#and using 'when i woke up i had become a girl disease' as a 'sign' of his transfemininity when its p clearly the foundation/precursor to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

httpjeon · 5 years

Text

lovebug — jimin (m.)

jimin/reader | angst, fluff, smut | hybrid!au

wordcount: 12k

contents: spider hybrid!jimin, hybrid mistreatment/bullying, love self esteem/self-worth, arguments, crying, physical altercation between jimin & reader, name-calling, attachment anxiety, possessiveness, kissing, scenting, dom!jimin, manhandling, size kink/difference, fingering, dirty talk, cunnilingus, sensitivity kink, wet & messy, lots of cum, cumflation, jimins duality

— synopsis: hybrids are lovable companions for humans. unfortunately, most people simply want a cat or dog with which they can cuddle and love on. while looking for one to adopt, a lonesome hybrid of an unusual breed catches your eye.

note: part of the unadoptable series; masterlist will be coming soon!

blog masterlist

Deciding to get a hybrid is a big responsibility. They require abundant care and love — having been genetically modified as an attempt at a 'super species' when the human race was close to dying out as an attempt to preserve the DNA of humanity.

Now, however, through years of evolution, they have simply become a daily part of life as companions for humans.

After moving out of your college dorm and into a new apartment, you found yourself extremely lonely. So, you decided that perhaps you could look into getting a hybrid. You saved as much money as you could — hybrids were expensive after all.

"Are you sure you want to get one from the shelter?" your friend, Minah, asked as you walked with her on the bustling streets of Seoul, "I mean, a couple more months of saving and you could find a hybrid breeder—"

"I don't really care about that," you waved her off, "I'm not looking to get the best hybrid out there. I just want someone to keep me company."

"Still...a shelter...you don't know where these hybrids have been," she cringed, opening the door which made the bell above it ring to indicate the store there were customers, "They could have diseases or be aggressive."

"I assure you, all our hybrids are tested for diseases and aggressive ones are rehabilitated to become suitable companions," a lady wearing a uniform smiled, hands clasped behind her back. Her name tag read 'Nayeon', "Can I help you with something?"

"I'm looking to get a hybrid," you said sheepishly, heart pounding in excitement as she grinned.

"Excellent! Do you have a type in mind? We have an excellent selection of feline and canine hybrids," she looked at you expectantly as you thought it over.

"I...didn't really think about it," you shrugged, "I just figured I'd look and see if any caught my eye, you know?"

"I understand," Nayeon nodded, seemingly unbothered by your indecisiveness, "Well, you can go through those doors and have a look at the hybrids available."

"Thanks," you smiled, tugging Minah's hand until she began to follow you.

Once you pushed the doors open, you were met with a long hallway that seemed to divert left and right. The floors were white linoleum and the fluorescent lights made the white walls seem glaringly bright. The walls were lined with large viewing windows that allowed you to peer into each hybrid's room.

As you walked, you could see the cat hybrid sleeping and dog hybrids busying themselves energetically. You reached the end of the hallway and paused, looking both ways to decide where to go.

"It looks like it's mostly empty down here," Minah said as she walked a couple of feet into the left hallway.

"Then we'll go right," you smiled, taking a look in the windows. It seemed they were mostly rabbit, rodent, and reptile hybrids in this section.

You were just beginning to give up when something caught your eye — a quick flash of purple. Pausing, you backed up a couple steps to look in once again.

"Whoa...creepy..." Minah squinted into the room that was seemingly covered in webbing with a purple haired hybrid sitting with his back to you.

He didn't have any hybrid ears or a tail and he looked strikingly like a human. Minah picked up the clipboard that held the information on the hybrid inside.

"Spider hybrid?" Minah cringed and made a sound of disgust, "Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

"I haven't, no..." you tore your eyes from his vibrant purple hair to look at the clipboard. "He's 24...no specific breed."

"Don't you think the concept of having a hybrid that'd older than you...strange?" Minah asked thoughtfully, "I think I'd have to get one that’s younger than me...the power balance seems weird otherwise."

"I haven't really thought about it..." you mumbled as you looked around his room.

There was no bed, instead there was a concentration of webbing in one corner that you assumed he probably used for a bed. You could see that he was messing with something in his hands but since his back was to you, you couldn't make out what exactly it was.

"Do you have your eye on anything—" Nayeon approached the two of you and paused. "I see you've found Jimin."

"Yeah, what the hell is up with him?" Minah asked, tapping on the glass. The hybrid inside showed no signs of caring. "I didn't even know spider hybrids existed."

"Ah yes...Jimin is quite special. It's very rare to have insect hybrids," Nayeon said.

"Spiders aren't insects," you said suddenly, taking the clipboard from Minah's hands, "They're arachnids."

"Same thing," Minah mumbled, "Quit looking at him."

"There isn't much information on him," you said, looking to Nayeon as Minah scoffed at you ignoring her.

"Oh um...Jimin is..." Nayeon shifted on her feet, "Well, he's a spider...not many people want a spider hybrid. They'd prefer one they can hold and hug and show affection to. Also...he makes webs and it’s such a huge mess...just not a very house-friendly pet, you know? Most people are creeped out by him."

"Me included," Minah mumbled, side-eyeing Jimin inside his room as Nayeon nodded in agreement.

"I can't go in there...he gives me the creeps. None of the staff really go in there and to be honest he's not very social," Nayeon explained. "Jimin, can you say hi?"

"He can hear us?" you asked, eyes widening as she nodded. You were shocked to hear her speak meanly of the hybrid when he could hear her words.

"See? He doesn't really care about anyone," Nayeon explained, motioning towards where Jimin kept his back to the window as he continued to mess with whatever was in his hands.

"What can you expect from a spider? I'm pretty sure spiders are just like..." Minah motioned vaguely with her hands as she spoke, "Emotionless. They don't have like...consciousness like cats and dogs do, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Nayeon nodded with a sigh. "So, have any hybrids caught your eye, ma'am?"

"I actually..." you smiled lightly towards Jimin's figure.

"Oh...you really don't want him. Trust me," Nayeon shook her head. "Lots of people think they do but the second you go in there and meet him..."

"He's weird and creepy, I swear to God _____ if you get a spider hybrid I will actually beat you up," Minah grabbed your arm and tugged on you, "Please just get a cat or something I won't ever be able to come over if you get him. He's gross!"

You sighed, placing the clipboard up as you got fed up with Minah's whining. As she began to tug you away, you caught sight of what Jimin had been messing with in his hand — a little figurine made of web.

"I swear I'm never going to get the idea of a spider hybrid out of my mind now," Minah mumbled as you made your way home, "Are you seriously not going to check out any other shelters today?"

"Nah," you waved her off, "I'm pretty tired. I'll go tomorrow and see if I can find anyone."

"I have work tomorrow, I won't be able to come!" Minah whined, tossing her head back as she groaned.

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders, "I'm sure I can survive on my own. I'm a big girl."

"You say that as if I didn't stop you from getting a spider as a hybrid!" she cried, shoving your shoulder playfully, "Promise me you won't get any weird hybrids."

"I promise nothing," you turned your back to her, ignoring her whining your name as you disappeared into your apartment building.

You held your bag by your side, swinging it mindlessly as you stood in the elevator on the way up to your apartment. For some reason, your heart felt heavy and you couldn't help but flop onto your bed with a big sigh the second you stepped into your bedroom.

Staring up at the ceiling, your mind drifted to Jimin — unsure why the hybrid left such an impact on you.

When you woke up the next day, you still felt that heavy feeling hanging over you. As you got ready, you were looking up hybrid centers you could stop by to look at their selection.

Instead of going to the one you decided, a small family owned adoption center, you walked the same path as yesterday until you ended up in front of the same hybrid place you went to with Minah.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you looked at the door as you tried to decide what to do.

Suddenly, the door opened and a couple walked out snickering.

"Did you see it? How weird," the woman mumbled, "I couldn't even look at it without feeling sick."

"A hybrid like that should just be put down, no one's going to adopt it..." the man added, shoving his hands in his pockets, "It's probably just going to die in there."

"It probably doesn't even care...it's just a bug," the woman said before taking her partner's hand as they walked away.

After hearing them talk like that, you found yourself filled with determination to enter the building.

"Hi welcome!" a new woman was working at the main desk — her name tag indicating her as Yuri, "What can I help you with?"

"I'd like to adopt Jimin," you blurted out, watching as she froze where she stood blinking as if your words had thrown her through a loop.

"You...the spider, Jimin?" she asked, mouth falling open in surprise when you nodded, "I...are you sure? I mean there are plenty of other suitable hybrids—"

"I want Jimin," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"This has to be a joke," Yuri scoffed, customer service attitude dropping as she stared at you, "No one wants Jimin. You're just going to regret it."

"Whether I do or not isn't any of your business," you snapped, growing tired of her refusal to let you adopt him.

"How can you want a hybrid like that? Are you crazy?" she spat, narrowing her eyes to glare at you.

"What's going on here?" a sudden, masculine voice emerged from a once closed door behind the reception desk.

Yuri visibly tensed, her eyes going wide as she turned around to look, "M-Mr. Namjoon, sir...I-I didn't know you were in..."

"Right..." the man named Namjoon frowned down at her before looking at you, "Is everything alright?"

"I want to adopt Jimin and she's not letting me," you quickly ratted the rude girl out, not caring for her job after her attitude.

"Jimin?" Namjoon asked, shock evident on his face. "Are you sure?"

You were getting ready to argue again, when he suddenly reached over the reception desk to pull out a form. As he handed it to you, you realized it was an adoption form.

"M-Mr. Namjoon...surely you can't—"

"Yuri, you're dismissed," Namjoon snapped, pointing towards the door without giving her a single look. She scoffed, angrily grabbing her bag from by her chair before storming past you, muttering under her breath as she left.

You grabbed a pen and began to fill out the information on the page, acutely aware of Namjoon's eyes on you. He didn't say anything, however, so you tried your best not to pay him any mind.

Just as you were about to sign your name on the bottom, he placed his hand on the paper to stop you.

"If this is a joke..." he said, looming over you with a frown on his handsome face, "Then it's gone far enough."

"Why does everyone keep criticizing me," you mumbled, standing up straight to look at him.

"No one has ever...genuinely adopted Jimin or even really tried to adopt him," Namjoon explained, "He has been here for over 10 years...in that room, alone," you were shocked to see the way his eyes became glassy with tears, "So if you're planning...to get his hopes up for a sick joke...I really don't think he can handle it."

"I thought no one cared about him here?" you asked, watching his brows furrow,

"Who said that?" he asked.

"Girl named Nayeon," you shrugged, "I came here yesterday and she and my friend told me not to adopt him. I got annoyed so I left and came back without Minah so I could do this without her yelling at me."

"Well she's wrong," Namjoon said, "I own this center. I care for each and every hybrid that comes through those doors no matter where they come from, what breed or species they are, or how they act. Jimin is..." he sighed, "Jimin is special. No one ever looked twice at him unless it's to belittle him."

"Do people...try to adopt him as a joke?" you asked, your heart aching at the sympathetic pain that was in Namjoon's eyes as he nodded.

"A couple times," he said, "Stupid dares or attempts to look cool...they always get his hopes up only to be told it's a joke and that no one really wanted him to begin with."

"That's terrible..." your eyes burned with the appearance of tears at Namjoon's story.

"So please..." Namjoon whispered, voice cracking, "I am begging you to only do this...if you really want him."

"I really do," you said, meeting his gaze as he stared at you for several seconds. He seemed to be thinking it over, whether to believe you or not. Slowly, he removed his hand and nodded, "I'll go get him."

You nodded, watching him disappear down the hallway before signing your name on the indicated lines. Standing there, you couldn't help but think back on Namjoon's words. No doubt Jimin faced a lot of cruelty and ugliness in his lifetime. The very thought of him being shut in a room, forced to listen to people call him names for 10 years had your eyes filling with tears.

You would do everything in your power to make him happy with you.

"You're still here..." Namjoon's voice had you jumping and you spun on your heel to find him standing there — alone.

"Um...of course..." you shrugged, "Where's Jimin?"

"I didn't get him yet," Namjoon explained, walking up to you with his arms crossed over his chest, "Usually when I leave to get him...people run away. So..."

"You decided to test me," you said, chuckling when he nodded, "Did I pass?"

"You'll pass when you pay for him first," he said, rounding the reception desk to take a seat in front of the computer.

"Locking me in with the cash, huh?" you shook your head, slightly offended that he believed you were such a bad person but also understanding his desire to protect Jimin.

You opened your purse and pulled out your wallet, passing your debit card over to him. He held it in his fingers for a moment, looking at it with his jaw clenched. As you were about to question him, he punched a few things into the keyboard and slid your card into the chip reader.

"Alright," he printed the receipt and stood, handing it over to you.

"Hey..." you stopped him before he could get too far, "You only charged me $100. Isn't it supposed to cost $1,000?"

"Keep your money for Jimin," Namjoon said, giving you a dimpled smile before turning and disappearing into the double doors leading to the hybrids once again.

You stuffed the receipt into your purse and inhaled deeply as you waited for them to come back. The doors were pushed open and you turned around to see Jimin face-to-face for the first time.

He met your gaze for a fraction of a second — long enough for you to get a look at his face. His eyes were a striking amber brown with split pupils — two in each eye. The vibrant color seemed even more so against his black sclera. You could see the faintest sign of fangs poking out from between his lips. He quickly looked down at the floor as he and Namjoon approached you.

"Hi Jimin," you greeted with a smile. He didn't respond to you and you deflated slightly before looking to Namjoon, "Thank you so much. We should probably get home so he can get settled in."

"I think that's a good idea," Namjoon said, placing his hand on Jimin's back to urge him forward. The hybrid easily moved closer to you and you were able to see the wisps of web that were attacked to his hair, clothes, and skin. "Bye Jimin."

Jimin froze for a moment, looking over his shoulder at Namjoon. You watched for a second as Namjoon's eyes grew glassy and it occurred to you that Namjoon was losing Jimin after 10 years. Jimin reached out to place his hand against Namjoon's arm.

"You know..." you paused, making both of them look at you, "You have...my address and phone number on the file now. So...if you want to visit any time...you are more than welcome to. I don't live far from here...just a few blocks. I walked here today."

"Really?" Namjoon brightened up, smiling until his dimples appeared, "I appreciate that. I promise I'll visit you, Jimin, okay?"

The hybrid nodded, a smile of his own appearing — letting you see the sharp fangs in his mouth. The way he smiled caused his eyes to scrunch closed and you couldn't help but smile alongside him. He was cute.

"It's not much..." you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your little apartment, "There's a spare room you can have but you'll have to share the bathroom with me."

He stood in the entryway, looking around with wide eyes at the living room. His mouth was open a bit and he looked amazed.

"It's...nice," he said, speaking the first words to you. His voice was soft, holding a gentle melody to it.

"Thank you," you smiled, waving him over to follow you, "I'll show you your room."

He eagerly trailed behind you, hot on your heels as you made your way down the small hallway to the last room — right across from yours.

"Is this it?" he asked as you pushed the door open, "My room?"

"Yeah, mine's across the hall," you said, stepping aside to let him step into the room. "It uh...doesn't have a bed but...I saw you didn't have one at the center so..."

"I don't need one," he said, confirming your suspicion, "Is it...alright for me to...web?"

"Um...yeah, it should be," you bit your lip, accidentally meeting his curious gaze.

"Do you not like the webs?" he asked, the happy glow around him vanishing, "I-I won't web anywhere else in the house, I promise. Or...if you think it's gross I can try not to but—"

"Hey, it's alright," you chuckled, shaking your head, "I was just worried that the web might mess up the walls or something. If there's damage then I won't get my deposit back on this place."

"Oh..." he relaxed and looked around, humming, "I don't think it will do anything. It's really soft and it's never pulled paint or anything."

"It should be fine," you waved him off with a smile, "If something happens we can lie or something," he smiled, a soft chuckle leaving his lips, "I'll leave you to do...whatever you gotta do."

"Okay," he said, a smile still lingering on his lips as you stepped out and closed to door behind you.

As you stood in the kitchen, you suddenly realized that you had no earthly idea what Jimin would eat. You hummed, going over your options before deciding you'd just ask him.

He'd been holed up in his room for a couple hours so you hoped it'd been long enough. Stopping at his door, you knocked a few times as you waited for him to answer.

"Come in!" he called and you pushed the door open.

"Whoa," you paused, looking around at the changed room.

There was a thick cave of web in the corner that he was sitting in front of, softly smoothing his hands over. He looked over his shoulder with a smile.

"I got my nest done," he explained proudly, "I didn't get to do anything else but...oh well, I have time."

"Yeah, you do," you nodded, "Hey Jimin...what do you eat?"

His smile disappeared immediately and you were worried you'd offended him somehow but before you could apologize, he spoke up, "What do you eat?"

"Um...mostly ramen or cereal, not really healthy stuff," you shrugged, "I get take out a lot — chicken or pizza."

"I eat whatever you eat," he smiled, nodding his head.

"Are you sure?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, "If you're just saying that because you're worried about bothering me, please don't. I have money saved up specifically for you so if there's anything special you need, Jimin..."

Jimin looked anxious for a second, twirling a piece of his web around his finger, "I really do eat anything you do but...there is something..."

"What is it?" you urged, kneeling on the floor beside him.

"It's really hard to get a hold of and I think it's kind of expensive..." he meekly met your gaze, giving you a small half-smile, "There's a special treat that Namjoon sometimes got for me — it's called SpiderSnack...it has supplements and things in it that...help web production and other stuff..."

"Do you know how to get it?" you asked, which Jimin hummed in response.

"I think there's a website online, Namjoon always told me it was delivered so..." he shrugged, sitting back on his hands, "You really don't have to get it though."

"I have no problems getting it," you smiled, patting his shoulder before standing up, "Now come on and help me decide what to get for dinner."

"Alright," he stood up and quickly followed you out of the room and into the living room.

It didn't take long for Jimin to decide he wanted a cheese pizza, which you happily ordered for him.

Once you were both finished eating, he decided to head back into his room to rest. After bidding him goodnight, you curled up on the couch with your favorite movie playing.

At some point, you'd fallen asleep. However, you were woken up by a soft sniffle coming from beside you. The sound had your eyes fluttering open, frowning as you saw Jimin sitting on the floor watching the TV play.

"Jimin?" you asked drowsily, sitting up.

He looked over his shoulder and you could see, off the reflection from the TV, there were tears on his cheeks, "S-Sorry...did I wake you?"

"What's the matter? Are you okay?" you asked, sitting up and kneeling on the floor beside him. "Why're you crying?"

"I...I don't know," he chuckled humorlessly as he wiped his cheeks, "I was trying to sleep and came out to get a drink and saw you sleeping here...I just...got emotional."

You smiled, placing your hand on his back, "A lot happened today, it's okay."

"Why did you adopt me, ______?" he asked suddenly, turning his teary gaze to you.

You were quiet for a moment, staring into his eyes — his double pupils trembling slightly, "I don't know...I couldn't stop thinking about you when I went home. I woke up that morning and I just knew that...I wanted to have you here with me."

He smiled, more tears falling from his eyes as he leaned forward and engulfed you in a warm hug. You smiled, wrapping your arms around his middle to hug him back.

"I'm so grateful..." he whispered, "No one but Namjoon has ever treated me the way you have. Even if you decide to give me back...I'll be happy because I've now felt kindness from someone."

"I won't give you back, Jimin," you promised, your own voice becoming watery with your tears, "You're here to stay and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Hey...how old are you?" Jimin asked, taking a bite out of his toast.

"22," you replied, jumping when he gasped.

"I'm older than you!" he laughed, fangs glistening in the sunlight.

"Don't let it get to your head," you mumbled, a slight pout evident in your voice.

Jimin laughed happily, his smile contagious.

"Hey, can I watch TV?" he asked suddenly.

"You don't have to ask, go for it," you said as you collected the dishes to prepare for washing them.

Just as you turned on the water, however, your doorbell went off. Jimin was standing in front of the TV, remote in hand as he stared at the door. You noticed the strong frown on his lips and the dark look in his eyes. He watched the door as if he were ready to attack whoever was on the other side.

Opening the door, you gasped when you saw Minah's beaming smile.

"Hey!" she giggled, stepping into the apartment. "Did you—" she froze when her eyes landed on Jimin.

"Um...Minah..." you swallowed nervously, "This is Jimin. I adopted him yesterday."

"You did what?" a look of what you could only describe as disgust crossed her face as she looked at Jimin.

Jimin had lost all light to him, curling in on himself as he kept his head down. You could see his hands were shaking as he held the remote. Your heart ached at the sight.

"_____, this is ridiculous!" Minah cried, turning to you almost angrily, "You got a spider hybrid? What is wrong with you? Who the hell goes to adopt a hybrid and thinks 'hmm gee a gross webbing freak would make a good pet!'"

Before you could say anything, Jimin dropped the remote to the floor and took off down the hallway — slamming his bedroom door shut.

"Minah!" you snapped as you turned back to her, "Just because he's different doesn't mean there's anything wrong with him! He's been called names all his life, I'm not going to let someone come into my house and do it to him!"

"_____, I'm sor—"

"Just save it," you hissed, yanking the front door open as a signal for her to leave.

"You can't be throwing me out over him!" she gasped, offended, "I told you if you got that bug—"

"Just get out!" your words made her flinch and she pursed her lips before storming out.

Slamming the door, you let out a sigh. Running your hands through your hair, you realized you were shaking. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself before making your way down the hallway to Jimin's room.

"Jimin?" you called through the door, tapping on it a couple times. He didn't answer and you sighed, "I'm coming in, okay?"

He still didn't respond and you pushed the door open. You jumped when your face was met with wisps of web. Waving your hand in front of your face, you broke the strands and stepped inside the room.

It was basically fully webbed and it felt almost like cotton beneath your feet — soft and fluffy. Making your way across the room, you stopped at the opening to his nest, kneeling down to peer in.

He was sitting down, knees drawn to his chest as he cried. Your heart ached at the sight and you sighed.

"Jimin..." you reached inside the nest to touch him but were met with a sudden, sharp slap that had you retracting your hand. You hissed in pain, bringing it to your chest as the skin burned from the impact.

"I should have known you were just like the rest!" he hissed, the glare on his face was nothing short of hateful.

"Wh-What're you talking about?" your own eyes becoming teary. You felt hurt that Jimin had hit you and was now speaking and looking at you like he couldn't stand you.

"Bringing your friend over to make me feel like shit!" he snapped, a curse surprising you, "I know you think I'm just a disgusting little insect you can step all over but I'm not!"

You gasped, flinching when he shouted the last word. Quicker than you could react, he was shooting from the entrance, knocking you to the side as he stood above you. His shoulders were heaving with anger but there were still tears falling from his eyes.

"Jimin—"

"Don't!" he shouted, shaking his head, "You're just like every other human. You're never going to accept me...I should have known you could never love me..." his anger seemed to dissipate as quickly as it appeared, "I'm not a cat or a dog but...I feel just like they do. Why...why aren't I deserving of affection and care like they are? I always have to watch normal hybrids go to good homes and find someone who will hug them and make them happy. I thought," he paused as a sob broke through his lips, hanging his head, "I thought I could be like that but instead I get stuck with a bitch who thinks it's fun to hurt me for a good laugh!"

Your mouth fell open at the insult, unable to say anything as he turned his back to you. Scrambling to your feet, you breezed past him, pulling the door shut behind you before going into your own room to cry.

The impact Jimin had on you was incredible. In just a day, you already felt nothing but love for him. But in the same amount of time, you'd managed to become the source of hatred. His words continued to bounce around your head as you stayed holed up in your room. Your phone went off, showing a few texts from Minah but you ignored them, intent on letting her know you weren't willing to forgive her for this.

What hurt the most, however, was the guilt you felt over allowing him to be hurt so severely. You'd brought him into your home to make him feel safe and just one thing went wrong and that safe space was shattered for him.

A few days went by with no sign of Jimin. You could hear him leave the room in the middle of the night to get some food or to use the bathroom before he shut himself away once more until the next night. He was doing everything in his power to shut you out and you were too scared to try and corner him. You didn't want to upset him like that again — listening to the way he cried and talked down about himself broke your heart.

He was so wrong, thinking he wasn't good enough to be loved. You wanted to tell him, but there was no way he would listen to you.

You sat on the floor of the living room, typing away on your laptop as you had an essay due for your class. You were on a roll when the doorbell ringing broke you out of your groove. Sighing, you got to your feet and opened the front door.

There was nobody at the door, however, instead there was a package sitting on the floor. Bending down, you scooped it up and brought it inside, kicking the door shut with your foot before bringing the package to the kitchen. With the help of the scissors, you managed to slice the tape and pull the cardboard flaps open.

The words SpiderSnack popped out in bright red letters and you smiled. Pulling it from the box, you took a look at it. Inside the bag looked similar to Chex Mix.

Tapping your fingers on the counter, you debated what you could do. You took a look down the hallway. He most likely wouldn't answer if you knocked on the door.

He would come out later that night, however. Taking a sticky note from the magnetic ones that were on your fridge, you wrote a quick note and stuck it onto the bag.

An olive branch, perhaps.

Smiling, you went back to your computer to attempt to complete your essay.

Entering the kitchen the next morning, you paused when you saw the SpiderSnack still sitting on the counter. The sticky note had been pulled off, crumpled, and tossed away like trash. You bit your lip to keep your tears at bay as disappointment washed over you. Attempt apparently not accepted.

You were laid in bed, watching a stupid reality TV show to pass the time as you had no desire to be up for the day. Suddenly, your phone being to angrily buzz from its place on the nightstand. Jumping, you snatched it up to see an unfamiliar number calling. Swiping to answer, you brought it up to your ear.

"Hello?" you asked through a mouthful of Lucky Charms.

"_____! It's Namjoon," you froze and sat up.

"Oh...hey, Namjoon," you winced at how stiff you sounded.

"How is Jimin doing?" the dreaded question had you casting your eyes downward in shame. How were you meant to tell the man that entrusted you with Jimin that you'd essentially broke his heart, "Is something the matter?"

"I..." before you could get any further, you burst into tears. Namjoon hurriedly spoke from the other side, urging you to calm down and tell him what was going on. After a moment of you attempting to get your breathing under control, he fell silent.

"You regret it, don't you?" his voice was dark, "Thought you wanted him and now you realize...you're trapped with a creepy hybrid you don't actually like as much as you thought you did."

"No!" you cried out immediately, your own volume startling you, "Th-That's not it at all! I just...something went wrong and now he just...he won't come out and I'm pretty sure he can't stand me now."

"What happened?" Namjoon asked, sounding less angry than he did a second ago.

"My friend came over...she got mad that I chose to get Jimin instead of another hybrid," you explained, sniffling as another wave of tears came over you, "She started saying awful things in front of Jimin and now he thinks I set him up for that."

Namjoon sighed, "What'd she say?"

Um," you thought back, "She called him a freak...I can't really remember it, Jimin and I got into a fight afterwards."

"He's rightfully upset," Namjoon's words had a sob breaking from your lips.

"I know...I-I'm so sorry, I didn't think it through. I-I was so caught up in-in getting him settled I forgot to let anyone know," you explained tearfully, covering your mouth as your breathing stuttered slightly, "Maybe I should just...give him back..."

"That would only hurt him more," Namjoon said, "Jimin's more fragile than he looks and when he's hurt he gets tunnel vision...he only wants to see what he thinks it the truth and refuses to listen to anything otherwise. I don't think giving him up is the right thing to do."

"He's only miserable here now," you mumbled, "He stays in his room all day and only comes out for a few minutes each night. It's not fair for him to live like that so he can avoid me."

"I see..." he fell silent once more, "I'm going to hang up now. Please call me when you've made a decision."

Before you could reply, he hung up and you were left with just the TV once more. You buried your face in your hands and cried out everything you needed to before laying back down to try and nap.

You heard a door creak open, rousing you from sleep. Your eyes burned as you opened them, feeling swollen from crying. Sitting up, you realized the TV was still on and night had fallen. You'd slept the day away.

Sighing, you grabbed the remote and began channel surfing for something more interesting to watch as you flicked the lamp on. It was going to screw your sleep schedule up but you didn't feel like sleeping anymore.

As you sat against the headboard, holding a pillow in your lap, you heard three delicate knocks on the door. Your heart stuttered in your chest and you called for him to come in.

He pushed the door open slowly before peeking his head inside, the mop of purple hair untamed and hanging in his face.

"I saw...your lamp turn on..." he said as he stood in the doorway anxiously.

"Ah...couldn't sleep," you explained, shrugging your shoulders.

It felt so tense and awkward around him now and that broke your heart. You bit your lip to keep yourself from breaking into tears again. Jimin slowly approached the bed, weight causing the floorboards to creak beneath him. He was silent as he stood beside you, running his tongue over his fangs.

"Please don't send me back," your head snapped up when you heard him whimper out the words. "I-I heard you on the phone...I'm sorry, ______. I'll do anything, I don't want to be put in that room again to have people stare at me like I'm a freak show."

"Are you sure?" you asked, your own tears breaking free, "I don't want you to have to live with me when you hate me."

"I don't hate you!" he cried, tossing his head back in frustration, "I'm such an idiot."

You watched as he reached up to knock himself on the head with his fist. Reaching up, you grabbed his wrist to stop him, causing him to look at you before sobbing.

"Th-The first person who takes me in and I-I go and ruin it," he whispered, breathing stuttering, "I knew I didn't deserve this."

"Jimin..." you tugged on his wrist so he would sit down on the bed with you, "I don't want you to go either. I-If you'll stay then I want you here."

He paused, meeting your gaze before wrapping you up in a sudden hug, "I want to stay here with you for as long as you'll have me. I'm happy here and I love you."

"I..." you smiled, burying your face in his neck as you smiled, "I love you too, Jimin."

The two of you exhausted yourselves from crying and you both decided to lay down. You reached over and turned off the lamp, snuggling beneath your soft fleece blanket with Jimin pressed against your side. You were pleasantly surprised by how warm he was.

"_____," he said, voice vibrating in his chest where you head lay, "I'm so sorry..."

"Hm? For what?" you mumbled sleepily, vision blurring as you watched the TV. His heart was faster than a humans and calming to listen to.

"I...I hit you and I shouldn't have done that," he said, his hand finding its way around your waist, "And I had no right to call you a bitch. I was angry but there's no excuse so I'm sorry."

You smiled, snuggling closer to him, "It's okay, Jimin. I forgive you."

Things seemed to calm down quickly and you fell back into an easy rhythm. You were happy to find Jimin eating out of the SpiderSnack that you had bought him.

"I really appreciate this, you know, ______," he said with a mouth full, "I'm sorry I didn't eat it earlier I just..." he sighed, "I felt bad for how I treated you and it felt wrong for me to take these."

"It's okay," you reassured, patting his back as you sat down with a bowl of cereal, "As long as you can eat it now."

You and Jimin dissolved into a conversation about the dream he'd had the previous night, wondering if he could look up the meaning of it. Just as you pulled out your phone to open google, your doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," you said, missing the anxious look on Jimin's face as you made your way to the door.

Pulling it open, you were pleased to see the glasses-clad face of Namjoon. He smiled sheepishly, hands tucked into his pockets.

"Hey! Come on in!" you grinned, opening the door wider, "Hey Jimin! Namjoon is here!"

There was a momentary pause before you heard the loud scrape of Jimin's chair being pushed back. His hurried footsteps grew louder until he came into view with a huge grin on his face.

"Hey Jimin!" Namjoon greeted, opening his arms as Jimin threw himself towards him for a hug, "How are you doing?"

"I'm great," Jimin breathed as he stepped back, "How are you?"

"Really good," Namjoon replied, nodding his head, "It's really good to see you. I really hope you don't mind me stopping by. I had you address from the adoption form."

"No, it's perfectly fine," you smiled, closing the door before motioning the man to come inside, "We were just eating breakfast. Would you like anything?"

"No, I'm fine thank you," Namjoon said, taking a seat on the couch.

"_____ found SpiderSnack for me," Jimin blurted out excitedly, making Namjoon smile.

"Really? That's great, now you can gorge yourself on it," he teased, making the hybrid laugh.

The atmosphere became one even brighter with the appearance of Namjoon. You could tell how happy he made Jimin and you felt thankful that Jimin at least him him outside of you.

As you stood in the kitchen, eating your cereal to give them some time alone, an idea came to mind and you smiled.

When it was time for Namjoon to leave, you asked to speak privately with him. As you stepped out and shut the door, you met his gaze.

"Do you think it'd be a good idea to introduce him to others...you know — get him some friends," you asked, flushing when he smiled.

"I think it'd be a good idea," he nodded, "Either your own trusted friends or some hybrid friends. There's lots of groups that actively get together in the community for hybrids to get to know one another."

"Really? Other hybrids don't...think badly of him?" you asked, frowning.

"Not typically," Namjoon replied, "They're typically quite uncaring of other hybrids' species...all they really care about is that they're hybrids as well."

"Alright," you smiled, "I have some friends with hybrids of their own. I'll meet with them and see if I can set something up."

"It's a good idea to slowly introduce them," Namjoon advised, "Too many new faces and scents could freak him out and make him insecure. Just expand his circle slowly and at his own pace, okay?"

"Alright, thank you, Namjoon," you smiled, bidding him goodbye.

When you stepped back inside, you were filled with a new found determination to brighten Jimin's life even more.

Your friend Taehyung and his dog-hybrid Jungkook were the first ones you contacted. They lived nearby and you had worked with Taehyung at a local cafe for about 2 years where a friendship had budded. His adoption of Jungkook was what opened your eyes to the possibility of getting your own hybrid.

"Jimin," you called from the front door, pulling your shoes on as you heard his door open. He came into view with bedhead and tired eyes, "I'm going to see some friends so I'll be gone for a little while, alright?"

"Alright," he yawned, "Be safe."

"I will," you waved him goodbye and left.

"_____!" the overexcited voice of Jungkook had a smile spreading across your face as you walked into the ice cream shop that you'd decided to meet at.

"Hey guys!" you greeted, walking up to the table but pausing when you found them, only to pause at the two new faces.

"I hope you don't mind..." Taehyung chuckled nervously, "I brought a couple friends...Hoseok and his hybrid Yoongi."

"You mentioned you have a new hybrid you're looking to integrate?" Hoseok asked, an almost blinding smile on his face.

"Um yeah, that's right...it's nice to meet you both," you smiled, taking a seat.

"What kind of hybrid is he?" Yoongi asked.

"He's actually a spider-hybrid," you said, watching all four faces turn to that of surprise, "I know it's unusual...but he's really sweet."

"Hey I didn't say anything," Taehyung chuckled, "I've just never heard of a spider-hybrid."

"They're like...crazy rare," Jungkook gasped, leaning forward, "I think they're basically an endangered species of hybrid now. There are so few of them, to be honest, I thought they were extinct."

"How'd you find him?" Hoseok asked in interest, leaning forward.

"I found him at a shelter," you explained, "He'd been there for like 10 years because no one wanted him. People are...surprisingly cruel to him."

"Poor thing..." Yoongi sighed, shaking his head, "I think it's great for you to introduce him to some friends."

"Humans can be so cruel..." Hoseok sighed, shaking his head.

"I guess we could hang out at your place in the future?" Taehyung asked, looking towards you.

"I don't think that's a good idea..." Jungkook mumbled, "He probably won't like having strangers in his space right off the bat."

"How about a park?" Yoongi asked, "If he spent pretty much all his life in that shelter then...I'm sure he'll enjoy being outside for a while."

"You know...I haven't taken him out yet..." you admitted, "Do you think I should?"

"I don't see why not," Yoongi replied, "Expand his world, he may enjoy the bonding with you."

You smiled, thanking them for the advice before you all finally ordered your ice cream.

When you returned home, Jimin was sitting in the living room with a plate of pizza rolls while he watched TV.

"I'm home," you said, closing the door behind you as you kicked your shoes off and hung your jacket up.

"Hey! Welcome home!" Jimin greeted, looking over his shoulder as he stuffed a pizza roll into his mouth, "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah!" you grinned, making your way over to the couch to have a seat.

As you did however, you felt Jimin stiffen beside you. You reached forward and stole a pizza roll, popping it in your mouth with a sigh.

"You..." he turned to look at you, a dark look on his face that sent a chill down your spine, "You smell different."

"Eh?" you raised a brow, looking down at yourself, "I...have a new body wash..."

"No you..." he leaned forward, his nose meeting your neck before he took a slow inhale, "You smell like other hybrids."

"Oh," you smiled, shaking off the flutter in your chest from his proximity, "I met with my friend Taehyung and his hybrid Jungkook and they brought their friends Hoseok and hybrid Yoongi."

"I don't like that..." he growled, running his tongue over his fangs, "I don't like their scents on you, _____..."

"I..." the deep tone of his voice has your heart skipping a beat and you flushed hot in response, "D-Do you want me to shower then?"

He didn't say anything, simply nodding his head. You could feel his gaze burning holes into you until you disappeared down the hallway. When you reached the bathroom, you placed your hand over your heart to steady it as it continued to race.

There was something about sweet, soft Jimin acting so dark and commanding that just had goosebumps rising all over your skin. You quickly decided to jump in the shower before your thoughts could go any further.

Once out of the shower, you towel dried your hair as you made your way to the living room once again. Jimin was still sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees as he gazed at the TV. He didn't seem to notice you and as you looked at him, you couldn't help but admire his features.

A sharp jawline and pretty, plump lips that he mindlessly ran his tongue over up to the soft slope of his nose and pretty eyelashes that fluttered against his cheeks.

You stepped up to the couch, finally getting his attention and he turned to look at you. His eyes traveled up and down your body, as if inspecting you, the golden glow of his eyes making those double pupils even more prominent.

He stood up, gazing down at you intently, making you shudder. Reaching up, he cupped your jaw and roughly turned your face away to expose the column of your neck. He leaned forward, nosing at the skin. Your breath hitched as you felt his lips ghost of your pulse, pausing to inhale deeply there.

"Much better..." he breathed, suddenly pulling back and dropping to the couch with a smile, "Come on, I was just about to watch A Star is Born."

As he patted the seat, you couldn't ignore the flame he'd lit within you. His sudden behavioral change left your head spinning but you took your seat beside him anyway.

"Hey Jimin?" you asked, a few days after that incedent. Jimin hadn't brought it up and you pretended it never happened. The two of you easily fell back into a rhythm.

"What's up?" Jimin asked from his bedroom.

"Do you want to go shopping?" You asked, smiling when you heard his muffled footsteps before his bedroom door opened.

"Really?" he grinned, bits of web stuck to his hair.

"Yeah, come on," you reached up to pull the whisps from his hair before he stepped out.

It was endearing how excited Jimin was as you made the short walk to the nearby shopping district. He had his hands shoved in his coat pockets as he talked animatedly about anything that came to mind.

The place was bustling, you and Jimin having to weave in and out of the many people you passed. Jimin looked around in wonder at all the shops.

"Do you want to stop inside?" you asked as he paused in front of a men's clothing shop, "You haven't gotten any new clothes since you came here..."

"Really? Can I?" he asked, eyes sparkling when you nodded.

You followed behind him into the store, the scent of cologne in the air making you wrinkle your nose. Jimin disappeared into the racks of clothing as he located the hybrid section. You decided to follow his lead, taking a look around to see if anything stood out that you could make gift him.

You reached the back of the store, finding a wall of shoes. You heard muffled voices from up front and you turned around to see the top of Jimin's purple head. Frowning, you realized there was someone in front of him.

As you approached, you could make out the words, "What are you?"

"Um...wh-what do you mean?" Jimin asked timidly.

"Your eyes...they're fucking weird..." the stranger mumbled.

"I'm a uh...spider..." Jimin replied, though you could hear his voice tremble.

"Ew, seriously?" the man, you realized, asked in disgust, "Can you make webs and shit?"

"Hey!" you snapped, making both men look at you. Jimin relaxed in relief and the stranger raised a brow, "Leave him alone."

"This bug yours?" he asked, a cocky smirk on his face.

"Don't call him that!" you spat, breezing past him to grab Jimin's hand, "Come on Jimin."

"Careful and make sure he doesn't end up splattered on a windshield!" the man laughed.

You felt Jimin's hand tighten around yours as you both left the store.

"Jimin..."

"I want to go home," he mumbled, releasing your hand before slowly making his way in the direction of the apartment.

"Okay..." you whispered, trailing behind him.

His form looked so sad, head hung and shoulders hunched. You cursed that man for ruining what could have been a perfectly lovely and fun day for the hybrid.

Once you entered the apartment, he made a beeline for his bedroom but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Don't, Jimin," you sighed.

"Don't what?" he asked, sounded so dejected that it broke your heart.

"Don't shut yourself away," you begged, feeling the prick of tears when he pulled away from you and made his way down the hall once again.

Instead of going into his room, however, he turned and went into your room. A small smile played at your lips in relief before you followed his lead.

He was sitting on your bed, hands folded in his lap when you entered.

"It's just a stupid name...I don't know why it bothers me so much..." he mumbled as you stood in front of him.

"It's okay..." you mumbled, running your fingers through his hand, making him shiver, "Your feelings are always valid, Jimin. If the name makes you hurt then...we just have to find a way for it not to."

"How do we do that?" he asked, looking up at your with teary eyes.

His lashes fluttered as you brushed a stray tear away, "How about we turn 'bug' into something positive?"

"Positive?" a small smile was finally playing at his lips as he looked at you, his glassy eyes shining once more, "What, you going to start calling me a love bug?"

"Jimin the love bug," you cooed, watching how face turn red until he had to break his gaze. You giggled, "Does that make you happy? Being called a lovebug?"

The way he wrapped his arms around your middle, hugging you as he laughed. You couldn't resist wrapping him up in a hug in return.

It had been such a long week and you felt drained. Jimin was bustling about as usual, happy as could be. You were bored, thinking of something to do when your phone went off.

You were elated to discover some of your girlfriends were going out to party.

"Hey Jimin!" you called as you began digging through your closet for something to wear, "I'm going to go out!"

"Huh? Where?" he asked, startling you as he appeared in the doorway of your closet.

"Out drinking with some girlfriends," you said, finally picking out a dress.

"Drinking? Will you be safe?" he asked, following close behind you as you picked a pair of shoes and placed the slowly forming outfit on the bed.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," you reassured, feeling giddy at the idea of going out to have some fun.

Jimin lingered, watching you almost anxiously until you shooed him out so you could get dressed. Keeping your makeup light, you opened the door to find Jimin leaning against his bedroom door.

"Alright, I'll be back late okay?" you said, making your way down the hall as you slid your phone into your purse, "Don't wait up."

"_____..." Jimin whined as you opened the door, making you pause. You could see he wanted to say something but he only sighed and gave you a fake smile before saying, "Have fun."

You did feel bad leaving him alone when it was clear he didn't want you to, but you needed to go out and have fun. You adored Jimin but you needed some time away from him, just some simple girl-time with your friends and drinks.

You got buzzed pretty quickly — not wasted but you were feeling pleasantly buzzed. Naturally, such a state interfered with your inhibitions and logical decision making.

Which is why you ended up bringing a man you'd met at the bar home.

It didn't occur to you, as you kissed the man and let him pin you down to your bed, to think of Jimin. He pushed the hem of your dress up and roughly yanked you close to him, making you squeak in shock.

Pinning your wrists down, he began trailing his lips across your exposed collar bones. Before his hand could reach your panties, there was a low growl that ripped through the room.

"Oh shit!" the man gasped, jumping back in shock at the appearance of Jimin standing in the doorway, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Jimin," you mumbled, sitting up to push the hem of your dress down properly.

"Get out," Jimin snarled, approaching the man aggressively.

"Wh-What the fuck are you?" the man sputtered, scrambling out of your bed as he met Jimin's eyes — his double pupils easily following his every move.

"I...y-you should probably go..." you mumbled from the bed, biting your lip as you watched Jimin bare his fangs in warning to the stranger.

"Y-You're kidding right?" the man scoffed, shaking his head, "Fucking freaks."

With his departure, you were left with a very tense Jimin. His chest was heaving with anger as he stared at you, taking a few easy strides to you.

"Did you enjoy that?" he growled, crawling onto the bed. The way he crawled over you was predatory and you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together in response.

"Wh-What?" you breathed, keening at the feeling of his lips meeting your neck.

"Making me angry," he whispered, "Letting him taint you with his disgusting scent when you know...my scent is the only one you should have on your skin."

"I-I'm sorry Jimin..." you whimpered, your panties growing damper by the second, "I'm drunk I wasn't...thinking straight."

"Right..." he scoffed, the dominance he oozed nearly had you moaning, "I want you to go take a shower, wash his stink off of you and when you come back...I'll make you smell like you should."

He leaned back to let you slide off the bed. The way he scanned over your body, tongue sliding over his bottom lip made you clench pathetically in your panties. As quickly as you could, you made it to the bathroom and haphazardly stripped.

When you stepped back into your bedroom, Jimin was still sitting on your bed. The shower had significantly sobered you up and as you stood in front of him, you felt shy with his dark gaze on you.

"What's the matter?" he asked, a smirk growing on his face as you shifted on your feet, "You look nervous..." he stood up, the way he walked was confident and he had his head held high, "Do I make you nervous, _____?"

"I..." you licked your lips as you looked up at him, "I just really want to touch you."

"Oh?" he chuckled, cupping your chin, "Don't you mean you want me to touch you? Hm?" he leaned closer to you, his nose brushing against yours with his close proximity, "Isn't that why you brought him here? I saw the way you let him treat you, pin you down...is that what you like? You want to be treated roughly?"

Your eyes fluttered as you whimpered in arousal, the very idea of being pinned beneath Jimin's powerful form so tempting. Licking your lips, you met his gaze. You were able to see his eyes so much better and they were so beautiful and unique you could get lost in them.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, breath fanning over your lips. It took a second for you to remember where you were before you quickly nodded.

Then a fraction of a second later, his lips were on yours. The kiss started out soft, like Jimin was taking his time to enjoy his first kiss with you. Quickly, however, it turned hotter until he was licking feverishly into your mouth.

As your mind was occupied with his mouth, he reached up to pull at the hem of your towel. It easily came undone and fell to the floor — leaving you completely naked. You gasped at the cool air against your damp skin. He grinned against your lips and stepped away, leaving you feeling vulnerable.

Those enchanting eyes traveled over every centimeter of exposed skin. The urge to cover yourself was tempting and your fingers twitched by your sides.

“You are…” he breathed, tongue sliding over his bottom lip, “Stunning.”

“Jimin…” you breathed his name and you saw his jaw clenched at the desperation in your voice.

He could hear your heart pounding, could see the way your pupils displayed, and could smell your building arousal. His own cock was hard in his pants, dripping precum and no doubt making a mess.

“On the bed,” he ordered, watching as you scrambled to crawl on.

You turned and sat down, facing him. He grinned, showing those sharp fangs, at the sight of you sitting so prettily — waiting for him. You were under his control, giving your body up for him — trusting him to take care of you. The thought made his cock throb and he released a slow groan.

You bit your lip as he began to approach you, taking his time while keeping his eyes locked on you. When he was within arms reach of you, he inhaled deeply and grinned.

“I can smell how wet you are for me…” he whispered, making your cheeks flush hot.

“Y-You can?” he nodded, reaching up to gently wrap his hand around your throat. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, nosing your neck before inhaling deeply.

“Of course,” he breathed, “My senses are much more acute than yours are…and might I say, you smell delectable.”

“Y-You sound like you're going to eat me,” you whispered, making him pause.

He leaned back and met your gaze, his beautiful eyes trembling slightly as he rested his forehead against yours. Then, his eyes slowly scrunched up and he let out a little giggle that had your heart skipping a beat.

How could he go from taking your breath away with starling dominance to making your heart skip a beat with how utterly endearing he was? But as soon as that cuteness appeared, it vanished again.

“Of course I wouldn't eat you,” he whispered, slowly sinking to his knees, “But I wouldn't say no to a taste.”

You gasped as you were suddenly pushed flat onto your back. Rough hands roughly gripped the back of your knees, yanking you forward with surprising strength before pinning them open.

Your cunt was completely exposed to him and he groaned at the sight. There wasn't even a second for you to feel embarrassed before his tongue was diving between your folds.

The first thing you noticed was how hot his tongue was. The second thing you noticed was the foreign texture — similar to a cat's tongue only much softer. You could feel the barbs slide over your clit, making your hips jump.

Jimin moaned, sliding his tongue against your entrance to collect more of your sweet arousal. His lashes fluttered, enjoying the way you tightened around the intrusion.

Your fingers found purchase in his hair, not pulling but holding on. He grinned against your pussy, using two fingers to spread you open. Pulling back, he watched your hole spasm and your clit twitch in arousal.

“So small…” he whispered, bringing two fingers to your entrance, “How will you take my cock?”

“Fuck…” you gasped as he worked the two digits in. Your eyes rolled back at the light stretch, biting your lip as soon as he started scissoring them.

“Does that feel good?” he asked.

“S-So good...another finger, please,” you whined, a beg he quickly abided.

Jimin let out a soft moan of his own as he worked to fit the third digit in. Your walls were squeezing him tightly, trying to suck him in deeper.

“Y-Your tongue, please make me cum, Jimin,” you begged, lightly tugging on his hair.

He groaned at the feeling, the slight pain making his cock pulse. He had never been harder in his life.

Leaning forward, he swirled his tongue around your clit. Your reaction was instantaneous, your back arching as your walls squeezed tight.

He felt your body trembling, tensing and your breathing picking up. Working harder, he worked his fingers inside of you. Suddenly, he hit a spot that had you exploding.

You cried his name, arching so beautifully as you gushed around his fingers. He groaned at the feeling of his fingers becoming soaked in your cum. Diligently, he worked your spasming clit until you were pushing him away from the sensitive bud.

Pulling back, he pulled his fingers from your cunt. Your thighs immediately snapped shut as you trembled, coming down from the high.

He brought his fingers to his lips, enveloping them one by one to lick your cum off of them. He could feel his underwear sticking to his length from the amount of precum he was leaking. His cock ached, desperate to be buried inside of you.

He stood suddenly, gaining your attention once more. You had more or less settled down while he was in his own world. Sitting up, you watched as he stripped.

His shirt was first, dropped to a pile on the floor. Then he pushed his sweatpants down, revealing his boxers. You licked your lips at the sight.

He was big and it made your throb with want.

Finally, he pulled the last article down and he was as bare as you.

His cock was very similar to a humans in shape. It was thicker than any you'd ever taken and it was drooling precum in strings to the floor. Your mouth watered at the sight and you shuffled forward.

Jimin watched you curiously as you grabbed his hip, urging him to the edge of the bed. You looked up at him and wrapped your hand around the base — your fingers not able to touch around him.

He shivered visibly, goosebumps rising all over his skin as he reached out to grab your wrist.

“F-Fuck…” he whimpered.

“Are you sensitive Jimin?” you teased. The glare he shot you sent shivers down your spine.

Leaning forward, you took the thick head of him into your mouth. His head fell backward and he moaned — a long, drawn out moan you'd only ever dreamed of hearing a man make.

You sucked the head of him, mouth already stretched without going any further. His cock was so fat and drooling precum on your tongue with every pulse you could feel of the thick vein on the underside.

Swirling your tongue around him, his breathing hitched you could see his body tense before a bitter taste coated your tastebuds.

Your cunt was soaking by then. He had cum just from you sucking the head of his cock.

When you pulled off, his cheeks were flushed and his lips were parted with his heavy breathing. You swallowed his cum down, the consistency a little more watery than a human’s cum.

Things were still for a moment before you noticed he was still just as hard as before — and leaking more precum. He moved forward, wrapping a hand around your throat to maneuver you into moving you backwards.

You were laying with your head in the pillows, Jimin sitting on his knees. He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself with a sigh.

“Pull your knees up to your chest, show me your little cunt,” he whispered.

You did as your were told, hooking your hands beneath your knees to pull them to your chest. You were completely exposed, your dripping pussy utterly vulnerable to him.

He shuffled forward, positioning his cock at your entrance before pausing.

“Will you even be able to take me?” he asked, the fat head of him sliding over you sensitive clit.

“Y-Yes please, please give it to me,” you begged, watching the way his length parted your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asked, finally looking up at you, “I don't want to hurt you.”

Your heart fluttered as you smiled, “It's okay, Jimin, it'll feel good.”

He seemed to relax slightly before the tip finding its way to your entrance once again.

Neither of your breathed as he began to sink into you. The stretch burned, your pussy not used to taking something so big. Reaching down, you circled your clit as he stuffed you full.

He watched as more and more of his cock disappeared inside of you. Quickly, he bottomed out — bumping against your cervix. You gasped at the feeling and he pulled back slightly.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“A-A little…just don't go all the way, okay?” you asked, making him smile and nod.

Of course he wouldn't do anything to hurt you.

Replacing your hands on the back of your thighs, he pulled out — your juices clung to his cock and made his mouth water. Pushing back in, he was mindful to not go all the way just like you asked him.

Your moans rose in volume and he could feel your body tremble beneath him. His eyes were on the way your cunt was stuffed so fucking full with him. He didn't know how you were even taking him but it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

You were so wet that every movement was mingled with the slick sounds of your arousal. Reaching down, he brushed his thumb over your clit, making your mewl in pleasure. He could feel the way you clenched even harder around him as he circled the bud.

“Jimin...y-you'll make me cum…” you warned, voice wobbly as your body was jostled with the movement of his thrusts.

He looked up at your face finally, your mouth was open and your eyes were glassy with pleasure. You were beautiful and it made his heart flutter.

“Want you to cum,” he whispered, working his thumb in circles as he continued to fuck you. His cock was so big he didn't even have to try to touch your spot — he couldn't avoid it.

He worked you for less than a minute before you were cumming. Your walls spasmed around him and he felt the hot gush of your cum sprinkle across his skin and over his cock. He cursed, his own cock throbbing in pure arousal at the sight of your squirting for him.

Your cries were of pure ecstasy and it sent him to his own high.

You felt him still, his mouth falling open before a low whine escape his lips. His cock pulsed a few times before he was filling you with cum.

You were surprised by how much there was — much more than he'd released in your mouth. It filled your cunt up and kept coming. His cock plugging your entrance made it impossible for it to leak out.

It was hot and you could feel his cock throb with every spurt of cum he released. You felt so full and for some reason it turned you on to be so full of his cum.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, he began to pull out. As expected, his cum gushed out once able to. It leaked to the bed and you mentally cringed as you realized what a mess it'll be to clean.

Jimin seemed transfixed on the way your ruined cunt drooled his cum. He had marked you as his — it was his scent on you now.

“_______…” he whispered, crawling up to cover your body with his.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, meeting your eyes. You were still obviously recovering but you still reached up to cup his cheek.

“I think...I think I really love you,” he whispered, watching as your eyes widened, “You're the only person who has ever...cared for me. I want to stay with you forever.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, “I love you too, lovebug.”

He beamed at the nickname, pulling back to press his lips against yours. It was soft again, he was pouring every ounce of his love into it.

His touch was soft as he treated you like you were the most precious thing in his life.

And to him, you were. You were his everything.

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capitainelevi · 3 years

Text

Togetherness

Prompt for @rivetra-week: Harmony

Words: 3481

There was no sign of her today. Levi wondered once again who she was and why she was haunting his dreams. He couldn`t even remember her name anymore. But Levi knew he missed her. He felt himself drifting to sleep and closed his eyes.

"Happy birthday, Levi!"

Gabi and her family entered Levi`s room with a small cake, but he didn`t seem to notice their presence. Levi was gazing out the window, and his favorite love song was playing on the phonograph in the background. Gabi and Falco gifted it to him on his birthday 39 years ago, and it was still in perfect condition. They noticed the way Levi`s eyes lit up when he saw one in a display window, but they knew he would never spend money on something other than tea leaves and cleaning products. With their allowances, they were able to buy it in time for his birthday, and Levi scolded them for wasting money on him. But they knew he loved the gesture.

Falco got close to him and slowly shook his shoulder. "Levi, did you hear us?"

Levi just stared at them. His dementia was getting worse every day. When they started to notice the first signs, they forced him to see a doctor. When they heard his diagnosis, Levi just told them to take him to a nursing home. But they prepared the guest bedroom for him the next day. Levi was family, and their daughter was more than ecstatic to have him live with them.

"It`s your birthday today. It`s Christmas day, do you remember?"

Levi`s sight focused on the window again, and they wondered if he forgot about their presence already.

"Where is she?"

Falco stared at Gabi, unsure of what to say. When his disease worsened, Levi started talking about a woman. He started asking for her almost daily. Gabi and Falco sat down and tried to figure out who it could be, but Levi never had any lovers as far as they knew. They started to wonder if she was real.

Gabi smiled at him- "She should be here soon. Do you want to come downstairs and celebrate with us while you wait?"

Levi nodded, and Falco helped him get downstairs in front of the fireplace. Gabi and her daughter went to the kitchen to light the candles on the small cake they baked together.

"We should have added 81 candles."- Sofia pouted.

Gabi pinched her cheek, and she yelped in protest- "Then you should have helped me bake a bigger cake."

"Who do you think she was?"

Gabi shrugged and took the cake in her hands- "Maybe his lover, who knows? We don`t know much about his life before Marley."

They made their way back to the living room, and after he blew out the candles, Sofia hurried to get the presents from under the Christmas tree. She gave Levi one of the gifts, and he ruffled her hair. Levi tore the wrapping paper and smiled at the sight of his favorite tea leaves. No matter how poor his memory was getting, his love for tea was unscathed.

When it got dark, Falco took Levi back to his room. He helped Levi get back in his armchair for the night and turned on the music for him. He still preferred to sleep in a chair.

Levi woke up abruptly. He was lying on his back, with the sun blinding his sight. Levi used his right hand to cover his eyes... wait, he thought. He was met by something he hadn`t seen in dozens of years. His fingers were all intact. More than that, his skin wasn`t worn out by age anymore.

How odd, he thought. Levi couldn`t remember much these days, but something felt off. Did he dream it all? Being Humanity`s Strongest Soldier? The war? Getting old?

He found himself lying in the middle of a field, and Levi took a moment to cherish all the sensations. It had been years since he felt so carefree. He missed the feeling of the grass against his fingertips as he ran his hand through it, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the breeze on his skin. Levi turned his head to the side and spotted a small cottage in the distance. He used to have dreams of one before old age claimed his memories. He dreamt of the smell of freshly baked muffins and the sound of children playing in the backyard. The best ones were of her sitting on his lap on a lazy afternoon. Yes, Petra. He could remember her name now.

"Welcome home, Captain."

The voice he yearned to hear for so many years startled him, and Levi rose to his feet abruptly. His mouth went dry, and he could not seem to get a word out. Petra was as beautiful as the first moment he laid his eyes on her. Among the recruits, a small girl with fire in her eyes captured his attention.

Petra wore a long, white lace dress, with a beautiful embroidery decorating its length. She had a single white rose in her crown braid, but Levi`s attention was fixed on the shy smile she gave him. Oh, how he missed her. His memory, plagued by the passing of time, did not do her beauty justice.

"Am I..."

Petra gave him a sad smile before cutting him off.

"Dead? Yes, I`m afraid so. You died in your sleep on your 80th birthday."

Levi sat down on the grass, taking a moment to process it all. He felt confused, half-convinced it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

"I thought this was a dream."

Petra sat down on the grass next to him. She took his hand in hers, and he squeezed it back. She made small circles on his skin with her thumb in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

"If it were, would it be a bad one?"

"No," Levi answered without giving it a second thought. Dream or afterlife, he could never be bothered about getting to share it all with her.

"I thought it would be different. I didn`t feel anything. No fear, no pain."

Petra took his hand and placed it on her lap. She could feel where the conversation would be going next, and she didn`t want Levi to torment himself anymore.

Levi averted his eyes from hers. He felt a lump forming at the back of his throat, and he barely got out a whisper- "You died at such a young age. Did you..."

Petra interrupted him again. She cupped his face in her hands and turned his sight back to her.

"I was paralyzed by fear. I didn`t feel anything, I swear. It was quick."

She could see the disbelief in his eyes, but she kept going.

"I... I wish I had more time there. But we can`t fool fate, can we?"

Levi closed his eyes, still tormented by regret. He took one of her palms, and he placed a small kiss on it.

"I couldn`t get justice for you. For the guys. I`m sorry."

Petra threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. Levi wrapped his arms around her, and Petra gave a smile at how much he was holding onto her."

"We didn`t want you to. There was so much hate already. What happened to us... it wasn`t your fault, Captain."

Levi sighed in relief, happy he got her forgiveness nonetheless. He ran his hand up and down her back, wishing time stood still for a moment.

Petra pulled away from him, and Levi could see the faint tears in her eyes. But the smile she gave him melted his worries away.

Levi cleared his throat before speaking- "You`re gonna get it dirty."

Petra frowned, confused at where the conversation was going.

"The dress. It`s white, what did you expect?"

Petra burst into laughter, throwing herself on the ground. She swore she could see Levi`s eye twitch at the gesture.

"I`m serious, Petra. Grass stains are a bitch to get rid of."

She took his hand in hers again, tempted to pull him down next to her.

Petra batted her eyelashes at him- "I`m sure you`ll get them out for me."

He flicked her forehead, and she gave a small yelp in protest.

"You wish, brat."

Petra turned on her stomach, and she looked up at him with a big smile on her face while her hands cupped her cheeks. She said in the sweetest voice she could manage- "I know you can`t help yourself, sir."

Levi sighed and laid down next to her. "Fine, you win. But you`re still a brat."

Petra giggled, and she moved closer to him. She placed her head in the crook of his neck, and her fingers started fidgeting with one of his shirt`s buttons.

"I`ve missed you, Levi. I`ve been waiting for you."

Levi put his arm around her and he pulled her closer to him. "I`m sorry you had to wait for so long."

Petra shook her head at his response.

"Time passes differently here, I didn`t mind. Plus, I had company. Everyone visits from time to time."

Levi felt anxious at the thought of seeing everyone again. He hoped he didn`t disappoint any of them in the end.

As if reading his mind, Petra turned his face towards hers, and she ran her finger along his cheek. "Don`t worry, they can`t wait to come to visit."

Petra was only met with silence.

"We all get together on your birthday to celebrate. Erwin, Hange, the guys, and the rest of our friends." She gave a smile. "I guess everyone loved you. We eat cake, we drink tea, and we share our stories about you." Petra gave a small laugh- "Now that I think about it, we should have cleaned too."

Levi chuckled, and Petra was surprised to see a smirk forming on his face.

"You all do a piss poor job anyway."

Petra kicked him playfully in the shoulder, and he pulled her close to him again.

"There were also some interesting people from your past that I got to meet and become close to."

"Who..."

"Isabel is the sweetest girl."

Levi felt tears forming in his eyes when he heard that name. After she died, he tried to remember her the way she used to be: cheerful, optimistic, loud, and most importantly, happy. But images of the people he cared about devastated by death still haunted his memories, up until he started to lose them.

"She and Farlan come to visit me weekly. They help me around the garden. Did you know Farlan has a green thumb?"

Levi missed them both dearly. They taught him a lesson he cherished until his life ended: that family isn`t always blood.

"Isabel`s big appetite always leaves my pantry empty. After we finish gardening, she and Farlan help me prepare lunch and bake dessert. We always have to fight with Isabel over a piece of it."

"Eld, Gunther, and Oluo are always pestering me, of course. Just when I`m having a relaxing, good day, I hear loud knocks on my front door." Petra looked up at him and smiled.

"Even in death, I can`t get some time away from them!"

Levi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You love them."

Petra sighed and gave a small laugh- "Yeah, of course, I do. They are family, after all. My life would be so dull without their antics."

"I can tell you it is. I found myself wishing I could hear Eld tell the story of how you pissed yourself on your first mission one more time."

"He still tells it all the time!"

Petra felt a bit anxious about what was on her mind, and she told him in a low voice- "Your mom is an amazing woman."

Levi gasped, both scared and impatient to see her again. She had always been on his mind, the pain of losing her so soon following him all his life. He hoped she wouldn`t judge him for the hard choices he had to make. He did what he had to do to survive, but Levi felt he was disrespecting her memory from time to time. His mother had been nothing but kind, and Kenny almost managed to murder the values she tried to instill in him.

"She came to visit me when I got here. We`ve gotten pretty close over the years. She and your uncle come for tea sometimes." Petra gave a small laugh- "He scares me though, I`m sorry. He pulls a ridiculous number of knives out of his sleeves!"

Levi had a complicated relationship with Kenny. But after he passed away, Levi started to forgive him, to understand what he was trying to do for him.

"Your mother is very proud of you, Levi. She can`t wait to see you."

Levi didn`t know how to answer her words, so he tried to avoid the subject.

"How about your old man?"

Petra sighed, and she turned her sight to the sky.

"Papa was mad at me when he first got here. For dying so young, for missing out on so many opportunities. But he loves me too much to stay mad at me, of course. He and mama are reunited now, so I`m glad they`re happy again."

"You know, I got to meet him once."

Petra covered her eyes with her arm, embarrassed to be relieving this moment again.

"He embarrassed me so much! I wanted to come back just for the sole reason to stop him from running his mouth!"

Levi averted his eyes from her- "I feel like neither of us would have been bothered by that."

Petra bit her lip, the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She didn`t want to ruin this reunion with her tears, though she knew Levi wouldn`t mind.

"I wish I could have been there by your side. To help you watch over the kids."

"Over the brats, you mean."

Petra laughed at his correction- "They weren`t that bad, Captain. They all loved you."

There was a silence in the air, as neither of them wanted to talk about what Eren did.

"I wish I could see the sea."

Levi wished that for her as well.

"I wish I could have felt the waves against my legs. To run my fingers through the sand, to feel how soft it is. I wanted to taste the water as well, to see how salty it truly is."

Levi squirmed at the thought- "Are you crazy? Like I would ever let you do something so stupid!"

Petra pouted, but Levi held his position- "Fine, have it your way."

Petra whispered- "I`m sorry you had to go through so much."

"It was alright in the end. I had two annoying brats to keep me busy."Levi appreciated everything Gabi and Falco did for him, considering them his family over the years.

Petra barely listened to him, too lost in her thoughts- "I`m so sorry I had to leave so soon. I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to support you, to be a shoulder for you to cry on when you needed it."

Levi turned his head towards hers and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I don`t cry, silly."

"But you did. The night you lost us."

Levi felt his throat tightening, not expecting to hear that response from her. He barely whispered- "Did you see that?"

Petra just nodded, and a single tear rolled down her cheek when she squeezed her eyes shut.

"You taught me to live without regret, Levi. But I did die with one."

Petra raised to her knees and kept her head down, gathering the courage to speak the words she`d been longing to tell him for more than 40 years. The tears flowed freely on her cheeks, and when she met his eyes, she could see his worry in them. But also hope.

"I love you."

Levi got up to his knees, and he cupped her face with his hands. He used his thumbs to clear her tears away, and they looked into each other`s eyes without breathing a word out for what felt like an eternity. Levi leaned towards her lips, and Petra closed her eyes, impatient to have them on hers. Levi captured her lips, putting all of his love and yearn into it. The sacrifices, the hurt, the pain, they were all worth it in the end.

He and Petra were one now. After wandering for so long, they were finally whole.

Levi deepened the kiss, and he could feel Petra's smile against his lips. She ran her hands through his hair and pulled him closer, eager to feel him against her. He devoured her lips until they were both out of breath.

He took her in his arms and laid her down on the grass before getting on top of her. Levi kissed her again, letting his tongue explore her mouth, before moving to lay open-mouthed kisses on her jaw. Petra wrapped her arms around him, moaning softly from the pleasure he was making her feel. Levi licked a trail down to her neck before laying soft kisses on it. He whispered I love you against the skin of her neck, and Petra whimpered, the tears threatening to fall again. She pulled him up to her lips and kissed him while holding onto him so tight he felt out of breath.

Levi pulled away, and he laid a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. Petra giggled and gave him a big smile- "Do you want to go home, captain?"

Levi couldn`t control his smile anymore. He had been longing to hear those words.

"Yes, I would very much like that." He wanted to go home for far too long.

Petra got up to her feet and offered him her hand, helping him off the ground. Petra`s smile faded away at the sight of an angry Levi.

"Tch, what did I tell you?"

Petra felt panic rise in her chest, thinking he might regret confessing his feelings to her.

"It`s ruined! I`m never getting that stain out, you might as well undress and leave it here for the fucking animals to shit on."

Petra turned her head to look at the green stain on her dress, and she burst into laughter at his antics. She was a messy kid growing up, and her father always teased her about falling in love with such a clean freak.

She let him ramble under his breath as she pulled him towards the house. Their house, she hoped.

Petra lived in a small cabin with flower pots at the windows. She had two chairs on the porch, one too many in his opinion, as he planned to have her in his lap every evening. He spotted a small vegetable garden on the side of the house, wondering if she and Farlan needed an extra hand.

When they got on the porch, Levi stopped her, and Petra frowned at his gesture. Was the house not to his liking? Did it not seem clean enough?

“Is something wrong? If you don`t like it, we can always redecorate.”

Levi kissed her to shut her up and picked her up in his arms, bridal style. It seemed appropriate, as they were starting a new chapter together. Petra yelped, surprised by his gesture, but wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Shall we, my dear?"

Petra giggled at the extremely uncharacteristic sweet talk- "Of course, my love."

Levi opened the door, and he almost hit her head on the frame. He cringed at his awkwardness, but Petra just gave him a small kiss on his cheek. He made his way to the living room and set Petra down on one of the armchairs.

Levi took a moment to take in the surroundings. It was cleaned up to his standards, and his chest filled with pride. He had trained her well. The living room was small, with some shelves filled with books, two armchairs in front of the fireplace, and a table between them. The tea Petra had prepared for them went cold, but tea was tea. He would never let it go to waste.

The room filled with music, and he turned his head to find Petra in front of a phonograph. It was his favorite song.

Petra gave him a shy smile and reached out to him- "Can I have this dance, Captain?"

Levi put the teacup down, and he wrapped her arms around her. They started moving slowly, and Petra laid her head on his shoulder. He ran his hand up and down her back, and she closed her eyes, wishing the moment never ended. They danced until evening fell, oblivious to the hours passing.

They had all the time in the world.

(x)

#rivetra weekend #rwmay2021 #rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #petra ral #rivetra fic #I hope it`s okay ❤️#rivetra headcanon #my writing

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liptonsbabe · 3 years

Text

Havoc [Thomas]

A Maze Runner fanfiction

Summary: When the reader, the second-in-command of the village goes out into the maze looking for a way out, the last thing she hopes to find is a whole new community on the other side of the walls. Much less, when it seems to be inhabited only by boys her age.

Warnings: none

A/N: Hey! This is my very first fanfic here and i decided to start with some tmr stuff ;) English not my mother language so please let me know if something is wrong. Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter one: Leaving home

YOU WAKE UP THAT DAY WITH AN INCREDIBLE MOOD, although things in the village were not encouraging at all.

The dew hadn't fallen yet when you were already in front of the maze, impatiently waiting for the doors to open. You were carrying a backpack with the breakfast on your back, the belt resting on your hips, and an awl strategically hidden in your back pocket.

You didn't understand why your heart was beating so fast even if the night before had been the worst of all. The disease was progressing, it was devastating the village and the parents were leaving their children alone. You trembled in your place. You've never seen anything like that before. The illness, the confusion, the tiredness, the agony. The desease was ending with all of you. If you and the trackers didn’t find a way out as you had promised, then the village would be devastated.

You couldn't allow it. You weren't going to give up. Maybe the answer was out there, waiting for you and you weren't going to keep it waiting.

Maybe the feeling of your restless heart was a good sign. Maybe your heart was sensing things that you could not know and, with a little bit of luck, get it right as he almost always did.

The village had exits from its four points, so, as the sun was in the west that day, you decided to start with the east gate, considering it a good sign. You pulled your hair up in a high ponytail, ate an apple as fast as you could, and waited for the doors to move.

A curtain of dust and pebbles rose in front of your face as you listened the doors opening. That day the main corridor to the maze had a strange smell, but you thought that your nose was already damaged by the medicines and infusions that you had been smelling in the nursery, so you ignored it. You adjusted your boots waiting for the stench to disperse when a strong pull carried you backwards, scaring you.

“What the hell...? Asenat! "You muttered releasing the grip on your shirt. The girl smiled haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest “How many times do I have to tell you to not pull me like that? I hate being pulled!

“You can do it as many times as you want, I honestly don't care, I'll keep doing it anyways”

“You're an idiot”

“Where do you think you are going?” Cassidy asked, standing next to Asenat, both of them staring at you with their arms crossed over their chests and frowning. You rolled your eyes

“To do my job, the same as you should be doing right now”

"You are no longer a tracker”

“I am the leader, I can give myself that position”

"Second leader," Asenat corrected you, "After Richard, and he was the one who gave you the order to stay in the village, remember?"

You clicked your tongue as the trackers were already leaving to the maze. Asenat caught your shirt between her fingers again preventing you from running. Cassidy sighed, shaking her head. If something was clear to them about you, it was how stubborn you could be.

“Yes, I remember”

"Do you still have those headaches?"

"No," you lied. You'd been feeling terrible headaches for a couple of weeks now, before Richard fell sick from what the villagers called the glow. The man, who was also a tracker, had found you in the middle of your section with a terrible bruise on the back of your head and a pool of blood surrounding you. He carried you to the village, and when you were sufficiently recovered, you mentioned having a terrible pain and falling unconscious hitting the stone. Richard didn't need to know more to remove you from your job, forbidding you to return to the maze until your headaches were better. Until the night before you hadn't felt any pain, so you assumed you were fine “I'm great, don't worry about me. It was an accident”

"Yeah, are you sure?"

“Completely”

"Even if it were so, you are not allowed to go out," Cassidy said, determined. "We need you here, my friend."

"I'll be back before dark”

"Things don't work that way anymore," Cassidy replied, looking at you with a frown. "Richard hasn't died yet." His rules are still ours and since when we can do whatever we want?

“Don’t say it like that”

"You know Richard is not going to survive" Asenat lowered her voice preventing any other villagers from hearing her "he will die like the rest of the infected and when that happens all this will be over. We can continue with the rules that he made, but that will not be enough. There are families dying every day, our duty is to take care of them. We have a pact, okay? Treat the disease first, look for a way out later”

"How long are we going to keep waiting?" You asked, taking a step forward. Asenat sighed, "Three? Four? Another five years? This place is falling apart. If we really want to help the remaining villagers we need to find a way out, take them home, give them a better life, heal them "

"Nobody assures us that we will be better out there than here"

"Let's take the risk, we won't lose anything just by trying"

"We have kids in here, even babies. Their parents have died and they depend on us.

"This time it will be different" you said looking at them pleadingly "It's crazy, but something tells me that today we will find the answers we have been looking for. I could assure you that. Do you believe me? Do you trust me enough to believe in what my heart feels?”

Cassidy and Asenat looked at each other. Richard was still sick, confined to his cabin with the doctors trying to keep him alive. The night before he had lost part of the skin on his arms and his uncontrollable anger had made them tie him to the bed, however, that didn’t mean that in his small lapses of serenity he did not realize what was happening in the village.

Asenat shrugged her arms, leaving the decision to Cassidy. In her role as a teacher, she had no say in that situation and she didn't really care too much. You were reckless and almost always clumsy, but you had good ideas and that had helped you become te mainstay of the village. However Cassidy as the third in charge represented the third head of the monster. She would be the leader at Richard's death and if you didn't get back from the maze in time and that terrified her. She was not afraid of responsibility, nor making important decisions, but that represented visualizing a future where the three of you were not together and she preferred not to think about it.

"You know we do," she replied. "There hasn't been a single day when we doubted in your good judgment, but ..."

"It's different," Asenat said rubbing her chin. "The village doesn't feel like it used to. We are used to death, we can handle it, but the feeling of having it lurking over our heads is unbearable. The maze is not better. It is changing. I listen to it every night. The steel lobsters clattering through the halls. The giant woke up and will not go back to sleep”

"Cassidy," you called her, squeezing her hands. The girl sighed, thinking of the possibilities you guys had. Staying with your arms crossed was not an option, but neither was breaking the trust Richard had placed in all of you. Asenat watched you. The three of you shared the same fear, the same confusion and the same dread of losing the entire village. There were children who required the presence of someone capable to guide them, men and women waiting in fear to be infected with the glow and babies crying to feel the arms of their dead parents. You clenched her hands tighter. You needed to be covered for a few hours only and, in return, you would find the way out. You could do it, you trusted your instincts “Please...”

Cassidy sighed.

"We'll cover you until lunchtime, that's all."

"I only need that”

"Come back in one piece, will you?" She begged, looking at a small boy approaching. You leaned down, taking him in your arms letting out a groan as you picked him up. George was eight years old, he didn't weigh the same as five years ago. You kissed his cheek, returning him to the ground “The boy would go nuts if something happened to you”

"Are you going back to the maze?" George asked looking at you with his huge brown eyes. You nodded. Then you were hit by the little boy's suffocating embrace “the lobsters will hurt you!

"They are asleep now”

"They can wake up!"

"I doubt it little one. Don’t worry, I'll be fine. I'll be back at noon and we'll have a snack together, what ya think?”

“You promise?

“I promise”

"Okay, you can go," he said. You laughed, ruffling his hair

"Thanks, puppy. Stay with Asenat, okay? She can scold you while I'm gone”

"Ya’ heard it, boy," Asenat said, rubbing her knuckles at the top of his head. George complained, "You will stay with me the rest of the day and help me teach the little ones how to count to ten.

“That's not fair!”

"Life isn't fair, brat." Come on, maybe we can grab some chocolate from the kitchen later, huh?”

Asenat held out her hand and George took it enthusiastically as they walked together towards the largest cabin that you used as a classroom. George spun on his feet saying goodbye with a bright smile on his face. You blew him a kiss and Asenat turned to show you her middle finger. You smiled

"Take care of him, will you?" I highly doubt that Asenat will do it properly”

"I'm going to watch her. Now go before I regret it. And (Y/N)” She said, stopping you as you walked towards the main corridor of the maze. You turned around, waiting for his words “Don't die out there. The maze stinks enough to add the stench of a corpse” You nodded. It was a fair deal

“No prob”

You finished your run in your section faster than you expected. The meal would not be until three hours later so you decided to make a stop to rest. You sat on the floor against a wall. Hot sweat was running down your neck and the fucking headache was back. You closed your eyes, tired. It was terribly hot, and the stench of rotting meat numbed your nose.

You drank water, the little sip you had left, and put it back in your backpack. You were going to eat some of the apple slices you took with you, but the pain in the back of your head kept you from even chewing. You stood up wanting to continue your hike when the headache went down your neck and then numbed your spine. You leaned against the wall. It was covered in vines, moss, and fungus. You wiped your palms on your pants and started walking again.

The migraine erased your sight. For a second the world around you seemed to move in luminous spirals forcing you to close your eyes. The sound lightened and you swore you heard a static signal on your eardrums.

The floor spined over and over again. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands feeling the blood pour out from the sides, staining the stone. You heard the drops hiting the floor and suddenly everything stopped.

You were sweating. Your soaked shirt stuck to your body, your hair matted on your forehead and you opened your eyes. Pushing back the hair you noticed that this was not your section, that in some inexplicable way the maze had changed drastically and there was no way to return home.

Your heart beat madly. You fell to the ground on your knees, your head aching every second screaming in agony. You crawled down the corridor without understanding its course, but recognizing small fragments of leaves pointing a path to the north.

was that the way out? You, without being aware of the pain, could you have operated some kind of lever, changing the composition of the maze, leaving it unrecognizable? You weren't sure.

You kept crawling. The leaves spreading across the path, turning into a corridor covered in dust and dirt. You complained in pain and in the confusion, you managed to hear voices from the other side.

You buried your nails in the stone rising up. You pulled forward slowly approaching until you reached the exit (or the entrance?) of the maze. The wind ruffled your hair. Then your hands touched the green grass and the pain stopped.

You stayed alert. Your senses fading little by little from fatigue. Your head ached, your hands ached, your back ached. You heard the clear voice of a boy and, unaware of it, you got up as best as you could.

You got up with the help of the leaves on the wall. You narrowed your eyes focusing on the meadow stretching out in front of you. It was not the village, it was not the exit. The walls of the maze were surrounding the meadow and you could only think that the pain had caused you allusions.

Then the torture returned. You clenched your teeth. Your vision became blurry, however you could distinguish completely unknown figures in the mist. Your ears recognized voices, men's voices, and, unable to bear another second, you fainted.

#the maze runner #thomas #dylan obrien #tmr #cast #the scorch trials #the death cure #newt #gally imagine #minho x reader #thomas x reader #dylan o'brian imagine

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sepublic · 4 years

Text

Understanding Willow!

Big surprise- ANOTHER great episode!

You know what, let me just try to process what happened, by going through the beginning and from there! Firstly, it’s funny that the show confirmed that Amity is only tolerating Boscha and Skara at this point (and I guess some of those other friends), and she’s making it pretty clear to them as well- At BEST, her expressions are neutral around them! Honestly, Boscha and Skara’s parents being friends with Mr. and Mrs. Blight makes sense, it’s messed up but not surprising that they’d use their kid to try to establish connections with OTHER families! I have to wonder what Boscha and Skara’s parents are like… We know Boscha’s mom is, well…

Also, I was wondering why Dana confirmed Skara’s name, and now we know- It’s because she’s slightly plot relevant in this episode! I love the details of the literal butterflies being converted into birthday invitations, that’s always neat… Apparently Skara is also considered ‘popular’, too? Anyhow, I also noticed that the one girl in the Healing Track with glasses, who was also at Amity’s Moonlight Conjuring, got the haircut we saw Matthieu Cousin draw her with! THAT was a neat little easter egg! We also see a young Bo with Boscha at some point, and this is super-pointless… But would their ship-name be BOscha? Boschabo? Bo squared?

Gus’ little B-plot was pretty funny, and I’m glad we’re getting more interactions between the cast now! I love the callback to Sense and Insensitivity, with Not-Dana/Tiny Nose being ‘missing’ ever since her deal with Piniet… I can only imagine what happened there! Honestly, there’s not much for the dude to squash into a cube, but you get the idea! Eda and King competing for Gus’ interview was also hilarious, and DANG IT KING, answer the question- WHEN were you born, I know a couple of people, myself included, who are VERY interested in this answer…! I suspected Hooty would be chosen and I was right, but also not surprised, when Gus quickly regretted his decision! But hey, at least Hooty is happy!

(Also, that Eda dance.)

Luz is such a dork as always, loudly declaring that she’ll stick her face into something random, and then just going NYOOM when Inner Willow chucks her in- I wouldn’t have her any other way, and I love that we have ANOTHER picture of her when she was younger! Season 1B just keeps giving… Although let’s be real, it’s an extension of Season 1, and THAT gave us this entire show and Luz to begin with!

Onto the meat of this episode! First off… WILLOW’S DADS ARE GAY! Honestly didn’t see that coming, but I love it and I wish we got to see more of them! I’m also interested to see which dad (assuming it’s not both) has a Magic Staff, and if it has a Palisman, but that’s another discussion for another day! I WANT MORE WILLOW AND HER LOVING PARENTS, dang it! Parents who put her in Abominations but also still mean well and have Christmas morning with her! I want to see Willow’s house and life at home, dang it! I want to MEET her parents properly, see them react to Luz!

YOUNG WILLOW AND AMITY! YOUNG WILLOW AND AMITY! That’s just adorable… I love their little memories together, and the egg-pit gag was hilarious! It’s also super-minor but I adore that we got a cameo from the librarian during their past memories as well!

Inner Willow, though… At first I thought the flame-being was just, like, the incarnation of Amity’s spell. But then Eda mentioned the Inner Willow, and was like, OHHH… Oh boy. She was out for BLOOD, too! Angry Willow is pretty terrifying, but rightfully so- I’m glad the show didn’t shy over her anger and her genuine grievances with Amity! That had to have HURT, being on fire, but at the same time you can tell that Willow also genuinely wanted to burn her memories with Amity, too… Oof. How many years of pent-up rage and grief, manifesting, before spilling over at this final straw of being burnt? Amity is thematically associated with Fire, which burns plants, and her last name literally refers to a plant disease! You can tell just how BADLY Willow has been hurting on the inside, possibly even hating herself in the process, and I...!

You know, I doubt there’s any substantial connection between Willow and Belos beyond this, but I think it’s interesting to see that they BOTH have glowing green eyes- It’s interesting that such characters are shown (or at least implied) to be powerful, and now I can’t help but imagine Willow meeting Belos, and Willow going HAM for her friends… I wonder if the glowing eyes are a sign of being emotionally repressed, until it all just comes flowing outwards? Given how Belos values control, this may also apply to himself as well… Anyhow, I adore Willow’s friendship and love of Luz though, she has NOTHING against her and I love how even after almost losing her mind she still jokes with her! Willow’s got that scary side, but she’s also sweet and I love the show acknowledging how gangly Luz can be!

Amity! Looks like her dad got to have a voice, after all! Not much to her memories (Makes sense, we’re going into Willow’s here), but we clearly had insightful character moments! I have to wonder, did Amity know about how destroying the photos would destroy the mind as well? We don’t know if she’s in Photo Class and if she knows about the Memory Tweezers, so who knows? Either way that was NOT cool…

Honestly, I like that the show doesn’t shy away or forget what Amity did to Willow! I love Amity with all my heart, but I was definitely anxious to see how these two felt about one another- I had a feeling that Amity may not have totally gotten over her issues and still felt a little harsh towards Willow, which makes sense! She’s a flawed, messed-up character with her own problems. But speaking of problems…

DANG, her parents really made Amity get rid of her friend, on her own BIRTHDAY?! Jeez, at least wait until tomorrow at least… And not a big fan of them apparently deciding Amity’s guest list for her, it’s like they’re using their kid as a means to heighten their social status! Not that I’m shocked, I’ve already suspected this, but c’mon. I wonder how Emira and Edric felt about the whole thing with Amity breaking ties with Willow- Were they concerned for Mittens? Did they know about the parents threatening Willow, or to them did their little sister just suddenly become so cold and distant? I can only imagine how harsh Mr. and Mrs. Blight could be to them, but the twins seem a lot more independent and self-assured; It helps that they have each other!

ALSO, Amity is in the Owl House for the first time! She gets to see how weird the shenanigans are, and I love how she makes the choice to enter a wanted criminal’s home to fix what she did wrong! I really have to wonder what went on in her head, when she chose to burn that photo of her and Willow… SUPER MESSED UP, of course, and I love how Eda just unapologetically gives Amity flack for it! But at the same time, I wonder if that moment was Amity’s greatest regret… It’s unlikely, but perhaps there was the tiny hope in Amity’s heart that if Willow forgot (assuming that was the intention), maybe they could be friends again? Again, not likely- What is more likely though is Amity not wanting Luz to think badly of her and ‘lose’ THAT friendship, but I digress!

Poor Willow… I can only imagine how much PAIN she was in, both beforehand and when her Inner self was on fire! It was cute seeing her young and current Inner Selves interact, but at the same time it hurts because Willow is clearly someone who is used to being quiet and not noticed, and she just bottles up her rage and wrath inside until it manifests! I wonder… Could this be related to her glowing eyes? Could this apply to Belos? I dunno.

I appreciate the detail of Willow and Amity not exactly being willing to be friends again, I half-expected it and it makes sense! Amity clearly regrets what she did, it wasn’t her choice to begin with and she partly did it to protect Willow (Seriously, Mr. and Mrs. Blight were going to abuse their power to RUIN Willow’s education, what the heck?!) but she still let Boscha and Skara bully Willow. I’m glad she apologized for it, it shows a lot of growth on her part… It’d have been easy for Amity to blame her parents for what happened (and she wouldn’t even be WRONG, either) but she still owns up to not only her mistake of burning the memories, but just in general of being apathetic to Willow’s plight!

(Unrelated but I appreciate the Azura poster in her bedroom)

Overall- A fascinating episode, as expected! I did have issues with DisneyNOW constantly cutting the episode off with its Error symbol… And recently, every time the Error thing shows up and I click back in, instead of resuming the episode as always, the website is now forcing me to watch a few ads EVERY SINGLE TIME- I had to watch, like, seven times the ads I normally would have! Near the end it got pretty bad too, although I suspect this is because a lot of people are watching the episode! And I know it only became available at 2:08 AM or so (yeah I was EARLY and checked) but let’s be real here- We’re ALL pulling all-nighters for this show!

(I mean, I didn’t, I slept and woke up at the most convenient time without meaning to, but you get the idea.)

I didn’t touch on it as much earlier, but I love Luz’s whacky antics (or should I say shenanigans?) and how Willow and Amity are just… USED to it at this point! Willow totally expects Luz to try to repair her friendship with Amity, her kindness is just so well-known at this point and she’s so unconditionally well-meaning! Luz could’ve easily relegated the task of fixing Willow’s memories to Amity, who caused the problem- But her friend was at stake! And yeah she also wanted to experience Willow’s memories too, but still.

Honestly, with how much Luz is willing to do for both of these girls, it’s no wonder they love Luz so much! And with Enchanting Grom Fright up next… Even if there is no ‘declaration’, I can see their being the beginnings of a certain crush… for Amity, Luz is an anomaly who came out of nowhere but offers her unconditional love and support and has been changing her life for the better!

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house willow #the owl house amity #amity blight #the owl house luz #luz noceda

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chrisgoesrock · 4 years

Audio

03. Apache - Craig Smith (Maitreya Kali) - Color Fantasy - 3.50

Craig Vincent Smith (April 25, 1945 – March 16, 2012) was an American musician, songwriter and actor. He began his career in the 1960s playing pop and Folk music, and appearing on The Andy Williams Show. Smith wrote several songs that were recorded by successful artists of the time including Glen Campbell, The Monkees, and Andy Williams. After experimenting with drugs while travelling on the hippie trail, he suffered mental health problems which worsened over time. He released two solo albums, Apache and Inca, in the early 1970s under the names Maitreya Kali and Satya Sai Maitreya Kali. After spending nearly three years in prison for assaulting his mother, he spent the majority of the next 35 years homeless.

Early and personal life. Smith was born in Los Angeles, the son of Charles "Chuck" Smith and Marguerite "Carole" Smith (née Lundquist). His father was a descendant of gospel songwriter Charles H. Gabriel. His mother was of Swedish and German descent. Smith had two older brothers and one younger sister. Chuck Smith had worked as a manager at the Jade Room, a nightclub owned by Larry Potter, and was known by the stage name Chuck Barclay. After World War Two he worked as a welder and a salesman. Chuck died in 1978, aged 64, from a stroke, and Carole died in 1998, aged 82, from pulmonary disease.

Smith attended Grant High School, becoming class president and being on the school gymnastics team. He graduated in June 1963, and turned down a number of offers from colleges in order to pursue a career in the entertainment industry.

Career 1963–1966: the Good Time Singers. In August 1963 Smith was recruited by Michael Storm and Tom Drake (who had performed together as the Other Singers) to join the Good Time Singers, a band formed to replace the New Christy Minstrels on The Andy Williams Show. From December 1963 to January 1964 Smith and Storm also performed shows with Gordon and Sheila MacRae, supported by their daughters Heather and Meredith. The Good Time Singers released their debut self-titled album in January 1964, and their second album One Step More in October 1964. In between the albums they had embarked on a 17-city tour. Around this time Smith began songwriting, and he wrote a song called "Christmas Holiday", which was recorded by Andy Williams for his 1965 album Merry Christmas. As the Good Times Singers' was ending, Smith and fellow bandmember Lee Montgomery intended to form a new duo called Craig & Lee, but Smith had to pull out after successfully auditioning for a new ABC television show, called The Happeners. Smith had previously unsuccessfully auditioned for The Monkees. The pilot for The Happeners was filmed in November 1965. The Good Times Singers' contract for The Andy Williams Show was not renewed past 1966.

1966–1967: The Happeners and Chris & Craig. After a successful audition process, Smith won the role of Alan Howard on The Happeners. The show was to be directed by David Greene, and was a mix of acting and singing, set in New York and based on the fictional eponymous folk trio. However, ABC declined to pick up the show following the pilot episode. Smith and his The Happeners co-star Chris Ducey decided to form a musical duo called Chris & Craig. They moved into an apartment together and began writing songs. They signed to Capitol Records, recording a number of demos throughout the summer of 1966. Their first single, "Isha", was written by Ducey b/w "I Need You" written by Smith, and was produced by Steve Douglas utilizing session musicians Hal Blaine and Carol Kaye of The Wrecking Crew. It was released in July 1966. Another single, "I Cant't Go On" (written by Ducey), was produced with the same line up. Originally an acoustic duo utitilizing session musicians, during their later 1966 sessions they began experimenting with a full band, and in November 1966 they played a show supporting the Mothers of Invention with such a full band, with Smith and Ducey playing electric guitars. Throughout late 1966 and early 1967 the duo continued to write and record more songs, but they were never released by the label. In 1967 Smith befriended Gábor Szabó and the Beach Boys, unsuccessfully offering to write songs for the latter. In early 1967 Chris & Craig began playing with a permanent backing band. Through their friendship with Michael Nesmith of the Monkees, they hired Jerry Perenchio as their manager. They changed their name to the Penny Arcade, shortly becoming the Penny Arkade for trademark reasons.

1967–1968: the Penny Arkade. Nesmith began producing Smith and Ducey, initially pairing them with John London (bass) and Johnny Raines (drums). They were eventually replaced by Donald F. Glut on bass (who had appeared in an earlier incarnation of the band) and Bobby Donaho on drums. While the band worked on their own material, Smith continued to write songs, including "Salesman" for the Monkees, and "Hands of the Clock" and "Lazy Sunny Day" for Heather MacRae. Smith was also credited as co-producer for the songs, alongside Bob Thiele. He also wrote "Holly" for Williams. Nesmith took the band into a studio to record their album. One of the songs written at this time by Smith was "Country Girl", which was later recorded and released by Glen Campbell for his Try a Little Kindness album. The album never materialised, but some of the songs were collected and released as Not the Freeze in 2004. After a bad review of one of their live shows, the band decided to concentrate on writing and recording songs. In early 1968 they unsuccessfully auditioned for the role of house band on the TV show Peyton Place. In February 1968 Smith and his father went into business together, running a bar called the Buckeye Inn. In late 1968 Smith was associating with the Manson Family, and exploring an interest in Eastern philosophy, particularly Transcendental Meditation. Smith eventually left the Penny Arkade and decided to go travelling. The band continued without Smith until 1969, renamed as the Armadillo and with Bob Arthur as a replacement guitarist.

1968: travelling to Asia. After previously smoking small amounts of marijuana with friends, Smith began experimenting with LSD in 1968. During his travels Smith took LSD on a "regular" basis, and he smoked "copious amounts of hashish" while in Afghanistan. Smith decided to travel to India alone, with just a guitar and a backpack. He set off to join the hippie trail, arriving in Turkey in October 1968, possibly via Austria and Greece. Smith met fellow Western travellers (an Irishman and two American women) in Istanbul, and they set off together in a VW van, intending to drive to Delhi. After the van broke down, they hitched a ride in a lorry transporting olive oil, before taking a bus to Iran. They passed through Afghanistan, with Smith deciding to leave his companions for a few days in Kandahar while they travelled on to Kabul. Smith never joined them in Kabul; when his companions returned to Kandahar a few months later, they heard rumours that he had "gone crazy", running through the market with a knife threatening people, and then disappeared. It later became apparent that after threatening a market vendor, Smith had been beaten close to death and robbed, and possibly kidnapped and raped. Smith possibly spent some time in an Afghan insane asylum, where he is thought to have developed acute schizophrenia. It is not known if Smith ever reached India, although he and his travelogue claims he did visit India and reconnected with the Maharishi and went to Nepal.

1969–1970: return to United States and travelling to South America. Smith returned to the United States in late 1968 or early 1969, initially living back with his parents. He was possibly institutionalized and medicated for a short period. By this stage he was using the name "Maitreya Kali", which he intended to become his legal name, although this didn't happen until 1971. He continued to receive royalty checks from his historical songwriting for Williams and Campbell, amongst others. After his girlfriend left him, Smith decided to travel to South America, spending time in Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia, Argentina, and the Galapagos Islands of Chile. Returning from South America, Smith reunited with his girlfriend, and they became engaged. When the engagement ended, Smith ripped up the wedding dress his fiancée had chosen. Following another brief re-connection, the relationship ended for good when Smith violently threatened one of her male friends.

1970–1971: deterioration in mental health. Smith claimed to have mystical powers, and thought he was a messiah. He prophesied that he would be "King of the World" by 2000. He claimed to be a reincarnation of Jesus, Buddha, and Hitler. As his erratic and bizarre behavior became more pronounced, such as claiming voices were telling him to kill people, his friends started to ignore him. One friend eventually had to obtain a restraining order against Smith. His appearance became more and more unkempt, with long hair and a wild beard. At one point, he shaved his head and beard off, and dressed in robes, his appearance comparable to a Buddhist monk, although his hair and beard would later grow back. He visited Heather and Sheila MacRae in Miami, and was asked to leave by Sheila's new husband after he woke up to find Smith standing over their bed with a knife. Heather saw him again in Los Angeles in 1972, when he "looked really scary [...] just totally looked insane, and would say weird things."

1971–1972: Apache and Inca. Smith wrote two solo albums Apache and Inca in 1971, which were self-released in 1972. In the liner notes to both albums, Smith claims to have played every instrument. The liner notes as a whole have been described as "bizarre [and] rambling", and display his belief system. Apache was released on his own 'Akashic Records', and features three songs from the Penny Arkade recording sessions. Inca was released a few months after Apache, in the summer of 1972, not as a standalone album but as a double gatefold with Apache on his new 'United Kingdom of America Records' label. Like Apache, Inca also features songs from the Penny Arkade recording sessions. The albums were mainly distributed to Smith's friends or sold on the street.

1973–1976: prison. After the albums were released, Smith sold his car with the intention of going to Ethiopia. His mental health problems continued, such as suggesting to a friend that they fight to the death using samurai swords. He also had a small black spider tattooed in the middle of his forehead in 1972 or 1973. On April 22, 1973, Smith attacked his mother at the family home. An attempted murder charge was not established, and following a psychiatric examination, he pleaded 'no contest' to a charge of assault. He was sentenced in November 1973 to six months to life, the maximum sentence for the offence, and the Judge suggested intense medical and psychiatric treatment. He began his sentence at the California Institution for Men, before transferring to the Deuel Vocational Institution in December 1973. He transferred again, to the California Men's Colony, in February 1974. He was granted parole at the fourth attempt, and was released from prison in June 1976.

1977–2012: later years and death. Suzannah Jordan, the third member of The Happeners trio, ran into Smith in LA in 1977; he was homeless but did not display any mental health issues. He drifted in and out of mental hospitals until the mid-1980s when funding was cut, and would then spend the next years homeless. He also had various run-ins with the law. In 1981 or 1982 he saw another old friend and told her he had been recording music. He has been indeed recording music, according to Mike Stax, as late as the late 1990s, which includes the 1994 song "Waves", which was released on the 2018 CD version of the album Love is Our Existence. By the early 2000s his "ramblings" had moved from Eastern philosophy/his Maitreya Kali persona to aliens. Smith died on March 16, 2012. His family declined to collect his ashes, and they were eventually collected by journalist Mike Stax.

★ Apache (Released under the name Satya Sai Maitreya Kali) (Akashic Records, 1971)

01. Ice and Snow 03:25 02. Black Swan 02:50 03. Color Fantasy 03:51 04. Voodoo Spell 02:01 05. Salesman 02:55 06. Music Box 02:55 07. Love Is Our Existence 02:30 08. One Last Farewell 02:35 09. I'm Walkin' Solo 02:28 10. Silk and Ivory 03:05 11. Swim 02:43 12. Revelation 03:12

★ Inca (Released under the name Satya Sai Maitreya Kali) (United Kingdom of America Records, 1972)

01. Lights of Dawn 02:56 02. Thesis 02:46 03. Knot the Freize 12:31 04. Jesus Owns 01:32 05. Sam Pan Boat 03:18 06. Fearless Men 03:38 07. Cheryl 03:05 08. Country Girl 02:51 09. Old Man 03:47 10. King 00:08

#Apache #Craigh Smith #Maitreya Kali #Color Fantasy #03:50

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years

Text

Quarantine

Summary: After an accident at work leaves the reader exposed to a dangerous virus, she has has to spend two weeks in quarantine with her ex-boyfriend, Dean...

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x Nurse!reader

Square: Accidental Confession

Word Count: 2,700ish

Warnings: language, angst, fluff

A/N: Written for @spngenrebingo

“Two weeks!” you said, a pair of gloved hands pointing for you to continue walking down the hall. “You can’t stick me in quarantine for that long!”

“It’s just a precaution, mam’,” said the man in the sealed up tight rubber suit. You groaned, following him down the hall until you rounded a corner, spotting someone else sitting in the room you were going to be stuck in.

“I am not sharing a room with him for two weeks!” you said.

“Get in the room mam,” he said. You whined but walked ahead, knowing you had no other option. You saw Dean tilt his head up from one of the beds as you were led through a pair of special doors that sealed behind you. Another opened and you entered the room, yet another pair of doors sealing behind you.

“You have got to be kidding me,” said Dean, standing up and going to the door. “I want my own room!”

“There’s only the one room. You both have to stay in there for the next two weeks,” said the man through the glass wall. “You were given instructions on how to get anything you need and will be provided food on a regular schedule or at request. You will be monitored from the other window bay.”

“I already hate this,” you groaned, kicking at the door you knew wasn’t opening anytime soon. The man walked away and that small hallway quickly went black, your focus going to the wall of glass windows with people moving around on the other side.

“I got an idea. We don’t talk to each other,” said Dean.

“Fine with me.”

12 Hours Later

The light in the window bay was dimmer as only one woman sat behind a desk outside. It was late and you figured most people were gone home. Or they’d listened to Dean’s complaints to give the two of you at least a little privacy. He was laying on one of the hospital beds, tossing a ball against the far wall and catching it. You couldn’t stop pacing the room though, couldn’t get yourself to relax.

“You’re not claustrophobic. Why are you freaking out?” he asked without looking at you.

“Maybe because I potentially have a horrifying disease with no cure and am going to die very painfully,” you said.

“You always worried too much,” said Dean, tossing the ball over your head as you walked past.

“You were the worrier, not me,” you said.

“What were you doing up on the fifth floor anyways?” asked Dean, pausing when you didn’t answer. “You weren’t...coming to see me, were you?”

“As if. Coffee machine on fourth was broken,” you said. “No one ever goes to the doctors lounge on fifth so-“

“So that’s how we both got exposed to the lab accident down the hall,” he said, tossing the ball again. “Why don’t those assholes have to be stuck in here?”

“They were wearing suits and are being monitored at a secondary location,” said the woman over the intercom, both of you jumping.

“Eavesdropping much? So what, are we in the dying room?” asked Dean. The woman gave Dean a long look before she flipped off a switch, the intercom quiet again. “Well that answered that question.”

“What? You aren’t afraid?” you asked Dean.

“Not really,” he said. “I’m exposed to crap everyday and I never so much as get a cold. I’ll take my chances that I’ll be just fine.”

“So...you seeing anyone?” you said. Dean narrowed his eyes. “Or should I say, sleeping with anyone?”

“I can sleep with whoever I want,” he said.

“Sure. Just this time, make sure not to cheat on the poor girl,” you said.

“Is that why we broke up? You actually think I cheated on you?” he asked as he sat up. “I remember trying to talk to you about it but you just left, moved out while I was at work, never said a word to me again.”

“I knew you’d lie,” you said.

“You’re so fucking dumb. It’s a good thing we did end things,” he said.

“Don’t be mad because you got caught,” you said.

“Sure, whatever. I’m a cheater,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t try to talk to me about it or anything.”

“I saw the texts, idiot,” you spat back.

“I was planning a fucking surprise for you, idiot,” growled Dean.

“A fancy restaurant and hotel room? What, the ‘I’m dumping you for another woman’ surprise?” you scoffed.

“More like the ‘can my friend put that crap on her credit card so you don’t find out’ surprise,” he said.

“Nice excuse,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“It’s the truth,” he said.

“Yeah. I totally see why you would suddenly start acting shady and have other women buy hotel rooms for you,” you said.

“I was gonna ask you to marry me you dumbass. I was going to surprise you, go way overboard and all that romantic shit. But I guess I’m just some cheating scumbag that was wrong about the kind of woman I wanted to marry if she wouldn’t even talk to me about it,” he said.

You swallowed hard, staring at him.

“Oh? Got nothing to say?” he said.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” you said.

“Why did you assume I was a bad guy? You didn’t let me explain,” he said.

“I’m going to bed,” you said, plopping down on the mattress with your back to him.

You woke up with a headache, Dean quietly reading for most of the morning. By lunch you felt sweaty and were making excuses to run to the bathroom.

“Hey,” said Dean, making you jump in the shower when he came inside.

“What?” you asked, wrapping your arms around yourself. You peered around the shower wall at him, Dean closing the door behind him.

“You’re sick,” said Dean, reaching a hand out to your forehead.

“Don’t touch me. I might kill you,” you said, turning away.

“You aren’t that kind of sick. You’re anxious and it’s making you feel crappy which isn’t good for your immune system and considering our situation, that needs to be in working order,” he said. “We stow our crap for now, be civil.”

“I’m mad at me, not you,” you said.

“Well ease up before you actually get sick,” said Dean.

“We have worked in the same hospital for the past six months and you never once thought about coming to me?” you asked.

“I thought about it but...I thought you didn’t want me anymore. I was trying to respect it,” he said.

“You were gonna marry me?” you asked.

“Maybe it’s better this happened. We realized the kind of people we are,” he said.

“Yeah. I’m an idiot,” you said, resting your head against the shower wall.

“Even if you thought I lied, why didn’t you say something?” he asked.

“Dean-”

“You literally can’t run away from this conversation,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the door. “Talk.”

“Heather’s...pretty,” you said with a shrug. “I figured you were bored with me and wanted someone...better.”

“Heather is my friend and that is all she is,” said Dean. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t want you to humiliate me, alright? Everyone already knows I dropped out of the residency program because I couldn’t hack it. If you cheated on me with the pretty girl in our year too…” you said, cursing to yourself. “I wound up becoming a nurse. I couldn’t even-”

“Hey. A patient attacked you when your resident didn’t say anything about him being a psych case. Everyone understood when you didn’t want to be in med school anymore,” said Dean.

“Leave me alone, Dean. Please.”

Three Days Later

You were physically feeling better, the doctors saying that five days with no strange tests results yet was a good sign. But you were still stuck with Dean and he was doing his best to get you to talk again.

“I would never cheat on you, you know. I was yours til the day I died,” said Dean. “You just left.”

“I know that, Dean,” you gritted out, squeezing your stress ball for the millionth time that day.

“I can’t get over the fact you thought I cheated,” he said.

“Oh yeah. Well, you’re only a top surgical student and handsome and smart and funny and a bunch of other shit and we both know you settled for me because your mom was hounding you,” you said.

“You really think I thought so little of you?” he said.

“I think I’m stuck in here with you and I want to be on the other side of the planet right about now,” you said.

“You’ve thought I cheated on you for sixth months,” he said. “I know how you can twist things and let them get to you. I bet that one took the cake.”

“Just stop talking. Please,” you said, throwing your pillow over your head.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because it was easier to think it was your fault but it wasn’t, it was mine and on top of still not knowing if I’m going to die, I have all that guilt suddenly on me so I’m sorry I’m not in a chatty mood,” you said, curling up into a ball.

“Are you crying?” he asked.

“No,” you shot back, knowing you were two seconds from losing it. You swore you’d never cry over him again. But you felt a shudder run through you and then you were burying your face in your pillow, trying to take deep breaths.

“Y/N,” said Dean, a hand suddenly on your back. “It’s alright. I’ll shut up about it.”

“You never could stand it when I cried,” you said, wiping your face off. The bed dipped behind you, Dean’s back pressing up against yours.

“Well we both fucked up. I can’t be pissed at you for not talking to me when I gave up on trying to talk too,” he said, rubbing the spot between your shoulder blades.

“Don’t make me feel better,” you said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you can’t be so forgiving,” you said.

“There you go, assuming things about me again,” he said but there was no malice in it. Neither one of you said anything more until they started to dim the lights out in the hall. Dean went back to his own bed but he let you have his extra blanket, something he used to do when you were having bad days.

You sighed as you curled up into the thing, willing yourself to sleep.

“Have you been on a date since…” said Dean, tossing the ball to you from the other side of the room the next day.

“Nope. You?” you asked.

“Nope. Hard to find someone willing to deal with random shifts and my unique personality features,” he said. You laughed as you threw the ball back, Dean smiling.

“Unique personality features. I like that,” you said.

“Beats labeling yourself as a self-depreciator,” he said. “Girls aren’t attracted to that.”

“You beat yourself up too much,” you said.

“That’s something we always had in common,” he said. “Never seemed to scare you away though.”

“I see something in you that you can’t. Stuff you hate, I like,” you said with a shrug.

“I lost a patient a few months back. I could have really used you around,” said Dean after a moment.

“My dog died. Well, my parents dog,” you said.

“Skippy? You loved that dog,” he said.

“What are we doing Dean? We aren’t a couple anymore,” you said.

“Maybe we can try being friends again,” he said. “If I end up dying, I’d rather do it knowing we were friends again.”

“I thought you said you weren’t scared,” you said.

“I lied,” said Dean, tossing the ball back to you. “Friends?”

“No. I don’t deserve that,” you said.

“I thought I was the self-depreciating one,” he said. “Come on.”

“Okay,” you said, rolling over on your bed to face him. He gave you a smile from his own, your eyes shutting after a minute. “You know the patient wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Yeah. But it’s my job to save ‘em,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about work. Hey, did you ever go to Europe during the summer like you were planning?”

“No. I didn’t want to go,” you said.

“You were so excited though. What happened?” he asked.

“I was so excited to go with you. I never made reservations, just went home to my parents for a week instead,” you said.

“I’m leaving the hospital,” said Dean. You opened your eyes, Dean’s hair falling down over his forehead where it was jammed against the pillow. “Going to do a family practice. One of the docs over there retired and it being a family practice and all that, the benefits from the state, they pretty much pay your student loan off for you. They need more of ‘em. Plus there’s less stress, normal work hours...there’s an opening for a nurse there too. I was thinking of recommending this chick.”

“Who?” you asked.

“Who do you think?” he said. “You hated night shifts from day one of med school. What’s the harm?”

“Dean.”

“Y/N.”

“Slow. We can’t…we need to try and be friends first,” you said.

“Alright and we can be work friends too. We live, promise you’ll consider it,” he said.

“I promise,” you said.

“Okay. I can live with that.”

Three Weeks Later

“Dr. Winchester,” said Sally who’d been showing you around the office. “This is nurse Y/L/N. Today’s her first day. Dr. Winchester just started earlier this week.”

“Dr. Winchester hates being called doctor, don’t you,” you said with a smile.

“I keep telling Sally that but she don’t listen,” teased Dean. “Y/N and I go way back.”

“Oh really? That’s great. Dean you mind showing Y/N around the rest of the way? I got a toddler in three waiting for a lollipop,” said Sally.

“Sure thing,” said Dean, smiling at you once she took off. “So...glad to still see you around and kicking.”

“We both got clean bills of health. They said it was stress that made me feel crappy during it,” you said, Dean humming. “You uh, like it here?”

“Yeah. There’s not that competition bullshit we dealt with. No cliques and we all get to go home everyday at 4:30. It’s awesome,” he said.

“Wow, eight hour days. Not sure what’ll you do with having a life again,” you teased.

“Was thinking of asking this nurse if she wanted to come over for dinner tonight,” he said. You stared at him, Dean smiling. “I got your favorite pasta.”

“I thought we said friends,” you said.

“Yeah well I changed my mind. I was dumb, you were dumb. We didn’t talk and I’m not throwing away the best thing that ever happened to me over a misunderstanding. I’m not ready to be proposing right now but give me a few months. I just want to make you dinner again,” he said.

“I don’t know if I trust myself not to hurt you like that again,” you said.

“I trust you. Please. One date,” he said.

“...You get those breadsticks too?” you asked.

“Duh,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

“Alright. Six?” you asked.

“It’s a date, sweetheart.”

#spngenrebingo #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #one shot #dean fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #dean one shot #supernatural reader insert #au #doctor!dean #doctor!dean x reader

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wh-wh-whu · 3 years

Text

New story! Featuring my girl Violet, and set in a dystopic future in which people are getting more and more sick, and big companies in the healthcare market give the poor lifetime debts while offering to the rich all sorts of unnecessary procedures... oh wait.

CW: self-harm, scars, implied school bullying and childhood issues, non consensual drug use, objectification, female whumpee, female whumper, unrealistic science, eye injury, conscious during surgery, non consensual organ removal, and I think something that counts as depersonalization?

———

Violet entered her bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror but didn't look at it yet. Her eyes were down as her hands occupied themselves with the buttons on her shirt. Only when she was done undressing did she look at the mirror. The girl in there looked back at her in fear.

The girl caressed her own face, her fingers stopping close to her eyes. Violet felt her own cold fingers on her face. It was good, feeling something. The lilac of her irises always caught people's eyes. Violet stared at the girl in the mirror.

"You should stop wearing these colored lenses", her classmates in school used to say. "They look ridiculous." "You just want attention." It was almost a lifetime of hearing these things, sometimes from people she cared about, and it hurt. But right now, it hardly mattered for Violet anymore. This old life was all behind her.

The girl in the mirror turned to the side and reached for her short hair to lift it and expose the back of her neck. The black lines looked like a tattoo. The logo of the Drop Labs, and a barcode. The Doctor had explained it, straightforward and cold: she wasn't a person, she was a thing. A product created and patented by the Drop Labs.

Violet remembered her meeting with the Doctor. She doubted the woman was an actual doctor, but that was how everyone called her, the president of the Drop Labs. She remembered the coldness of her words, words that would never leave Violet's mind.

"You were made from chemicals manipulated in the labs. The project took over 20 years to be concluded. You don't have a father or a mother. Your cells come from nothing. You were not even carried by a woman, you spent the start of your existence in a machine that simulates a uterus. You may think otherwise, but in truth, it can't really be said you are alive, and if there are things such as souls, you certainly don't have one."

The face of the girl in the mirror showed the pain of the memories. Violet wouldn't cry, she had promised herself no more tears over this matter. There was nothing she could do to change it.

The girl let go of her hair and turned back to face Violet. Violet lowered her eyes to the scar on the girl's chest, an ugly, large thing. The girl touched its edge.

"We want to mass-produce things like you." The Doctor's voice was back in Violet's mind. "Think of the possibilities. Your body functions are so close to ours. We could use such things to test new medicine, new procedures."

"We could even use you to provide blood and organs."

Violet's watched the girl's fingers tracing the scar as her memories went back to three days previously. She could almost feel the strong hospital smell in the air.

---

The nurses had tied her up to a stretcher. The Doctor arrived, and though her face was serious, her lips still curled up slightly. "We are just making a test."

A nurse held Violet's arm. Their other hand held a syringe with some colorless liquid that they injected into Violet's arm with cold precision. She wanted to protest, to scream, to struggle against her restraints, but she couldn't...

"Don't worry. This... 'anesthesia'," was Violet seeing things, or had the Doctor's lips curled up even more as she said that? "Won't leave you unconscious. It will just restrain your movements, so you won't interrupt the procedure."

Violet could still see her, her eyes unable to close. She could still hear her. She could still feel the smell. The ties still felt too tight against her limbs. More people entered the room. They carried surgery instruments - torture instruments - the blades ready to cut.

Violet felt the cold metal on her skin. It took just a moment for it to start to cut. Then came the pain, the strongest pain she had ever felt. She tried to distract herself, to think of something else, anything. But her eyes were unable to close, she was unable to stop facing those masked faces.

Rubbery hands touched her skin and her insides. They had opened her chest, but it wasn't over yet. They kept cutting, the pain kept getting worse. A thought came to Violet's mind that they wanted to take something from her.

The pain was getting unbearable. The world became foggy. The last thing Violet saw - or at least she thought she did, she couldn't be sure anymore - was her own heart being pulled by those hands.

When she woke up, she was still tied up. The pain was nothing but a bitter memory. She couldn't move her arms or her legs, but with some effort, she managed to raise her head to take a look at herself. The only sign that everything hadn't been a very vivid, very painful nightmare was the scar on her chest.

"You were unconscious for less than two days," said the voice that was quickly becoming the sound Violet hated the most. "As soon as the extraction was done, your healing started. In twelve hours, your body was fully recovered. Your regenerative abilities are impressive." The Doctor leaned down, caressing Violet's face in a mockery of tenderness. Even Violet's mother - the woman the Doctor paid to pretend to be her mother for almost all her life - would have been able to give her more comfort.

"The patient thanks your collaboration, by the way. He had been waiting for a donation for years."

---

Violet leaned down against the sink, her face now closer to the girl's. The girl looked back at her as if challenging her. What now? What are you going to do? She had always known there was something wrong with her, something other than the bullshit rare disease they made up to justify the constant visits to the doctor, the blood tests, and all the other things she had to do since she was a child just so the Drop Labs could keep an eye on her. Now she knew what it was.

She opened a drawer, taking from it the sharp scissors she used on her hair. Using the tip, she cut the left side of her face, just enough to draw blood. She watched the drops spill down the girl's face, but the cut soon was gone.

It was true. Everything the Doctor had said was true. There was no hope left.

Violet turned the scissors to her left palm, stabbing it over and over. She watched every wound disappear right in front of her eyes. She was left with a bloody but unharmed hand.

She looked at the scissors, the tips of the silver blades covered in red. Violet felt an impulse and acted on it before she gave up. She stabbed her left eye, going in deeper this time. She cried, but it wasn't just a reflex. The physical pain was small near the weight of everything she heard from the Doctor or the thought of what her future would be like.

Violet sank down to the ground, hugging her knees, and just cried. She couldn't tell how long she just sat like that, but when the tears had dried the pain in her eye was already gone.

She stood up and looked at the girl's blood-stained face.

"Just a little longer. We can handle this just a little longer."

#whump #whump writing #sci fi whump #hospital whump #self healing whumpee #my writing #my series: violet #mine

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

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Jacco Macacao is a monkey.

Over the years, British children would delight over the “Jacko Monkey” toy they’d receive for Christmas or their birthdays. These stuffed monkeys were available for sale into the late 80s. Those who are more sentimental can find the Jacko monkeys on eBay.

It is no coincidence that the same moniker would be given to Michael Jackson at the same time.

He broke the records of the Beetles as a child with his brothers, otherwise known as the Jackson Five. America grew up with Michael and his family, with he and his brothers becoming the first sex symbols for black girls all over the country. These black fans no longer found themselves explaining to their white counterparts why the floppy, stringy hair, blue eyes, and their British accent simply was not enough to propel them into idol status in black households. The problem was when the Jackson 5 became the same young idols for young white girls.

But Michael remained the cute little boy, with the incredible voice, and those deep eyes that one could peer into his soul. He would state that’s why he wore sunglasses so often. Michael was talented and he would prove he was capable of great things. His album, “Off the Wall” proved that. However, he took home no hardware at the Grammys that year. Soon, he would prove them all wrong.

Meanwhile, The Greatest Entertainer of all Time would be reserved for a white artist. Or so they thought.

Then Michael grew into a man and released “Thriller”, setting the world on fire. There wasn’t a day that the press didn’t write about him, while he broke record after record. Thriller was doing numbers that no other album had ever done. He was becoming a living legend, doing things like filling stadiums with thousands and thousands of screaming fans. Those who believed that the British Invasion was a scene that could not be topped, didn’t see the little boy from Gary, Indiana coming.

What would white America think about that?

Racism and the Press

The Civil Rights Act was signed into law. A year later, the Voting Rights Act followed. However, blacks were still asked to walk though the back door of a white person’s home. Many white people believed that as a country, we had done enough about the race problem, but many of them fled to the suburbs just twenty years later after rejecting integration outright.

Now, just twenty years later, their children were putting black artists on their walls. They were not willing to embrace the ideals of keeping the races separate. This new generation wasn’t interested in keeping the old prejudices alive. They were interested in good music and exploring new cultures. There was hope. There was just one of the old vanguards that hadn’t received the new memo: That was the press.

Michael was an interesting character at first. An anomaly. He didn’t act the way they expected most black men to act. Like his contemporary Prince, they were not sure what to make of him.

But Michael’s career exploded into the stratosphere with his album, “Thriller”, the biggest selling album of all time and they were forced to deal with him.

The short film, “Thriller” was about an all-American man who turned into a beast. The squeaky-clean Michael who didn’t drink or curse, soon became a weirdo in front of our eyes. A strange man who did strange things. For a while, that caricature held, until 1993 when the first allegations against Michael took hold. Without a shred of evidence, they turned a man who they had praised for years into a monster.

Racist

Time and time again, Michael beat the charges that were laid against him. His accusers defeated themselves with their ridiculous antics in and outside the courtroom. To unbiased observers, they saw the charges against Michael for what they truly were; vindictive extortion. But with no evidence to back their claims, they simply slithered back into the shadows. These people were so thoroughly discredited that even the media stopped calling them for interviews.

However, they would never be able to leave Michael alone. Not even after death. The old drumbeats began to flare again. Michael was guilty, they told us but they still couldn’t prove it. The accusers had openly perjured themselves in court many times, but none of that mattered.

Michael was another guilty black man. He was guilty of escaping the justice system that had convicted so many like him. He was guilty of making the media look foolish, when they were unable to convict him. He was guilty in their eyes and that’s all that mattered.

In the Beginning

The emasculation of black men began on the slave ships, as black slaves were raped, often in front of black men. This act of emasculation continued for centuries, as white men would rape black slaves whenever they felt like it. Even after slavery ended, this emasculation would continue with black women being raped, but a national incident would begin if a black man slept with a white woman. It would be enough for that black man to be lynched.

Fast forward to today, the media and others had tried to steal his blackness away, claiming he wasn’t black simply because he had a disease. The arrogance one must have to believe one has that ability to steal away one’s entire racial identity, simply because they could.

They knew they could and get away with it. America’s racial reckoning would not happen until a few years after his death. Had he lived longer, he would’ve known a more “woke” America. This more politically correct America would hesitate before making fun of someone for having a disease. This more “woke” America could never take away his “blackness”. This more “woke” America would have more people speaking out on his behalf and saying that this simply isn’t right. How do I know? These are things that are going on now.

This America would also never have Wade or James as “victims”. They wouldn’t have the guts to make baseless accusations against a man who gave them everything.

The real beast was let loose in his life. The real beast was the media.

The media was thoroughly racist. They were the children of those who had stood outside and picketed integration. They were the children who had grown up watching Bloody Selma on television. However, they would make their careers on the backs of their own fearmongering.

They stood outside Michael’s trial in 2005 and looked at his fans as if they were dangerous lunatics that deserved to be locked up. They didn’t realize that Michael’s fans were also consumers of mass media, so that when the media needed people to pay attention to their more serious stories like what was going on in the White House, less of the American populace would believe them. This allowed for a demagogue to claim “fake news” whenever he wanted. The media spent too much time on stories like Michael’s plastic surgery, Jesus Juice, and giving credibility to people real journalists would’ve shunned. They didn’t realize or had forgotten that Michael fans were also consumers of mass media and that they would have a hard time deciphering the truth from fiction. It was the media alone who should be held responsible for the erosion of trust in its own institutions. These were clearly self-inflicted wounds.

They poked through the crumbs they could find of Michael’s personal life, showing grotesque interest in things like Michael’s sexuality and even the size of his penis, bringing back a century old notion that the slave trade brought us. The examination of the bodies of black men. The preoccupation of the size of the sexual organs of black men. They picked at his skin color, with the same fascination that racist whites who practiced eugenics just a century and a half ago.

“Could a black man turn white?” they asked. Henry Moss was one of the first documented cases of a black man with vitiligo. Doctors studied his case as he made his body available to medical students.

A early century vitiligo patient

But this curiosity could not be limited to just medical students. For a shilling, one could line up in Philadelphia, to see this once black man turn into a white man. He became a “Great Curiosity”. After thirty-eight years, this black man suddenly began to turn white. In 1796, the public found themselves transfixed by this attraction. Even George Washington, the nation’s first president, paid to see him.

He would go on to tour several American cities, enduring endless racism and discrimination, and be treated like a sideshow instead of a human being.

In the 19th century, it was believed black people could turn white through vitiligo.

This story should sound familiar by now.

Some early thinkers were afraid that this could portend the end of slavery, which was dangerous and not a sign of progress. Others set out to prove that those with vitiligo were not white.

As time went on, society never quite figured out what to do with those who had vitiligo. Until Michael came along. Their ridicule was based in this old racism. This man came along and upset the natural order of things. Since they had nothing and no one to challenge him on the virtue of his talent, their only weapon was to make him so different, they would turn him into a caricature of himself. He would no longer be Michael Jackson, he would be “Wacko Jacko”, a figure of their imagination, which turned out to be convenient when the child sex abuse allegations came up.

Another picture…

The man who was once the all-American boy who had a dream to be the greatest, had turned into the monster of their nightmares.

The monster lurking behind every black man in America. That same caricature that had lived in the imaginations of white people for so long.

“Don’t ever be alone with one, even if you know ’em well.” That was the advice taught to every white girl growing up.

“They’ll turn on you, even when you’re good to ’em. You can’t trust em.’

The imaginations of the nearly all-white news media had run wild and truth no longer mattered.

In their eyes, Michael had become the monster. The truth was that he was a human being. Despite becoming the greatest entertainer of all time, he still had to face incredible amounts of racism whether from the press or from the record companies that didn’t want to take orders from this successful black man.

Racism….

The picture they tried to paint of Michael was the caricature and completely divorced from reality. Those that knew him said that he was a regular guy, extremely shy and incredibly generous. His legacy is still being targeted by those seeking money and fame, but now there seems to be some push back from those who are finally seeing the truth. The more we speak out, the more we can shovel through all the falsehoods and finally reach the truth; Michael was a human being who was incredibly talented. He was a father first, and he raised wonderful children. His music lives on forever and so does his legacy.

It bears stating that many who tried to make a career off Michael’s name will be forgotten mostly when they’ve gone as leeches and hangers on. While Michael is vindicated. We will see them for what they truly are; racist.

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chocoholicannanymous · 4 years

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(Take) These Broken Wings (Glee) 8/?

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and you couldn’t pay me enough to take responsibility for it.

Post BIOTA: For someone who’d claimed to be his friend Blaine’s behavior sure left a lot to wish for. Hurt and angry Kurt begins to question his situation – and what he can do to change it.

POV: Kurt Hummel. Pairings: kurtofsky, blainchel. Slightly shady relationship-consent. Not Blaine friendly (no suprise at all).

So, not only do you get another chapter already (I know, what happened?) but it’s a long one. You’re welcome. Here’s hoping I can keep this up!

Previous: Part 7, Part 6, Part 5, Part 4, Part 3, Part 2b, Part 2a, Part 1

8/?

“Mr Schue? Before we get started I have an announcement I'd like to share.”

While most of the New Directions grumbled Rachel ignored them and stood up. Kurt on his part was looking sharply at her, because something was off. Not only had Rachel not mentioned having a song, she hadn't left the seats to stand by the piano.

Yeah, something was up.

“Blaine and I have broken up. I listened to what you were saying, and I have been thinking hard about it, and the truth is that being in rival show choirs was just too big of a stressor on our relationship as was the fact that us being a couple made it so that you all couldn't trust me. It was a hard decision, but I couldn't do anything else. We're going to try and be friends still, of course, but that's all.

“Thank you for listening to me, and for showing me understanding in these trying times.”

With that she sat down, looking demure, and Kurt shook his head a little – a move he got away with only by sitting in the back row.

The only surprising thing here – besides Rachel not taking the opportunity to perform – was how long the breakup had taken. There had even been a betting pool, and “blainchel” (which really, it sounded like a venereal disease) had surpassed every single bet.

Even Santana, who Kurt felt should have been the most supportive in regards to bisexuality, had put them down at two weeks at the most.

He hadn't participated himself, for a number of reason, and in the end was probably the least surprised one.

Yes, Blaine and Rachel had been a very bad fit, but they'd also had a lot of reasons to stay together. Rachel hadn't exactly been subtle in her attempts to rub her new boyfriend in Finn's face, and Blaine... Well, Blaine had had something to prove hadn't he? After all Kurt, had basically called his attempt at dating Rachel a sham and Blaine had not liked that.

There was also Blaine's hints to Burt Hummel that his own dad had tried to make him straight.

Blaine definitely had something to gain from a continued relationship with a girl.

Oh, Rachel probably hadn't been the best choice for that, seeing as the two were not all that compatible. They were just too similar, equally eager for the spotlight, equally needy for attention.

Even if Blaine had decided he was attracted to girls- and Kurt still wasn't sure that was the case – Rachel would always be too occupied with her own need to be admired to give Blaine what he needed.

Case in point? It had taken one week for Rachel to announce a breakup after having being told off for Blaine being a risk for the New Directions. One. Week. She'd spent their entire relationship telling everyone who would stand still – and quite possibly a few that wouldn't – that her relationship with Blaine was all but written in the stars, as would their names be in the future. Together, of course, as they were just such a suited couple, both with the same dreams and ambitions and goals.

And yet as soon as Rachel thought said relationship was risking her solos Blaine was gone. In a fit of cruelty Kurt thought that they both had been looking more for a “biggest fan” than a partner.

Regardless, they were over now and Kurt hoped that it meant he wouldn't have to be subjected to Blaine again.

He cleared his mind of them both – such a waste of valuable seconds – and instead switched from pretending to listen to Mr Schue to actually doing so as the man described the latest development in their quest to not fuck up at Nationals. Oh, he didn't it call it that, but Kurt was fairly adept at translating Mr Scue-isms to reality by now.

Things are about to become interesting...

Kurt perked up and watched Rachel like a hawk. It would be very telling how she reacted to what Mr Schue was about to say – or at least, what Kurt believed the man was about to say based.

“So! To that end I've recruited some more members. Now, they won't be here until next week since I wanted to give you guys a heads up first, and I hope you'll welcome them.”

Eight Cheerios, two of them guys. Five Titans. Exactly the kind of people who never would have signed up on their own, and who most of the Glee kids would never want to sign up.

Everyone turned to stare at Rachel and when she stayed quiet – though, Kurt thought, not without a fight – they looked at him instead.

“What? Are you waiting for me to protest or what, faint in fear or something? We need the numbers, and it's not like we've done that great a job at recruiting on our own. I've worked with the Cheerios and while I can't speak for their singing each and everyone of them mean we can kick our choreography up another notch.

“As for the guys from the Titans... Well. I am going to trust that they're smart enough to not just follow directions – which they clearly managed during the halftime show – but also leave any ideas of bullying outside this room. After all, McKinley's supposed to be free from that now.”

“But, but, Karofsky's one of them!”

Which Kurt already knew. Dave had told him both about being approached and about considering it – It'll look good on college applications. Make me “well rounded” or some shit like that – and Kurt hadn't seen a problem with it. The opposite in fact. After all, Glee had helped turn Finn and Puck around (in varying degrees) and Kurt liked to think that it'd help do the same for more jocks.

“So? I'm sorry, Mercedes, but I am not seeing a problem here. Dave Karofsky has apologized to me. He has made promises to not just me, but to this school, and so far he's kept them. He has been part of my escort around school ever since I came back, and not once has he given me reason to fear him.

“If any of you want to have an issue with him, or any one of the others, joining us that's your right. Just don't expect to use me as a weapon in that fight. Because to be frank? Right now Dave Karofsky has done more to balance his scales than at least half the people in this room.”

And that shut them all down, just as Kurt had know it would.

Curiously, Rachel didn't say a word the entire time.

Another week and a half went by before the other shoe dropped.

It did so in the form of a phone call.

It wasn't a number from his contact list, but Kurt had thought it familiar so he answered anyway. He regretted it immediately.

“Kurt, hello.”

“Blaine.” Why? What did I do to deserve this?

“I was hoping we'd be able to meet up tomorrow, say at the coffee shop two blocks from Dalton? Would 2 o'clock suit you?”

Kurt had to struggle to make his voice work. Not only was Blaine calling him, but he wanted to meet? Was he asleep? Was this a nightmare brought on as punishment for having had a second slice of cheesecake after dinner? He pinched himself, and no, that hurt.

No such luck then.

“I'm sorry, but I have other plans tomorrow. Besides, I can't see what we would have to say to each other.” I definitely said everything I was willing to last time I saw you.

“Come on, Kurt. Don't be like that. Just come tomorrow.”

“Did you not hear me? I have other plans. I'd say sorry, but I'm actually not. Goodbye Blaine.”

When the doorbell rang shortly after 10 the next morning Kurt considered not opening. Somehow he wouldn't be surprised to find out that Blaine had called Rachel to complain about Kurt being mean, or unreasonable, and that she'd come to lecture him about kicking someone who was already down. The problem was that if it was Rachel then not opening would lead to either her ringing the bell again and again until Finn woke up and came to open or her being a bitch in school.

Neither was appealing, so he sighed and went to open.

Pro: It wasn't Rachel. Con: It was Blaine.

“Good morning Kurt.”

“What are you doing here? I told you I have plans.”

“Well, I knew you weren't being honest about that. Mercedes is at Rachel's, having some girl-time.”

Kurt waited for something more, anything, but nothing came.

“So what, you think I have no one to spend time except those two? Nice. I'm sure you'll be happy to find out that's not true. Also, there is such a thing that having plans on your own.”

“But if you're just doing something on your own then surely that can wait, and you can spend some time with me instead.”

“I suppose it could,” and Blaine's smile practically radiated superiority, “if I was doing something on my own, and if I wanted to spend time with you.”

The smile vanished.

“Kurt.”

It was just his name, but Kurt could hear so many things in it. “I'm disappointed in you.” “You're being ridiculous.” Too bad for Blaine that Kurt's done listening to those silent rebukes.

“I don't understand why you're pushing this. The last time I saw you at Dalton we hadn't spoken in weeks. Because you didn't want to.”

“You hurt me!”

“And I have apologized for that. Publicly even. After, I might add, trying to do so repeatedly. I didn't mean to hurt you, or make you feel like I was some kind of phobic, hateful person.

“You on the other hand meant for the other Warblers to shut me out, didn't you? So I guess we're even. I hurt you, you hurt me.”

“See? That means we can start over!”

“No, it doesn't. That's not something I want in my life, Blaine, that balance of payback. That's not healthy, and it doesn't end. After all, what happened was I said something stupid, which I said because I was hurt and angry, and that then made you hurt and angry, which made you act in a way that made me – again – hurt and angry.

“It's a vicious circle, and not one I want or need in my life.”

“Are you saying we can't be friends again? That we couldn't be...more?”

And wow, that came out of left field. It did explain a few things though, like why Blaine had gone so far as to go to Kurt's home though.

Huh.

Blaine was asking him out? Not that long ago that would have made Kurt deliriously happy, and he would have said yes before Blaine even finished the sentence. Now however, now was...different.

When Blaine had fallen head over heels for Jeremiah he’d serenaded the older boy and talked about marriage – all based on a few coffee dates, that Jeremiah hadn’t even seemed to think of as dates.

When Blaine had dated Rachel he’d done so based on drunken kisses and duets. He’d showed up at McKinley at least twice a week, to take her out for lunch or coffee, and always took her to the movies and Breadstix during the weekends. He’d sung to her as well, both in the choir room and backed up by the Warblers out in the quad.

And Kurt? Kurt got an offer for coffee in Westerville after weeks of silence, which wasn't even presented as a possible date. Only a question if they couldn't be something more than friends – and that much only after Kurt pushed. And there hadn't been even a hint of an apology for Blaine's behavior.

“Really? That's where you're going now? You and Rachel broke up, what? A week and a half, two weeks ago? And now you want to date me?”

“Why? Why now, when you weren't the least bit interested before?”

Blaine opened his mouth, probably to protest, which, no. Not acceptable.

“Don't. Back at Dalton everyone knew I liked you. Hell, you knew I liked you – I told you. But you weren’t interested in me. And that’s okay, really. Not liking someone is your prerogative. Just as everything else you’ve done. Sure, you could have changed your mind, that happens, but why now? You didn’t see me as a potential boyfriend until I left Dalton and moved on.

“So I really have to ask why? Especially since you haven't apologized for a single thing you said and did before I left. In fact, you came here still pushing that I hurt you.

“To be brutally honest, it feels as if you’re trying to guilt me into dating you. I said some things that were hurtful and rude, but I did apologize. You don’t get to hold that over my head for the rest of my life, okay? That’s just not how things work.”

Kurt took a deep breath, trying to reign in his emotions.

“We both messed up. Sure, it’s not a competition, but that’s just the way it is.”

Wait...

The coffee shop Blaine had suggested was one Kurt had been curious to try, and he had hinted at going there several times. Blaine had never wanted to go there though, but now he'd suggested it. Maybe he'd done so to please Kurt, and a couple of months ago that would have made Kurt ecstatic. Now it just made him angry. Also very suspicious. Me thinks there's something rotten in the state of Lima...

“Wait. If you were angling for a date, why make me drive all the way to Westerville? We both live here, and I know you don't usually stay at Dalton during the weekends. So why not ask me to meet up at the Lima Bean? The cinema here is a lot better than you'd think, so why not suggest a movie? Or you could have really signaled that you intended it to be a date and made reservations for dinner at Breadstix. I know you are capable of that.

“You had so many options, and instead you want to go to a coffee shop you dissed repeatedly while we were still on speaking terms and insisted we go to the Lima Bean instead. Why?”

Quiet.

“Tell me, or leave.”

Blaine pouted a little at being questioned, but broke down quickly.

“It wouldn't be fair to Rachel to go on dates here. I just can't do that to her. You know what people are like, what they say to her. What do you think they'd say if her boyfriend went from dating her to seeing another guy?”

Kurt hated to admit it, but Blaine did have a point. He could imagine exactly what people would say much to well. Understanding that didn't mean accepting being given only crumbles though.

“So you're saying...what? That protecting Rachel from possible fallout is more important than making me feel valued? At what point would your breakup be far enough in the past for a date that doesn't mean leaving town? At what point would you stop treating me like your dirty secret?”

Kurt looked at the boy he'd thought was Prince Charming and felt empty. Even as he was asking Kurt out Blaine was putting Rachel's comfort and reputation over his. And apparently that meant he wasn’t going to openly date another boy in Lima. Or was that “openly date Kurt in Lima”? Whichever it was, it still hurt.

“You matter” his dad voice whispered in his head, yet Kurt couldn’t help but feel that he didn’t. Not to Blaine. Because if he did, then surely Blaine wouldn’t act ashamed of him?

All this, after having been strung along and rejected for over six months before finally saying enough.

The sad part, the horrible part? Blaine seemed certain it’d work. Not that Kurt didn’t see why – he had, after all, been absolutely pathetic when it came to begging for Blaine’s attention.

Kurt wasn’t sure what was most pathetic now though: the fact that a part of him still wanted to say yes, just to have a boyfriend, or that the only thing holding him back was the boy who’d bullied him, and who’d sent him running towards Blaine in the first place.

He could see himself accepting Blaine’s proposition, could see himself going out with the other boy, pitifully thankful for someone actually asking him out, and just ignoring all the reasons why he shouldn’t. Sure, he was sort of doing the same when it came to Dave, but there was a difference: Dave wasn’t angling to be his boyfriend. Also, with Dave he had an easy way out. There wouldn’t be one with Blaine – not for him.

He looked at Blaine and shook his head. This was pointless.

“Don't bother answering. I am not going to go out with you regardless. Thanks but no thanks, I guess.”

Blaine's blush increased and he started spluttering out a protest of some kind (at least that's what Kurt interpreted it as.)

“Look. I'd like you to leave now. I have, as I've said repeatedly, plans. I don't want to be late because of you.”

“Late? Are you actually meeting someone? Who?”

“Nice to know you think so low about my ability to find people to socialize with. Not that it's really any of your business, but after everything that had been happening I decided I wanted to try and meet more LGBT youth. I had no idea there were so many people I could connect with around here.”

It had been heady, finding all of these teenagers that could relate to what he had gone through growing up, and who were willing to accept him as he was. Not all of them were out, but that meant less to him these days. Besides, when the lion's part of communication and socializing happened online “out” became a completely different thing.

Of course, he wasn't actually meeting any of them now, but Blaine didn't need – or deserve – to know that he was meeting Dave.

“Really? That's great! I could go with you, it'd be great.”

Sigh. There apparently was no way getting through to Blaine that didn't include a verbal version of a 2 by 4.

“No. I have plans. You are not invited. And quite frankly, I can't imagine anyone of my new acquaintances appreciating someone else tagging along without warning. You see, I learned something really important from you. It was something I already knew, but didn't really get. So, I guess thank you for driving the lesson home.”

“And what lesson was that?” Blaine looked a little cautious, which indicated that yes, he actually had a functioning brain.

“You don't out people. Goodbye Blaine.”

And he closed the door, without slamming it – he was tempted, yes, but the way his luck was running he'd crack it or something.

Kurt waited 15 minutes before leaving, just in case Blaine was standing outside waiting to ambush him. Still, as he pulled out of the driveway he kept an eye out for Blaine's car. And there it was.

It was just so Blaine. He had been told, explicitly, that he wasn't welcome to join Kurt and whoever he was meeting – a person Kurt had hinted pretty heavily wasn't out. And Blaine had just decided none of that mattered because he wanted differently. Selfish bastard. He was going to deserve everything Kurt was planning on raining down on him.

Going to the garage was a detour, and not one Kurt really wanted to spend time on, but it was his best bet when it came to getting away.

It being a Saturday meant that Hummel Tires & Lube was running on a minimal staff, for planned jobs and emergencies only. That meant there was plenty of space for Kurt to pull into the fenced yard and park behind the garage. Next he walked through the building, waving at his dad, and peeked through the window. Yup, there he is. Blaine had parked so that he'd be able to see if Kurt left – or so he thought.

“What are you doing here, buddy? I thought you were meeting up with some of your internet friends?”

“Yeah, I am. Only it seems I picked up a stalker.”

Burt looked at him, sharp and worried.

“Mhm. Blaine – from Dalton, remember? – showed up at the house, and for some reason he thought I should agree to go out with him.”

“I thought you said he wasn't interested like that.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought too. After all, not only did I not even try to be subtle, but in the end I straight out told him. His response to that was – more or less – to start dating Rachel. I haven't really spoken to him since he called me a bully for not being supportive enough of that.

“He froze me out completely after that, even though I tried to apologize so many times, and that didn't change after I left.

“Only now he and Rachel broke up, and apparently Blaine thinks I'm still waiting around for him to notice me. I don't know why, because I'm not that much of a doormat, but he sure seems to think so.”

Burt gave him another sharp look.

“You sure about that? Because to me it looks like you were willing to put up with a lot – not just from him either – to get a boyfriend.”

Kurt blushed. He was well aware of his mistakes. Falling at Blaine's feet again was not going to be one of them though.

“Damned sure, dad. If Blaine hadn't insisted on dating Rachel first, then I probably would have agreed. But now? After being passed over not once, but twice? No thank you. Yes, I want a boyfriend. But I deserve someone who will look at me first, not as a backup once all other options have been explored.”

Because that was how Blaine made him feel. Like he was the living version of “two last people on earth”, and damnit if he didn't matter more than that.

“Okay. That's fair. I'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself. Now, what about stalking?”

“Well, when I told him that not only did I not want to go out with him but I also had plans – which I had told him when he called yesterday – he tried to invite himself along. Then he followed me here. After I told him he wasn't invited to come along, and that I had no intention of outing the person I was meeting.”

Kurt watched his dad's face turn red, and felt a bit guilty. His dad's heart attack wasn't too far back, after all. But. Needs must.

“Want me to talk to him?”

“Would you? I would be so grateful. And if you'd let me go out through the back I'd be even more so.”

Because that was why he had gone there, in the hopes of using the locked back gate few people thought about. Blaine would most likely never guess to its existence, and even if he did Kurt would be able to leave while Burt Hummel gave “the prep school stalker” a piece of his mind.

As Kurt drove off he kept thinking about Blaine's actions over the past 24 hours. It made no sense. Blaine really had treated him like the last resort. The faithful dog that would come crawling back for petting even after being kicked. And that really wasn't Kurt. Except...

He'd thought Blaine and Rachel a bad match because they both wanted to be the center of attention, something neither of them would get from the other. Kurt however had always been so happy to admire Blaine that he'd constituted a fanclub all on his own. And that, right there, held what Kurt saw as the possible explanation as to why Blaine was now looking to date him instead of one of Dalton's mythological gay or bi boys.

Kurt would have – before the shunning – been happy to make Blaine the most important thing in his life. And as he'd been shown over and over again, most people would never have looked at Kurt when Blaine was there.

Thirty minutes later, stretched out on a picknick blanket with a deliciously heavy body pressed against him Kurt smiled into kisses because Dave? Dave would never look at Blaine if Kurt was around.

Monday mornings were always a downer – coming from freedom and peace to McKinley was never fun, not even with the lessened bullying. This Monday however was in the running for most annoying of the year. In one word: Rachel.

She was laying in wait for him at his locker and started her attack as soon as he was within hearing.

“Kurt? Blaine told me he asked you out, and you turned him down? Why would you do something like that? Surely he must have misunderstood you?”

Blaine again. Kurt was beginning to wish for a time machine so he could go back and tell himself to stay as far away from Blaine as possible at all times.

“I was asking myself that same question for a bit, but if he's saying I turned him down then apparently he did get the message.”

She frowned, obviously not pleased.

“Look, Kurt, I know you have all these ideas about love at first sight and all that, but honestly? You have to be realistic. So it took Blaine some time to get to the point of asking you out – but do you really think it’s fair to punish him for that? You should give him a chance. After all, this is Lima – who else is going to–”

“What? ‘Who else is going to go out with me’, was that what you were going to say?”

And why wouldn’t she? This was Rachel Berry. Tact wasn’t one of her strengths – maybe not one of her character traits at all – and neither was empathy. This is Lima, remember? Remember what Dave said about you being his only option?

“Honestly? I know that this is Lima, and I know what that means. Hell, I was sure I’d have to wait until college to get a boyfriend, and you know what? I’m okay with that. I have more respect for myself than to go out with someone just because they ask” or at least I want to have “and I definitely have too much self-respect to go out with a guy that acts like I’m something to be hidden away and he’s only asking me because he’s out of options. You might not care about me and my happiness, Rachel, but I do.

“Yes, I turned Blaine down. Yes, I meant it. And no, I’m not regretting it.

“And frankly? It's more than a little pathetic for Blaine to have his ex try and sell him to someone new – even disregarding everything. It's also not at all attractive.”

The problem with Rachel Berry – be honest, Kurt, one of many problems – was that she was a lot more dangerous than she looked, and she didn't care about casualties as long as she got what she wanted. Well, he was not going to let one of those casualties be Finn.

“No, Quinn isn't cheating on you. I don't care what Rachel says, because unlike her I actually know what's happening. Yes, Quinn is doing something that she's not telling you about. No, that something isn't making out with her ex-boyfriend.”

“Then why isn't she being honest with me about what she's up to?”

“Because it's not her secret to tell. It's not mine either, so don't look at me like that. We all know you have a problem with keeping secrets. Not because you're a gossip, or untrustworthy, but because sometimes you forget who is and who isn't in on something. So, do you think you can trust me when I say that I know what's going on, Rachel's completely wrong, and you have nothing to worry about? Because I promise you, if Quinn was cheating on you I would tell you.

“Rachel's just stirring up shit, hoping that you'll dump Quinn and come back to her now that she and Blaine's over.”

“You promise?”

And Kurt's heart hurt as he looked at the boy that'd become his brother. Finn had believed Rachel's trash-talk because he was so used to being cheated on – and cheating himself – that he didn't know how to expect anything else.

“I promise. Now, want to help me finish up dinner?”

Crisis adverted. Hopefully.

Of course it wasn't that easy. Finn refusing to go along hadn't stopped Rachel – if anything it'd made her even more determined to dig up some kind of dirt. And in her wake had come Jacob ben Israel and his damned camera and pictures in the fucking Muckraker. He liked Sue Sylvester more than most students, and felt he owed her to a degree, but this was crossing a line he wasn't going to forgive in the first place.

Not from anyone involved.

And of course it all came to blows in Glee. Even worse? The newly recruited members were there to witness.

He'd been happy to see their numbers increase, but now he found himself wishing that Mr Schue had been as ineffectual as usual so that there hadn't been quite as large an audience to Sam's humiliation.

“No. Sam, you don't owe them an explanation. You don't owe anyone anything. Rachel's inability to keep her nose out of other people's business did this, not you or I. McKinely isn't safe for LGBT students and she knows it. She also knows that it doesn't matter if someone's actually LGBT or not, just what people believe. What Jacob ben Israel posted could have landed you in the hospital or worse, and Rachel was the one who led him there.

“Won't your dads be proud of you, Rachel, knowing what you've done?”

“I haven't done anything wrong! Quinn was the one sneaking around on Finn–”

“Shut up, Rachel. She wasn't doing anything wrong – she was being a good person. Remember what that is?”

Rachel wasn't the only one whose mouth fell open as Finn spoke. Quinn looked happy as she sent him a soft smile, and Kurt, Kurt was so damned proud of his brother.

“Finn!”

“No. Look, what I did to Sam–”

“We.”

“Fine, what we did to Sam was shitty. Yet somehow he and Quinn managed to keep some level of trust and friendship, and that's just... Awesome. And I am not enough of an asshole to get in the middle of that. I trust Quinn, and I trust Sam, and you don't get to say otherwise.

“As for Kurt, yeah, you don't get to say shit about that either. Sam's never been anything but cool with Kurt, unlike the rest of us, and I thought you of all people should know better than this.”

And wow, Finn had really worked on his “disappointed in you” look. It was quite frankly amazing. The others seemed to think so too, judging from how they reacted as Finn slowly turned to meet everyone's eyes.

“I hope I don't have to explain to anyone exactly how not at all acceptable it is to spread this shit around the school. I know I'd hate to end up in detention for fighting with a team mate, or for getting into it with a girl.” “That doesn't mean I won't” hung in the air, just as loud as if Finn had actually said it out loud.

“Mr Schue? Could we get back to what we're supposed to be doing here?”

And of course since it was Finn asking that was exactly what happened.

Kurt spent the rest of practice seething.

Rachel was waiting for him by the Nav after Glee, which meant she'd put on some really impressive speed to beat him there.

“Kurt. You have to listen to me. Finn doesn't understand how dangerous it can be, being LGBT in a town like this, but you and I, we do. You know how much danger Sam will be in if people think you are seeing him.

“There are already people whispering about you turning him gay, or worse. You remember what it was like before. Do you realize how bad this is for Sam? He could get hurt – someone could hurt him, because of this. Because of you. Do you really want that for him?”

“Of course I don't, but–”

It was like speaking to a wall, except less effective.

“I just...I think you should try and distance yourself from whatever it is that you think that the two of you have going on. You should get a boyfriend.”

And there it was. Find a boyfriend. Next she’d be pushing Blaine on him again.

Anyone else, Mercedes or Tina or Brittany or yes, even Santana, and he’d have been willing to think they were looking out for him, and Sam. But this was Rachel, and he knew her too well for that.

Maybe Rachel really did care about Sam, but, Kurt knew, for Rachel Berry it was always about her in the end. Apparently once her romantic relationship with Blaine was over they’d allowed it to morph into some strange symbiotic friendship – which Kurt felt was probably less than healthy.

Blaine wanted Kurt to go out with him, and that meant Rachel wanted it too, meaning it should happen. After all, not getting what they wanted lessened the duos’ focus on being stars, or something like that.

Also – and okay, he had no proof for that part except for experience, but that was valuable enough – if Kurt wasn’t around Sam Rachel could focus on the fact that Quinn was, could try again to drive a wedge between the blonde and Finn, hopefully leaving Finn free for the taking.

Too bad Kurt wasn’t going to cooperate then.

“Look, Rachel, even if I did find a boyfriend it wouldn’t stop me from being friends with Sam, from spending time with him. In fact, any boyfriend worth the trouble would never try to stop me from that. And it’s not like something as simple as me staying away or the truth is going to stop the gossiping jerks of McKinley. It never has before.”

They'd both been subjected to enough gossip to know that, after all.

“Also, seriously Rachel? This is only a problem because of you. You had no business sneaking around and spying, and you most definitely had no right spreading those rumors. If someone hurts Sam because of that it won’t be my fault, it’ll be yours and Jacob ben Israel's. After all, we kept a low profile for a reason. No one would know about us being friends outside of the choir room if not for you and your big mouth and your damned stalking.”

“Then you need to do something about it! We'll find a girl to go out on a couple of dates with Sam – I'm sure Mercedes would be willing. And Blaine is still interested in you, all you have to do is stop playing hard to catch. This isn't the time to let your hurt feelings run the show, Kurt, this is when you need to be better than that.”

And wow, really? Did she crack completely while I wasn't looking?

“Thanks for that suggestion, Rachel. Now would you mind moving, I would like to get out of here.”

Except he couldn't stop thinking about everything. It all went round and round in his head, until the pieces started falling together in a very ugly pattern.

Twenty minutes after leaving Rachel behind in the parking lot Kurt rang the doorbell at the Berrys.

“Kurt! I knew you'd come to your senses! I have the perfect suggestion for you to–”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“What?”

“Did. You. Do. It. On. Purpose? Did you lead Jacob there on purpose? Did you plan this, Rachel?”

The words were coming out louder and louder, dripping with bitterness, until he was practically shouting.

Hiram Berry came running in to the hallway, took one look at his daughter backed up against a wall and the furious Kurt, and started trying to defuse the situation. Kurt wasn't having it though.

“I'm not leaving without an answer, Rachel. I also don't have a problem with airing this in front of your dad, so if you thought him being here would save you, think again.”

“What's the matter, Kurt? Whatever it is I'm sure we can fix it.”

“Right. Well, see, Mr Berry, I really doubt that. Unless of course you have a time machine hidden away somewhere.

“See, once Rachel and her boyfriend broke up – supposedly because having to keep the New Directions' setlist secret from him was just so hard – she started trying to talk my brother into dumping his girlfriend by claiming she was cheating on him. When that didn't help Rachel decided to keep stalking Quinn in the hopes to take pictures that'd make Finn leave Quinn and come running back to Rachel – or so I assume, since it's not exactly common for her to do things like this without personal gain.

“Now, maybe I would have let Rachel get away with this normally, because she didn't stand a chance of getting what she wanted, but thanks to her actions a good friend of mine is actually in danger right now.”

“I had nothing to do with those photos! And if you're so worried about Sam you should stay away from him and–” Rachel snapped her mouth shut, possibly realizing she was close to saying something that would only give Kurt more ammunition.

“You didn't take those photos, no, but there is no way Jacob ben Israel would have found Sam there without you. You already know he stalks you on a regular basis, so why would you believe he isn't now, knowing that you're single again?”

“I'm sorry, but would you mind telling me what you're talking about?”

Rachel tried to serve her version, but Kurt just talked right over her and informed Mr Berry about exactly what had happened.

“That is horrible, and we are going to come back to that later, but for now I'd like to know why you were asking if Rachel planned this.”

“Because I know her?

“No, sorry. First of all there's Finn. She went to him first, but he refused to listen to her, choosing instead to trust his girlfriend. It would be very much Rachel's style to believe that spreading the information would make Finn change his mind.

“Second, when people started asking Sam if he was involved with me in some way Rachel suggested that I could protect Sam from being called gay – and subjected to the same treatment I get – by abandoning my friend and start dating her ex-boyfriend. That I have no interest in doing so, and have in fact turned him down already, wasn't a concern for her.”

Mr Berry frowned and gave Rachel an appraising look. She soon began to blush, leading Mr Berry to frown even harder.

“I'm really disappointed in you right now, Rachel. I suggest you go to your room and think about what you've done, and we'll talk about this when your dad comes home. Kurt, would you mind answering a few more questions for me?”

It ended up being more than a few questions, but seeing as the result was Mr Berry leaving to talk with both Jacob and his parents Kurt was fine with it.

He was even more fine with it the next day when he found out the results. Jacob had lost his camera and his channel was gone. The Muckraker had been disbanded and that everyone involved had been forced to apologize to everyone they'd trashed – including Sue. And the Evans family had gotten some proper help, both with their living situation and looking for jobs. Mr and Mr Berry did not play around.

The fact that Rachel was subdued and refused to even look at Kurt was just the cherry on top.

~TBC ~

#chocoholic fics #kurtofsky #kurt hummel #dave karofsky #pov: kurt hummel #(take) these broken wings #not for the klaint of heart #not blaine or rachel friendly

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the-wlw-cafe · 4 years

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Supercorptober 2020 - Day 10: Ice

Read it on ao3 here!

TW: discussion of the possibility of rape (no rape takes place), major character injury, implied terminal illness. This one is bittersweet y’all!

Lena couldn’t feel her legs. It was an improvement over the searing pain she’d felt in the first two hours of fighting her way through the four feet of snow covering the plains. Back then, breaking though the frozen layer at the top and feeling the solid, sharp edges cut along her skin had felt like knives slashing at her with every step, but now there was nothing but numbness. She wasn’t sure how she was still walking, or even why. The chances that she’d make it were grim, and they became darker with every minute that passed, every moment closer to sundown.

Sundown was of course a relative term, she hadn’t seen the actual sun in years, always covered by an impenetrable layer of dark grey ash that the bombs had spewed into the sky. But it’s absence could still be felt, and without the light of the moon or the stars the nights had become black as tar, making it impossible to see the hand before your very eyes.

She’d come past several abandoned houses and smaller settlements, most of the buildings long since collapsed from the accumulated weight of the ash and snow on their roofs. There’d been no sign of people living, or even just passing by there. Maybe she should be glad about that. Lex had told her all manner of horror stories about the people outside the city walls: bandits, murderers, cannibals. All of them out for their their wealth, their lives, their house and home, and Lex was the only one who could protect her from the wastrels outside. He’d built an empire out of nothing, just to keep his little sister safe.

His concern for her safety only extended as far as she was willing to obey him, and the moment she’d stopped believing the lies that spilled from his lips whenever he opened his mouth he’d been more than happy to sentence her to exile. Death would probably be a more apt description of her punishment, but Lena could see why Lex wasn’t overly fond of it. It did sound a lot less civilised.

“This brings me no joy, Lena”, he’d announced to the tribunal, “but justice must be served.”

It sure didn’t seem that way when he’d gleefully recounted all the things the outsiders would do to her should they get their hands on her – he’d gloated that if she froze to death in the plains she should count herself lucky. Lena was inclined to agree.

She wasn’t sure whether it was the exhaustion that made the corners of her vision darken or if dusk was already approaching. There was a coppery taste in her mouth, she assumed she must have bitten her tongue with how bad her teeth were chattering. She was stumbling now more than she was walking, and she hoped it was only the dwindling daylight that made the tips of her fingers seem darker than the rest of her skin.

She fell.

Thrashed her way out of the snow.

Got up.

Took a step.

Knees buckled.

She fell again.

It dawned on her then that this was it. She tried to get her muscles to obey, but try as she might, they wouldn’t. All that was left for her to do was to curl into fetal position there in the snow, close her eyes, and wait.

At least she didn’t feel the pain anymore.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when she saw the light. It was flashing brightly behind her closed lids, and the scared 4-year-old catholic girl inside her she’d tried so hard to repress believed for just one second that it might be the light of heaven.

Then, through the sound of her chattering teeth, she heard voices approach.

“Kara, holy shit, there’s someone there!”

Rapid footsteps were approaching her now, her panicked mind sent into overdrive with visions of her brother’s hateful sneer as he raved about rampant disease and savages driven mad with hunger and breeding stock. It imbued her with a last burst of adrenaline-borne strength, as she crawled backwards, away from the light.

“Is she...is she dead?”

“No, she’s moving!”

Trying to get away was an exercise in futility. They’d quickly caught up with her, two figures looming over her, barely more than silhouettes as the flashlights they were holding were the only source of light. One of them took a step closer, knelt down beside her, and Lena squeezed her eyes shut again.

“Please”, she whispered in a voice barely louder than the rustling of fabric as the outsider pulled her into a sitting position, not in a terribly rough manner. What she was pleading for she couldn’t say, perhaps mercy, perhaps a swift death. Whether her pleas were heard she never found out, because as the outsider tried to help her to her feet with the help of the second figure, the world spun on its axis as she lost all sense of up or down, and she sunk into a deep, deep darkness.

She drifted in and out of something akin to consciousness. There were disjointed memories, she was unsure which ones were real and which ones her mind made up for her, pushed beyond its breaking point. She could remember someone lifting up her hand and holding a cold glass of water to her lips, tilting it ever so slightly as to only let a couple of drops wet her lips at a time, there were voices around her, footsteps, the smell of burning wood and acrid smoke.

The first time she truly woke up, she thought herself back in the city. It had always smelt of fire there, of the furnaces beneath the earth ever hungry for more sustenance.

“She’s resting, Kara, and you looking over my shoulder constantly won’t make it better. Please, go outside. Go help Mike clear the path to the outhouse since you both completely skimped on ice duty after you found our guest.” The voice was female and somewhat gruff, she sounded like she was speaking through clenched teeth. She was also totally unbeknownst to her. Her pulse quickened as it fully occurred to her that she was in the hands of a group of outsiders. They hadn’t killed her yet, and from what she could feel her body had been deposited on a somewhat soft underground, maybe an old, stiff mattress. She was alive, she’d been kept alive, at the expense of precious resources, so they wanted something from her.

“She was dying, Alex!”

“Kara! Outside!”

Hurried footsteps disappeared off somewhere, and Lena assumed the woman called Kara had left the one called Alex to her devices. Lena kept her eyes shut and breathed slowly, hoping to overhear more, maybe getting a solid idea of what these people wanted from her, finding out what she had to do in order to stay alive. But Alex remained silent at her side, until she heard the rustling of fabric and the touch of the woman’s hand on her forehead, startling her into foolishly letting out a gasp.

“Awake, huh?” Alex asked. There was no use in denying it. She opened her eyes and turned to face the person currently taking her temperature. She was a young woman with short cropped auburn hair, a stern crease between her eyebrows. As Lena let her gaze sweep across the room, she found herself in a large hall of some sort, some kind of factory, if she had to guess. The walls were tall and grey, the only light filtering in from tiny windows near the roof. There were several mattresses strewn across the floor, she could see about half a dozen from where she was lying but she supposed there were several more hiding behind the shoddily made privacy screens of wood and cardboard that intersected the room at regular intervals. The middle of the room gave way to a makeshift fire pit, probably the only source of warmth in the night.

“Do you want some water? We couldn’t get you to drink much while you were out.”

Lena nodded, gratefully, not quite trusting her voice not to tremble if she tried to speak, and she didn’t dare show any sign of fear or weakness, not when she didn’t yet know what the outsiders needed from her. She needed to grip the glass of water with both hands as to not let it slip from her weakened grasp. She noted that both of her hands were wrapped in bandages, but they worryingly, they were still somewhat numb. The liquid felt warm on her lips, probably not quite cooled down from boiling just yet.

“You were lucky Kara and Mike found you when they did. They were the last ones out for the night, and you definitely wouldn’t have made it until the morning. It was pretty stop and go as it is, my mom and me took turns watching over you.”

Lena nodded absently while forcing herself to drink in small sips as not to make herself sick, while her mind raced again. Alex had mentioned blood relatives, so this was a familial community, and they cared for their sick, even if they didn’t belong to them. They didn’t seem to be nomadic either, if the structures they’d erected were anything to go by. She allowed herself a sigh of relief. It could have been much, much worse. At least she didn’t have to expect to be used for their entertainment and be abandoned after the novelty had worn off. What duties awaited her in this commune she didn’t yet know, but she was certain wanton cruelty was not one of them. The sound of footsteps quickly approaching dragged her back to reality.

“Alex, the path to the outhouse is clear, Mike was almost done by the time I arrived, so I – you’re awake!”

It was Kara, the woman Alex had sent away previously. She was wrapped up in a thick coat that was covered in snow up to the waist, half of her face hidden behind a red woollen scarf that covered her mouth and nose, only her blue eyes and some strands of blonde hair that had come loose from the fur-lined hood were visible. When she set eyes on Lena, they seemed to widen in something Lena hesitated to call joy.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, almost bowling Alex aside in her eagerness to sit down next to her mattress.

“Right”, Alex said, “you keep an eye on our mystery guest, and I’ll fetch mom and let her get a look at her injuries too.”

She stood up and vanished behind one of the privacy screens, leaving Kara to plop down gracelessly into a cross-legged position at Lena’s side.

“I’m Kara”, she said, “I was the one who-”, here she paused, pulling a face, wrenching the scarf away from her face and turning away from Lena to spit something out.

“Sorry, got lint in my mouth”, she grinned sheepishly, her cheeks and the tip of her nose adorably pinkened by the cold.

“Anyway, Mike and me found you out in the snow.”

“I know, Alex told me”, Lena replied, and found her voice hoarse with disuse but otherwise steady.

“Oh, Alex is going to be so glad to see you awake too!”

That gave Lena pause. Alex didn’t seem hostile in any way, but she also wasn’t exactly jumping with joy to see her on her feet again.

“Why’s that?”, Lena asked. The suspicion must have been clear in her voice, as Kara lifted her hands in a placating gesture.

“Well, when we brought you in, we didn’t exactly have an unoccupied sleeping place lying around, so I left you mine, which meant I had to bunk with Alex like I used to when we were kids – she’s my sister – and...well, all I’m saying is that she’ll probably be glad to have some privacy with her girlfriend again.”

Lena couldn’t disguise the way her breath hitched at the word girlfriend. It seemed impossible to her, utopic even, to have a relationship built from love with another woman and have it be recognised by others. Lex had always been obsessed with progeny and the triumph of the human race. He hadn’t ostracized her for her attraction to women, yet he’d always been convinced that eventually, she’d move past what he called selfish desires and marry a man for the sake of the greater good.

“So where do you come from?”, Kara asked. “We’ve had contact with a few nomad groups moving south, trying to find warmer climates, but since Brainy says it’s a futile effort because the ash clouds must cover at least the entire northern hemisphere we’re staying put where we are.”

Lena couldn’t tell her the truth. She knew the city’s walls were guarded, and up until now she’d been complacent in the shooting of the folks who came too close to the gates, too cold and hungry and desperate to heed the guard’s warnings. She knew that through years of keeping quiet and living in fear of her brother’s retaliation there was more blood on her hands than she could ever hope to wash off.

Kara must have caught her hesitation, because she backtracked at once.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m only asking because if there are still friends of yours out there, we can probably put together a little search party.”

Lena shook her head. “No, there’s nobody out there. I’m alone.”

“Not anymore”, Kara said, reaching out to touch Lena’s shoulder affectionately, making her heart race. Lena would have laughed at herself if she wasn’t so stunned. Were she came from, affection had never been freely given, it was a reward for when she’d acted according to Lex’s designs, the carrot as opposed to the stick of forced labour down below, keeping the furnaces roaring. It was almost terrifying to be awarded it now, even though she’d done nothing to deserve it, in fact, the opposite was the case as she’d clearly refused to tell Kara the truth about where she’d come from. And yet, she couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

“I’m Lena”, she told her instead, offering at least some amount of information to appease her. The answering smile she received was brilliant.

Their moments was over when Alex returned, and older blonde woman she assumed to be her mother in tow. She introduced herself as Eliza, and asked Lena all manner of questions about her health, whether she was having difficulty breathing, and whether she was experiencing any localised numbness. When Lena told her about the numb feeling in her fingers, she frowned, but didn’t seem to distressed.

“Listen, Lena, I know this might be hard to hear, but when we found you, the frostbite in your fingers, especially in the pinky and ring finger of your right hand, had progressed very far. We didn’t want to risk necrosis, as we don’t have the proper equipment to fight a sepsis, should it come this far. I’m sorry we couldn’t involve you in the decision, but you were unconscious, and time was of the essence.”

Eliza spoke in a calm and patient manner, but it did nothing to lessen the impact of her next words:

“We had to take off the pinky and ring finger of your right hand.”

Her words were enough to turn Lena’s stomach, and she found herself senselessly clinging onto denial. “No”, she whispered, “no, that can’t be true, I would know…”

“Phantom sensations are a very common occurrence -”

Lena couldn’t hear her anymore, she’d started tearing at the bandages around her hands, despite Alex’ and Eliza’s protests because she needed to show them, needed to prove them wrong…

She retched on an empty stomach when she’d pulled enough layers aside to see it was true, two of her fingers were just gone, two short stumps under the reddish brown stains on the bandage where they should be. She knew she was hyperventilating, distantly chastising herself to get a grip, but the nausea and panic made it impossible, her breath coming more and more shallow until -

She faintly realized someone was holding her. She was being cradled in strong arms, someone was holding her hair from her face, and as she tried to force her panicking senses to zero in on the touch she realised it was Kara’s voice murmuring into her ear, telling her to breathe slowly, in one two three four, out one two three four five. Eventually the attack abated, and Lena sunk heavily into Kara’s arms, not even having enough strength left to feel humiliated at her display.

She didn’t pass out again, not physically, but her mind certainly checked out of reality for a time. When she became aware of herself again, the noise of people talking reached her ears.

“Brainy checked the fuses and I had a look at the cables, and there’s nothing wrong with them, so the problem has to be with the turbines, and we need to get them back online ASAP or the growbeds are going to pay the price.”

“I can do that”, Lena murmured before anyone had the chance to interject. She opened her eyes and realised with an embarrassed flush that Kara was still holding her. The blonde let her go when she started to squirm away.

“I can do that”, she repeated. Whoever had controlled the electricity in the City had controlled the power, quite literally, so she was raised to know her way around all kinds of sources of electricity. And it was high time to prove to the community that she was more than just a mouth to feed, that she could pull her weight, that she was worth the trouble they’d gone to to keep her alive.

“Are you sure?” Alex questioned with a raise of her eyebrows. “You just woke up today, you should rest some more.”

“I’m sure”, Lena said, projecting all of the certainty she didn’t feel into her voice. “I can do it.”

Nobody fought her on it, even though Kara looked like she was about to.

The issue, as it turned out, was once again the frost. Lena was told that the community had taken refuge in a hydroelectric power plant, one they’d actually gotten up and running again after the bombs had dropped. They had to regularly send people out to stop the formation of ice on the river that powered it in order to keep it operational, but since Kara and Mike hadn’t finished their duty last night it seemed some leftover water inside the turbine had frozen and expanded, wrenching key parts of the mechanism out of place. Nothing seemed to be past saving, thankfully, and Lena went to go about the tedious work of instructing Brainy, who they’d referred to in case of trouble with the turbines on how to fix them. To be perfectly honest, Lena had no doubt that Brainy would have proven just as capable to handle the problem as she was, but he didn’t complain. Lena was just glad to have found an area to prove her worth. As she watched Brainy work on the turbines, the exhaustion caught back up to her, and she had to sit down on the hard floor propped up against the concrete wall, just to take a little break, to close her eyes for just one second…

When she opened them again, she found herself back on the familiar mattress again, blue eyes staring down at her in concern.

“Lena! Don’t you dare scare me like that again, gosh, we all knew you weren’t ready but you seemed so sure!”

“Did it work? Are the turbines back online again?”

Kara just made an exasperated noise, like it was Lena who wasn’t making any sense at all.

“Yes, it worked”, she finally cried, gesturing around them. Lena now realized that the area was now illuminated by floodlights now. “But Lena, you passed out again!”

So what, Lena thought, and noticed only at the scandalised gasp Kara let out that she’d said the words out loud.

“Okay, I think we need to put some ground rules down.”

Lena almost breathed a sigh of relief. This was territory she was familiar with. Maybe this community would start making more sense to her as soon as she knew whose authority to respect, which places were off limits and at which times she was expected to speak or hold her tongue.

“Rule number one: If you feel at all sick, or weak, or if you’re injured, you tell Alex and Eliza and you let someone else take over your chores for the day.”

This wasn’t at all what she’d expected, but she nodded anyway. Even more confusing was that, despite this rule being titled rule number one no more rules seemed to follow, and Kara seemed placated with her response.

“Dinner will be ready soon”, Kara said, the abrupt change in topic almost making Lena choke on thin air. “Hope you like turnips!”

There were more, unspoken rules, but they were baffling all the same. Rule number two she found out about very quickly, when Kara asked her, blushing and stammering adorably, whether she’d be alright with sharing a mattress.

“You can say no if you want to, I can just stay with Alex, I’m sure she won’t mind...much.”

“It’s fine, Kara, it really is”, Lena said, despite an unexplainable surge of nerves. She’d never shared as much as a room before. It was the novelty of sharing a bed that made Lena’s heart beat out of her chest as they lay next to each other, stiff as boards. She didn’t dare entertain any other reason as to why her skin tingled with electricity in the places their skin touched.

Rule number two was that she was expected to speak her mind. Lena really wasn’t keen on finding out how far this rule extended, and what the exceptions were.

She lacked the common sense to know that rule number three was more of an in-joke among the outsiders as it was law. A young man named Winn, who was more or less the authority when it came to the growbeds where they grew turnips, potatoes and carrots, showed her around the greenhouses as soon as she was well enough to take on some duties.

“Welcome”, he said, swinging his arms like windmills in an excited gesture, “to my secret grow operation. Don’t narc.”

“Please laugh at his jokes”, a young brunette whom Lena remembered being called Nia stage-whispered. “He gets so mopey when they don’t land.”

Nia, as it turned out, was very easy to work with. She was the youngest in the group, and she’d also joined the community the most recently, and she was overjoyed to no longer be the newest member. She didn’t talk about the circumstances of her joining much, and Lena didn’t pry – it would be very hypocritical of her to expect the truth from others but hide her own. She soon became very fond of Nia, she easily made her feel welcome, and she had a way of intuiting whenever Lena needed a break but didn’t dare ask for it. She still was overcome with spells of nausea and dizziness, especially when she caught a glimpse of her mangled hand while working.

“I don’t actually remember much of it”, Nia blurted out one day as they were clearing the growbeds of weeds. It was astounding, really, how weeds seemed to thrive even in these conditions. “I was very young, and very sick. My family were moving south, like a lot of people did, and my sister dragged me here because my parents had heard there was a doctor living here. Eliza and Alex took me in, and helped me get better, and when they went to find my family again, they’d already up and left.”

There was a long pause in which they silently worked side by side.

“I don’t remember much, but I know that my parents wouldn’t have left me behind, not if they believed there was still hope.”

There’s an accusation in there somewhere, but Lena doesn’t comment on it. What would she have said anyway? Siblings can be like that sometimes? My own brother abandoned me to die alone? She just reaches out to place a hand on Nia’s shoulder, like Kara did with her once, and she hopes her smile conveys more than she has the words to say.

The change in their sleeping arrangement happens gradually, so gradually that Lena doesn’t even notice until she finds herself one evening with her head resting literally on Kara’s chest, with Kara’s hands running idly to her hair. She forces herself to breathe calmly as soon as she notices, as if Kara was a very shy deer she ought not to disturb. Was this strange? Was it wrong? It couldn’t be. She felt more at peace than she’d been in a long time, and her sleep was more restful than it had ever been behind the walls of the City. She didn’t dare bring it up, for fear of calling attention to it meant Kara putting a stop to this unspoken ritual of theirs.

Not everyone in the community welcomed her with open arms. It really didn’t bother her all that much, she couldn’t imagine trusting a perfect stranger that had washed up in the middle of their tight-knit group either. There was Kara’s cousin Clark and his pregnant wife Lois, and while Lois was perfectly civil towards Lena, there was no disguising the look of distrust in Clark’s eyes whenever Lena so much as looked in his wife’s or Kara’s direction. Nor could James, whom Kara claimed to be an old family friend, hide the way his eyes followed Lena’s every move. But it was fine, it was to be expected. At least that’s what Lena told Kara, after she’d had a fight, a proper shouting match with the two about getting to know Lena for who she is and not who they expect her to be. At least whoever plans the chores has the common sense not to put them in the same group.

Lena really doesn’t mind the judgement, but what she does mind is Mike’s constant advances on her. “He gets...excited when there’s someone new in the group”, Alex explains with a frown, as if there’d been similar problems with him before. Lena isn’t quite sure whether she should reject him. Sure, the thought of being with him made her stomach turn, but Lena wasn’t sure whether she could let the chance to establish a proper foothold in the community. She needed the security, just because she was liked by Kara and Nia, and tolerated by Alex and Eliza, didn’t mean that she’d be safe should it come to infighting. So she endured his flirting, and smiled politely to cover up the urge to cringe whenever he would touch her arm in a manner that was to frequent to be truly accidental.

Kara, of course, read her like a book.

“I’ll beat him up for you if you want to”, she’d said, the determination in her voice bordering on scary. “I mean it.”

Lena didn’t doubt that for a single second. She smiled patiently.

“I don’t mind his attention”, she lied effortlessly, “I think I might come to like him some day.”

“But that’s not what love is supposed to be about!” Kara cried. Love – what a cute concept. It was all very Kara.

“It’s not about love”, Lena tried to explain. “I want to stay here.”

“Then stay!”

As if it was that easy.

“You shouldn’t have to force yourself to like him”, Kara said. “You can just tell him to back off.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d love that.”

“That doesn’t matter! It’s your choice, and if he doesn’t like it, that’s his problem. If he makes trouble, I’ll beat him up, as I promised.”

“Kara-”

“No, Lena. Your right to stay here doesn’t depend on who you date. And if anyone tells you anything different, they can have a word with me.” Kara squared her shoulders demonstratively, and Lena had to swallow. She’d never really noticed how muscular her friend was, but now that she knew, it was difficult to take her eyes off her straining biceps.

“I’ll always protect you”, Kara whispered, and Lena was glad the blonde took this exact moment to take her into her arms, because it meant Kara couldn’t see the way Lena had to dig her teeth into her lower lip to stop it from shaking.

Mike didn’t take it well. He pouted and made passive-aggressive remarks, he threw her nasty looks over his turnip stew and demanded to no longer be assigned chores alongside Lena, which Lena was rather fine by her. He got over it eventually. He had nowhere else to go, and in a community that had no choice but to rely on each other there was no place for long-held grudges. They got along because they had to. He actually managed an apology for his behaviour some weeks later, hands buried in the pockets of his worn jeans and eyes stubbornly averted. Lena took it, because it was the best she was going to get from him, and she couldn’t afford to have an axe to grind.

Rule number four was basically common sense: You don’t go onto the ice alone. Ice breaking duty was always assigned in pairs, to have someone to call for aid should something happen. It was a necessity Lena soon became all to aware of when she shared ice breaking duty with J’onn, one of the eldest members besides maybe Eliza. She’d been there when she saw him lean heavily on his icepick, and, moments later, collapse into a heap out on the ice, his breath coming shallow, moaning in pain. She’d called for Alex and Eliza while dragging him inside to safety. The other’s soon helped carry him to his assigned bunk, where Eliza immediately started tending to him.

“Is he sick?”, she asked Alex, but before she could answer J’onn emitted a sound Lena first thought to be a dry cough, but soon she understood that he was laughing, a pained, horrible laugh devoid of mirth.

“Four atomic bombs dropped over North America, and she asks me if I’m sick”, he coughed. “We’re all dying of something out here.”

The words shouldn’t surprise her, but they hit her like a ton of bricks as the words echoed in her mind, and they continued to do so whenever she saw Kara struggling for breath after completely mundane activities, when she saw how tired Winn always looked no matter how much sleep they got, when she saw how little weight Lois was gaining despite being pregnant.

They sent out hunting parties too, sometimes. They seldom brought home more than a meagre rat or a squirrel if they were lucky, but they went out anyway. Lena suspected it was more to avoid cabin fever than to find a sustainable source of food. She’d come to look forward to these moments, as Kara always volunteered to be her partner. She’d come to adore the quiet out there, no matter the cold, and she’d become addicted to the way Kara’s hand found hers almost automatically whenever they walked next to each other.

On a day like this, clearer than most she’d seen, she noticed it: On the horizon in the distance, one large column of acrid black smoke was rising into the clouds above.

“The City”, Kara explained, and Lena closed her eyes at the assault of memories, the empty-eyed workers shuffling down to the furnaces under threat of exile, the air that hurt to breathe and the sneer of her brother.

“It seems so close”, Kara remarked.

“Don’t worry, they don’t leave their walls”, Lena said quickly in an effort to calm her friend, then quickly tacked on: “So I’ve heard.” She cringed at how bad she’d gotten at lying ever since she didn’t really need to do it on a daily basis.

Kara regarded her with an unreadable expression for a long time. Then:

“We all know, you know? That you’re Lena Luthor.”

Lena stared at her, wide-eyed. “But how...why”, she stuttered, suddenly forgetting how to form complete sentences.

“Most of us are exiles ourselves. It’s why Clark and James have such a hard time trusting you, because they were suffering and they can’t see you were suffering under Lex as well.”

Lena stood there, dumbfounded. Whenever she thought she’d found a system of rules to operate by, Kara came along to uproot her view of the world.

“How can you even look at me, after all my family has done to your family?”, she whispered.

“Because I know you”, Kara stated, as certain as one could be about anything. “And I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too”, Lena murmured, resting her head on Kara’s shoulder, and Kara’s answering smile was so bright she almost didn’t notice the sunshine that had landed upon Kara’s features. When she did, she couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped her.

“Kara, look!”, she squealed with abandon, pointing towards the crack in the clouds that let a singular ray of sun escape to dapple the frozen ground with light. They stood there, shadowing their eyes with their hands and staring directly into the sun like a pair of idiots, huddled closely together.

“Maybe this will be the last long winter we have to see”, Kara said, her eyes teary, not only from the brightness of the sun.

“Yeah, maybe”, Lena answered, closed her eyes, and hoped.

#supercorptober2020 #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #supergirl fanfic #10 for 10 and my laptop won't connect to the internet for more than three minutes at a time the amount of times i tried to post to ao3 #is unreal #i cried so many tears of frustration

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aswithasunbeam · 4 years

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Eliza inhaled sharply when she felt arms sliding around her waist, and the washboard she’d been using to scrub the sheets slipped into the large tub of water. Relaxing a moment later as she recognized the hands resting over her stomach, she sighed and wiped at the sweat beading on her forehead. “You startled me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” Alexander muttered behind her, even as he squeezed her tighter. She could feel him pressed up against her back, his nose nuzzling behind her ear. “What are you doing?”

Her brow rose as she turned in his arms to look back at him. “What does it look like?”

“You’re meant to be resting, not doing laundry. Ned’s orders.”

“You’re not resting either,” she charged. He’d been replying to correspondence in his office when she’d headed downstairs, desperate for something useful to do. The house felt so empty and quiet with no children. “I saw you working.”

“I am so. I wrote one letter, then I took a nap. I only just woke up.” His hair was slightly mussed, and a slight pillow crease was visible on the side of his cheek, she noted, both attesting to the nap.

Anxious concern for him surfaced all over again. Napping was unusual for him, and any sign of fatigue or ailment had her on edge with the threat of a relapse dangling overhead. She couldn’t lose him, couldn’t watch his health deteriorate again after all they’d been through. The memories of his delirium, of rubbing his back through piles of blankets while he shook with fever, of shaking beside him days later, it all felt far too fresh.

“You don’t feel sick, do you?”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m fine, my angel. I’m more concerned about you. I don’t want you overtaxing yourself.”

“I’m not.” She scrutinized his face to reassure herself that he was being truthful. “I’m nearly finished with the washing.”

Her arms wrapped around his waist, eliciting a low rumble of laughter from him. “You’re getting me all wet,” he complained, eyes sparkling with amusement.

She nudged at his nose affectionately and stole a kiss. “I wanted to be sure we’d washed everything before we pack for Albany.”

“Can’t Mary do that for you?”

“The most pressing items needing washing are our sheets and nightclothes from when we were ill. She doesn’t need to be touching those.”

He hummed softly in agreement. “Do you want some help?”

“You want to scrub dirty sheets with me?”

“I want to be with you,” he replied easily. After another loving squeeze, he released her and began rolling up his sleeves. “And we can’t exactly go out for a night on the town, can we?”

“True enough.” Philadelphia was entirely shut up in the wake of the deadly yellow fever outbreak, and what little there might have been to do still in the city surely would have been closed to them, having been so recently victims of the fever themselves.

They’d both been recovered for days, and apart a little fatigue and fogginess, neither of them had shown signs of relapse or descent into the deadly phase of the disease. Ned Stevens had pressed them to remain in their country home, resting and recovering properly before setting out to Albany to reunite with their little ones, but even he had agreed there was no reason to wait much longer. A few days more would prove they were no longer contagious and fully out of danger.

Alexander collected another washboard from the wall and scrutinized the laundry pile.

“Good Lord, I thought you said you were washing our sheets and nightclothes.”

“Well, I brought down a few more things,” she admitted, glancing at the dripping pile of clean laundry.

“A few? It looks like you emptied out our closets.”

“Maybe. Almost.” Better safe than sorry, she’d decided, as she’d raided their wardrobes earlier. “I just don’t want to bring anything to Albany with us.”

He ran a thumb over the clothes, a crooked smile on his lips. “This is everything I own. I almost expected my old uniform to be in here.”

“Your uniform that hasn’t fit you in more than a decade?” she teased. “No, that at least I figured that was probably safe.”

“Hey,” he said, faux offense on his face. “Not nice.”

She rolled her eyes. “Honey, you were measured for that uniform when you were nineteen and one bowl of rice away from starving to death. That you don’t fit in it anymore is one of my proudest achievements.”

He laughed and patted his stomach. “That’s fair enough.”

His waistcoat hung looser on him than it had before, reminding her yet again of toll the fever had taken on him. “You could use a little more fattening up, though, I think.”

“Not just me,” he said, giving her a significant look.

“I know,” she sighed. Her dresses didn’t fit nearly as well as they had only a week prior. “We could both use a few good, hearty meals.”

“Very true. Maybe I’ll cook for us after I finish laundry.”

“I don’t see how poisoning us is going to help,” she said with a Cheshire grin.

“Now you’re just being mean.”

She made a silly face, prompting another laugh from him. The sound eased something tight in her chest. His laugh was her favorite sound in the world.

After selecting one of his grungier looking nightshirts, he plunged the board into the water and reached for the lye soap before beginning to scrub at the cotton material. She watched him fondly for a moment before fishing in the warm, soapy water of the tub for her own board to continue working at the stubborn stain on their bedsheets.

“You’re a natural,” she praised when he held the shirt up for her inspection. Though dripping wet, she could see the material was white once more, rather than the unpleasant gray that had become after days of sweat and sickness. “Perhaps I’ll put you in charge of our laundry from now on.”

“It’s not the worst task I’ve ever undertaken,” he said, laying the shirt on the pile to be hung for drying. “Though this soap isn’t very pleasant. My hands have already gone red.”

“Poor darling,” she cooed facetiously.

He made a face and splashed soapy water towards her, drenching her apron. Gasping a laugh, she splashed water right back at him, soaking his waistcoat thoroughly. He frowned down at himself.

“How efficient. Why wait until you’ve taken the clothes off to wash them?”

“You could take them off now,” she suggested. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He grinned. “Naughty girl. Are you always this saucy when you do laundry?”

She splashed more water towards him. He splashed back, water sloshing over the sides of the tub and all over the floor. She couldn’t have minded less.

His whole face was scrunched with laughter as he scrambled backwards trying to avoid even more water. “Stop it,” he gasped, nearly doubled over laughing.

“You started it,” she parried, laughing too.

How good it felt, laughing with him like this, after all that terror they’d just lived through. She stumbled over to him, nearly slipping on the soapy water, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He squeezed her against him in an embrace.

“If I’d known laundry was this much fun, I’d have started helping a long time ago.”

“Hush,” she said, kissing him again, her teeth dragging gently over his full lower lip.

#hamilton fanfic #hamliza #love in the time of quarantine...#alexander hamilton #eliza hamilton #yellow fever aftermath #laundry #fluff #romance

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statistical-improbabilities · 4 years

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OCtober Day 7: Cliff

Thanks to @oc-growth-and-development!

Laena was intended to be just a backstory character for my oc Mya, an assassin currently employed on a pirate ship. In canon, she’s dead by now, but every so often I still like to flesh out her story. It’s not a happy one, though. (CW: kidnapping.)

To set the mood, listen to Fear by Sleeping at Last.

They’d been assigned to the midnight patrol again, though it was well past midnight by then. Mya was wearing multiple coats, one of which was Laena’s and far too big for her, yet she was still shivering. Laena stood close to her for warmth, though she was largely unbothered by the cold or wind or snow. Mya had pointed that out jealously.

“How come you’re not shivering?”

Laena just squeezed Mya’s hand, rubbed it between her own to put more feeling in the younger girl’s fingertips. “I grew up here. I’m familiar with this.”

“Hmph.” Mya was quiet for a little while, but another thought occurred to her soon enough. “Wait. Here, meaning here here? With the League? Or just in the mountains?”

“Just in the mountains,” she repeated quietly, lifting her gaze slightly. The snow was swirling so violently that she couldn’t make out most of the craggy peaks, but the tallest and nearest few weren’t completely hidden. “But I’ve been here most of my life, yes. Since I was six.”

“Damn.” Mya swore, softly and appreciatively. It was a strange sequence from a twelve-year-old. “How’d you end up here so little? They didn’t find me until I was eight.”

Laena fell silent, listening as the wind howled around them. It was beginning to pick up. Sleet like shards of ice pelted her bare cheeks, and beside her, Mya pulled her hood nearly down to her nose. An errant curl fell out from behind Laena’s ear, and she raised a gloved hand to replace it, then extended that hand to Mya.

“Come with me. We’ll be back by morning.”

They hadn’t taken her in the dead of night. The sun was shining the way it did at high noon, except it was already hours past. Days were much longer under summer’s warmth, and Laena relished every moment of sunlight she could get.

Those moments had become fewer and farther between as her mother had fallen ill. Not the plague, the village healer had said, or at least not the most recent one that had swept over the lowlands. But if it wasn’t the plague, he didn’t have anything to treat it with, and her brother had signed up to defend the village with the other young men, so Laena had been relegated to care for her mother, though she didn’t quite know how.

She did what she could. She knew where to find fresh snowmelt for the cloths that went on her forehead and behind her neck, and she learned how to climb onto a chair to ladle some soup into a bowl when her mother could stomach a small meal, and she knew when to pull the curtain over the door to prevent an early ice wind from entering their home. Sometimes her brother came home with news from the healer about some new cure the lowlanders were trying, for other diseases that weren’t quite the plague but fell over the villages in a very plague-like manner. None of the details mattered to Laena, only the desperation that came as her mother failed to get better.

When her mother was asleep, she snuck out into the village to listen to the adults talk. They spoke of mysterious illnesses that weren’t illnesses at all but disappearances into the night, and men hiding in the woods dressed in snow leopards’ skins with knives sharper than teeth, and miraculous medicines that would cure any ailment. One particular rumor captured Laena’s attention, and she ran to find her brother when she heard. He jumped when she snuck up behind him, like he did every time. If Laena had been less concerned about things, she might have poked fun at him for it, especially since he was guarding the village with the other young men, but as she was worried about their mother, she did not.

“The men in town, they were talking about the healer—they didn’t know I was listening—they say he’s talking to a mysterious man, one who has the riches to buy the entire village and the power to kill us all!”

“Be quiet, Laena,” he snapped at her, taking on the air of superiority and impatience that only older brothers could. “You probably heard wrong, and you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping again. What if Mother woke up and you weren’t there?”

“She’s asleep, I checked,” she protested, but there was hardly any force left in it. “I only thought… if this man is visiting our village, and if he’s really that rich—he could find a cure.”

His face didn’t change, but he puffed out his chest a little in a way that made Laena want to kick him. She was tall enough to reach the best place for it, too. “Then I will find him and talk to him, and you will go back home and do what you’re supposed to do.” All her previous energy vanished, Laena only nodded, rounding her shoulders in as she turned away and began the long trudge back home.

Her brother returned later than usual that night looking rather fearful, but more importantly, looking very annoyed. “You were wrong. There’s no rich and mysterious man with a cure for Mother. I bet you made it all up.”

“I didn’t! I heard it, I really did!”

“Then why did I look all throughout the village and not see anyone new?”

Laena quieted at that, and stared down at her bowl of soup. Their mother had only woken for a brief meal, and had fallen asleep again before Laena had finished. Now she wasn’t hungry anymore, and she pushed her bowl over to her brother for him to finish off. “Maybe I’ll find him,” she said quietly, hardly a whisper. “I’ll find him on my own, without your help.”

“I hope you don’t,” said her brother, equally quietly. He didn’t meet her eyes, but Laena had already looked away.

The next day, she made sure to rise with the sun, and crawled out a window so she wouldn’t disturb her brother. He would be furious to find her gone, as that meant he would have to stay with their mother for the day until she returned, but it had never ended badly before. He knew she always came back with her head down at the end of the day.

But the sun was shining, and she was determined to find that mysterious man.

Their village was too small to support a stranger, even for a night, so Laena took to the surrounding woods. The ground was rocky and full of mud from the melted snow that trickled down from the peaks of the mountains, and it took a considerable effort to make any progress. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to give up, so she searched for many hours, often getting herself lost and then found in the process as she regained her bearings, until she found herself carefully tiptoeing along the edge of a narrow cliff that opened onto a verdant valley.

There on the other side was a fortress that her entire village could have fit inside. People that looked smaller than toothpicks stood at attention all around the structure, and even on the roof. One, seemingly on a whim, shot a passing bird from out of the sky with expert aim. Laena gasped, and a gloved hand covered her mouth.

She couldn’t draw in a breath, not even to scream, with the hand restricting her airways. The hand’s owner laughed softly. His voice was a low croon that had it not sounded so cruel, might have sung a lullaby for peaceful sleep on the nights she tossed and turned with nightmares.

“You’re a pretty little thing,” his voice said, and Laena tried to push his hand away, but he only held her tighter. “Spirited, too. Perhaps more than I’d like, but beggars can’t be choosers.” That horrible laugh again. “Sick mother, headstrong brother, and nowhere to go for you, hm? No one has any idea where you are, or when you might return. No one gives a shit.”

Her eyes went wide at the curse, one even her brother tried not to use around her. She tried to bite down on his hand, but the glove was there for a reason. Laena squeezed her eyes shut. “Please let me go,” she whimpered against his hand, and though she couldn’t see it, she could feel him begin to smile in a way that was even more horrible than his laugh.

“Oh, I certainly could… but now that you know I was here, I’m afraid I can’t.” Faster than she could react, he slipped a length of fabric over her eyes and another into her mouth so she couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what secrets he spoke of. The only thing she was aware of was the way he ever so carefully flicked her tears off of her cheeks, one by one, and so wasn’t ready for when the back of his hand struck the side of her face.

Laena fell to her knees, tears flowing faster, but only managed to crawl a few feet before he latched onto her wrist and pulled her upright again. “You’ll be coming with me,” he promised with a sneer. “And if you think me a monster, think again. Your mother will be healed by month’s end, and your brother will be thanking me for it. I knew what medicine you needed, and my price was fair, you see. I only needed another initiate. But don’t worry. He and your mother will forget about you soon enough.”

He dragged her away from the cliffside, and unable to fight back, she went quietly with him.

Atop the jagged cliff, with snow blowing sideways and fading into a fog, Laena couldn’t see the fortress that was the southern Assassins’ League base, but she knew it was there. Mya’s gaze fixated on the same point, and hesitantly, she pulled Laena into an embrace. Laena wrapped one arm around Mya’s shoulders, holding her close as the younger girl buried her frozen face into her side.

She’d wanted to tell the real story, the one that Roberts had most certainly laughed about with the more senior assassins after he’d brought her to the League and left her to fend for herself amid the much older trainees, but when she’d opened her mouth, nothing had come out. She wasn’t ready, not even for Mya.

So she’d abridged the truth, said she’d grown up in a village that had been buried by an avalanche in recent years, and that the cliff they stood atop was where she’d been found and brought in for training. It wasn’t a lie, not really. Only a single piece of a much more extensive truth, one that she resolved to keep locked deep inside like she did with all other truths.

The sun’s rays peeked over the horizon at last, and Laena looked away. “Let’s go back,” she whispered to Mya. She stared at the cliff’s edge for a moment longer, but like every other time, she backed quietly away.

#oc-tober #my writing #original character #my ocs #laena fenharrow #mya kohan

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wisdomrays · 4 years

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TAFAKKUR: Part 61

Coping with Autism

"When I took my one-year old son to the supermarket, he never responded to other mothers' playful overtures. I used to tell them, 'Oh, he just woke up from his nap.' He was very unresponsive baby. We knew that something was wrong with him," expressed my close friend, on her early experience with autism. Most parents notice signs of autism in the first two years of their child's life. For most of them, it is hard to accept this disease and to overcome the psycho-social and spiritual challenges associated with it. Also, the majority of people do not even know what autism is.

Autism is a childhood cognitive disorder impacting brain development. Both children and adults with autism typically show difficulties with verbal and non-verbal communication, social interactions, and leisure. Numerous physical symptoms and disorders are common as well, including impaired motor skills such as walking, repetitive behaviors, and chronic gastrointestinal problems. The causes of autism are not known, but increasing scientific evidence pinpoints the genes involved in brain development. Many genes affect information processing in the brain. More than one gene is usually involved in this disease, so autism is a spectrum disorder, and it affects each individual differently and at varying degrees. The incidence rate of autism is approximately 1 per 150 children, and it is scientifically not clear, but boys are four times more likely to be diagnosed with autism than girls.

When we visited them, I realized that my friend's son, who was 2.5 year old then, would not look at or talk to his parents or to us. Instead, he sat by himself in a far corner of the house and made bizarre vocalizations. He screamed when we tried to talk with him. Most of the time, he was sitting inches away from the TV screen when it was turned on and playing with the cable when it was off. He had low muscle tone and problems with fine motor skills, so he could not actively play like our son. Instead, he was repetitively flapping his hands or rocking his body. Sometimes he engaged in self-injurious actions like head-banging or hand pinching. His parents, especially his mother were depressed due to all his tantrums, crying, and behavioral problems.

Finding an appropriate setting for an autistic child can be difficult. His parents decided to send him to a day-care for half-days so that the mother could refresh her mind from all the problems, and the boy could learn to socialize and begin to talk. Just two days later, she called me, crying, and telling of his bad experience in the day-care. "The teacher couldn't figure out what to do with our son, and she put him in a room by himself. I think he is frustrated; he is more aggressive now." She blamed herself thinking she had not made a good decision, causing her son to suffer more. I realized that she needed psychological and spiritual support to overcome this difficult period. It was certainly difficult to have a child that did not socialize, communicate, or even look at you. But as a believer, how does faith inspire us in this situation? What counsel is given to all sufferers by the Holy Books?

The Qur'an says we are "tested" in this life with different levels of challenges, and only the rightly guided believers will deserve Paradise:

"We will certainly test you with something of fear and hunger, and loss of wealth and lives and fruits (earnings); but give glad tidings to the persevering and patient: Those who, when a disaster befalls them, say, 'Surely we belong to God (as His creatures and servants) and surely to Him we are bound to return." (And they act accordingly.) Such are those upon whom are blessings from their Lord and mercy; and they are the rightly guided ones" (1:155-157).

According to Islam, children with mental illnesses are considered as pure and innocent as angels. Parents who take care of sick children with affection and mercy are promised heaven. The merits accruing from such illnesses wash away all sins of the parents, and particularly those of the compassionate mother [4]. Also, the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, encourages us to find treatments and cures for any disease. He declared:

"God did not send down an illness for which He did not send a cure."

The Bible many times describes children as a gift from God and reminds us that unhealthy children and adults are not sinners. Instead, God reveals His works on the human body with sickness and healing:

"Now as Jesus passed by, He saw a man who was blind from birth. And His disciples asked Him, saying, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?' Jesus answered, 'Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him." (John 9:1-3)

After a long discussion of the above verses and others in Holy Scriptures, my friend and her husband refreshed their minds with positive thoughts and decided to search for a special autism center to lessen their son's symptoms and to increase his functional independence. They found a center only ten miles away. The center practices "Applied Behavior Analysis" (ABA) for the treatment of cognitive disorders. In this program, correct behaviors are rewarded with positive reinforcement, such as a snack, riding a bike, or going outside, and negative behaviors are ignored. By rewarding the positive, students lessen their aggressive or self-injurious behaviors, begin to communicate with their parents, and develop an internal awareness. When they become confident in their communication skills, they can learn anything with an ABA program. Within six months, my friend noticed a change in her son's behavior. "He, for the first time ever, looked at us and hugged us. My husband and I were both moved to tears," she said.

She observes that her son, now six, swims and plays with other children. He sounds out some words and practices more appropriate behaviors that they never thought they'd see.

Children with autism can come out of their shells by early diagnosis and intervention. If parents accept their child's behavioral problems and collaborate with professional centers at an early age, children can adapt themselves well to family and social life. With patience, family members and their autistic child can experience success. What is needed is a solid determination combined with true respect and compassion and a deep trust in the goodness and mercy of God.

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trashfire-writer · 4 years

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The spray of bullets could be heard down the stairs as she sat up in the room she had been staying in–another solider, Colonel Lancaster eyed her as she posed, ready for the attack that they were about to endure. “Hawthorne, watch out!” The sound of several footsteps had been heard leaving the room, both thinking they were safe before a spray of bullets filled the room–the last thing Addison saw was the silhouette of a man standing on the outside ledge of their window and Lancaster trying to shield her from the assault but there was too much fire power–too much damage. The woman’s body dropped, blood spurting from between her lips. The wolf within her was trying to heal her, trying to undo the damage that was done as her eyes frantically looked around at all the bloodshed, Lancaster having retaliated the best she could before dropping lifeless, blood flowing from the middle of her forehead. The pain was beginning to become too much. White hot pain filtering through her until everything went completely black and finally… the pain was gone.

Something jolted within her, some sort of life source weaving through her veins, making her wolf incredibly uncomfortable–trying to fight off the intruder but finally giving way, merging with the darkness that was dipping into her cold, dead heart. What was going on? There were noises around her, but she couldn’t see. Her body felt like it was on fire… why was it so hot? She had died. What was going on? Something slammed so hard into her chest, her body threw itself forward–sitting up as her had swung over to her heart, eyes wide as the most blood curdling scream pushed from deep within her chest. Green-blue eyes shifted wildly around the room, taking in everything. It was pure white, smell so clean and sterile it almost made her sick. Each and every bit of dust could be seen floating in from the window, the sun shining brightly upon her body; that’s where the heat had been coming from. The girl looked down at her body to find her body clad in a simple outfit–a black t-shirt, leggings and plaid shirt.

And the worst feeling scratched at her throat–that burning. Like some one had stuck a hot, curling iron down there, hand coming to her throat; rubbing at it feverishly as Lancaster came strolling in the room, causing Addison to jump so hard that she fell off the side of the bed before scrambling backwards until she hit the wall, “You,” She paused to put her hands out, to stop the woman’s stroll towards her, “You were fucking dead! I saw the bullet wound in your head. You were dead! I- I was dead. What the fuck is going on? Is this heaven? I don’t even believe in God, let alone think I even deserve the right to go to heaven.” The brunette stopped as Bethany shook her head, putting her hand up to stop her from talking.

“For someone who is supernatural as well, I’d think you’d catch on pretty quick.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Addison, I’m a vampire. I saved you. So therefore, you’re a vampire now as well. Thought you knew this whole time.”

“No, I’m a werewolf… I can’t be turned, that’s impossible.”

“I thought so too. But here you are. You’re alive. Your body didn’t reject the change like most wolves do.”

“I can’t be… Vampire’s are monsters. I’m… a… monster.” And if that didn’t fit every outcome of her life, she didn’t know what else could. Addison’s life had always been nothing but a mess. It was one thing after the other. The anxiety in her body began to spew over the proverbial lid, eyes turning such an angry crimson red as her nails began to elongate into claws, unable to hear anything the blonde woman before her was trying to say. The next thing she could feel were soft hands on her hot flesh and it hurt, the loudest grunt filling the air before throwing the woman to the side and taking off out of the room.

☾

A bump in the road caused her to jolt awake from the light sleep she had finally fallen into, the same dream of her death and awakening coming to a halt. Peering outside the large bus window, her eyes fell upon the sign she’d been waiting to see for hours.

“Welcome to Bullhead City, AZ.”

Sage was hitting random towns as she tried to keep undetected; with her new identity and the fact everyone thought Addison Hawthorne was dead, it was proving to be quite easy but then there was Bethany Lancaster. The woman knew Sage was the one behind the murders; who else could do the things to them than a vampire? They had a run in back in Wyoming but being what she was, Lancaster was no match to the added strength of werewolf and vampire. The only thing that was making it difficult to stay hidden from the woman who brought her to life was having such a tough time not killing people. The blonde had mentioned something about her giving into the vampire instinct and cutting off all empathetic emotion, but she had cut her off by snapping her neck to get away – Sage had never been one for emotions, she had a shitty life and this felt better to her.

Being sloppy drunk seemed to be the “norm” these days, having fallen back into old habits. She’d been incredibly messy and stupid since the moment she woke up in that white room. But she could never exactly admit that to herself because she just didn’t care anymore. Sage had been here before, as a teenager and she thought going into the military would help her become the woman she had always dreamt of becoming.

But being who she was–she should’ve seen this outcome.

It felt as if the girl she was before, died with her humanity; her soul went right along with it. What every one of her mom’s friends said was spot on–they were soulless monsters who wanted to drain you of your life source. That’s all she wanted to do when she came across every single human–wanted to rip them from their dignity, take them away from the life they live on this Earth. Sage tried to strike up conversations with people, especially when her solidarity was becoming too much, and she became lonely but, within the first five minutes, she lured anyone to a dark and quiet area. She wasn’t like any vampire when she fed, though. The wolf in her always made her take it one step farther. Always unable to hold back from burying her fangs so deeply into the necks of her victims that their head pops off as if she were playing that childhood game with a dandelion. That’s when she’d flee, leaving the body for someone else to deal with and possibly traumatize.

But what did she care? They were mere mortals who’d die someday anyhow. Who cares if the lot of them were sad and depressed? Who cares if they came across a mutilated body just to push them that much farther over the edge? She’d been there, and she died, and she became something stronger than anything else in this world. A hybrid. A cross between vampire and wolf and she could quite literally take anything down. Honestly, if she wanted to, she could probably take over the world.

She would only stay here for the night, then by morning she would head out again; Arizona was still way too close to where Bethany had last spotted her but something about this place stuck out… like she was meant to come here. She wasn’t sure what it was but seeing the town sign. Something sparked in her chest the moment she crossed town lines. As she got off the bus, she set out to find somewhere to sleep, finding the smallest little motel. It was dingy, and the green paint was fading into the brown stains, but it had promise. She headed to the desk, paying for the room in cash and giving her, her fake name; Sage Westphall. Given the room key, she smiled at the woman with a sweet smile. Once she got to her room, she was fairly impressed with how the room looked; not nearly as disgusting as she imagined, it was thoroughly clean. Her enhanced eyesight didn’t pick up a lick of dust on the furniture, the beds covers, and pillows clean as a fiddle.

Confident she wouldn’t catch a flesh-eating disease, she went into the bathroom to take a much-needed shower. Pushing the door open to the bathroom, it was no bigger than a closet but just like the room, it was clean; even smelled of lavender. A memory of someone dear to her wanting to peek through but the darkness shut it down, slamming it back to the back of her mind. After getting everything situated, she pulled off the dirt and blood-stained clothing off her body. It proved almost difficult, this time around, they were really stuck to her skin; some days, she stopped for nothing, either walking or jumping bus to bus and since her last encounter, she had to just go, there was no time to stop. Finally able to peel off the crusted clothes, she tossed them into a trash bag, ready to be thrown out in the big green can outside the motel. She reached into the shower and snapped the water on – turning it all the way to the left, she stepped in, the water spray ran down her skin in seconds, the steam filling the air in a matter of minutes making it even hotter. The hybrid let out a small moan, it felt so good – the water went from clear, to brown and pink and then back to clear as every bit of grime washed off her. A stifle moan escaped her lips, hand snapping the water off—this was the cleanest she felt in forever.

Reaching out, she gripped into the white towel, expecting it to be as rough as pavement but the soft fabric brushed her sensitive milky white skin and she let out a satisfied sound. She judged this place way too harshly, guess every teacher she had was right; never judge a book by its cover. Wrapping the towel around her petite frame, she stepped out and stood in front of the mirror; pushing the palm of her hand to the steam covered glass, wiping it off to expose the very naked woman. Her pupils were big, skin flushed with patches of red over the skin she could see; her long dark brown hair draped neatly over her shoulder. The dark color was taking a bit to get used to. She had been born with the shade, but she had spent so much time with blonde hair in recent years it was weird to be back to the girl she once was. She had changed the color to symbolize change when she left for deployment. Sage shook her head and headed to the room to find something to wear. She had a long few days and needed a drink more than anything. And hopefully she could steer clear from murdering anyone today but something within her was craving the blood way too precariously.

When she left, the hybrid was clad in jean shorts, a black tank top complete with a cerulean and lime plaid shirt and a pair of beat up white converse that were more tan and holes than anything now. Grabbing the key to her room and wallet before heading out, the person housing next to her coming out, she asked where the nearest bar was–she was directed to “The Blue Lion”. Definitely an odd name but, like she discovered with the motel, she wasn’t judging, she always did appreciate smaller, close knit bars; she could tell people knew each other well. What she should’ve been focusing on, went right over her head though; not paying attention that there were other wolves. Normally, she could sniff it out, but it was one of those nights where, she wanted her drink now, upon entering, she sat down immediately with a smile before the man at the bar came up to her to see what she wanted, “Amaretto Sour, please?” Her blue-green eyes scoped out the place, making sure to see every exit, coming up with every escape plan she’d need, just in case. When the man came back with her drink, she smiled at him once more before heading to a spot in the back. Slowly sipping at her drink as she continued her thorough look through. That’s when the person next to her started to talk to her, “Never seen you around before,” She simply shook her head as she got up, not wanting to make any kind of small talk, anything could set her off and she couldn’t afford that. Making her way to the other side, she took a seat at an empty table when she felt the same man’s presence.“Can I help you?” The woman side eyed him, the male grinning widely, causing her to set her drink down, ready to slam it against his head if she needed to.

“I just couldn’t help but notice how hot you are. We don’t get girls like you around here much,” His tongue slid over his bottom lip, and she had to physically stop herself from gagging; bile rising to her throat once his next words slid passed his lips; they seemed to be in slow motion, “And while you were walking away, I watched the way your ass rippled in those shorts and damn, I had to come see if I could hit that up, because girl, I could fuck you good.” The glass was in her hand again much faster than anyone could’ve anticipated before she smashed the glass of liquid into the side of his face, the room falling into complete and utter silence except for a few select gasps. The woman watched the blood begin to rush down his face; her hybrid visage breaking over her face, the hue of her iris shifting from its normal shade to a bright red; her fangs sliding from their sheaths before she could tell herself she needed to calm down. Her body launched towards him, trying not to stick his fangs into his pulsating artery. The man’s torso pressed to the floor as she grabbed his arm and pulled it back, so he couldn’t move, making sure he felt her strength as he whispered out, “what are you,” And once she got the scent of wolf, she mentally cursed to herself. She might’ve walked into the wrong town if the scent of wolf filled the air much more than the man below her. The emotion “fear” flew out the window though and she bent down, whispering in his ear, “I am the monster parents tell their children about at night. A little bit of wolf, a little bit of vampire. You really should’ve thought twice before talking to me the way you did. I am a lady,” She brought her free hand up and gripped the back of his head before slamming it into the floor, not caring about all the eyes on her as beat the man almost to death. Blood caking the floor below them.

#writing #one day ill finish this #i have so much more written out but its all a mess #what happens when you rp your story #books and libraries #maybe one day ill be published #its my dream

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