#and the guy who drove up the mountain to the work site is all angry and is like man stop bragging about how EASY laying bricks is for you

[eosofspades]

okay so maybe it was just me being ahead of the curve or whatever but like. did anyone else have their ultimate misery / severe depression era during middle school instead of high school?

[crashdevlin]

Good Things: Part Three

Part One

Part Two

That day in Manitoba started a three week-long texting relationship with the eldest Winchester, which began with a simple 'How's your hunt going?' and slowly evolved to sexts and pictures... and then just stopped. You called and it went to voicemail every time. As the days of silence went by, you went through a cycle of angry, betrayed and worried.

"I know you're retired, Garth. I'm not calling you into a hunt!" You were in the worried part of the cycle and you had started calling every hunter you knew that knew the Winchesters. "I need to know if you've heard from Dean."

"I didn't know you even knew Sam and Dean." Garth mused on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah, for a little while now, okay, and I've been trying to get a hold of either of them for weeks and neither are answering their phones."

"Oh, that happens sometimes. They get into-"

"So, that's a 'no', Garth?"

"No. Sorry, y/n. I haven't heard from them in a while."

"Great. Do you have, uh, Jody Mills' number?"

"Yeah. You got a pen?"

Your conversation with Sheriff Mills had gone the same way, but ended with you being given Mary Winchester's number. "Hello?"

"Hi, uh, Mary? It's y/n."

"Oh. Hey."

"I'm trying to get in contact with Dean. Have you heard from him?"

There was a moment of silence followed by, "Castiel didn't call you?"

You swallowed, nervously. "Call me about what?"

She sighed, sending static through the phone. "I think it'd be better coming from Castiel."

"Mary, please. I have spent the last month thinking I did something wrong or Dean was killed or that he just decided he didn't want to waste his time with me! Don't make me wait for the fucking angel!" You exclaimed.

"Y/n... you didn't do anything wrong and they aren't dead... but they are in trouble and we... Castiel and I haven't been able to help them."

"What trouble?" Your voice barely came out.

"You remember how Lucifer was in Vince Vincente?"

"Yes."

"He ended up in President Rooney."

"What?"

"They were arrested after getting Lucifer out of him and black-bagged, sent to some... off-books black site that we can't find. That was... five weeks ago."

Her words hit you with enough force to knock the wind out of you. "How do you know they're still alive? Assault on the president, that's gotta be-"

"Castiel says they are, so I have to believe him."

You swallowed, fighting back tears. "Okay. Thank you... for telling me... Mary."

"The boys will be okay. I know they will."

"Sure." You lost the fight with the tears as you hung up. You went to sleep that night thinking you might have just lost the most amazing man in the world and you never gave him the fair shake he deserved, that you'd been so wrapped in your self-deprecating bullshit that you had lost the opportunity of a lifetime.

You threw yourself into a hunt, immediately. It didn't matter that it might be an entire nest of vampires and you were but a single hunter, you went to Lancaster, Missouri, anyway. You were met with confusion and a bit of anger from the townsfolk. Another 'agent' had been through the town, asking questions, before disappearing on the heels of the the fifth body drop. You easily found the bar that was the overlap between the victims and went to work tracking the monster from a bar stool, which is where you were when Mary Winchester walked in.

"Hey." You started. "Buy you a beer?"

"Sure." She sat down next to you and you nodded at the bartender to get another round of beers. "You here for the hunt?"

"Beats sitting around the house, wallowing."

She nodded. "I've always been a 'kill things instead of cry' kinda woman, too."

"That's what happens when you grow up in the Life. You learn to dissociate from pain... all pain."

"Yeah, Dean told me you were a 'born-and-raised' hunter, like me."

"He told me that you got out... supposedly." You took a drink of your beer. "Tried to do the normal-boring, raise a litter... but this isn't something you can just turn off, not when it's how you were raised, when it's who you are."

"True. Even when I was..." She shook her head and raised her bottle to her lips. "You can take a break but you can never stop. Like you said, it's who we are."

"Wanna work this together?"

"You've already done the legwork, I assume."

"Yes, ma'am. Beardy dude in the corner is our guy. Was gonna let him lead me back to the nest. Always good to have another machete at the party."

"Sounds good to me."

The nest was four vampires strong, but you and Mary took them out in a span of about fifteen minutes, heads rolling off your machete and across the floor like misshapen bowling balls. "Not bad." She said as the two of you walked out of the old shop they'd settled in. Her phone started ringing as the two of you moved to get into her car. "Castiel? Slow... slow down. What?" Her eyes widened as she sat in the driver's seat. "Oh, God. I'll be there."

She hung up and turned to you, looking through the open window. "Get in. The Boys have escaped. They're in Colorado. I'm meeting Castiel in Lebanon. Let's go."

Mary drove like a bat out of Hell. It was nauseating around the curves, how your insides pulled with the force, but you didn't mention it. You were glad for her fast driving, it just meant you'd get to see Dean again sooner. It cut a six hour trip from Missouri to Kansas down to two and a half and it was no time before she was pulling into a parking lot in Lebanon and Castiel was walking up to the passenger window.

"You got here quickly."

"Yep." Mary responded as Castiel got into the backseat. "What do you think we're walking into?" Mary asked.

"I don't know." Castiel answered, honestly. "We may want more backup. Crowley and Rowena?"

"The King of Hell and his mother: the witch?" Mary scoffed.

"Hope we can do better than that." You insisted as Mary buckled her seat belt.

"I may have an idea." Castiel said.

"Good. Seat belt on. I drive fast."

"She's not lying." You confirmed.

~~~~

Mary parked her car on Colorado State Route 34 in front of a black luxury car. You recognized the shorter man in the tan coat before you even got out of the car: Mick Davies, British Men of Letters. He'd been trying to get you to talk to him for months. "Miss y/l/n, a pleasure as always."

"Mr. Davies."

"This is my associate, Mr. Ketch. I don't think you've met." He gestured to his companion, a taller man with tattoos on his hands.

"No. Definitely would've remembered meeting this one." Ketch looked you up and down as Mary stomped around the front of the car to glare at Castiel.

"This is your idea? The people that almost killed my boys, they're gonna be our backup? Suddenly, the demon and his mommy don't look so bad." Mary said, snarkily.

"They helped us with Lucifer." Castiel defended.

"Lucifer? The Lucifer?" Mick asked.

"Yes."

"Wait, so, you're tellin' me what happened in Indianapolis was you took on the bleedin' Devil, himself?" Mick asked.

"Yes." Castiel answered.

"Did you win?" Ketch asked.

Castiel looked from the Brits to you and Mary. "Yes."

The Brits looked at each other, obviously impressed. "Bravo."

"But Sam and Dean were taken. We think we can get them back, but we need... help." Mary said.

"So, we'll help." Mick said.

"Really?" Mary asked.

"Just like that?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mrs. Winchester... y/n..." Mick stepped forward. "I came to this country to do one thing: Make friends. But you American hunters, you're... you're a different breed than our sort. You're surly, suspicious. You don't play well with others." Mick started.

"Well, that is accurate." Castiel commented. You and Mary gave the angel almost identical bitch faces.

"You don't trust people you don't know, even when they come bearing gifts. Now, I can't help that, but I can help you. And if word were to get out that we did our part to save Same and Dean Winchester, well, that's just good business, innit? And who knows? When all this is over, we might even be friends." Mick turned his gaze to you. "Maybe you'll let me buy you that dinner, finally."

"What's the saying about Brits bearing gifts?" You responded, with a sarcastic smile.

"That's Greeks bearing gifts." Ketch corrected.

"Yeah, but the Greeks left the gift for the gods and the Trojans stole it, whereas the British Empire had a habit of rolling across nations like they were God's gift, stealing resources and killing people. My way makes more sense."

The two men blinked at you as Mary leaned against the hood of her car. "We think Sam and Dean were being held somewhere in the Rocky Mountain National Forest."

"Site 94? It's a government facility, off-books. Shadow ops. One of those places that officially doesn't exist." Ketch said.

"Then how do you know about it?" Mary asked.

"We gather information. It's our job." Mick said.

"They told us to meet them off State Route 34." Cas tried to help.

"Which is a fairly long stretch of road and we don't know where, exactly, they're comin' up for air." You said.

"I'll get our techs to put a satellite over the area." Mick offered.

"You can do that?" You and Mary asked.

"And so much more."

"Do you have any idea what sort of trouble we're walking into?" Ketch asked Castiel.

"No."

Ketch smiled. "Oh, good. I do like a surprise."

It didn't take long for Mick to tell you that the satellite had picked up the brothers in a gunfight with some paramilitary guys in a small cabin and the five of you figured out the best area between the cabin and Route 34 to wait for them as the sun dipped lower and lower. The sound of them stomping through the underbrush turned your attention as they came crashing into the small clearing.

"Sam, Dean." Cas said, relieved.

Both brothers breathed the angel's name and Sam wrapped Cas in a hug. "Mom." Sam breathed as his eyes fell on Mary. He broke away from Castiel and enveloped his mother in a hug.

Dean hugged the angel, next, watching as his brother attacked their mom with love. "Hey, buddy." Dean patted his shoulder and moved to hug Mary.

You tucked your hair behind your ears as they greeted each other with love. You almost felt like you didn't need to be there, that you shouldn't be there, like this was a moment for family and you should've stayed at the car with the British Men of Letters. You were contemplating sinking backward into the trees, circling back around to the Brits' Bentley and Mary's car, when Dean pulled away from Mary and pulled you to him.

He was clearly exhausted, and he smelled like sweat, gunpowder and mud, but he held you to his chest like he never wanted to let you go and it was everything your heart needed in that moment. "I'm so happy you're here, y/n. So glad Cas called you."

"Actually, Dean, I didn't have y/n's number."

"I happened to be with y/n when Castiel called me." Mary said, gesturing through the woods toward where the car was parked. Dean didn't want to let you go, you could tell, but he pulled out of the embrace and took your hand in his as you started toward the road. "This girl can hunt."

"Mom, how did y'all even find us?" Sam asked, as the group emerged from the wood line.

"They helped." She nodded at Mick and Ketch, leaning against the hood of their car.

"Hello, lads." Mick greeted.

"They have a thermal imaging satellite that saw you... from space." Cas' words were stilted, like he wasn't sure he was saying the right thing, and Sam and Dean both looked confused.

"Well, we don't have one, just borrowed it for a bit. Friends in all the right places." Mick corrected.

"Well, I guess this is where we're supposed to say 'thank you'." Dean stiffened and you squeezed his hand.

"No need. Happy to be of service." Mick said.

"Again." Ketch stressed.

"Okay, then. We should get." Sam said, gesturing at the trees. "The people we left, they'll call for backup any second."

"Uh, you left survivors?" Ketch asked.

"Of course they did." You answered, immediately, as Sam squinted at Ketch and nodded.

"They were soldiers, just doin' what they were told." Dean responded, like he was talking to a child.

"Still... a bit unprofessional." Ketch continued.

"What profession do you think you're in, Mr. Ketch?" You asked, pulling away from Dean's side and stepping closer to the Bentley. "We're good people. Good people don't kill unless they have to. Especially other people."

"We'll handle it. Let's get." Sam said as Dean pulled your arm until you were back to his side and the two of you headed for the back seat of the car.

Dean pulled you into his lap as Mary pulled off and headed North. "Shoulda called you before we went up against Lucifer... how long were you in the dark?" He whispered. He hugged you to him, running one of his hands down your back and sweeping the other up and down your thigh.

"I got a hold of Mary a week ago."

"Shit, y/n. I'm sorry. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd want to help if you knew we were going up against-"

"Satan? Of course I would've." You turned to look at him better. "You offer me a chance at epic status and then you go against Lucifer and you freeze me out?"

"I couldn't even imagine sending you into a room with Lucifer. The thought of what he could have done to you... I tried to call, but I couldn't." He shook his head.

"Well, I suppose not hearing from you, not knowing what the hell happened..." You smiled softly and ran your thumb across his cheek to rub away a smudge of dirt. "That's not nearly as bad as being murdered by Lucifer or locked up in Site 94."

"God, you're understanding." He said under his breath, before twisting your body on his lap so that you were straddling him, facing him. He cupped your chin between his hands and looked deeply into your eyes. "I hope you're still this understanding at midnight."

"What does that mean?" You and Castiel asked, instantly worried.

Dean shook his head, looking from your face to the clock on the GPS and back. "Look, what I need you to know right now, y/n, is that I thought about you every day I was in there. I dreamed of your face, your smile. Those pictures you sent me by your pool..." He smiled, softly, tears brimming around his lashes. "I need you to know that... you're my good thing, too."

"Dean, what-"

He didn't answer, pulling your head forward to lock his lips against yours. There was no tongue, no heat, in the kiss. It was every bit of sweetness and care that you'd imagined your first kiss with him might carry, but there was an undercurrent of loss and sadness, like it might be the last kiss, as well. He didn't pull away until the radio spontaneously turned on, sending static through the car as the engine died. "It's time." Sam said from the front seat as the car rolled to a stop on a small bridge over Timber Creek.

You all got out of the car and stepped around the car. "What's happening?" Mary asked. Your eyes were stuck on Dean's face.

"Yeah, Dean." A voice called from the middle of the bridge. You turned to see a beautiful woman, wearing a brown leather jacket and a black t-shirt, arms crossed over her chest. "Sup?"

"Billie?" Mary asked.

"Who?" You immediately snapped.

"The reaper?" Cas' question answered your own.

"I don't understand." Mary turned to look at her boys.

"Mom... that place... there was only one way we were getting out of there, and that wasn't breathing." Dean responded. You shook your head. You didn't understand. Well, you did, but you didn't want to. "So I made a call."

"Dean talked with her and then Billie came to see me. And we made a deal. We'd get to die and come back one more time, but in exchange..." Sam started. He was having a hard time looking at Mary and Castiel.

"Come midnight, a Winchester goes bye-bye. Like, permanently." The reaper said, smugly, as Mary stepped right in front of her sons. You sat against the hood of the car, hand over your mouth. No wonder Dean had kissed you like that. "And that is something I've been looking forward to for a long time."

"Why would you-"

Dean cut his mother off. "We were already dead. Being locked in that cell with nothing... I've been to Hell. This was worse."

"At least this way, one of us gets to keep fighting." Sam reasoned.

"You don't have to do this." You flinched at the harshness of the angel's voice.

"Yeah, they do. We made a pact, bound in blood. You break that, there's consequences on a cosmic scale. So, who's it gonna be?"

Dean was about to volunteer. If the kiss hadn't tipped you off, the way he looked at Sam would have, but before he could do what he was planning, Mary turned to face the reaper, pulling her gun from her waistband. "Me."

"Mom." Dean said. "Mom."

"No." Sam said. "No."

Billie flung the brothers backward. "You said, come midnight a Winchester dies? I'm a Winchester." Mary explained.

"Works for me." Billie responded.

Mary cocked her gun and pressed the barrel to her temple as you squeezed your eyes shut and the brothers shouted at her to stop. "I love you." She sniffled.

The sound of piercing flesh drove you to open your eyes to the vision of Billie with an angel blade through her chest, just in time for the blinding light of her dying to make you squeeze them shut again. Castiel looked fairly shocked that he'd killed Billie, too, as Sam and Dean got to their feet. "Cas, what have you done?" Dean asked, looking at the body.

"What had to be done. You know this world, this sad, doomed little world, it needs you. It needs every last Winchester it can get, and I will not let you die. I won't let any of you die. And I won't let you sacrifice yourselves. You mean too much to me, to everything." You were certain you'd never seen an angel cry, but Castiel was right there on the edge of it. "Yeah, you made a deal. You made a stupid deal and I broke it. You're welcome."

There was a long moment of silence before you pushed away from the car and launched yourself at Dean. The slap you administered to his dirty cheek made your right hand hurt. "You absolute-" You let your left hand swing. "-idiot! We could have found you! You didn't have to do this!" You went for another slap with your right hand, but Dean caught it.

"Ow." Dean said, pointedly, moving his jaw. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?! You were gonna kill yourself!"

"We hadn't decided which of us-" Sam started.

"Dean had! Dean knew exactly which one of you was gonna bite that bullet." Dean looked down, a confirmation of your theory. "You were going to have us watch you die!"

"Because I had to! And it's not like it'd be a first, y/n. Everyone here, except you, has died. Most of us in triplicate." He dropped your wrist and stepped back. "And when I made that decision, I didn't know you and Mom were gonna be here. I thought it was just gonna be Cas."

"And that's better? That you thought only your best friend was gonna have to see it, that's better?!" You were screeching.

"Yes! I thought Cas would take it better than either of the women in my life! Obviously I was wrong." Dean argued.

"Don't say it like that, like he made some hysterical decision based in emotion. He made the rational decision. He was cool as a cucumber when he decided to save your mom from having to clean up your fucking mess! She was also super calm in her decision. The only one acting like a woman here is me and that's because I'm so pissed off I can't-" You cut yourself off and turned to Mary. "Just drop me in Loveland. I'll find my own way back to my car."

"Oh, come on, y/n! You shouldn't-" Dean started, stepping forward.

"Look, I need a fair amount of time and several bottles of wine to process what just happened, so you're gonna get in the back seat with brother and the angel and you're gonna keep your mouth shut." You demanded.

Dean sneered as he got in the back seat, allowing the smaller-framed Castiel take the middle as you got into the front seat. You'd been driving in silence a few minutes when Mary looked at you. "You know, I could get you back to Missouri, y/n. It wouldn't be-"

"Loveland's fine." You said, biting your thumbnail.

Dean made a huffy, displeased sound, but you ignored it. You recognized that sacrifice wasn't a question for the Winchesters. If it saved the other, or saved the world, the brothers would die for it. Seems they got that from Mary.

You knew sacrifice was a Winchester staple, but you hadn't expected to have to deal with it, yet. To have to confront the reality that Dean was always going to throw himself on a sword at a moment's notice to save Sam or the world... you weren't sure you were okay with that.

[clicheroadtripblogname]

Day 7: Misty Mountain Hop

About last night.

The sky was perfectly clear, and the moon was a sliver that set early, so it was pure Milky Way last night. I kept getting irrationally angry about people driving by on the highway next to the campgrounds, and EXTRA mad when someone had the audacity to arrive at the campgrounds and flood my site with their headlights. Rude. Can’t they just let me enjoy the sky without horrible human beings interfering? I’m realizing that while I love having a bathroom and water readily available, I hate the whole ‘other people’ aspect of campsites.

For example: around 6am, the couple across from me accidentally leaned on their car horn and my immediate thought was SOMEONE IS STEALING MY CAR AND THEY’RE NOT GOOD AT IT. It took me several tries to find my glasses in the tent, and then I zipped open my window to see if my car was being stolen. It wasn’t. But then I noticed that everything was cold and wet, so sleep wasn’t happening.

The whole world was misty in the Badlands today. The guy next to me, who had not made eye contact once while I was staring down his camping setup to make sure I was doing it right, asked me if I knew why the weather was so bad. No, dude. I don’t know. I was told to pack gallons of water because of how hot and dry it would be, and now I’m sitting in freezing mist wondering if I should bother hiking or try to jet to Yellowstone a day early.

Luckily, I packed for every possible weather condition in my vast array of bins.

I spent about 30 mins trying to make enough pancakes to feel like I ate breakfast. Pancakes are a horrible idea when you only have one portable stove and can only cook one silver dollar pancake at a time. One day I will know how to make camping food. Or I’ll buy a larger stove not designed for ultralight backpacking. I spent a lot of time staring at the full-fledged jumbo stove of the guy next to me.

I managed to get a hike in and drove along the scenic highway. Here’s all that:

All the mist made it extra other-worldly, especially in photos. I almost appreciated that it was not the best weather, especially when the mist let up and it was just gray.

I considered pushing through and driving 9 hours to Yellowstone, with a stop at Mount Rushmore. My original plan was to do Rushmore and camp in the Black Hills surrounding it, then do a 7 hour drive to Yellowstone tomorrow. Though while driving through the Black Hills, I almost stayed because it was so beautiful. But after the travesty that is Mount Rushmore, I kind of just wanted to press on and get closer to Yellowstone so I can drive less tomorrow. Only 4-5ish hours.

So that’s what I did. I’m at a campsite outside of Bighorn (which I’m 99% sure I called Big Teton earlier) National Forest. It’s similar to a KOA, which I hate. I can hear the highway. And there’s something about making chili next to your car, next to the highway, with bad lighting, while looking at Facebook, that feels really garbage. Plus, I’m sleeping in my car. It’s all a bit off. But my car is comfortable and yes, Aunt Doreen and mom, I’m using the curtains. The back window one didn’t work out, though. I’ll take photos.

Tomorrow: the absolute nonsense of Mount Rushmore, Wall Drug, and insane sunsets.

[globalsource-blog]

The Taiwan Correspondent -Episode II

I’d had enough. It had been too long. Things couldn’t go on like this any longer. I was getting close to breaking point, and pretty soon something would have to give. Thankfully, I’m not talking about my growing craving for some decent bread getting the better of me, although if anyone does feel like shipping me a couple of baguettes and a ciabatta then I promise free hummus for life for you and your children’s children once the Global Source Food Co. is up and running. No, I’m referring to the fact that up until this past weekend, I hadn’t yet spent a night outside of Taipei, despite having travelled around to a few nearby villages and the Yangmingshan national park to the north of the city. As I mentioned in my last post, these first couple of months (spent mostly studying and working as a night receptionist) had been great in terms of getting my Chinese back up to speed, but I’d grown more and more frustrated by having travelled so little round the island. I wanted to get away from the big city life, to see some of Taiwan’s famously beautiful nature and to meet some people less used to 外國人 (waiguoren – foreigners) than the cosmopolitan inhabitants of Taipei, people with whom I could get some proper Chinese conversation without recourse to English. 

After a couple of friends dropped out of a planned trip to Alishan, a mountain area in the centre of Taiwan due to a pretty shocking weather forecast, I made plans to check out the city of台中(Taichung) with a friend who I’d met on the orientation day at NTU, a soft-spoken Dane named Bjarke. I’d immediately taken a liking to him for his dryly understated sense of humour and I’ve since grown to appreciate his collection of three-quarter-length shorts and radical English vocabulary (think ‘stoked’ and ‘steezy’.) We’d talked earlier in the week about making a hammock-and-hitchhike trip down to either Taichung or 台南(Tainan), even if it meant going into ‘survival mode’ (his words). With this in mind I bought a couple of plastic rain covers to keep us dry in our hammocks, and we caught a bus down to Taichung on Friday night with no real plan other than to get out into the country and see where we ended up. It’s worth noting that the bus ride was a delight – as a veteran passenger / victim of the UK’s most reliably unreliable transport service, the Megabus, this trip felt like a ride on a cruise ship, with comfortable, properly reclining seats,  and enough legroom to dance a cancan if necessary.    

When we’d checked into our hostel, we headed out to see what Taichung had to offer on a Friday evening. The neighbourhood we were staying in was pretty much empty of human life, so we decided to get in a taxi and ask where the action might be found. The driver, a husky middle-aged guy whose polo shirt had given up trying to restrain his beer gut, suggested a night market and we gladly took him up on the offer. As we drove across town, I asked what he considered the highlights of the city, fishing for something worth doing the next day before heading out into the villages. His response was to ask me whether I liked strippers or dancing – I’m still not sure if this says more about his thoughts on Taichung or foreigners. Anyway, when we got to the market I was feeling happy with having held a conversation in Mandarin for a good fifteen minutes, even if the subject matter had been the relative merits of all-you-can-drink bars and those where you buy drinks separately (apparently the latter have more beautiful girls).  

When we’d made the rounds of the market, (I’ll be talking in detail all about Taiwan’s night markets in an upcoming post) we headed down a side street to get some less greasy food than the various deep-fried wares on offer between stalls selling screen protectors and bubble tea. The road was lined with small restaurants whose customers mostly sat outside on plastic stools, laughing and drinking beer. I hadn’t seen much of this kind of night-time atmosphere in Taipei; it reminded me of China, where for ordinary people socialising is something which takes place in the street, not in bars and clubs. As we sat down to eat, we were invited to join a table in front of a fruit stall, by a burly guy with a broad smile who turned out to be the stall’s owner. He insisted on treating us to fresh guava and papaya, as well as beer – he was delighted that I was able to keep up with his rate of drinking, a skill upon which he clearly prided himself. Speaking of pride, he and his friends were eager to talk about their love for Taiwan – we got onto the topic through discussing the merits of Taiwan Beer (the imaginative name for the island’s only major brand), and when they found out I’d lived in China they couldn’t wait to list the reasons why Taiwan was the place to be. I must admit, I could have been more vocal in disputing Taiwan’s absolute superiority, but thought coming to China’s defence would likely achieve little, besides sabotaging my new source of free beer. Anyway, as is often the case, I found that the alcohol greased the moving parts of my brain’s language centre, and before I knew it I had spent a good hour conversing and cracking jokes with the fruit seller and his boys. Unfortunately, Bjarke is a geography student and as such only started learning Chinese when he came to Taiwan a few months ago. As he was clearly getting a little bored of smiling and nodding at a conversation he didn’t understand, and as we wanted to make the most of the next couple of days, we said our goodbyes and headed back to the hostel.

After a night spent in the hostel’s stairwell, the only refuge from the incredibly loud and consistent snoring of an overweight roommate (sadly, such is the reality of staying in dorms), we headed out to start the day. Unable to sleep, I’d quickly looked up some attractions in Taichung and settled on the Rainbow Village, a quirky art attraction in the west of the city. It consists of a small group of low concrete houses built to accommodate Kuomintang soldiers after they retreated to Taiwan from China (I’m not going to cover the history of the Chinese civil war here, if you want to find out more head to Wikipedia), and which were already gradually being demolished when an elderly resident, Mr Huang, started to paint every available wall with simplistic images of people, animals and characters from legends, all in bright, childlike colours. The painted village eventually became noticed by students from a nearby university, and is now a popular tourist site. This was evident when we arrived to the sight of several tour buses parked up outside, as crowds of visitors milled around photographing every square inch of brightly decorated concrete. The paintings themselves are charming and the overall ambience of the village is pretty beautiful, although the thronging tour groups jostling for selfie spots cheapens the experience a little. Seemingly embracing the commercialisation of his creation, the nonagenarian Mr Huang himself was present at the gift shop, perched on a stool in his sunglasses and paying absolutely no attention to anyone, while a pair of (presumably) relatives sold postcards, fridge magnets and various other Rainbow Village merchandise to a steady stream of customers.

We left the Rainbow Village after not too long and headed to Fengyuan, a suburb to the north of Taichung where we’d decided to rent bikes and head out into the hills to the east of the city. We arrived just after midday, and soon found a place offering a range of bikes for around NT$200 per day – about £5. We booked a pair of mountain bikes for a couple of days, leaving my ID card as collateral, and were soon on our way along the Houli bike trail. As it turned out, this trail was hugely popular, and as Bjarke put it, this meant it was basically a “bicycle highway”, with heavy traffic in both directions. We were comfortably the quickest on the trail, including the many people who’d rented electric bikes, but overtaking was pretty sketchy since there were oncoming bikes most of the time as well. We ended up leaving the trail soon after stopping at a winery, where we tried a couple of local wines which left a lot to be desired – the kind of stuff you might keep in reserve in case someone you really disliked came round for dinner. Once we were able to make our own way, the ride became much more enjoyable. The scenery became more rugged and lush with each corner we turned, and we soon became very aware of the fact that Taiwan’s mountainous terrain means that outside the cities, the landscape quickly gets steep. A long, winding climb, which I made with my eyes fixed on the yellow tiled roof of a temple on a distant hillside, brought us to the top of a ridge from which we could see over the river which we’d passed over on a bridge while still on the bike trail.

Pausing to admire the view, we then descended down an equally winding road, passing by small farms with groves of orange trees. A couple of weeks before, I would have thought they were lime trees – the Taiwanese orange has mostly green skin, something I only discovered when the owner of my local vegetarian restaurant gave me one as a gift. As the afternoon went on, and we followed the path of the river to the south-east, we saw more and more fruit being grown - oranges, grapes, bananas, what I’m pretty sure was dragon fruit and a whole range of other produce which I wouldn’t begin to know the names of. Taiwan produces a huge range of fruit, which means it’s readily available, and cheaply – being able to eat passion fruit for breakfast nearly every day is one of the better reasons I can think of for getting out of bed. At one point we ended up accidentally cycling right through an orange farm, following a path which at points was just a strip of concrete on the edge of an irrigation ditch, which was a lot of fun besides being harassed briefly by a trio of angry (and understandably surprised) dogs.      

 After several hours riding through villages and past fruit farms, the light was beginning to fade on the damp hillsides. It had been lightly raining on and off for most of the afternoon, and as we started to think about finding a place to spend the night we rounded a corner and were faced with a beautiful and ghostly scene: an old cemetery, overgrown in places, whose tombs were shrouded with mist while in the distance, a ridge of high mountains stood in obscure shadow against the sky. Cloud swirled in the valley below. From the hill on which we stood, it seemed as though we were on a graveyard island in an ocean of white and grey; as clouds churned around the hills, bursts of wind and rain stirred the air. We stood watching the shifting mist, transfixed… this sight was truly breath taking to behold. Needless to say, my phone camera did not come close to capturing the scene. It was several minutes before we picked up our bikes and moved on. As we came to the top of another climb which wound up and to the right, we settled on a wooded hillside in the distance for a place to make camp for the night, far enough from the houses at the foot of the slope that nobody would notice a couple of hammocks among the trees. We had instant noodles and a small gas cooker, we just needed to refill our water bottles and we’d be all set to settle down as darkness fell.

We went to ask for water at a farmhouse, and struck up a conversation with a man and woman who were standing in the open lobby at the front of the house. They invited us to drink some tea and offered some dried fruit, and we happily accepted. They noticed the signs on our rental bikes and asked if we’d come all the way from Fengyuan, nodding and saying “lihai!” (which means something in between excellent and good job) when I answered that we had. The tea was a strong but not unpleasant herbal brew; I asked what it was made of and the smiling lady said proudly that it was a plant which they grew right there on the farm – she offered to show us, and since this kind of offer doesn’t come around every day, we followed her out of the gate and across the road into a huge darkened shed. What was inside was truly impressive; hundreds of shelves of earth covered in all sorts of weird-looking growths of different sizes and shapes. The farm’s owner was inside the shed and our new friend introduced us – I found myself getting along well with our host, introducing myself and Bjarke, and talking for several minutes about what we were doing in Taiwan, where we were from and even a light-hearted discussion of Brexit. We went back to the farmhouse, and after more tea and meeting several members of the family, the boss, whose name was Mr Wu, invited us to stay for dinner. I explained that we needed to find a place to set up our hammocks before it got dark, miming two trees and something slung between them (I’ve since learned the word is diaochuang), and at once several of the family pointed to the trees to the side of the farmhouse.  

The hospitality of the Wu family was incredible. Given the choice between a night spent having dinner and getting to know this kind family of Buddhist farmers, or eating instant noodles by ourselves in the rain, my heart was firmly set on the former option. Bjarke reluctantly agreed, although I could tell he was a bit put out not to be going full ‘survival mode’. We set up the hammocks with the rain covers in the yard, and were soon eating dinner on the patio with Mr Wu while the rest of the family ate upstairs. Since the family was Buddhist, we ate a vegetable stew with fried rice – simple, tasty food. As directed by our host, we ate several portions each, as I talked with Mr Wu and translated for Bjarke, and in order to show our thanks for their generosity, I insisted that Mrs Wu let us do the dishes. After dinner the whole family congregated in an outbuilding which was comfortably decked out with sofas and chairs to watch a documentary about camels in western china. Several family members said that we should sleep in this room; nobody stayed in the building at night and we’d be sure to stay dry. However, this was not what we’d planned, and they had already been kind enough. We were both tired from our early start and the day’s cycling and we soon started to drift off, and went to our hammocks smiling with full stomachs.

For the sake of brevity, I’ll end this post here. Suffice it to say it rained heavily all night, and by 4am we were both getting a bit too wet for comfort despite the rain covers, so we quickly headed in to the outhouse for a few hours more rest, before having breakfast with the family (there was seemingly no end to the kindness they were willing to offer a pair of strangers). We then set out on the bikes, in better weather, through the lush mountain landscape, finally arriving back in Taichung in the late afternoon, where we eventually caught a train back to Taipei for a much needed shower and good night’s sleep.                  

[mochiinet]

1) “Pull over.  Let me drive for awhile.” -- 100 Ways to Say I Love You

Characters: NCT’s Jaehyun & OC

Word Count: 1578 words

Summary: You and your co-worker are being brutally beaten by a case and when all the evidence that you’ve worked hard on for the past two weeks goes missing last minute, you need to come up with a backup plan to present to your boss.  So you decide to head back to the sight of the crime, but it’s two hours away by car…

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Your co-worker looked at the now empty evidence room that you had both just walked into.  The once packed whiteboard had been completely cleaned, not a trace of black marker to be seen.  The overloaded and layered walls full of pictures, lists, notes, and documents had been stripped to reveal the foreign grey paint, no tape or pins anywhere.  "Are we even in the right room?“ He started frantically looking around the room, outside the room, down the hallway.  You just stood there, not wanting to take in the scene of the emptied room.  "This doesn’t make any sense.  Where did everything go?” You started to find your words again.  "SHIT!“ You heard him slam the wall in the hallway and you could almost feel the vibration going through your body.  

"Y-yah… Jaehyun… you’re going to hurt yourself.” You walked out of the room to where he was in the hallway.  There was a noticeable dent in the white wall, but you disregarded it and shook your head as he shook his hand and bit his lip, cringing from the pain.  You’d seen Jaehyun angry before, being a detective was a stressful and frustrating job.  But this was just unbelievable.  He had a bit of a short temper, and you were the calm one of the two.  But this was making you reach your limit.  And he could tell.  He looked at you and checked your blank expression as you thought of what to do.  "Call Yuta, ask him to check all the surveillance cameras here, I need to see what happened.“ You said to him as you pulled out your own phone and started looking through your contacts.  "I’m going to call Taeil and tell him to send all the medical docs he can find, and then I’ll see if we can get any of that photo evidence from Doyoung again.” You explained as you waited for the dial tone.  He nodded and pulled his phone out too, starting to dial Yuta’s line.  

The two of you spent the next hour and a half trying to recollect all of your evidence, writing down things you remembered, jotting down questions about things you were forgetting, and things you still needed answers to.  Your presentation in front of the precinct was the next morning, but at this rate nothing was working out.  Yuta had checked the videos but all of the surveillance videos were faulty and skipped, giving you nothing.  Taeil was busy with another case, but he said he’d get the documents to you ASAP.  Doyoung wouldn’t pick up his phone, and things were looking grim.  "I think I’m going to cry…" Jaehyun said dramatically, but you knew he really mean it.  You were frustrated too and everything was just not going your way.  "Let’s go back to the site.“ You said.  "Seriously?” He looked up at you from his desk separator across from you.  "Doyoung isn’t going to get back to us any time soon at this rate.  That’s the most important part, the photo evidence.“ You said, trying to prioritize.  

"I mean I guess, but you do remember the sight is like an hour away by train, it’d take us at least two hours to drive there.” He said.  You looked at the clock.  *9:48 PM….*  Your hands went straight to your head in frustration, trying to wager with yourself as to whether or not it was a good idea to go or to just wait for Doyoung.  "If we go we’ll get there around 12, then it’ll probably take around half an hour to get the pictures we need, and then another two hours to get back, and then the rest of the night to put together the presentation.“ You thought out loud, hands covering your face, slightly muffling your words.  "I’ll make some coffee, and then we’ll go.” He said.  You removed your hands from your face and looked at him, trying to read whether or not he was serious.  "Come on, get your stuff ready, we’re not sleeping tonight.“ He said, walking past you to go to the coffee machine.  You groaned at your own suggestion, but got up anyways and went to grab all the supplies you guys would need to get the evidence.  

It was all very confusing.  The situation you were in, not only in the context of the emptied evidence room.  You and Jaehyun had been friends and partners for years.  From attending and competing against each other in school, to the first few years at the precinct, you’d been through everything together.  And you guys made the perfect pair.  At the top of your class, you both graduated with the highest marks.  While you guys thought differently, you never failed to test each other and make each other better at what you did.  Solving case after case, bumps in the road never stopped you guys and that’s what made you different.  There were a few moments where you’d questioned if working with him was a good idea, and it wasn’t just because of a differing view on a case.  Both of you guys had felt a connection for a while, but neither wanted to admit anything because the stakes were too high to risk.  You needed 100% attention to the cases you worked on, nothing was to get in the way of your thinking.  But there were little things that he did, that showed that you weren’t the only one who noticed that connection.  Even if was simple things like making coffee, you appreciated it greatly.

After gathering all you needed it, was a little past 10 and you guys headed out in the van.  You drove while Jaehyun continuously tried to get Doyoung on the phone while writing up the presentation with the old notes he had on his laptop and yours.  The coffee really helped you stay awake, but Jaehyun started to doze off around one hour through the drive there and you let him nap since Doyoung wasn’t picking up and you could pick up the phone if Taeil called.  You couldn’t even think of sleeping anyways, the adrenaline from going back to the crime scene was scaring the shit out of you.  Of all the years and lessons you’d been through, this case was like no other.  You started to recognize the old and worn out street signs and the GPS was leading you through a small town in the mountains.  Your phone started to ring and you saw Taeil’s name pop up.  You picked up the phone and Jaehyun slowly reacted to the noise.  "I found what I could on the case, but there’s some stuff missing.  I don’t know what happened to it.” He sounded a little distressed.  "Thanks so much Taeil.  Which parts are missing?“ You asked.  "Just small pieces of formulas, it’s like someone handpicked small portions of the formulas and erased them.  This is so weird.” He said.  I heard clicking in the background and I could almost see him frowning at the computer with his glasses at the tip of his nose, trying to figure out what was missing.  

“What in the world is going on…” You sighed.  "I’ll send you what I have.  I finished with the other case, so I’ll just rack my brain until I can remember what parts they took out.“ He said.  "You’re a life saver.” Jaehyun’s groggy voice mumbled in agreement and Taeil laughed.  "Drive safe!“ Taeil said.  "Will do!” You hung up and pulled up to the abandoned building.  Jaehyun put all the stuff back in his bag and carried it with him while you took the camera and your bag as well.  You left the car empty and headed through the security tape into the building.  After taking pictures of what you needed, you headed back out and checked the van thoroughly before heading back out on the road.  You were driving again since Jaehyun was working on the presentation, but you kept yawning, the caffeine slowly wearing off, exhaustion washing over.  You hadn’t even gotten ten minutes out of the mountains yet but you were starting to lose to the exhaustion.  Jaehyun glanced at you through his peripherals and closed his laptop as you covered your mouth as you yawned again.  "Hey.“ He said, turning to you.  "Hm?” You asked, not looking at him, keeping your eyes on the road.  "Pull over.  Let me drive a while.“ He said.  "You’re exhausted _____.  I can drive.” He said.  You looked at him.  "Are you sure?“ You asked, immediately looking back at the road.  "Yeah, pull over right there.” He said, pointing to a curb.  

You silently pulled over and got out of the driver’s seat.  Jaehyun waited for you to come over to the passenger’s side and you sat down in the seat, reaching for the seatbelt.  But he got to it first.  He buckled your seatbelt and pat your head.  "Take a nap.“ He said, closing the door after him.  He walked over to the other side and got in the driver’s seat.  "Thanks Jae.” You said, smiling sleepily at him.  "We’ll have to stay up the rest of the night, so get what sleep you can now.“ He said, laughing a little before starting the engine back up.  You sighed and closed your eyes, drifting quickly to sleep as Jaehyun headed back out on the road back to the precinct.  

OOOOOO this actually came out pretty decently, I was writing it as a drabble but might make it into something?? any thoughts? LOL we’ll see!! :)  ALSO IMPORTANT NOTICE!!! I have changed my blog to MOCHII.NET!!! just a notice!!! & Thanks anon for checking my words!! haha

[theamazingworldoffandomfics]

I’m Not Useless

Warning: slight angst, if there’s others please let me know

Pairing: eventually Thorin x reader, the company, Gandalf

A/n: I’ve been working on this since I think december. I finally finished it hahaha My first Thorin fic, hope you all like it. Plus the tag lists are still open

Tag list: @douchepoolonsie @a-lonely-string @fandoms-writer @theoneandonlysaucymo @petlaufeyson @panic-angel3314 @feelmyroarrrr @nea90sweetie @mysaria @hymnofthevalkyries @idorkish @ladyjayelehnsherr @holding-on-to-francis @maxifuckoff @originalwinchestervamp @kylieisnotnormal @pureimagination01 

              Before Thorin had said anything about stopping for the night, you wondered off into the woods. You were shorter than Balin and you were as small as Ori, if not smaller. You thought none of the company wanted you with them. Thinking the only reason Thorin had let you come with them was because you were born in the halls of Erebor and you told him you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You would have followed them if he had denied you coming.

               Armed with your bow and sword, you searched the woods for something better than a crappy rabbit. Slowly making your way through the trees, you hear a faint sound of a large beast. Pulling an arrow out of your quiver, readied your bow, and made your way towards the beast. The beast was grazing on some grass as you let loose an arrow. The arrow embedding itself into its back which only caused it to get angry. You quickly slipped your bow over your shoulder while drawing your sword. The boar charged at you. Just before the boar lunged at you, you swiftly leaped onto its back and drove your blade into the back of its neck. The beast fell to the ground which only caused you to go flying off but landed on your knee.

               You stood up and smirked to yourself. You walked back to the dead beast and pulled your arrow from its hide along with your sword.

               “Now let’s see if any of the others will speak poorly of me now.” You chuckled as you began to drag the beast towards where you thought the company would camp for the night.

 *The Company*

                 Everyone started doing what they were assigned to do like always. Thorin was doing a head count only to realize he came up short. He walked about the area only to come see that you were nowhere in sight.

               “Has anyone seen (Y/n)?” Thorin’s voice boomed over the area which caused everyone to look at him confused. Everyone except Bilbo.

               “I haven’t seen her since earlier, before we stopped for the night.” Kili said as he was carrying some wood for the fire followed by Fili.

               “I swear she is damn near as useless as Ori at times.” Thorin rubbed his forehead with his hand.

               “Well, um, maybe she heard you talking earlier. She did seem a bit off before she wondered off into the trees.” Bilbo had seen you wonder into the woods. None of the others knew that you had overheard them and the look on Thorin’s face was proof. “She’s not as useless as you all think.”

               Just then a loud sound echoed through the trees. It took a moment before most of them realized that the sound came from a boar, a pretty large one at that. Kili looked at Fili shocked.

               “You don’t think that could have been?” Fili looked back at his brother shocked as well and shrugged. Bilbo stood there with a look of pride on his face, knowing damn well who just killed the boar that everyone just heard.

               You saw the light of the fire through the trees and you heard some of the others talking. They had been talking about you, from the sounds of it.

               “Do any of you know what (Y/n) did before embarking on this journey with all of us?” You heard Bilbo ask the others, to which you never expected none of them to answer.

               “She was, um, she was.” Thorin tried to think of what you did. Truth be told, none of them truly knew of what you did. In all your years in Erebor, you never once set foot in the mines themselves. All you mainly did was smithing. You never made weapons like a lot of the other males, like Thorin, you mainly work with gold silver and copper along with some gems that were to be laid in the metals. You had known Thorin’s mother who you had made several pieces for at her request, knowing that the metal would be prefect just the way she wanted it and better.

               “I was what most would call a jeweler. I worked with precious metals like gold and silver.” You walked out of the trees, dragging the boar towards the group. “In fact, Thorin’s mother had requested that I make a few pieces for her. Which most were beaded clasps for her and her family.” You looked at Thorin, seeing one of the beads you had made before Smaug invaded and took your home. “After Smaug attacked and after many had settled into Ered Luin, I didn’t pick up my skill. Instead I took up hunting and trained myself to fight.”

               “You took down that beast yourself?” Bofur was shocked to see someone as small as you dragging a boar that was as big as you were, if not bigger.

               “Yes I did.” You looked at Thorin straight in the face. “I’m not as useless as I look.” You walked past everyone, leaving the boar to the others to take care of. Oin had followed you, worried about you.

               “Let me check to see if you were hurt, Lass.”

               “I’m fine, Oin. The beast didn’t even touch me, let alone scratch me.”

               “I want to make sure.” You held up your hands and looked at the Dwarf in eyes.

               “Oin, I’m sure I’m fine. Mahal couldn’t take me down, not without a fight.” He shook his head and walked away. You only had a few moments to yourself before Thorin stalked over.

               “What in the name of Mahal did you think that you could take down that boar by yourself?” Thorin looked pissed and it didn’t bother you.

               “I heard what you guys have said about me. How I’m just as or more useless than Ori. Ori is a scribe you thick headed horse’s backside. You knew damn well what I did before that blasted dragon took our home. Yet you still had the nerve to say I’m as useless as a scribe, a scribe. Ori has proved that he has courage that you thought he didn’t have.”

               “Ori is different.”

               “No, Thorin, Ori is not different. The only thing that is different between me and Ori while on this quest is the thing between his legs. Yet our own burglar was the one who saw that I was not as useless as you tried to pin me as.” You pushed past Thorin, stopping next to him. “Now if you don’t mind, your majesty, I’m leaving this conversation before I get the urge to do something that would be regretted.” You continued past him and past the others without even a second glance at any of them.

               The others just stared at you as you walked away from the camp site and into the woods. None of them said a single word to you as you walked past them all. Bilbo was the only one who tried to talk to you and even the wizard Gandalf spoke to you when he was around. Even Gandalf had tried to tell the other males that you weren’t useless like they thought you were.

               You walked through the trees, lucky that you were light enough that no leaf crunched under your feet and there was almost no sound from your heavy boots. The quiet was like home for you, ever since settling in Ered Luin you had settled into a quiet area of the mountain. You didn’t have to listen to others talk about you, despite everyone had lost someone due to Smaug but you lost everyone close to you. You had lost you mother, father, uncle, and aunts, you had even lost a few friends but you didn’t want to burden anyone with your pain. The trees gave way to a small clearing. As you look behind you, you could still see the glow from the fire.

               You walked into the center of the clearing and sat down in the grass. Looking up at the sky, you decided to let yourself relax. Sliding off your quiver and bow, you laid back and just watched the sky. Missing how the stars looked as you looked from above the gates of Erebor, missing the heat from the furnaces of the forges, missing how when you were a youngling and being friends with Thorin and not caring at the time of titles or of the dragon that would take over. The memories of your family flashed before your eyes and a single tear slipped from your eyes, sliding slowly into your long semi-matted hair.

               You heard a twig snap from where you came and quickly sat up, swiftly grabbing your bow and an arrow then aiming it at the intruder. You would have thought Bilbo would come to talk with you but instead you find yourself aiming your bow at Thorin. You undrew your bow and set it back on the ground where you had it then laying back down on the grass, not caring if Thorin came or went. When the stubborn Dwarf didn’t leave you sat back up and looked at him.

               “What do you want, Thorin?” Your eyes looking up at the sky above you.

               “I have come to talk.”

               “I do not feel there is a need to talk.” You gently slid a hand down your face before you sat up completely. You grabbed your bow and quiver before standing up. Turning to face the Dwarf that you had known your whole life. “You have already said enough so far on this journey. I doubt that there is anymore that you can say. You had already deemed me as useless and yet I killed something for your company to eat.” You started to make your way back towards the others when Thorin grabbed your arm and stopped you from walking further.

               “Will you hear me out for a moment before walking off again?”

               “Why shall I give you the honor of calling me useless to my face or even try to tell me just how foolish I was to take on that boar myself.”

               “I am the leader of this company and the rightful king under the mountain.” His voice low and stern which sent chills down your spine but you were able to hide it.

               “Good for you Thorin. I honestly lost all hope of caring what title you held decades ago. I do not care if you are the ruler of all Middle-Earth, I deny you of saying what you have on your mind. You have called me useless when you thought that I couldn’t hear.” You felt the familiar pain in your chest that you had been getting since this whole thing started. “You may be the leader of this company, Thorin, but have clearly forgotten that you weren’t the only one who lost people in the attack. You can stand here and say you didn’t lose your father and your sister while others have lost everyone. You have your family, Thorin. I have nothing to live for back in Ered Luin and I will not be able to lay to rest my family who had fallen trying to escape Erebor.” You pulled your arm from his grip and turned to look at him, trying not to think of the family you had lost. “Now that I see I can’t be left alone. I’m going to set up my bedroll and go to sleep. Good night, your majesty.” You started to walk away from Thorin.

               “(Y/n)…”

               “I said good night.” You looked back at him, not realizing a single tear slipped past your lashes and streamed down your cheek. Turning around, you walked back to the camp and off to the far side away from everyone you set up your bedroll then readied yourself for bed. You faintly saw the expression on Bilbo’s face as you walked by everyone, you knew he would worry about you since he was the only one besides Gandalf who saw your worth. You grabbed your cloak and went to sleep.

               Bilbo looked from your now sleeping form to the others of the group. His mind was on how you made sure he was safe up until now. He released a sigh which didn’t go unnoticed by the others.

               “What’s troubling you, Bilbo?” Bofur looked at a concerned Bilbo.

               “(Y/n) has become like a sister to me. An older protective sister but a sister none the less. She had saved me many of times up till now.” He thought back to every time you fought fiercely when he became outnumbered or when he became slow.

               The others sat there as the boar cooked, not really knowing how to reply to what Bilbo said. He thought back to the conversation that the two of you had earlier that day.

               ~ “I’m leaving the company tomorrow before the sun rises in the sky.” Taking off the hood of your cloak. “I’m tired of being belittled by those who are supposed to have my back.”

               “You cannot leave the company, (Y/n). Who will keep me company and have an enjoying conversation with?”

               “I must leave, Bilbo.” You looked towards Thorin, not regretting the emotion that was showing in your eyes. “No one but you wants me here, you have heard them yourself.”

               “They are frustrated and this journey is getting to them.”

               “That does not give them any right to say what they have said. I have just as much right to be here, being born in those tunnels like Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, and a few of the others.”

               “How much younger that Thorin are you, if you don’t mind me questioning?”

               “Only a couple years.”

               “You look a lot younger than him, you look almost the same age as Fili.”

               “That is very kind of you, Bilbo.” You gave the Hobbit a small soft smile, one that hadn’t seen much light as of late. “It warms my heart that you think that. Mahal knows we all need a friend who sees our worth even when others don’t.”

               “Does that mean you will change your mind about leaving?” You shook your head at him.

               “No it doesn’t.” You started messing with the butt of your blade. “I can make it back to Rivendell in a few days, a week if that and I’ve heard that the forges there are descent but nothing like the forges of Erebor.” You smirked a little at the comment.

               “Whatever happens tonight, Bilbo, do not tell the others especially Thorin that I will make my way to Rivendell. Thorin holds a grudge with all Elven kin thanks to the Elven king Thranduil.” Bilbo nodded his head with a sad look on his face.

               “I will not tell them.”

               “Thank you, Bilbo.” ~

                 With dawn a few hours away, you woke up. Looking around at the camp and seeing that everyone was asleep. Quietly you packed up your bags and was about to take your leave when a voice made you stop.

               “Where do you think you’re going?” The voice was not of one of the dwarves or even Bilbo but of Gandalf.

               “I’m heading back to Rivendell.”

               “You don’t have to lie to me, (Y/n). You’re going to head towards Erebor. You lied to Bilbo, telling him you were going somewhere safe.”

               “He has enough to worry about with being with this company and all. If he knew where my path would truly take me, he would most definitely worry and try to keep me here.” You looked at Bilbo as he slept.

               “Then why go? He sees you as a sister.”

               “I know he does but I must take my leave before things are said that will be regretted.” You looked at Thorin and felt your heart hurt. The two of you used to be best friends when you were young and now it’s as if reclaiming Erebor is more important. “May the wind always be at your back.”

               Without waiting for a retort or even a response, you turned away from the wizard and left the company. You knew you would see them all again, you just didn’t know when.

[cosmosogler]

today i did a lot of laying around. not literally laying, but otherwise being lazy.

i don’t know why i feel so confused... i feel really disoriented in my dreams, and sometimes i am sort of unable to follow what’s going on as it happens. and then i stay confused after i wake up for a little while. and my head hurts, because of course it does.

in the morning i chilled out i guess. guess what i didn’t work on? that’s right, the self esteem worksheet!!! i will try again tomorrow.

at around 11:30 i gave up hiding in my room because my eyes and head were starting to hurt and made myself some pasta for lunch. i ate a few bites and then threw it away. even a pile of parmesan cheese couldn’t encourage my stomach. then i drove out to my therapist’s office and talked about stuff. i think we got somewhere this time. 

it’s hard to explain in non-conversation form. and i’m not sure how to start.

i went through a quick demonstration of my family tree and talked about some stuff regarding the hawaii trip coming up in a few weeks. i realized that i can see her the week we leave though since we’re leaving on thursday and my appointments are on tuesdays. so that was kind of a relief. and i went through my plans in the case that i am unable to continue group therapy, and in the case that my coverage gets re-approved. 

and then we talked about my self esteem worksheet. i talked about some of the stuff i brought up yesterday in my post, but i decided not to talk about my dreams because there just wasn’t enough time. 

... it’s strange. i don’t particularly like anything about myself, but it’s not like i don’t make what i think are the best decisions in the situations i find myself in. so, like, i’m not being an asshole on purpose at the very least. i don’t understand why i hate myself so much. like yeah i was a pretty nasty teenager... as teenagers can be. but these days? i don’t hurt no one on purpose except myself. and also bugs i guess. 

maybe i used to understand why i hate myself, or at least had a solid goal in mind with it, but i forgot. maybe it’s because i’m not eating enough. it’s hard to remember what happened this morning let alone a couple weeks/months/years ago. the plus side of not having enough energy to think is that you don’t think about things too much. the downside is, of course, that you CAN’T think about things too much.

i gotta... look at my worksheet and write some new rules down. i’m too tired right now and my eyes hurt too much. my eyes hurt while i’m typing this too but i gotta think some stuff through and i won’t be able to keep track of my train of thought unless i am writing it down. and i type a lot faster than i write.

we’ll come back to that later. after therapy i had trouble getting home because the construction guys are doing the other half of the roads in my neighborhood. at least i wasn’t the only one who had no idea what was going on. i saw grooves and tire tracks all along the wet pavement on basically every road. some turns were completely blocked off but you couldn’t see that until you were at the turn. i had to get out of the neighborhood to the access road through the entrance. it was pretty lucky that no one was trying to get in. there’s a wall blocking off your view of the access road until you’re halfway onto it.

then i watched three whole episodes of soma which was reallllllllllly obnoxious with my headache. i jumped so hard at one of the scares that i pulled something in my knee. afterward i talked a little bit about philosophy and existence and stuff with asher. like... what would it be like if you met a digital copy of yourself. 

after that i took the dogs outside for a while, and watched mom and dad leave for the movies, and made myself some potatoes in the oven. they turned out really good! i even ate most of the meal. about three quarters. and i put away some of the ornaments that my brother and i had taken down from the kitchen shelves to clean. and i dusted, i forgot about that. i might have to dust the game room a lot more thoroughly, or try to convince mom to JUST THROW AWAY THE BARREL MONKEYS. JUST THROW THEM AWAY!!! I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE THE BARREL IS??? WE JUST HAVE TONS OF INTERLOCKING PLASTIC MONKEYS SCATTERED AROUND THE GAME ROOM AND THEY MAKE IT HARD TO CLEAR THE SHELVES BECAUSE THERE’S RANDOM JUNK THAT MAKES EVERYTHING TAKE FIVE TIMES LONGER TO GET OUT OF THE WAY. not to mention the plastic mountain that we used to play with my sister’s polly pockets on. it was a completely different color when i had finished dusting it. none of us has touched that thing in at LEAST ten years. mom keeps all our old toys like “oh maybe YOUR kids will want it someday!!!” and it’s like “mom this is a broken jagged piece of a lego.” all of the links have syrup on them from when my brother never washed his hands. we’re still clearing cheeto dust out of the gamecube controllers’ buttons... 

there’s so much random crap taking up space on the game bookcase. like “clue jr.” instead of digging through MY room and messing with MY stuff when i’m not home maybe mom could focus on cleaning the public areas of the house???

i’m still really angry that she went through all of my things while i was away. i keep my room devoid of anything incriminating of course anyway but being reminded that she really will just come in here and dig through my box of letters from grandma pearl or whatever was... frustrating. i don’t got “anything” to hide (that’s in my room at least), but that still doesn’t give you permission to just go through it any time you like. you don’t HAVE to know that i’ve used about half of my stationery and have a stash of stamps. you don’t HAVE to know that i kept the paper andrew hussie autographed and it’s in my closet. 

i am so glad that i go to great lengths to hide stuff like the queer superhero comic i bought. by keeping it on me at all times. or just keeping my room such a mess that it’s impossible to find anything. 

i do need to clean my room... i could do that tomorrow. i got eve to successfully use the stepping stool to get on the bed today. so i don’t really need to block off every other access point to the bed any more. and if she starts trying to jump up there again i can just move the bins back. there doesn’t need to be random stuff all over the floor too.

then i watched another episode of soma and here we are. i spent a while clicking through web sites aimlessly... sometimes you just want to look at pictures of gay space rocks ok? i’ve got two episodes of soma left.

self esteem. i guess the best way to approach having a better self esteem is to not overthink it? overthinking isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it can lead to a lot of uncertainty... it should be similar to the best approach to being “happy,” or at least, at ease. just... invest your attention in what you’re doing right now. crowd out the misery with a bunch of fun things that you want to be part of. 

that doesn’t cure depression of course, and there’s gonna be times where you’re just gonna be depressed (or not think highly of yourself), but it’s a good habit to get into anyway.

at this point... i think it’s important to figure out where the low self esteem is coming from, and what exactly it is i’ve been telling myself all these years. i need that information in order to change it. it’s gonna feel bad... but maybe it won’t come back unexpectedly any more.

still not really sure where to go from here. doing the writing exercise might help. i will try to get back on top of my pile of garbage tomorrow morning. i’m going to go to bed early tonight to try to give myself enough time to sleep for once. i haven’t been sleeping enough on top of not eating enough and it’s wearing me out really fast. i also need to call the group facility at like 12:30 to figure out what my next step will be. either i can go back that day, or i gotta wait longer. there’s not really any way to know until 12:30, so i will try not to worry about it until at least 12:00. 

another thing i can try tomorrow is, when i finish soma, to load up one of the tv shows i got a few episodes into and then stopped watching. i need to see something new. and i’ve got like a dozen tv shows in my bookmarks that i’ve wanted to get to but never had time/energy. may as well plow ahead now.

i feel like i should wrap up the post soon, but it’s only 11:40, which feels... too early. but i don’t really have anything else coherent to say. just a lot of feelings that i don’t know how to articulate right now.

maybe i should draw some fan art. maybe that would help me feel a little better and less bottled up. i don’t really have a lot of outlets with which to express my enthusiasm. most of the time i just feel like i’m going to explode.

i hope you are doing ok, and that you have a pleasant night. or at least... less unpleasant than usual, if that’s how it’s going right now.

[spearywritesstuff]

A Place Between Heaven and Earth: Excerpt

Dean found that the island had exactly nothing to do once the evening descended upon him. Crowley had waved at them both as he got out of the jeep in front of the Atwater Hotel. It was close to the beach and just a small ways from the bungalow that Dean would be staying in during however long the movie was being filmed. It was early February, so Dean had assumed that it would easily be done by May. According to his contract though, a contract that he didn’t get his brother to review, he could be here through the summer.

Roger had been kind. More than kind, he’d taken Dean in when his family couldn’t afford to have two kids underfoot. John Winchester worked to exhaustion. Sometimes though, it wasn’t enough. And when it wasn’t enough, Roger’s door was open.

And now Roger was about to be home from college after getting to it a little late in his life. He wanted to make the movie that he’d been talking about for years. He’d be successful too. Dean liked the story of a pair of brothers hunting monsters in middle America. If it was done right, the people would flock to it. Dean doubted that he could fix any of this. He hated himself just a little for the situation and tried to see a way toward solving the problem.

Instead of solving the problem though, he found one of the few businesses open on the island, a small bar, and drank perhaps more than he rightly should have. It was the family curse. When in doubt drink until you aren’t doubting anymore. He wasn’t sure what happened between drink five and on, but he was sure that he had felt a heap better in the moment.

He somehow managed to get back to his bed, and would have stayed in it all day if it weren’t for the pounding that was drawing him back to consciousness. Dean’s head felt like a throbbing mass of pain. It felt like someone was ramming a fist into his temple again and again. It took him a moment to open his eyes to the too bright room, a second or two more to realize that the pounding was actually a noise that was not in his head alone. He sat up and looked toward the front of his room. His door was closed, but the noise was coming from beyond that door. He’d likely kill whoever it was that was knocking on his front door if only he could get up the strength to move toward it. The knocking wasn’t stopping. Now there was a voice coupled with it. “Wake up, Mr. Winchester. You are due on set in two hours.”

Dean rubbed at his eyes. This isn’t right. He was supposed to have until Monday. By all accounts, he was certain that this was Sunday. No one does a thing on Sundays. At least that’s what he’d read about the island before he’d left the mainland. The voice repeated the call for waking up. Dean shook his head and threw his legs over the side of the mattress. The floor was cold and a little gritty. He padded his way to the bedroom door then out to the living room. He could actually see the front door moving with each knock.

“I’m coming.” Dean fumbled at the doorknob, got the lock undone, and opened the door.

The man in front of him was familiar. He seemed stunned and just stared at Dean a moment, hand falling back to his side. Thank God the knocking is done. “You’re not dressed.” The man’s eyes moved from his bare chest to his face and back again.

“Of course I’m not. You woke me up. It’s Sunday.” Dean stepped back into his room and intended to slip into his bed again. He had a hand on the door to close it in this guy’s face, but he was stopped by a palm to his shoulder.

“Mr. Winchester, we need to get going. Please get some clothes on so I can drive you to the site.” Dean turned back to face him. He looked earnest and a little desperate. His eyes were captivating. Dean shook his head again, and regretted the move. Maybe I’m still a little drunk.

“I need about four more hours of sleep. Can you give me that?” He rubbed a hand over his face a little. “It’s Cas right?” He was remembering now. This was the assistant that had been assigned to him. Shit, guy probably doesn’t know how all of this works.

“No.” The man stepped into the bungalow now and stood right in front of Dean. “I will not let you cost me this job. You know how hard it is to get work on this island, work that my dad would find acceptable? This is a lucky break for me. I thought, how hard could it be to haul an actor around, get him his groceries and such. Well, I underestimated the difficulty it seems. Now, I’m going to ask you again, to please get dressed, so I can get you to the filming site.”

Dean felt a measure of frustration. Who is this guy to think he can boss me around? “Hard pass buddy. I’m getting my beauty rest. Come back tomorrow.” He turned again to head for his room, dizzy and a little sick feeling.

He’d have been able to fight him off a little if he weren’t still drunk. As it was, Dean did not have the mental capacity to deal with what came next. Cas had grabbed him and carried him all the way out the door, before Dean even realized what was happening. He hefted Dean up at the edge of the two steps that would bring him down to the street. It was then that Dean started to struggle. “You will want to stop that. I’ll drop you, and you’ll be injured.”

“Put me down!” Dean said as they rounded the jeep. Cas put him down but didn’t release him. Somehow, he kept Dean locked into his grip even while opening the passenger side door. He somehow also managed to move Dean up into the seat and closed the door.

Dean was so confused he didn’t do much of anything except to stare at Cas through the window of the vehicle. Cas moved around to the driver’s side before Dean realized that he could get out, make a run for it. Cas was strong though. He’d likely just haul his sorry ass right on back. Dean wasn’t thinking right or he would have tried at least. His head was buzzing and angry. Cas started the jeep and they roared away from the curb. “You’re awful. I’m going to regret every minute of this job.” Cas stared straight ahead at the road as they drove.

“I don’t have clothes on.” Dean muttered. “Take me back.”

“You made the decision. Deal with the consequences.” They raced past a ballpark. Dean let his gaze linger on it as they passed.

“I’m not supposed to be on the site until Monday.” Dean was thinking about getting out of the jeep and running back to the bungalow. Cas never fully stopped at the corners though, and getting out of a moving vehicle in his current state seemed ill-advised. The road became rougher all of a sudden, and Cas whipped into a tight turn that pressed Dean into the door of the jeep.

“Sorry, didn’t want to slow down too much.”

“Why?”

“Pretty sure you’ll jump out if I stop.” Cas glanced at him now.

Dean stared daggers back at him. “What, you’re a mind reader now too?”

“You’re easy to read.” He let go of the steering wheel with one hand and waved at the door. “You got one hand curled around the handle there, like you’re just waiting for your opportunity.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re an asshole.” Dean turned his gaze back to the road in front of them. He was feeling sick. Every bump and bounce made him feel like he was going to lose whatever was still in his stomach, which wasn’t much. “You need to pull over.”

“Not gonna happen.” Cas drove faster.

“I’m not going to run. I’m going to vomit.” Cas glanced at him again. He must have seen something that made him believe him. He slammed on the brakes.

“Out.”

Dean didn’t wait even a second. He tossed open the door and practically fell out of the jeep. He felt his stomach heave painfully and gracelessly. It was over in an instant. Cas was standing behind him. Dean was somehow more irritated by that. This was the last thing that needed witnessing. “Get the hell away from me.” Cas stayed right where he was. Dean swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “You deaf?”

“Clearly, I am not deaf as I have heard everything that you’ve been saying. I’m also not going away, as I have a job to do.” He lowered himself down into a crouch next to Dean. “Get back in the jeep.”

Dean felt a little more clear headed now, and also, hated being bossed around. He lunged at Cas and knocked him onto his back. That should have been enough, but Cas was damn tough. He wrapped his arms around Dean and rolled him onto his back, then sat up straddling him in the dirt and exhaust. “Get off me.” Dean tried to get free of him. Cas grabbed his wrists and pushed them back to the ground over his head.

“You will get back in the car. If you do so, you will get a shirt to wear. Otherwise, I’ll drop you off with just the now filthy underwear that you are wearing. Do you understand?”

Dean continued to struggle. Cas seemed to be unaffected. Dean was not going to win this battle with brute strength alone. “Damn it.”

“That is not an answer.”

Dean glared at him a second or two more, then said, “Fine. Get off me, and I’ll get in the jeep. I need pants too.”

“Don’t have pants to give you. I’ve got a shirt in the back.” He got up and held out a hand to Dean. “Come on.” Dean took his hand and let himself be pulled up. He stumbled to the jeep and got in. Cas rounded it and got in the driver’s seat. He reached back into the space behind Dean’s seat and said, “Here.” He tossed a button up shirt into Dean’s lap. “I expect to get it back.”

“Yeah.” Dean put it on and frowned a little at the dirt that was covering him. He was a mess and the crisp white shirt was making it even more obvious. He was leaving dirty little fingerprints around each button. Cas started driving again. They were making their way up the mountain. Dean could see the film crew just up the road. They pulled up alongside the crew and the director came to his window.

“Deano, how’s it going?” Gabriel was a short man and full of mirth. He leaned into the space and looked Dean over. “Whoa, you forgot your pants.”

“There was a misunderstanding. You got a pair in wardrobe you can toss me?”

Gabriel looked over his shoulder at a kid that was passing by with a tray of food. “Bart, go to wardrobe and get some pants for Mr. Winchester. Be quick.” The kid looked terrified and ran off to do what he was told. “So, is there a story behind this?” He waved a hand over Dean’s frame.

Cas chose that moment to answer. “I rushed Mr. Winchester here as Mr. Crowley said that it was imperative that he arrive on time for every appointment. I believe that we have arrived two minutes early, which is a touch later than I’d like to be tomorrow.”

“I assume that my actors will be late. Dean here is actually the first to arrive. Thank you…” He waited for a name to finish the sentence. When Cas didn’t respond, he said, “I’m not remembering your name; sorry kid.”

“Cas, Cas Novak.” He glanced back at Dean then.

“Well, you’ve done well Mr. Novak. I’ll be sure to let Mr. Crowley know. The kid came back with pants and Gabriel took them. He looked them over then tossed them in through the window. Dean struggled to put them on in the cramped space. “Next time, you can take a few minutes to get dressed at home.” Gabriel smiled as he spoke. He took a step back from the window.

A moment later and Dean got out of the car, bare footed but otherwise clothed. “Thanks.” He adopted his professional tone and moved off toward the crew to await orders. He sent back a scowl at Cas as he walked away. Cas for his part, just smiled right on back like this was all somehow enjoyable. He even added a little wave and drove over to the far end of the set to park his jeep and wait.

Read the rest here.

[gunthersthompson]

Postmortem Character Assassination

It had been two days since I had dug the grave and left that throng of trees. As I drove, Collin came back to me in subtle ways. I saw him along the highways driving through Lubbock. Occasionally, I saw him standing by the signs, telling me how far I had left until the next city, but more often I heard him when the music started playing because he always controlled music in the car, even if he knew I hated it. His piercing eyes were running through the speakers. He would stare out of the window when he played something, always like there was some other, better place where he wanted to be. In those moments, he was so quiet that the air became sickness, every molecule tied to hardy misanthropy. I tried my best to see his self-destruction become a past problem. I don’t know if either of us knew that it was like we were riding in a hearse, unaccompanied but forced to acknowledge the fact that the reaper was ready.

The road was dead, the lines dead with it. The radio was hollow and robotic, so I switched it off.

The first town I came to after Lubbock was Roswell, just a few miles across the Texas border and the first introduction to the New Mexico landscape. Though it didn’t look different than the adjacent part of Texas (it had the same waving beige-green grass), it felt different.  People in Roswell have a claim to fame with an alien crash. Every time I had been there before I was just passing through with my parents, but in the car now was just silence and me. It wouldn’t be hard to accommodate aliens and I even thought about driving to the crash site just to see if there were any beams waiting to extract someone. In the moment, I knew that I was hungry and that, by my estimation, these were not people I could stay with long. But the Roswellians would do for the time being. I chose the first restaurant that I came to, parked over toward its side, closest to the building, and thoroughly swiveled my head to make sure They hadn’t caught up to me yet. My luck was still high.

“Do you serve beer?”

It caught the waitress off guard and she just stared back at me with a tilted catch of the teeth. She worked harder to get behind my eyes and see what kind of alien I was, sifting through a number of reasons.

“It’s only 11:30, hon. Are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t sure then I wouldn’t have asked you. Just give me the cheapest beer that you have.”

She nodded, took the rest of my order, and then brought me the coffee, water, and beer that I had ordered and planned to drink in a quick succession. Glancing towards the kitchen, I could see her whispering something into her coworker’s ear, stopping and cutting short when her eyes found me. A slow smile after. I noticed, after burning my tongue on the coffee, that a lone paper was hanging lazily on the precipice of the booth-seat. There was a big coffee stain washing over the front page, but I could still make out Dallas Morning News toward the top. There was a mention of Collin as “Texas 20 year-old Found Dead and Buried in the Woods” on the third page but nothing about me anywhere. The feds were hiding something. They just didn’t want to tell the public. I was sure I was still in need of escape.

 The waitress had put me in the front corner of the place, which I liked, and had left me alone long enough to doubt myself and shred the paper before stuffing it carefully into my pockets. She didn’t notice my hands or ask me about the paper, but instead asked if I wanted food and continued to smile while I stared back.

“Can I get you anything to eat? We got a chicken fried steak on special today, mashed potatoes and green beans on the side. In my opinion, it’s the best thing on the menu.”

“I’ll just have scrambled eggs. I don’t eat red meat.”

Her smile appeared again, more plastic this time, and she scooped up the menu I hadn’t looked at, “You might be in the wrong part of the country then, hon.” I watched her look over her shoulder twice; I could have sworn that she winked when she said that last bit but couldn’t be sure. She was working with the feds.

I went back to quietly sipping the coffee, water, and beer, all three tasting equally bitter on the tongue. Collin hated coffee. He loved red meat.

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

We were behind a diner, some little place in Lubbock with a combination of SUVs and massive trucks in the parking lot, waiting on a dealer who had flaked twice that day. Collin was tapping his feet and I, not wanting to start something, glanced over to get him to stop. His eyes were focused and contracted, like the eagle closing his wings to chest in a steep dive towards the water. He was an eagle. He continued to tap his feet and I gave up. A car cloaked in a scratchy, dingy kind of grey pulled up, handed off a bag, and then twenty minutes later we were on the couch, chopping up rocky particulate into powder, preparing said powder into an infantry of lines. Spartan hoplites in proper phalanx form.

“Hand me that twenty-dollar bill; I don’t want to use a five.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to argue with you, I’ve waited all day for this coke and I don’t want to fucking argue.”

I handed him the twenty and, like an illusion, the lines vanished. He fell back to the couch, smiling for the first time in something like forty hours and sniffing harder every few seconds. We just looked at each other for a little bit, breaking silence with a stronger silence and bridging gaps with cocaine. He frowned, “Why do you look so scared?”

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

The sky was fine and the wind mild as I stepped out of the little cafe and onto the gravel of the parking lot. I thought I saw an eagle though the two little girls standing on either side of their grandpa shouted about flying saucers. He laughed, explained that God made humans, and only humans. They seemed to take him at his word.

There was still purpose in my stride, and, as I patted myself down to find my cigarettes and the ever-elusive lighter, I began to formulate the next stage of my flight from the law. I considered a fast break towards Colorado and the mountains as well as a beeline to the coast and Californian sun. But, like it was fated, a car cloaked in a familiar scratched gray went past at a relatively low speed for being on an empty road. I was adamant, to myself, that it was the same car I had met with Collin: the same peddler’s car who had sold him the fatal bag and forced me to say goodbye to a man.

My car was quicker than his and he didn’t seem to notice that I was following him, even as I hit a few of the same exits and pulled the same routine of changing speed. He didn’t drive like a drug dealer. New Mexico’s slack speed limits helped, and, within only half an hour, I was in a hot pursuit, hopefully towards vengeance. Collin’s voice tramping around my head telling me “Do it, do it. Kill the fucker because he killed me.” I agreed and stepped harder on the gas, coming within the normal buffer zone of about two feet behind the guy. Suddenly, I broke and swerved as his tire popped, the black shreds throwing back like fingers and hands outstretched from a grave. Most of them missed, but one of the biggest ones had smashed one of my headlights. The commotion threw the burning cigarette down to the floor, next to the pedals; It slowly burned the plastic piece in front of them.

­­­--------------------

Collin was never one to hide himself or his problem. I saw it on a daily basis. Every time he was driving, his eyes narrowed, and, like he took it as a challenge, he sped up to meet another car, lingered long enough for me to clumsily reach for the wheel, and then proceeded to take a bump as they looked at him like a hyena. He was a hyena in the car. A laughing poacher with contempt for those staying inside of their own bounds.

“Good god, do you see that guy? He was trying to lecture me through the glass.”

I met eyes with the man. An older guy that didn’t look angry. His brows were crunched and descended, eyes pleading even in the glare between us. He looked, to me, like he was concerned. Collin lapped at the window and threw as much of his bag that he could manage up onto it, then slobbering globs of cocaine with gusto. He was a spectacle and he was central to the experience. The car was the rest of his pack, and, with it, he was spreading across the Texas savannah.

The old man broke, fleeing a scene apparently. He must have seen the two tires rolling towards us looking Machiavellian. He must have anticipated the fact that there was something very tense about the air at that moment. The left tire clipped the front headlight and left it only slightly fractured with a bulb still functioning. The right hit dead on with the steering column, denting the hood like a crater. Six inches of the black rubber had broken the shield wall of the glass; Collin’s nose was broken, but only slightly.

“Goddamnit. I paid forty fucking dollars for a broken nose.”

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

Parked and breathing as steadily as I could manage, I watched through the rear view mirror as an older woman, probably 50 or so, slumped in awe near the back tire. Had I chased some kind of ghost simply because a dead man demanded it of me? Maybe the drugs weren’t only his problem but mine too. Maybe it was possible for a thought-osmosis to occur in which I started to imbibe the paranoia and frantic neediness. I ran my hands over my face a few times before I decided to continue on the current route, even though I had little to no idea where it would take me or if there was a gas station within a few miles. My sureness was split. My hands were shaking. I was in desperate need of the Sunday paper.

As it turns out, I was on my way back to Texas. The closer I felt to Collin (moment by moment and foot by foot), the closer I was to some kind of absolution. His voice started as I passed the same cafe from earlier, growing virulently until he seemed to materialize in the passenger seat, his phone and notebook clutched under a white knuckle grip.

“So it wasn’t him, big deal.”

“Easy for you to say. You get to be dead and I have to deal with it.”

“Not my choice, friend. Don’t you want to just leave all this shit though? We always wanted to drive to the coast and live there. I feel like you might be limiting yourself because of your dead friend.”

If I cried would that make me crazy? I thought of crying but couldn’t picture it with the road taking up most of my view. Growing bigger as I came toward it, there was a sign detailing the friendliness of New Mexico. According to it, New Mexico was the Land of Enchantment, though I couldn’t feel anything all that enchanting about such a place. I didn’t need enchanting but did need bigger. Everything is bigger in Texas. That’s what the litany of signs and mottos say. The headlines are bigger.

“We both know that you didn’t kill me, bud.”

Only miles from the next town, which was Texline on the New Mexico-Texas border, I was finally relieved of my friend’s ghost and comfortable that the passenger’s seat was empty. I could breathe easy again. I probably wasn’t crazy.

The welcome sign for Texas finally popped up.

As soon as I got to the first diner on the outskirts of town, my hands trembled. I needed another drink if I was to keep myself going because, despite how tired I was, I hadn’t slept in somewhere over 35 hours. There’s a certain fear the grips you after that much time. It’s a tigress who doesn’t want to mate, yet can’t say no. It’s a blank stare that, instead of being snapped back to focus, continues ad infinitum.

I walked into the place and the waitress bubbled at me with a very similar demeanor to that of the lunchtime waitress. Different state but the same calculated smile. I tried to smile back, but she forced me to frown.

“Just y’all?”

Had she just addressed me like there were two of us standing there? I looked around which confused her, and then sort of backed away for fear that it was some kind of trap or sting set by the police.

“Did you just say y’all?”

“No, hon. I asked if it was just you and then you went all loopy on me.”

“Oh, okay,” I told her that I was embarrassed. I wasn’t. I wasn’t convinced in the slightest that she didn’t say y’all. “Can I have that table over there, in the corner?”

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

“Just y’all?”

           “Just us”

           Collin responded to the waitress and smirked, receiving one back in the process. He asked for the corner booth and she led us there, a slight hesitation in her arms as she laid out the menus. She looked back to Collin.

           “Let me know when you’re ready.”

           She walked away in triumph and Collin made sure to lean back and spread his arms over the whole booth. He was confident in the corner and never had an edge when we sat there. The diner where we found ourselves was dimly lit, like most Texas diners, and smelled like fried food. We sat there and stared at our menus for a few minutes before he even said anything else. He never looked at a menu that long. As I followed his eyes, I could see there was something hindering his vision. He blinked too much and grew a confused unfunny smirk on his face.

           We finished eating, left the place, and then made the choice to keep driving even though it was completely dark outside. I was standing against my door with a cigarette burning and feeling full and complete. Collin was rifling through the glovebox hoping to find the bag that he had stashed when we thought the cops were onto us. Finding it, he poked his head up and swiveled around to look for cops. Something was worrying him because he didn’t take any from the bag and he kept talking to himself. He never talked to himself.

           “Let’s go out to that cabin, Lee said he would meet me there and I don’t feel like going home anyway.”

           “I know, we already agreed we would keep going. Are you okay? Seems like you turned manic all of a sudden.”

           He snapped in defense and snarled as he replied, “I am FINE. Do you have to ask every five hundred feet? I told you before we got here that I was fine, and I’m telling you again. I’m fine. Please just get in the car so we can go, I think I saw some suits watching us before we went in.”

           I hopped into the passenger’s seat and made sure to check for the suits. There weren’t any cars in the lot except for a beat up Ford truck and a red Pontiac Sunfire that seemed to have only recently been pulled from the mud. There weren’t any other cars or people, and I began to feel like we were heading towards something weird. The car started fine, but began to chug a bit as it sat near idling, like it had run out of willpower or energy. There was a smooth quality to the blackness that took over the whole window and, as I rolled it down, nothing but silence to be heard from any direction.

           “Isn’t this where junkies go to kill themselves?”

           “No, not all of them.”

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

           The waitress brought me a water and a coffee, but sort of scoffed when I asked about beer, saying that they only had Lone Star and Coors Light. She backed away from me when I almost snapped; I was clearly shaking in the hands. I slumped into the corner and threw my hands over each side of the thing, feeling like I was very close to something. There was a newspaper on the table that I didn’t notice when I sat down and this time it was out of Austin. The front page was clean of coffee but spread fear through me as I looked at the smiling portrait of Collin’s face. This was not a real picture of him. No mention of a killer anywhere. The feds had seized this one too. I could not help but think there was a massive conspiracy at play and I was at the center of its web. The beer could not come fast enough. Over and over again I scribble notes in the margins decrying the agencies and the government, and slowly my scrawl began to look more posed.

“You always did have some killer handwriting, chief.”

He was back and seemed bigger than when he was junkie-slumped in the passenger seat, also looking happier without the black pillows underneath his eyes.

“Do you think they will try to say I did it? You put it up your nose, so I don’t really feel like taking the fall for that one. I’m not a goddamn killer, Collin.”

“’Course not. Believe me, I am fully aware of the fact that I made my own bed. I don’t even think they would have half a mind to question you, honestly.”

“Either way, they’re coming. Do you see that white SUV out there?”

He paused and calmly searched the lot before seeing what I had seen. His head came back down and his neck stiffened.

“I see it.”

“They’re already here.”

The waitress peered over the counter, craning her neck when she heard buzzwords like ‘killer’, small town intrigue and gossip painted over her. She saw that I was seemingly talking to myself and made her way to what I assumed would be the phone around the corner. Collin and I made her when she walked back there, waddling like she was fleeing from something, and my blood started to course faster, my vision bored down into a tunnel. The feds were here and she had to tell them. She was a rat; I was marked and done.

“You better get her before she gets to the phone.”

I made a run for the back of the place, tripping slightly over myself but steadying and running firm through the back hallway, confused when I finally reached its end and not seeing a phone or the waitress at all. To my left there was an office. Somebody was humming inside. Papers were shuffling and I could hear the click of a phone. It sounded like an old phone, the kind that nobody had anymore. When I kicked in the door, the waitress from before trembled and shouted at me once before I could slam it shut. She wasn’t alone. I saw the man at the computer that wasn’t apparent when I first bust through. He didn’t look scared. He matched my eyes.

“I don’t know what you just told him, but I can’t let you call the police. I didn’t do anything; I didn’t kill him; He killed himself and I ran, which I shouldn’t have, but I did.” I flicked a switchblade off my belt, felt my hands shaking badly, and waved it at them like a cornered animal.

The old man spoke first: “Son, I don’t think you know what you’re doing. You’re from Texas, aren’t you?”

“Born and raised.”

“Then you know that, like most of us here in Texas, I have a Desert Eagle strapped to my side here,” he motioned toward the hulking thing on his belt, “and I am in no way afraid to use it if I have to. Please just put that thing down, boy.” I could tell that I was done. I was a turkey in the oven now. Everything about the room started to come back into vision and I wasn’t looking down a tunnel; I was staring at two people who had the means to end me.

“I’ll put it down when I know you aren’t going to try and put me in jail for something I didn’t do!”

Collin rested himself with both palms flat on the desk and started to take an overview of the situation. He shook his head at me and started laughing, cackling. He was every bit as alive as I was.

“You aren’t going to let this redneck shoot you, are you? Holy fuck, you are an idiot. Is this how you want to die? I guess it might be better than going with the two suits in the parking lot.”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! You are why I’m here!”

“This just makes you look crazier you know.”

“Son, this is the last time I’m gonna ask you. Put it down or I’m going to shoot you dead.”

I had almost forgotten where I was and, in my own blindness, didn’t see that the man had pulled the hammer of the gun back to its ready position. My nose picked up the hint of chicken fried steak and my brain began to run through some kind of checklist. Collin, my life, every single shitty thing I had done. Hundreds of bags of blow. Two beers in two diners, one with and one without Collin. Chasing an old woman like a raging devil down the New Mexico highway.

I almost dragged my hand to my side and capitulated but hit a wall when, again, I saw Collin perched over the man’s holster-side. He was sullen now and didn’t seem to have much hope in the awkward frown that held his face together. Above the frown, he raised a key to his nose and then fell back, dragging cords and family pictures away from the desk as his body slumped in finality to the floor. My opponent’s eyes hadn’t moved and his wrinkled forehead grew lower and lower, getting ready for a quick movement. He was poised. I was shaking and faltering, my vision going in and out while Collin flashed dim and then bright at the far corners of my mind. I focused on the man’s face and (against my own will) forced the knife into my pocket without ever breaking eye-contact or a sweat.

“Please. Please just fucking shoot me.”

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

I don’t have any way to order chicken fried steak anymore. The doctors in this place are supposed to be really good, though I don’t know what that means. I’m locked away in the back hallway of the place, as far away from the kitchen as I could be. They let me write in my journal every day between noon and one but can’t seem to corroborate my side of the story when I have to meet with the doctors.

           They always tell me that most of that didn’t happen. Collin had been dead for a time before that, so it couldn’t have happened that way. Essentially they’re accusing me of writing fiction, which I still think is ridiculous. Do they always tell the insane that they are just making it up?

Sure felt real to me.

[johnchiarello]

Thursday

THURSDAY

Isaiah 13:2 Lift ye up a banner upon the high mountain, exalt the voice unto them, shake the hand, that they may go into the gates of the nobles.

Motorcycle crash-

https://youtu.be/UQ8v1U0jp2U

http://wp.me/a4V5qQ-EI

Acts 14:2

But the unbelieving Jews stirred up the Gentiles, and made their minds evil affected against the brethren.

 Trumps history on race-

https://youtu.be/EQHJqrc8qGY

https://ccoutreach87.com/8-17-17-turmps-history-on-race/

Micah 6:9

The Lord's voice crieth unto the city, and the man of wisdom shall see thy name: hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it.

 Good view-

https://youtu.be/DaKTKnKBYms

https://ccoutreach87.com/8-17-17-good-view/

Genesis 1:2

And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

 Rockport criminal cop backed by Mayor and Police force-

https://youtu.be/4NLzLBbiMm8

https://ccoutreach87.com/8-17-17-rockport-cop-mayor-and-police-chief-defend-the-criminal-cop/

  NEWS LINKS- [Verses below]

http://www.kztv10.com/story/36154278/aransas-county-da-dont-accept-cases-from-rockport-police-department

http://www.kiiitv.com/news/local/ccpd-motorcycle-officer-involved-in-accident-on-spid/464870913

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karl_Marx

http://www.nationalreview.com/article/450498/domestic-terror-threats-media-mislead-alt-right-leftists-anti-cop-jihadists

http://www.inquisitr.com/3364881/is-donald-trump-actually-racist-or-does-the-media-just-paint-him-that-way/

http://www.timesgazette.com/opinion/10253/hillarys-health-trumps-racism

http://www.cnn.com/2017/08/17/europe/barcelona-spain-van-latest/index.html

http://www.foxnews.com/world/2017/08/17/injuries-reported-after-vehicle-hits-people-in-barcelona-plaza.html

 NOTES-

The big news today was the terrorist vehicle killing in Barcelona- as of now I haven’t done a video talking about that one. If I do- it will be on here when I post. I added some news links above on it- and if you simply look at the front page of the various news sites- it obviously is huge world news- TERROR! TERROR STRIKES!

 Now- what would the news be if someone in a car accidentally drove into a crowd- and killed 13 people?

You would have heard about it- but that would be it.

 Yet on talk radio- on all the news outlets- this story will be huge for days.

The market lost a ton of money today- down about 270 points.

 I actually tried to google ‘how much money did the market lose- today’. No results.

Then I added today’s date- still nothing.

Hmm?

 I’m sure I could find it straight from a financial site- but figured the financial world does not want the public to know- that millions/billions of your dollars can be lost- if one affiliated terrorist simply kills people with his car.

 In a way- we- the media- have empowered radical groups to control the world financial markets- by simply killing people with a car- which is quite an easy thing to do.

 We have shown them- that if they do it- it will rock the world for days.

They no longer need planes flown into buildings- or bombs snuck into a airport.

 No- all they have to do- is drive a van into a crowd of people- and it will shake the world.

Something- isn’t it?

 Yes- lets all pray for the families of the victims- lets also pray for the many Africans- kids as well- who die on a daily basis by groups like this.

 Or those who are dying as migrants trying to escape civil wars in their own countries.

Or those in Venezuela who are on the brink of collapse as I write.

 Yes- pray for all the families of victims all over the world- the many that never even make it into the fine print of the paper.

 Yes- remember them too on this day- while the world media will be doing non stop coverage of the Innocent victims who died in Barcelona on this tragic day.

 And sad to say- because of this coverage- you can be sure it will happen again.

TRUMP- Though not a ‘Trump supporter’ [I did not vote for him] I have found it sad to see so many in the nation think he is one of the worst racists- ever.

I have told some of these people that as a political observer- Trump is much more ‘liberal’ than many establishment Republicans. I have tried to explain to them that Trump is viewed as more of a north eastern Republican than what some deem ‘the good old southern boys’ [to many- the southern Republicans are seen as racist].

So- I find it sad that the main stream media simply ignores their past track record on Trump. The media themselves have seen Trump as a ‘non-racist’ person in the past. I add the section below just so you could read Trumps past record with the media themselves.

Despite current accusations to the contrary, President Trump has an over 30 year record of rejecting racism.

1986: Trump, Rosa Parks, Muhammad Ali Receive ‘Ellis Island’ Award

As the New York Times reported on October 16, 1986:

Eighty Americans from 42 ethnic groups were named yesterday as recipients of the Ellis Island Medal of Honor by the Statue of Liberty-Ellis Island Foundation.

The medals will be presented to the recipients, all either naturalized or native Americans, at a ceremony Oct. 27 on Ellis Island. That is the day before the 100th anniversary of the dedication of the Statue of Liberty, the final event of the 1986 Liberty Centennial observances.

The National Ethnic Coalition of Organizations presents the awards based on “integrity, passion, gravitas, humanitarian and ethnic heritage.”

If Trump’s a racist, why would he accept an award alongside civil rights pioneer Rosa Parks?

1991: Trump “Hates Seeing” What David Duke Surging in Politics Represents

In an interview on Larry King Live on November 19, 1991, Trump said he “hated seeing” what the strong political support of white nationalist David Duke meant in Louisiana, which was suffering a deep depression at the time.

KING: Did the David Duke thing bother you? Fifty-five percent of the whites in Louisiana voted for him.

Mr. TRUMP: I hate –

KING: Four hundred New Yorkers contributed.

Mr. TRUMP: I hate seeing what it represents, but I guess it just shows there’s a lot of hostility in this country. There’s a tremendous amount of hostility in the United States.

KING: Anger?

Mr. TRUMP: It’s anger. I mean, that’s an anger vote. People are angry about what’s happened. People are angry about the jobs. If you look at Louisiana, they’re really in deep trouble. When you talk about the East Coast – It’s not the East Coast. It’s the East Coast, the middle coast, the West Coast –

KING: If he runs and Pat Buchanan runs, might you see a really divided vote?

Mr. TRUMP: Well, I think if they run, or even if David Duke- I mean, George Bush was very, very strong against David Duke. I think if he had it to do again, he might not have gotten involved in that campaign because I think David Duke now, if he runs, takes away almost exclusively Bush votes and then a guy like Cuomo runs- I think Cuomo can win the election.

KING: But Bush morally had to come out against him.

Mr. TRUMP: I think Bush had to come out against him. I think Bush- If David Duke runs, David Duke is going to get a lot of votes. Whether that be good or bad, David Duke is going to get a lot of votes. Pat Buchanan – who really has many of the same theories, except it’s in a better package – Pat Buchanan is going to take a lot of votes away from George Bush. So if you have these two guys running, or even one of them running, I think George Bush could be in big trouble.

A Feb. 16, 1989, article from the New York Times explained more:

With a runoff election set for Saturday to fill a seat in the state House of Representatives, David Duke, the 38-year old former grand wizard of the sKnights of the Ku Klux Klan, and John Treen, a 63-year-old long active in the Republican Party, are both predicting victory.

[…]

On the surface, the race in this New Orleans suburb may look like a throwback to an uglier era of racial politics in the South. In fact, almost everything is strikingly contemporary about Mr. Duke – from his ease in front of the television cameras, to his blend of carefully couched racial issues and antitax fervor, to the deep-seated frustrations he is tapping amid Louisiana’s depressed economy.

If some of his support reflects blatant racism, much of it comes from working people convinced that politics as usual has failed to serve the white working class.

It’s ironic how the New York Times was more fair to David Duke than Trump was.

1997: Anti-Defamation League Praises Trump

On April 30, 1997, the Wall Street Journal reported on Trump’s purchase of the famous Mar-a-Largo club in Palm Beach, Florida, and how he opened up the club to Jews and African-Americans, putting him at odds against rival clubs in Palm Beach:

The culture clash began to approach a climax last fall, when Mr. Trump’s lawyer sent members of the town council a copy of the film “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner,” a film that deals with upper-class racism.

Mr. Trump then approached the town council about lifting the restrictions that had been placed on the club. He also asked some council members not to vote on the request because their membership in other clubs created a conflict of interest.

Last December, after the council refused to lift the restrictions, Mr. Trump filed a lawsuit in U.S. District Court in Palm Beach, alleging that the town was discriminating against Mar-a-Lago, in part because it is open to Jews and African-Americans. The suit seeks $100 million in damages.

The former head of the ADL, Abraham Foxman, showered Trump with praise, as the WSJ reported:

Mr. Foxman seems pleased that Mr. Trump has elevated the issue of discriminatory policies at social clubs.

“He put the light on Palm Beach,” Mr. Foxman says. “Not on the beauty and the glitter, but on its seamier side of discrimination. It has an impact.”

In recent weeks, Mr. Foxman says, the league has received calls from Jewish residents telling of how Palm Beach clubs are changing.

2000: Trump Calls David Duke “a Bigot, a Racist and a Problem”

During a NBC interview aired on Feb. 14, 2000, Trump blasted Duke when explaining why he was leaving the Reform Party:

MATT LAUER: When you say the Party is self-destructing, what do you see as the biggest problem with the Reform Party right now?

Mr. TRUMP: Well, you’ve got David Duke just joined–a bigot, a racist, a problem. I mean, this is not exactly the people you want in your party. Buchanan’s a disaster as we’ve, you know, covered. Jesse’s a terrific guy who just left the Party. And he, you know, it’s unfortunate, but he just left the Party. He’s going to be doing his Independence Party from Minnesota. And he’s a terrific guy and a terrific governor, and he’s got a great future. And I’ve always said, Matt, that I would run if I thought I could win, and in order to win…

LAUER: Not only the nomination, but the presidency.

Mr. TRUMP: …the whole thing. I don’t want to get 20 percent of the vote, I think I could, and I know I could get the nomination. New York wants me. Texas wants me. Many of the states want me. And they’re, you know, they’re rather devastated because they don’t like the alternatives. I always said, and I said to you if you can win the whole thing, you can only win the whole thing with a totally unified party.

2008: Trump Helps African-American Jennifer Hudson After Her Family is Murdered

Jennifer Hudson, a singer who rose to prominence after an an appearance on American Idol, suffered an immense tragedy when three of her family members were murdered.

In the aftermath, Trump offered to put up up at the Trump International Hotel & Tower in Chicago free of charge, as reported by NBC:

“They are safe,” Trump told People on Monday night. “She’s a great girl and we’re protecting them well.”

According to E! Online, Hudson has been staying at the hotel since arriving in Chicago on October 24 – the day her mother, Darnell Donerson, and brother, Jason Hudson, were found murdered, and her nephew, Julian King, was found missing.

Since checking into the hotel, the Oscar winner and former “American Idol” star has rarely left the hotel.

“She is still in shock,” a source told E!. “She hasn’t gone out much at all and has a lot of security around her.”

2015: Trump Doesn’t Want Duke’s Support

About two months into Trump’s campaign for the White House, he publicly said he didn’t want Duke’s support.

According to CBS:

Trump was asked Wednesday about Duke’s praise, and he distanced himself from the white supremacist.

“I don’t need his endorsement; I certainly wouldn’t want his endorsement,” Trump said during an interview with Bloomberg News on Wednesday. “I don’t need anyone’s endorsement.”

When he was asked whether he would flat-out reject Duke’s support, Trump replied, “Sure, I would if that would make you feel better.”

He wasn’t surprised by Duke’s kind words, however.

“A lot of people like me,” Trump explained. “Republicans like me, liberals like me. Everybody likes me.”

2016: Trump Disavows Racist Elements of so-called “Alt-Right”

Not long after winning the presidency, Trump disavowed the racist elements of what the mainstream media termed the “alt-right.”

From CNN on Nov. 23, 2016:

“I don’t want to energize the group, and I disavow the group,” Trump told a group of New York Times reporters and columnists during a meeting at the newspaper’s headquarters in New York.

“It’s not a group I want to energize, and if they are energized, I want to look into it and find out why,” he added, according to one of the Times reporters in the room, Michael Grynbaum.

There you go, an exhaustive list of how President Trump has disavowed racism over three decades, as documented by contemporary mainstream media outlets.

Ironically, establishment “fact checking” sites, ran by opinion journalists larping as objective reporters, have tried to downplay  the examples above, but all they’ve done is ruin their own credibility.

“…Most ‘fact-checkers’ are merely liberal journalists looking to prove their preconceived narrative,” wrote the Washington Times’ Kelly Riddell. “They cherry-pick the statements to ‘fact-check’ and then decide which data to back it up with.”

“Statistics can be manipulated — for every study coming out of the Brookings Institute, the Heritage Foundation can have a counter argument, depending on the methodology and surveys used. Moreover, much of what they decide to ‘fact-check’ is subjective at best… nothing that can be pinned down with undisputed data.”

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RealKitDaniels

 VERSES-

Isaiah 13:1 The burden of Babylon, which Isaiah the son of Amoz did see.

Isaiah 13:2 Lift ye up a banner upon the high mountain, exalt the voice unto them, shake the hand, that they may go into the gates of the nobles.

Isaiah 13:3 I have commanded my sanctified ones, I have also called my mighty ones for mine anger, even them that rejoice in my highness.

Isaiah 13:4 The noise of a multitude in the mountains, like as of a great people; a tumultuous noise of the kingdoms of nations gathered together: the LORD of hosts mustereth the host of the battle.

Isaiah 13:5 They come from a far country, from the end of heaven, even the LORD, and the weapons of his indignation, to destroy the whole land.

Isaiah 13:6 Howl ye; for the day of the LORD is at hand; it shall come as a destruction from the Almighty.

Isaiah 13:7 Therefore shall all hands be faint, and every man's heart shall melt:

Isaiah 13:8 And they shall be afraid: pangs and sorrows shall take hold of them; they shall be in pain as a woman that travaileth: they shall be amazed one at another; their faces shall be as flames.

Isaiah 13:9 Behold, the day of the LORD cometh, cruel both with wrath and fierce anger, to lay the land desolate: and he shall destroy the sinners thereof out of it.

Isaiah 13:10 For the stars of heaven and the constellations thereof shall not give their light: the sun shall be darkened in his going forth, and the moon shall not cause her light to shine.

Isaiah 13:11 And I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked for their iniquity; and I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible.

Isaiah 13:12 I will make a man more precious than fine gold; even a man than the golden wedge of Ophir.

Isaiah 13:13 Therefore I will shake the heavens, and the earth shall remove out of her place, in the wrath of the LORD of hosts, and in the day of his fierce anger.

Isaiah 13:14 And it shall be as the chased roe, and as a sheep that no man taketh up: they shall every man turn to his own people, and flee every one into his own land.

Isaiah 13:15 Every one that is found shall be thrust through; and every one that is joined unto them shall fall by the sword.

Isaiah 13:16 Their children also shall be dashed to pieces before their eyes; their houses shall be spoiled, and their wives ravished.

Isaiah 13:17 Behold, I will stir up the Medes against them, which shall not regard silver; and as for gold, they shall not delight in it.

Isaiah 13:18 Their bows also shall dash the young men to pieces; and they shall have no pity on the fruit of the womb; their eyes shall not spare children.

Isaiah 13:19 And Babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chaldees' excellency, shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah.

Isaiah 13:20 It shall never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation: neither shall the Arabian pitch tent there; neither shall the shepherds make their fold there.

Isaiah 13:21 But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there.

Isaiah 13:22 And the wild beasts of the islands shall cry in their desolate houses, and dragons in their pleasant palaces: and her time is near to come, and her days shall not be prolonged.

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