. Like a wild animal that finally caught its prey after days of hunting. Not much after, the room was filled with I assume are supposed to be compliments, addressed to me. They said things about how special I tasted, how unique and pure I was. But those compliments quickly turned into inappropriate comments. Things they wanted to do to me, how they were gonna do it. Everything was being explained down to the smallest detail, and it made me feel sick.

"Lilly --" A striking voice shot out to me. "It might cost me my life, but you're mine." Vibrant blue eyes were hidden underneath a hood, creating confusion within me.

"Let's start the bidding!" Yelled the owner enthusiastically, who had just wiped his mouth clean after also having had a taste of me.

"Five thousand dollar." The audience immediately started mentioning absurdly high numbers. Not even a minute passed and, they had reached ten thousand. How rare and precious is food for them if they are willing to spend that kind of money?

"We're with more than seven billion people on the planet, why spend so much on me?" I mumbled, and the room went silent. "Enough food, right?" I added.

"Oh, but you're not just food, darling. You're so much more." Snarled a voice.

"When we buy you, you become ours, our property."

"And with your own property, you do as you please."

I felt lightheaded as my thoughts explored the worst scenarios. My instinct told me to escape, to run, but my body wasn't doing anything. Most of my senses were completely paralyzed, but I could feel my heart beating. I felt the unsteady beat pumping through my veins. I could hear it. A sassy comeback with a lot of attitude was ready on the tip of my tongue, but that's where it stayed.

'You're a nice person, your rudeness is just your defense mechanism.'  Thomas's old words were going through my mind. He was right, every time it got too much for me to handle was cursing my way out.

"Fifty thousand!" Shouted that strangely familiar voice again. The creature skipped over twenty grands in one offer, and it made the rest of the guests enraged.

"Fifty-five thousand!" Roared another voice in attack, but less than a second later that number got kicked into the ground by the other creature.

"Sixty-five thousand!" And just like that, the bidding war between the two continued until they reached a hundred thousand dollars. They went quiet, as if they needed to catch their breath. Did someone win? Were they going to go even further? Yes. The answer was yes.

"Two hundred thousand." Said the one with the blue eyes. His voice calm and confident.

"Are you insane?" Exclaimed his rival. "What are you gonna do? Sell your house for some sex and a supper?" The blue-eyed creature didn't reply, he won, that's all that mattered to him. I was his property now, and his eyes met mine.

"Two hundred thousand dollar, once."

Silence.

"Twice."

My heart was pounding underneath my rib cage. My breathing heavy.

"SOLD!"

My blood pressure collapsed, causing my legs to give away, my ears ringing. I was sold for two hundred thousand dollars, and now belonged to someone -- something, that could do whatever he wanted with me. He wanted me from the second he laid his eyes on me, and his desires were fulfilled.

"Go ahead, collect what's yours." Spoke the owner of the auction house. Pointing at me, at his price. The man stood up, his blue eyes focused on me. He was tall, but not all too buff. His cloak that was too short revealed a pair of worn-down sneakers. Sneakers that seemed familiar. His hands reached towards the rope that held me tightly. That was when I realized why I've been so confused for so long.

"I don't think you've been here before, what's your name?" Asked the owner.

"Thomas." The blue-eyed person replied.

It was Thomas that bought me, he bought me with money that he didn't have. He was untying the rope, but his eyes never left my gaze.

"Sorry." He whispered so softly that I could barely hear it. There was a crack in his voice because of the dryness in his mouth. I wanted to say something, thank him, but I couldn't manage a single word.

"Congratulations Thomas, as you know, house rules. We only accept cash, the entire amount, at once." He was a dead man walking. Thom never had money on him. It was a damn miracle if he had a five-dollar bill in his pocket.

"Wait, what?" Answered Thom, genuine confusion in his voice. "I never received that information. I have the money, but not with me." The atmosphere in the room changed from the second he spoke those words. The owner sighed and came closer.

"I knew this was gonna cause problems. A newcomer offering such a sum?" Some of the other creatures were also standing up. Were we exposed? Did they know Thom wasn't one of them?

"You know what? I'll give you another chance. Go your way, next time you want buy, you bring cash. Meanwhile, Lilly-Mae will go to Osain for a hundred thousand."

No -- this couldn't be happening. I was safe, Thom made sure I was safe. My world collapsed in front of my very own two eyes, as Thom his blue eyes sought out mine.

"No, that's not happening." Thomas objected. "I fairly won the bidding, like I said -- I have the money, just not on me."

"Where then? Somewhere in Europe where you think we won't be able to find you?" Snapped the owner, who clearly had enough of the situation. "Because then you're thinking wrong, friend."

"We'll be looking for you and her, and you don't even wanna know what happens once we find you." Added another creature. It quickly became clear to me that everyone knew everyone here very well. Like at a local café, but instead of enjoying a beer together, they enjoy some human flesh. Thomas's eyes went from looking at me, to staring at the ground. He was thinking, and I watched as he struggled, biting on the insides of his cheeks.

"Can I talk to her for a second?" He asked hopelessly. It went quiet, most of the creatures were just straight up confused because of his question. Apparently, you're not supposed to care for the item you're buying. But Thomas did care.

"Um -- Sure?" The owner answered slowly. Thom's hands immediately grabbed my shoulders, his face inches away from mine.

"Lilly, I'm sorry." His voice was silent, but filled with panic. "I hope you can forgive me, because I know I'll never be able to forgive myself. I see no other way out, you mean so much to me -- and I promised you I'd protect you, and I failed. I'll make sure no one will be able to ever hurt you again. These monsters, they won't get you, I won't let that happen. I'm sorry -- and I want you to know that I love you. Now, listen carefully to what I'm about to say, kay?"

I nodded as a response, my eyes drowning in tears, my thoughts confused.

"When I step back, you close your eyes, and keep them closed, doesn't matter what happens, okay? Once they're closed, start counting down from five to one. Do you think you can do that for me?"

"Yes..." My voice cracked.

Salty water ran down both his cheeks. His hands left my shoulders as he started to walk backwards. The last thing I saw before closing my eyes was his hand that reached inside of his pocket.

"'Till at the other side, Lilly-Mae." Thomas said, and I started to count down.

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

Bam, and I was dead.

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛: 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑 -

He held a gun to my head, my eyes were closed, and bam -- I was dead. A mercy shot. That was the thing he hoped I would be able to forgive him. He only did it to spare me from the horrific things Osain would've done to me.

There I went, my body crashed on the hard-concrete floor, causing the room to explode in anger. The owner just lost a number ending with five zeros. The monsters lost their company and dinner. The impact of the bullet that had flown straight through my forehead in a smooth motion caused my eyes to fly back open. Laying on the floor in my own blood, mixed with that of the previous victims, I looked before me. The big rusted door still directly in front of me, blocked by two pairs of feet. Thom's and those of the owner.

That was when I realized something was wrong. I was dead, yet I heard, smelled, saw, and felt things. I couldn't move and when they started attacking Thomas, I knew I walked straight into my worst nightmare. The monsters flew at him like wild animals. They ripped his clothing, sinking their teeth in his skin. His screaming filled my ears, but there wasn't anything I could do -- except watch. I was trapped in my own body; I had no control. They chewed on his flesh like piranhas, causing a blood bath. Not much later and his body hit the floor. Inches in front of me, his hand almost in contact with mine. My head was filled with my own screaming. He called out for help, begged for mercy, but they didn't listen. The only one listening to the words he cried out, was me.

He continued to fight, trying to escape from their sharp teeth that bit into him over and over, until -- he went silent. His eyes lifeless -- the only movement his body was making, caused by the monsters who were digging around in it. I was going to be next; they didn't care if I was dead. Meat is meat, and if I had to believe them, I tasted too good to waste.

The image of Thomas lifeless eyes that were looking at me was the only thing I could focus on, next to the fear I was in. I wished I was dead, really, dead. Not whatever state I was in now.

'Thomas.' I thought. I wanted to cry, scream, but I couldn't do anything, anything but watch. 'I'm sorry...'

A loud noise in the distance caught my attention. It came from outside the room. Not a second later and the door flew open. Three pairs of new feet were visible. More monsters? No. Shots were being fired, causing the bodies of the creatures to drop like flies. Help had arrived after all, but they were too late. A fight took place that lasted about five minutes before each monster was killed. One of the new men that just burst in got injured, but apparently it wasn't too bad.

"Dammit -- " A deep voice said. "we're too late, again!"

"Try to look at it positively, Dean. At least they're dead now. They can't make any more victims." Replied the one that had been injured, but that Dean he mentioned didn't agree.

"Sure -- Sam." He said sarcastically, before turning to the other man in the room. "Cas -- how long have they been dead?" The third man, who was wearing a beige trench coat sat down on his knees right next to Thom. His hand a few inches above his body that started to shine a bright white light. "About ten minutes." He replied in a deep, rough voice.

"Fifteen minutes earlier, and the poor bastard would've survived." Dean sighed before turning his attention to me. "And her?" He asked, pointing. The man in the trench obviously had supernatural powers. Maybe he could notice that I'm still somewhat alive? My instinct said to make a noise, so I mentally started to scream. Now he sat next to me on his knees, his hand hovering over my body. That light appeared again, followed by a warm feeling that went through me.

'I'm still alive! I don't know how, but please, help me!' I cried out mentally. He didn't reply, however, I was unable to see his face, I was able to pick up his confusion.

"She -- um.."

'Yes! You can hear me... I know you can!' I shouted at him.

"Cas?" Sam asked. "She's still alive." He replied.

'Yes!'

"What?" Dean sounded confused. "You can literally see the other side of the room through her skull, what do you mean, she's still alive?"

'I don't know, just -- get me out of here, please?'

"She doesn't know why she's still alive. I don't understand... She feels human. Well --" Cas's voice was filled to the brim with confusion. "Maybe not a hundred percent."

"Then what is she? Demon, angel?" Sam asked. "No." Answered Cas convinced. "What do we do?" Asked Dean who clearly didn't want to stay in this room much longer.

'Take me with you, please. I don't know what you could do to make me any better, maybe I'll still die. But please, I don't wanna die here, not on this floor.'

"We'll take her to the bunker." Cas suggested, and the other two didn't protest. Not much later, I was laying in Cas's arms, like a dead body. My head tilted backwards, my arms lightly swaying back and forth due to his walking. Just before we left the room my eyes caught a glimpse of Thomas. His blood-covered body on the ground, or what was left of it anyways. The owner of the auction house laid beside him; his body filled with bullet holes.

I took a brief moment to mentally thank Cas for giving me a chance. For getting me out of that dreadful place. With the room behind us, the worst thought hit me. If not for the good nature of the supernatural being that was now caring me, I would've stayed there. I would've died looking in Thoms dead eyes. That wasn't the worst outcome haunting my imagination. What if I didn't die? What if I lived and was forced to stare at Thomas's body that would slowly decompose? That fragment of imagination would stick with me for the rest of my life.

When we finally made it out of that nightmarish building, warm sunshine shone down on my body. Cas with me in his arms walked behind Sam and Dean. My mind filled with fear and panic as I imagined that scenario.

"It's okay." He suddenly whispered, trying to comfort me, so quietly that only I could hear it. "You're safe with us."

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎: 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚌𝚊𝚛 -

Laying on the backseat of a 67 Chevy Impala, I was completely lost. Accompanied by three strange men who were taking me to a place I didn't know, in a world, I didn't belong. Sam and Dean were sitting in the front of the car, the one with the shorter hair behind the wheel, while Cas sat in the back with my head laying on his lap, rather uncomfortably. Laying down like this forced me to look up at him, although I tried to focus on the roof of the car instead.

There hung an awkward silence in the vehicle that I wanted to break, but couldn't. As if Dean was able to read my mind, he spoke. "So, uh -- are we gonna talk about this or what?" The man sitting next to him shifted awkwardly, shortly looking over his shoulder at me.

"What do you want to discuss?" Cas asked, causing Dean to become slightly annoyed. "The dead chick in the back?" He replied rather rude, before also letting his glare drift off to me. "That is bleeding all over the car seat!" He angrily added. "Well, she's not dead." Cas replied in defense. "And how do you know that?" Sam questioned. "Does she still have a heartbeat?" Dean continued. Cas his blue eyes that reminded me so much of Thomas's looked at me before replying, as if he needed to check.

"No..." He answered rather quiet. "Dude, I know you're weird, I know we do weird crap, but carrying a dead chick around?" I was honestly getting offended by Dean calling me a dead chick, over and over.

'I'm not dead though...' I thought, sighing.

"Dean, she just said that she's not dead. Also, she doesn't like being called a dead chick." It was as if the two had to process what Cas just had shared, and so did I. The silence only made me concentrate more on the fact that he was still listening to my thoughts.  

"You can hear her?" Asked Sam, breaking the quietness. "Her thoughts, yes. I'm still a celestial being, remember?"

'A celestial being? He's an--'

"An angel, that is correct." He replied aloud before I was even able to question it fully. And just like that, my world flipped upside down for the fiftieth time today.

"So she can hear us?" The long-haired man asked, who by now was fully turned around on his seat, his eyes on me and the apparent angel, who nodded as a reply. "So we can just ask her questions and via you get the answers?" He once again nodded.

"What is she?" Dean immediately asked, again a rather rude tone to his voice.

'Jeez, buy me a drink first.'

"She wants you to buy her a drink first." Cas translated my thoughts into speech, literally. Making Sam and I chuckle for a bit. Cas gave us a few confused looks before deciding to ignore us.  "If I recall correctly, she doesn't know how she's still alive, so I doubt she knows what she is." So far I know, I'm human. Hell, I just found out a couple of hours ago that non-human things exist. "She's human, she thinks." Cas said, but I'm certain that no one believed me, not even the angel himself.

I wondered what other forced questions Dean would ask, but Cas was first to ask me something. "What's your name?"

'Thank God for a normal question.' I quickly regretted mentioning... Him. If angels exist, God must be a thing as well.

'Lilly-Mae, um -- did I offend you by mentioning, you know who?' I asked, trying to ignore the Harry Potter reference I just made, just to be sure he knows I didn't mean to be rude. "Nice to meet you, Lilly-Mae, and no. You didn't offend me by mentioning my Father." A small smile on his lips to reassure me.

'So, God was real, angels are real, monsters are a thing, anything I'm missing?'

"Demons." Cas replied is a monotone deep voice. 'Well, fu--'

"Where are you from?" Asked Dean. How on earth was I going to explain this?

"You want us to contact any one of your family so they know you're safe?" Sam proposed. Family, I don't have. I spend the first five years of my life with a drug addict of an aunt, to end up in one orphanage to the other until I was old enough to work and live on my own.  

"She doesn't have a family." Cas informed the others. Looked like I managed to avoid the big bad with that reply. "What big bad?" The angel asked innocently.

'Well, crap. Here goes nothing I suppose. I'm not really from, here? Thomas and I, we ended up here after traveling through a portal.'

"Thomas?" Asked Cas, while ignoring the rest of my reply for whatever reason. 'Yea, Thomas, the half-eaten dude back at the auction house? That was Thomas.'  I replied rather annoyed because the wound of just having lost the only and most important person in my life was still tender.

"So you're not from this world?" The angel asked. I'm sure he just wanted to know more about me not being from here, but for some reason, it felt like he tried getting my mind off the bad thoughts that were haunting my mind by asking that question. I wanted to shake my head in response, but couldn't. However, I didn't have a chance to reply because Dean and Sam looked at Cas, worried, but more so confused. The angel took his time to explain everything we've spoken about so far, and that gave me some room to breathe and try to place all the new information.

Supernatural beings exist. Turns out I'm not as human as I thought I was, then again, it would explain why I have those nasty attacks and visions. And not being from this world didn't end up being that big of a deal after all? It helped clarify why Cas was unable to 'read me' as he explained. That's why he doesn't know what I am, it's because I'm not from this world.

"By the way, sweetheart." Dean sounded, waking me up from my thoughts. "I'm Dean Winchester, this is my younger brother Sam, and the angel you're laying on is Cas." They're brothers, that actually made a lot of sense.

'Well, nice to meet you guys, I'm Lilly-Mae Mooney, and um -- thanks for saving my life.'

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚡: 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 -

With my eyes focused on the clock that hung on the wall in front of me, I saw the time tick over to midnight, it was now officially the eighth of August. Exactly three weeks ago the boys found me on the concrete floor of a warehouse, a hole through my skull after being shot in the head by Thomas. I was alone in my room at the moment. A room I was gifted by the brothers in their home. Their home they called the bunker. It was cozy here, although I only saw parts of it for a short period of time. My room was located next to Deans, right over Sam's, at least that's what the boys told me.

I was still trapped inside of my own body, still unable to speak or move, however, there was good news, my head injury was healing well, thanks to Cas's angel powers. Who I found out is actually called Castiel, and not Cas. It took him more than two weeks to build up the courage to tell me his full name. I made a complete fool of myself calling him Cas for weeks, even though I didn't know him well enough yet to be addressing him by his nickname.

I assumed the boys were asleep by now it being passed midnight already, but then again they are never up to any good. I've got to know them better with time, and I'd like to think they kind of like me by now? Castiel usually talks for me, so we were able to have somewhat of a conversation. Cas, however, leaves my cursing out for the most part, which I don't blame him. I tend to curse quite often, but I've told him he doesn't need to make me sound nicer than I really am. He never gave a reply to that... I honestly think he doesn't have the guts to curse himself. Which I assume is normal, him being an angel and all.

"I just don't think it's appropriate for me to curse, Lilly-Mae." His voice filled the room, startling me. I'm never going to get used to him just, popping in like that. As per usual, he apologized for scaring me, and I told him it was fine. That was kind of our ritual by now. He decided to take a seat next to me on the bed, his blue eyes focused on me. I still was unable to move, blink, or look around, so he made sure I was able to see him.

"My apologies for leaving you alone with the brothers today." When I'm alone with Sam and Dean is communicating literally impossible, but I understood that Castiel still had Heaven business to attend.

"How was your day?"

'Well, watching the clock was very interesting.' I replied sarcastically, which the angel didn't appreciate. "Is sarcasm something contagious?" I laughed at his question. The Winchesters are also masters in the practice of sarcasm, but I was a goddess.

'It's something you're born with.' I replied, and if I was able I would've smiled at the butt hurt angel. "And with honestly." He said, and I cursed him for being able to read me like a book.

"Cursing people isn't nice."

'Well, you're not human, now are you?'

"Touché. But Lilly-Mae, we've spoken about this before. Humans need to talk with people about things. It's important for your mental health."

'I can't believe how much that sounds like a Dean sentence. Did Dean tell you that?' The angel was concerned about me, for all the right reasons. I was trapped in my own head. Left alone with my thoughts for weeks now. I had built a private movie theater for myself up in my mind, and the movie that had been playing for weeks; Being Mauled by Werewolves, featuring Thomas Reed.

"You want to talk about Thomas?"

'What else do you want me to say about him, Castiel? We talk about him daily, it doesn't help. He's dead, but that's the thing about life, isn't it? No one makes it out alive.' He took a deep breath as his eyes left me behind to look in front of him. "I suppose you're right about that... And like I've said before, it's okay for you to call me Cas."

'When you start calling me Lilly.' I thought in defense. His eyes met mine again, an annoyed look on his face, and a long silence followed. He forced me to start thinking again, he forced me to go back to that damn seat in my theater. Flashes of him were all I saw. I could hear his voice again, screaming. I could almost feel his presence again, panicked. I once again started drowning in sorrow and heartache. No one ever tells you how much grief feels like fear. Two tears rolled down the sides of my face when I couldn't hold them back any longer.

'It's been three weeks Cas, three weeks ago he stopped breathing and I continued. I'm not over him.' I cried out mentally. His expression softened at my pain. "I'm not asking of you to get over him. I don't expect you to ever do so, I know what he meant to you, Lilly." He regretted pressuring me into confessing how I felt, but as he told me before, it had to happen. I had to talk, I needed a bit of help to process what's happened in a correct manner.

"You're strong and smart, but instead of breaking yourself down, you need to start defending yourself." He spoke words of wisdom and I agreed, but applying that theory wasn't all that easy. He gave me a moment to recollect my calmness and get my emotions under control before speaking.

"I've something for you." He said while revealing a phone with a headset attached. "I don't know if you enjoy music, but I popped by Dean's room before visiting you and took these with. I thought it could keep you entertained."

'You want Dean to get mad at me for stealing his music?' I asked playfully, but was thankful. "I doubt Dean will suspect you for stealing it, considering you are unable to move."

'Touché.' I said laughing. 'Thanks, Castiel.'

"What music do you like?" He asked while placing the headset over my ears.

'Honestly, right now I could listen to everything. Except for Justin Bieber... I don't do JB.' I saw him scrolling through Spotify while he was looking for a playlist he thought I'd enjoy. He eventually clicked on a playlist called 'A Brutal Rip in Reality' and alternative music started playing. It was literal music to my ears.

"I'll quickly heal you, and then I'll leave you to enjoy your music." The angel said, but I barely heard him due to the music. 'Is good, thanks Cas.' He pressed two times on the volume button to turn the music louder, completely blocking out all the sound around me, before standing up ready to start healing me. Joke's On You by Charlotte Lawrence was playing as the room lit up, that warm feeling flowing through me of Cas's grace healing the cells within my body. The music was the best thing that had happened to me in weeks, and when I was completely lost in it, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to enjoy it even more.

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath?

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗: 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍 -

My heart was beating and I was breathing. I had the smallest control over my facial muscles and I wanted to scream of happiness, but couldn't. The angel that stood next to me equally surprised at the sight of me showing signs of life. My eyes flew back open, immediately meeting the blue ones of Cas.

'You see this?' I asked overwhelmed, he nodded after having lost his words himself. His hard work finally started to show results and judging by his response, it looked like he might've lost hope. He had lost faith in himself for not being able to kick some life back into me. But he did manage, there I laid, breathing. "Are you able to speak?" He asked, and I had to give it a try. A hoarse noise left my throat as a heavy, forced breath.

'Doesn't look like it.'  I informed him, kind of disappointed, but I guess I should be happy with small steps. Without saying another word, the angel left the room leaving me alone for a couple of minutes to return with the brothers by his side.

Turned out I was still trapped in my own body.  However, it still worked after weeks of being deceased, so did my brain, it was like the two just lost the connection. The one not longer linked with the other.

"Strange..." Castiel said who stood at the foot end of my bed, next to him the oldest Winchester, both their eyes focused on me. "As far as I can tell, there's not too much brain damage to detect." He continued.

"But, half her brain was literally splattered all over the floor?" Asked Dean. In the few weeks I've known him, I had learned to appreciate his brutal honesty.

"So how can there not be too much damage? I know you've been healing her Cas, but you said it yourself, you can't create new brain parts that would replace the missing?" Questioned Sam who was sitting next to me on the bed.

'Magic.' I thought. "Magic." Castiel translated aloud, a small chuckle to be found in his voice. "Very funny, Lilly." Sighed the youngest brother while he was busy trying to feed me by a feeding tube he would lower into my throat because I was unable to swallow for myself. Ironic, isn't it? I didn't need the other half of my brain to live, but apparently, I still had to eat. Everything was so damn -- illogical

"If you're looking for logic, you ended up in the wrong universe." Answered Cas to me. My thoughts weren't my own anymore.

"My apologies." I didn't blame the angel for constantly lurking around in my thoughts, it's because of him that I'm still here, and alive.

I gagged because Sam removed the feeding tube incorrectly. "I'm sorry --" He apologized every time it happened, but it also happened every time Sam fed me because I have a weirdly sensitive gag reflex.

"It's okay, she just has a sensitive gag reflex." Castiel informed the others, oversharing my thoughts again. It was as if the angel didn't understand that humans don't like to just mindlessly share everything, with everyone. He didn't fully understand sarcasm or other non-straight to the point things. My eyes drifted towards Cas as I saw him tilt his head lightly to the left. My mind confused him, which was pretty entertaining to watch. I wondered if he would ever leave my thoughts alone to be my own again.

"Just so you know, I don't tend to read people's minds if not necessary. I am aware that doing so is rude." Did I just hurt his feelings? "He learned that the hard way." Dean added with a laugh. Looks like my mind wasn't the only one he used to snoop around in. "I don't see what is overshared about telling the brothers that you have a sensitive gag reflex?" He confusedly looked around the room, meeting everyone's eyes, looking for an answer. I know he's an angel and all, but he was too damn innocent. Dean wore a small smirk while patting Cas on the shoulder. "I don't know about you guys, but I could use some coffee." He continued, before turning his back to us, ready to leave the room. My eyes slowly made their way over to Sam who was still sitting on my bed, wondering if he was going to accept Dean's offer. He shook his head. "Yeah -- I think I prefer sleep, it's like one AM dude."

"Perfect time to do some more research." The oldest brother left the room as Sam started to clean the mess he made while feeding me. They attempted to find out what I was by looking through old smelly books, but me not being from this world made that task a lot more complicated. So far I still didn't show any reasons to not be human, apart from maybe surviving a bullet to the head, but if angels exist, so do miracles. And of course being able to sense out other dimensions, and maybe still being alive while my heart clearly stopped beating... Yeah, I wasn't human.

"Hey, Lilly?" Sam's voice pulled me out of my train of thoughts and I managed to make eye contact with the youngest brother, making him smile a bit. "I never noticed your tattoo before." He briefly rubbed over the moon tattoo I had on my left wrist with his right index finger. It was a simple line tattoo of the three phases of the moon.

"It is a tattoo of the three phases of the moon." The angel that was still present in the room helped me out a bit, making Sam's attempt at a conversation go smoother. "Yeah -- I can see that, does it have a meaning?"

'I'm a moonchild... so I thought, the moon. Honestly, I was drunk off my ass when I got that tattooed.'  

Castiel cleared his throat after having heard my response, I might have surprised him by saying I was drunk off my ass, but I'd like to think that I made him laugh. "Uh -- She said that she is a moonchild." Explained Cas to Sam, and not more, before the Winchester could ask what that meant I made Castiel's attention go back to me.

'Hey, I made a joke, well.. it wasn't a joke, I was actually hammered, but make me sound funny for once, Cas.'  

He briefly bit his bottom lip before speaking. "She also said, and I quote; 'Honestly, I was drunk off my ass when I got that tattooed.'" Sam laughed, victory, but on the other hand, Cas looked at me, disapproving. I managed to make a small smile appear on my face for just a moment, causing his harsh look to soften a bit.

"A moonchild? What does that mean?" Sam asked after having cleared his throat to get over his laughter. Before I could describe it to Castiel, he was already explaining it.

"A moonchild is someone born under the Cancer zodiac sign. They're known for being unique and curious souls. They tend to daze off quite easily, preferring to spend time in their fantasy world instead of having to live in this harsh reality. You could refer to them as being dreamers." To my surprise, the angel knew exactly what it was.

"When were you born?" Sam continued to ask, after having listened carefully to all the words Castiel had said. 'June twenty-first of nineteen eighty-five.'

"Ah, so you're twenty-five. Honestly thought you were a bit older." Sam smiled causing his cute ass dimples in his cheeks to appear, creating the urge in me to punch him in the face.

'I'll take that as a compliment I suppose.'

"She'll take that as a compliment. Yet she feels like punching you in the face?" The angel sounded confused but lucky for me, Dean entered the room again, in his hands his computer and a mug filled to the brim with coffee. "I had the best idea while I was making coffee." He said, a smile on his face. "Everyone likes movies, right? So, Lilly, I thought, you're probably bored out of your mind. Mind watching a movie with me?" It was impossible to resist his offer, yet I had to play hard to get. 'Depends on what movie you wanna watch.' Cas spoke my words aloud. "How about you choose, princess? Just one rule, no Frozen, anything but Frozen." Good to know that we're on the same wavelength.

That same night Dean sat next to me on the bed as we watched Life of Pi, which funny enough, he actually thought it was about pie, as in the dessert. We didn't talk throughout the entire movie, but he didn't seem to mind the awkward silence. Cas had left us once we started watching, to do what Dean was originally planning on doing, trying to find out what I am. Trying to find something that would get me on my feet again.

When the movie was over and the Winchester closed the laptop, he looked at me.

"Lilly." His eyes scanned my face, looking for the smallest response. He was acting strange and I didn't know what to expect. "I want you to know that you're going to be fine again. I don't know when, but you'll make it. We'll put you back together." That was the first time the Winchester and I had a private one-sided conversation without the angel reading my mind, or that of the apple-green eyed man sitting in front of me. He gave me a small smile before standing up and leaving the room to close the door behind him.  

That night I managed to fall asleep after having listed to my own heartbeat, after having watched my rib cage expand as I inhaled the musky air that filled the bunker for hours. They felt the urge to take care of me as if I was one of their cases. They had to fix me, they felt responsible although I was the one that had managed to screw up my own life. They were going to put me back together, he said. That could only mean one thing, he knew I was broken.

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝙻𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 -

Groaning, I slowly started to wake up from a long deep sleep. My body hurt, my head was pounding, the muscles in my neck tense and soar. I was freezing cold and when a chilled gust of wind blew over me, I knew something was wrong.

I opened my eyes, staring straight up at the billions of stars that decorated the night sky. I was no longer in the bunker, instead, I laid in the middle of a hard asphalt road in a town I wasn't familiar with. The adrenaline that kicked in made me jump up, quickly looking around me to see if I was safe, like a prey animal in danger. I found myself standing in a long street, bright colored lights lit up the area like neon signs. The street, however, was empty, no people were walking on the sidewalk, no cars were driving on the road. I watched as a big traffic light switched to red in the distance.

It was quiet, really quiet. Almost too quiet to be a big town like this. Shaking my head briefly, I decided to do what was smartest, and that was to get off that road. As I started walking towards the sidewalk, my eyes looked at my legs. I didn't realize until now. I could move? I could walk? My feet stopped moving immediately after I realized, right next to one of the parked cars that stood on the road.

"Wait... What?" I whispered confused while looking at my own two hands, moving my fingers slowly, wearing a small smile on my face. My fingers brushed over my lips after having heard my own voice for the first time in weeks. I quickly moved to look at myself in the window of the parked car. I saw a reflection staring back at me that I barely recognized. After having lost so much weight I barely looked like myself. I softly squeezed in the little meat that still covered my cheekbones before laying a single finger on the car's window to make sure it was really me. Our fingers touched as conformation.

A scream coming from the distance caught my attention, that was the first sound I've heard since I woke up apart from my own whispering, and my feet started mindlessly running. Not knowing what I would encounter, my mind questioned why my first reaction was to go after it.

A single scream made it almost impossible for me to know where it exactly came from, and I came to a stop in the middle of a big intersection. Looking around in circles as I tried to find the source of the noise, who exactly needed help. Scanning the surroundings made me question where I was even more. I had never seen a town quite like this before. Streetlamps gave off a bright magenta color, while storefronts were lit with blue neon lamps. Brands and names flashing in different colors that were being reflected on the wet asphalt road.

I turned around once more, looking into the street on my right side, my breathing heavy and loud when I saw it. About six hundred feet away from me stood a person in the middle of the road. We had direct eye contact as I looked into the bright blue eyes that were focused on me. Billions of questions started rolling through my mind as I looked at the vague person standing in the distance. Was that the individual that had screamed? Maybe that being was the cause of someone else's screaming.

It disappeared, running behind the cars, in between some houses. And just like that my body started moving again. Running as fast as I could I tried to make my way over there. So fast that my feet had trouble following. The cold wind blowing through my hair as I went faster and faster. Eventually closing my eyes as I ran at my top speed. My soul got pulled back home, to the fields where I had ran through so many times. Tears started flowing down my cheeks as images of Thomas started to fill my mind again.

Out of breath and almost tripping as I came to a stop, I now stood where that person was standing not too long ago.

"Hello?" I screamed, looking into the alleyway the person had disappeared in just seconds ago. To my surprise, the alley was empty, apart from lightbulbs laying on the stairs that would connect this road with the one above. I took a deep shaky breath before I started walking again. I knew I was making the one big mistake every character makes in a horror movie, to afterward die in the most horrible way, but there was no stopping my feet. Something in me said to follow those lightbulbs that laid one by one, on every step of the stairs. Even though they weren't attached to an electricity source, they were lit up with cold blue-white light. With my eyes on the small lights at my feet, I made my way up the staircase.

There was something truly odd about this place, and when I finally arrived at the other side of the alleyway, I was once again greeted by the person I was seeking after. It was now clear to me that it was a man judging by his build, but his face was still not visible due to him standing inside the door opening of a house, on the other side of the road.

"Hello?" I once again asked for a reply but he didn't give it to me, instead, he smiled, his blue eyes glowing almost as bright as the storefronts. I swallowed slowly at his weird behavior, before he disappeared again, walking into the house and leaving me standing at the other side, clueless. "Do you want me to follow you? Do you need help?" I asked but obviously didn't get a response. After shaking that weird feeling he gave me, I walked towards the house, my hands as fists hung next to my thighs as I put my first step inside of the building. My eyes drifted to the floor, which there wasn't one. I was looking down another staircase, this one made out of white tiles, surrounded by walls made out of the same tilework as the floor. It looked like an entrance to an underground tram line. Bright green light bounced off the shiny tiles and once again, my body started to move. With quick tiny steps, I ran down the stairs, my hand lightly brushing over the cold metal handrail that was attached to the wall.

Once I made it down I was greeted by a long tunnel made out of the same tiles, lit up by the same vibrant green lights. I ran through it as quickly as possible and came to a stop at the empty platform. Soft music was playing through old static speakers, and again my eyes went looking for my next clue. It didn't take me long to find where he was standing this time. At the platform on the other side, at the foot end of yet another staircase. I lowered my eyes, staring at two tram tracks that blocked me from getting to the other side. I was chasing someone I didn't know in a place I was lost in, but I wasn't suicidal.

"How do I get to your side?" I yelled, looking up at him, still unable to make something of his facial features. My heart stopped beating when his voice filled my ears.

"It's just some rails, Lilly. Do something risky for once."

It was Thomas's voice, and it made me feel sick. Gasping for air I stared at him while I bit on my teeth as I did my best to not pass out. My body came in action again, slowly moving towards him while I dragged my feet over the white tiles. The entire time my feet were the ones I was chasing, but now my feet had to listen to my heart.

I jumped off the platform onto the rails, briefly looking to either side before carefully crossing both tracks, to crawl back up the other platform. My eyes shot up, ready to meet Thomas, but he was gone, and not a second later I was sprinting up those stairs. Looking up, expecting to see the exit, I saw nothing, nothing but darkness. The green lights slowly started to disappear the higher I climbed until I was running up the stairs in pure blackness. Right when I thought these stairs would never end, my lungs filled themselves with fresh air as I was greeted by the stars again. To my surprise, I came above ground not in the town, but in a forest. I made a quick hundred and eighty degrees turn to look for the town that should lay behind me, but no, there was nothing else to see but trees.

I once again made a classic horror movie mistake by yelling, hoping for that person to reply. There were no longer any weird lights to be seen. It was dark and the moist forest air gave me goosebumps. That and the fact that I was standing alone in the middle of a forest at night. I tried listening to my feet to see if they still knew where they wanted to go, but they didn't, they were listening to my heart that had also lost its way. Slowly my eyes drifted from the staircase that was surrounded by bushes and leaves, to the big empty in front of me. I almost missed those ridiculously vibrant bright lights looking at the few trees I could see. The rest of the forest was being gulped up by a dark fog that slowly crept over.

With all of my courage gathered together, I dared venture in the unknown. I didn't know what I was seeking after, apart from the man I had been chasing, that now had completely disappeared. Small branches gave away under the weight of my feet as I walked further away from the stairs that had let me here. However, I made sure I walked in a straight line, in case I had to get out of here again, it was as simple as turning around and walking back.  

Being alone in the forest with nothing to see or hear but the animals in hiding, my train of thoughts started rolling again. I was sure it was Thoms's voice that I had heard, but he didn't look like Thomas as far as I could tell. I still didn't see his face fully, but their builds didn't match. I was chasing something I didn't know, I had no clue of its intentions, I was unsure of my own. But what I did know was that I wanted to try to find out what it was I was seeking after, and if I didn't try, I would never know. I wanted to walk among the thing that sparked my curiosity.

I loved nature, walks in the forest. The silent whispers of the wise old trees healed my soul as I cleansed my mind. Nature is pure, yet bares millions of dark deep secrets that would only see sunlight again the day it decides to show itself.

I had been walking for what felt like hours, while small silent whispers rolled over my tongue, humming a song that was able to soothe me in the most terrifying moments. I was whispering the words of a song called 'Little Boy in the Grass by Aurora' and it was one of my favorites. It kept my mind of the eyes that were lurking from the shadows, the creatures that followed me into the night. They weren't really there, at least that's what I hoped. Darkness makes you hallucinate the scariest images.

My mind was drowning in questions I asked myself, but was unable to answer. How did I get here? Why do I continue walking? Why is it that I'm able to walk? With my hands hidden in the sleeves of my oversized hoody, my feet kept going at a steady pace, my eyes fixed on the darkness in front of me. I was brave and for once, I had my own back.

By now I had hoped that the sun would've come up, but it didn't. The darkness was still here and it was here to stay. I had accepted that I would never be able to find that damned staircase again, and I honestly didn't know if I even wanted to attempt to find it. I had made my peace with being in the forest, that was poorly lit by the many stars above, by the moon I was walking under as it smiled at me. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice at first, but then, out the thick darkness appeared a man. On his face a frightened expression. We made eye contact as my feet stopped moving and my heart stopped beating.

"Hello?" He spoke, unsure if I was real. "Yes?" I replied, worried, he didn't look good. "Are you also lost?" He asked, attempting to get closer to me but I kept my distance. "I don't know." I replied, I was unsure if I was lost or not. I didn't know where I was, but I didn't know where I wanted to go either. "What's your name?" I asked while kind of covering my body behind one of the many trees as a barrier between myself and the young man that was still coming closer. "I don't know." He replied. "What's yours?"

"Lilly. Are you okay?"

"Are you?" He asked, causing me to become speechless. "You're not okay." He took the words right out of my mouth. "He has been following you, in case you're wondering. You're his favorite now." My eyes instantly jumped behind me, looking for the thing that had been following me, just to find nothing, nothing but an empty forest. "Who has been following me?" I asked without laying my eyes on the young man. I was too terrified of the darkness behind me to turn my back on it again. "Him. But he doesn't like us talking. He doesn't like me anyway."

"Who is he?" I asked upset while turning around, I yelped when I saw the young man standing next to me, his eyes lifeless as he wore a small forced smile. "You've seen him, you know who he is, he managed to lure you into the forest."

"I didn't see his face, I don't know who he is?" I asked while slowly walking backward, trying to create distance between us.

"Of course you didn't see his face, he doesn't have one." The boy replied with a monotone voice, before his eyes jumped to something. I followed his gaze but saw nothing, nothing but black.

"He doesn't like us talking." He repeated himself. "Why not? Why doesn't he like us talking?" I asked out of breath, trying to find answers. "Because you're his favorite and I'm not. He doesn't want me talking to you..."  He sounded scared, but more so heartbroken. "Are you looking at him right now?" I asked while my eyes were still trying to figure out what he was looking at. "No, but he's looking at us." My entire body started to tingle at the thought of something lurking out of the shadows, and the way the boy was describing it. It was something big and bad.

"Maybe if..." He spoke softly as his gaze drifted from the darkness to me. "Maybe that way I could become his favorite again..." His thoughts were bleeding over into reality as he once again started to walk in my direction, his eyes fixated on me. My heart started to beat faster, his mind was in a million places while he tried to figure out his own thoughts. "I'll become his favorite again, if you're dead." He pulled a small knife out of his jeans pocket, pointing it at me, ready to start cutting and slicing. "If I kill you, he'll have to love me!" He screamed, lashing out. The sharp iron barely missed my skin as I jumped back, just cutting through the fabric of my hoody.

"Whoa -- wait! I don't wanna be his favorite!" I yelled in defense, walking backward as fast as I could. He had gone mad and tried to do everything in his power to cut through my flesh, waving wildly in the air with the knife as tears started to flow down his cheeks. "You don't have to kill me, I'll leave and never come back, I promise! I don't wanna be his favorite!" I continued to yell excuses, trying to make him stop, but it was useless. I tripped, landing with my back against a tree, he came closer, his eyes drowning in salty water that turned the whites of his eyes red. The knife pointed at me, shimmering in the moonlight. I tried to prepare myself to be stapped over and over again until I didn't breathe any longer. My hands digging in the moist forest ground as I bit on my teeth, my eyes closed. I was ready, ready to die.

"No!" He screamed, my eyes flew back open to see him standing in front of me, but his attention was focused on something else. "No, please!" He begged, walking backward. He was terrified, his knife fell from between his fingers as he made a run for it. As fast as he could he tried to get away from whatever was chasing him, and by the looks of it, it was pissed. "Please, stop!" His voice was to be heard from a distance, struggling. I tried to not pay attention to it as I crawled over to the knife that he had left behind. I was no longer safe, I had to be able to defend myself. When the sharp object was safely hidden I stood up, wondering where that boy ran off to, I made a quick three hundred-and-sixty-degree rotation to see if I could find him, and I did. In the distance a bright green light started to shine, revealing the young man that was looking around him like a deer in headlights.

"Please!" He begged before his feet left the ground, gasping for air he grabbed his throat tightly. Choking as he started to levitate higher in the sky, the surrounding debris of the forest following in his footsteps. Everything hovered around him while he was struggling for air, fighting to stay alive, trying to defeat whatever energy it was that was attacking him. Speechless I stood and watched what was happening in front of my eyes, having trouble with breathing myself.

Everything fell to the ground, the light went out like a broken lightbulb, and that was when I realized that I now was the one being chased, no longer the other way around. I didn't hesitate and once more, I ran, I ran as fast as I could, dodging the trees, jumping over sticks and fallen over trees. I was running from something big and powerful, but most terrifying, something I was unable to see.

The fear I went through that night at the auction house was something that would stick with me forever, and after that happened I thought I had grown stronger, tougher. But I hadn't, I was afraid and when panic takes over, you lose control over your body. You're capable of doing this you ever thought you would be, in my case; running for hours without looking back. My feet were bleeding, my lips cracked due to the cold air, and when I finally left the forest, I practically fell onto the street in the city I woke up in hours ago. Tripping over my own feet, gasping for air as sweat dripped down my face I ran towards the first house I came across, fists banging on the door.

"Hello!" I cried out hopelessly. "I need help, please!" My eyes shifted fast back and forth between the door and the forest that laid behind me. No one opened the door, so I moved onto the next. Again, no response. I decided to take even bigger measures, I ran around the corner into another street, standing in the middle of the road, screaming for help. And that's when I realized I had come full circle. I stood eye in eye with someone down the street, electric blue eyes just, staring at me. Turns out I wasn't done running yet.

I barged into an apartment building after having kicked in the door, running up the stairs as fast as I could, because I was certain that, that individual that I locked eyes with, was coming for me. I climbed level after level until I reached the last, running down the hall past the many empty apartments. I had cornered myself, hopelessly looking through the window at the end of the hall before turning around, to see that person turn the corner, walking towards me.

"Hello?" A familiar voice bounced off the walls, and without thinking twice I turned my back, opening the window before I jumped. My body hit something as hard as concrete, but when water started to fill my lungs and I gasped for air I knew I didn't fall onto a street. I had fallen in a big body of water. Trying to swim back up, seeking oxygen I finally started to lose my mind.

"What's going on?!" I screamed as soon as my head came above water. Now soaked and even more so freezing cold than before I made it back onto land. Once again I stood in the middle of the forest, billions of stars above my head. I yelled as loud as I could out of pure frustration, before punching into the bark of one of the many trees, making my knuckles bleed. After having physically worked out my anger I allowed myself to sit down and rest. I was sick of it, sick of running, sick of trying to hide for something I didn't know. I was so sick of being scared.

Taking a deep breath as I tried to clear my head and calm down, I remembered something. The supernatural being that saved my life, the one that can read my mind and hear my prayers. Just like that my eyes flew back open, staring at the night sky above me.

"I'm probably talking to myself here, but Castiel? Can you hear me?" My voice sounded calm and collected. I waited a couple of minutes for him to reply or for him to pop up and scare me like always, but he didn't. I was truly alone, or at least that's what I thought.

"Lilly, c'mon..." Thomas's voice filled my ears again, terrified I looked up to where the noise came from. The man I've had been chasing stood in front of me, but not close, on the lake I had fallen into. On top of the water. "Thom?" I asked genlty and carefully.

"Come here." He spoke, and my heart started to beat faster again. Slowly I stood up without taking my eyes off him, trying to figure out if it was really him. I lowered my eyes to see how his feet touched the water, a bright blue light circle underneath him that created tiny waves. "You're standing on water?" I asked confused as the tips of my feet stopped in front of the liquid.

"Lilly-Mae, come here."

"But, I can't?"

"Yes, you can." I took a deep breath and ventured out into the water, but to my surprise, the liquid was solid underneath my foot. The same bright blue light circle was created when I took my first step. Carefully, I took another step as I watched how another wave effect of light was created. I just accepted that I could walk on water and focused on the man in front of me again, walking towards him. The closer I got to him, the clearer he became.

The silhouette of his body already gave allot away, most importantly, he wasn't human. Big antlers stood on his head as his arms were long and strong. Only a couple of feet was left between us when his face was visible. The boy had warned me, he didn't have a face, at least not that I could see. An animal skull within the eye sockets nothing but darkness was looking at me.

"Are you scared?" He asked, for the first time using his real voice. A chill crawled its way up my spine at the deep vibration of his voice. "Should I be?" I asked, trying to sound brave and confident. He shook his head, causing the vegetation that crawled up his body into his antlers to sway back and forth. When I stood in front of him, my eyes looked up from the bright blue light coming from underneath our feet, to at his face. "Who are you?" I asked, trying to get some more information out of him. "I go by many names." He replied. "Are you God?" He laughed in a deep tone. "Depends on how you look at it."

"Where are we?" I asked looking at the stars that reflected in his black eyes. "Lunar Forest."

"Is this real?"

"Do you want it to be real?" He asked, grinning.  I could walk again, I wasn't a dead corpse laying in a strangers bed, but I don't know if I wanted to live in a place like this. Think I'd rather be dead in a somewhat more normal place.

"You know where this is heading, right Lilly?" I shook my head at his question, finally realizing how weird he was, wondering why I wasn't afraid of him. "How do you know my name?" I asked, trying to avoid eye contact. "Because I know you, now stop distracting me, and say you surrender yourself to me." He said demanding. I gasped at his tone, not sure what he meant. "Lilly, I brought you all this way, I protected you from James, I killed him, for you. Do not let me down." He growled as he came closer to me, forcing me into looking at his eyes. "What do you mean that I have to surrender to you?" I asked, trying to create more distance from him. "Say you will be mine, that you will stay with me, forever." He tilted his shoulders back, becoming even bigger and broader than he already was.

"I don't know you? You brought me into a weird-ass world, I've been terrified for days? Why would I want to stay here, with you out of all beings?" The words spilled over my lips as if they were poisonous, they enraged him. His build became even larger the more he stretched out, towering over me as he looked down onto me.

"Have it your way." He spat out, before disappearing into thin air. The water I was standing on had changed out for a black floor with only a thin layer of the water left, still those lively blue light circles to be seen under my feet. The trees and nature around me started to fall apart like a house of cards. And when it was just me, the water under my feet and the night sky filled with clouds, I lost it.

"No!" I screamed hopelessly as I looked around me, to find nothing else but endless darkness. "Come back!" I was standing in my biggest fear. Being trapped, alone. "Please!" I shrieked, fallen to the ground on my knees, a big circle of blue light as a result. The clouds over my head started to become thicker, darker, sparks of green light crawling through them like veins. Stinging rain started to fall down, burning my skin on contact. There was a thunderstorm forming in the sky, and I didn't stop calling out to him.

"Don't leave me alone!"

Thunder rumbling sounded, in the distance the static sound of lightning strikes that were coming closer and closer. Vague words were to be heard, they were being repeated over and over again, but I couldn't make anything off it.

"Mahday, eelohtah sahn. Serloh, eelohtah."

"I surrender, please! Come back!" A single green vibrant lightning strike struck down not too far in front of me, making me blind, causing my ears to bleed and ring.

"I surrender!" I cried out, looking up at the sky, my hands reaching out for it. Right before my body came in contact with one of the lightning bolts, flashes of green flowing through my veins were the last thing I saw, immense pain flowing along side it. I thought I was going to pass out, but --

I gasped for air, jumping up, looking straight into a pair of worried blue eyes. Quickly looking around to see where I was located at now, I found myself in the bunker, next to me on the bed sat Castiel, his hands covered in something dirty. At the desk in my room stood the two brothers, in Dean's hands a bowl containing bright green flames, next to him Sam who was holding an empty glass bottle.

"Lilly-Mae, calm down, you're okay, it was just a dream." Castiel spoke, and not much after I passed out.

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚎: 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗' 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 -

A lock that opened, followed by the noise of a creaking door woke me from my sleep. I was in pain, but felt free. I stretched, cracking all the joints in my body and it was the best feeling I had felt in weeks. After debating it for a while, I decided to open my eyes and wake up fully from my long and peaceful sleep. Yawning, I looked in front of me and was greeted by Dean.

"Mornin' sunshine." He spoke while wearing a small smile on his face. "Didn't mean to wake you, just came to check up on you." My eyes scanned the room, looking for the angel so I could reply, but before I knew it my own thoughts spilled over into words.

"It's okay." I spoke softly, my own voice caught me off guard, scaring me. Both Dean and I were quiet for a while after that, processing the fact that I just said two words. "Holy crap..." I whispered, looking at my own body, at my toes that were wiggling from underneath the blanket, at my hands I was able to open and close. "Welcome back." The Winchester said while he took a seat next to me on the bed. "You fixed me?" I asked, slightly tripping over my own words as I went along. Feeling my tongue move again was odd, then again I've always found tongues to be weird. "We, fixed you." He corrected me, sounding rather proud. "How? What happened?"

"How about we talk about that in the library with the others?" I nodded, it was about time that I left this room. Don't get me wrong, I was happy that I was granted this room, but I was so sick of it. "Yes." I replied impatiently, while I threw the blankets off of me. "You want me to carry you over?" Dean asked as I struggled to hang my legs over the side of the bed, but I shook my head. "Just support me a bit." Dean did as I asked, he hooked his arm under my arms, around my back while I threw my right arm around his neck. "Ready?" I nodded, and we slowly stood up together. My legs shaking, even though Dean was carrying a lot of my weight as he was tilted sideways to support me, because of our height difference.

I put one foot in front of the other, slowly I was walking with Dean alongside me, to the door of my bedroom, ready to leave it. My heart was beating with excitement, my body slightly tingling because of the little stress I was feeling. I tried my best to hide the fact that this moment made me emotional. After weeks of dark thoughts, wishes about just wanting to die, and for this to be over. I was doing it, although the shaking of my legs was driving me insane. We were walking in the hallway, passing Dean's room where I briefly laid my eyes on. It was a mess, but I didn't expect differently.

When my left knee gave away under too much weight that I forced upon it, I snapped. "I already was a weak bitch, but now I'm like a freaking spaghetti noodle." I grumbled, making Dean laugh who was able to catch me right before I would've slipped away. "You'll get your little strength back in no time." He added jokingly, causing my angry eyes to meet his. "I wasn't that weak..." I mumbled, acting as if I was hurt by his comment, and we started to walk again. I couldn't believe I already went through these halls before, they felt so unfamiliar. I suppose I was half out due to the shock and bloodloss while Cas carried me down these halls to get me to my bedroom. Part of me wondered what this place was. I knew it was some type of headquarters of a cult of some sort, but the boys didn't explain it fully. Dean who spoke pulled me out of my thoughts. "You know I don't tend to be the soft type, but you've no clue how happy I am to finally hear your voice." He awkwardly staired in front of him as he tried not to make eye contact, in such a touchy-feely moment. "That makes the two of us." I replied, right before we stopped at some steps, in front of us a big room. My voice that bounced off the walls, echoing through the building caught Sam's and Castiel's attention.

"Lilly?" Sam sounded before he ran into the room, in the middle stood a table, at the side a staircase that led upstairs. With a bit of help from Dean, I was able to walk those few steps before meeting the youngest brother. I smiled, I didn't know what else to do, and when the angel entered the room, a relieved expression on his face, my gaze drifted off towards him.

"Would you look at her, eh? Walking and talking." Dean said with a big proud smile painted on his face. "Yeah, kinda." I replied, referring to that the apple-green eyed man was carrying eighty percent of my weight. My voice that filled the room again made everyone go quiet for a second.

"What? My voice isn't what you imagined it to be?" I asked with a laugh, I didn't really expect anyone to answer that question, but the innocent angel did. "Not quite, you sound very different in your thoughts." I didn't even know that was possible. When my legs gave away again and Dean was fast enough to catch me, everyone came in action to get me a chair. Dean carried me bridal style to a chair that Castiel had pulled back for me. Sitting at the table that stood in the middle of the room, on top a world map that was lit up from underneath, the others joined me.

My finger traced the lines on the map as I waited for someone to say something. I understood that it was a strange sight for them to see me sitting up, not looking dead. "Lilly-Mae?" Castiel asked, and my eyes met his. "Are you okay?" He asked, and I nodded. "Yeah, think so... my tongue feels weird though." I said, before sticking it out, trying to look at it, awkwardly moving it around as I tried to get used to the feeling. Sam who was sitting across from me looked at me with a smile. My bare toes were tiptoeing on the cold tiles while my finger went back to tracing the map. I allowed the boys to get used to the sight of me, while I tried to get used to being able to move and feel again. "Lilly asked me how we pulled it off." Dean broke the silence, reminding me of the question I had asked him before.

"We found a spell that should heal a vessel, technically a body is a vessel, so we decided to give it a try." Answered Sam. "What's a vessel?" I asked curiously. "A human body possessed by an angel or a demon." Castiel informed me, and I locked eyes again with him. "So that means that —?" I asked, pointing up and down his body. "Yes, this isn't my true form. This body belonged to Jimmy Novak, a good faithful man."

"Belonged?"

"He sadly passed away." Cas had been Cas for me for weeks now, but now knowing his body isn't his, it made me feel rather uneasy. "So, you could possess my body?" I asked, but he shook his head. "Not just like that, you would have to give me permission first. Demons, on the other hand, can take what they want." Ugh, demons, nasty ass beings. I had so many questions about the supernatural, but Sam asked me something first. "Lilly, do you remember what happened four days ago?" I shook my head slightly, seeking eye contact from Castiel again that would calm me down. "Four days?" I asked. "Yeah, you were out for four days kiddo." Dean replied. I had slept for four entire days? I suppose my body had to recover from the spell they performed on me. Vague flashbacks of green flames and Castiel's hands covered in something dirty filled my head.

"So, that spell is why I'm back alive?" Castiel nodded. They did it. When they dragged me out of that auction house that one day, I expected to die laying in the car, but didn't. Day by day I thought, this is going to be my last one. But they actually did it. They put me back together. "Thank you..." I spoke softly, hoping not to choke on the emotions that were trying to flow out. "It's the least we could do." Sam said with a small smile. I didn't know what he meant. They didn't know me, didn't owe me anything. Why did they go through so much trouble to fix me? I had hoped that Cas would give me an answer, but he didn't. Was he still listening to my thoughts? Was my mind my own again? I looked at him, expecting him to tilt his head as my thoughts confused him, but he didn't. I felt -- lonely. I had gotten used to that angel on my shoulder, helping me out with the smallest struggle going through my mind. I rubbed my forehead at the too many things that were going through me.

"Are you okay?" Cas asked who saw me struggle. "Yea, it's just a bit much..." I sighed. All my senses were being stimulated again, and it was overwhelming. I once was in love with being able to feel, all the textures, temperatures, but it now was making me feel so damn uneasy. I expected every feeling going through my nerves to turn out to be painful.

"You wanna go rest some more sweetheart?" Dean asked, also sounding rather worried, but I shook my head. I had slept for way too long, I wanted to explore my temporary home, I wanted to live.

"Then what do you wanna do? It's about 7 PM right now, Dean and I were planning on heading out to go grab some dinner." My stomach was already growling at the idea of solid food, and I wanted to ask if I could join, but once again was Dean faster than I was. "You hungry?" He asked, looking up from having looked at my stomach, he must have heard it begging for food. "Yeah, I could use some food." I replied rather shy, not wanting to come across greedy. "What you feel like? We weren't sure what we wanted yet, but I was thinking like a cheeseburger." The oldest Winchester spoke who was sitting next to me, and my gaze shorty drifted off to Sam who shook his head. "Dean, I don't think it's a good idea to feed her anything that heavy, or unhealthy right now."

"Yeah, I haven't eaten anything but baby food for weeks, I don't think my stomach could handle -- Who am I kidding, of course, I want a freakin' cheeseburger?" I said with a smile, already drooling at the thought of melted cheese and pickles. "See?" Dean said, throwing his hands in the air to make his point come across even more. Sam rolled his eyes, letting a deep sigh of disappointment go. "We'll be back in no time, said Dean who impatiently stood up. They were going to bring take out, but I wanted to go with. I wanted to feel the fresh air brush over my skin, I wanted the smell of polluted air to fill my lungs.

"Can I tag along?" I asked, hoping I would get a positive response, but I received nothing but some looks. It was as if the boys were having a conversation in a wordless language I didn't understand. After they shared some looks, Dean nodded. "Sure kiddo, but um, maybe take a shower first?" Suddle as always, Dean.

I couldn't do anything but agree, I smelled like roadkill, I honestly was roadkill for weeks, laying in that bed for dead. Showering, however, wasn't going to be the easiest task considering I was unable to stand on my own.

"Kay, who's gonna shower with me?" I asked trying to hold back a smile as I scared the crap out of the boys. Silence followed my question, along with broken eye contact and uneasy movements. "I'm kidding guys, but, I do need some type of help cause my muscles are as strong of those of a newborn." They sighed with relief, immediately looking for a solution.

"We could put a chair under the shower?" Sam suggested, it was a smart idea and I agreed. Before I realized it, Dean was carrying me bridal style again to bring me to what I assumed was the bathroom. The angel tagged along, bringing a metal chair, rather than a wooden one so it wouldn't be damaged by the water. We didn't end up in the bathroom however, Dean took me to his room, to put me down on my bed. "Imma fetch you some fresh clothes." He explained with a smile, the angel awkwardly waiting outside with the chair in his arms.

"That's sweet of you, Dean. But I don't know if you've realized, I'm small as hell compared to you, I don't think your clothes will fit in the slightest?" He surprised me when he turned around, holding up his sweatpants, boxers, socks, and then a black tanktop that would never fit him. I gave him a confused look, wondering from where and how he got that.

"Don't question it." He said, handing me the clothes before picking me up again, ready to go to the bathroom this time. Him telling me not to question it, only made me question it even more, although I already had a pretty good idea of how he managed to collect a piece of female clothing. I chuckled a bit at the thought of that poor girl that had forgotten her shirt before she left. "What?" He asked, looking down at me.

"Just wondering how one manages to forget her shirt before leaving. I mean, don't get me wrong, I get it, sometimes you've to leave in a hurry, especially if there's a younger brother involved that could catch you, but your shirt? C'mon..." A cheeky smirk appeared on his lips, breaking the brief eye contact we had, as if he was thinking back to the memory.

"Well, she left with one of my shirts on, one of my favorites actually, it was pretty stupid." He admitted, the angel that was still walking behind us also following the conversation as we turned to enter the bathroom. It wasn't what I expected, the room looked like a shower room from a highschool. Stalls, on either side tiled walls, a thin curtain to give you some more privacy. Castiel put my chair down in the second stall right next to the entrance, and Dean put me down on it. Awkwardly I was looking at the two men who were looking at me proudly, as if they just did a good deed by putting me in a shower stall, on a cold, small, and uncomfortable chair. Dean put my clothes down on a sink on the other side of the room, ready to leave.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked cluelessly. "Shower?" Dean replied, and I knew all too damn well that I had to shower, the question was --

"How?" I asked, wiggling my limbs around like overcooked noodles. "Yes Dean, I don't think it's responsible to leave her alone, she could slip and hurt herself." The angel spoke. "Well, good luck with that, bud." Dean said while padding Cas on the shoulder before leaving the room, leaving us both rather confused behind. Castiel's eyes followed Dean until he left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Great, now my fate was left in the hands of a clueless angel.

"Um..." I spoke, staring at the ground, trying to find a way that this could work out without it becoming too damn awkward.

"Do you want me to shower with you?" He suddenly asked, making my eyes fly up at him.

"No! No..." I said, holding my hands up begging him to stop with whatever he was doing. I realized it came over rather rude as the angel tilted his head slightly to the left. "No, thanks, Cas. I think I'll manage. Maybe just help me a bit with closing the curtain and handing me the towel and my clothes as I go?" I suggested, and he nodded, coming closer to shut the thin curtain. I took a deep breath as I prepared myself to get undressed, hoping that that thin ass piece of fabric was thick enough not to reveal anything. Lucky for me, I was still wearing my pj's I was wearing the day it all happened, still on my bare feet. With a bit of effort, it was relatively easy to pull my shirt over my head, throwing it over the iron bar that held up the curtain. I could hear Castiel react to what I just did, picking up the item. "Do you want me to throw your old clothes away?" He asked, and I gladly gave him permission to get rid of those damned pieces of fabric.

Now, my pants. Struggling to lift up my own weight, hoping not to tilt over the chair, I wiggled them off. Not much later and after having caught my breath for a second, they also landed on the other side of the curtain. The same thing went for my underwear. I could hear Cas throw everything away as the sound of plastic wrinkling filled my ears. I never thought taking off clothing could be that exhausting. I stayed quiet, trying to get my heartbeat to slow down before I would turn on the shower. My silence concerned the angel.

"Lilly-Mae, everything okay?" He asked. "Yea, I'm fine... This just sucks ass." I sighed, biting my teeth while trying to press down my frustrations. After clearing my head I turned the knob, and as per usual when you shower in an unfamiliar shower, the water comes out ice cold. I yelped, trying as fast as I could to turn it the other way. "Fu--"

"Lilly?" Castiel asked worriedly. "It's cold! I'm fine, water is just cold!" I screamed while struggling to turn the wet knob in the right direction. When warm water finally flowed over my body, I relaxed, sitting back waiting for it to become hotter. With my eyes closed, I focused on every droplet rolling down my figure. They dragged so much of my fears, frustrations, and other emotions with them down the drain. It didn't take long for the room to fill itself with steam as the temperature of the water was almost too hot to bear.

The angel at the other side of the shower curtain had gone quiet, patiently waiting for me to finish enjoying the burning hot water that was washing all the dirt and worries away. My arms got tired quickly as I was washing my hair, massaging my own skull as I went. I didn't want this to end, ever. Having been dead for weeks made you appreciate a lot of things way more than before, this being one of them.

"I have showered once." Castiel's voice bounced off the walls, lightly startling me, I almost forgot he was standing in the same room as I was. "I found it to be rather odd, and overwhelming." He explained. "You've only washed yourself once? How long have you been possessing Jimmy?" I asked, finishing up my shower that already had taken so long the angel was losing his patience. "Two years." He replied. "Cas! You need to shower and take care of him? How on earth do you not smell like ass?" I asked. I thought I had offended him because he didn't immediately reply like usual. "I don't need showers, I can take care of my vessel by using my grace."

"Then why did you shower once?" I asked.

"Because I wanted to know what it felt like. I didn't like it."

"Why not? It's the best feeling in the world?"

"Exactly." He replied rather quiet as I turned the water off, waiting for Cas to throw a towel over the iron bar. "What do you mean?" I wondered. "I'm not allowed to feel." He replied as he poked the towel through the curtain with his arm, almost hitting me. It scared me, and I bit my lip trying not to yelp again, biting just a bit too hard. Blood taste filled my mouth as I licked at the wound. "You're not allowed to feel?" I asked slowly as I accepted the towel. "No." He replied simply, no other explanation attached. I decided to drop the conversation knowing it must be a weird angel thing, as I did my best to dry myself off. Not much after, the angel handed me Dean's dark red boxers along with a pair of black socks. They were obviously too big for me, but comfy so I couldn't complain. Putting the underwear on went relatively smooth, as if my little strength like Dean said, was slowly returning. The angel handed me the rest of the clothing without sharing another word. The silence made my mind drift off to the boy's reactions from earlier. They were genuinely happy to see me up and walking. My words made then speechless. It made me think about how Castiel mentioned that I sound different than in my thoughts.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Are you ready?" He asked, still patiently standing outside of the shower stall I was in. "Yeah, but I have got a question." He opened the curtain, smiling down at the sight of me, clean and with my long wet hair still awkwardly sitting on my metal chair. "What's your question?" I cleared my throat before talking. "What did you mean by that my thoughts sound different from my actual voice?" His eyes went to the ground, looking for a good way to reply. When he made up his mind, he made eye contact. "Your thoughts are delicate, compared to the words you speak."

"Delicate, as in weak?" I asked with a shaky voice, he broke eye contact, giving me a single nod as a response. I smiled the emotions away, asking him to bring me back to the Crow's Nest where the boys were waiting, but not by carrying me, by supporting me. I wanted to prove that I wasn't as weak as he thought. With only one arm hooked into his, my body filled with the power to prove myself, we walked back to the Crow's Nest.

"Much better, isn't it?" Dean asked with a smile as he saw me enter the room, alongside me the angel. "Yeah, just hope I never have to shower sitting on a chair ever again."

"Wait 'till you're eighty." Sam said with a laugh as he stood up, ready to leave to grab dinner. I rolled my eyes, leaning on the handrail of the stairs that led to the entrance to the bunker, letting go of Castiel's arm. Even though I had tied the strings of Dean's sweatpants as tight as I could, they were still attempting to fall off, as if they wanted me to flash everyone. The shirt he had given, however, did fit me, and I decided at that very moment that I had claimed that shirt to be my own.

"Ready for some cheesy goodness?" Dean asked smiling, sounding more excited than I was.

"Heck to the yes."

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚗: 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚔𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚎 -

With some help from Sam, I managed to make it to the garage, where Dean's beloved car was parked alongside other old vehicles. I was sitting in the back, right behind the oldest brother, Castiel who wanted to tag along sitting next to me. I didn't remember a whole lot from that one night, but the specific scent of the Impala was something that I recalled vividly. The soft leather felt so much more comfortable than the first time I had touched it.

We were heading to Jiffy Burger, Dean's favorite in Lebanon. It wasn't that far of a drive, about ten minutes away from the bunker. I knew Castiel had realized that his words had caused pain, even if he didn't fully intend them to be hurtful. I could tell because he was quiet the entire ride long, staring out of the window as the brothers shared words.

"What do you guys want?" Dean asked as he parked the car, offering to go and get the food himself. I honestly didn't feel like going back to the bunker, back underground, boxed in between walls. I wanted to stare at the clouds just a little longer. "How about we go inside and eat there? No mess to clean up after, right?" I asked, hoping they would allow me to stay above ground. "You're not wearing shoes, Lilly?" Sam said, pointing over the front seat at the socks from Dean I was wearing. "And?" I asked, not bothered by the fact that I had to walk with them through the mud. "I've worn way weirder crap than this, besides, there are a lot of people that go barefoot through life. I've heard it's good for your back." I gave them a rather weird explanation, trying to convince them anyway. Dean shrugged, not really caring either, just wanting to eat already. "Okay fine, but if they think we've kidnapped you, you're gonna explain everything." Sam sighed before opening his door, ready to head into the diner. Dean followed in his footsteps, leaving the angel and me on the backseat.

The stubbornness was still flowing through me. Wanting to prove myself to him, I opened the door, ready to leave, but he stopped me. "Lilly." He sighed, holding me at my wrist, looking me straight in the eyes. "I know what you're doing." I awkwardly lowered my eyes, looking at how his hand wrapped itself with ease around my weak wrist.

"You only have to prove yourself to yourself, not to me, not to anyone else." He spoke, biting on his teeth at the end of his sentence. He studied my reaction, but there was not much to detect. He might not hack into my mind any longer, but he was still capable of reading me like a book.

"I didn't mean to hurt you by saying you sound weaker in your head than in real life. If you could hear my thoughts, or those of the brothers, you'd think we're pathetic." He let go, and I pulled my arm back slowly, my mind hazy at the words he had spoken.

How was I supposed to prove myself, to myself, when the opinion of others is all that matters to me? Castiel thought I sounded weak deep down, and it had burned me to the ground. Once I would prove myself to him, I could start believing it for myself.

"Yeah, you're right." I smiled, not looking him in the eyes. He probably knew how I really felt, but I didn't care. I was going to prove myself anyways. I opened the door, building up the courage and strength to leave the car when wing fluttering sounded. Cas stood next to me, opening the door for me fully. Damned angels and their ability to teleport around like that. "Let me help you." He said smiling, as he held his hand out towards me, asking me to accept it by laying mine in his. Biting on my teeth I did as he asked, slowly standing up, holding on to nothing else but him.

"Sam was right, you know? People are gonna find this suspicious. I'm not wearing shoes, I look like I've been starved for weeks and I walk like I got hit by a car."

"Well let those people think as they please, you know your truth." My truth wouldn't stop them from calling the cops behind our asses though. But I was starving, and I honestly was looking forward to a bit of action and an adventure.

With my arm hooked in that of the angel, we walked into the diner, the smell of delicious food filling my lungs. We joined the boys who were sitting in the left-back corner of the place, right next to a window. Castiel helped me take a seat next to Dean before he went to sit across from me next to Sam.

My eyes were glued to the sun on the other side of the glass, that was setting. I impatiently licked over the small wound on my lip that by now was swollen, as I waited for the stars in the sky to appear. The warm shades of orange took my attention off of everything else, conversations went blurry in the background as flashes of Thomas and me filled my head. The barn, the portal. The colors made me feel sick.

"Lilly--" Dean gave me a push that shook me awake from my thoughts. I cluelessly looked up at him, right in his worried green eyes. "What?" I asked softly. He nodded in a direction that I followed. A waiter stood next to me, his eyes scanning me up and down in a judgemental manner as he was clicking his pen impatiently. He was about my age, a tall skinny boy with dark blond hair, his gray eyes hidden behind glasses.

"Drinks?" He asked slowly, as if he had to explain it to a five-year-old. The rest of the table had already ordered, but when I was taking too long for his liking, he treated me like a toddler. I cleared my throat before speaking.

"Oh, yeah, a coffee, please."

"How would you like it?" He asked.

"Just like how I like myself, dark, bitter, and too hot for you." I smiled sarcastically, that'll teach him talking to me like that. My words made him shrink to the size of a pea. After that, he left our table without another word spoken.

My eyes turned to the boys sitting next to me, surprised looks on their faces. "What?" I asked rather annoyed. "Nothing, he deserved that." Dean said, giving me a soft pad on the shoulder. Trying to cool down a bit more, I put my focus on the menu he had laid before me on the table. I already had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to order, but decided to give it a look anyway. They had all sorts of burgers, basket dinners, sandwiches and a sea of sides to choose from. At the end I settled for a cheeseburger with some fries, and a strawberry milkshake.

"So," I spoke as I laid the menu back down. "what now?" I asked with a smile, wondering what we would discuss over the burgers and fries. "I'm awake, I can talk, so Castiel won't be able to censor my answers to his liking any longer." My eyes shifted from Sam to the angel, amused at the fact that he felt attacked by my words. I was sure the boys had questions, millions of them, and I was ready to take them on. "Why don't we turn the tables? I'm sure you're more confused than we are. We've dealt with weird situations in the past, but this must be something new for you." Sam spoke softly as his hazel eyes looked at me, curious about what I would throw at them. "I'd love to ask questions but I don't think we're in the right environment to discuss such things? Unless everyone here is aware that monsters are real?" Dean looked at me with his angry eyes, I was speaking too loud for his liking.

"No, most people are unaware of the supernatural," Castiel informed me. "and we should keep it that way to prevent chaos from happening."

"What do you think of it so far? Your experiences on earth two-point-o?" Dean asked who sat with his arms crossed, leaning on the table as he looked at me. "What can I say? I'm not sure what my favorite moment was so far, me being dead for three weeks or seeing my best friend being torn apart in front of my eyes." I answered rather butthurt. The best thing that had happened to me thus far was the fact that I could walk again. Dean bit his teeth at my reply, turning his gaze away from me. They probably wished Cas was still there to censor me, but he wasn't, it was the real me they were getting to know now.

"Anyways, what type of cult are you part of anyways?" I asked, looking at the young man behind the counter that was ready to bring us the drinks we ordered earlier. "It's not really a cult, it's more like an order?  It's called the Men of Letters. Our grandfather was part of it, which means we are kinda part of it? The bunker had been abandoned for years, so we made it our home. It was that or old crappy motels."

"The Men of Letters?" I asked, but got interrupted by the server. He put our drinks down, spilling my coffee on the table. My eyes met his, giving him an annoyed look as I sighed.

"Are you ready to order?" He asked, taking out his little notebook again, clicking his pen vigorously. "Yeah, four cheeseburgers, please." I spoke, but Sam quickly changed that order. "Make that three, and a chicken salad, please."

"Make that two, and a chicken salad." Castiel corrected. My eyes looked confused between the two of them. Sam ordered a freaking salad, and Cas wasn't even going to eat?

"Okay, two cheeseburgers, and a chicken salad. Anything else?" The boy exhaled his sentence as his hand lazily wrote down the order. I made eye-contact with Dean, looking for confirmation without words that he was down for fries or not. He nodded and I turned back to the server. "Two fries, and a strawberry milkshake." I added, he wrote down what I said. "Any allergies?" He asked just to make sure he wouldn't serve us anything that would literally kill us. "Yes, actually," I spoke, meeting the boy's eyes, looking at me as he waited for my reply. "small portions." I spoke with a grin, making the server even more annoyed. He rolled his eyes before he left the table. I was probably gonna receive a burger where he had spit in, but it was worth it. I turned back to the table, still chuckling at my own joke.

"Small portions?" Dean asked with a smile, and I nodded. "To be honest, I probably should've told him that I'm lactose intolerant, but oh well."

"You literally ordered a milkshake?" Sam asked confused. "Yeah, and?" I asked with a cheeky smirk. "Also, what the Hell?" I spoke as my eyes met Castiel's. "You didn't order anything? Way to ruin the mood." He tilted his head to the left, narrowing his eyes a little. "I don't need food, I'm an angel." He replied. Why were angels so weird? "I don't need more than a thousand calories in one meal either, but I'm gonna eat it anyway?"  My focus went to my coffee after that, trying to clean up the mess the server had caused. He had spilled so much that my cup was almost half empty, I even had to steal Dean's napkin to wipe it all up. It didn't take long before I had drunk all of the caffeinated goodness.

"So Cas," I said as I put my empty cup down, looking into his rather distracted blue eyes. "As an angel of the Lord, what are you capable of doing?" I wanted to get to know the creature sitting across from me a bit better. I imagined an angel to be rather powerful, maybe even one of the most mighty beings out there. "I can fly, although you perceive it as teleporting. I can heal other beings, but can also destroy them with relative ease. We refer to it as smiting. We can read minds, enter dreams, we can not be killed by being shot or stabbed, only by an angel blade or powerful magic. There is a very long list of things we are capable of doing." They were basically indestructible. They didn't need food, didn't need sleep, they didn't even have to shower. His words sparked curiosity inside me, admiring him for a bit too long after he was done talking. "If you can fly, that means you have wings?" I asked, looking over his shoulder just to see nothing but the back of the other person sitting in the booth behind ours. "Yes I do, but you are incapable of seeing them. Our true form can be overwhelming." He explained. "Overwhelming?"

"It will burn your eyes out of their sockets." I went quiet after he spoke those words. That sounded anything but pleasant. Although the thought of him having wings made me want to know more.

"He also has a very pretty harp." Dean added as my eyes jumped to him after having heard his comment. "No, I don't have a harp." Castiel spoke in a deep monotone voice, he was annoyed at the Winchesters humor, but it did make me laugh.

We discussed the angel's abilities and weaknesses for a bit longer, until our food arrived. As I had expected, mine looked like total shite. However, I didn't mind, I deserved that. The server plonked my plate in front of my nose, followed by my milkshake, once again spilling it on the table. I looked him dead in the eyes, lowkey getting sick of his behavior. I clicked my tongue before I spoke. "Imma need some more napkins." A sarcastic smile on my face that he gladly returned. "We're out." My eyes drifted off to the counter behind him, looking right at a box of white napkins.  "Go fu--"

"Lilly." Castiel interrupted me, cutting my words off while giving me a disapproving look. I bit my tongue, looking out the window at the stars to not let the insults flow out like water. The server left the table, leaving us alone to eat as I went to inspect my burger, opening it up just to make sure there wasn't anything too disgusting hidden in between the layers. Afterward, I looked at my milkshake, letting a deep sigh go at the sight of all the pink on the table.

"I will go get some napkins." Castiel said as he stood up, walking to the counter. The brothers next to me were already digging in their food. Dean filling his mouth faster than he could swallow down. "You know your food won't like, fly away, or anything, right?" I asked with a laugh, also rather feeling sick at the sight of him chugging it down like a newborn penguin.

The angel returned, wiping the mess away for me. I thanked him as I also started to eat. I honestly was scared to dig in. What if I didn't remember how to chew and swallow? It wouldn't surprise me if my cause of death after all of this, was choking on a single fry. I stared at the food a bit longer before picking up a fry, going to dip it in my milkshake when Dean grabbed me by my wrist. "No way." He said with his mouth filled with cheeseburger. "Don't tell me you're one of those fry dippers?"

"Yes I am, and I'm also one of those pineapple on pizza people, bite me." I replied, tugging my arm lose to continue dipping my fry before sticking it in my mouth, exaggerated chewing on it in Dean's direction. He gagged, turning away, causing me to burst out in laughter. "C'mon, don't be so dramatic. It's good!" Sam who put down his fork reached to grab a fry from Dean's plate, almost starting a war. He smacked the hand of his younger brother away, his green eyes angry and threatening. "Jeez, sorry..." Sam said with a chuckle, before reaching into my plate, which was also a rather bold move. I watched as he grabbed a fry, dipping it in my milkshake to try it out for himself. He swallowed it down, pursing his lips making an expression that said 'not bad'.

"Ha! See?" I asked, giving Dean a slap on the shoulder. "That's the opinion of someone that enjoys eating salad, it doesn't count." He replied in defense, and just like that he had declared war. I was going to prove that fries and milkshakes go amazing together. I grabbed another fry, dipping it, then sticking it out the angel, offering it to him. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what I asked of him.

"Try it." I said while sticking it out even further. He accepted the fry but was still confused. "I don't need food?" He repeated himself. "I know, but try to see if it tastes good or not?" I asked.

"Lilly you don't get it I--"

"Please, Cas?" I begged, using my puppy eyes. He briefly looked at Dean who was smiling at the angel in an amused fashion. With hesitation, he stuck the fry in his mouth, biting on it slowly. His face made all sorts of movements and expressions that caused me to chuckle, but I tried my best to hold it back. Finally, he swallowed, quickly scanning the table with his eyes as he tried to place what he had just tasted. "And?" I asked impatiently. "Lilly, I tried to tell you..." He spoke while reaching out for a napkin. "I just taste molecules." He explained. I had forced him into tasting something unpleasant, and I felt bad, but the sight of him vigorously rubbing his tongue clean with the napkin caused me to laugh out loud anyway.

The rest of the evening was filled with silent moments while we were eating, the angel under us looking at us as a proud father. Apart from that, it was filled with me staring out the window, talking with the boys as we got to know each other a bit better. Laughing, making jokes, but also talking about more serious topics.

What I had learned from that dinner experience was that Dean and I are a lot alike, which was dangerous. I was certain of it that we would get into fiery arguments and fights along the way. He was the overly protective, I know I'm crossing the line but I do it with good intentions type of guy. A hard shell with a soft and squishy heart on the inside.

Sam was the protective type, but understanding. He tried to see everything from other's perspectives. He wore his heart on his sleeve, but carried allot of dark crap behind that pure and happy smile. I felt like we would get along better.

Castiel was still very confusing to me. He came across as also being very protective, but the unknowing kind of angel. He didn't fully understand humanity, emotions, behaviors. I felt like I could tell him anything, and he would try to help, but wouldn't know-how. He was very different from how I was, which was good. I could already see him keeping me from getting in trouble. He would be the one to be brutally honest with me if I wanted to know the truth that wasn't sugar-coated.

I had drunk the last of my milkshake, after having emptied my plate. Leaning back when I was satisfied with my meal. The boys didn't think I would be able to finish it, and that's where they made a mistake. Never challenge me. I let go of a quiet burp in my hand, as I looked at the sweatpants that were no longer way too big. I had eaten too much, but damn it tasted so good.

"I tip my hat to you, my lady." Dean said with a smile after he had wiped his mouth clean. He also had finished his plate, which wasn't a surprise. He threw some cash on the table, making sure to give the server almost nothing for a tip. I felt bad, I mean he was mean to me, but I threw some more wood on the fire by reacting the way that I did. Castiel stood up, stopping next to me to support me again, I hooked my arm in his and also stood on my feet. The meal I had eaten had restored some of my energy and walking went way smoother already. With the brothers behind us, we were walking to the door to leave the diner. The angel opened the door, the cold night wind hitting my skin. My eyes focused on the stars that stood high in the sky, making my stomach turn at the idea that we were going back to the bunker, back underground.

Goosebumps covered every inch of my body as my feet walked on the cold muddy ground. I hopped in the car after Castiel had opened the door for me, getting comfy on the soft leather of the backseat. It didn't take long before we were back on the road, all of us sitting in the exact same spot as before. My eyes were glued to the outside world, softly singing along with the music that was coming out of the radio.

"And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again..."

It was The Chain by Fleetwood Mac, one of my favorite songs. Dean turned the volume louder, apparently, he liked it as well, which I didn't complain about, but Sam did. Dean took a sharp right, bringing the full moon into my sight. I could see the big white circle reflecting in my own eyes in the window of the car, it caused me to feel weird. As if the light was sucking me towards it, I couldn't shake the feeling that flowed through me. Something big and powerful was looking down onto me and it made me feel nauseous. It followed the car, it followed me, didn't matter what way Dean turned the moon was standing right in front of me, intimidating and strong.

I swallowed, trying to keep the food down that I had eaten earlier, trying to let Castiel know I wasn't okay, but couldn't. The fear that had hit me on the back of the head left me powerless behind. When my field of vision was filled with nothing else but the bright white light, I snapped.

"Stop the car..." I spoke with a shaky voice, covering my mouth with my hand. "What?" Dean asked confused. "Stop the car!" I screamed, causing the Winchester to yank at the wheel, pressing on the brake as hard as he could. The car hadn't come to a complete stop yet when the door flew open as I stumbled out, falling onto my knees as I tried as fast as I could to crawl into the nearby forest. The fear had caused me to become so nauseous that my food was already back in my mouth. I threw up, about thirty feet away from the car. Sitting on hands and knees as the taste of gastric acid filled my mouth.

"Lilly?" Dean yelled at me worriedly. "I'm okay!" I replied in between some heavy breathes. "I think I ate too much."

"You gonna be okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah, just, go back to the car, I rather not have you listen to me throwing up." He did as I asked, leaving me by myself. Once all the food had come out, and I was able to breathe normally again, I wiped my mouth at a napkin I had taken with from the diner. My head was spinning, and the pressure my body was under hadn't faded. The moon stood high above me, looking down at me. The light that hit my skin felt like it took the air out of my lungs, its grip tightly wrapped around my neck. With shaky legs, I was able to slowly stand up, looking at the forest that laid in front of me.

"Lilly-Mae Mooney." An unfamiliar female voice sounded. My eyes scanned the trees, trying to find where my name came from. Out of the darkness appeared five people, all wearing gray business suits, no expressions on their faces. I knew I was in trouble when sharp blades fell from out their sleeves.

"We finally found you."

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗: 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜 -

Before I knew it, I was pinned against a tree, gasping for air as blood dripped out of my nose, my feet inches off the ground. I couldn't move, couldn't defend myself, or even call for help.

"Let her go, brothers." Castiel's threatening voice filled my ears as my eyes shifted towards him, he had appeared a few feet in front of me, also revealing one of those blades that dropped from his sleeve. He spoke of his brothers, did that mean that they were angels? Why would they want to harm me?

"Orders from above, Castiel." The woman spoke in an intimidating tone, that had me pinned as she held her hand out in my direction. "What do you want with her?" He asked as he came closer, putting himself between the angels and myself, physically protecting me with his body. Sam and Dean had arrived, pointing their guns at the creatures, which wouldn't help. I had remembered what Cas had taught me earlier, angels are immune to bullets.

Still unable to breathe, I felt everything starting to spin as my vision went blurry and ringing filled my ears. I was about to pass out when the brothers decided to get involved.

"Put her down!" Dean growled, as he came to a stop next to Castiel. The angel's gaze shifted to the oldest brother, letting him know that his anger would only make things worse.

"We can talk about this, come to an agreement." Cas tried to help, calm them down, but it didn't work. They were determined to fulfill what they were told.

"We are just following orders, Castiel. Unlike you."  She spat those last words out as if they were poisonous. I didn't know there was so much bad blood between them.

"Why does she need to die?" He asked, causing the grip around my neck to loosen a bit. "She is bending the rules. She was supposed to die. She doesn't belong in this universe." She spoke, the conversation got her attention off of me, giving me room to speak and breathe.

"It's not my fault, I asked for death that day, but instead I'm still awake." I should've stayed quiet. My air supply got cut off again, even more violent than before. "Shut your mouth, abomination."

"Whoa, easy with the name-calling there, sister." Dean spoke, waving his gun around in a threatening fashion. "Is there no other way we can handle this, so I won't have to destroy you?" Castiel asked, his voice menacing as it was filled with confidence and power.

Unexpected pain shot through my body, causing me to shriek, my voice echoing in the woods for miles on end. They had declared war by their actions, and without hesitation Castiel threw the blade in his hand through the air, landing in the woman's heart. A bright light shone out of her eye sockets and mouth before her body collapsed to the ground. Her voodoo no longer worked now that she was dead, and I also made contact with the moist forest ground not much after. Castiel had killed one of his own without having to think twice, just to make sure I was safe.

It didn't take long before everyone started to fight, the brothers shooting two of the others as a distraction as Castiel pulled the blade out of the woman's body, to use it again one another angel. I wanted to help, kick some ass like they were doing, but barely managed to stand on my own two feet. The men I was now sharing my life with were murder weapons, and I had seen them fight once before, but this was different. They were so damn powerful, but so damn terrifying at the same time. They were home in the skill of combat and murder. Once more they were risking their lives to protect that of mine, and I still didn't understand why.

Everyone was involved in their own small fight, everyone except me and one other angel. A tall man that came at me at full speed, the sharp blade pointed right at my heart. Leaning against the tree I was pinned against earlier, I managed to stand up, looking the creature in the eyes as I prepared myself to get stabbed. He got closer, and just before the blade would impale my body, I mindlessly started moving. My right hand gripped him at his wrist, twisting it on himself, pointing the blade at his body instead. My movement was so quick that he didn't see it coming, causing him to walk straight into the knife.

Staring at his face that was just inches away from mine, I watched as his eyes burned away with bright white light, blinding me. Petrified I watched at how the life in him disappeared. Two empty eye sockets were all that I could see as my hand was still clenched around his wrist. I let a long and shaky breath go before I yanked my hand back. His lifeless body collapsed on itself, hitting the ground right in front of my feet.

I had just killed someone, and I could feel the little amount of food that was still left in my stomach coming up. My eyes were glued on the corpse that was slowly gliding downhill, touching my feet again. I walked back as far as I could, almost crawling up that tree, just to get away from it.

I didn't mind that I had killed a dick of an angel, but Castiel's words that he had spoken so many hours ago were floating around in my head. Angels possess vessels, vessels are humans that permitted the angel to possess them. I had killed an innocent man, a faithful, innocent man. My mind fell, rolling down a steep hill as I thought about everything that man could've been. A father, a brother, a son.

"Son of a bitch." Dean's voice caught me off guard, my eyes flew up at him. He had gotten hurt, but all the angels were dead. All of them except for Castiel that was busy healing the oldest brother who had hurt his ribs in the process.

"Lilly?" Sam spoke who worriedly approached me, helping me to get out from between the corpse and the tree. "Everything okay?" He asked as he placed both his hands on my shoulders, scanning my face for a response. I slowly nodded, empty-headedly staring in his hazel eyes.

"You killed him?" He asked afterward, cutting off my oxygen flow. "I'm sorry..." I whispered, shifting my eyes towards the ground as I was being gulped up in guilt. "What are you apologizing for? I should apologize that I wasn't able to help you out. But hey, you did it? You saved your own bacon." He said with a smile, as if killing someone was a good thing, as if he had to reward me for my deed. "I killed someone?" The soft words I spoke drowned in confusion. "You killed an asshole?" Sam asked, but I could tell that he started to understand me at the end of his sentence. He blinked a few times while taking a deep breath. My gaze drifted off again to the dead body of the man that laid a bit further. My eyes drowning in salty water at the thought of his innocence.

"He might've already been dead, Lilly. You don't know that." He explained, and I suppose he was right, but it didn't make the feeling that was going through me go away. "We have killed so many. Monsters, vessels. You get used to it." My eyes shot up to his again.

"I don't want to get used to this?" I asked, disgust to be found in my voice. He bit his teeth when he realized how bad his explanation sounded. "How do you kill something without becoming a monster yourself, Sam?" I asked, seeking a logical reply.

"There is a little monster in all of us." Castiel spoke who stood next to me. I didn't see that he had approached us, and before I knew it he placed his hand on my forehead. A warm feeling flowed through me as I closed my eyes to embrace it. The pain faded, the swollenness in my lip disappeared as the wound closed itself up. His grace that was coursing its way through me was rebuilding every broken molecule in my body, causing me to feel strong as I felt the tips of my fingers tingle. Just when I had welcomed that feeling with open arms, it left as Cas pulled his hand back.

"Lilly-Mae." He said as I slowly opened my eyes again, to meet his rather gray looking ones. His eyes looked damaged, not as lively as usual. I turned towards him, wondering why he had said my name. "You're no longer safe. Heaven wants you. They want you dead." I swallowed slowly, trying to place the fact that something Holy could want such sinful things.

"I will protect you from them, just like I protect the brothers." My eyes scanned his face, studying his features, ready for whatever he was going to say next. "I will carve Enochian sigils in your ribs, to keep you hidden from Heaven's grasp." I barely understood what he meant by that, but trusted him, so I nodded. He bit his teeth as his eyes briefly looked me up and down. "This will hurt." He warned me, before placing his hand on my chest. The feeling wasn't so bad at first, until he dug his fingers tightly in the fabric of my tank top. I closed my eyes at the feeling of millions of needles flowing through my veins. Biting my teeth as hard as humanly possible to hold back my screaming.

Looking down at my own body, I could see a warm red light shining from within my flesh as burning flowed through my bone marrow. I gasped for air as he let go, falling forward when my body decided that it had been through more than enough in one day. I collided with Cas who prevented me from falling to the ground.

"Jezus Christ..." I exhaled while trying to recover from the pain I was in seconds ago, my hands digging in his arms as I tried to balance myself. "My apologies, but it had to happen." Castiel spoke, who helped me get upright again. "So now what? Heaven can't touch me anymore?"

"They can, but angels are no longer able to locate you." My eyes met his. "All angels? Including you?" I asked, and he nodded. "We'll fix you a phone, no worries. This angel is tech-savvy." Dean spoke who gave Castiel a pad on the shoulder.

Not much later we were back in the car, on our way home. Hoping that this time around we would make it there in one go, without another angel stop along the way. What just happned had me confused. Heaven wanted me dead because I didn't belong here. Which was understandable in some way. Different realities were bleeding over into each other. I had a desteny on my own earth, a plan that was carefully mapped out, and I was bending those rules, but not intentional. Did they know I wasn't fully human, like Castiel had felt before?

He and the brothers had protected me from the angels, Castiel killing his own. My eyes drifted off to the five angel blades covered in blood, that were laying between us on the backseat. Dean decided to take them with, just in case. There hung an uneasy tense atmosphere in the car that was killing me, but also the others.

"Why are they after her?" Dean broke under the pressure. "You heard what they said, Dean. They want her dead because she isn't from this universe."

"So if Heaven is after her, what does that say about Hell?" Sam asked, making my stomach turn at the thought of demons chasing me. "I doubt Hell will get involved with this." Relief filled my body for a brief second, till the angel continued talking. "Unless they too discover she isn't human, and not from this reality."

"I'm not some type of collectible?" I snapped when I had enough of it. They all wanted me because I was something unknown to them. Something they could poke with a stick and see how I would react. Castiel looked at me while his hands rested on his lap as he studied my anger. "So they know I'm not human? And what, God sent his top tier group of sadistic angels to smite my ass? Or to choke me to death, apparently." I grumbled, crossing my arms as I stared at the leather seat in front of me. "Who knew angels were such dicks." I sighed, trying not to make eye contact with the one sitting next to me as I insulted his species.

"God hasn't been around to give orders in a very long time, if I had to guess; Micheal must have given that order." An archangel had its interests put on me, and I didn't even want to know what would happen once he received the news that we had crushed his little following.

"So now what? You guys are gonna train me, right? To become on of you?"

"A hunter?" Sam asked, looking at me over his shoulder as I nodded. "I don't think you wanna be one of ours, kiddo." Dean spoke, but I already settled for how I wanted this to go.  "She needs to be able to defend herself if she would find herself in a situation that we are not there to help." Castiel defended my opinion, which I was grateful for. "But first, we need to find out what you are." We made eye contact, wondering how he wanted to do that.

The angel had a plan that he would share with us once we were back in the bunker, our words hidden from the outside between the thick and warded walls.  

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎: 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 -

- 𝒞𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓁'𝓈 𝓅❁𝒾𝓃𝓉 ❁𝒻 𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓌 -

Heaven was now involved in trying to figure out what Lilly-Mae was, turning this into a high-risk job. We were exposed, and it wouldn't take long before Hell would want to associate itself with her.

Having arrived in the bunker, I put my focus on executing my plan. "We will have to open a rift to your original dimension." I spoke, leaning against one of the many bookshelves in the library. Lilly's eyes met mine, she looked worried, scared. I figured that going back to her home-world was the best option. "We can try to get you back home." I continued, but only received negative reactions, especially from Lilly herself. She bit on the inside of her cheek, drowning in thoughts as she looked for a way to respond to my offer. The idea of her home frightened her.

"I don't have anything to go back to, Castiel." She finally spoke, her eyes glued on the wood of the table she was sitting at. I had hoped she would have agreed. If we would return her, there was no reason for Heaven to be upset at her. It would make her life easier, but she had her mind set on the thing she had grown attached to, and it brought her life in uncertainty. She was yet to discover the dangers we would bring her way.

I decided it was best to stop about her going to her home-world, and spoke about how we would open the rift instead. "How did you do it, open the rift?" I asked, meeting her eyes again.

"We didn't open them, they just appeared in the barn of Thomas's dad. I thought it was because the wall between worlds there was the thinnest." She explained, and there was some truth to her story, but she was unaware of how those 'portals' truly functioned.

"Rifts don't open by themselves, my best guess is that your presence sparked them in existence." Another sign of her being a supernatural being. "There's no way, why would they always appear in the barn and not in my house if it was me doing it?"

The mind is more powerful than most think. The rifts were a way for her to connect with Thomas, a reason for them to see each other. "Your emotions towards Thomas must have had an influence on the location." I explained, causing her to fidget with the strings of Dean's sweatpants as her cheeks got a light pink color. I tilted my head slightly as I tried to figure out what I had said that caused her behavior.

"So you're saying that Lilly needs to open that portal?" Dean asked who sat beside her. I shook my head. "It will take longer for her to get that skill under control than for us to just do research and gather the right ingredients."

Inter-dimensional travel was an extraordinary unique skill, the only other beings I knew were capable of doing so were the Archangels, and God himself. She was one of the mysterious ones. Beautifully damaged, ruthlessly scarred, we were yet to discover what she was, but I already knew it was something all-powerful.

"So, a spell to open a rift to another dimension? How will we know it's the right one? I mean, there are millions of alternative dimensions out there, right? How will we connect with the right one?" Sam was asking the real questions, as per usual, but lucky for us was the solution sitting right in front of us.

"Through Lilly's memories."

"That sounds like it's gonna hurt." She said, looking at me for a reply that would entail the opposite of her speculations. "I will have to intrude your memory, which is already quite challenging on its own, but now because of the warding it will be a rather unpleasant experience." A long explanation for saying; yes, it would hurt.

Dean eyed his watch. "When we starting? It's just past ten, think we can do a bit of research before we go to bed?" Everyone agreed, even Lilly-Mae who was rather lost in this world. The brothers and I had experience. We knew what books to consult for specific information we needed. Not wanting to exclude her, Sam picked out a couple of books that could have potential, for her to read through.

Hours passed, books were excluded, empty beer bottles were collected and Lilly her head hung lower and lower until she had fallen asleep, lying with her face on one of the books as her cheek was getting squished. Sam who had just taken a painkiller for the headache he was experiencing, chuckled at the sight of the unconscious girl. "We should bring her to bed." He spoke before yawning, he was also in need of rest. Dean also looked at her, a soft expression on his face.

I think it was safe to say that we all had grown fond of her, even though we didn't really know each other yet. Today was the first day everyone met Lilly-Mae. The real Lilly. She had changed over the last weeks, which was only normal.

My eyes were lazily reading over the words in front of me, skipping most of it, looking for keywords that could lead to more information when Sam stood up to stretch. "I'm gonna call it a night." He said before walking around the table, heading to wake Lilly up to help her get to her room. He crouched so he would be at her eye level, carefully waking her from her sleep. "Lilly."She grumbled in protest, frowning her eyebrows at the sound of Sam's voice.

When people sleep, they are in their purest form. Expressions change, softening, and relaxing under the deep trance. When one sleeps the body heals, the mind stores new memories while destroying others.

"I'll bring you to bed, you want me to carry you?" Sam whispered, patiently waiting for a reply that she wouldn't give because she had fallen asleep again. He called her name again when his patience ran out.

"No." She mumbled, slightly adjusting the way she was laying on the book with her face pressed against the pages. "You wanna sleep the rest of the night sitting in a crappy chair, while laying on a book?" Sam asked, an amused tone in his voice to be heard. "Yeah..." She answered, almost exhaling the word in annoyance. Eventually, the youngest brother stopped trying and was ready to go to bed himself, when I took the task of bringing her to her bedroom on myself. I slid the chair from underneath me as I stood up, walking towards her.

"She said she's okay with sleeping here." Sam informed me as I carefully pulled her chair back to pick her up. "She's passed out, she doesn't know what she's saying." I replied, carrying her unconscious body in my arms. Lilly was so tired and in such a deep sleep that she didn't even wake at me picking her up.

I walked down the halls with her laying in my arms, like the night we had found her in that warehouse. Brief images of how much blood was running out of her wound flashed in front of my eyes. The trail it had left behind took weeks before it fully came off of the tiles, leaving them stained red for days on end. It was one of the many memories I had that I would rather forget, but will never be able to unsee. I kicked her bedroom door open with my foot, before carefully laying her on her bed, covering her with sheets afterward.

Biting on my teeth I took a step back, looking at how peaceful she looked when asleep. Although seeing her like that gave me a double feeling. I much rather had her walking around, biting her tongue trying not to curse. I caught myself staring, and wondered why I felt so obligated to take care of her. Why we all felt that urge to make sure she was safe, happy, and all right. She was a complete stranger that had fallen into our laps during another classic hunt. But yet, this was different.

I had lost my belief in fate years ago after God had turned his back to Heaven and earth, but something inside of me said that meeting her was faith. It had to happen, as if it was carefully planned out. If I didn't join the brothers, they would never have discovered that she was still alive, and it had been months since I had joined them to take care of a case. The chances of me tagging along were so minimal, the chances of her being stuck there forever were so big, but yet it happened.

I had to discover why we were so drawn to her, and with that thought going through my mind, I left her room, not fully closing her door because of force of habit. When she wasn't awake yet, we always left her door open for just a couple of inches, to make it easier for us to hear if something would happen while being in another part of the bunker.

I returned to an empty library, Dean had gone to sleep, leaving me alone to do research. I didn't mind it, however, I could find peace in moments where I was alone. I had put my mind on some old artifacts from in the Black Grimoire,  very dark and powerful witchcraft. Skipping over most of the pages I came to a chapter that caught my attention. There was talk about inter-dimensional travel, and when my eyes read over the word 'rift' my heart dropped.

A long and complicated spell was listed, ancient language mixed with a list of rare ingredients. I had found a spell that claimed it would perform exactly what we needed. With the book in my hand, I flew to the pantry, checking how much of the ingredients we already had laying around. For once in our lives, we were lucky and had everything right here in the bunker, everything but one key ingredient; Angel grace. Deciding I would drain my own later on, I made sure I had everything prepared so it would be ready to go once the others would wake in the morning.

Carrying a bowl that was filled with herbs, crystals, the blood of various animals, and the book I decided it would be best to perform the spell in the dungeon. There, the rift would be surrounded by thick warded walls, in the hope that Heaven wouldn't notice the portal opening all too much.

Once I arrived, I crushed all the ingredients together, carefully measuring out the amounts and keeping an eye on the order that I poured them into the bowl. Bathing a painite gemstone in the dust mixture I had created, cautiously covering every bit of the surface with it, to gently brush off the excess afterward. After having placed the gem on the floor, right in front of the big devil's trap that was painted on the floor of the room, I was almost done. The only steps left was collecting my grace, and waiting for the others to wake to perform the spell after having seen Lilly-Mae's memories of her home universe.

Unscrewing the cap of a glass test tube, I prepared myself to extract my grace which was a delicate procedure. Putting the cap down, holding the tube I revealed my angel blade from within my sleeve. Placing the glass against my throat, I slowly brought the sharp metal of the blade closer to my neck, it touched my skin right above where I held the tube, so it would be easily collected. I put pressure, ready to cut my flesh open when I got startled.

"Cas, what the hell?" Lilly's voice filled the room unexpectedly, almost making me drop the things I was holding.  "What are you doing?" She questioned as she walked straight at me, her voice sounded angry but her face showed concern. "Lilly, you are awake?" I asked, turning in her direction to meet her. She yanked the blade from my grasp after having come to a complete stop right in front of my feet. I had to look down to meet her gaze due to the height difference.

"Isn't killing yourself a sin?" She snapped, hiding the angel blade from me behind her back, defending it, as if she was able to keep it from me, even if I would try to get it back.

"I wasn't going to kill myself?" I asked, shortly after realizing that the scene she had walked into did suggest otherwise. "The spell calls for angel grace." I explained, pointing to the book on the table next to us. "Oh..." She whispered, slowly revealing the angel blade again, to lay it down beside the collection of paper. "You found a spell to open a portal?" I nodded, turning to show her the list of ingredients and ancient words. "I have everything ready to go, except for the grace and your memories."

She read over the words as I took a moment to look at her. She was standing up on her own, and the way she walked towards me in full fury showed she wasn't struggling with it any longer. The few hours of sleep she had gotten and the meal from earlier had given her body more strength. It made me happy, seeing her slowly become the old Lilly again, the one from before all of this happened.

"Let's do it." She said, laying the book back down, suggesting to perform the spell under just the two of us. She didn't want to wait for the brothers, and I didn't think that was such a good plan. "We don't need them for anything, Cas. You've your grace, I've my memories. We can help each other out."

"Are you suggesting you want to slice open my throat to extract my grace?" I asked, slightly tilting my head to the left. Her eyes widened as she took a step back. "That was what you were doing?" I nodded. "Well, sure, I suppose." She briefly licked her lips before picking up the angel blade she had put down earlier. "You'll have to explain to me how this works though, before I accidentally kill your angel ass." I wondered how long it would take her before she started cursing, turned out not that long. She was scared, yet wanted to help.

"Well, it's just a matter of slicing the skin of my throat open."

"Ah, yes, I'm an expert in slicing that specific part of the body open." She replied with a smile, but I knew she was being sarcastic. If something did go wrong, I could always heal myself. I wouldn't lose consciousness unless too much of my grace was extracted.

I took a step forward, handing her the test tube. "You'll collect my grace in here, and make sure to close the cap tightly, so it won't escape." She nodded, focusing back and forth between the blade and the container, before looking at me. We were already standing relatively close together, but she took another step, almost standing with her bare feet on the tips of my shoes. Biting on my teeth I looked down at her, meeting her milk-chocolate colored eyes. "Ready?" I asked, "Yeah..." She exhaled, before standing on the tips of her toes to be able to reach my neck easier. Her hands were shaking, but there was no need to be scared.

I could feel her warm breath brushing over my skin as she leaned in closer, before placing the sharp end of the blade to my throat. Lilly was biting on the inside of her cheeks again, gnawing, trying to build op the courage to cut into me.

"It's okay, I'm still a celestial being, I'll survive." I gave her a small comforting smile, making her eyes briefly meet those of mine again, her pupils dilated. "I'm sorry." She whispered, before cutting into me. She drew a small horizontal line, and gasping for air I could feel part of me leave my vessel. I rapidly blinked a few times before shutting my eyes fully, biting on my teeth at the dreadful feeling. Life, power, was being drained from inside of me, making me weaker.

I could hear her closing the cap, and that was my clue to heal myself. Placing the palm of my hand over the cut, I mend all the molecules of my vessel, alongside the complicated matter that was me, back together. She had drained more than needed, leaving me dazed and weaker than expected. My legs tried to give away, but leaning with my hand against the table gave me support.

"Cas?" Lilly sounded, her voice vulnerable and concerned. I opened my eyes, lazily looking into hers. She scanned my face rapidly as she put the blade down, and the test tube that contained my grace, looking like a cloudly white light. Her eyebrows frowned as she grabbed me by the arms. "Are you okay? What did I do wrong?" She asked worriedly, not leaving my gaze for a second.

Little did she know that it wasn't her fault, but mine. After what happened in the forest the other night, I was cut off from heaven. My main power source was taken away from me, making every drop of grace count. I wasn't going to share this information, however, it was too early and if the brothers knew heaven wanted me dead again, they would be concerned too.

"It's okay Lilly. I just have to regenerate the grace that got drained, give me a couple of minutes and I should be fine." I explained, I could see her expression relax for a smidge, but not fully. She was happy I would be fine after a while, but that didn't change the fact that I felt horrible right now in this moment. "I'll get you a chair." She spoke before turning her back on me to get a chair from in the corner of the room. "No, it's okay, really. We will have to hurry if we want to perform the rest of the spell before the brothers wake up." It was as if my words had entered her one ear, and immediately spilled out the other.

On her face a moody expression, squinting her eyes slightly as she placed a chair down in front of me. She didn't even have to say it, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. I took a deep breath, gave a small nod in appreciation, and took a seat. Lilly decided to take a seat on the table, rocking her feet back and forth as she admired the grace in the glass tube.

"So, this is what gives you powers?" She asked, and I nodded. "What would happen if someone would drain all of it?"

"I would die, or worse." She tilted her head at my reply. "I would become human." Lilly chuckled, thinking what I just said was a joke. "And so, every time you use your powers, you burn up a bit of this?" She asked, tilting the tube back and forth, making the grace inside of it slide back and forth with it. "Yes."

"And afterward, you have to regenerate, to get back to full power?" I nodded. "So you're basically like a rechargeable battery?" I let a breath heavy laugh go after she had compared me to that. "I suppose you could look at it that way." I spoke, meeting her eyes for a brief second because she was too focused on the bright white light to keep them fixed on me.

"Is there a limit to how powerful you are? Or does your grace just build up if you don't use it?" She was fascinated by what I was, and made me question things I never really thought about before. "I think that every angel has his limit of grace that he or she produces by themselves, but referring to your battery theory from before; there is a way to overcharge a battery." She grew curious at my words, seeking more information she leaned in closer. Her eyes no longer looking at the light, but right into mine. "By consuming souls, one can become stronger than originally intended. But nothing good comes from that, just like an overcharged battery, it breaks."

She took a moment of silence to place that information, the more I explained the more questions she had. Every response sparked curiosity and I decided I was rested enough for the next part, entering her memories. I stood up, offering the chair to Lilly, knowing the pain I would cause her would be too much for her to handle.

"Are you ready?" I asked, carefully studying her facial expressions so I would know the whole truth, not just what she wanted me to believe. Her eyes were glued on the piece of furniture as she slowly swallowed. "This is really going to hurt, isn't it?" She asked softly, her gaze slowly meeting mine. "I'm afraid so." I didn't want to hurt her, but it had to happen if we wanted to find out what she was. Lilly exhaled as she took a seat on the chair, brushing her hair over her shoulders so it hung over her back."Well then, let's get on with it."

"Do you want me to explain how this will work?" I asked Lilly as I took my trench coat off, together with my suit jacket, rolling up the sleeves of my shirt so all the access fabric wouldn't get in the way. She nodded gently as she nibbled on her lower lip, her legs impatiently trembling while she didn't know what to do with her hands. She was extremely nervous, and I tried to calm her down with my words. Stepping closer, I started to speak.

"I will place my hands on your head, entering your mind, searching for the right memories that give me the right amount of information about your home-world. I will look for key differences so I can tell universes apart. I will try my best to not enter personal memories because like I have told you before; I respect your privacy. Every memory I will enter will be pulled back, making you experience them along with me."

I had just warned her that the following minutes would be filled with images of the past. Some of them may be good, others bad. Nonetheless, it would be a physically challenging procedure to go through, but it wouldn't be any easier mentally. She didn't speak another word after that, just waiting for me to get started.

I stood in front of her, now the tips of my shoes almost in contact with her feet as I build up the courage and strength to enter this pure soul. I was going to harm her, make her feel awful, but biting on my teeth I recovered the last piece of Angel Soldier that was left inside of me. I had a job to do, and while wearing a cloak made out of empathy-less angel over my shoulders, I placed both my hands on her head.

Lilly-Mae looked me straight into the eyes, a small smile on her face as she noticed my hesitation and struggle. "It's okay, I'm still a supernatural being, I'll survive." She had twisted my own words I had spoken earlier. My fingers inter-twined themselves with her strands of dark brown hair as I tried to get in direct contact with the skin of her scalp. Placing my fingertips on the right pressure points. Lilly took a deep shaky breath as I closed my eyes, ready to enter her mind.

"My apologies."

My eyes lit up with a bright blue light as my grace started to break down her soul, entering the disorganized mess of cloudy memories.  Every image I would pull from her mind would play in front of her eyes, so I had to be careful. I had to keep my curiosity on a leash, wanting to get to know her past, wasn't allowed. Careful to not pull up the bad ones, the ones that could ruin her. A bad memory is poison our mind pours out for us, a poison we get addicted to, unable to stop pouring over and over, wondering why we feel so sick all the time.

Finally, I decided on a memory I would enter, the back of my head filled with screaming that I tried to ignore the best I could. A field, a barn, on the right in the far distance a small white house, on the left a big farm. I stood in the middle of a grain field, the sky above my head had a pink color as the sun was setting. Right in front of me stood a big red barn, voices filled my ears and as I looked up, at the roof of the barn, I found Lilly and Thomas sitting on it next to each other. That wasn't what I was here for, the white house in the distance caught my attention. I assumed it was where Lilly-Mae lived.

I left that memory, seeking another that would involve the white building. It didn't take long before I found one, entering it, biting my teeth at shrieking that bounced around in the back of my head. I still stood outside, the barn in the distance, unable to see the farm, but standing right in front of Lilly's house. Loud laughter filled my ears as I looked to the left, Lilly was laying in the grass, wearing nothing but a simple yellow bikini, next to her laid Thomas wearing black shorts. It was a hot summer day and they were tanning, although Lilly was turning red instead of brown.

Shifting my focus back to the house, I caught the address, I knew where I was. Monteview, Idaho. A very small, simple farmers town, surrounded by endless fields. That was it, it only took two memories for me to figure it all out, but the leash broke, and my eyes shifted back to Lilly and Thomas.

I watched how he made fun of her for getting a sunburn on the first warm summer day. He poked her skin, making her gasp for air at the pain, followed by her glass of water that she poured out over his head. They were laughing, both happy and free.

I stared as I tried to imagine what type of person Thomas used to be. He cared for her, he loved her. Lilly sat across from him as a mirror, reflecting the same exact feelings, yet they never got around to discuss it. If I didn't know better, I'd say that a cupid was behind this, but this universe, there were no angels, no Heaven or Hell. Thomas stood up after being drenched with water, grabbing one of the ice cubes that had fallen onto him, to hold it against Lilly's neck. She screamed at the icy touch, knocking his arm away to stand up, running past me towards the garden hose that hung on the wall.

"Don't you dare, you little monster!" Thomas yelled, pointing at Lilly who had a big smile on her face, her white teeth shining. "Too late! Besides, you're in urgent need of a shower, smelly!" She turned the hose on, soaking Thomas who tried his best to hide from the ice-cold water. Her sweet laughter filled my ears, admiring her I allowed myself to enjoy seeing her happy.

My name that got cried out caught my attention, realizing what I was doing my heart dropped. I let go of her head, my own mind being pulled through a black tunnel before returning to reality. My eyes met those of Lilly that was sitting in front of me. Her cheeks wet as she looked at me, her eyes red and swollen from crying as she was gasping for air. I broke down, realizing what I had done. "I am so sorry..." I whispered before kneeling in front of her to be at her eye level, my hands resting on her shoulders as I tried my best to comfort her.

Lilly bit on her lip, blinking another tear away. "That hurt like a bitch." She spoke under her heavy breaths. "Please tell me you know enough?" She asked, her voice shakey, already scared at the thought that she might have to go through this again. I heavily nodded, I knew exactly where we had to go, but was worried at the fact that I had pulled her through a train of memories of her and Thomas. Closing her eyes, she wanted to speak; "I..."

"Stop, I know. You don't have to say it." I felt horrible, and I wiped away another tear that tried to make its way down her cheek. For a while, all we had was eye contact because that spoke more than words could ever do. In that very moment, I had promised myself I would never hurt her again, I would never lay another finger on her with bad intentions, and she knew. She could tell by the silent conversation we had. I was never good with words or understanding humanity, but she made it easier.

It was about to turn seven AM, meaning that it wouldn't be long before Sam would wake up. The salty water on her cheeks had dried up, but the whites of her eyes that were still red gave away that she had cried. When Lilly's heartbeat had calmed down and her breathing went back to normal, I stood up, rolling down my sleeves to put both my jackets back on. Her mind was hazy and I decided it was best to leave her in silence for a bit longer, while I prepared the last parts of the spell. In the meantime preparing myself to travel to her home dimension.

--

- 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗: 𝙻𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚢 -

- 𝒞𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓁'𝓈 𝓅❁𝒾𝓃𝓉 ❁𝒻 𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓌 -

"Koth Munto Nuntox"

The ancient words rolled over Lilly-Mae's tongue who stood behind me, holding the Black Grimoire in her hands. She had spoken the spell to open the rift, and as soon as the last sound escaped her mouth, the gem laying on the ground in front of us started to glow. There was a deep rumbling sound to be heard from within the stone as it collected its powers.

The Winchesters were still fast asleep, giving us the opportunity to finish the spell without their interference. I looked over my shoulder to the startled girl who was staring at the bright orange light that shone out of the gem, before a bright flash filled the room. The crystal had exploded, causing a small yelp to escape Lilly. Pieces of it bounced against the walls like glass shards as the blinding light took the ability to see from me. The bright light died down; revealing the brutal rip in reality it had created, lighting the room with a warm orange tone. The rift was long, like a crack in a stone wall, the core bright white, framed by an orange glow. It moved slowly like an organism, waving back and forth, showing signs of life.

I had seen a rift once before, but standing right in front of the tear in space and time that was made out of pure compressed power caused me to be nervous. We were unsure of how long it would last, and the last thing I wanted was to get trapped on the other side. Deciding it was best to just move as quickly as possible, I walked towards the rift. Right before I was about to make contact with it, Lilly grabbed me by the sleeve. She spun me around, making me look straight in her eyes.

"Do you want me to go with?" She suggested, concerned about my safety because she knew the place, and I didn't. I would be lost in the world she had grown up in, but I had to do the right thing. I shook my head, taking her back to her home-world would mentally kill her, and both of us knew that all too well.

"Are you sure? What if something goes wrong, Cas? I don't know how to get you back... I don't have grace to open up another portal. Maybe it's best if I just go?" I grabbed her by the shoulders, cutting off the words that kept on flowing out as a lost waterfall. "Lilly, it's okay, I'll be back before the brothers wake up." A short small smile appeared on my lips, trying to convince her, hoping to calm her nerves. "All you have got to do is promise me you'll be here when I return, okay?" She took a deep breath, sorting out her thoughts before nodding.

Letting my hands slide off her shoulders, I looked at the rift once more, collecting bravery within me. I stood right in front of the tear and could feel the burning heat coming off of it as I tried to figure out my thoughts.

It's just another earth, just like this one. There was nothing to be afraid of. With that in mind, my foot slowly dragged itself forward. Ready to enter the rift, Lilly spoke once more: "Castiel," she whispered my name as she distanced herself from me, "watch your step, it's a long way down." I looked back at her, causing my shoulder to come in contact with the crack. I saw her face, her concerned eyes that were glistening with orange before everything went white.

I was making the fall to the other universe, taking in my surroundings as I tried not to panic. A strong stinging pain flowed through my vessel, making it hard to breathe. The idea that Lilly used to do this with Thomas for fun was beyond me. Their curiosity got the better of them, risking so much for the satisfaction of getting to know other worlds, other outcomes, and realities.

Heat stung my flesh like millions of small needles, and before I knew it the orange color pallet that surrounded me went dark, and the rift in the other world spat me out like something poisonous. Rolling, scraping over a hard concrete floor covered in hay, I came to a stop. Just like in Lilly's memories had the rift appeared in the barn, like she was used to. Dusting off my coat, I stood up, briefly looking around me to make sure I had ended up in the right universe.

The absence of a Heaven weighed heavy on my shoulders as confirmation that this was the correct reality. It was night, and looking at the small amount of moonlight that shone through the cracks of the barn, I put my focus on Lilly-Mae's house. With the blink of an eye and a brief thought about the place, I stood in front of it. Looking at the white walls, as my gaze drifted off to the grass on the left side of the entrance. The memory I had seen earlier that took place in this exact spot played in the back of my head, only now there was no Thomas or Lilly to be seen. It was dark, the grass a somber brown color instead of bright green. In the air hung a chilled atmosphere, none of Lilly's laughter filling my ears, instead; the soft noises of crickets.

Looking back at the door that was blocked by police tape I took a moment to place the fact that she and Thomas were reported missing. Pictures of both their faces were glued on the outside of her house like wallpaper, underneath them laying in the grass bouquets of small white flowers surrounded by green leaves. I crouched down to pick up one of the bundles of flowers, pressing my nose against it to smell them. The soft and sweet floral scent filled my lungs, making me whisper their name; "Lily of the Valley."

The time I had got to know the girl named after the flower, she had informed me that she was very lonely, standing practically alone in this word to face it, but people did care about her. Tea lights circled her house, together with hundreds of flowers, all to support her and Thomas. Two young people who had gone missing from this earth, literally picked off of it like a flower, brutally ripped from life. One of them was safe and sound, the other had come to an awful end, but that would stay a mystery for the people in this universe, a case that would never be solved.

Clearing my mind, I teleported inside to be greeted by old and dusty furniture. By the looks of it, the place was practically untouched since she left. A house stuck in time, put on pause until its owner would return.

Her house was small, but filled to the brim with stuff. Books, plants, pieces of art, and gems were scattered around in a messy fashion, but you could tell she had thought the placement through. I stood in the middle of the living room that existed out of an old dark brown leather sofa with a small simple television, a big bookshelf, and multiple rugs. Directly connected to that the dining room, next to the dinner table stairs that led to the second floor.

The many plants that stood in her house were dead, the sad dried up leaves hanging on for dear life, another sign that this house was no longer a home to someone. Filling my lungs was mostly dust, but next to that a cozy cinnamon smell that blended perfectly with old dark wood. Her house perfectly reflected who Lilly was as a person. I wondered how long it would take before she would start filling her room in the bunker with similar decorations. A hint of a smile appeared on my face, imagining the scene of Dean freaking out over the scented candles that would slowly leak its scent into the rest of the bunker.

Shifting my focus back on the thing I should be focusing on, to begin with, I looked at the many books that laid on the bookshelves. My priority was finding out what Lilly-Mae was, and it didn't take long before I had gone through every single book, checking all the pages. She had a lot of fictional books scattered around, from an innocent series of books called Harry Potter, to a rather weird collection about the different shades of grey. Which I decided to not even look at, knowing it wouldn't deliver me the information I was seeking after.

Deciding to move on I went upstairs because I had a feeling deep down that the book mess would continue on the second floor of the house. The dark wooden stairs creaked under the weight of my feet as I made my way up, taking in as much of the surroundings as I could. Her kitchen was filled with drying herbs, on the windowsills glass jars with water. On the wall that led upstairs hung instead of classic family pictures, multiple animal skulls. Lilly's house had a spiritual touch. A bit, witchy, was the best way to describe it.

The closer I got to the second floor, the more prominent the cinnamon smell became. Old faded red wallpaper complemented the dark wooden floor in the hallway perfectly, together with the as dark wooden doors. The upper floor was as big as the bottom, giving her enough space for two bedrooms and a bathroom, although one of the two bedrooms had become an art room. I briefly laid my eyes on the many paintings that were scattered around the room before walking past the bathroom that strongly smelled of mint.  At the end of the hallway was where her bedroom was located. The door of the room stood wide open giving me a direct vision of her messy bed that stood against the window.

On entering the room a weird feeling flowed through my vessel. Seeing the crazy amount of blankets laying on her bed that was swung open showed exactly in how much of a hurry she was the night she left to meet Thomas. I counted three different blankets, and that was quite a lot considering it was mid-summer. A half-empty cup of tea stood on her nightstand that was collecting a thick layer of mold. The weird feeling was the confrontation that went through me that Lilly was indeed lonely. She might have a lot of support from strangers, that pity her going missing, but there was not a single soul who took care of her house while she was gone.

Not a family member, not a good friend, no one. I slightly tilted my head in confusion at the urge to clean the place. I considered it for a moment, but when my eyes met a suitcase that was tucked under her bed, I changed my mind. It was clear that this wasn't Lilly-Mae's home any longer, but all of this was still hers. Instead of trying to get Lilly back to her homeworld, I decided to bring her belongings to her in the new universe she was trying to fit into. Pulling the suitcase from under the bed, I stopped myself.

Info. I was here for information on what Lilly is. Biting my teeth I forced myself to shift my focus, and blinked myself to the nearest library.

-To be continued- 

[painandpleasure86]

Gimme your comfort, I suffer of love (deazello week 2020)

A/N: Hi ppl! Another fic for this ship week hosted by @roger-taylors-car !! Now taking the prompt "cuddles" and "secret affair"

The name of this fic it's based in a gay love song from the argentinian rock band Los abuelos de la nada. The original phrase is "Dame tu consuelo, yo sufro de amor".

Summary: the day after the tea time, Joe haves an audition and he will tell how it was to John.

Word count: +2500 (my longest fic for now)

Warning: the things are spicy, so... Don't interact if youre a minor. Don't throw hate if you don't like this kind of writing pls.

Permanent taglist: @warriorteam1924 @toomuchlove-willkillyou (sorry if you're uncomfortable with this kind of writing).

If you liked it, please reblog! That will help me to reach to more ppl :3

----------------

When they finally ended the tea time and the men greeted, the older whispered in the ears of the younger "you can come home when you want…  I barely left home lately".

Joe just can nod but both knew the real response.

They already started a new chapter in their life...

----------------

Monday morning. He was preparing for a casting that he will have after that day. He passed in front of the door of his neighbor to see if he was there. He wasn't. "Well I'll try when I come back of the audition" he thought.

Joseph watched to his son walked sad in front of the porch of John's house.

"Joe, come here! John isn't your friend, it's just your neighbor and he don't like to be bothered!"

The young man was approaching to his dad's car.

"Let me be act like I want. I'll turn 22 this year! And John really liked me."

"He just was polite and kind with you." replied his father.

Joe knew that he didn't just was kind and polite with him. But that isn't something that he can say to his dad.

-------

The audition was a failure. Was a big opportunity to make detach his career, but they rejected him for being "too old" for the role. But that was a excuse, because a famous young star also auditioned for that role. And had his same age. "If you reject me, at least be fucking sincere and told that was because that guy was also in the audition" he thought dissapointed. He was so sad and almost crying in his dad's car.

"Joe, relax. You know that you will still have your  job in the dance studio if your acting career haven't success." said Joseph, trying to cheer up his son.

"I know. But I want to act. I'll pull myself together, because I know that I should do better…"

Joseph smiled.

"That's Queen." noted the man.

"Yeah, you can see why I love that band, dad?"

And a smile appeared in his face.

"I see." added, watching to the road.

----------------

 When they came to his house, he was to the door of his neighbor.

"Dad, come home. I'll try to speak a little with the neighbor."

"Okay Joey. You're an adult anyways." he sighed resigned and entered to the house.

Joe took the doorbell.

"Yeah?" someone asked for the intercom.

"John it's in home now? It's his new neighbor, Joey".

"YEAH! I'll call him".

That voice was Laura. She was happy for listen that American accent again.

He watched to the old man came to the main door.

"Joe!"

"Mister!"

"Call me John please" 

"Okay John".

And both hugged.

Both started to walk to the house.

"How are you Joe?" asked the bassist.

Trying to lie, Joe replied "fine".

"No boy, you aren't fine. You don't fool me".

"I could do it, I'm an actor...well, a bad try" said Joe watching to the sky and sighing.

"Oh now I understand your low. An audition was wrong no?"

"Exactly" and Joes eyes started to be full of tears.

Both stopped to walk. He started to cry in the shoulder of the old man. This one puts his left hand over the head of the young, caressing his hair. With his another arm, he hugged him. Joe hugged to the man in response.

"You will have success Joe, don't give up". And give to the young man a little kiss in the head. He couldn't contain his reaction.

Ronnie and Laura appeared when both men were hugging.

"Oh it's Joe again. What's up?"

"Oh hi Joe!" exclaimed Laura excited.

The men left the embrace and watched to the woman and the girl.

"He failed a big audition I think" replied John.

"Oh he needs a cup of tea and some muffins" told Ronnie.

Still sobbing, Joe responded "I'm lactose intolerant, but thank you sweet lady… and hi Laura" trying to smile.

Ronnie and Laura blushed again for the kindness of the young man.

"Come in then" replied Ronnie and both men entered to the house.

"Ugh girls why you're inopportune" thought John.

----------------

The men were in the living. Ronnie asked to Laura to help her with the tea, despite the girl would prefer stare in front of Joe, contemplating his beauty.

"Was a big audition no?"

"Yeah… but that motherfucker quitted me the role. For God's sake, you already have a lot of work and success, why you need something like that?"

"Like I said, you will have success, perhaps this wasn't your time, huh?" the elder smiled kindly and puts a gentle hand over the left lap of the younger for a moment. This one started to feel nervous but great at the same time. His reply was a shy smile and a "thank you John".

When both men were talking about some things, the girls came with the tea. Laura, by her insistence, was the one to give the tea to Joe. "He-here's the tea, Joe" said the girl, without watch to the redhead. Her cheeks were fire.

"Thank you Laura" and give to the girl a little kiss in her right cheek.

The girl was so excited for that little kiss. "Oh will be with you in some years my beautiful american boy" she thought smiling, meanwhile was going to sit.

When Ronnie came, Joe said "Thank you Ronnie for the idea of the tea… sorry for that scene in your porch."

"You will have your opportunity Joe, you should add more artistic skills, to have more opportunities. You told us that you also know how to dance… what about learn an instrument?" And she watched at John, that was drinking his tea and opened widely his greenish eyes.

Gulped his tea and, leaving his cup in the tea table, he said "I could teach to him something" and watched to the redhead smiling. "What you think, Joe?"

"I love that idea", responded the young man.

After a lovely chat with the women, the men were going to the basement, where the music things were.

Laura said to her mother when they were alone "that guy really likes me"

Ronnie replied, smiling "my dear, he's only kind with you. He knows that you're a child to him. Surely he should be interested in someone near of his a-"

"MUUUUUUUUM LUKE WOKE OF HIS NAP AND FELL FROM HIS CRIB" irrumped Joshua in the living room.

The woman was upstairs running… she can hear her little son crying.

Laura, meanwhile, was daydreaming in the couch...

------

The men were in the basement. A place with old things, but also all his basses, amplifiers, another instruments and the album certifications. "This place it's the only one that contains my 20 years playing… well I still do it. We are ending a final album, but very slowly. After that, no more music industry for me. At least, playing a bass." he said to the young man. After a little tour, they sat in a couch that were there. Joe cuddled to John and started to cry again. The old man hugged with his right arm and with his left hand caressed the hair of the young man.

"Finally alone" he said and give another kiss in the head of the another.

"Thank you for comforting. Really. I didn't thought that you were that kind, lovely and… beautiful man. I could be here forever. Hugging you, feeling your heartbeats, smelling your parfum… I found paradise in your arm" confessed Joe, blushing his cheeks a little. He hugged to the elder tighter.

"I'm feeling honoured that I can make feel of that way to someone like you… God, I just knew you last Saturday, but… y'know… you makes me feel things that I didn't thought that I'd feel again" Leaving partially the embrace to smell Joe's parfum, he murmured "your smell it's also nice" and his self control was taken… he started to kiss that soft neck. And the young left go a little moan.

For a while, both forgot their problems. They started to loose in lust waters.

To Joe was the first time with a man. He left his will to the another one.

"Gosh, my dreams are becoming true…" said Joe meanwhile the elder was kissing his neck and caressing slowly with his left hand since the neck until the thighs. Right hand, to press that guy's head over his. "Make me yours, please". 

The another, approximating to the boy's ear, whispered "of course, my sweet boy" and pressed the young's bulge. A deep sigh.

The elder then sat in the lap of the young, opening his legs, being face to face. He continued kissing the neck, meanwhile the another pressed the head of the another with his left hand. Right hand was caressing the another's back, reaching until the pants and trying to quit the shirt that was under the pants. When he could do it, he started to caress the warm bare skin under the clothes. He was eager for feel that but with his whole body.

The man also sighed deeply.

Joe closed his eyes and started to supplicate

"Please kiss m-" and was interrupted for his lover, who was now grabbing his face with both hands and kissing deeply. Both tongues where in contact, the young sucked a bit the tongue of the elder.

The clothes started to be an annoyance.

Both quitted the sweater of the another. The old man started to unbutton the shirt of the guy. When he unbuttoned 3 buttons, his left hand started to caress the chest of the redhead. The young could feel the calluses because of being a musician.

The man whispered "it's so soft… like I imagined" and tried to kiss to the another again. But this one said "lemme feel your chest too" watching right to the eyes. "Okay" and made a smirk. Half of the buttons were unbuttoned and  when his eyes watched the result, he couldn't resist to bite his lower lip. His breath accelerated a bit more. He sighed. With his right hand could feel that hairy chest, that one that just could imagine touch in his wet dreams. And the left hand was placed in the back side of the elder man's head, passing his hand through the gray hair and kissing deeply, with passion. The another had his left hand over right cheek of the guy and the right hand was ending to unbuttoning that shirt.

Accelerated breathes. When they less can notice, both were shirtless. Both could feel the bare skin of the another, feeling the warm, feeling the breath of the another being faster. Now the redhead can caress without problems the back of his lover, that thing that just lived in his fantasies. 

"Sir…"

The another listened with attention. He loved being named of that way in that moment.

"We shouldn't quit our pants… we yet have our shoes".

"Let me do it for you" and he was then sat in the floor, quitting the shoes. 

Surprising to Joe, the man started to unzip the pants. Being in his knees, grabbed the genitals through the underwear.

"This is so tight… and hard." John watched to his lover.

"DO IT. DO IT! SUCK IT PLEASE"

"Shhhh Joey, don't shout. We aren't alone." And he quitted his hand of the genitals and he started to quit the shoes and his pants. And didn't leave to the guy cooperate.

"This is your punishment".

The young stood up of the couch and murmured to the right ear of John "gotcha". And he pushed to the another to the next free wall.

"I can play that game too, sir" whispered.

And he started to kiss him and grab the bulge with his right hand. The boxers were white, that didn't left nothing to the imagination.

Watching to john's eyes, Joe said "now I can confirm the myth". Both smiled.

Moments later, he asked "Quit my pants Sir and do what you wanted to do to me before in the couch. I can't handle it anymore"

He was pushed to the wall and now the another was in his knees, quitting not only the pants, but also the boxers.

The young watched the scene, trying to not cum before his dick were sucked.

Being naked now, he saw how his dick was sucked slowly and his balls being squeezed for one of that hands.

"Do it quickly please or fuck me… you're as hard as me. This isn't funny"

The another didn't replied. His mouth was occupied.

Five minutes later he left to suck that dick and, stood up and said "wait there" and he came back with a little bottle of lube.

"How you hav-"

"Was a bottle that I never could use with my wife. So, ended here."

"Turn around please, give me that little young ass"

"But your b-"

"I'll quit myself… now. Okei. Both naked. Now, relax."

He inserted the index finger from his right hand. The young moaned hard. "Don't misfire! Don't misfire!" Joe thought trying to control himself.

"Shhhhhhh we're doing this in secret"

"Okay sir"

"Do you want another finger?"

"Please".

And he inserted the middle finger too. That hole was so tight.

"Well Joey, I quitted your anal virginity" he whispered in the left ear of the redhead and started to move faster his fingers

"Liar?" Joe asked.

"Yeah"

"That's my fave bassline of yours… your face, your body language, your fingers always made me cum…"

"I could make you cum with my fingers… but I want to fuck you now…" John quitted the fingers of the hole and asked to his lover "now go to the couch and put like a dog"

John covered his dick with lube and was to Joe.

He grabbed that hips with his hands and start to fuck to the boy. Both moaned, but not too high. The man started to move faster and faster, grabbing stronger Joe's hips … He didn't wanted to say it to Joe, but he was more eager for cum than Joe.

"I already cum"

"Me too"

And both cummed. 

Trying to recover their breath, they cuddled.

"Was great John, better than in my dreams. But next time, in a bed please"

"Ronnie it's always around here...well… Sunday morning, not. She was to the Church with the kids. Next Sunday will be in my bed and you can moan as high as you want."

"Ooooh great. But now we should put our clothes and do whatever we supposed to do here".

"Yeah, but not now. I want to rest a littl-"

Ronnie knocked the door.

"John, Joe, are you okay?" she screamed.

"Yeah sweetie, we were already done for today".

"Okay boys!" And she was going to the kitchen.

Watching to Joe, John said "that's why I said that you couldn't moan high…" and added "tomorrow, same hour. But the next time, I'll start to teach you bass. She had a really good idea…"

"So good that also can let us to have our own time alone" finished Joe, winking an eye.

An affair started that afternoon. Something that both wanted. Something that both needed.

**************

If you liked it, please reblog! That will help me to reach to more ppl :3

Lily.

[elizasvintagemoviesblog]

Dirk Bogarde: Denial and daring...a star with a secret never told

https://static.independent.co.uk/s3fs-public/thumbnails/image/2011/07/16/16/624945.bin?w968

David Benedict on an actor, soon to be celebrated at the BFI, who let his choice of roles do the talking

Sunday 17 July 2011 

Hot Hollywood agent Diane is in crisis: her cute movie star client Mitchell is on the rise, on magazine covers and, to her horror, on the brink of coming out. It's time for straight-talking. "Are you British? Do you have a knighthood? If not, shut up!"

The laugh that gets in Douglas Carter Beane's 2006 play The Little Dog Laughed reveals its truth. Take Sir Ian McKellen and Rupert Everett out of the picture and now try naming another out gay male movie star. You can't? That's because there aren't any. None. With secrecy and the fear of discovery still engulfing gay actors in 2011, is it any wonder that the career – and life – of the entirely closeted Dirk Bogarde was a conundrum and a contradiction?

A seriously handsome, bona fide star who had made 35 films by the age of 40, Bogarde was both British and knighted and made more arrestingly bold choices than any actor of his generation, taking name-above-the-title roles in The Servant and Accident with Joseph Losey, Death in Venice and The Damned for Luchino Visconti, The Night Porter for Liliana Cavani, Providence for Alain Resnais and Despair for Rainer Werner Fassbinder. All that from a man who as early as 1958 was the biggest draw at the British box office – pulling bigger audiences than Marlon Brando, Marilyn Monroe, Frank Sinatra, Audrey Hepburn and Elvis Presley.

In addition, by the time of his death, in 1999, he had reinvented himself. He published six novels, plus collections of correspondence and criticism, and, crucially, seven best-selling volumes of memoirs throughout which he staunchly claimed to be straight. Actress Glynis Johns, a contemporary most famous as the suffragette mother in Mary Poppins, tartly observed, "I never believed more than one sentence of what Dirk wrote." She should know: she was once married to Tony Forwood who had divorced her and subsequently lived with Bogarde as his "manager" for almost 40 years.

Bogarde's position was, initially, understandable. Born in 1921, for his first 46 years homosexuality was against the law. Any man caught in "homosexual acts" faced imprisonment. That prohibition was ruthlessly policed. In 1955, 2,504 men were arrested for "homosexual offences", ie, about seven people every day. Even Ian McKellen, 18 years younger, didn't come out until 1988, when he was 49. Bogarde never did.

Although fully entitled to privacy, his blanket denials on television, radio and in print post-1967 legalisation became, for me, increasingly hard to stomach. Posthumously, the man behind the painstakingly maintained mask was uncovered in home movies and commentaries from family and friends in a BBC documentary The Private Dirk Bogarde (2001) and John Coldstream's biography. The great irony of Bogarde's position, however, is that no other screen actor has given such affecting and extraordinarily powerful gay performances.

Even now, the industry regards playing gay as being potentially career-damaging, an act so "brave" that your Oscar virtually comes with the contract – step forward William Hurt for Kiss of the Spiderwoman (1985), Tom Hanks for Philadelphia (1993), Philip Seymour Hoffman for Capote (2005), Sean Penn for Milk (2008). Probably the only reason Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal didn't win for Brokeback Mountain was that their dual presence cancelled one another out.

Regardless of the authenticity – or lack thereof – of those performances by straight actors, they pale beside the still astonishing impact of Bogarde's shockingly truthful performance back in 1961 as a barrister embroiled in a secret gay affair in Victim.

Bogarde plays married barrister Melville Farr who discovers that a blackmailed young man who loved him has hanged himself in police custody rather than reveal their relationship. Realising Farr's intention to uncover the plot, the blackmailers threaten to expose him. In the central scene – whose dialogue was rewritten to more explicit effect by Bogarde himself – Farr is confronted by his distressed wife (played by Sylvia Syms).

Shot in high-contrast black-and-white, edged with the darkness of a sitting-room at night but trapped in a fierce spotlight, Bogarde is mesmerising. Crisply suited, dry-voiced and on the edge of tears, he painfully stifles the emotion threatening to destroy him. With the camera locked in close-up, he lifts his chin ever so slightly in defiance, his eyes widening into a glare of triumph that costs him everything.

"You won't be content until I tell you, will you, until you've ripped it out of me. I stopped seeing him because I wanted him. Can you understand – because I WANTED him."

I can still remember being transfixed – and terrified – by that moment when I first saw it by accident on television one night. It was the 1970s, I was a guilt-ridden, fiercely closeted teenager and I had never, ever seen or heard a man on screen or off express such piercing desire for another man. I felt physically torn between an absolute need to keep watching and the cramping fear that my parents would come in and instantly understand why I was watching something so incriminating.

Bogarde always maintained that the camera photographed thought. Nowhere is that more true than in that scene. It wasn't just this teenager who recognised the staggering truth behind that performance and its implications for the actor.

In a television interview to promote the film, he was asked the not-so-veiled question: "You must feel very strongly about this subject to risk losing possibly a large part of your audience by appearing in such a bitterly controversial film?"

With manufactured insouciance, Bogarde counters, "I don't think so, no. This is a marvellous part and in a film I think is tremendously important because it doesn't pull any punches: it's quite honest. I don't have to use any old tricks for the fans, it's a straightforward character performance."

Necessarily disingenuous as that was, in hindsight it's also seriously unconvincing due to his immensely camp "who me?" manner, his left eyebrow arched, his fingers playing with his ear and chin.

Being able to pinpoint a scene that changed a career is rare, but that's what that Victim scene did. And having just engineered his release from his constraining 14-year-old contract with the Rank Organisation, Bogarde accelerated to an international reputation taking on increasingly complex roles with adventurous directors. Contrarily, the finest of those performances were in roles amplifying his hidden sexuality.

He was memorably viscous as the vicious Barrett, the manservant manipulating imperilled, upper-class James Fox into sex-and-power games in Losey's superbly elliptical (and Pinter-scripted) The Servant. And, in 1971, he crowned his career with Death in Venice, playing a man who falls fatally in love with the ideal of beauty exemplified by a beautiful boy. With almost no dialogue, the film amounts to a 125-minute reaction shot. As casting director Michelle Guish observed of Helen Mirren the day after the first Prime Suspect aired, no other British actor could have played that role that well because no one else had that depth of screen experience.

Was it arrogance that pushed the controlled Bogarde to the brink of self-exposure in this and other defining roles? He destroyed almost all of his personal papers, so we'll never know. Whatever conclusion we try to draw, the screen evidence survives.

'He Who Dared', a two-month Dirk Bogarde retrospective, begins at the BFI Southbank on 3 Aug

source: independent

[secretariatess]

So Christian media gets slammed (more than not deservedly so) for its poor quality and low budget productions.

Add to that the fact that just about play or movie produced that features Jesus has Him like this throughout the entire thing: 

(And when He smiles, you can totally feel the warmth, it’s so obvious why the children come to Him and love Him! Note the heavy sarcasm!)

So I was a little trepidatious when it came to going to the JESUS play put on by Sight and Sound.  Like, I was a little excited because the people I know who had been to a Sight and Sound play before said it was really good, but, still.  It was a Christian play.  About Jesus.  So like, how good was it actually going to be.

It.

Was.

Amazing.

The sets were incredibly designed and detailed and moved by themselves.  They used real animals for scenes with the animals.  They had a gigantic screen in the back to help set the scenery, and it would move with the characters/boats.  (And the scenery in the background were just gorgeous.)  The boats would move like actual boats on water, even when they were standing still.  Where I was sitting, you could feel the rush of wind from the storm when Peter walked on water, and smell the sea air.  When they were meeting together in the room, you could faintly smell the incense burning.  The stage came up to the right and left sides of the audience so they had more room.

And Jesus.  The way they portrayed Him really made you feel like THIS was the one you could follow.  Describing what they did with Him in the play to my mom, she said, “So, they made Him human.”  HE HAD A SENSE OF HUMOR!!!  After healing a leper and getting His hands all over this leper, He turned around and touched John on the face.  And then gave the rest of His disciples a hug.  He joked to Martha about not liking her cooking (He then stated He loved it, but the reaction was amazing).  When He first appeared on stage and called the fishermen to follow Him, He went up to Peter’s boat and sat down, insisting that Peter took Him fishing, unfazed by Peter’s fit of some stranger sitting in his boat.  And when He was with the children?  Oh my gosh!!!  It was amazing!! It was like He actually cared about the children and wanted to be around them.  He was asked to explain the heart of God with the children present, and He started off with, “You want to know the heart of God? Well, let me tell you a story.”  Then narrated the Prodigal Son, patiently answering the questions the children cut in with.  Just watching Him, you could really understand why large crowds followed Him around.  Yeah, there was the healing and the teaching, but He felt so real. 

(At this point I should probably make it clear that I don’t think the actor was Jesus- but I am saying that the actor and play portrayed Jesus much better than movies had.)

And honestly, I think that made His death so much worse.  You didn’t just feel the emotion of Him dying for you, but you had just spent two hours getting to know this really amazing person, and now He’s being killed even though He’s innocent.  It didn’t help when it then focused on Mary, and when she was mourning the loss of her son.  Even worse when she reflected in song with her younger self that He had been wrapped in a burial cloth when He was born while they were wrapping the body of Jesus.

And they would do a lot of things like that, where they pointed out parallels.  They did use artistic license to fit the Gospel into two hours of a play and make it real to the audience, but it was nothing that would have defied Scripture.  They used Nicodemus, and occasionally Joseph -not Jesus’s father but the one whose He was laid in- to point out the the prophecies that were coming true about the Messiah.  There were some things that wouldn’t have flown in the culture of that time, but made it very real for an American audience (like Lazarus owning a dog).  But in spots where the culture was important to understand, they would lay it out in dialogue.  There were also some other spots where they give more explanation than what the Bible has, but considering they were aware of the fact that there were people watching who weren’t familiar with the Bible, I think it was great that they did that.

I mean, I could go on and on and on about it.  The entire thing was absolutely amazing.  As a matter of fact, when I came to church today and regaled my fellow worship partner with the stories of the Sight and Sound, she got so excited about it that she wanted to see the play herself.  So now we’re going to make plans at some point to drive down there to watch it (oh heck yeah I’m all for going again).  And look, if you have a chance to see it, do so.  The Sight and Sound theater is located in Pennsylania (there’s another one in the Midwest, but I can’t remember the state).  But the JESUS play will only run for so much longer.  At some point they’ll start showing their Christmas play and then in 2020, Queen Esther will premiere.  And it would be a matter of waiting for the DVD, and I promise you, even without seeing their DVDs, it won’t be the same.

It was just fantastic.

[iriskaram]

→ general information

full name: iris rose karam espino

nickname(s): sirenita (by her mother)

age: twenty six (26)

date of birth: february 15th, 1993

nationality: australian with a mexican/lebanese ethnic background

occupation: former marine biologist turned cafe owner

religion: catholic, non-practicing

sexuality: demisexual

hometown: newtown, sydney, australia

current residence: a cute little townhouse in ocean park boulevard

financial status: middle class

educational level: college graduate, masters in marine biology @ University of Hawaii Manoa

→ relationships

father: joseph karam - ever since her fathers infidelity which led to her parents subsequent divorce when she was around seven years old, she has not spoken to her father.

mother: miriam karam - with a very gilmore girls type relationship, iris talks to her mother almost every single day and when she doesn’t? her mother calls her asap. 

siblings: two half sisters; younger karam & alondra karam

relationship status: single

when/who was your first kiss: ashton mitchell when she was in eighth grade courtesy of a very stressful game of spin the bottle.

are you a virgin: no

have you ever had a same sex experience: no

do you ever want to get married/have children: one thing iris has always wanted was to get married and have kids. both of which could have been possible had her relationship with her ex-boyfriend not gone completely south. now, she’s hesitant to even flirt with people let alone think of having a child.

what do you look for in a potential significant other: kindness, loyalty and a good sense of humor. though, iris is very touch starved so if anyone showed her only one of those when in a romantic situation she’d not know what to do.

→ personality

positive traits: intelligent, caring, carefree, adventurous, affectionate, romantic

negative traits: awkward, self-concious, stubborn, slightly clingy, impulsive, 

biggest fear: getting trapped in an elevator

what’s more important- sex or intimacy: intimacy above anything unless she’s truly comfortable with the person and has that connection then it’s intimacy followed by sex.

do you believe in true love: she does but she believes that she simply hasn’t found it yet nor will she ever find it.

have you ever been in love: very much so because she was so in love with her ex-boyfriend to the point that it blinded her despite his behavior.

are you a leader or follower: leader

do you care what others think of you: not particularly. her mother raised her to believe that the only person who’s opinion should matter is her own and that’s why she lives such a carefree life. because it’s what she chose to have a philosophy.

how do you deal with stress: normally, she’ll go out and buy some takeout before proceeding to pick her favorite bath bomb in order to take a relaxing bath. when she doesn’t want to do that, you’ll normally find her sat on the beach just watching the ocean waves and listening to the sounds that come with it.

are you spontaneous or do you always need a plan: a mixture of both because it mainly depends on the situation. most of the time, however, she tends to be the latter because she feels like she’ll get more out of a situation if it’s planned. but she’s only human. 

→ misc

If your character could change one physical detail about herself, what would it be? her eye color. she’s always wanted green or even hazel eyes to the point that she owns several pairs of contacts in those colors for days where she wants to be a bit more extra.

What is your character’s favorite physical activity? it’s a tie between surfing or swimming but in the grand scheme of things, she enjoys any and all aquatic activities more than anything outside of water.

What is your character’s least favorite physical activity? jogging, hands down. she never really did much before getting her dog but she’s been doing it more so her dog can get exercise but she always feels like death once it’s done and over with. 

Your character comes face-to-face with her worst enemy. What is her first reaction? she’d probs be a shaking mess if that happened but she’d likely call the cops because she has no plans of letting him get anywhere near her when that ship has very much sailed.

What is your character’s favorite weather? warm weather. she loves the fact that it’s warm enough to go out and do things but not hot enough where you feel like you’re suffocating from the heat itself. 

What is your character’s favorite season? spring time for the same reason as above. 

What is your character’s least favorite season? winter time. there’s something about the cold that does not adjust well with her after growing up somewhere that was almost always warm so now she can’t stand it even if she does find snow gorgeous.

Your character keeps a photo album of memories from her lifetime. If she could only keep one photo, what would it depict? it would definitely be a picture of iris with her mother when they first moved to hawaii. it was the first time that iris finally felt like she had a home and all the potential to make friends whereas she’d never felt that way while in australia given her parents work. 

Does your character keep any pets? she has one! a three month old blue merle australian shepherd puppy named aolani (meaning heavenly cloud in hawaiian) who’s a handful and a half but the sweetest dog iris has ever met.

What is your character’s fondest childhood memory? christmas when she was five years old and her father showed up in a full blown santa costumer with a giant bag of christmas presents for her while also sprinkling her with fake snow. everything she had asked for was in that bag including a kitten which she named toodles. 

Someone asks your character to describe her family. How do they answer? ‘like many families, there’s ups and downs but my mum is always going to be my first ever best friend and the one person that could never let me down. she’s strong and courageous while also being poised. without her? i don’t know what i would even do with myself.’

Is your character a morning person, a night owl, or something else entirely? definitely more of a morning person. she loves to wake up early to go open her cafe then spends the rest of the day making sure everything is done because night time is reserved for staying in and relaxing or prepping for the following day.

What is your character’s least favorite color? green. more specifically, citron green. 

A stranger makes a crude comment to your character. How do they react? she would either pretend that she didn’t hear anything and proceed to only act kind towards the person or she would turn around and instantly walk away because she isn’t going to allow that person to damper her mood. especially since she’ll likely never see them again.

What mythological figure best personifies your character? 110% a mermaid and she’ll forever feel robbed of the experience to be one since it’s what she feels she was destined to be.

[how-manygalileos]

Yes, Minister - A BoRhap Politics AU

//Chapt 1

A/N: Arright gang? We wrote chapter two, as you can see. There are also a few little bonus extra bits that I may post at some point so ye B)... also if you haven’t already, go drop @rachelweiszs-areawoman a follow as this fic is both of our brain child (and she’s probably writing more than me sooo) Enjoy!!x

Word Count: 1915

Chapter 2

ROMANCE IN WESTMINSTER: SHAWCROSS AND HARDY RELIGHT OLD FLAME?

There are rumours afloat in Westminster after new MP Kathleen Shawcross and Chief Whip Ben Hardy were seen dining together. Miss Shawcross and Mr Hardy were part of Bristol University’s Labour Society during their time there and it is known that Mr Hardy was somewhat of a loose cannon at the time.

Kick laughed as Ben held the newspaper in front of her face. They’d guessed something would be said about their university days but they hadn’t thought it would come so soon.

“Fuck me, Ben” Kick sighed, still laughing.

“I tried back at uni, Kick. Fancy it now?” Ben replied

“No thanks mate, maybe another time?” Kick said as she sat down.

“Queen of the let-down. Don’t be treating Gwilym like that,” He joked, as he sat down opposite her.

“Gw-Gwilym? Why would I be letting Gwilym down? He’s my boss, Ben. Nothing more”

“If you say so, Kathleen.”

“What? Were you expecting me to jump him at the first opportunity because he’s hot and single?”

“Aha! So you do think he’s hot!” The blonde exclaimed.

“I never said he wasn’t,” the brunette replied, sighing deeply for the fourth or fifth time since the conversation began.

“Do you like him though?” Ben teased, loving the fact that this conversation was complete torture for his friend.

“I don’t know him well enough to make a judgement, anyway I thought you came here to do actual work rather than prod me into admitting whether or not I fancy my boss.” Kick replied, getting more and more frustrated by the second.

“Which you do.” Ben quickly added.

“Who I don’t know if I fancy yet or not.”

“You do.”

“Fuck off, Hardy!”

Next door, Gwilym caught snippets of the conversation happening between his junior minister and the party’s Chief Whip. He thought about the young woman sat at a desk infinitely older than her and realised he may be in the same boat. He was intrigued by her. There was something about her that he connected with, and she seemed to ‘get’ him from day one. He wondered if, after some time, he would fall in love with her. There was a distinct possibility, at least.

----

Joe glanced out the window of the foreign office, she was there again. Having climbed the Robert Clive memorial, she sat with the same placard she had with her on his first visit to parliament.

“I see Miss Stewart’s out protesting you again,” he commented to Gwil, sat behind his desk.

“When is she not? Which statue is it today?” the Foreign Secretary asked, not looking up from the work he was doing.

“That one over there,” Joe said pointing, “not sure which one it is.”

“That’ll be Robert Clive, a personal favourite of hers.” Gwil replied, still not looking up. The Ambassador’s interest in Elsie Stewart confused him, she was disruptive and self-righteous but Joe seemed almost enamoured by her.

“Does she actually sit out there for the whole 24 hours and not eat?” Joe asked. Gwil looked up, not sure why they were still on the subject of Elsbeth Stewart.

“Yes, sometimes longer, depends how much she resents my existence at a given time.” He stands up and walks to the window to stand next to Joe. He had a curious glint in his eye, Gwil for the life of him couldn’t understand why. Elsie was just some journalist, a journalist with communist-anarchist views at that.

“Didn’t she write that book, Anarchy For the UK: A Critique of British Political Tradition?” Joe asked, knowing perfectly well the answer to that question. He had read it cover to cover between his second and third visits that had coincided with her demonstrating in the area.

“Yes, that would be her. An… interesting read to say the very least.” Gwil said walking back to his desk.

Joe really enjoyed Elsie’s book. Of course, he would never admit that to Gwilym. He felt that the contempt Gwil held for the anarchist would throw a spanner into the workings of both their friendship and workplace relationship, should he admit to really enjoying her book.

After finishing at the Foreign Office, Joe took a walk around the surrounding parts of Westminster. Ever since he was young, he’d had an interest in the City of London. He spotted the Robert Clive statue, Elsie still chained to it. He didn’t know why exactly, but he smiled slightly before darting into a shop nearby.   Elsie yawned before looking at her watch. 18:23, 12 hours and 37 minutes left to go. She looked over the the city streets, the hustle and bustle of rush hour starting to wind down slightly. Her stomach rumbled and she ignored it. Elsie drew her legs up to her chest as the London evening chill blew over her.

“Hey,” an American voice grabbed her attention.

“Can I help you?” she asked in response. Scottish. He wasn’t expecting her to be Scottish.

“Hi, -uhh- I’m Joe. I brought you these,” he presented a coffee and a scarf to her, “It’s getting pretty cold out here and I’ve seen you out here a whi-”

“I know who you are,” she cut him off “Staff Sergeant Joseph Francis Mazzello III, US ambassador to the UK, ex-Marine and key donor and campaigner for President Obama. You missed out on being a congressman for New York by a margin of 2%. You’re a womanising, socialite, philanthropist. You have a net worth of approximately 4.5 billion US dollars. I do my research.”

Joe was somewhat taken aback by how much she new about him.

“And I don’t need your charity, Mazzello. I’m here to make a point, not for people to pity me,” she continued, “and Starbucks? Really?”

“Uhh - you’re right, I’m sorry.” Joe sat down on the steps next to the memorial. He looked around the mostly empty street. Sure, she was making a point during the day, but when there was no one to read her slogans and listen to her yell, would it really make a difference what she did?

Joe wasn’t the type to actively protest social issues. As much as he hated to admit it, his reaction tended to be to just throw money at the problem. There was something about Elsie, she hadn’t just wilted at his natural charm the way most women did, the way Kick had when he first met her. He was used to getting his way, Elsie immediately dismissing him was somewhat refreshing. There was a silent gap between them. Joe sipped on the rejected coffee and looked up at the red haired anarchist who had already begun to ignore him.

“I read your book,” Joe blurted out of nowhere.

“Oh, you’re still here?” she said in response, not even looking at him. Joe elected to let her comment slide.

“I really liked it, you have some really good insight into the failings of capitalism and how the party system eventually leads to no-one getting what they want.” Elsie looked down to him for the first time.

“You think so Mazzello?” Elsie raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t expect a mild rejection of capitalism from some Wall Street arsehole”

“Well, I-”

“In fact, you’re not Wall Street. If I recall correctly, you were born into this. You’re not Wall Street, you’re straight up Easy Street.” Elsie was quite proud of that one. Joe chuckles slightly.

“I suppose… I best be going. See you around, Miss Stewart”

“Fuck off, Easy Street”

“I read your column too, by the way.” he called out as he walked away from the Robert Clive Memorial

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Easy Street. Pretending to be my biggest fan won’t get me off the back of the foreign sec.” she replied.

“Wait, you think this is about Gwilym Lee?”

“When someone who works with him approaches me, it normally is.” Elsie shrugged. Joe nodded to her before continuing to walk away, he was sure they’d cross paths again.

----

Kick smoothed her skirt as she walked into 10 Downing Street. She had been invited to a dinner for Foreign Office ministers, hosted by the Prime Minister Brian May and his wife Anita, a world-renowned human rights lawyer. Kick was relieved to find herself sat next to Anita, some female company in a large crowd of men. The group chatted away happily, avoiding the subject of politics for some well-needed rest. Kick and Anita found themselves making polite conversation.

“Why is your nickname Kick?” the older woman asked.

“I kicked Ben Hardy, the Chief Whip, in the balls at our university freshers after he tried to get off with a friend of mine who was in a relationship. He’s called me Kick ever since” the younger replied, making Anita burst out laughing.

“You went to university with Ben?”

“Yes, both attended Bristol. I’m the one that got away - only girl in the Labour society he didn’t sleep with” Kick replied, smiling over at Gwilym. He laughed along with everybody else, secretly relieved she and Ben didn’t have that kind of a past together. Ever since he’d heard Kick and Ben talking about him in her office, he’d become fonder and fonder of the young MP.

All the while, Anita watched Gwilym and Kick, and noted how they looked at each other when the other wasn’t looking. She saw the deep affection between them, and wondered whether anything was happening. She didn’t like to get involved, she was only the Prime Minister’s wife after all, but she wouldn’t have been disappointed to see the pair of them together for a very long time.

Kick stepped out of No. 10 and into the freezing cold rain of a London night. As she pulled her coat further around her, she heard footsteps catching up to her, and an umbrella over her head.

“How’re you getting home, Kick?” Gwilym asked as he huddled under the brolly with her.

“I was going to get the tube. Why?”

“I’m hailing a cab, my place is on the way to yours so why don’t you carry on after he’s dropped me off? You can claim the fare on parliamentary expenses” Gwilym said, smiling hopefully at her. She nodded and followed him through security and onto Whitehall. They jumped into a cab and laughed at their bedraggled state as they sped off into the London night.

While in the cab, Kick found herself feeling safe and comfortable in Gwil’s presence. The pair made polite conversation, but it was never boring. They reached Gwilym’s house in no time. He lived fairly central so he could pull long nights at the office and be home quickly but both of them wished the journey could have lasted just a little longer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kick” he said quietly, as the cab pulled up outside his front door.

“See you in the morning, Gwilym” she replied, smiling brightly as he shut the door and the cab sped away. As they made their way to Bethnal Green, and Kick’s flat, she thought about Gwilym. She wondered what he’d be thinking as he hung his coat up and put his shoes away, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt. She hoped he’d be thinking of her, because as she hung her coat up and left her shoes at the front door, throwing off her jacket and taking off her tights, she was thinking of him.

//Chapt 3

[farfanfiction]

Loyalty to the Pack: Part 3

Pairing: John Seed x Joseph Seed x Reader x Jacob Seed

AUs: Omegaverse, werewolves

Warnings: Cursing, angst, little bit of fluff, mentions of cheating (kinda), mentions of depression and anxiety, big fucking self-hate warning, mentions of sex, mentions of blood, mentions of suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4,046

A/N: Thank you guys for getting me past 10 followers! I’m very, very grateful to each and every one of you! For all of you who have read Far Cry: Absolution (highly recommended), Holly isn’t an utter bitch in the book like she’s portrayed here, this is mainly because I needed a character everyone can absolutely despise. And also for competition of sorts. I just wanna admit something. This series is very special to me, it’s my best series by far and it’s inspired by my life in some way. The self-hate, depression, and anxiety are deprived from my real-world experiences, and writing and playing video games, in general, help me release all those emotions. The message this story is trying to get across is, no matter what, do what makes you happy. No one is in charge of what you are or how you're gonna live your life, you decide that. Give me some feedback on what I could do better or what I did alright, where you wanna see this whole mess go, or something you just don’t understand. The gif is not mine. 

Masterpost   My Omegaverse Rules

   You gave him a look as he finished his little speech. You wish he wasn't serious, but this was John you were talking about. Even though he said it in a joking manner, he wasn’t joking. His rules were all too real and demanding. He simply smirked at your frustration. You knew you had to calm down, he just enjoyed your reactions. You denied him this simple pleasure by gripping your wrinkled dress and tried to muster up a friendly smile.

   “Since we’re both on the same level, why don’t we get you settled.” He stated, reaching into the back pocket of his dark jeans. He pulled out a small, black radio and talked into it in a low voice. Quiet enough so you wouldn’t hear.

   With a silent mumble, you turned to the side and whispered, “I’ll get you fucking settled.” You scrunch your nose in disapproval when the Alpha heard you. Putting his large hand on the speaker and leaning over to look at you with his menacing blue eyes.

   “What was that Omega?” he crooned in a sickly sweet voice. He knew exactly what you said. He was just trying to test his control over you, well not today buddy. You turned around and said nothing. He simply stared you down and then went back to his conversation on the radio. The person on the other side seemed pissed. Clearly yelling, but not loud enough for you to hear it.

   After a few more minutes of yelling between the Alpha and the person on the other line, the garage door swung open. A young woman with long brown hair stepped into the fluorescent lights. Her scent immediately hit you. Beta. She was a Beta with a scent as boring as any other Beta in Eden’s Gate. Omegas and Alpha usually smelled exciting, but Betas barely had a scent. This Beta had that scent, yes, but she had an undertone of something strictly Omega. It didn’t feel like a natural smell, more artificial than anything. This woman was definitely trying to be something she wasn’t.

   She gave a wink John a wink when she noticed him. Then proceeding to saunter over to him, her tight fitting dress swaying with each step. It was as if you weren’t there at all.

   He gave her a small smirk, different than the one he gives you. More lustful than anything else. His bright blue eyes were full of want for this Beta. Something that shouldn’t occur to werewolves unless there wasn’t enough Omegas around. There was something definitely going on here.

   “This is Holly. She’ll show you around the Ranch.” He stated, not turning his attention to you. He continued to stare at ‘Holly’. You turned to look at her, a look of distaste on your face. Your (e/c) eyes showing pure and utter hate for this Beta even though you just met her three minutes ago.

   You walked to the door and waited for her to come. She blew John a small kiss and John just smiled. Pure happiness coating his face. He combed his brown hair back and watched as Holly finally led you out of the garage. She didn’t look back at you as she walked like she wanted to forget that you were even there. You guess in some way, you couldn’t blame the Beta. Her and John clearly had something going on between them. Far more than a short fling. 

   She said nothing as she led you into the main house. It was as big as the outside. Antler chandeliers hung from the ceiling and animal furs and statues decorated the floors and walls. The furniture looked rather expensive with its shiny leather finish. Come to think of it, everything looked expensive. What made the Ranch appear as if it was apart of Eden’s Gate was not only the ridiculous amount of heavily armed guards outside but the Book of Joseph displayed on a nearby shelf with the ability to be viewed from almost every angle. Its pristine white and gold cover shinned in the sunlight. as if it was from Heaven itself.

   This was true, God did command Joseph to write the book. So, it did come directly from Heaven in a way. You believed in this, in Joseph, in God. The only two things you really believed in at the moment. The Father buried these beliefs in your heart and made it so the only thing you knew about was the Father, God, and the Great Collapse. Even if you wanted to believe in anything else, you couldn’t.

   The book itself drew you in as if by some kind of force. You reached up onto the shelf and grabbed the book with delicate hands. The very feel sending shivers down your spine and settling in your very bones. It felt smooth under your fingertips as you traced the cross of the church. Its shape like a burst of golden light. The light of a true prophet.

   When you put down the book, you notice a picture frame next to it. It held a photo of the Seed brothers, younger looking then they do now. John stood to one side of Joseph. His brown hair was wild and untamed as it fell over his blown pupils. He wore a droopy smile on his face as he stared at the camera. What made him look odd was the fact the Alpha was wearing an expensive looking suit, pristinely clean and ironed and his beard was completely gone.

   Joseph stood next to him, his brown hair falling onto his shoulders. His beard was long and messy, clearly needing a trim. His clothes were battered and worn, unlike his typical attire. Despite all that, he still wore a soft smile on his face and his deep blue smiled along with him.

   Jacob was the worst looking out of all of them. His hair and beard were an absolute mess. Clumps of red were tangled so much it didn’t even look like hair. His clothes were worse than Joseph’s. All bloody and utterly destroyed. But, just like his brothers, a small smile was present on his pale, blotchy red face.

   They all seemed so happy, despite looking so… so miserable. You had heard the stories of Joseph looking for his brothers...fuck, everyone apart of the pack knew the tale well. This was probably taken when they all found each other. The amount of happiness, joy, and love they must have felt that day seemed to be out of this world. A feeling that couldn’t possibly be yours with the situation you found yourself in.

   A loud cough interrupted your staring. You turned around to see the Beta looking at you with what you could only describe as a bitch face. Holly’s pretty face was scrunched up as she stared you down for wasting her precious time. “You know I don’t have to do this. John didn’t just ask me to help you, I did it out of the kindness of my heart. So, let’s not waste that kindness and leave.” She harshly whispered. You just hoped either God or John heard her. Maybe if you were lucky, both of them.

   ‘The kindness of her heart’ sounded forced. As if she was trying to score brownies points with John. To you, she was trying too hard. This Beta clearly had him wrapped around her little finger. He seemed desperate to please her and vice versa. You just hoped when you had your first heat, something John thought you already had, he wouldn’t deal with Holly. A wish that couldn’t possibly happen. If pups weren’t involved, why be tied down by an over emotional and needy Omega? Betas were a good enough fuck when you were in a rut.

   You simply nodded at her statement, not wanting to stir the pot more. She gave an annoyed sigh and led you to the stairs. You watched as she climbed the steps, the temptation of making her have an accident higher than it’s ever been in your life. Just being an Omega would restrain you from wanting to kill anything, but clearly, that half of you wanted that as much as the rest of you.

   You simply bit your lip in frustration and followed her onto the porch. You stopped for a minute and took in the view. The plants and flowers looked far better from up here, minus the men with guns walking around. Not wanting to be scolded again, you quickly got behind her. Holly soon stopped in front of a pair of large double-doors. She opened one door and practically pushed you inside. You let out a small howl and the faint smell of distressed Omega wafted off of you in light waves.

   To end this shitty tour, the Beta proceeded to slam the door, living you alone with your thoughts. You looked at your bedroom and gave a long, heavy sigh. It was small with a double bed, dresser, closet, and a couch. A small bookshelf was pushed into a corner as well, the only book on it was the Book of Joseph and a journal about werewolf behavior. Not a lot of thought and care went into this, just haphazardly put together. It was as if no one gave a damn, which was probably true.

   You flopped onto the bed with the haphazardly placed sheets and buried your head in a pillow. A whimper fell past your lips as you wished for your mother. Someone to at least comfort you as you made this hard transition. Soon the whimpers turned into sobs and sobs into full-blown wailing. Snot running down your (s/c) face and onto the white sheets. The salty tears mixed with the snot and you honestly didn’t care. The crying continued for hours. Your mind switching from one problem to the next until nothing was left but sadness and the want to leave. In a last attempt to clean up, you brought your white lace sleeves to your face and whipped away the snot and tears. There was no point in keeping it clean, it was going into the trash after this.

   You fell asleep soon after, dreaming of something far better than this. An Alpha that genuinely wanted to be mated to you, pups that could actually exist with a different person, and a whole new look on life if this one didn’t end up so shity.

   You woke up the next morning as miserable as the last. Not ready to get out of bed and join society as a fellow wolf and member of Eden’s Gate. You looked out the window, noting the sun slowly peeking its way above the horizon. Your stomach gave a small growl at the lack of food. You hadn’t eaten anything both from the nerves of getting baptized and the gut-wrenching news of being John’s Omega. There wasn’t much room for an appetite.

   Deciding to make breakfast for yourself and John, like the kind person you were, you got up and headed downstairs. This is where your lack of direction kicked in. That bitch Holly only showed you where your room was. So, finding the kitchen would take forever. You headed outside, still in your dirty dress and stopped a passing wolf. “Hey!” You called out to him. The Beta turned to look at you, confusion taking over his face. He gave you a look and then lifted a finger to point at himself.

   “M-me?” He called out, a slight stutter to his voice. You gave a nod and he trotted over. Tripping as he walked. This guy definitely wasn’t trained by Jacob.

   “Do you know where the kitchen is?” You asked, not missing a beat. He nodded and gently took hold of your smaller hand. He held it like glass as he walked you back inside the Ranch. The Beta led you to the double doors near the living room. He opened them and there appeared a large kitchen. Far larger than someone like Jonathan Seed needed.

   Without further hesitation, you got started on making the food. Making fresh squeezed orange juice, homemade pancakes and a side of fruit and sausages. You put it all on a little tray for him and headed upstairs, just hoping his office or bedroom was near yours. You wandered onto the balcony and peeked around every corner just to find this son of a bitch. Finally, you found it. The French doors kinda gave it away. You gave a small knock to the wood. Your anxiety now taking control. Your mind was asking you if this was a good idea, if he would actually appreciate it, or if he even wanted to look at your ugly mug.

   Your chest began to tighten and black spots filled your vision when John didn’t answer. Maybe he wasn’t in there? Was he out working? These questions began to combine inside your anxiety filled mind, making a cocktail of negative feelings and outlooks. You held your breath and you knocked again, a little harder this time. A muffled “come in,” sounded through the door and banging was heard before the French doors flew open.

John peeked his head out of the room and stared at the tray. His hair was a mess and sweat dripped down his forehead. It was as if he ran a mile, ragged breaths escaped him as he tried to get a word out. He looked down at the tray and frowned. “Thanks for the breakfast, but I already ate.” He licked his plump lips somewhat seductively as he stared back in the room. A figure flew behind him and onto his bed.

   “I would leave now. There’s nothing else for you to do for me.” He stated before polity slamming the door in your face. You gawked at the wood before pure anger took over. You whispered every curse in the book as you walked down the stairs and out the back door to the backyard. You walked to the edge of the yard and threw the tray out the side of the mountain hill. You waited for the sound of expensive china to shatter before you headed back in.

   Holly was definitely in there with him. Getting her grubby Beta hands on your Alpha! Wait, your Alpha? John hadn’t even mated you yet, he was still up for grabs. 

   This is probably how envy felt, a sin that felt so right, but so wrong. The feeling of jealousy was a strong one with its emotions and the want for what Holly had. Something she didn’t need.

   You muttered more curses as you walked to your room. You slammed the door, just praying its wood would splinter and John would have to pay to fix it. You flopped onto your bed and stared at the wood ceiling. 

   The untamed envy from before made its way back like a snake in the garden. Slithering through the tall grass before it strikes, bringing forth a wave of emotions, each more intense and painful than the last. Sadness and anxiety was the most potent. Making your chest heavier with each passing breath like it had moments before.

   John… He caused this. Made your anxiety worse with his cocky, yet sexy attitude. He mislead you into believing you were safe with him. That you were going to be an actual mate to him, come time for your first heat. If an Alpha wasn’t during that time, you would be either terribly injured or dead. Heats were painful, fall more painful without a mate.

   The pain in your chest got worse as you tried to suck in breath after breath. Each bone only giving a little oxygen. Tears dripped down your (s/c) face from the mere pain and sadness of not being with your Alpha. What scared you the most wasn’t the anxiety attack, but the fact that John was innocent in your eyes, no matter how much he hurt you in the past two days.

   The pain continued on for what seemed like forever. The scent of an Omega in pain wafted off you so much, it felt like it was dripping onto your skin and soaking your dress. For how long the attack went on, John didn’t show up. Probably too busy with Holly to care.

   You soon fell asleep, completely exhausted from your cry fest. You slept for so long, that it was about two in the morning when you woke up again. The sun was long gone and the number of armed guards was beginning to build back up for the tonight’s watch.

   You changed into a more comfortable outfit and whipped away any evidence of crying. You made your way downstairs to see John in the living room. Holly was nowhere in sight, thank the Father. “Well well, look who’s up finally awake,” John stated, not even looking in your direction. He was too busy buttoning his shirt to notice you. As he buttoned, you could clearly see fresh scratches running down his chest. Some of them dripped with a little bit of blood.

   Not wanting him to stain his shirt and hear his complaining, you walked to the kitchen and grabbed a towel, wetting it at the sink. You walked back and grabbed his hand before he could button it all the way. You began to dap his chest with the wet towel. It was firm and it seemed like he exercised with how much muscle was under his tan skin. He clearly looked like a twig that even you could snap when you first saw him

   The Alpha just looked at you as your Omega instincts took over, caring for a member of your pack. Even if he was a jackass. “I never expected for this kind of thing to happen with you. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining.” You gave him a glare but continued to tab at the blood. When he was clean, you threw the bloodied towel away and began to head upstairs.

   “Wait, (Y/N)...” You turned around, a surprised look on your face when he said your name. You didn’t even know John knew your name. Your family was made up of typical members of Eden’s Gate. Working under the Father, God, and the Heralds. Attending sermons and most importantly, preparing the bunkers for the Great Collapse. The Great Collapse was something that wasn’t taken lightly in the Project at Eden’s Gate. The people of Hope County said you were crazy but did Joseph care? No, of course not. It was him and his flock’s business when it came to surviving the end of the world as God has planned. They would be saved later.

   The only person who was expected to know everyone who was apart of the project was Joseph. To have John figure out your name was special in an awkward sort of way. “What?” You whispered. You turned to look at him, your (e/c) eyes heavy with dark circles.

   “Thank you.” You simply gave a nod and then proceeded to walk up the stairs. Wait, there was one last thing you needed to know. Where was he going?

   “Where are you going anyway?” Where would he even be going this late other than a sermon?

   “Joseph’s having a late night service for some… select children.” His was hesitant about the word children. He definitely knew something you didn’t and he was not going to tell anytime soon.

   “Ok…” The room became quiet when you had nothing else to see. You simply watched as John headed out the door to his garage. He then drove off, giving a wave as he went down the long driveway. You gave a wave from the window and headed back to bed, just praying everything was ok. 

   It wasn’t, everything was far from ok. There was a hefty amount of commotion coming from outside when you woke up. You walked to the window to see patrols coming in trucks, wave after wave of gun-toting men and women. Some even in wolf form, stalking the perimeter. They appeared to be looking for something or someone, whoever they were.

   The faint sound of heavy footsteps could be heard outside your door, getting louder as the person got closer. Suddenly, your door was thrown open and John ran in, out of breath.

   “The Father was almost arrested. The sinners are on the run, but I need you to stay here while I go find them by plane.” Wait, the Father was almost taken? That means everything was true. The Devil, Hell, a Whitehorse, and most importantly the Great Collapse. The Collapse has begun.

   “Wait, wait, Alpha don’t go.” John stopped at the word Alpha. You mentally slapped yourself from being so stupid. The Omega inside you was fearful for her Alpha, even though he wasn’t hers. He wasn’t yours. He can’t be, he had that Beta, Holly.

    He stepped towards you, his Alpha ready to comfort this Omega. He had an urge to protect his mate even if she wasn’t his yet. “Omega…” He breathed out, soft yet firm. To show you he was in charge of this situation. He gently grabbed your cheeks and leaned in. He touched his forehead with yours and there was an instant connection. You could feel his thoughts, his emotions as they raced through his head. One of them was so strong you could feel it swelling at the bottom of your gut. Fear. The great John Seed, the Baptist, the Inquisitor of Eden’s Gate, feared for his flock’s safety, his brothers’ safety, his sister’s and most importantly, yours. He feared for you, he actually liked you in some way.

   You two felt such comfort as you both shared your fears with each other. The Alpha slowly pulled away until your lips were just centimeters from each other. You slowly leaned in, not sure what you were doing. You barely knew this man for three days and you were already trying to kiss him. John flinched just a bit and pulled away. A squeezing sensation formed in your chest from the rejection.

   “Be safe, Omega,” John whispered, his blue eyes staring intensely into yours. Before you could say anything, he was gone and the faint sound of a plane engine filled the dark sky.

[bulltruearchive]

                                   SEND  ME  A  TOPIC  TO  WRITE  A  META  ABOUT  MY  MUSE  ON  !

meme   ›   accepting  !

@alamiras  asked: topic : family. #notsorrybutsorry.

@acadamias  said:  talk  about  chris  and  his  relationship  with  mister  eyeball  chambers :////

                                    family  ---  the  chamberses  !

i  put  it  in  a  post  by  itself  because  i  knew  it  would  get  wordy,  &  i’ll  probably  want  to  reblog  it  in  the  future.

gods.  i’ve  spoken  on  &  off  about  chris’  relationship  with  his  family  (  1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7  just  to  start  ),  but  .  .  .  i  have  a  lot  to  say,  &  it’s  probably  going  to  be  very  ineloquent  &  roundabout.  i’ll  split  it  into  family  member  sections  because  it’s  ,,,,  probably  easier  that  way.  it’s   2,131  words,  i  think.  read  at  your  own  risk  :/  i’ll  have  refreshments  ready

JOSEPH  ‘JOE’  CHAMBERS  —  FATHER  !

‘  chris's  dad  was  always  on  a  ‘mean streak’,  more  or  less;  he  was  a  drunk  who  got  welfare  off  &  on – mostly  on –  & spent  most  of  his  time  hanging  out  in  sukey's  tavern  with  junior  merrill, ace  merrill's  old  man,  &  a  couple  of  other  local  rumpots.  chris  didn't  talk  much  about  his  dad, but  we  all  knew  he  hated  him  like  poison.  chris  was  marked  up  every  two  weeks  or  so,  bruises on  his  cheeks  &  neck  or  one  eye  swelled  up  &  as  colorful  as  a  sunset,  & once  he  came  into school  with  a  big  clumsy  bandage  on  the  back  of  his  head.  other  times  he  never  got  to  school at  all. [ .  .  .  ]  that  was  the  time  mr  chambers  put  chris  in  the  hospital  for  an  overnight  stay, when  his  dad  heard  chris  was  suspended,  he  broke  chris's  nose  & his  right  wrist.  ’

chris  ‘hating  his  dad  like  poison’  is  an  understatement ; joe  chambers  is  the  single  reason  chris  never  drinks (  won’t  even  take  one  sip  when  the  despain  kids  smuggle  in  some  beer  to  the  treehouse  ) —  chris  is  terrified  of  turning  into  his  dad.  he  knows  what  the  townspeople  think  of  his  dad,  &  he  agrees  ——–  fuckin’  rummy.  joe  is  abusive - physically & verbally -, &  doesn’t  actively  contribute  to  the  family.  when  he  is  receiving  welfare,  he’s  spending  most  of  it  on  alcohol  &  coming  home  at  two  in  the  morning,  looking  to  use  his  kids  or  his  wife  as  a  punching  bag.  off  topic,  but  it’s  no  surprise  that  ace  merrill  turns  out  the  exact  same  way  ( if  you  replace  alcohol  with  cocaine ),  seeing  as  joe  & junior  merrill  are  on  pretty  chummy  terms.  similarly,  if   castle  rock  tv  is  to  be  taken  as  canon  .  .  .  richard  ‘  eyeball  ’  chambers,  too.  abusive  addicts  who  are  wastes  of  oxygen,  & are  as  awful  as  the  town  they  hail  from.

everything  chris  does  in  life  is  a  direct  attempt  to  not  turn  out  like  his  father.  he’s  physically  affectionate  to  his  loved  ones,  he’s  encouraging  of  their  pursuits,  & he’s  smart  —-  eventually  going  so  far  as  to  actually  put  that  to  use.  hardworking,  determined,  ambitious,  &  looking  out  for  children,  chris  is  the  antithesis  of  joe.  unfortunately,  years  of  systematic  abuse  from  both  his  father  & the  other  townsfolk  have  really  sunk  their  claws  in,  & chris  spends  his  entire  life ( deep  down )  worried  that  something’s  going  to  go  wrong, &  he’s  still  going  to  turn  into  his  father.  it’s  always  there  in  the  back  of  his  mind,  sitting  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach,  & he  dies  still  afraid  he’s  going  to  turn  into  joe.  the  phrase  like  father,  like  son  makes  him  feel  sick  to  his  stomach.  he  can’t  stand  joe,  &  the  second  he’s  cut  from  chris’  life,  there’s  a  definite  weight  lifted  from  his  shoulders.

RUTH  CHAMBERS  —  MOTHER  !

‘  other  times  he  never  got  to  school  at  all.  his  mom  would  call  him in  sick  because  he  was  too  lamed  up  to  come  in. [ .  .  .  ]  his  mom  had  gone  off  to  lewiston  to  stay  with  her  sister,  the  way  she  almost always  did  when  mr  chambers  was  on  a  bender.  she  went  &  left eyeball  in  charge  of  the  younger  kids.  ’

don’t  let  chris’  reverence  for  his  mother  fool  you  ——-  ruth  chambers  is  a  neglectful,  emotionally  manipulative,  emotionally  abusive  woman  who  has  attempted  to  foster  within  chris  a  sense  of  co-dependency.  she  dotes  upon  him  as  much  as  a  narcissist  can,  using  chris  as  a  vessel  in  order  to  make  herself  feel  better.  she  has  absolutely  no  issue  in  abandoning  her  family  when  the  going  gets  a  little  too  tough  for  her,  but  she  won’t  let  pass  an  opportunity  to  make  herself  look  like  an  angel  in  chris’  eyes.  when  joe  sent  him  to  the  hospital  for  a  night  that  first  time,  ruth  made  sure  she  was  the  one  holding  his  hand  when  he  woke  up  the  next  morning,  his  broken  wrist  in  plaster.  she’s  the  one  who  calls  him  in  sick  to  school  -  partially  because  she  knows  someone  has  to,  but  mostly  because  she  wants  him  to  think  she  cares  enough  to  keep  him  home  to  recuperate  &  heal.

she’s  a  religious  woman,  &  even  though  chris  stopped  believing  in  god  a  long,  long  time  ago,  he  still  very  occasionally  accompanies  her  to  church  with  deb,  because  he  knows  how  much  that  means  to  her.  ruth,  in  all  her  gratefulness,  makes  sure  to  let  chris  know  about  the  things  that  god  considers  a  sin  (  homosexuality,  pridefulness,  sex  for  pleasure,  sex  before  marriage  .  .  . )  ——  all  things  that  screw  chris  up  during  his  teen  years,  & leave  him  very  confused  &  unsure  about  who  he  is  for  a  long  time.

he  thinks,  when  he  tells  her  he’s  going  to  college  in  portland,  &  she  stops  speaking  to  him  for  three  weeks  before  he  leaves,  that  that’s  the  worst  of  it.  ruth  gets  actively  upset  that  he’s  leaving  ;  she  sees  it  as  her  son  abandoning  her.  she  can’t  stand  the  thought  that  chris  has  chosen  himself  over  her.  he  struggles  with  her  lack  of  communication,  &  gets  upset  when  the  day  comes  for  him  to  leave  &  she’s  nowhere  to  be  found,  but  ruth  comes  around  eventually  &  they  talk  on  the  phone  about  once  a  week  or  so  (  more,  if  she  decides  to  call  him  ),  &  chris  thinks  things  are  back  to  normal.

it  takes  him  about  a  year  &  a  half  of  living  away  from  ruth  to  tell  her  his  biggest  secret  ———–  that  he’s  not  entirely  straight,  &  if  he  was  upset  by  her  reaction  to  him  moving  to  college,  it’s  nothing  compared  to  what  happens  when  he  breaks  this  news.  despite  having  said  i  love  you,  baby,  always  a  mere  two  sentences  earlier,  chris’  confession  is  met  with  thunderous  silence,  &  eventually  a  curt  ‘  well  then,  you’re  going  to  hell.  &  i  don’t  want  anything  to  do  with  you  any  more.  ’  a  few  choice  derogatory  slurs  later,  &  she  hangs  up  on  him.  when  the  reality  of  the  situation  hits  chris  about  two  weeks  later,  &  he  cries.  true  to  her  word,  they  never  speak  again.

but  despite  that,  chris  never  realises  ruth  isn’t  a  good  person.  he’s  so  used  to  physical  abuse  being  his  benchmark  for  what  constitutes  as  abuse,  that  he  never  considers  the  fact  that  his  mother  .  .  .  isn’t  the  angel  he’ll  always  think  she  is.  he  sees  their  relationship  as  normal,  as  loving,  &  is  wholeheartedly  convinced  ruth  loves  him  as  much  as  he  loves  her  -  even  if  her  religious  beliefs  don’t  leave  much  room  for  him  at  times.

FRANK  CHAMBERS  —  OLDEST  BROTHER  !

‘  [ frank  ],  the  eldest,  ran  away  from  home  when  he  was  seventeen,  joined  the  navy,  &  ended  up  doing  a  long  stretch  in  portsmouth  for rape  &  criminal  assault. [ .  .  .  ]  like  my  dad,  when  frank  got  thrown into  the  stockade  in  portsmouth.  that  was  when  he  started  always bein'  mad  at  us  other  kids  &  hitting  us  all  the  time.  ’

chris  was  six  when  frank  was  thrown  in  jail.  he  doesn’t  remember  much  about  his  brother,  but  he  doesn’t  particularly  want  to.  a  rapist  for  a  brother  -------  chris  doesn’t  want  that.  as  far  as  he’s  concerned,  frank  can  rot  in  portsmouth, &  that’s  more  than  he  deserves.  he  doesn’t  care  that  that’s  when  joe  starting  beating  on  his  family  -  that’s  joe’s  problem  -,  but  to  think  that  that  is  in  his  family  .  .  .  that  frank  is  what  chris  has  every  potential  to  be  .  .  .  that  people  see  frank  &  think  chris  is  going  to  go  the  same  way  .  .  .  it  makes  him  even  more  determined  to  prove  everyone  wrong.

RICHARD  ‘EYEBALL’  CHAMBERS  —  OLDER  BROTHER  !

‘  his  brother  eyeball  had  broken  his  arm  in  two  places  & had  left  his face  looking  like  a  canadian  sunrise.  they  had  to  set  the  elbow-break  with  a  steel  pin.  mrs  mcginn  from  down  the  road  saw  chris staggering  along  the  soft  shoulder,  bleeding  from  both  ears  & reading  a  richie  rich  comic  book.  ’

it’s  funny  .  .  .  chris  spends  his  entire  life  thinking  joe’s  the  one  he  should  be  most  afraid  of,  when  time  &  time  again  it’s  shown  that  richie’s  the  real  antagonist  in  his  story.  not  only  does  rich  break  chris’  arm  badly  enough  that  it  needs  surgery  & steel  pins,  he  does  it  because  he  & his  friends  were  sore  about  the  brower  situation.  i’ve  argued  before  that  richie  very  possibly  did  it  to  warn  chris  away  from  ever  saying  something  as  fucking  stupid  as  ‘ 'oh,  why  don't  you  go  home  &  fuck  your  mother  some  more?  i  hear  she  loves  the  way  you do  it. [  .  .  .  ]  i  heard  your mother  fucks  for  bucks  [  .  .  .  ]  in  fact,  i heard  she  throws  blowjobs  for  jukebox  nickels.  i heard -'  ’  to  someone  like  ace  merrill  (  &,  in  fact,  that’s  almost  what  gets  him  killed  )  .  .  .  some  kind  of  twisted  family  morals  thing,  perhaps.  doesn’t  want  to  see  his  little  brother  get  killed  by  his  best  friend  [ SIDE  NOTE:  SEE  HERE  FOR  AN  INTERESTING  EYEBALL  REACTION ! ].  but  there’s  also  the  argument  that  .  .  .  richie  is  just  like  joe,  just  like  frank  :  a  petty  abusive  drunk  who  has  no  issues  hitting  someone  far  younger  than  him  to  the  point  of  landing  them  in  hospital,  & who  almost  definitely  is  going  to  be  an  abusive  husband  to  a  woman  of  low  self-esteem  who  finds  herself  easy  pickings.  he’s  a  coward  just  like  ace  ------  they  pick  on  those  they  don’t  think  can  fight  back,  &  they  get  power  from  it.

chris  once  said  he  didn’t  hate  richie  ; once  thought  richie,  maybe,  could  be  saved.  that’s  long  gone  out  the  window, & chris  can  feel  it  in  his  bones  that  richie’s  going  to  go  the  same  way  as  frank  &  their  daddy.  richie’s  a  high  school  dropout  who  hangs  around  with  ace  getting  drunk  & picking  up  girls  with  loose  morals  &  legs.  

the  older  chris  gets,  the  more  he  realises  rich  is  too  far  gone,  & there’s  fuck-all  he  can  do  but  watch  his  brother  drown  in  the  life  he’s  made  for  himself.

SHELDON  &  EMERY  CHAMBERS  —  YOUNGER  BROTHERS  !

though  they  aren’t  twins  (  there’s  a  four  year  difference  between  sheldon  &  emery  ),  i’ve  put  them  together  because  chris  .  .  .  doesn’t  differentiate  much  between  them.  they  may  be  five  &  nine  respectively  ( when  chris  is  twelve,  at  least ),  but  he’s  already  certain  how  they’re  going  to  turn  out  ------  just  like  the  other  men  in  his  family.  they’re  rude,  aggressive,  & violent,  expecting  their  mother  to  spoil  them  &  then  throwing  fits  when  she  doesn’t.  they  also  gang  up  on  their  sister,  &  sheldon  &  chris  have  gotten  into  numerous  rows  before  because  of  their  closeness  in  age  &  difference  in  personality.

DEBORAH  CHAMBERS  —  BABY  SISTER  !

chris  loves  his  sister.  maybe  it’s  because  she’s  so  young  &  he  basically  acts  as  her  proxy  father,  or  maybe  it’s  because  she’s  the  only  other  woman  in  the  house  (  &,  consequently,  will  turn  out  exactly  like  her  mother,  emotional  manipulation  towards  chris  &  all ),  but  whatever  the  case,  he  fucking  adores  deb.  they’re  incredibly  close  -  particularly  as  they  both  grow  older  -,  &  she’s  about  seven  when  he  leaves  for  college.  same  as  with  his  mother,  chris  never  realises  the  abusive  tendencies  in  deb,  or  how  she,  too,  just  so  happens  to  dislike  anyone  he  dates  because  it  means  she  doesn’t  have  his  undivided  attention.  chris  loves  deb,  &  they  vaguely  stay  in  contact  when  possible,  even  after  ruth  cuts  off  contact  with  him.  the  contact  with  deb  is  changed  permanently  from  then  on,  though  ----  there’s  a  slight  coldness  to  the  way  she  talks  to  him,  as  if  blaming  him  for  something  that  isn’t  his  fault.  it  doesn’t  help  that  she  likes  to  hear  him  apologise  to  her,  either.