#dv smash or pass asks

[dailyverse-smash-or-pass]

so you're single right

~ camp :P

Yes I am dear viewer! Why do you ask?

[f0rever15elf]

Not Like Them

Pairing: Marcus Pike x GN!Reader Rating: PG Word Count: 2,524 Warnings: Mentions of Domestic Abuse/Violence, addressing past traumas with DV, food mention, no beta, no y/n

Summary: After an exhausting week at work, Marcus comes home to you with news of a trip to visit his parents. When your unexpected reaction catches him off-guard, he snaps at you, brining up your past traumas. But Marcus isn’t the same as your past traumas, and makes you a promise to keep you safe. 

A/N: This comes as a request from a lovely anon! And I just want to say that lovely, I’m sorry you’ve had to struggle with something like this before in the past. I hope this fic brings you a little bit of comfort and know that my inbox is open if you ever need to talk. 

Masterlist |  Ao3 | Ko-fi

It had been a leap of faith, saying yes to the excitable and extraordinarily kind FBI agent. A leap that you weren’t sure you would ever be able to take, given what your life growing up had been. But there was something in the softness of his rich brown eyes, something in the way they crinkled in the corners when he smiled, or the way he laughed with his whole being. Something in the way that he said your name and when he was focused on you, he was singularly focused on you, that just assuaged the worries that ate at the back of your mind.

So, the day he asked you out to pancakes for dinner when you passed him in the hall of your apartment, you said yes. And the day he asked to make it official, you said yes. When he asked you to move in with him, you said yes. Yes, yes, yes.

...No.

Those two little letters are what started this entire debacle. Thinking it over, you aren’t even really sure why you said no to his request. It had been innocuous enough, him wanting to bring you home to Texas with him to meet his parents in person for the first time. You’ve talked with them plenty over the phone and facetime, so you aren’t sure why going to see them settled something so anxiety inducing in your gut. But it did, and so you told Marcus no, a knee-jerk reaction.

It had been a long week for the gentle FBI agent. Long nights spent on stake outs when he would much rather be home with you paired with the seemingly endless mountains of paperwork that kept ending up on his desk has him in a downright awful mood with the only thing keeping his spirits up being you, and getting to finally introduce you to his parents. In person. The three most important people in his life all together at last. 

He had greeted you as he always does when he made it home, slipping out of his shoes and suit jacket before coming to find you, gifting you with a kiss as he took you in his arms. You looked amazing, as you always do, and it only made his heart swell even more. He had wanted to surprise you with news about the trip over dinner, but he just couldn’t seem to help himself, blurting out how he already had tickets booked. But your reaction could not have caught him more by surprise.

Two little letters left him feeling like you had just sucker punched him in the gut, forcing the air out of his lungs as you carefully extracted yourself from his arms.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” he snaps, far more harshly than the situation called for as confusion and hurt and exhaustion all muddle his thoughts, and you take a step back from him, bringing your arms up to hold yourself as he stands seething with his hands on his hips.

“I-I mean that I-I don’t want to… to go. I don’t want to, Marcus.” Your voice is small and squeaky as you stare at him with wide eyes, terrified of what he might do next. Images flash through your mind of your life growing up. The yelling and the harsh words, the crashing and smashing of things through the house, the nights spent hiding in your closet with your hands over your ears in a desperate attempt to block out the sounds of a relationship left to rot on the vine. And though the rational part of your brain tells you that Marcus would never do something like that, seeing the man you have come to love standing furious in front of you sends fear sliding down your spine like ice water.

“Do you not realize how important this is to me?!” He yells, tossing his hands in the air in exasperation as his eyes narrow at you and you whimper, shrinking away from him as you move to put the island between yourself and Marcus.

The sound hits him like a freight train. It’s a small sound, one barely there, but it’s full of fear. Fear of him.

Oh. Oh, God.

The color drains from Marcus’ face and he slowly lowers his hands, eyes going wide. He holds out his hands in a placating manner, lowering his voice as he quells his vehement reaction in an attempt to calm you down. “Baby… baby, I’m so sorry.”

Your bottom lip trembles and you shake your head slightly, refusing to move back towards him. That was how it had started when you were younger. Loud, accusatory arguments followed by placative apologies. Those always got worse and worse and worse until your grandmother was coming to get you out of the house, trying to hide your line of sight to your parents. But… but Marcus would never put his hands on you… right?

As if to answer your question, he drops his hands and takes a few steps back away from you, making sure to stay clear of the hallway. He’s… he’s giving you a way out, you realize. He’s left a wide enough berth between himself and the hallway, that he wouldn’t be able to reach you if you decided to dart past him and lock yourself somewhere out of his reach. And… and oh my God he looks so deflated. Those lustrous brown eyes look so dull and sad. His strong, broad shoulders are slumped and he seems to be curling in on himself, trying to make himself look smaller, less threatening.

Your eyes dart between the hallway and the man you love as you try to reason with your fight or flight response, your heart still hammering in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins.

“I… I’m going to shower,” you whisper, side-stepping out of the kitchen, keeping your front directed at Marcus until you’re at the hall, at which point you sprint to the bedroom, grabbing some clothes before ducking into the bathroom. The click of the lock causes your shoulders to relax, and the damn of emotions breaks within you. Tears begin streaming down your cheeks as you turn on the water to cover the sobs that wrack your chest as you climb into the tub, sitting under the stream until the water runs cold.

Marcus’ aches to reach out for you as you dart past him, but he knows better. Hell, he knew better than to yell at you like that, especially in a place where you would feel so cornered, like the kitchen with no way out. He groans, swiping a hand over his face as guilt and regret settle heavy in his stomach. You’d been forthcoming with him, explaining to him your hesitancy at the beginning of your relationship and he had promised you he would do his best to make sure you never had to relive such a situation again. And yet, here he is, bringing your past back to haunt you. He knows his reaction was due to the awful week he’s had, but that was still no excuse to yell at you. And he knows to force you to be okay with him again is something he can’t do. He’ll need to let you come back to him on your own terms. But that doesn’t mean he can’t make a peace offering… right?

His eyes scan over the kitchen, hands resting on his hips. Tonight’s a good night for that carbonara you like, he decides, rolling up his sleeves as he heads into the kitchen to begin cooking.

By the time the water runs cold, your tears have dried and your sobs have ceased. The adrenaline has worked its way through your system, leaving you tired but much more clear headed to digest what has just happened. The facts are the best place to start, you decide. You know Marcus had had a rough week, talking to you about it whenever he got the chance, and he was exhausted because of it. You know that he’s been excited to get you to see his parents in person, he’s been talking about it for months. You know your curt answer caught him by surprise, and he had zero time to prepare for it. You know he had gotten angry and yelled at you. But you also know that he had made no move to hurt you, and that this is the only time he’s ever done anything like this. He hadn’t raised his hand to strike you, he hadn’t reached for anything to throw or break. You also know that he had deliberately given you your space when he saw how scared you looked.

No…. Marcus Pike would never hurt you, you rationalize. Marcus Pike is a good man and the love of your life. But Marcus Pike is also human, with human emotions and human reactions, especially when exhausted and caught off guard. Just like you.

With a bolstering breath, you turn off the shower, stepping out to towel off and change before cautiously poking your head out of the bathroom. You’re met with the muted sound of jazz lilting from the living room paired with the smells of garlic and bacon, and your stomach growls loudly at the tantalizingly familiar scent.

Cautiously still, you make your way quietly down the hall, peaking around the corner to see Marcus over the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he hums quietly along to the music in the den.

“Marcus?” you ask softly from your observing position in the hallway. He glances back over his shoulder, giving you that beautiful, gentle smile that is so perfectly him.

“Hey beautiful. I figured that tonight would be a good night for my carbonara. I know it makes you feel better.” You take a tentative step from the hallway towards the kitchen, wrapping your arms around your front as you do. “It’s… to say sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” He pulls the noodles from the boiling water, adding them to the pan with the chicken and bacon before pouring in the egg and cheese mixture for the sauce, stirring vigorously.

You continue towards him, stopping at the dining table to watch him as he finishes, putting the pasta into a large serving bowl before grabbing a couple of plates and utensils, bringing everything over to the table. But he doesn’t approach you. Instead, after setting everything down, he just stands behind his chair and gives you that gentle smile of his that makes your heart pound in your chest. No. No, Marcus Pike would never hurt you. Of this, you are resolutely sure.

Slowly, you step around the chair, towards him, stopping just before him. His hands itch to reach out for you, but he lets you move on your own terms, terrified of scaring you more than he already has. It takes you a moment, but eventually, you look up at him.

“You scared me, Marcus.” His shoulders deflate at that, and he nods, defeated. He knows he did, but hearing it from your lips made it hurt ten times over. “You scared me, but… but I know you aren’t like the family that I came from.” You reach out to take his hand and he squeezes it gently in reply. “But if you keep doing that… then I can’t stay here. I can’t stay with you. I’ve been through it once, and I’m not doing it again.”

Marcus shakes his head frantically before reaching out to take your other hand. “Baby, look at me, please.” You do as he asks, the bright light of determination in his eyes very nearly taking your breath away. “I’m sorry. Baby, I am so, so sorry. I brought the burden of work home with me when I shouldn’t have, and I took my frustration out on you, which I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to scare you. God, making you uncomfortable in your own home, or with me in any capacity, is so far from the list of things that I want to do, that I can’t even begin to describe it.” His voice takes on a bit of a warble, thick with emotion, and it only further reinforces what you already know to be true about the man in front of you.

“I’m going to be better, I promise. Work frustrations will stay at work. I’ll be open about when I’m not doing well, and we can handle it accordingly, because baby,” he slowly reaches his hand up, knuckles brushing your cheek, and he lets out a breath when you don’t flinch away from him. “Baby I want you to feel safe here. Safe with me. Safe, and loved, and treasured, and adored. I don’t want to be the reason you feel any kind of fear of discomfort. I don’t want you to walk on eggshells around me, or hold your words back because you aren’t sure how I’d react to them. I want this house to be a home.” He cups your cheek gently, thumb brushing along your cheekbone, and you lean into his touch.

“I have… a lot that still weighs on me, Marcus…. It’s hard to unlearn those formative years. It’s all I’d ever known until I met you….”

Marcus’ eyes search yours as he nods subtly. “I know, and I want to show you what a relationship is supposed to be. I can’t promise I won’t have bad days. I can’t promise that I won’t get angry from time to time. I can’t promise that we’ll never have arguments or disagreements. But what I can promise, is that my anger will never be directed at you. Ever. I can promise that I will never raise my hand against you. I can promise to make this place as loving and safe and comfortable for you as I possibly can. And I can promise to love you with everything that I have in me for as long as you’ll have me.”

By this point, tears have welled up and overflowed in Marcus’ eyes, and you feel your own eyes misting, overwhelmed with emotion. No, Marcus Pike is nothing like your past. Marcus Pike loves you, and is determined to show you what it means to be loved. Marcus Pike is determined to take care of you, no matter what.

You don’t offer him a verbal reply. Instead, you let his hand go before throwing yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his midsection as you bury your face against his chest. He lets out a little oof of surprise before carefully wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling into your hair, and you let yourself be surrounded by everything that is purely him.

“I love you so damn much,” he murmurs into your hair, and you know he means it. You know these words aren’t meant to placate you. You know that when Marcus Pike says he loves you, that he means it with every fiber of his being. You know that here, you are safe. Here, you are loved. 

~~~~~~

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[putbleachonit]

Part One; “I won’t be a repeat victim.”

This is the beginning of my story and experience with DV. For safety and protection, I’ve changed names of the people in this story.

I have had my amount of trauma in my life. Losing grandparents as early as 10 years old. An aunt at 11 years old. Being relocated to a different city across the entire country at 12 years old. Being the new kid with a weird accent. Bullying. Trying to fit in. Acting out. Experimenting with alcohol and drugs far too early. Becoming a bully myself. Suffer verbal abuse at home. Never really having a boyfriend in high school, I had sex with guys thinking they would like me for it. It never really hit me that they were using me until long after high school. My first experience with DV started young. Studies show often times, victims of DV have a repeat pattern. I had my first experience young, and didn’t experience it again until my relationship with prisoner. I thought I had beat the odds. No repeat victim here.

I became a victim of DV for the first time when I was 19 and he was 21. Let’s call him Kyle. It was only 6 months, but he managed to isolate me from my family, friends, and even talked me into going from full time employment to part time. I still to this day have no idea how I let this happen to me… but it did. Kyle drank a lot, he didn’t have a steady job, and whatever money he did have, he spent it on alcohol or drugs. The pattern of abuse started minimal.. asking to go through my phone, questioning if I was 5 minutes late coming home from work. But almost overnight, it seemed, he became more and more abusive. Consistently accusing me of cheating on him. Picked fights with me if I wanted to see my parents. I remember specially one time I was “allowed” to go see my parents, and I was going through summer clothes at their house…I found a pair of yellow short shorts and decided to wear them back home (to Kyle’s house where he had forceable moved me in). I remember thinking “these would be a treat for my boyfriend”, wondering if he would look at me and throw compliments my way. Tell me I looked beautiful. I got back to his house after maybe 2 hours and instead of telling me how pretty I looked, the minute he laid eyes on me they narrowed and he said “who the fuck are you wearing those for?” I remember being instantly stunned and said “uhhh… for you, silly.” He brushed it off and accused me of wearing them for “some douchebags” then gave me the silent treatment for the rest of the night. I couldn’t believe it. I did so many little things for this man. Cooked him breakfast every morning, supper every night. Cleaned. Did laundry. I did everything, and he’s giving me the silent treatment for wearing a pair of shorts?

Another time, Kyle and our other roommate had been drinking heavily, and I was in bed because I had to work the next morning. Kyle was texting me from the living room, some nonsense about me not respecting him.. I was also texting a friend named Colin, who didn’t even live in the same country. He lived in the States and was about to head off to sea because he had enrolled in the Navy. I was talking to him about how hard of a time I was having with Kyle, and how sad he made me. I didn’t reply to Kyle’s text in a timely manner, I guess, and Kyle came storming into our room. Yelling, screaming, punching the closet door. He took my phone and saw I was texting Colin, completely lost his shit and threw my phone against the wall, smashing it. He was belligerent, pacing back and forth, talking about how he knows people in 81 (Canadian people will understand this.. 8th letter of the alphabet and 1st letter of the alphabet.) and how all he had to do was call someone and I would be taken care of. This was the first time I was truly scared of him. He wasn’t making sense, I didn’t recognize him. The next morning i packed up a few things and snuck out while he was still passed out from drinking. I went to my parents house and stayed there for a few days.

Things progressed after this night quickly. I had an old iphone at my parents that didn’t have a working home button, but I was able to download the app that creates a home button somewhere on your screen. I got a new SIM card and started texting some friends, frantically apologizing for being so distant and trying to mend some hurt feelings. Once Kyle woke up from being passed out drunk, he took to blowing up my phone. Text after text after text, multiple phone calls in a row. Crying, begging me to forgive him. Using alcohol as an excuse for being so incredibly hurtful to me the night before. I wanted out, and expressed this to him. I told him I would be by his house later that afternoon to collect my gatherings. I showed around 430PM that day… when I showed up, he had 4 girls on my couch that I paid for, 3 guys, and a shit ton of alcohol. He decided he wanted to have a party. I walked through the living room and he was staring daggers at me. I instantly started to cry, how could he do this? Why can’t he be an adult about this and leave this amicably? I was in our bedroom, packing up my clothes and other personal things, and he came in. He told me he kicked everyone out and wanted to talk. I can still remember the smell of alcohol on his breath. He was crying. Begging me to stay. I fought through my tears and told him no, this isn’t what I signed up for. He became enraged again, and grabbed my wrists, screaming in my face, calling me a whore, a slut, useless, ugly, fat. Anything to tear me down. I screamed “YOU ARE HURTING ME”, hoping his roommate on the other side of the house would hear me over his music. Kyle let go of my wrists, staring at me with so much hate in his soul. I grabbed a bag I had packed and turned to leave the room.

I walked through the kitchen and saw a 4lt jug of milk on the counter, that I had purchased the day before for Kyle’s ridiculously large bowls of cereal when he was stoned. By this point I was by the kitchen table, and he came tearing through the kitchen, grabbed that jug of milk and threw it at me. It hit my right shoulder and then broke open all over the kitchen floor. I screamed “what the fuck is your problem?!” And I will never forget the expression on his face. His eyes were dark. His nostrils were flared. His chest was puffed. Before I could even react, he came charging at me like a fucking football player. He tackled me to the ground. With his force and weight, we ended up in the archway to the living room and main entrance. His roommates room was next to the main entrance.

He had me pinned on the floor. Straddling me, and he punched me in the mouth. My lip started to bleed, my mouth filling with the taste of copper. And without hesitation, he put both of his hands around my throat and started choking me. I had my keys in my left hand and I was trying to jab him in the arm with them to lose his grip. He saw this, let his grip on my throat go and pinned my hands against my chest with one hand. He grabbed the keys out of my hand, and dug them in my left wrist. “Oh you want to fucking stab me with keys?!” He screamed. The key punctured and I screamed with everything I had. I was kicking my legs. Trying to move my elbows. Squirming to get him off of me. Blood running down my chin from my now busted lip, his roommate finally came out of his room, and he said “kyle man what the fuck are you doing?!” When Kyle heard his roommates voice he instantly let go of my wrists, got off of me, and left the house in a rush. He had been caught finally. Someone witnessed how reckless he is.

His roommate just stood there in complete shock, looking down at me on the floor with blood running down my neck from my lip, blood dripping down my arm from the key puncture. And he just stood there. Staring. It must have been a solid minute before he choked out “what the hell did he do to you?”

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

HC: Background&Bullets II

- Jo: Dancing Through Life

It’s a secret part of Jo’s life and history - her love for dancing - and had started from Ellen’s plan to make her little, spiritful daughter’s weekends full while waiting for her daddy to get home. It was an old studio space above the sketchy real estate agent in town that a collection of little girls in pink leotards would line up and do plie upon pirouettes for the hours of the morning. There was no air-conditioning, and Jo would soak through the black t-shirt and stripey leggings she wore after Ellen misunderstood that no uniform requirement didn’t mean that there wasn’t a social uniform. By the time Ellen realized - staying for a few extra minutes rather than dropping Jo off at the door - it had already been three months and her little girl was past worrying about what she wore, and standing out from the crowd.

Jo actually kept up with the sport - and she would kick anyone who said otherwise for quite a while in the back of the knees - well into her teens and right until she left for college; though not quite as frequently as she once did. Not that Ellen or anyone else was aware of it. Paying for the classes with her pocket money and from cash slipped out of the register, Jo would run into town, complete a class, and run back home as a sort of chance to avoid or escape the stresses and fights back at the bar for a few hours. The only person who had any idea was Ash, and he’d cover for her regularly if asked what she was up to.

It wasn’t just the formalized styles like ballet Jo liked though. She would shimmy her way around the bar as the night wore on - lining up her favorite songs on the jukebox and swinging her hips as she cleared the tables off and wiped down surfaces. She would have her CD player set up and playing tunes all day when she’d hide away pretending to do school work. She would lay out on Ash’s bed as he had thrash screaming out of his own radio while he clicked away at some work and she would kick her feet in the air to whatever tune she could pick out of the noise. She would gently sway when Rick’s hands wrapped around her waist and he would laugh about her being such a girl. Jo would swing her way about the bar in Duluth when no one was watching, she would bop her head in time with the radio on her way driving back home, and she would sometimes find herself spinning in time to the swell of music between chores - so long as no one was watching.

- Jo & Ash: Brotherhood

It took a few months for them to really warm up to one another - too many broken relationships and too many lost relations and too many issues between the both of them to make bonding all that quick. But their relationship turned from two people living in the same house and who would play poker or pool and laugh with each other but barely knew much of either’s lives the night of Jo’s first-ever date.

Ash had been working behind the bar with Ellen, covering Jo’s shift after she’d rather quietly and embarrassedly said she had said ‘yes’ to going to see a movie with one of the guys from her automotive class. He’d had curly hair, that was all Jo had said about him, and Ellen had been ecstatic at Jo being open to doing something with anyone not connected to the hunting community. Ash had been ambivalent - being 22 and not interested in the actions of a 16-year-old and her romances after how much trouble Jo got into the previous year with the whole Gordon Thing. He regretted the ambivalence when he picked up the bar’s phone after it had chirped through two unanswered calls back-to-back while he and Ellen had been swamped. Jo’d stood in the lobby for thirty minutes, tickets in her hand and a Diet Coke waiting until the movie started and she spotted the guy and his friends walking in laughing, not once looking in her direction even as she waved.

The drive back from the cinema, he’d pulled off to the side of the road and then turned the car around and sped through to the other side of town after noticing Jo’s tears. That moment was when his view shifted from annoying teenager to his annoying teenage sister in his heart. Jo’s view shifted from the weird geeky guy renting out a room to her weird geeky guy as he’d taken a baseball bat from the back of his truck and proceeded to smash every window, mirror and chrome fenders before peeling back towards the roadhouse as Jo laughed so hard her tears changed from sad to happy.

After that, their entire friendship had changed, and Jo would spend half her time at home curled up at the end of the other’s bed as he worked, or sitting in the back of the tray of his truck, or going shooting out the back with beer cans each time Ash would finish one. He’d become quickly the first person Jo would go to about anything, to share anything, to confide in. And Jo became the number-one-person in the MIT-dropout’s life, his very best friend and his biggest supporter when anyone gave him crap for his mullet or his fashion sense, his choice in drinks or if it took a little longer than expected for him to get some information to them. Jo was his fierce protector in her world of hunters, and Ash was her fearless confidant and supporter in the world of civilians.

- Ash: Story of a Genius

Growing up a genius in a trailer park was his life. Ash never expected to achieve more than a low-paying job, a motor home of his own and a wife and three kids. Nights spent yelling at each other over whose fault it was they were still in the trailer and his own love slowly turning to resentment and simmering rage. A few police drive-bys over the noise, a DV record and his wife sneering at him as he was put in the back of a wagon when she’d hit him first. The story his father had played out before him was what he’d expected growing up, and it wasn’t until one teacher realized his potential that he started to expect anything more of himself. He ended up at a prestigious school that required uniforms and had a coat of arms stitched on his blazer, a school that gave him a full ride and he buzzed his hair short to avoid looking out of place. A school that pushed him and he soon found himself graduating two years early and in a place with another full-ride scholarship at MIT - working on computer programming and robotics for fun.

He finished his four-year degree by the time he was 20, and for a lack of anything else to do, a lack of ambition or idea or goal, Ash stayed on for a doctorate. He was halfway through his thesis when the realization that he hated what he was being turned into - the way he spoke had changed, the way he looked so different from his friends and family when he returned home in Summer break to see his father drinking away his life, the way he no longer connected or understood the world he’d grown up in and come from, how he hadn’t had an independent thought since he was 10 - and that was when he pawned his CD player, his array of computer gear and tech aside from his laptop, and his sedan. He packed a change of underwear, his laptop, and his wallet up in a backpack and bought the first bus ticket out of the city.

He hadn’t expected it when he ended up in the interchange in the midwest. He hadn’t expected the first guy to pull over as he walked down the side of the road to give him a lift even further into nowhere. And he definitely hadn’t expected to be kicked out of the car on an interstate surrounded by paddocks and nothing else as he’d pointed out a problem with the man's logic that there was something inherently weaker about women than men. He’d walked for several miles before a dusty car park and a worn Roadhouse appeared before him, and the moment the perky young blonde pulled out a chair across from him, he had found somewhere he could relearn who he was.

- Jo & Ash: Weekend Wastelands

The last two and a half years of Jo’s teenage years spent at the Roadhouse were pretty much the same over and over. On weekdays she had to go to school. A waste of time and a waste of energy and a waste of opportunities that she could be out on the road learning something or at the Roadhouse learning more and reading more. Nights were spent faking her way through homework for all of half an hour before either bussing tables, working behind the bar pulling beers and pouring spirits, deep frying onion rings and French fries, and flipping burgers while Ash would tug at the back of her apron or flick her with his own apron ties, dancing about the bar once the regulars had filtered out and she would occasionally be spun about with a laugh as the brother-from-another-life would catch her hands and twirl her between tables before they’d get shouted at to get back to work.

But on the weekend - Jo could kick back, relax, and run wild until the bar would open.

She would go for a run, she would practice her shooting, she would take her bow set out, she would even go rabbit hunting. She would lie under the clouds pointing out strange shapes as she’d pass a joint back to Ash. She would play Duck Hunter and beat his ass every time. She would learn how to throw a punch and how to get out of a hold, all with her trusty brother acting as the attacker and laughing every time her fist would hit his cheek all the while until she’d hold a pack of peas against his face. She would call Gordon from the phone line in Ash’s room while he would stare on disapprovingly, but never turn her in to her mother and would cover for her when she’d run out to see the other and always offer an ear for her to whine about how unfair it was she couldn’t be out on the road like the other - that was until he stopped calling after her seventeenth and she got the rude wake up that maybe her mother was right.

And after work, every single night of the week, Ash and Jo would sit out the back porch while the genius smoked a cigarette and the teen would lean her head against his shoulder, talking about anything and everything, before she’d finally be convinced to go to sleep with a promise to stay up later the next night.

- Ash: The Big Brother Chronicles

There was the time he smashed the jerkoff who left Jo waiting - that was the first time Ash had really felt like his old self, like the little troublemaker who grew up having to fight for scraps and respect, like a man who was supposed to protect his mother or his sister from trouble. That had been a wake-up for him, and Ash had started growing out his mullet that very day as he remembered one of the older boys who lived two trailers over that had always been the strongest and most protective brother in the park; wanting to emulate that spirit the moment he picked the usually stoic or cheerful girl in tears.

Then there was the time he saw that fucking hunter, that fucking old disgusting pervert, kiss Jo goodbye that one time. It was the first time Ash had realized there was more than idolization between the two of them, and partnered with the information Ellen shared before the man came around again, he knew there wasn’t anything else to do for it. Ash faked an email from Jo - when he knew she would be away on a college tour that weekend with Ellen right after her seventeenth birthday - and when the man arrived, Ash broke his nose, his knee and five bones in his hand. Ash got a broken rib for himself in return before the other hunters and regulars in the bar managed to separate them. Recovering with the remains of his current stash, the computer geek had reconfigured Jo’s emails so none of them would ever get through to the other hunter and none of the older man’s would get through to her.

Next had been a slew of other hunters - young guys (more appropriately aged than the other one) but still not nice guys, ones that thought his little sister wasn’t worth much more than a quick roll in the hay out back or in the backseat of their car - that never got past a few flirtatious comments here and there before they found themselves with a friendly arm around their shoulder and a hissed explanation of just what could happen to them if they dared try anything with the perky blonde that smiled so wide at everyone. Then the schoolboys started up, sneaking around the Roadhouse with fake IDs that they’d even paid him for thinking that they wouldn’t be turned around by Ellen and her wicked grins, Ash didn’t need to step in on those but he definitely made it clear when he would slide the fakes to each of them through the crack of his truck window that if they tried to touch his sister they’d be eating gravel in no time.

But the easiest job of his, the easiest support he ever gave to his chosen sister, was to don ill-fitting suit pants, a white shirt and slick his mullet back against his head and slide the pretty corsage of bluebells over her wrist as he was the calm and steady rock to support her throughout the night. They’d found out the morning of - after she’d been the one to buy the tickets and even dragged him shopping two weeks earlier to buy the periwinkle blue ball gown of tulle - that it had been a last prank by the boys in her year. The last joke to get back at her for being ‘frigid’ and a ‘prude’, for having her ‘big brother destroy Pete’s car’, for having the gall to be disinterested in them even without the interventions from Ellen and Ash to dissuade them making a first move. Ash had glowered something fierce, driven into town and bought the first suit that fit him, and returned to drag her out in that pretty blue dress with her dusty combat boots and his leather jacket swimming off her shoulders out to the event. They’d stuck their fingers up in their ‘couples’ photo, while Ash had spun her about the dance floor in a swirl of tulle and leather. They’d spiked the fruit punch, Jo had rested her head on his shoulder during a slow song, and they’d ditched out on the rest of the evening before it hit 9pm after Jo had kneed the boy who asked her on the dare so hard in the balls that the boy had crumpled to the floor. They spent the rest of the night in a paddock between the lights of town and the Roadhouse - the pick-up truck lights illuminating the grass where Jo span and span under the stars while the rock station played on the radio and Ash had smoked a joint and drank a beer on the bonnet.

- Jo & Ash: Farewells

He had been the only person Jo had told before she took off. She’d come in through the back door and went straight to the Doctor’s office, tears still burning at her eyes but refusing to be shed. Ash had been the only one who understood how she felt. Who got why she was mad, and exactly who she was mad at. He was the one who handed her a wad full of cash, the keys to his truck and five credit cards he promised he’d take care of for her. Ash had been the one to kiss her on the forehead, throw her bag in the back of the cabin and squeeze her goodbye.

He had been the one she called to, directly to him, when a case was looking hard to crack. The only one she trusted to know where she was, what she was doing, and to help her figure out what she was after. Ash had been her one connection home, and while she had sent her mom postcards from all over the country with no message, Ash was the one who got emails every other day, full of her thoughts and fears, her hopes and her concerns. Ash was the one who helped her through the worst scrapes; and he was the one that convinced her to go to Duluth to rest up and work the bar there for her aunt and uncle when she had broken her foot on the case before chasing down a werewolf.

Ash had been the reason she ever went back to the Roadhouse, the only reason she ever returned to Nebraska while she’d still been alive the first time. To see the burnt-out husk of the bar in the dusty car park, and to sit under the old oak tree out the back they had laid out under for years in the Summers to bury the one old flannel of his she’d taken with her. The only thing left of him she had to put away until she met up with her mom and inherited his watch instead.

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Your show should be freakier (please add more Marsha)

- Nature Tapes

Apologies Mr. Tapes but we do not do someone twice here! If there is anyone else you would like to request please do inform me!

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when is might.. hee hee hoo hoo

the very handsome might could is October 9th!

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hey, listen, dude...

-@hilo-daily

go on.

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by the way im bisexual

~ camp

Doesn't make you any less attractive Dear!

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everyone wants me carnally

~ camp :)

You know I do, both inside and out! [Wink]

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Question .. When will Camp and Dr. Apollo respectively be on the show?

Asking for a friend

Camp Vernon and Dr Apollo will be October 13 and October 15 dear viewer!

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OH GOD DR APOLLO WILL BE ON HERE....... OH NO

The People can't resist a good looking old man you know.

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is nat going to be here

every character is going to be here! Including nat!

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when its your turn on the smash or pass show im taking it as a challenge

~ camp >:3c

Oh please do my love.. I'd love to see what you can do.. [Corry winked again, a small blush evident on his cheeks though he tried to ignore it]

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heyyy girl. are you an hvac system? because air cold hot blow like cold air blow not

~ camp <33

You know...

I could blow you next if I were one [Wink]

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(Rein I have no time to be in character right now please please please PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GIVE ALL PHOTOS OF CORRY RN OR I WILL COMMIT CRIMES PLEAAASDEEEEEE)

— @mx-heartacoustic

Boom.

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whens mode? the blue one

- camp

Mod is unfortunately not on my list yet since they're in the hospital but not to fret dear viewer! They will be on soon enough!