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shotgun--rider · 4 years ago

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Rumor

A Jensen x Reader oneshot

Y/N’s never considered how many suspiciously snuggly photos there are of her and her best friend. Then they all come out in a Buzzfeed article, published just in time for everyone to grill her during her solo panel. Now what?

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: Really dumb fluff, everyone’s anxious, Jared and Briana are sick of everyone’s shit

A/N: This is dumb and fluffy and dangerously song-fic territory but it showed up and demanded to be written so here you go. I have no idea if this is actually any good. Enjoy?

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You were the epitome of normal, growing up. You had decent grades, run-of-the-mill hobbies, and an average high school cashier job. You could hop on your bike (and later, borrow your parents’ car) and take yourself to the coffee shop, or to a friend’s, and the only people that would look twice at you were drivers checking to make sure the kid on the bike didn’t steer into traffic.

You didn’t win any “most likely to” awards in the yearbook, your college major was undecided for an embarrassing length of time, and your 300-odd Instagram followers were comprised of friends and some polite acquaintances from welcome week. And you didn’t mind. You were perfectly happy to go through your day-to-day without turning heads and making waves.

That was all before you’d answered an open casting call on a whim, strapped for cash and mostly there because a sparkly website proclaiming “50 Easy Side Hustles!” had suggested spending your weekends as an extra if you lived in a big filming city. Before your three-episode contract in a show you’d never bothered to watch turned into a series regular.

Now, you’re pretty much guaranteed to have your face splashed across the internet every time you stick a toe off the end of your L.A. property line. Even if the paparazzi aren’t there to get you in Page Six with some wildly exaggerated nonsense, a fan somewhere will snap a blurry photo and upload it somewhere for people to shout about you in the comments section. You’ve never gotten used to being tagged in edits of your own face, or watching your follower count creep steadily upwards. You’re just… you. You’ve always been just the normal, average girl from a nothing-special hometown.

Even after your third year running on Supernatural, you still forget. You still make it all the way to the end of the block before you remember that the person shouting your name is the bodyguard you accidentally abandoned two errands ago. You still get confused when the restaurant wait staff stares at you, still get annoyed calls from your publicist begging you to at least try to appear in fewer coffee shop paparazzi pictures looking like a disgruntled zombie who’s never seen a hairbrush. (Sue you, you can’t be expected to be functional before a cup of coffee.)

You’re a brilliant actress, an unexpected fan-favorite, relatable to everyone in your autograph line...and you’re kind of a terrible celebrity. Unlike certain child models turned actors straight at 18 you may know, this isn’t a world you were trained in. Which is probably why it doesn’t even occur to you that being caught frequently in the company of your best friend might look like something until you’re staring at your own name in a headline on your phone screen, in line at Starbucks before your first panel of the con weekend.

Y/N L/N’s Secret Relationship With Co-Star Jensen Ackles, howls the bold-printed headline, and you blink stupidly at the letters, uncomprehending, until you realize that someone’s trying to get your attention. “Sorry, what?”

The barista looks impatient, suppressing an eyeroll and starting her spiel before cutting off halfway with a squeak. “Oh, my god, you’re her! I’m sorry, I’m just… you’re literally my favorite!” She’s blushing and stuttering and has a near-death grip on the empty coffee cup she was preparing to write your name on.

“Oh,” you reply, forcing the fog of confusion from your brain and slapping on a smile. “Hi, you caught me.”

“Can I...um…” the girl reaches into her back pocket and sheepishly produces her cell phone, complete with a flaming pentagram case. “Um, selfie?”

You smile indulgently, leaning over the counter. The fans are one of the best parts, really, and it’s never a hardship to make someone smile. (That is, when they’re not selling rumors and lies to the tabloids, you think grumpily.)

The barista girl pulls back with a wide smile and a full-face blush, and keeps glancing shyly up at you while she punches in your usual order, plus the second coffee Jensen texted you this morning to beg for. “So I guess Jensen’s around here too, then, right?” she asks perkily, taking your card.

“Uh...sorry, what?”

She shrugs like it’s obvious. “Since you flew in together,”

You blink rapidly, feeling stupid. You’re obviously missing the punchline somewhere. “We, uh...didn’t. I mean...I flew out of L.A.,” you say cautiously. Your home city is already public knowledge, as is the fact that Jensen lives in Austin, and you can’t imagine she doesn’t know this.

Her eyes pop wide with curiosity. “Wait, so you’re not staying with him?”

This conversation is too much for your poor, jetlagged, coffeeless brain. “No?” you try weakly, so far past confused at this point that you might actually be getting a headache. “Why would I…”

Not that Jensen’s Austin house isn’t lovely, and not that you’d object to staying there, and not that you haven’t stayed there plenty of times before, but you’re pretty sure you’re still missing the point.

The barista lunges forward over the counter, leaning in to ask in a hushed voice, “Did you guys break up?”

An emphatic “No!” leaves your mouth so loudly that the old man in line behind you starts grumbling. “No, you don’t--”

“Get a move on,” Old Man grouches in the background. “I don’t care who you are,”

“Oh, good,” the girl cuts you off with a relieved grin. “You guys are so cute, you know? I mean, I kinda figured you had to have something going on, but actually seeing it--it’s going to be so much cuter if Dean and Sierra ever kiss now, oh my god--”

She devolves into a squeal, and the we’re not actually dating dies on your tongue. You have better things to do this morning than correct the misinformation of one teenage barista, so you end up just shaking your head and taking the two cups of coffee wearily. “Right, well, I’ve gotta go, so--” you duck around the old man and beeline for the door before anyone can say anything else. Oh, god, your publicist is so going to kill you.

***

Jared and Jensen are both in the green room when you make it back to the convention hotel, and you groan softly as you walk into the room. Once Jared hears about your so-called relationship, you’re never going to hear the end of it. Then again, better he hear it from you than find it in the tabloids. May as well bite the bullet now before it comes up in a Q&A.

“Hey,” you slide up to Jensen’s elbow, holding out the requested coffee cup as a preemptive truce. “So, we’re apparently dating now,”

Jensen snorts, shaking his head and swapping the coffee cup into his other hand so he can wrap his arm around your shoulders in greeting. “Yeah, I saw that.”

“I think I may have given a barista the impression we’ve had a tumultuous breakup,” you say ruefully, tilting your head up to look at him in apology. “Sorry,”

Jensen’s green eyes are dancing, though, and he throws back his head and laughs, still keeping you tucked close enough that you can feel his whole body shake. “Of course you did, sweetheart,”

It’s pretty much the reaction you expected from Jensen, who’s so used to your antics at this point that he just gives you a fond smile and moves on to damage control. Jared, on the other hand, is...not commenting, and suspicion cuts short your quiet enjoyment of being hugged against Jensen. It took the boys a while to feel comfortable messing with you when you first got on set, but after they figured out you gave as good as you got, they’d never yet missed an opportunity to tease and prank you.

You squint at Jared warily. “Why aren’t you reacting?”

Jared’s lips immediately start twitching, but he makes a valiant attempt at a mock-concerned face. “Oh shit, sorry. Here, tell me again and I’ll pretend like I’m surprised this time,”

Unwilling to bother unwinding yourself from under Jensen’s arm, you extend a childish foot in the direction of Jared’s shins, scowling at him. He dodges easily, laughing, and tosses out, “Someone should really tell Buzzfeed they’re reporting really old news,”

“Shut up and drink your damn coffee, Padalecki,” you shoot back without any real venom.

“Oh, you mean my hotel coffee? The coffee I got stuck with because you only buy Starbucks for Jensen?”

Jensen straightens up proudly, no doubt making a face at Jared over the top of your head. “Y/N just likes me better. That’s why she’s my best friend.”

You roll your eyes, ducking under Jensen’s arm and a few steps away. “You both suck,” you deadpan, resisting an internal wince at the friendzone. “Now shut up and let me drink my coffee, I have to be on stage in fifteen minutes,”

And God, but your head is way too scrambled for a panel right now. Fifteen minutes is nowhere close to enough time to get your shit together, and you’re going to have to somehow walk out there and not let everyone know.

You take a seat halfway across the room, watching Jared and Jensen still standing there, heads bowed together, arguing quietly about something. Jensen’s starting to wear an annoyed expression and he still manages to look beautiful and goddamnit this is how you got in trouble in the first place.

You scroll listlessly through your phone, a headache beginning behind your eyes, and freeze when you realize that you left the damn article open. The headline photo is a picture of you and Jensen on a sidewalk in L.A., caught mid-conversation with Jensen’s hand on your back and a stupid, dopey look on your face while you stare up at him like he hung the moon. Fuck, you’re an idiot.

A hasty scroll through the rest of the article reveals more of the same, and you could kick yourself for making your dumb crush so obvious. The photo captions are practically mocking you, labelled with things like “an intimate evening for Ackles and L/N” and, under a picture of the two of you at a beach, “We might be a little mad that the two most attractive people are together”.

Well, at least now you know what every single question at your panel is going to be about. And somehow you have to figure out how to play this off like it’s nothing. Of course I don’t have a crush the size of a mid-sized whale on Jensen, hahaha, that’s such a hilarious idea!

Your only saving grace is that clearly, Jensen doesn’t think anything of it. It’s nothing more than a brief joke to him and Jared, and as much as that should bring you relief, it still stings to know that he’s obviously never bothered to think of you that way. And why would he? For all Buzzfeed’s nonsense about you making an attractive couple, Jensen Ackles miles above your league.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Misha sitting down next to you, an easy smile on his face as he nudges your shoulder with his own. “So, welcome to the club,”

Typically, you and Misha are pretty close friends, but your patience is too short this morning for any of his shit. “What club?” you shoot back grumpily.

“People who the internet have declared in love with Jensen Ackles,” Misha returns, grinning like it’s obvious.

“Ha, ha. See, except when that happens to you, people think it’s funny,”

“It is funny,”

“Not for me!” you explode, belatedly wincing at your harsh tone. “You and Jensen fuck around on stage and that works for you. If I don’t get my shit together in the next five minutes, I’m getting my name dragged through stupid tabloids and laughed straight off the show because I couldn’t keep my goddamn stupid pathetic crush under control!”

“Hey,” Misha waits until you meet his blue eyes. “That’s not going to happen. Okay? It’s not,”

“Misha--”

“Y/N,” Misha returns firmly. “It’s going to be okay. Jensen would never let anything happen to you. And you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”

You sigh softly, nodding. Rationally, you know he’s right. But mostly, as much as you’re worked up about the panel, your fear is that Jensen is going to be the one laughing at you, and you don’t know how to explain that. “Yeah,” you say dully, just as a convention worker comes forward to collect you.

“If it’s really going to shit, I’ll come distract everyone,”

“Somehow, I think that would be worse,” you shoot back over your shoulder as you start walking to the stage. Breathe, Y/N. You’re fine.

You wait for the introductions to finish and take your place on the stage, a slightly breathy laugh escaping into the mic as you look out at the crowd. That is a lot of eyes watching your every move. And they’re on your side, you remind yourself. It’s the fans who’ve been tireless supporters of you and your character, this whole time.

“Hey, guys,” you clear your throat. “What’s up?”

You chatter for a while about whatever you can think of, telling an edited version of the grumpy Starbucks man this morning and rambling a little about Jared’s latest on-set antics. All too quickly, though, you run out of things to say, leaving you with no choice but to ask for questions.

At first, to your great relief, they’re pretty tame. You spend a solid few minutes breaking down Sierra’s latest character arc, and the time she’s spending hunting on her own. You do get a few questions about whether she and Dean could get together when she gets back with the brothers, but as long as it stays firmly in the realm of your characters, you’re not worried.

“And what’s your name?” You ask gently, trying to reassure the nervous young woman at the microphone.

“Uh, Y/N…”

“I love that name!” you wink at her, rearranging yourself in the chair to be more comfortable. “What do you want to know, Y/N?”

“Uh,” she stutters, her face blushing pink. “You’re my favorite actress, and, I, um,”

“That’s very sweet,” you interject, nodding to encourage her.

“I just, uh, really want good things for you, and I just wanted to ask if, um, areyoureallydatingJensen?” she spits out all in one breath. “Cause you deserve him,”

You blink, shifting in your seat. You’d arrived at the elephant in the room. Damn.

“Uh,” escapes your mouth as you frantically try to construct a diplomatic sentence. “No, actually, no, we’re not.” I wish. “The, um, the article was a surprise to us too!” You added a little shrug in as punctuation, trying to play it off.

“But you guys look so cute together!” Other Y/N exclaims. “He looks at you like--” she cuts off, biting her lip so hard you can see the white from the stage. “Nevermind. Sorry.”

“No worries,” you assure her casually, like you’re not dying to know what she was going to say. “Next question?”

The next one up is another young woman, this time much bolder in her question. “But if you were given the opportunity, would you date Jensen Ackles?”

God, Chuck, literally anyone please kill me. “I don’t know how to answer this without getting in trouble,” you finally laugh nervously. “This is a dangerous question,”

The audience all laughs loudly, some of them throwing out comments and suggestions. “In the interests of not getting killed in my bed tonight,” you say lightly when they’ve quieted. “I’m going to skip that question,”

There’s really no saving you, though. After that first question, it’s like a dam has broken and everyone wants to know about your relationship with Jensen. What do you think of his house in Austin and does he cook for you and what do you do between takes and where’s your favorite place to go together. Someone even asks if you’re hooking up even if you’re not dating, which you’re positive turns your face completely purple before you get through redirecting that fan.

An hour later, you stagger off the stage mentally exhausted and thoroughly grumpy.

“Ouch,” Briana sympathizes, sliding up beside you as you grab a water bottle in the green room.

“Can’t wait for my dumb red face to trend on Tumblr,” you mutter, wondering darkly if you could just jump out one of the windows.

Briana laughs like she knows something you don’t, and rubs a hand over your back soothingly. “Come on, let’s get you out of your head before your photos,”

The two of you end up on a walk a few blocks from the convention hotel, fresh coffees in hand and Briana chattering away while you nod along. It’s not that you’re tuning her out, exactly, you’re just...overwhelmed. You do, however, notice when she stops talking.

“Are you listening to me?” she looks at you sharply.

“Sorry, B,” you mumble. “Got distracted. What?”

Briana shakes her head with loving exasperation. “I asked what you’re wearing to karaoke tonight,”

“I’m probably not going to--” you start.

“Oh, no you don’t. You can’t leave me there alone,” Briana interrupts, folding her arms across her chest.

“What do you mean, alone? Kim and Rich and literally everyone will be there,”

“You are not allowed to skip karaoke.” Briana says firmly, and you suddenly know how her daughter must feel when she’s misbehaved. “Besides, Jensen’s singing with Louden Swain beforehand. Don’t you want to see it?”

“Fine. But I’m wearing this,” you gesture to your plain black top and jeans. To be honest, you’re not sure if you actually do want to see Jensen perform, or bother with the rest of karaoke night. Mostly you just want to crawl into bed and put the covers over your head and pretend that you haven’t been making a fool of yourself all morning, but Briana is a force of nature when she wants something.

She smiles excitedly at your acquiescence, pulling out her phone for a moment to type something before you start heading back.

You nudge her teasingly with your elbow. “Your phone more exciting than me?”

Briana just slides it away hastily before you can read more than Jared’s name over her shoulder. “Just taking care of something.”

There’s something she’s not telling you, but you don’t feel like digging right now. You’re just focusing on getting to the end of this convention without spilling all your secrets and looking like an idiot.

By the time you’re sitting down in the seats for Louden Swain’s set, your face is indeed all over Tumblr. (You always deny having the stupid app, but sometimes a girl’s gotta know what people are saying about her and her hot costars.) There’s comments full of stupid speculation that you’re hiding your relationship, including a whole thread about how you’re clearly hiding your secret threesome with Jensen and Misha. Great.

“Uh, okay,” a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Jensen’s on stage in front of the microphone, holding his guitar. “This was not part of my original plan, so...if this goes badly, it’s all Jared and Briana’s fault.”

The crowd laughs good-naturedly as your gaze snaps immediately to Briana. Infuriatingly, your friend just shrugs.

“This is a cover of a song neither of us wrote,” Jensen continues, gesturing between himself and Louden Swain behind him. “But I thought it could be fitting,”

He’s nervous, you realize, watching the way he’s fiddling with his guitar strap while he talks. But you have no idea what he’s doing. And you have no idea why he didn’t tell you. The two of you always know what stupid thing the other person is planning, especially stunts in front of the fans. But clearly not this time. With a sinking sense of dread, you wonder if maybe he does hate you a little bit after today, and that article. Maybe that’s why he’s not talking to you. You swallow hard against the sting in your throat, and Jensen starts playing.

The opening chords are definitely from a country song you vaguely recognize from the radio, and you wonder why this is Jensen’s choice over one of his own songs.

“Girl, you know I've known you forever / How many nights we hung out together,”

Across the room, Briana has an enormous smile on her face.

“My boys are laughing and tap me on the shoulder / Making a motion like, ‘Could y'all get any closer?’” He punctuates the words with a little scowl in Jared’s direction.

“There's a rumor going 'round about me and you / Stirring up our little town the last week or two / So tell me why we even trying to deny this feeling / I feel it, don't you feel it too? / There's a rumor going 'round, and 'round, and 'round / What d'you say we make it true?”

There are a lot of people suddenly making noise around you as they come to the same realization that you are, but you’re frozen in your seat. The rumor is you. He’s talking about you. Jensen’s singing for you. And you should be elated but your mind is stuck on a loop of what the fuck there’s no way this is real.

You don’t even realize that the song is over until everyone is clapping and you’re still stuck staring with embarrassingly wide eyes, Jensen up on stage with an embarrassed dusting of red across his face and a slowly deflating expression.

“Hey,” Jared’s elbow digs hard into your ribs suddenly. “Please do something. I can’t take any more of him like this,”

“What--oh--shit!” spills out of your mouth as you stand hastily, your phone tumbling off your lap. “I’m just gonna--”

By some miracle, you make it through the crush of people and around to the backstage area, your heart racing unevenly in your chest. You have no idea what you’re supposed to say, or if Jensen will be there, or if you’re even interpreting this right. Maybe it’s all just wishful thinking. No, Jared wouldn’t have encouraged you if that were true. Would he?

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you end up plowing straight into Jensen’s chest, his arm sliding automatically around your waist as you wobble off balance. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

He steadies you, green eyes searching your face with a flicker of vulnerability. “Hey,”

“Hey,” you whisper back. You have no idea what happens now.

With his free hand, Jensen rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, if that was too much--”

“No!” you shake your head quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just...processing. I...it was really sweet, Jen,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “I just… me? Are you sure?”

“Why not you?” Jensen’s face wrinkles in confusion. He moves both hands to your waist, the warmth of his skin bleeding through your thin shirt as he tugs you closer. “Y/N,”

There’s something in you screaming that you might not get to do this again, that he’s going to come to his senses, that the whole thing is a dream, and before you can second guess yourself you launch yourself up onto your tiptoes and kiss him.

Your arms go around his neck while Jensen wraps you up tighter against his chest and it’s not fireworks, or earth shattering, or anything so dramatic. His mouth moving against yours just feels like home and love and of course. Of course you were going to get here, of course it was going to be like this.

Jensen lifts you off your feet for a moment before breaking the kiss, and he looks just breathless and flushed enough that you’re equal parts proud and turned on.

“Of course it’s you,” he murmurs, one hand under your chin to tilt your head up to him. “Of course I love you. You’re my best friend.”

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Something ate my taglist! If you want to be tagged, please message me!

#supernatural #jensen ackles #supernatural rpf #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #spn #rpf #x reader #reader insert #oneshot

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renaerys · 4 years ago

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PPG One-Shot: Six Degrees Chiller (Brick/Blossom)

A new cute one-shot in honor of @carriedreamerx birthday! In the same high school AU as part 1, part 2, and part 3, but can totally stand-alone. Also posted on my AO3. Tune in for some laughs and some Reds cuteness!

Summary: Brick goes deodorant shopping. It doesn't end well. (Or does it??)

xxx

Brick squinted at the nine-foot shelf packed with a full color wheel of deodorants and antiperspirants. The sheer surfeit of brands and scents was as daunting to behold as it was absolutely batshit insane—how many ways did people need to not smell like a dirty gym sock?

He picked a random stick and scowled at the label as if it had offended him and all his future progeny. Who the fuck would want to smell like mango lassi?

The squeak of a shopping cart rolling down the aisle sent Brick into a febrile panic for a hot second, and he shoved the saccharine deodorant stick back onto the shelf. A geriatric woman with a hunched back, a bright head scarf, and eyes so folded over with wrinkles it was a miracle she could see anything at all wheeled her cart slowly past Brick, who froze where he stood. She smiled politely at him, and he nodded out of sheer self-preservation instinct. The moment she passed him, he yanked the bill of his red cap lower over his eyes.

“Get a grip,” he grumbled. He was an eighteen-year-old guy buying deodorant, not stool softener. He was totally casual and had absolutely no reason to be so fucking paranoid. Nobody who might recognize him was coming to Cooper’s Market at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.

Brick wiped his clammy palms on his jeans and searched the shelves for what he’d come for so he could hurry up and leave. There it was, fifth shelf in a sea of sleek black and edgy, neon letters: Axe Ice Chill.

“Okay, do you consider yourself more of a music lover, sports star, gaming guru, or style icon?” Boomer had asked as he sat cross-legged on the sofa with his laptop open to the Axe “Find Your Magic” test a few months ago.

“Sports star,” Butch had said on his left, and poked the screen that wasn’t a touch-screen.

“That’s you, moron,” Brick had said, totally above this stupid test. “Pick style icon.”

Boomer grinned. “Oh yeah, your hoodies are so stylin’.” He clicked the next question. “Signature scent? Huh, maybe warm and aromatic?”

“Sounds like one of those Yankee holiday candles,” Butch had said.

Unfortunately, he had a point.

“Well, you're not exactly woody and earthy, and you’re definitely not fruity and sweet—”

“Just go to the next one.” Brick clicked on “fresh and cool” and waited for the screen to load. “Smellin’ good!” the loading page flashed at him. Jesus fucking Christ.

When the quiz presented a true or false statement, Butch moved like he had a bug up his ass and slammed the touchpad before Brick or Boomer could do anything about it.

Boomer tried not to laugh. “Dude, come on.”

“Please, he’s a punk-ass dweeb who’d never make the first move in a fight, let alone on a girl—” Butch had taunted.

Brick punched him in the throat with his Super speed and smiled at the sound of his asshat brother gagging. “Choke and die, motherfucker.”

Butch wheezed as he laughed through the pain, and Brick and Boomer breezed through the more generic age and appearance questions: under 18, long hair (“Mane Man!” the quiz gushed, and Brick almost melted Boomer’s laptop right there), and natural look. After an artificially anticipatory loading screen, a picture of a dude with a clown nose crowd surfing in a sepia Instagram filter appeared on the screen with the generic “Be your best self!” encouragement in blocky letters superimposed upon it, and finally the expert, personalized recommendation for Brick’s body spray needs.

“Because you’re hotter when you’re chill.” Brick had cringed when he read that idiotic tagline the first time, and he cringed reading it again now in the deserted personal hygiene aisle where he prayed no one would find him buying this cry-for-help vanity spritz.

However.

He sprayed a bit of mist in the air and reveled in that cool, icy scent that wasn’t a scent so much as a feeling. Six degrees chiller in a bottle. The first time he’d tried it (under great duress), he’d griped and bitched and slammed his bedroom door to get away from his howling brothers. Settled on his bed with a frown, he had to admit it did cool him off. It was almost pleasant. The smell wasn’t overwhelming like that tiger piss Butch bathed in on the daily. But it wasn’t out of this world compared to the generic shit he’d been using before.

It wasn’t until Blossom sneezed on their way out of AP Lit that her ice breath—and understanding—hit him with the force of a cold snap to the balls.

“Sorry, did I get you?” she’d said, abashed as she covered her mouth with one hand and fished out a bottle of Purell from her messenger bag with the other. Her ice splatter fast melted on his shoulder as his too-warm body absorbed the cold with a bizarre, but extremely pleasant, shiver down his spine.

Son of a bitch, but he had a kink.

Which, of course, spiraled way the hell out of control when he found himself here months later with a recycled shopping bag he’d brought so he could carry the three bottles of Axe Ice Chill he planned to purchase home, because Brick planned ahead and liked to keep his bathroom well-stocked.

Which also, of course, was why at that very moment, fate decided to punch him in the dick.

“Bubbles, you have, like, fourteen bottles of shampoo at home! You don’t need another one,” Buttercup groused at 8 in the goddamned morning on a Sunday.

“Those are all different products, not just shampoo. Honestly, Buttercup.” Bubbles zipped into the aisle with Buttercup on her tail just at the moment Brick had his second panic attack in the span of five minutes and completely lost his shit.

He launched the bottle of Axe Ice Chill so hard into the ceiling that it lodged in there tighter than a prairie-dogging turd.

“Brick?” Blossom’s hand on his shoulder nearly sent him yeeting after his abused body spray, if the sheer mortification didn’t rob him of further motor function and exactly one hundred percent of his brain cells.

Like her sisters, she wore a jacket over her pajama pants. They must have just popped over for some last-minute breakfast staples and a side of peer humiliation. But even in those criminally hideous Ugg boots and five boxes of pancake mix in her shopping basket at 8 on a fucking Sunday morning, her smile glowed.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he returned lamely, because that was all she was getting from him until his neurological functions rebooted.

“Hi, Brick,” Buttercup said, suspicious like usual and searching for some excuse to bust his balls for a laugh. “What’re you doing here?”

The Super sisters had cornered him in front of the Teen Spirit, which came in an absolutely frightful eighteen scents because there was nothing pubescent teenagers needed more than eighteen reassurances that their social survival depended on smelling like a potpourri candy bar.

“Shopping, obviously,” Bubbles said. “Ooh, Brick, you have straight hair. What do you think?” She held up two bottles of brightly colored free-range, organic hair shit.

“I think I was just leaving,” he managed.

“Empty-handed?” Buttercup peered at him like he might transform into a literal dick with ears if she only managed not to blink for long enough. He could smell the threat of a joke on her.

“They didn’t have the brand I wanted.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Bubbles said, genuinely stricken.

“Girls, let’s get going. I really want those pancakes,” Blossom said.

“We better grab more syrup. Buttercup finished it all,” Bubbles said, already moving away. She dropped both hair products in Blossom’s basket, not bothering to choose between them.

“Oh please, everybody knows you and the Professor are the syrup fiends in this house.” Buttercup floated after her and waved to Brick. “Hey, tell that shithead to answer my texts. He owes me $20.”

“Uh-huh,” Brick said, fully intending not to mention anything about this conversation to Butch at all.

“Sorry about your favorite brand being sold out,” Blossom said.

It’s fine, he would have said had she not caught his cheek in her hand and pressed a frosty kiss to the corner of his lips before he could do anything about it. Frozen fernlings crept over his cheek and chin, down his neck, and slowly absorbed through his now flushed skin, and he shivered. Without even thinking about it, he reached for her, but she was already walking away to catch up with her sisters.

When she got to the end of the aisle, she shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder and had the nerve to wink at him. “Stay cool, Brick.”

Red in the face and high on her, Brick just stood there like an idiot gawking at his kind of unofficial girlfriend and the singular dominating object of his fantasies, be they sexual or otherwise. What was dignity when she smiled at him like that? What was a paltry imitation in a bottle when she kissed him like that?

The paltry imitation fell from its hole in the ceiling and exploded on the tiled floor at Brick’s feet with a winter ferocity that, in that moment at least, rivaled Blossom’s in the heat of battle.

When Brick got home later that morning and Boomer asked him why he smelled like a snowman’s asshole, Brick burned the clothes on his back and spent the next half hour in the shower thinking about how he was going to convince Blossom to make the first move and finally make them official.

xxx

Y’all better appreciate the research that went into this fic. That Axe quiz is real and I took it pretending to be Brick, and it literally does spit out a photo of a dude wearing a clown nose in a club. If that’s not a sign from the Daddy that I’ve chosen the righteous path, then idk what is. Sacrifices to my Chrome search history were made for this fic in the name of celebrating Carrie, ergo, worth it.

#Blossick #PPG Reds #Blossom #Brick #Powerpuff Girls #PPG Fanfic #Powerpuff Girls Fanfiction #february fic prompts #ppg shook

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lamortexiii · 4 years ago

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Cryptic Mystic: In the End

To bounce off of the previous blog posting, I thought it would be fun to just hop right on into the topic of what happens after we die. After all, we just finished talking about souls and a bit of astral projection last time. From transcending to another place/dimension to reincarnation, there truly is a lot to cover when you start diving into the many beliefs and ideas that surround death and mortality/immortality. But what differentiates the scientific facts from myths and stories of olden days? For those who believe in one defined means to an end for us all, how do you know for a fact that what you believe is true? Have you ever questioned what is life after death? Hell, is there a life after death? Or maybe… it’s something else… something so obscure that our tiny human brains are nowhere near possessing the capabilities to understand it. In the end, readers can decide for themselves what is more likely to be true, or maybe… the answer to this cryptic question has been right in front of us all along? Maybe it is a combination of what we know but do not yet understand. Let’s talk shop, shall we?

Death. Happy for some, a time of joy and celebration for others, but likely a time of sadness and grief for most. Some welcome death with open arms, while yet others fear their mortality. The numerous speculations on what happens after we die is overwhelming. There are far too many ideas and beliefs that people hold in this regard. I’ll briefly cover a few of the more popular beliefs as to not make this blog super lengthy - because, ya know, your attention span and whatnot.

Scientifically, there are two types of death: clinical death and brain death. Clinical death is characterized by major organ failure (e.g. heart, liver, kidneys, etc.) until the body is completely rendered of functioning and the individual is officially pronounced dead. In brain death, solely the brain stops functioning, but the other organs within the body continue to work within their normal capacities. Creepy fun fact for you: the heart can beat for up to 30 minutes on its own after all brain cells have died. Once the heart stops it’s adios amigo. The remaining major organs that were barely hanging on have now lost blood flow, and life has ended. More creepy death fun facts: the gastrointestinal tract can live on its own for up to 3 days, and the complete decomposition of a body takes roughly 30 years! Crazy science stuff.

Now let’s take a look at some common beliefs and speculations of what happens when/after we die. Again, I want to remind you, readers, that in my eyes there is no right or wrong answer here. I am a firm believer in everyone having their own beliefs and respect all of them regardless of how obscure some naysayers may think that they are. I enjoy hearing stories from followers that help to further broaden my thought processes. If you ever have an interesting story or want to chime in with your thoughts please feel free to leave a comment here or shoot on over to Instagram and we can rap about it.

The belief that we transcend to another realm/dimension has been around for thousands of years and has been studied for decades. There is a lot to uncover here between recent scientific discoveries and human belief. Many people believe that many other dimensions exist, however, scientific exploration hasn’t fully found the golden answer to if and what these other dimensions may contain if they do indeed exist. We know that Earth has at least three dimensions: space—length, width, and depth—and one dimension of time. Modern physics posits that there is at least a fourth dimension of space, but that we can’t experience it. Maybe we can? Maybe we do but just haven’t put a label on it? Maybe the odd phenomena that happen across the world that people describe as being ghosts, aliens, and other paranormal activities are actually from the next dimension or another. There has been speculation that extraterrestrials come from another dimension through a portal that is already here on Earth rather than from the sky (outer space).

Give me an R! Give me an E! Hell, this word is too long and I’m not going to put you through reading a silly cheer for 5 minutes. Reincarnation - yet another commonly held belief of what happens when we die. For those of you who may have never heard of reincarnation, here is the quick and dirty version of the definition. Reincarnation posits that when we die our spirit/soul/whatever you want to call it, moves on to a new host. This host could be a human baby that is born the very second that you die OR you could possibly find yourself reincarnated as an animal, tree, flower, or any other living thing that you can find on Earth. Interesting concept indeed.

My favorite belief, that we go to Heaven or somewhere similar, is one that is believed by millions of people across the world. Wouldn’t it be nice to die and go to another world/place where nothing can do you harm, and just live out the rest of your existence in peace? Well, if you can believe it then it may just happen that way - or maybe not. I am fairly certain I have mentioned this in previous blogs, but religion can be thought of as a coping mechanism for that which we do not know or understand; the human way of putting a label on something to make ourselves feel better or like we are a part of something divine and much greater than us. Which, in all actuality, we very well may be a part of something divine and much greater than us, however, it is my personal opinion that we honestly have no fucking clue about the extent to which that is.

Now, this next one I threw in here because I personally found it to be interesting. In 2017 I was having a conversation with a friend about mystical things such as portals, extraterrestrials, etc. My friend informed me of a research video on YouTube about a company called CERN. He described this Swiss company as having built a circular-shaped machine that when you throw something into its core it disappears. However, other items have come through this machine and into the room from… wherever the other side is? Basically, these people have created a portal and no one knows about it. You’re welcome for the information. Within this research video, the guy who was describing all of this stuff went on to talk about how China had gifted the statue that sits in front of the CERN building. This particular statue is reported to represent the end of time and hell on Earth. There is a whole mythical background story about this statue - you need to check it out. The irony between the statue and this machine they made is uncanny. It made my jaw drop. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I haven’t been able to find the YouTube video again, so I am not sure if it got taken down because the guy exposed something that was supposed to be secret, or maybe I just suck at YouTube searches. Either way, I encourage you to do some digging on this one, because this type of information could potentially support the whole soul/spirit transcending into another realm/dimension belief. I am not a physicist, so I could be explaining this all wrong. You’ll just have to check out their website for yourself and see what it’s all about. → home.cern

There is also the belief that when we die nothing happens. We are dead and it is the end of who we once were. This belief is often held by Atheists and some Satanists if we’re using labels. However, many people believe this who aren’t subscribed to a religion or don’t want to necessarily put a label on who they are/what they believe. This is the grim reality of our existence. Maybe it all means… nothing… Now isn’t that depressing.

Then there are near-death experiences, which brings a whole different perspective into the mix. People all over the world have encountered near-death experiences. Many report shockingly similar experiences and stories. Some say they see a white light and follow it to a place of peace. I have heard people say that while they were legally deceased they found themself in a field of flowers or floating within the cosmos. A common theme found within these individuals is that once they have had their near-death experience, they aren’t afraid of death anymore - they welcome it with open arms. One woman on a documentary that I watched even went as far as to say that she didn’t want to come back from where she was and was disappointed when she was revived. These experiences could possibly support the theory of transcending to other dimensions or that there is a “heaven.” I can’t explain it, but I still find the information interesting to ponder upon.

Our mortality is evident, but what really happens when we die? These are just a short collection of ideas and beliefs that have been around for ages, however, there are many more to consider I’m sure. What do you think? Or should I say: what do you want to believe? Ultimately it’s your choice. Whatever brings you peace, serves you well, and is the right answer for you is what I advise you to turn to. This flesh and blood will decay for each of us one day - it’s inevitable. It is for this very reason why I say live life to the fullest. Regret nothing. Do what best serves you. Do what makes you happy. Take chances. Above all else - be the best version of yourself that makes you happy.

Cryptic Mystic Blog by PsychVVitch

www.LaMorteXiii.com

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flowerslightning · 4 years ago

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The Act of Recognizing and Missing Someone - Cloud Strife with Tifa edition

Ever wondered how on earth Cloud could quickly tell the girl inside the chocobo car was Tifa? Well, I do. This is just a gibberish and a little bit educational talk.. But here's what I found. Quite interesting (and hella confusing) for me

It’s kinda hard to explain, I don’t really understand this topic, unlike this part here where I explained about Cloud’s messed up memories. But I still want to share this with u guys.

Disclaimer : I'm still a student (or am I? This quarantine sucks) Psychiatric/Psychology/Neurobiology arent my major field. The interpretations I’ve made here probably have some errors here and there. Pls correct me if I’m wrong or misleading u

The biggest question is, how comes we can recognize someone's face? How well our brain able to detect someone's facial features, body postures and even voices to the point we can recall their name? This is a hard topic,so im just gonna focus on the visual part.

We all have been asking this to ourselves, how on earth Cloud was able to recognize the girl in the chocobo car was Tifa by just looking behind her back. It seems impossible, does it? Nothing is impossible for fictional world, ahahah.. But it actually makes sense in real life

And here's the answer based on what I've read and understood.

Our brain can be divided into six sections, and each section has their own functions and neurons. Based on studies, the sections inside the brain has something that we can call as ‘Face Patches’. It contains a numerous amount of specific neurons that help us to code ‘faces’ and recall memory/facts in our brain. So, when we look at someone, this patches work their cell and recall a name/fact. Some people can recognize a face fast while others need time to identify a face. Everyone has different ability for face recognising

In the region of our brain, one of them associated with ‘declarative memory’, it consists of facts and events that can be consciously recalled. Declarative memory can be further divided into two group - Episodic Memory and Semantic Memory. Focus on Episodic Memory, just like how the name suggest, its a ‘repeating’ of something, either event, places, associated emotions and even the faces. Cloud had lots of ‘episodic memory’ with Tifa, from when he was a kid till he became an adult.

Face recognition feels effortless compare to body posture. But actually both are challenging computational problem, especially the body posture part- eg the way someone walk, the way they jump etc. However, studies show that when u have a ‘connection’ with that person, just by looking behind the person’s back or look at the way they walk, the neurons inside your brain can work really fast to detect who that person is. It also involves with the hormones u have at that moment. The deeper connection u have with them, the faster ur brain work. So, u dont really have that A-HAA moment when u meet someone u’re connected with. The connection- or specifically the emotions we have has a particularly strong influence on attention, especially in motivating someone’s action and behavior. When u were shopping with ur mom and suddenly u got lost, u couldnt remember what color of ur mom’s dress but ur somewhat ‘instinct’ (kinda similar like how a cub loses its mom. They will hurry to find them) told ur eyes to go look for her sight. When ur brain memory detect someone ‘familiar’ like ur mom and u went to approach her, the neurons of ‘Face Patches’ would do its job to recognize the face and tell either that woman was ur mom or not.

So, based on this comprehension. I have 3 theories or understanding on how Cloud could immediately tell that girl was Tifa .

First, bcause we all knew he and Tifa were childhood friends. So, his brain was already familiar with Tifa’s body posture. Besides knowing that Cloud had a crush on her since young, pretty sure that boy always had his eyes on her (and until now, he still has it). So Cloud really got attached with Tifa in many ways. However, the prob is, didnt they got separated for at least 5 years, and Tifa’s body has changed, how could Cloud implied the memory of younger Tifa to this older Tifa? Okaaay, lets see if my second theory can support this statement

My second theory, Cloud was so used to watch Tifa’s back, wasnt he? Since he was a kid, he wanted to approach Tifa and the gang but he couldnt. So I assumed he always stay behind, watching Tifa’s back while the other kids were playing around. Plus, he also followed Tifa to the mountain and he watched her back. There was a scene where Cloud mistaken a kid at the Sector 5 slum to Tifa kid. And in the Crisis Core, he stayed behind the team and there he watched Tifa’s back in 15y/o version again. So, his memory about Tifa body posture was intact in his mind. Girls’ body got mature early and fast. I dont think there was much difference between 15y/o and 20y/o Tifa’s back posture and her hair. Her hair did get longer but u cant really tell how long the hair was through the chocobo car window.

Combining the memories Cloud had about Tifa’s body posture + he was deeply connected with her, this allowed Cloud to recognize Tifa immediately without needing the A-HA I REMEMBER U moment. The neurons inside his brain already have specific details about Tifa (cough.. lifestream. Damn u Cloud. ur brain is just filled with TIFA TIFA TIFA) + and also thanks to certain hormones that played a role here, Cloud could effortlessly recall her name upon meeting her figure.

The last theory would be bcause he missed and wanted to see Tifa till he saw other black haired girl as her. His brain had been repeatedly played the images of Tifa and certain hormones encouraged him to believe that girl was Tifa. I dont really understand the psychology of missing someone, but what I can conclude is, when u miss someone and u cant see them, the emotional pain u feel may harm ur physical a bit, depends on how well u deal with them. Some people will do crazy stuff to satisfy their need to avoid the ‘physical harm’, although certain acts will actually give them real physical injury. So, when Cloud running to the chocobo car without really need a confirmation that girl was Tifa might be bcause his brain tried to avoid the emotional pain that could give his physical distress. Imagine if the girl in the chocobo car wasnt Tifa, Cloud would be super duper upset. But well, Cloud missed Tifa was just a theory of mine.

Mistaken some strangers is a normal response in our daily life. It could be bcause of certain hormones inside our body were playing tricks with our neurons brain and we mistaken somebody as someone we wanted to see (am I using the correct words here? RIP english vocabs and grammars) Have u ever been in a situation where u miss someone, that person always linger inside ur head to the point that strangers kinda look like them? Or maybe u’re too scared of someone that everyone around u looked like them? Or maybe u just have lost ur little sister that tied her hair in ponytail and u often mistaken little girl with the same hairstyle as her? All of these not only related with the neurons in ur brain, but also memories and hormones took place here too. U ‘missed’ that person and u were hoping to see them very soon

Overall, I would say, Cloud’s neurons, memories, hormones and his desire to meet up with Tifa again, he could quickly tell the girl inside the chocobo car was really Tifa and ran to her without hesitation. He didnt need that “Hey, that girl looks familiar. Have I meet her somewhere.. A-HA, I KNOW THAT WOMAN! SHE’S TIFA, my childhood friend” moment. He had deep emotions with Tifa and had a strong desire to meet her soon. Thus, his brain already arranged the specific neurons that contained Tifa’s information. By the time Cloud saw her sight, in just a few seconds, he could recall the name in his brain.

Cloud need the ‘A-HA, I remember u’ moment when he met with Aerith. He didnt recognized Aerith’s face at all, not until Aerith mentioned about the flowers. Cloud remembered the flower (probably bcause he gave the flower to Tifa? Cloud had deep emotions with her) but not Aerith’s face. Again, I say, this is a normal act bcause Cloud didnt have any emotion with her to remember on that moment, but later on, Cloud (AC) cherished the yellow flower.

That’s it. Thank you for being with me till the end.

#character analysis #scene analysis #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 remake #ff7r spoilers #quotes #mygif #aerith gainsborough #final fantasy theory #final fantasy #ff edit

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jovialjudgebonkalmond · 4 years ago

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Inevitable, Ch 2

Once again, obvious disclaimer, I don’t own the characters or universe in which the story takes place - yes internet I am that old, thank you.

Summary: Monty is alive, in jail. A recounting of his experiences and memories and basically all those flashbacks we weren’t given in season 4 that I am butthurt about. It is AU in the sense that he is still alive whilst Clay & Co are attempting to frame him for Bryce’s murder. Obvious spoiler alerts if you haven’t seen season 4.

Pairings will be Monty x Winston mainly. So far this is all from Monty’s POV but that may change down the line.

Warnings include violence, sex, drug use, rape, murder, and basically everything graphic and bad you can imagine. Will absolutely contain smut. Oh, and swearing. This chapter has the added benefit of mention’s of suicide (but given the show’s content I’m sure you saw this coming?), and also domestic abuse/child abuse. Oh and homophobic slurs.

Obligatory reminder: This is from Monty’s point of view. Clearly he didn’t view his actions with the totality of how devastatingly monsterous they were. I condemn his actions, he’s a rapist and deserved jail time. As we saw in s3 and in snippets of s4 he didn’t share that point of view. I think Monty is a dynamic character that’s interesting and I relate a lot to his back story. That’s why I was motivated to write this.

Ch 2 word count: 5,554 words (sorry not sorry guys)

Monty braced his hands on the edges of the tiny stainless steel sink, squinting as he gazed into the grimy sheet of metal bolted to the wall that was supposed to function as a mirror. He could see a blur of his skin, and the orange of his shirt...and that was it. His face was throbbing and he couldn't eat his breakfast. "Fuck." He muttered to himself, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. He held his breath, his aching ribs adding to the cacophony of pain of his head and hand. His hand was swollen across his knuckles and stiff, the muscles in his right arm trembling just with the effort of hanging on to the sink. He reached up with his left hand and ran it over his jaw. It, too, was swollen. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, gripping his molars with his fingers and placing his thumbs at the base of his jaw. His body shuddered and his stomach growled loudly.

I know, we're gonna fix this.

He jerked his jaw down, over, and then up in a swift, fluid motion. It made a sickeningly loud pop and Monty held back a retch, his body going from hot to cold as he felt his adrenaline pounding through his veins uncontrolled. He took a few choking, deep breaths and began to pace in a small circle, breathing hard through his nose. He dropped to the floor gracefully into a plank position as he had a thousand times for football drills, braced himself on his hands while his broken knuckles screamed at him. He lowered himself to the floor and sucked in a deep breath, his nose almost grazing the concrete. He exhaled and pushed up, hearing his ribs crack loudly as they shifted. They felt wrong inside of him, like they didn't fit where they belonged and it made it hard to breathe. He inhaled and lowered himself again, pushing through the pain. He felt powerless. He carried on, not counting reps as he picked up a smooth and even pace. He was lost inside himself, no concept of time passing. There were no clocks, save for the one on the microwave in the common room and he wasn't there right now.

"Your mother, she hasn't stopped crying since they pick you up." His father stated with a heavy accent.He felt a pang of shame in his chest and closed his eyes for a moment, the shackles hanging like a dead weight off his wrists. He swallowed hard, his throat feeling suddenly dry and tight.

"I'm sorry." he said thickly, his back stiff. His fear felt alive inside of him, like it had a mind of its own. He avoided eye contact with his father. He could feel the rage radiating off of him and he felt the all too familiar dread sinking in.

"I bust my ass for this family, and this is what you do?" His father continued, leaning forward. Monty hazarded a glance at him from the corner of his eye, not daring to breathe. He blinked, feeling his mind beginning to reel.

"Answer me!"

Monty jumped and blinked again, feeling stupid and cornered. His heart was racing.

"What? What answer do you want?" He hated hearing the sound of his own desperation in his voice, the way it broke at the end.

"Is it true? What they're saying?"

Monty felt his body stiffen even more, if that was at all possible. He tried to shrug it off, blinking again.

"What are- what are they saying?" He stammered. It felt as though there was a fist clamped around his throat.

"You damn well know."

Monty stared straight ahead of him, feeling the all too familiar sensation of his blood pounding in his ears and through his veins. He clenched his jaw and stayed silent.

"They're saying that you assaulted a kid. That you sexually assaulted a kid. A boy! That true?" He couldn't help but notice the tone his father's voice took on at the word 'boy'.

"It wasn't sexual assault. I was just...messin' with him." Monty said, shifting his shoulders as though his shuffling could make his actions go away, like an irritating fly tickling his skin.

"You were messing with him?" His dad blinked, his eyes darkening, "The way they said? Why would you do that shit? To a boy? Are you some kind of faggot?!" The disgust in his voice was palpable, but it wasn't the fact that he was being charged with sexual assault that disgusted him so, that much was glaringly clear.

Monty's body felt hot all over, his eyes beginning to well with tears. He clenched his jaw again and stole his resolve.

"What if I was dad? What if I was?" He locked his gaze on his father's dark, furious eyes. The rage and contempt the look he was met with took his breath away.

"You're going to prison. You know what they do to guys like you in there?" He scanned him up and down quickly, as though sizing him up.

"And what do they do? Describe it." He mumbled defiantly, squaring his chin.

"You're going to get beat to shit. At the minimum. They will beat you down."

Monty leaned back, unable to stop himself. What the fuck did it matter now anyway.

"Yeah, well, at least none of them will be my dad."

He could see the storm in his father's eyes, and he was suddenly grateful he was in jail. The chair scraped on the concrete as his dad stood, towering over him with the blackest eyes he had ever seen. Mr. de la Cruz was staring at him as though he had known it all along.

"Are you a faggot?" He asked, with a tone that suggested he already had the answer.

Fuck it, he thought, and fuck you.

He looked up and locked eyes with the man whom he had feared, loathed, worshiped... his whole life.

"Sure."

The moment could have lasted an eternity. His father stared at him in disgusted silence before spitting in his face and walking out, leaving him sitting there alone in his shackles. It hurt more than a fist. He closed his eyes, feeling as though his heart was shattering in his chest. The spit was hot and sticky, burning his left eye it landed on. He clenched his jaw again, his eyebrows furrowing as he fought back his tears. He tried to wipe the spit off of his face but his shackles stopped him from being able to reach. He rubbed the side of his face on his shoulder as though he could wipe away his shame with it, his breathing ragged.

"Hey inmate."

Monty jumped, the voice knocking him back to reality. He stood carefully, his body aching at his lack of forgiveness to it, and looked at the C.O.

"Yes sir?"

"You have an appointment with your lawyer. Come on."

He blinked slowly, following the guard out of his cell. I don't have a lawyer..?

The guard marched him to a set of doors where he was pat down and shackled once more. They took him down a hallway he had never been down before, the shackles making his strides short and awkward, forcing him to hunch forward. It made him look small. The hall had rooms with windows that opened to the hallway. The guard opened one of the doors and Monty followed him inside.

There was a woman sitting at a large table with several file folders. Her black hair was up in a bun and she was wearing a pantsuit with a blouse. It was jarring, seeing someone outside of uniform or the orange jumpsuit. He shuffled toward the table and she glanced up at him, surveying him quietly with blue eyes he couldn't read. He sat down across from her and tried to shuffle his chair closer to the table with little success.

The guard stepped in and closed the door. The woman turned her attention from him to the guard.

"You can wait outside." She dismissed him. He looked as though he was going to argue with her but then thought better of it and left. Monty could see him watching them through the glass.

"Hello Mr. de la Cruz." She said, opening one of the files and glancing at it before looking back at him. "I am Eva Guerrero. I am a defense attorney and I work for a non-profit organization, and we were forwarded your case and I am here to offer you legal representation for your trial, if you choose to have one. I have spent some time reviewing your case and I have a few thoughts, and a few questions."

Monty sat there, staring at her for awhile. He blinked while he waited for his brain to catch up. It didn't.

"Okay." He said curtly, instantly on the defensive.

"You presently have two charges filed against you. That is correct? The sexual assault of Tyler Down and the murder of Bryce Walker..?"

Monty stood in the dim light of his bedroom, one of the bulbs in the ceiling was burnt out. It cast long shadows up the dark beige walls. It made the hole he punched in his white door look cavernous. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror, his breathing steady and calm...resolute. Tears trickled silently down his face, pooling on the wooden surface of his dresser. They slipped off the chips and dings in the surface and flowed off of the edge. His arm trembled as it held the cold steel of the gun, pressing into the side of his temple. His finger curled around the trigger, his other hand pressed on the top of the dresser to brace himself. There was only one bullet in the chamber, but he only needed one.

"Where are you, you son of a bitch!" His father roared, bursting into the room and yanking him from his thoughts. His blood pounded in his ears and he rounded on the taller man, not even feeling human anymore.

"You wanna go old man?!" Monty yelled, taking the gun away from his own face and leveling it at the chest of his father, finger still poised on the trigger. The man staggered back, clearly intoxicated. His face flashed shock for a moment before he began to laugh, contempt replacing his former fearful expression as though it had never existed. Monty's heart was hammering in his chest like it was going to explode. His body was moving outside of his control, his desperation having a mind of its own and an appetite for destruction.

"You going to shoot me?" The older man laughed again and muttered derisively in Spanish before closing the space between them, leaning into the gun. "Do it then. You're the man now."

Monty locked eyes with his monster, his boogeyman, and felt his resolve begin to crumble just as he always crumbled under his father's fists and rage. He lowered the gun and made to shove passed him to get through the door but his dad grabbed him roughly around his abdomen and chucked him into it. He heard it crack under his weight and his lungs strained as the wind was knocked out of him. He choked and gasped for a moment, in a heap on the ground still holding the gun.

"You're just a coward." His dad hissed, booting him hard in the ribs. He hated himself for not being able to hold back his whimper at the pain. "Were you fucking crying? Crying like a lady-boy? Like a faggot?!"

He sucked in a ragged breath and dragged himself to his feet, running haphazardly through the hallway. He needed to get the fuck out of here before this ended in regret. His dad pursued him, hot on his tail, stopping momentarily to grab a bottle of liquor off of the counter.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going you little shit?!"

"I'm getting the fuck out of here!" Monty yelled, opening the front door. His dad grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and yanked him backwards, slamming him against the wall and backhanded him. He tasted blood. He shoved his dad as hard as he could, away from him and ran out the door without looking back. His dad staggered drunkenly and fell over. It didn't stop him for long, just slowed him down momentarily, Monty heard his drunken shuffling footsteps chasing him out the door.

"Come back here you coward!" He yelled, chucking the bottle at Monty. It shattered beside his feet and he stepped on the glass. It crunched under the soles of his shoes, gritty on the gravel driveway. The alcohol splashed up his pants, staining and stinking. He fumbled for his keys, hands shaking and jerking as adrenaline sent his nerves haywire. He popped the safety back on the gun and tossed it in the back storage compartment. He started the Jeep and threw it in reverse, slamming his foot on the gas and gunning it down the driveway. His tires screeched shrilly on the pavement and the SUV lurched with his sudden movements.

He put the Jeep into drive and stomped on the gas, not knowing where he was going. There was nothing but the sound of his engine, the tires rumbling on the pavement noisily and his suspension rattling every so often as he went over a bump or pothole in the road. And his seemingly-endless-blood pounding in his ears-level rage. His vision blurred with tears, the road and lights melted blurs whipping passed him with no recognition. He sobbed, unable to catch his breath. His chest felt empty, like a gaping wound raw and shredded on the edges. Minutes turned into hours and became nothing. Eventually he had no energy left to sob, no tears left to cry.

He eased off of the gas pedal and soaked in the emptiness that consumed him. The air around him was cold and light, the stars dancing above him and the moon hung over it all like a fucking spotlight for his shit show.

He slowed and stopped, realizing he recognized the house he was in front of. His heart skipped a beat. He shouldn't be here. He put the Jeep in park and pushed the door open, stepping out of the vehicle. He left the door open as he walked ponderously along the curb. The house was like a mansion, towering on top of a small expensively landscaped hill. With a huge, wall-like cement fence with wrought iron details on top. Four pillars boarded each edge of the horse-shoe shaped driveway, one of those fancy ones that you can drive in and out of in a half circle. The pillars had lamps on top made out of matching wrought iron that bathed him in golden light, like a caricature of an angel.

He didn't belong here.

He stood at the mouth of the driveway, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He sighed, turning to go when he saw a figure approaching him. The tall, slender, dark haired young man stepped into the light. His dark, brown eyes were muddied with confusion. He wore a light coat thrown over a grey cable knit sweater and olive coloured slacks, lacking his usual carefully chosen attire. It was evident he just threw it on in a hurry to run outside. His heavy brows furrowed, his expression flipping rapidly from confusion to concern.

"Monty- what are you doing here? My parents are actually home...you probably don't want to- why are you bleeding? Are you ok?!" He stumbled his words in a rush.

Monty stood there with his arms limp at his side for a few moments, trying to feel anything other than the brokenness that consumed him. He knew the desperation showed on his face like an open book and he loathed himself for it. He could never hide it, not in front of Winston. The other boy had a way of running his fingers over his spine and cracking him open like a dam waiting to flood the world. And tonight, he was nothing if not an open wound.

"Monty?!" Winston insisted, taking another step towards him.

"Bryce is dead." He said hollowly.

Winston blinked, glancing back to the house and then back to Monty. He closed the space between them, Monty's heart leaping into his throat. Winston took his hand and ran his fingers over his knuckles and palm with an aching tenderness.

"Okay, let's get out of here then." He said calmly. Damn him. Winston gave his hand a gentle squeeze and tilted his face to lock his warm eyes with Monty's avoidant gaze. Monty looked back at him knowing he wasn't able to hide his pain behind his mask anymore. He returned the gentle squeeze before walking back to the Jeep and climbing in, his heart racing once more. Winston climbed in the passenger seat, doing a double take at the gun in the back.

"Is that a gun?! What are you doing with a gun?! How did you even get a gun?!?!"

Monty clenched his jaw, starting the Jeep with a stuttering rumble. It was an old Jeep, and its age was showing. Monty couldn't help but feel uncomfortable having the boy who was used to so much luxury in his piece of shit SUV.

Although if Winston had any opinions, he kept them to himself. Monty glanced at the gun in the corner of his eye, barely tilting his face before looking at Winston for a moment and putting the vehicle in drive.

"It was a gift." He muttered, nonchalantly. Winston looked taken aback but didn't ask anymore questions as Monty drove off. Monty turned up the music, indicating he didn't want to talk anymore. Winston reached over and held Monty's hand that was resting in his lap. Monty didn't fight it or pull away, allowing the other boy to gently stroke his fingers. He felt the pounding rage and anxiety, poised for the attack, slowly recede under Winston's unfairly soft touch.

"They found him in the water...by the docks." Monty said thickly, the dam threatening to break again. "They say he was shot...he was murdered."

"Murdered?! Holy fuck..." Winston gasped, sucking in a quick breath. It was clear he was rattled. "Who would do that?"

"Oh I think I know." Monty said, a clearly menacing tone to his voice. "Cops hauled me in for questioning. Cuffed me and chucked my ass in the back seat and everything. What a fucking show."

Winston looked taken aback.

"But Bryce was your friend?! Why would they think you killed him?!" Winston asked, despite the gun sitting in the back of the Jeep like a verifiable elephant in the room.

"We had a fight before he was killed." Monty grumbled, stepping on the gas a little. "He was killed homecoming night."

Winston took a deep breath, surveying Monty carefully.

"While you were with me?"

"If I was fuckin' there he wouldn't be fuckin' dead right now!" Monty yelled. "I should have been there. I could have stopped it. Someone beat the shit out of him and shot him and threw him in the fuckin' water and I was off getting laid!"

Winston stayed silent for a few moments, gazing at the scenery as it whipped by. If his outburst or speeding bothered him, Monty couldn't tell. He seemed surprisingly unruffled by his rage. After more time passed Monty's resolve and anger subsided, having nothing to feed off of. He took a deep, tremulous breath.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, "I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault I wasn't there for him. It's mine-"

"Monty, don't blame yourself for this either." Winston cut him off. "There was nothing you could have done. You couldn't have known that would have happened and if you had tried to stop it they very likely would have killed you too. It would have taken someone incredibly dangerous to have done this. I didn't know Bryce very well, but he wouldn't have gone down without a fight."

Monty flinched, gripping the steering wheel tightly with one hand and his other hand trembled in Winston's. He drew in a shivering breath and shook his head, his brows furrowing deeply.

"If I had died too so be it. I should have been there, protecting him. I always protected him... he died alone."

His lip quivered as his eyes welled with tears once more. He wanted to punch himself in his own god damned face. He blinked rapidly, pushing his emotions back down and swallowed hard, flipping his turn signal on.

"That's not a road?" Winston said in confusion.

"That's the point." Monty said, his words catching when the Jeep thumped in and out of a rut jerking both boys around inside.

"I've never done this before." Winston said with a small laugh, "Gone off roading."

"What?! Are you fucking kidding me?!" Monty shook his head, putting the Jeep into 4x4 and glancing at the other boy. "Rich kids." He muttered incredulously. Winston shrugged and flopped around, his shoulder bumping into Monty's as the Jeep thrashed from side to side over the uneven ground. He laughed helplessly, shaking his head. He was knocked backwards as the SUV lurched upwards and then once again bumped into Monty and then the side of the door as it landed roughly, the suspension audibly creaking.

"Jesus can this thing even handle this?!" Winston wondered.

"It was built for this." Monty chuckled, easily matching his body's movements with the jerking of the Jeep, "How about you, pretty boy, can you handle it?" He almost purred, quirking an eyebrow teasingly. Winston shot him a half exasperated dirty look and shifted his weight surreptitiously and then he smirked, meeting the other boy's challenge.

"I think we both know I like being tossed around a little."

Monty responded by gunning the SUV over a ditch in the dirt road, and Winston grabbed the handle over his head to maintain his balance and ride out the bucking of the vehicle. The two shared a look and Monty grinned devilishly. He pressed the accelerator down slowly and evenly, the Jeep's tires kicking up sand that billowed around them like an angry cloud. He adjusted the steering wheel and pulled the SUV into a tight turn, the force tossing Winston to one side as he held the tires in a rotation. He sped up as the Jeep spun in a circle, the sand flying around them like debris in an explosion. The lights of the city and the moon over the ocean melted together, becoming a ribbon of colours swirling dizzyingly around them.

Monty wasn't watching where the Jeep was going, he didn't have to. He had perfect control of the vehicle's movements, he had done this countless times with the guys. He was watching Winston, couldn't take his eyes off of him if he had even tried. He watched the way his chest moved when he breathed, the way his expressions changed and the way his eyes were just so damned alive. Monty loved the way he would laugh or yelp, and knew exactly how to get each reaction. The thrill of it made his face feel flushed, his blood pounding for an altogether different reason. He bit his lip and closed his eyes for a moment before pulling the Jeep out of the doughnut turn and slamming on the brakes. Winston let out a little shriek as he was once again tossed from side to side, and then also back and forth with his long legs tangling like a clumsy giraffe.

"If I knew it was that easy to make you scream I would have done this a long time ago." Monty laughed, cutting the engine and smirking at Winston, his heart fluttering in his chest. Winston glanced at him through the dark lengths of his eyelashes and moistened his lips. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was a little ragged after being thrashed around like a rag-doll mercilessly for the last god-only-knows how long.

"I could think of a few other ways you could make me scream." He said breathily.

Monty yanked his seat belt off and practically dove at him, his hands grabbing the other boy's wavy hair as their lips crashed together. Monty had one leg on his centre console, the other was in between Winston's legs. Winston's fingertips dug into his back as he kissed back, his bruising lips meeting Monty's furious hunger with a relishing eagerness. Monty kissed him and pawed at him like he wanted to devour him and Winston's hands flew to his pants and popped the button with ease and unzipped them, running his hand over the other boy's obvious erection. He wanted to be devoured, consumed, destroyed. Monty gasped and made a soft, strangled sound as he broke their kiss.

"Fucking hell." He hissed grinding his hips into Winston's hand, "I want you." he added, his voice catching. And I shouldn't, he thought, I can't... this is going to be the death of me.

Winston laughed lowly, continuing to run his hand up and down Monty's rock hard length. He kissed him again, biting his bottom lip lightly as he pulled away.

"Take me home." He said flatly, his hand still rubbing Monty's achingly hard cock.

Monty blinked rapidly, his train of thought thrashing around not unlike Winston was being thrashed around moments ago.

"W...what?" He stuttered, gasping quietly and suppressing a moan with limited success.

"Take me home, Montgomery," Winston said, staring into Monty's eyes as he massaged his balls, "And fuck me properly."

"I don't think I can drive like this." Monty groaned as Winston's hand slipped away, tucking his throbbing cock back into his pants and zipping them back up with some difficulty.

"You're going to." Winston smirked, kissing him deeply and then pushing him away as he adjusted his own bulge in his pants.

Monty swallowed and looked at the lawyer before him. He had declined the legal aide appointed by the court, and he had assumed it was left at that. That he'd be deemed guilty and just rot or die where he fucking belonged.

"I didn't kill Bryce." He said coldly.

"I am aware. We've been contacted by someone who has compelling evidence for your innocence."

"Charlie?" Monty asked, meeting her eyes carefully. He already knew the answer to that question he realized with sickening dread.

"No, Charlie went to the police shortly after you were apprehended and confessed to lying to them to cover for you and that he had no idea of your true whereabouts that night. A boy named Winston Williams... contacted us seeking legal aide on your behalf," The lawyer said, reaching for one of the folders. "He can place you at his house at the time of the murder. He said you made some texts and the cell phone towers would be able to confirm your location which would be quite far from the location where Bryce was killed. He also has an article of your clothing that would possibly be useful, if people can confirm you wore it that night and haven't since."

Monty swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, willing his face to remain stagnant and leaned back, shaking his head. The betrayal by Charlie stung like the weight of a sword to the hilt of his spine. And then there was the Winston of it all.

"He just doesn't fucking give up, does he?" He muttered with an agonized hitch in his voice despite his best efforts.

"I mean, if I knew someone was innocent of a crime, I would want to speak out."

"Did he tell you I beat the shit out of him the night we met and I called him a fucking faggot?" Monty lashed out, he would have crossed his arms but his shackles prevented him from doing it so he just squared his shoulders and jaw and stared coldly at the woman in front of him who only wanted to help him. But he didn't want her fucking help, or Winston's for that matter.

The woman held his gaze, completely unfazed by his demeanor.

"He did, in fact, tell me that." She said with a quirked eyebrow. Monty was taken aback but tried to do his best not to let that show.

"So why the fuck would he want to help me." He said hollowly. The lawyer shrugged.

"Does that really matter? You're looking at life in jail or worse, right now with these charges."

"Maybe I fuckin' deserve it." Monty said, tilting his head challengingly.

"Maybe you do." She agreed calmly. "But I don't think you do. I think that's an easy way out. I think you're fucking giving up, throwing it away because its easier than facing the person you are and the problems you have. Its easier than admitting your life isn't going where you wanted it to, and that you regret the things you've done."

She tossed a file in his direction.

"I think life has been unreasonably hard on you, Montgomery, and I think the people and systems that were supposed to protect you and keep you safe didn't. I think you had a violent upbringing, and that you survived for a long time by yourself. I think the fact that you'd rather go to jail for a crime you didn't commit than willingly admit out loud that you spent the night with a boy who's only crime was maybe to love you enough to want to save you is cowardly. I think you feel like you don't deserve his concern, or his love for that matter, so you're running scared from that too. I think you've been scared for your whole life. And I think its time you fucking let that go. Because the people who've helped you become the young man standing before me would love to see you sitting here wallowing in your self pity. They'd love to see you disappear like another fucking statistic. I would like to think that someone who has survived as long as you have, someone who's fought as hard as you have would take all that anger and tell them to fuck themselves and build a real life for himself, and be fucking happy to spite them, in spite of them."

Monty felt his pulse tick in his neck and looked away before fixing her with a glare. That hit a nerve.

"I think you fucking think too much." He snarked, and smirked with a cocky lift of his eyebrow. "What would you know about it anyway."

She smiled calmly, and met his arrogance with her own ego.

"I had a bad childhood." She said flatly, not knowing she was using his own words against him, "I did eight years in federal for armed carjacking."

Monty sat there numbly, dumbfounded for a moment.

"And they let you be a lawyer?" He asked incredulously, "That explains a lot..."

"It wasn't easy, Montgomery, it took me almost twelve years after my sentence to even begin rebuilding my life. They said I would never amount to more than my crime. But I fucking did it and they can suck my dick." She began to collect the folders he hadn't even looked at yet, leaving one in front of him as she stood up.

"You're a lawyer, you're not supposed to talk like that." He mumbled, feeling panic flutter in his chest as his lifeline was packing up and leaving and it was all his own fault for pushing her away.

"Not in front of a judge anyway." She countered, snapping her briefcase shut.

"Think about what I said. I won't close your case yet, but don't waste anymore of my fucking time. Keep that, and read it." She warned as she walked away. She opened the door where the guard was waiting and he heard the sound of his boots as he came to fetch him.

His mind was reeling, spinning out of control as he shuffled behind the C.O. awkwardly holding his file.

"You have some mail." The C.O. said offhandedly. Monty blinked, wondering what it was. Was it a court summons? Was it Winston? Was it his family..? They stopped at the doors and the man uncuffed him around the wrists and ankles.

He handed Monty the letter, his expression unreadable.

"It came in awhile ago...but sometimes things here get lost on purpose."

"Why are you being nice to me?" Monty asked, suspicious as he took the letter.

"You're a human being. And I'd like to believe we can help people in here... sometimes."

"You must be new." Monty sighed. He walked back to his cell without a backwards glance. None of the other three inmates he shared a cell had returned yet, they must be at lunch. Monty's stomach growled insistently but he ripped open the letter instead, wanting the privacy to absorb the blow that was about to come. The paper was a file printed from the jails website, someone was requesting the right to visit him and it required his approval or denial.

Charles St. George.

#montgomery de la cruz #monty de la cruz #monty x winston #winston x monty #winston williams #13rw fanfiction #13rw #wonty

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canaryatlaw · 4 years ago

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alright peeps. I forgot to take my meds the first time around so I was like wow why am I not tired?? at which point when I feel like that I know it’s probably because I didn’t take my meds. since we dropped the seroquel after the first ER visit (good fucking riddance) the ER docs said to just use benadryl for sleep so I’ve just been putting two of them in with my pills every night. maybe not the best idea, but I feel like benadryl is fairly safe and as long as I can sleep right now that’s not something I want to deal with right now. I’m just....I can stay in my apartment and still just be having issues with my legs being shaky all day, and it’s legitimately affecting my cognitive function BECAUSE I USED TO KNOW HOW TO SPELL CONGNITIVE WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT IT BUT WHEN I TRY IT DOESN’T COME OUT RIGHT so I’m going to leave that one right now as to where my brain is at after using spell check on the first time I typed it. but it’s just so weird because I can type and spell words just fine but as soon as I’m concentrating (couldn’t spell that after hitting the wrong key at the end and then couldn’t make it right) and I’m just !! this makes no sense and something is fucking wrong, clearly, but nobody can fucking find what’s going on and I’m really scared it’s going to get worse and start affecting my ability to do my job which the prospect of that happening being a complete nightmare for me, (congnitive. I’m trying to spell it right in my head. cognitive, okay yes that one’s right??) and that would really just make things so much worse in my life and I don’t even know what I would do if this ends up becoming something that for one reason or another I can’t really leave my apartment, and I just...I am technically lawyering from here just fine right now but that’s not going to be forever and I don’t expect the entire court system is going to have their video chat function up for one fucking person to remote in.....I know I’m getting ahead of myself but I’m just really anxious about all of it and there’s nothing I can do, which sucks. sigh. anyway, I should probably actually talk about my day now that I got all of that out. Alarm at 9, it’s woken up like 2 minutes beforehand which is the worst lol but whatever. so I got up and make sure everyone was set up with their morning cases, and then at that point I didn’t have any immediate responsibilities, just waiting for hotline calls to go through, and I was so fucking tired I ended up napping just for about 45 minutes-1 hour with waking up every like 20 minutes to check if anything came in. and it worked pretty well so I was happy with that. I ended up following up on a case we’ve been trying to file legitimately since August 11th, which could be a big problem because if there’s a big gap of time between the most recent incident and you coming to get an OP, that’s going to count against you as far as this could be considered an “emergency” and get them the emergency OP without the other party being there. but we finally finally got it into a courtroom and then my Zoom was acting up and I got super fucking frustrated and just ended up bringing it up on my phone, not that it matters all too much as I’m pretty much just there to observe and make sure things go smoothly, for a second I was concerned the client was answering the questions in a way that actually disclosed the abuse, but it was the judge I like and she just read the affidavit and then got it on the record and there were no issues after that. so that felt great to finally get done. we ended up getting another late in the day call and since I was the supervisor today I handled getting the morning volunteer attorney to cover it, we were going to try to use the interns so the new ones can observe, but there were too many hang ups here that they were just like fuck it just do the attorney instead, and that make things easier. I called the client to share all the details and at one point I was like “oh is this a cell, could I just text you the info once it was confirmed” and she said sure and we ended up texting a bit about it and now I feel like we bonded haha I’m not handling the cases tomorrow, my work buddy is, but I told her she can let me know if she has any questions or issues and work buddy I’m sure will appreciate the help. so that set things up with a bunch of other random shit I had to get done, and I finally just made myself stop at like, 7 pm, there was just so much in my mind with anxiety and I just wanted to keep going but had to give it up at some point. Since I finished Veronica Mars (major boo for that ending) I was just scrolling through hulu’s shows they have on and I saw they had “the prodigal son” which was the one where the main guy’s dad was a serial killer and he know works as a profiler and ends up using some of his dad’s help with it but it’s all very complicated, sounded pretty good. however, a major focus of the show is the nightmares the main character has regarding his childhood and such which I don’t really need to see and then the episode I was watching basically just turned into a scene from a horror movie and I was just like yeah I’m shutting this off, I don’t need any more nightmare material given my recent penchant to wake up screaming from them (happened at least 3 times since May, including one night in the hospital where the nurses had to wake me up at 3 am and said I was just screaming in my sleep) and with everything else going on right now this is really the last thing I want to deal with. so yeah, I shut it off and just left the tv off for a bit before starting to get ready for bed and then of course I waited time but now I’m here, it’s at least somewhat earlier than last night’s bedtime so I’ll take that, I got a meeting thing at 9:30 so I can probably sleep till 9:15...so we’ll see how that goes. But yeah, ending this here for the night. Goodnight dears. Sleep well.

#daily journal #August 2020 #almost over August

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beautifulterriblequeen · 6 years ago

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Mirror, Mirror, pt 2

Part 1 is here, in which I thrill everyone by explaining a cool detail about the way the mirror seems to function and conclude that Aaravos was watching Runaan through the magic mirror.

Part 2 will be about what Runaan knows, and what Aaravos knows, as a result of that scene.

The first time the mirror is scooted into Runaan’s cell, the poor guy seems to be honestly asleep.

His body’s probably pretty exhausted, what with refusing food and all those injuries to heal. (This is going somewhere, I swear. You can tell by my eyes I’m innocent.)

And here comes the mirror.

This is just backward deduction, but since Aaravos turned his side of the mirror on and watched this scene unfold, he might have been able to sense the mirror being moved. Might have been concerned or intrigued to see where he was being taken next. Probably left the mirror on and pulled up a padded red chair with three points to see what would happen next.

The mirror isn’t uncovered right away, but later, Viren returns, having left the mirror alone with Runaan.

Runaan, wary, raises his head at the mere sound of Viren’s approaching footsteps. He may not be sure what the mirror is yet, but he knows it’s bad, and he can’t rest properly with it in the room with him.

Viren whips off the blanket and demands to know what Runaan can tell him about it. It’s possible, judging by the muted reaction the mirror gets from the assassin,

that Runaan already knows what it is, just by its feet, and that’s why he couldn’t sleep and looked so pissed.

It’s possible that the scariest part for him isn’t the mirror itself, but his reversed reflection. Which he knows to look for.

He sees something is wrong with his reflection.

So he checks. He looks to one side of it,

Then the other,

then back, just to be sure. He needs to be sure.

And he is sure. His reflection is flipped. The mirror is active from the far side. Somehow, he knows what that means. He knows Aaravos is watching him at that exact moment.

(note: I realized that’s what he is doing when I remembered Doctor Who S10E1: The Pilot.)

And that scares him so badly that this veteran Moonshadow assassin breaks all tradition and actually shows his fear.

His eyebrows bend in a direction that makes him look like a cornered cat.

He cannot help but stare like trapped prey for a moment, under the spell of power that Aaravos’s mere legend exudes. He knows he’s looking right at the most powerful elf in the world, and the most dangerous. That the Star Touch is looking back at him.

But Runaan is battle-hardened, and he keeps his wits about him. He may or may not know whether Aaravos can hear him, but he’s taking no chances with his body language. He won’t show Aaravos anything of use.

When Viren asks for details, Runaan’s reflection makes its position clear.

Ain’t happening. No accursed Archmage is going to sit back and watch Runaan break down and submit to a mere human.

Runaan doesn’t even blink. Anything he says, any hesitation he makes, Aaravos might glean something from it. And more immediately, a human dark mage has captured the Mirror of Aaravos and is asking what it’s for.

Runaan feels the pressure of keeping Aaravos and Viren from connecting. What a horror show that would be! So he digs in his heels and provokes Viren. And it works.

Thing is, Runaan probably wasn’t expecting this kind of end. He was hoping, no doubt, for something more permanent, so he couldn’t be pressured to answer any more questions about the mirror.

He does look legitimately terrified as Viren begins to suck out his soul. Moonshadows have a connection to spirits--Runaan would know exactly what was happening to him, know its utter wrongness. Possibly Viren meant the coin, in Runaan’s case, to function as solitary confinement, planning to pull him out later and demand answers again, but he figured out the mirror’s trick on accident first. Alas.

And now for what Aaravos knew:

Look at the above picture. You can see the mirror’s glass. Which means Aaravos can see Viren as well as Runaan. Can see the dark magic staff.

Aaravos knew Viren had his mirror before they “officially” made contact. It’s part of his power play. Pretend that Viren discovered him, rescued him, and act grateful, and Viren assumes he himself is in charge and doesn’t look too hard at Aaravos’s scheming and his prevaricating words.

I always felt like Aaravos was taunting Viren with this one scene. Making sure Viren could actually see him while pretending he couldn’t see Viren. (Who reaches for their cloak’s reflection instead of their actual cloak? Not this Archmage.)

Pretending to be the second one to turn on the mirror, when he was first. Aaravos is always first.

We know Aaravos can make his side of the mirror go black at will.

Killing the fire was just a parlor trick for Viren’s benefit.

Just look at that sultry pout of intent. So obvious. Does Aaravos write screenplays to amuse himself? This one he scripted for Viren is a masterpiece.

Aaravos even knew exactly where to look for Viren’s magic staff. He’d seen where Viren fetched it from when he bespelled Runaan

He’s jerking Viren’s chain so hard that Viren’s teeth should be rattling out of his head. Or, more practically, his brains. Which is kinda happening, and I am here for it.

So, if this all holds together, then we have one more person who knows Runaan’s actual fate: Viren, Gren, and now Aaravos.

But would he help Runaan, if he had the chance? Ooh, the possibilities!

My headcanon: Runaan has seen the mirror personally and knows it well enough to understand the reflection issue because he used to be a Dragon Guard. That job is why he stands so straight and tall and holds his hands behind his back all the time, compared to all the other lurky, sneaky Moonshadows. He was stationed, at least some of the time, at the Dragon King’s palace. He knows better than most the dangers of that mirror. (I use this in my rescue-Runaan fic if you’re interested)

Aaaand now I’m back around to which one is “worse than death.” First I thought it was Aaravos. Then I thought it was the mirror, as a prison. Now...

(now with part 3)

#tdp meta #tdp #aaravos #viren #runaan

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nam-nam-joon · 6 years ago

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finish line

Pairing: jeno x reader ; jungwoo x reader

Genre: angst, fluff, conflict

Wordcount: 9.2k

Warnings: swearing, past relationships, hurt

Summary: after winning last year's most important swim competition, ending a succesful year of training and race after race, the friendship between lee jeno and you comes to an abrupt halt when he breaks off all contact over the summer. come next school year he turns up a new fratboy - dropping his passion of swimming in favour of new interests

and yet he seems not entirely able to drop you, too.

@kacchand & @gorls-gorls

“Y’should come hang out with us, there’s another party at Epsilon Zeta tonight. Will be fun.”

You spared him a glance, momentarily diverting your attention from the paper in front of you and twirling the pen between your fingers, similar to how he was spinning the football in his hands.

“Yeah, fun for you and everyone else that only has two brain cells. Thanks, but no thanks. I need my eight hours of sleep to function.”

A frown wound its way on Jeno’s face. You stopped twirling your pen and went back to reread the last paragraph in your book, picking up a highlighter to continue what you had started before your local fratboy had so ungracefully interrupted.

“We never hang out anymore. What happened? Used to be such fun to be around you.”

His voice was tinged with sadness. You paused in your working, again. This time you didn’t look up at him, but past your book from underneath your lashes.

“I don’t know. It’s probably thanks to your new bros at your fraternity, or the fact you picked up football, or that you showed up to swim practice a whole lot of two times in this year. You tell me, Jeno. You tell me.”

He leaned forward, balancing the item of leather on his legs. His lips, parted to say something, snapped shut as you spoke up again, eyes still fixed on your book, capped end of your pen tapping your paper.

“Speaking of which, how’s that going? Football? Heard you’re having a great time there.” And at the afterparties.

He was uncomfortable now, his shoulders on different heights as he attempted to find a more relaxed position.

“The team’s great, and they- we’re really gettin’ a feel for each other. It’s fun to game with them. We’re a team.”

“What about your first team? The swim team? We don’t matter anymore?”

The way his lips pursed and his head rolled back told you enough - not that you had needed to hear or see it to know.

“Come on, you know that with you is different than... whatever that was with the swim team. I don’t even know why I joined, I don’t-”

The annoyance within you switched to sadness.

“You joined the swim team because you’re a great swimmer, Jeno. We both joined because we have fun swimming. And I wouldn’t even care if your interests changed, that’s perfectly normal, that happens, but to just leave us hanging like that? Leave me hanging like that? We have the first competition coming up next month, and our best swimmer won’t be there.” Bitterness now swung in your words as you shut your books, deciding this was as much work as you could get done today.

“Where are you going?” Jeno piped up, eyes wide and the smirk that had become so typical for him completely wiped off his face. You would’ve lied if you’d said it didn’t drive a thorn deeper into your heart that he just didn’t acknowledge what you’d just said.

“I’m done with this. The next time you wanna quit something, have the heart to let people know to not wait for you, but don’t come creeping after me to whine about ‘oh how fun it always used to be’ to hang out and wonder why that isn’t anymore, when you know damn well why. Face it, J, the only reason we kept seeing each other was three times a week for swim practice, and you decided to ditch that, so excuse me for not chasing after your alcohol-loving, girls fucking, football driven ass.”

With that you left, biting on your lower lip and sucking in a deep breath to keep the tears pooling in your eyes at bay.

He didn’t need to see just how much it hurt.

The library didn’t tolerate shouting and to your relief he didn’t come after you. No, the times in which he could read you like a book where long past now.

You tsked softly to yourself, pushing the doors of the building open and stepping out into the unused air.

Who did he think he was, just plopping down in the seat across from you after weeks of not speaking, seeing him?

It was ridiculous, how easily you accepted him back into your space, after all of that.

“Jeno’s not coming anymore.” You informed Jungwoo, later before practice.

The team Captain frowned.

“Jeno’s dropped out?” Jaehyun asked from where he was stretching, and after he had repeated it, the faces of Chenle and Jisung turned as well. All of them had disappointment written over their expressions.

“He was the best of us. Without him we won’t stand a chance in two weeks.” Jaemin said lowly.

“Guys, guys. Pull yourselves together, alright? We all kinda knew Jeno didn’t put his heart into this anymore. We still got this.” At the glum expressions on the faces surrounding you Jungwoo’s shoulders first dropped before he shook the negative vibes off. “ We’ll still be able to pull this off. Chenle, your time on the sprint is better than ever. Jaehyun, your endurance is incredible. Yuta, you’re perfecting your breaststroke, Jennie your turns are phenomenal. Just because we lost one of us doesn’t mean we’re gonna fail, as a team! We’re still strong together, with or without Jeno. Sure, maybe we’ll lag behind in the relay a bit, but _______ can fill in for him just fine, we got this! Don’t let this influence you negatively, you are still. Strong.” Jungwoo lowered his clipboard and looked around. “I don’t care if we don’t have such a great start into the season as last year, last year was spectacular and not comparable to anything we ever had. So let’s make this year fun. Let’s have fun with what we do best, which is punching water and kicking other team’s ass.” He looked around, from one face to the other. “We got this, do you hear me?! Let me hear it!”

“Yeah! We got this!” A chorus of half and half boys and girls replied, fists in the air, no matter if they were on land or in the water already.

“We’re so fucked.”

Jungwoo dropped his duffel next to the rack you used to dry clothing, and motioned for you to hand him your own swim bag. You gave it a kick that made it slide over and softly bump into his ankle, and with a sigh he went to work.

“I thought we got this?” You helped him set up the rack correctly, clicking the safety into place that he had forgotten the first time. Tender brown eyes met yours over the strings that held up your swim suits, and he lowered the first big towel.

“You know that was just to keep them motivated. Without Jeno, we can basically go home. He was the reason we took off like that last year, I thought… I thought this year would be just as good. What happened over the summer? Did something change? Did you do something?”

You threw one of the smaller hair towels at him and he grinned, signalling he didn’t really mean the last sentence.

“Fuck do I know, man. He decided to come and get on my nerves this noon actually, when I was studying. Is a real football slash fratboy now, carrying a ball and all. Disgusting.”

Jungwoo sighed and came around the rack after hanging up his own swim shorts, hooking his right arm over your right shoulder, his knuckles brushing your collarbone. Both of you took a quiet moment to just stare out of the small window, into the shady alley between the student dorms.

“Did you try talking to him?” You asked, arms crossed over your chest but leaning into Jungwoo’s side. “I don’t know if it’ll be any good at this point, but just… to make things formal, in a way? He never said he switched, I’m not saying you should trick him back into the team with something like bureaucracy, but… Y’know?”

The warm arm slipped off your shoulder and its owner traipsed into the small kitchen, rummaging through the freezer.

“I went to see him, after he had missed practice a whole week and wasn’t answering my texts. One of his fratbros, the one that looks like he’s constantly ready to rip his shirt of and shred you, didn’t even let me past their door. Said Jeno was busy or some. I don’t know.” Jungwoo closed the door with his elbow and plopped the box with pizza on the stove, turning on the toaster oven before retrieving the baking plate from within. “I have to admit, I was really lazy about that, though. Should’ve caught him after class or so, not just… give up after one try.”

He sighed.

“Yeah, well.” You sighed, too, and picked out two glasses from the cupboard. “Cheers to my flatmates being at Epsilon Zeta’s party and us having the space all to ourselves.”

The somewhat tired expression on Jungwoo’s face changed into that of dark glee.

“Oh, we will.”

“I told Jeno I’d need my sleep when he invited me over to that dumb party, I doubt he’d accept this as sleep.” Your voice was a bit thick from where you were mushed against Jungwoo’s side, halfway through ‘The Two Towers’.

“Well, fuck Jeno and his pretty uwu-smile. At least you’re still here.” Jungwoo took another swig from the coke bottle, not bothering with the glasses you’d used before and now safely stored on the couch table, on each side of the opened bag of chips and other sweets. Your friend groaned comfortably after he’d stretched one leg and placed the socked foot on the edge of the already heavily laden table.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I won’t suddenly stop coming. I love swimming too much for that.”

“Oh yeah?” He glanced down on you, lips flushed from drinking and the hot pizza sauce. His soft, light brown hair let a single strand fall into his eyes where the rest was brushed back. “What about me? Do I not matter to you at all?”

You chuckled.

“Yes, my cherished team Captain, you are the other, sole reason I ever attend practice.”

He let out a satisfied grumble. “Good. ‘Cause if you were to quit as well, we’d be fucked. Like for real. I’d resign instantly.”

One and a half weeks later, after one of the two last practices before the first competition, someone entered the pool area as you were currently very busy staying out of the water, with almost all of the younger ones beckoning you closer to the edge, just once _______, please; but you knew what their prying hands were after and you wouldn’t allow them the satisfaction of getting what they wanted. Your clothes were nice and dry; you had taken the opportunity to observe everyone swimming this time instead of training, yourself; there was no need to change that now.

Your plan had one fatal flaw, however, which came in the shape of your Captain - and his very own hands, pushing you into the water.

A shout of surprise left your lips as you tumbled down, but not before your fingers locked in an iron grip around the collar of Jungwoo’s polo shirt, dragging him in with you.

Splashing and cheers filled the hall as Jungwoo resurfaced, shaking water out of his hair and rubbing at his eyes, a big grin on his face.

“I’m gonna make you swim extra laps for that, _______!” He threatened, floating closer to where you were currently pulling yourself out of the water by the ladder’s handlebars. “Get back in here!”

His hands closed around your hips, almost ready to pull back, when Chenle’s voice suddenly rang out, disbelief swinging in it.

“Jeno?”

The whole pool fell silent.

Jungwoo’s hands tightened around your middle before he let go and dropped back into the water as Jeno came towards your corner, pants rolled up over his ankles and feet bare. One hand was stuffed into his pocket, the other rubbed his neck.

“Hey, everyone.”

You took the last step out of the water and rose to your full height, stepping up to him and making room for the drenched Jungwoo to escape the water as well.

“What do you want here?” Arms crossed over your chest by themselves. A warm hand fell on your shoulder.

“Hi. Is there anything we can help you with, Jeno?”

Jeno’s eyes wandered from your position, locked and unrelenting, over Jungwoo’s hand on your shoulder to the more open, but still reserved, posture of his old Captain.

“Yeah, I, uh… I just… wanted to say, good luck, for the event. It’s this weekend, right?”

“That’s right, yeah. Thank you, it’s appreciated. Anything else?”

“Uh…” Jeno’s eyes swerved over the pool, over the faces of your team mates, who had gathered on the edge of the water and hung on the lane partitions, sprinkled around the corner you stood at. “Uh, nah. Nothing else.”

Without any more words the black haired guy turned around and walked out, leaving you to look at each other in mild confusion and disbelief.

As the door in the direction of the lockers swung shut, you elbowed Jungwoo.

He rubbed the spot between his ribs and send you an accusing look.

“You wanted to talk to him? Go talk to him, now.”

You threw him a towel and he caught it, falling into a jog and not long after vanished, hot on Jeno’s trail.

With a sigh you grabbed your bag and water bottle where you had dropped them during the assault.

“Alright everyone, fun time’s over. Get out of there and showering. Don’t forget to put your hats on and dry your hair before going outside, Jungwoo will roast you alive if any of you gets sick before Saturday.”

“I’m more afraid of what _______’ll do to us if we get sick. Jungwoo would just give us tea and send us home or something…”

“Jisung, I heard that!”

The boy in question ducked his head, giving a sheepish grin over his back before speed walking into the showers, Chenle in tow.

Saturday came, faster than anticipated. Class had kept you busy during the mornings and the last training had happened without much faze, despite the unclear reasons as to why Jeno had really visited the pool before.

The younger ones pushed you to explain, counting on your close relationship with the Captain, but you could only shrug.

“He’ll have his reasons, both of them, for sure. Some kinda unspoken guy-thing, maybe.”

And now here you were, shaking your head at Jungwoo, sitting wrapped in a thick scarf with a running nose and a box of Kleenex on his lap, across the aisle on the bus with you and the rest of the team.

“How long were you out in the cold like that, anyways?” You asked, pausing your observing of the landscape passing by outside.

Jungwoo stubbornly shrugged, keeping his silence about the encounter. Almost everyone else was asleep in the rows behind you, the early morning not helping.

“Did he hand in his formal resignation? Finally made it official?”

Jungwoo sneezed into another tissue and shook his head.

“...so? What did he say? Did he say anything? Why are you so cryptic about everything?”

You whipped your head around and lifted an accusing finger. “-Don’t you dare say ‘You will see’, I’m- No.”

Your Captain shut his mouth again. You stared at him a while longer, lips pressed into a single line.

“Fine. Whatever. Keep your si- Bless you. Keep your silence, if it makes you happier. I can’t be bothered with this right now.”

And you demonstratively fully turned in your seat, showing him the cold shoulder.

It didn’t take five minutes until someone poked your arm. Already annoyed you twisted your head, ready to rip Jungwoo a new one, when the face of Jaehyun abruptly shut any plans of whisper-yelling down.

“Hey.” He said lowly, and you scrambled to scoot over into the seat closer to the window, shoving your jacket off the other seat and under the empty row in the front.

“Hey- Jaehyun? Whatcha doing here?”

The other slid into the cleared spot and buried his exposed hand back into its sweaterpaw. You couldn’t make anything of the almost condescending look on his face.

“I, ah, kinda heard you and Woo just now. J is still haunting your mind as well, huh?”

You often forgot that Jaehyun was one of the oldest members of the team, alongside Jungwoo and yourself. When he joked and goofed around with the younger ones it was easy to look over his toned form that spoke of a little more training, a little more experience, and so whenever he approached you, the Vice Captain, not as just a swimmer but as an actual person who was in the year above yours, it always came as a surprise.

Now you gave him a side-eyed look, trying to judge if it’d impact the team if you’d tell him.

A quick glance over to Jungwoo showed your Captain out cold, Kleenex in hand.

You sighed.

“Honestly? I hate how I’m still thinking about him. I know it’s not been that long, but really, if he decided to fuck off like this, he doesn’t deserve me pondering about it, and especially not Woo, and while we’re at it who does he think he is, just waltzing in on practice like that, disrupting everyone? The newbies just got used to him /not/ being there, and then he just- Ugh. And it’s not like I’m safe outside either, he can just decide to come sit down next to me while I’m trying to study and I can do fuck all about that. Fuck. Fuck him. I hate him.”

You resolutely crossed your arms over your chest and sat back, a mix of a frown and a pout on your face.

Jaehyun dropped his gaze to his knees and fiddled with a lose thread on the hem of his sweater.

“Sounds like you guys were pretty close. I know you joined the team together last year but...”

He trailed off, lifting his eyes after a moment.

“Yeah. You could say that.” The bitterness of your words left an aftertaste on your tongue.

“Did you guys were in a relationship and broke up?”

You sighed and stared at the headrest of the seat in front of you. “Nah.”

“Neither?”

“Yup.” You plopped the ‘p’.

Jaehyun turned his head to face forward again. Then, after a few heartbeats of silence...

“But you love him, don’t you?”

You closed your eyes. “I’m an aromantic asexual, Jae.”

“And? Doesn’t mean you can’t have loved him.”

The glare from your gaze as you rolled your head in his direction made him lift his hands.

Outside the windows the morning dawned in streaks of a smudged grey blue and faded pink.

You didn’t respond until the blue had left the clouds and the sky was a slightly brighter shade of grey.

“Yeah.”

It was small and so quiet that you almost hadn’t heard yourself; not to speak of Jaehyun, who you weren’t even sure had stayed.

“Hm?”

A yawn stretched your face, but when you closed your mouth again all anger had left your body. You were just tired and miserable.

“Yes, Jaeyhun, I love Jeno. But admitting that doesn’t help anyone now.”

Jaehyun continued to look at you for a while longer and under his heavy gaze you shrunk back in your seat.

“Stop looking at me like that.” It came out more vulnerable than intended and you bit on your lower lip.

“It sucks.” He said, and there was nothing but honesty in his voice. “Losing someone like that. Does he know? That you love him, I mean?”

“Pff.” You settled into a new position and blinked away your tears. “Don’t think he’d care much even if he did. This is not some dumb rom-com where A tells B they’ve been in love all this time and then B suddenly turns their life around bcuz LuOvE.” You mimicked the Spongebob meme and Jaehyun chuckled.

Your eyes stayed on him a while longer until the smallest smile made your lips twitch upwards.

“Yeah, guess you got a point there. Alright. Sorry that I’ve been a bit of a bother, but was nice talking with you.” He lifted from his seat and promptly had to reach out a hand to the roof of the bus that curved over your seat as the driver swerved into a different lane.

Your lips curled some more as Jae pursed his.

“Hey, Jae. Why didn’t you opt for the spot of Captain?”

He turned his head to look back at you, a fond smile on his face.

“I’m a person that can better follow than lead, trust me. But between you and Woo...” His eyes travelled to the Captain, with his head rolled back and mouth open. “-You got it handled pretty well, let me tell you.”

You huffed good-naturedly and the other returned to his seat further back, just as you passed a sign that listed the distance to today’s destination.

It would be another good hour and so you put your chin in your hand, staring out the window, as sleep was nowhere close in the range of possibilities.

The hall was as noisy and packed as ever during competition season.

You wondered if the scent of chlorine and the warm, moist air would ever lose their effect of making adrenaline jolt you wide awake, fill you with anticipation at feeling the water surround you again.

There were already people warming up in the pool, the continuous splashing of swimmers jumping in at one end and turning at the other being the backdrop of endless chatter, cheers, shouts...

You plucked the clipboard out of Jungwoo’s hand as he struggled to balance the box of tissues, the small bag with already used ones, his own sportsbag and the aforementioned board after following you into the main hall.

“Can you check whe- Achoo! Where our seats are?”

“Bless you. Already on it... Row M on the Bleachers. Fuck they have a whole viewing tribune here... Looks like we gotta climb some stairs. You good Cap?”

Jungwoo was quick to nod, lips parted to breathe easier.

“Here, you go ahead. I’ll make sure no one got lost on their way in.” You motioned for him to go forward and turned back, gaze already scanning the mix of capped and bare heads above the mass of school-colour-coordinated outfits.

You missed the way Jungwoo’s eyes scanned the rows of visitors above the other participants.

Warm up was done and by now you were sitting in your shorts and slightly too big team-shirt squished between Jaehyun and Mina, your usual controlled self to the outer world while your heart fluttered like a small bird in the cage of your chest.

The first races would start soon and the emotions vibrating in the hall were already high strum – not even Jaehyun’s reassuring, tight hold around your side could change that. He was too attentive to have missed the nervous silence that had fallen over you, while the newbies whispered about their envy for the unbothered-ness of their Vice Captain.

Jungwoo was nowhere in sight.

“I swear to god if Woo misses the solo races-“

“Language.”

“Fuck off Jae. Where is that walking germ machine?”

“I think I saw him taking the stairs to the rows above us, for the visitors. Do you know if he expected someone to come with us?” Jennie leaned over Mina’s lap, eyes round.

Out of reflex you turned and looked over the seats, not able to spot Jungwoo’s face mask in the mass that still hadn’t settled down.

An unidentifiable feeling crept into your gut.

“Probably seeing if he can sneak better seats for the relays or some shit. Whatever.”

But your knuckles turned white around the clipboard in your lap.

Silence lasted on the hall, droning over the smooth surface of the undisturbed water, rolling between the starting blocks, circling around your form before piling as anticipation inside you.

Goggles in hand you slipped out of your flip flops, placing them aside before pulling the elastic over your head and sticking the lenses over your eyes.

Three short whistles sounded and the excitement pooled in your stomach, nervous energy simmering and beginning to boil in your legs as you climbed the first step.

The lane was short, 25m, so you’d have a turn on your 50m Butterfly.

One long whistle and you stepped up to the top, dropping into a crouch.

Breathe in. And out.

Time seemed to stretch into eternity. Faintly you could hear the lights buzzing overhead, through the rubber cap closing your ears. You wanted to jump in, now, now, now, now-

The grizzled voice of one of the referee’s speaking into a megaphone made goosebumps rise all over your body.

“Ready-“

The next sound was so ingraved into your mind your hands twitched in anticipation of hearing it.

The beep sounded through the hall and before you could think about it the water surrounded you.

Below the surface it was calm and quiet, even with your arms and legs moving, propelling you forward. Every time you came up for air it was like hell had broken lose right here and now, so loud were the yells and deafening screams filling the previously empty air.

Then you dove back down, eyes focusing on the tiles of the pool below, and it didn’t matter anymore.

You pushed through the turn, only coming up for air after having skipped it right before going into it.

Lane six on your left lagged about a quarter lane behind you while lane four on your right was close in front.

By the time you slapped both hands against the space below the starting block you’d jumped off not even two minutes before, your arms were screaming and you silently cursed yourself for not warming up better as the beginning of a cramp threatened to take over your left calve.

Several other hearty ‘slap’s could be heard not long after you had arrived.

Only after the referee nodded its head did you pull yourself up and out of the water, shaking with adrenaline and only beginning to come down from panting and a racing heartbeat.

Jungwoo was waiting with Jaehyun behind lane four, where your teammate would start for Freestyle in one of the next rounds. Your Captain smiled through his facemask, excitedly giving you a thumb up before you slipped back into your shoes and gratefully took the towel Jaehyun threw at you.

“You totally came in first!” Jungwoo exclaimed as you stepped up to them. One of your eyebrows rose, sceptical.

“Yeah right. I fucked up the last sprint, there’s no way I could make it before lane three.”

“We’ll see. Results should come in before one PM.”

You towelled off roughly before wrapping yourself in it. “How late’s it now?”

“Half past twelve.”

You nodded before the slightly sour expression vanished from your face and you clapped a hand to Jaehyun’s still dry shoulder.

“Kick it, Jae. You can do this.”

He gave you a grin and lifted his palm. With a smirk you met it in a High Five that left both your hands burning. Jaehyun laughed.

As it turned out you had indeed won your round of Butterfly and advanced to the next round, as did Jaehyun. Several of the newbies clocked in second or third, and Jungwoo was in high spirits as he plopped down next to you around half past two.

Part of your sandwich slipped down the wrong pipe and you coughed, tears rising into your eyes.

For the time being the pool was reserved for the second warm-ups, which lowered the sense of fierce competition in the air.

“We’re off not too bad.” His voice was somewhat dulled through the mask, but the way his eyes bend into crescents told you he was pleased. After taking another bite you peeked over his arms on the spreadsheet that he had noted everyone’s name, discipline, round, lane, and time.

You scoffed at the little heart he’d drawn next to your winning time.

“This is going better than I expected, to be honest. Mina is up next, they’re starting breaststroke in her year now. “

“When are relays again?”

“Uhh... To- Morrow? No, here, at seven. Mixed relays are at seven, the others are tomorrow, after the endurance and seconds rounds from today. No wait, we have our relay tomorrow, too; today is just for younger aged mixed teams. Wow what a mess... Freaky scheduling.”

“I am shivering in fear of whoever planned this out. When are we supposed to head out? I feel like we’re lagging behind.” You swallowed the last bite of your sandwich half and longingly stared at the second one. You knew you couldn’t eat it now, it’d weight too heavy during your Freestyle race coming up. Instead of the delicious bread and veggies, you settled for a cereal bar as a dessert.

“Have you seen Mina?” Jaehyun yelled from the stairs over the heads of several bickering swimmers from a neighbouring team. Jungwoo shook his head.

“Isn’t she warming up right now?”

“Did you check the locker rooms?” Jaeyhun lifted his hands at your question and shook his head at Jungwoo’s.

You were half out of your seat when Jungwoo gently pushed you back down, rising in your stead.

“You stay and digest properly, I don’t want you throwing up. Jaehyun, I’ll be there in a second, give me a moment – Any of you seen her?” He asked, directed at Chenle and Jennie, wrapped in an intense game of Uno with two of their friends from a different team. Both shook their heads, but Jennie shoved her cards into Chenle’s chest and followed her Captain away.

Fifteen minutes later and they hadn’t shown up yet, time for warm ups running out and the next round of races coming up fast.

On your ride back home you sat with an arm slung around Mina, wrapped in Jaeyhun’s soft pullover, far too big on her.

Her tears had subsided by now, but her head was still resting on your shoulder, her body curled into yours.

Jennie had found her sobbing in a toilet stall in the girl’s locker room, overwhelmed by the experience and shaken to the core at the fear of coming in last in her round, or even approaching the starting block.

After much coaxing and reassuring words from you and Jennie she’d finally come out and, in the end, had gotten her chance to swim after all, as Jisung had intentionally messed up his start, delaying the whole round by several minutes as one of the resident hot heads hadn’t heard the multiple honks of the siren, signalling the cancellation of the first start.

Too exhausted from the day, you fell into bed that night, not bothering to check your phone or do anything else besides hang up your gear to dry in time for tomorrow and wolf down an unholy amount of pasta.

The second day of the tournament started as early as the last one. The bus was silent, only Jungwoo’s sniffling ringing through it.

Mina sat next to you again, but this time in support of you, how she had phrased it – you did have your seconds round today as well as the relay.

She was currently napping, her head laying on your shoulder, while you scrolled through your Captain’s phone, reading an updated schedule he’d downloaded before boarding.

They switched some of the second rounds around, but most of it was training races anyway.

Mina mumbled a few nonsense words and snuggled closer. You took a moment to lower the mobile device and lay your cheek on the crown of her head.

Forcing the memory of a similar scene, only with you in Mina’s place and Jeno in yours, out of your head, you went back to the chart on the display.

The first tournament completely without Jeno. You thought to yourself. It didn’t feel like that, not really.

He could’ve just went to the toilet and stayed there, and you caught yourself, later, sat on the bleachers again. Caught yourself looking up after cracking a particular lame joke, only to quickly dip your eyes back down, realizing Jeno’s smile wouldn’t be there to affirm that the joke was, indeed, as terrible as Jaehyun proclaimed.

You couldn’t find it in you to care much for what went down in the pool below the handrails of the bleachers, pretended to nonetheless to not discourage the newbies.

Jungwoo found you half an hour later just outside the doors, basking in a spot of thinning sunlight, with a cup of overpriced gummies.

“You good?”

“Yeah, Just want to get this over with and go to sleep...” Sudden realization dawned on you. “Fuck tomorrow is a school day.”

A hand came up to rub over your face and stayed over your eyes. “I’m too tired, Woo. I’ll have to pass the relay. Swimming my seconds was too much.”

You were only half joking at this point, but Jungwoo just closed his arms around you and rested his head on your shoulder.

“It’s too much.” You whispered into his shoulder, and he only held you closer.

“I’m going first, everyone else knows the order, right? Right. Okay. Remember, we don’t need to win, but if we do... That’d be nice. Okay, we’re up next. Don’t die and have fun.”

“Inspirational.” You heard Yuta muttering after you had already turned around and put on your goggles, and Sicheng hummed in agreement.

Your irritated eyes searched for your Captain among the rows of the bleachers, but once more, he was nowhere to be found. Oh well.

Before the masses calmed down you felt three hands on your shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze.

You didn’t need to turn back to know all of your teammates were silently showing you their support through a simple gesture.

“We’re with you till the end of the line.” Yuta mumbled, barely loud enough to hear over the general ruckus.

Strength flooded your arms, spread through your middle and stretched down into your legs.

The simple comment, the quiet acknowledgement of the pain that came with having to go first, to lead them all, with this whole situation, because just last year it had been Jeno standing in almost the exact same spot you were in now, facing the water with nothing but determination and a will too strong to turn back now.

The trust they placed in you made you lift your chin. It fuelled the rage burning inside your chest, about how unfair all of this was, how you had never aimed for leadership, how it had been thrust upon you and how you were still too proud to let anyone else handle it.

The first whistle sounded and you took a step forward, the warm fingers letting go of your shoulders, but the feeling of unrelenting trust, appreciation and team spirit stayed. It radiated from your shoulders and spread behind you like blazing wings burning brighter than the stars.

The first 50m were a blur. Your flat hand hit the end of the lane with a loud clap and a shadow jumped over you, dove into the water and was gone.

The water clung to you as you pulled yourself up and out, but it had to let you go as you gave a reassuring touch to both Jenny and Sicheng, anxiously waiting their turn.

The situation in the pool didn’t look too bad. Jennie filed you in on your great start and the distance you built up that the other teams currently struggled to match, with how Yuta was zooming through the blue water, closing in on the turn zone again.

Sicheng jumped in next and lost a bit of distance after he messed up the turn, but then he came back, giving the lane to Jennie who seemed possessed by a fierce energy to make it at least third.

She was good, you noticed every time you watched her swim. When she overtook lane two in her turn your heart began to beat faster again – she was in third now, only a meter separating her from lane three. If she could make the distance up...

It was easy to give into the spirit, to yell along your other swimmers, focusing your whole attention on the girl in the water below, trying to push her forward with the shouts.

When she surfaced, only a few arm lengths from the end your heart jumped into your throat. Lane six had already wrapped their relay, way before anyone else, but Jennie...

Jennie pulled through, skipped coming up for air with her last four strokes in favour of utilizing all her remaining strength.

When she hit the end of the lane your eyes flew to lane three. You caught the moment their swimmer came in – moments after Jennie.

She had won - you had won.

You reached out with the arm that wasn’t slung around Sicheng’s middle when she got out of the water, out of breath and not knowing what had happened yet.

Sicheng yelled “We won! Well we kinda lost but we still won!”

You pulled her into the group hug you shared with Yuta, and all of you stuck your heads together and grinned, happiness and the elation of knowing you won making your hearts soar.

In the end it turned out that lane six had set some uber-intense results, beating a competition record and leaving virtually everyone in their metaphorical dust, but that didn’t matter.

You, for yourself, among the less victory-driven teams, had won.

Around you the competition continued but you didn’t care about it anymore. With your head in Yuta’s lap, legs over Jennie’s, a big smile plastered over your face and Sicheng half-heartedly commenting the events that took place below you all, it was enough.

It was enough, you thought to yourself, closing your eyes against the ceiling and, for the first time this school year, feeling utterly able to relax. Let go of the stress and anxiety that snuck around your days.

In this moment you were weightless.

“Hey guys!” Jungwoo’s voice reached you, and Sicheng broke off his commentary completely. You didn’t move, too comfortable in your spot.

“I’m so happy you won the relay! Lane six were idiots for starting in the same time slot, of course no one could match them- But you! You guys did it! You won! I’m so proud of you! –And you, especially!”

A finger poked your stomach, into the soft tissue there, and you let out a noise of protest that morphed into a whine as you wrapped your arms around your middle and turned your head. Then you cracked an eye open, already complaining about how this treatment was not what you deserved and how you had expected better from him, how you felt utmost betrayed, when a person behind your Captain leaned around the brunet and said “Looks like you really still got it.”

The words you’d wanted to say dropped back down your throat. An uncomfortable silence spread within you, half still caught in the euphoric feeling that the win had brought with it, half sluggish from the serene mood that had settled over your small corner of the bleachers.

Jeno beamed around Jungwoo, who looked over the present faces, smiling despite his still reddened nose.

With a sigh you pulled your legs off Jennie and sat up, waiting a heartbeat for your heart to get accustomed to the change of position before standing up and without much care pushed past the two males.

This was not something you could use now, still tasting victory alongside the chlorine water on your lips.

But of course he was here for a reason, and that seemed to involve you, and so he caught you at the end of the stairs.

“Hey, _______, wait. Can- Can I talk to you?”

“No.” You answered flatly, figuring the quickest way to momentarily get rid of him would be the toilets.

“Jungwoo said you’d be- Can you slow down please? I just wanted to congratulate you on your relay today; that was really great. _______, please? Are you even listening to me?”

He had grabbed your wrist and tugged at it. You forcefully ripped it out of his grasp, turned in your spot and glared him down.

“What do you really want here? I know you don’t care about swimming anymore, otherwise it’d have been you out there, swimming in the relay, fighting alongside us. Is this some kind of self-redemption thing? You thinking if you just blabber us full of meaningless talk it’ll ease on the loss you caused the team? What?”

He kept quiet for a heartbeat, eyes staring into yours, lips moving without sound.

“Although I gotta give it to you, I didn’t expect you to come all the way out here to pull some bullshit like this, or-“ A twitch of his cheek and your heart fell. “Ah. Right. It wasn’t your idea. Did Jungwoo ask you to come here? To, I don’t know, fuck shit up even more? Just stay away Jeno. You don’t get to ruin this.”

“Actually... It was my idea to ask if he wanted to come.” Came a quiet voice from behind you.

Upon turning you couldn’t believe your eyes. Jaehyun stood in front of the doors leading to the showers, towelling himself off even though his hair kept dripping down his chest.

“You.” You stated, feeling part of the annoyance, the blatant hurt within you, turn and direct itself at the dark brunet. You pressed your lips together, mulling over the emotions welling within you and how betrayal was swirling into it.

“And what did you think this would bring?”

“A chance for both of you to speak yourself out.” Jaeyhun simply stated, dropping the towel around his shoulders, crossing his arms and using his posture as a way to add an intimidating ring to his words. “I know you still have an earful for this idiot, and as it happens, I’m friends with his Coach, and it looks like Jeno has a some pent up feelings about all of this, too. So, you’re welcome. Now get along, children.”

He shooed you in the direction of the hallways, leading into various directions.

“Will you... Will you listen to me, now?” Came the voice from Jeno, shortly behind you.

You stopped halfway between the showers and the common areas, arms crossing over your chest and leaning back against the wall. Any people previously milling in the space cleared out as the line-up for the next relay got announced.

“So? What do you want to say.”

“Can we do this one for one? I say something, you say something?”

He had the decency to look somewhat bashful. You narrowed your eyes at him and kept quiet, save for the slightest incline of your head.

“Okay,” He sighed, his back hitting the wall opposites you. “I’ll go first, I guess.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry. For completely ignoring you over the summer.” He swallowed, staring at the floor. As you didn’t speak up, his eyes slipped up, landing on your face. “Your... your turn.”

You were tempted to not say anything. Just keep quiet, let him stew in his own juices, never opening your mouth again.

“I’m really fucking disappointed in you. For just dropping what we had, what we had with the team during last school year. Just like that. With no explanation.”

He ducked his head.

“I- I, I started to have... There were some things I needed to sort out, and then Jungwoo and you started to really hit it off during the few times we met for swimming after winning the year’s finals, and I... I felt... I was jealous. Because you liked him so much more than me. No, I’m-“ He held up a hand as you wanted to intercept. “I’m not done yet. I realized how dumb it was, over the summer, when I didn’t text you, or saw you, or anything. I- God I missed you like crazy. But every time I picked up the phone to send a funny video to you, or a pic, or... anything, really, I just. I couldn’t get over myself and how shitty I treated you and Jungwoo during the last weeks. And then... summer vacation was over and we were back here, and over the summer I kinda hung out with Johnny, and Doyoung, and... they were really nice, and when a spot at their frat house opened, I jumped at it. The booze and... this sense of, of different.. friendship... helped forget about you, and the team.”

You stared at him, eyebrows drawn, silent.

“It’d have been nice to get an official fuck you note or something from you, something that drew a clear cut in our friendship.”

He pressed his lips together and avoided your gaze.

“I miss swimming. A few times I met up with Jaeyhun, just to spend some time in the water again. I still miss you.”

“I-“ You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I don’t know what this is supposed to achieve. I don’t know why anything I could tell you would change anything.”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to change anything. Just... let’s just say what we have to say? I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to face what I was feeling head on, and that I took it out on you like this. That I was too selfish about my feelings and instead of preserving the friendship I had with you rather shut myself off and pretended to be someone else entirely. That I was such a dick addressing it, wrongly, whenever I sat down with you or met you in the hallway.”

“I don’t know if it’d have changed anything in the way I would’ve seen you if you’d have told me, then.”

You answered truthfully, the venom stealing out of your words. “Whatever the real reason was that you got jealous of Jungwoo and me. But that doesn’t change the fact we haven’t really talked since last year’s finals, and this now, here, you coming here, invading the space you pushed yourself out of-“

You shook your head once, “I appreciate you telling me, whatever this was, I guess, but it doesn’t-“

“It was because I love you, okay?”

Jeno’s sudden outburst made you close your mouth. His eyes glinted, his foot tapped the floor impatiently and he had half peeled himself off the wall.

Your heart slipped past your liver down into the region of your hips.

“It was because I loved you. Different than how I had ever loved someone before. And seeing how easy it was for Jungwoo and you to, to... You were constantly touching. Holding hands, hugging, resting in each other’s space, god, _______, he even had his hand on your thigh during movie nights with the team, while I sat aside, not even able to have my arm around you!”

“That’s not something you have a say in.” You spoke lowly. Jeno’s head whipped around, his eyes wild. His teeth released his lip where he’d bitten down on it.

“Yeah, no, I know- I know okay? Nobody owns you, I know. It just added to how insignificant I felt at that time, my inability to muster the guts to just...”

Something in him seemed to have snapped, releasing the invisible barrier keeping all of this back. You kept silent and watched him spill over.

“I realized I was so incredibly jealous because for Jungwoo it was so easy to just...just do that! And for some reason I just couldn’t. No, I couldn’t, and every time my rational side would go ‘But Jeno you can just ask!’ I just. I just... couldn’t do it. And I hate myself so much for it. I hate that I messed all of this up. I just. The last time we saw each other, before this year’s school, before summer, we didn’t even hug goodbye.”

His voice broke at the end and he stared at your face, shoulders rolling forward, looking utterly lost.

At your unmoving facade he blinked and searched the floor with his eyes instead. When he spoke again his voice was shaking, thin. “I’m sorry. I know what I did was dumb, childish, and I understand if you don’t want to see me ever again after today. I just. Wanted to say this.”

He fell back to the wall, like it had a gravitational pull on him, stuffed his hands in his pockets and huffed out a sigh.

You continued to look at him, mind blanking at the thought of what you could, should, say.

Eventually you settled on something.

“It really hurt, you know? Just suddenly being robbed of my best friend. And it’s not like this would be the first time. You know that, I told you all about the first-“ Deep breathe. “I really thought you’d be better than this. Than all of that. I thought what we had was good, a stable friendship. If you’d have wanted to include more skinship, or anything, into this friendship, you could’ve. Really, you could have just asked. I thought you knew I’d never laugh at you or ridicule you for something like that. I’ve told you things... I don’t even want to think of anymore. You know so much shit about me, and to be honest, I’m just waiting for the day you’re spilling it all out to someone and they start gossiping. I’m waiting for it. I waited for you, too, the whole of summer, the months after vacation. I knew at that point you’d dropped me, and I still couldn’t let you go, because I love my friends, I’ll always do, I just have a loyal heart and I can’t help it, and I really thought you’d know that. That even after all this absolute bullshit of first being mean and a dick and then not talking to me, I’d still take you back. Because that’s how much I love you, Jeno. That’s how weak of a person I am. I can pretend to be strong, or not caring, or like I like to punish newbies for not following guidelines, but the truth is that I will always love too deeply, too fiercely; But maybe that’s because it’s the only love I have to give. Maybe it’s the only thing I can give. Maybe, if I just love someone enough, they’ll see, feel that they are loved one day. Maybe even know it’s me loving them. But evidently, that doesn’t work out. Never does. It doesn’t really surprise me. I’m just disappointed, because you. I thought you knew. I thought you knew how much it meant to me. That you saw how much soul I poured into all of this. I don’t know what to do now. I don’t. I just know that I’ll need time. To digest all of this. I don’t know. I don’t. Know.”

When you looked at him next, you could make out two thin trails of wetness running down Jeno’s cheeks.

“If I. Would you. Could we try again? Can we be friends again? Maybe?”

He asked, so carefully.

You shrugged, glancing at his figure from the corners of your eyes. “I don’t know. It’s not up to me. If you think you can be my friend, fine. But either you’re committing to this, or don’t. I don’t have time for half-assed attempts. And it’ll need time. I can’t just... We can’t just pick up where we left off. It doesn’t work like that.”

He nodded, like he actually understood what you’d been rambling about, even though you weren’t too sure yourself.

Jeno took a deep breath and ran both his palms over his face. You leaned forward, ready to turn and leave, but finding your legs unwilling to unlock just yet. They were stiff from standing still so long, and you frowned down on them.

“Can I. Would- Would you be okay if we hugged?”

You wanted to say no. You wanted to curl away, pull back into your shell, where nothing could hurt you. This conversation, this whole day could have not happened. You could wake up tomorrow and find it was only Saturday, or worse, Friday; the whole weekend of tournament still in your future.

It seemed easy to brush over everything he’d just said, ignore it in favour of holding on to the painful grudge that had holed itself into a spot in your soul.

You wanted to turn on your heels and walk away, let the conflict sink below the surface again, until you went back to ignoring each other in the hallways of school. It seemed so easy.

“Yeah.” It escaped your lips.

Jeno was still warm. His arms were still stronger than they looked. He still liked to tuck his head on your shoulder, even though he had to lean down to do that.

He still had one arm around your lower back and the other over your shoulder blades.

He still remembered you like, longed for, bone crushing hugs that held you together.

Mushed into his chest you allowed the tight knot in your chest to dissipate. Allowed the hot tears to run away, escape your eyelids and spill over.

“It’s been so long, Jeno.” You mumbled into his white shirt. “So long.”

“I’m so sorry. I love you so much. Forgive me, please. For-“ He sucked in a breath, and you could feel his fingers clinging into the rough fabric of your team shirt, into your soft skin below. “I’m so sorry. I was such an idiot, I can’t believe I ever-“

“I accept your apology.” You whispered, and now you could feel Jeno’s chest twitching, moving under your cheek, could feel the quiet sobs as you held each other.

“Wooooo! Jenoooo!!!” Jungwoo shouted, jumping up and down with two comically large Styrofoam hands (both left) pulled over his own.

You chimed into the cheer that roared through the crowd and twisted into a very loud ‘boo!’ as the opposing team pulled a stunt.

Even though you knew nothing about football, and no matter how much Jeno attempted to explain its rules, it wouldn’t stick.

But that was okay.

After the game was won, you still got to run down to the field to hug a disgustingly sweaty Jeno, who’d drop his helmet off to the side and open his arms for you.

You still got to sit on the hood of your new, gently used car, with a box of pizza and a whole 2l bottle of 7up, relishing in the warm summer air that filled the now deserted parking lot behind the stadium.

You still got to watch the sky turn orange, gold and red and pink, and you still got to lean your head on his shoulder, with his head resting on top of yours, damp hair from the shower drying in the still air.

Jungwoo found you and joined you, plopping down next to Jeno, mimicking your position and whining until Jeno placed his other arm around Jungwoo’s shoulders.

And it was good.

55 notes · View notes

croatian-magician · 6 years ago

Text

Long live the king (part 2)

Pairing: Šejan

Word count: 2758

Summary: Šime becomes king of France and finds love along the way

Warnings: sex but nothing too explicit

Notes: I entirely blame the no good gang for this mess of a story.

“Ugh, I’m so done with being king!” Šime whined, walking around in his office as Dejan observed him with an amused look.

“What happened again?”

“It’s the nobles of the court! The few who decided to stay at Versailles when I said they could go back to their lands, anyway. They’re complaining, saying that I’m not holding enough parties here, that the castle is boring, the food not good enough. So I told the cooks ‘Let them have domaćica!’ because that’s like, the best food ever, but no, they’re still complaining. Can’t they be like normal people and, I don’t know, find a soule and go play outside? No, of course, that’s not good enough for them!”

“Well, it is true that you are not too fond of ballet. And I don’t want to be rude or anything, but it is expected of a king to organize events where people can dance. That’s tradition and most people at the court like it. I could take care of it myself so you wouldn’t be bothered by the preparations.” Dejan suggested.

At his words, Šime tensed and the nobleman knew something was wrong, even though he still needed to find what.

“Come on, we don’t have money to waste on something that stupid. Can’t we have, I don’t know, a comedy play instead? Those are funnier.”

“Šime, don’t turn around the subject and just tell me what’s bothering you. What, you don’t know to dance? I’m sure a great seducer like you must…”

Dejan suddenly lost his voice as his king looked away, clearly embarrassed by his words. His expression turned softer as he gently put his hands on his waist so that he wouldn’t run away.

“You really don’t? Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I used to know, a long time ago, but I forgot most of it when I was in prison. Just like I never learned the new dances that are in fashion now. Also, I can barely stand on those high heels I have to wear, so dancing? I would just make a fool of myself. Have you ever seen a king who didn’t know how to dance?”

“So that’s your big problem? You should have just told me earlier. I’ll teach you.

“You… You’d really do that?”

“Of course. You’ll need to learn how to lead, though.”

“Can’t I just follow? It would be easier.” Šime protested.

“Maybe, but that’s not what’s expected of a king. Come on, just put your hands here, on my waist.”

“Is this your way of seducing me? Because it’s working.”

Šime leaned toward Dejan so he could start sucking at his neck but the nobleman pushed him away gently.

“Oh no, you’re not getting away with it that easily. You need to learn how to dance or people will start wondering again if you really come from a royal family or if it’s just a lie. We can do this later, though.”

“Can I get kisses as rewards? Because if the answer is yes, then I’m in.”

“Of course you can, you idiot king. Now, I’m going to show you the steps, so stay focused…”

After a while, Šime grew accustomed to the dance training sessions. In fact, he even started enjoying it, especially once he decided to sing in the middle of dancing. It started as a joke, but Dejan joined him and soon enough, the lyrics of Marica were filling the room.

It was also supposed to stay between them, but people heard the king humming the tone while he was walking in his gardens and it soon became quite popular. Once it came to his ear that his people was dancing to Marica, Šime’s desire to learn how to dance to it rose up and he made impressing progresses in little time.

The first times he partied, Šime didn’t like it that much, mostly because he had to dance with French ladies instead of Dejan. However, he also grew more acquainted with some great people who weren’t bothered that much by the etiquette, just like him. Mario was always trying to fight someone, Domagoj always found a way to wreck havoc around him and Ivan was always flirting with Luka, a young captain serving in the army. Since Šime had put an end to most of the wars when he became king, Luka now had nothing much to do except hanging around in the castle to assure the king’s safety, which suited Ivan quite well.

But mostly, the king liked those nights because it always ended up with him tumbling into bed with Dejan, one way or another. This had been one of those nights and Šime slowly awakened, covers barely covering his waist, as the morning light disturbed his sleep. He was laying naked in bed with his lover’s arms around his body. When his eyes met Dejan’s, he expected his partner to scold him for being too careless the day before.

Usually, Dejan refused to sleep in the same bed as him, in fear someone would surprise them together in the morning. But today, he was too busy tracing the lines of Šime’s tattoos with his fingers to lecture him. The king shivered under the touch, pleased to receive such a warm welcome so early.

“Good morning, mon amour.” He whispered, turning around so he could kiss Dejan.

It was slow and lazy. Soon, Šime fell back onto the bed as Dejan started playing with his tattoos again.

“I was wondering, why do you have those? Not to be rude, but it is quite unusual for noblemen to have tattoos.”

“Well, I was a prisoner not so long ago, remember? Sometimes, other people shared my cell for a few days or weeks. They were all condemned to the guillotine, though, so they never stayed for long, but I befriended some of them and they accepted to make these tattoos. Since I thought I would wear that iron mask forever, I saw it as a way to keep my individuality. I don’t know if that makes sense, but somehow that helped me to hold on through the years and to protect myself from insanity long enough for you to find me and get me out of there.”

“No, I understand. Also, if you want to know, it looks beautiful on you.”

“Hmm, looks like someone is flattering me. If you’re trying to get money or a title out of your king, I’ll let you know that I can’t be corrupted that easily.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m no interested in those things. Your love and your body are the only things I wish to possess right now.”

“If that is so, then what don’t you claim it for yourself?”

Dejan didn’t resist that last call of temptation. He pushed Šime into the mattress, covering his neck and shoulders in lustful kisses. The king closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, willingly offering himself to his lover.

He could only be this vulnerable when he was with Dejan. With him, he could lose control, forget his responsibilities for a while, but also the struggles he had faced when he was a prisoner. As their bodies rocked together, his whole world revolved around Dejan, obscuring everything else.

As his lover brought them both to completion, he couldn’t do anything but whisper his name against his shoulder, trying his best to stay quiet but failing at it. Later, he would worry about someone discovering their secret. But right now, he let himself be engulfed by pleasure one last time before falling back into the covers.

It was hard for him to find his breath again, but once he managed to do it, he immediately snuggled into Dejan’s side, happy and content.

“You know you can’t stay in bed too late, your majesty.” Dejan reminded him after a while.

“Shut up, I’m feeling sleepy and it’s your fault.”

“I wasn’t the one who suggested this, if I remember well.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have to beg you either.” Šime groaned, but he still forced himself to stand up.

His legs were still unsteady, but Dejan was there to help him, as always. Still, a flicker of worry passed through his stare.

“I didn’t go too hard on you, right?”

“Of course you didn’t. Now please help me find clothes before some servant starts worrying about me and come in to ask about my well-being.”

“You can just take those from yesterday. No one will notice.”

“Of course someone will notice! Did you try talking with Mario for more than five minutes? Aside from fighting people, the man’s obsessed by fashion! And even if that wasn’t the case, my tights are ruined because a certain someone thought it would be a good idea to use his teeth to take them off of me last night!”

“You found it hot!”

“Of course I found it hot, but that won’t help me getting dressed right now!”

They were about to argue when they heard a knock on the door. Both men stared at each other with horror written all over their faces.

“What do we do?” Dejan asked.

“I don’t know, maybe try hiding under the bed? I’ll go back in and pretend to still be sleeping.”

“Yeah, like that will work with your clothes and mines still spread all over the room.”

Another knock put an end to their quarrel, and the, they both froze when they heard the person behind the door talking, obviously amused.

“Please, don’t bother hiding under the bed. This is Ivan and I just wanted to say that you guys don’t need to hurry, because the whole castle already knows you’re seeing each other and no one cares. Also, it would be nice of you to make less noise while Luka is on guarding duty near your apartments. He’s trying to keep you alive and safe from murderers, so have some mercy for him.”

Dejan and Šime both grew red in shame, although they were both relieved that they wouldn’t have to face bigger consequences. Ivan left before Šime could try to deny anything, leaving the two lovers to their realization.

“Okay, let’s try to see the bright side of this. Obviously, our relationship isn’t a problem, contrary to what we were expecting. Also, Ivan is one to talk. Everybody knows he’s constantly making love eyes at Luka.” Šime whined.

“Still, we weren’t careful enough. Maybe it doesn’t bother anyone here, but our secret love could bother some people. You’re not without knowing that officially, what we are doing is forbidden out of marriage and…”

“Then let’s get married!”

Dejan’s brain stopped functioning for a second, before he stared at Šime with unbelieving eyes. A spark of joy shone in the nobleman’s stare, but Dejan quickly chased it away.

“Listen, Šime, I’m glad to know you love me that much, but this isn’t possible. A king like you could only marry a prince or a princess, not someone of a lower rank. No one would accept that.”

“I never talked of an official wedding. We could do it in secret, and if someone comes one day to bother us about our relationship, we could just say ‘hey, guess what? We were married all along.’”

“And who would marry us, exactly?”

“That doesn’t matter, really. The point of a secret wedding is that it stays secret, no? Maybe we could ask Luka? Domo once said he kinda looked like a priest, with how innocent he appears.”

“Domo was also drunk that night and he mistook Suba for a frog and Lovre for a giraffe.”

“I’m king, I can do whatever I want. And if I say Luka is a priest, then he is. And we could always blackmail him about his relationship with Ivan to make sure he won’t tell anything.”

“I think power is getting to your head. Maybe making you king was more dangerous than I thought.”

“I just want you to be my husband. Is this too much to ask?”

“Don’t look at me with those eyes, it’s not fair and you know it. We’re not getting a secret wedding and we’re not having Luka as our priest. End of discussion.”

“Ainsi, je vous déclare unis par les liens sacrés du mariage. Vous pouvez embrasser le marié.”

Šime grinned widely as his lips joined with Dejan’s, while behind them, Luka looked particularly displeased to be here, trapped in bishop clothes. He cleared his throat, loud enough to interrupt the two lovebirds.

“Now that we’re done, can I change clothes and go back to Ivan? And also, can we please never mention what happened today ever again?”

“Come on, don’t be mad. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t that bad, brother Modrić.”

“For the love of god, will you please stop using that ridiculous nickname?”

“That’s not a nickname!” Šime protested. “I decide who the higher-ups of the church are in my country, so from now on, you’re brother Modrić!”

“Whatever you say. Now I’ll just go before Ivan worries because you two practically kidnapped me in the middle of the night just so I could participate in your little secret ceremony.”

“In my defense, that was Šime’s idea!” Dejan intervened.

“I don’t want to know whose idea it was! I clearly remember you both dragging me out of my room for this nonsense.”

“Fine, Fine, whatever you say. Oh, and since you’re going to see Ivan, can you tell him to deliver some domaćica to my apartments tomorrow morning?” Šime asked.

“Sometimes, I wonder if you two aren’t having a contest at finding the most ridiculous jobs for us. But sure, Ivan will deliver domaćica tomorrow morning, your highness.”

In Luka’s mouth, the words sounded terribly ironic. He bowed in an exaggerated way before leaving the chapel. Dejan and Šime ended up alone, both still dressed in their most fancy clothes. They had huge grins on their faces and Šime didn’t lose a second to throw himself into the nobleman’s arms.

“I can’t believe we did it. That we got married. It still feels unreal, to think that I got that far. All that thanks to you…”

Šime laid his head on Dejan’s shoulder, sighing happily. His now husband rubbed his back gently, knowing that it was sometimes still hard for him to process all this.

“I only gave you the recognition you deserve… Hey, don’t look at me like that! Okay, maybe making you king was a bit extreme, but it’s not as if I had a choice. And to be honest, everyone loves you here. You’re kind, you’re always one to party, you take care of your subjects… Luka, Ivan, Suba, they’re not stupid, you know. I’m sure they guessed a long time ago that there’s not a drop of royalty in your blood.”

“What? But if that’s true, why didn’t they say anything?”

“Simply because they can see that you’re a good king, even though we can get a bit crazy with the domaćica sometimes.”

“Hey, I won’t let you insult domaćica!”

“Of course not, mon cher, of course not. All I wanted to say is that you’re a great king and that I couldn’t be more proud to be your husband.”

“I could return you the compliment, you know. One life won’t be enough to thank you for getting me out of that awful jail.”

“Oh, wait, I have an idea! You want to thank me? Then what do you think of writing a false later to Mario? We’ll just have to pretend we’re Ramos provoking him in duel! They hate each other so much it’s almost funny. Oh, and we could ask Domo to help us find a good way of pranking him. What do you think?”

“I think that you have to be my soulmate, because you’re just brilliant and I love you. Although this can wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh, is someone eager to enjoy his wedding night?” Dejan teased him, wriggling his eyebrows in a ridiculous way that made Šime huff in laughter.

“I’m mostly interested in having domaćica for breakfast, but I guess that’ll do too.”

“Come here, you mischievous king!”

Šime yelped when Dejan lifted him off the ground, but a grin soon made its way back onto his face.

“So, are you going to carry me bridal style to our room or what?”

Dejan laughed before manhandling him until he had one hand under Šime’s knees and the king’s arms wrapped around his neck.

“Tout ce que mon roi désire.”

Some historical facts:

The game of soule was played with a ball and can be seen as the ancestor of modern football

Translation:

Mon amour: my love

Ainsi, je vous déclare unis par les liens sacrés du mariage. Vous pouvez embrasser le marié: I know declare you bound by the holy links of marriage, you can kiss the husband

Mon cher: my dear

Tout ce que mon roi désire: anything my king desires

Taglist: @arduango @slashandsports @mad-for-mandzukic @lovre-n @mamaopal @pachua @marilyn-mandzukic @sebby-ravnica @sejan-is-love @puolendollarinonni @flemishyugotalian @ante-ray-bitch @mandzukics @mandzos-bitch @synne-sol @winters-chiid @ed-dzeko @kettie09 @tinymodric @zadarskabagudina @domo-no-domo-yes @mrsmodric @lovefor-lovren @lovren-la-vida-luka

#sejan #sime vrsaljko #dejan lovren #croatia nt #football slash #historical au #french king sime #fic #my writing

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chubbychasershortstories · 6 years ago

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Early Lessons - Chapters 5, 6 & 7

Chapter 5: Linda, John and Butch

There was a sweet girl about my age working at BK at that time named Linda. She always seemed to smile through the grueling work and I had no idea how she managed it. I worked really hard, but I wasn’t particularly happy while doing it.

We ended a dinner shift together at 10pm and as we left, we headed down the same street. I offered to escort her home as we didn’t live in the safest of neighborhoods. She accepted, thanking me, and asked me in when we made it to her apartment.

We chatted and got to know each other better while sipping on sodas. She was a very warm and caring person. I suddenly had a strange urge and just blurted it out, “I’m gay.” I had never admitted this to anyone I wasn’t in love with. Her response was, “Wow, I’ve never had a gay friend before.” She called me a friend on our first meeting and it felt great. She seemed totally intrigued and asked me questions I hadn’t even considered and couldn’t really answer, given my limited experience.

She opened up to me too and told me she was almost 18 now and had been kicked out of her home for dating someone her parents disapproved of vehemently. The two were married in a civil ceremony 2 months later and shared this apartment. He worked construction on a 10 days out - 4 days in schedule. I really liked John when we met and the three of us would party together and shoot pool at a nearby hall.

Linda had already explained to John that she had a gay friend now and he took it in stride and never made any untoward comments about it. I really respected him for that. We were in Texas after all. The second time we met, John gave me a hug when he got home right after giving Linda a hug and a kiss. He thanked me for being a good friend to Linda. He said he felt better about leaving her alone knowing I would be there for her. It felt really good to have close friends from whom I didn’t need to hide anything about myself. It felt very liberating.

I soon met Linda’s ‘lover on the side’, Butch. He was a reform school kid about our age. He had a very lanky build, weighing barely more than I. He had reform school tattoos that looked horrible and a peculiar haircut with the straight bangs cut at an angle across his face, high to low. He was an exhibitionist as well and I ended up watching him plow Linda with his massive cock on the day we met. Massive didn’t cover it. His cock looked to be 14 inches in length and as thick as a can of beer. I’m not exaggerating. Linda had her head thrown back in a rapturous pose. Butch kept looking back at my awed expression and looked quite pleased with himself at my stunned reaction. Afterward, he would often come by my garage apartment on his own to chat and party and we had a decent friendship of our own going.

John’s current work project finished before the 10-day mark. He arrived home at mid-day unexpectedly and heard a huge commotion in the bedroom. Butch had barely scrambled out the 2nd story window leaving the screen in tatters. John pressed Linda for what was going on and why the window had no screen left.

I heard a knock on my door. It was John with Linda in tow. She was staring at the ground. “Did you just jump out of my bedroom window?” he asked, incredulously. Linda had fumbled for her explanation on his return and resorted to accusing me since John knew I would not have been screwing her behind his back. She really didn’t want to admit to the truth.

I answered, “No?” wondering where the question would have come from. Then the pieces fell into place in my mind. “You LIED to me!” he directed at Linda as she started to cry. “Who WAS it?!?”

I asked them to come inside and talk about it. I don’t know where I found the “wisdom” having no experience, but I sat them down and walked through having them explain what their needs and expectations were. I told them I could feel that they belonged together and that they should work on accommodating each other’s needs to make their marriage work. Otherwise, one or both of them would be suffering until they would inevitably have to break it off. They agreed and worked out a new set of boundaries that they could both accept so that they could remain together in a more honest arrangement. They both hugged me hard and thanked me before leaving for home, hand in hand. Who would have thought that an inexperienced, gay 16-year-old could be a successful marriage counselor?

Chapter 6: The Descent

At work, I continued to outpace every other worker with at least twice the production. I learned my work ethic with my first job at age 5 reclaiming salvaged bricks from demolitions with a hand hatchet and huge screwdriver for a penny a brick.

I had been closing on the weekends for 3 years now. I always hustled while others plodded overnight. I was a smoker and really needed at least a drag or two but wasn’t going to ask for a break. So, I had my smoke in my mouth and lighter in hand as I hustled out the back door with another full trash bin on wheels, headed towards the dumpster in the back of the parking lot. Without missing a beat, I lit the cigarette and enjoyed a partial smoke while quickly dumping the trash and bouncing back. I stomped the smoke out in stride as I hit the back door buzzer.

The closing manager was a tall, skinny Hispanic guy who really didn’t like me for some reason. I think it was straight up racism, but I had tolerated his “white boy” comments and extra assignments without protest. He called me into the tiny back office as soon as I cleared the door. “There was a District Manager parked down the block and he saw you smoking and told me I needed to fire you right now.”

It was 3:30am and I knew he was lying and that he had seen me go out prepped for my partial smoke and was just using the situation to harass me again.

“I know you’re a fucking liar, but here, let me save you the trouble.” I spit my words and pulled my dorky BK uniform off in one motion and threw it into his chest and left. I had another kitchen job in 2 days. Unfortunately, they failed to let me know it was only seasonal and would end with the University’s home-game football season. To my complete surprise, I was laid off in mid-December. This time the job market sucked and no one was hiring. I was set to lose my lease on New Year’s Day.

Chapter 7: Rock Bottom with Butch and Richard

When I let Butch know I was unemployed and about to be homeless, he talked with his roommate and benefactor Richard. Richard decided to take me in, as he had Butch, although neither of us had any resources. He said it would be fine. He laughed and told me I could ‘sing for my supper’ and sleep on the couch. He liked my jokes and loved to hear me play and sing. Richard was very average looking and about 23 years old, I believe.

I was wondering how he could be so generous on his meager salary as an electronics assembler at the Texas Instruments plant. He arrived home on the afternoon of our first Friday as a household grinning like the Cheshire Cat holding his $120.00 weekly paycheck. How could he be so pumped to be holding a weekly check that only covered a third of the rent on his 2-bedroom apartment? I soon found out.

“Come on!” he shouted on the way to his old beater of a car. We piled in and drove by the bank to cash his check then on to his “connection’s” place. With $100.00, he purchased 20 ¼ gram packets of what I later learned was some of the purest crystal meth to hit the city in ages. They called it ‘Crank’. I was clueless but didn’t let on. We sped over to Party A and quickly unloaded the stash for $200.00. We repeated the process, doubling up leaving Party A with $400.00. Back we went to purchase twice the volume then and headed to Party B. $800.00, then $1600.00. I couldn’t believe what I was a part of. I had seen the stuff being snorted at Party A, but at Party B the product seemed to disappear into a back room where the door was always kept closed. I found out later that the users in the backroom at Party B were injecting the stuff. 7 of the IV users migrated to Richard’s apartment to continue the action. I had been given lots to drink and smoke at these parties and was fairly well lit when we got home around 1am.

There was a guy that I was attracted to among the 7 tagalongs. Feeling very uninhibited, I was deep in conversation with him when Butch moved into my side with his back to me while grabbing my right arm off the back of the couch securing it out of my sight in front of him. I tried to finish a thought I was expressing to the cute chubby guy when I felt a sting at the crease of my elbow. Butch held my arm tightly so I couldn’t move. Without my knowledge or consent, Butch and Richard had just mainlined me with 5 of the individual user packets worth of the stuff prepped for a syringe, 1.25 grams. This was apparently my “cut” of the action, along with $50.00 cash.

Before I could get an explanation, the solution pumped through my heart and up to my brain. It felt like being strapped to a rocket. I could feel my rapid, pounding pulse at my temples, ears and neck. After maybe 15 minutes, the initial rush was replaced by a complete sense of euphoria that lasted the majority of 2 days before subsiding. Day 3 was HELL. Every cell in my body ached and yearned. I was grateful that the supply was exhausted or I would have begged, borrowed or stolen for another dose to regain the euphoric effect.

Butch and I were home alone having not slept or eaten yet on Monday, Day 3. That’s when I found out that Butch was Bi. He asked if I would have sex with him. He told me he had wanted to ever since his exhibition show with Linda. He had helped me out of a tight jam and I felt obligated but uninspired as I agreed to try. I warned him there was no way I could take it like Linda had. He assured me he didn’t expect that. Surprisingly, he wanted me to screw him. Try as I might, I couldn’t get my equipment to function for him in my compromised and unenthused state and he settled for a combination BJ and two-handed jerk. I could barely get the head of it in my mouth while guarding my teeth. The experience made me feel hollow inside. I vowed to never have that sort of sex again. Neither Butch nor Richard were my type and I figured they’d expect me to pay for my room and board by having sex with at least one if not both of them. I knew I couldn’t continue down this road. Staying with Butch and Richard would turn me into a meth addicted sex toy.

Stay tuned. More to come.

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buckyscrystalqueen · 6 years ago

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Half Blood, Whole Heart: Part 32

Pairings: Jax x Reader, sister Winchester!reader- SOA/SPN Crossover

Warnings: Swearing, angst, Dean being a demon dick, smut, hate sex, angry sex, mention of cheating out of anger (that doesn’t happen), almost getting caught in a compromising position by your kid……

Word Count: 1,845

A/N: So I decided to repost my novel- the story that someone stole from my old blog and put up on Wattpad. PLEASE don’t be an asshole and steal my stories. It CRUSHED me when it happened and almost ran me off Tumblr.

Half Blood, Whole Heart Masterlist Aesthetic by @ravenangel33

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~ NOVEMBER 13TH 2011 ~~~~~~~~

The five month between your oldest son’s birthday and your youngest’s first went by slowly and entirely too quickly at the same time. You and Jax forced yourselves to live life as normally as possible for your sons. The two of you and Bobby agreed not to tell Opie and Lyla; she didn’t need the stress and you didn’t want Opie to have to lie to her. You tried not to think about it; tried not to worry about the unknown but you still found yourself crying yourself to sleep in Jax’s arms every night. The unknown finally made itself known the day before John’s first birthday.

“Hey have you seen this solar eclipse thing we have going on?” Lyla asked as you sat in your rocking chair on your front porch smoking a cigarette.

“Yep. Out front looking at it now.” You told your friend over the phone with tears slowly falling down your cheeks. You knew it wasn’t a solar eclipse. This was the end.

“It’s crazy. According to the news, NASA doesn’t even know what’s going on. The moon isn’t causing it.”

“I’m sure it’s no big deal.” You lied as you tried to wipe your tears away. “Probably just some fluke thing.”

“Yea, probably. Hey, let me call you back, I have a baby on my bladder.” You let out a forced laugh and hung up the phone. Jax walked out to join you after putting your sons down for a nap. He sat down in his rocker and you immediately got up and moved to his lap wordlessly.

“What’s gunna happen?” He asked as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you as close as physically possible. You shook your head before resting it on his shoulder.

“I don’t know. I think it just… ends.” He gently rocked the two of you back and forth as you watched the sun diminish quickly from the bright glowing orange light it had been all morning.

“Should we wake the boys?” Jax whispered as dusk began to settle in despite it being the middle of the morning. You shook your head.

“Let them sleep. They don’t need to see this.” You said as you buried your tear stained face in your husband’s neck.

“I’m not done loving you yet.” He choked as his tears fell on your face. He pulled you impossibly closer as sobs wracked your bodies.

“I will never be done.” As night enveloped you, you forced your head up and cupped your husbands cheeks. “I love you, Jax.” You whispered; wanting those to be the last words he heard.

“I love you, too, (Y/N).” He replied as he tangled his hands in your hair and crushed his lips to yours. Your tears mixed together on your skin as you said good bye to the love of your life; wishing you could have just one more day with your family. Wishing that this wasn’t really happening. Wishing that it wasn’t suddenly so damn hot in the winter… You brow furrowed and you pulled away and opened your eyes as your phone rang on the table. Your eyes flew open wider to see the morning light.

“What the hell…?” You asked as you looked around while your phone stopped ringing.

“Are we dead?” Jax asked as you phone started ringing again. You reached back and grabbed it off the table. You shook your head when you saw the name on the caller ID. You put it on speaker as you stood up and looked at the sun curiously.

“Sam? What the hell…?”

“Dean stopped her.” You whipped around to look at Jax as a choked laugh escaped your lips.

“It’s over?” You asked as he jumped up from his chair and wrapped you in a hug.

“Fuck, I love you.” He said as he crashed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

“Yea… sorry to interrupt guys but… De…” His words were choked off and he cleared his throat. “Dean didn’t make it out of this one and he’s… it’s the real deal this time.” You pulled back and looked at the phone in your hand as you gripped Jax’s arm for balance.

“W-what?” You stammered. “He had to have… there’s no way…”

“I’m heading to you. I’m in Louisville so I’ll be there tonight. (Y/N), I… I need you.” You nodded as tears welled in your eyes once more.

“Yea… Sammy, I’m here. We’re here for you.” Sam tried to say something but changed his mind; hanging up the phone with a sob. You looked at Jax as regret and guilt crashed down on you and your lip began to quiver.

“The last thing I said to him…” Was all you could get out before you burst into tears.

“Fuck. Baby, shhh. It’s OK.” Jax soothed as he wrapped you in his arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. He knows you love him.”

“Dean…”

——

“Mommy m’eese!” Thomas cried out over the small TV you had in your kitchen while you made lunch for your sons. You forced yourself to focus on being a mother and a functioning member of society and not the fact that you had to find a way to tell your son that Uncle Dean was living in heaven with the winged dicks that you partially blamed for his death. Then again, you blamed everyone except your brothers.

“Thomas Eric, I need you to stop yelling. I promise you, you will get your mac and cheese if you just wait a minute.”

“… Filip Telford escaped from Folsom Prison in California today after this morning’s solar eclipse knocked out the power in the prison. He is considered armed and dangerous…” You whipped away from the stove and looked at Chib’s mug shot on TV as your phone started ringing. You ran to the kitchen window as your son continued to whine about lunch and threw it open.

“Jax! Get in here; you need to see this!” You heard the rocker he was sitting in scrape across the floor as you grabbed your cell phone.

“Did you see it?” Lyla practically shouted as you rewound the news story for Jax.

“Yea. Showing Jax now. I gotta get ahold of Crowley to find him before they do. Let me call you back.”

“We’re coming over.” You heard Opie say in the back ground. You didn’t even get a chance to respond before she hung up. You pushed pause on the TV as Jax ran into the kitchen looking confused and a little panicked.

“Look.” You said as you pointed to Chibs’ mugshot and hit play; turning up the volume to counter Thomas’ now almost screaming to get your attention and John’s cries at the noise. Behind your back, Jax grabbed a package of Oreo’s from the cabinet and gave one to each son, effectively silencing them as you single handedly finished lunch while calling Crowley.

“Well hello kitten. Haven't heard from you in a while.”

“Still having a little bit of trouble erasing mental images from my mind, sorry. Hey, I need a demon power favor.” Crowley chuckled as you grabbed a pre-made, crust free peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the fridge and put it on Thomas’ plate.

“And what would that be, dove?” You smirked, knowing he would not like your request as you put the phone on speaker and leaned back against the counter.

“First, I want you to know you are on speaker, in my kitchen and the boys are in here for lunch. Second… Chibs managed to escape from Folsom this morning. I need you…

“Over my dead body am I saving that wretched, cock sucking, dick for brains wanker!”

“Hey! Kids!” Jax shouted as he muted the TV.

“And technically, you are already dead so I guess that works too. Consider it payment for your summer of love?”

“You are a… horrible individual, (Y/N).” Crowley said as he hung up the phone. You laughed as you put the phone down on the counter down and looked at your now chocolate covered sons to see why they were so quiet.

“Really, Jackson? Oreos?” You husband looked at his sons with a look of almost pride and shrugged.

“They were hungry. Couldn’t let them starve.” You rolled your eyes as you spooned mac and cheese onto the plate with the sandwich.

“You can handle pre-nap bath time for that one then.” You said as you handed him Thomas’ plate at the same time that your entry way turned into a European screaming match.

“Take yer filthy English ‘ands of me, ye weasel-headed bastard!”

“Oi! I’m here as a fucking favor and I’m fucking Scottish, you twat!”

“Like fuckin’ ‘ell…” You went running out of your kitchen with an uncontrollable smile on your face.

“Whoa! Easy killer!” You said as you and Jax rounded the corner at the same time Opie and Lyla ran through your front door. Chibs, who was still dressed in a prison uniform, brandishing a hand made shiv looked around at the four of you in utter shock as Thomas shrieked at the sound of his uncle’s voice.

“REE!” He screamed as he came running out of the kitchen, covered in chocolate and Kraft cheese sauce.

“Who is this handsome… yet extremely dirty fella, hmm? Can’t be my little Thomas?” Crowley said as he picked up his nephew he hadn’t seen in a year.

“Ye’s all are dead!” Chibs finally said as he looked around the room.

“Not quite. We are as dead as you will be by the end of the day, however.” Jax said as you and he looked over at Crowley. The King, feeling the eyes on him as he tried to wipe chunks of cookie out of his nephew’s hair, looked over at you with his eye brows raised.

“Was that a question…” he started. You arched your eyebrow with a small smile and Crowley groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, alright. I’ll kill the bloody cunt.”

“Language!” You snapped as Crowley walked into the kitchen with Thomas to finish lunch.

“Bloody hell! When did this one shoot up?!” Crowley called out.

“This one?” Chibs asked as you stepped back into the kitchen to answer Crowley.

“Our other son. Turns one tomorrow, actually. John Filip.” Jax said. You looked back at your friend as his eyes filled with tears and you nodded.

“You were there for me when we needed you. I had to honor that memory some how.” You said softly as you gestured him into the kitchen. Chibs nodded slightly as he followed you; stopping to give Jax a fast hug.

“Oh, love. It’s mini-ye.” Chibs said as he stopped next to you and looked across the kitchen at your youngest.

“Oh no. He may look like me but that little boy is Jax’s mini. Tommy is mine.” You said as you watched Crowley airplane mac and cheese into John’s mouth. With a small smile you pat your friends shoulder. “Come on… let’s go talk.”

Part 33

#Jax x Reader #Half Blood Whole Heart #soa/spn crossover

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sisterbestill · 6 years ago

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I write this on my iPhone, sitting next to my dad, who is currently getting his 4th Chemo Therapy Treatment of Carboplatin and Taxol. The drugs are chemical bombs and each week the accumulative damage grows. They pre-treat him with histamine blocking meds so he doesn’t have reactions, but he has reactions during the infusion, like he can’t breath. The nurses are well aware and calmly manage the reactions with more meds. These meds cause him to become very drowsy, so the remainder of the day becomes about keeping him from falling.

I still am trying to process all that has occurred since early August 2018. I look back on these pictures of our last outing at Lake Jocassee and never would have guessed how things would change just a week later. I’ve often wondered how cancer strikes people so quickly, now I know. I am writing this so I will never forget each minute that will forever live with me. I am also using this as a way to cope and understand something that is unfamiliar and terrifying.

My parents have always taken care of themselves and one another. They have been very lucky to have good health and I have been lucky to have them as energetic as they are in their eighties. When they moved up here from Florida, I was delighted I was going to finally be able to spend more time with them - like daily and weekly vs. just twice a year. They moved 15 minutes away or a lovely 60 min bike ride through rolling countryside and mountains. I was giddy and felt the universe shift a bit. I felt pulled to them. They are in fact two of the coolest, funniest, and open-minded people I know.

Shortly after this kayak trip (photos above) they decided to make a pact to live to 100 and created a “bucket list”. They were thankful for their health and never took it for granted. Perhaps the bucket list idea was a way to for them to celebrate how young they felt or perhaps they recognized they were chronologically getting up there.

Paddling on Jocassee was relaxing, calm, and beautiful; Certainly an experience they would have loved to have recreated again and I am hopeful they will. It may look different in the future, but I suspect the beauty and calmness of the lake will bath their brains in peace.

A week after snapping these pics, I got a call from my mom, she was on her way to the ER with my Dad. I was working one floor up and met them in the ER. While we waited, I learned my Dad had been feeling fatigued for several months and had developed shortness of breath over last few weeks. It wasn’t evident on the kayak trip that he was struggling, but it was obvious in the ER. My mom said they had been to their primary care several times and their primary care doc reassured him it was natural aging, as tests did not reveal anything to be concerned about.

As we sat for 6 hours in the waiting area, I was certain it was nothing serious. Afterall, my dad had no other health issues other than a little hypertension. His meds consisted of an 81 mg baby aspirin and amlodipine 2.5 mg each day - what a lucky guy. I was thinking maybe he had pleurisy or walking pneumonia.

We finally were shown to a room and labs were drawn. We were relieved to finally get things moving. By this time my sister, Lori, and I were getting silly from the fatigue of waiting. We were thoroughly entertained by a belligerent drunk guy on a stretcher in the halllway who seemed to draw all the attention of the medical staff while we well-behaved folks waited for answers.

I noticed my dad’s HR would easily jump to a sinus tach in the 130s with just a little bit of movement. Something didn’t seem right, but I was not going to speculate or think the worst. I was just his daughter, at his side, keeping the mood light.

We were informed by the physician assistant caring for us that his left diaphragm was elevated and was probably the cause of his shortness of breath. I was a little taken back as this was an unusual finding that left me with a knot in my stomach. Not too long after this finding he was whisked away for a CT of his chest.

He returned to the room and we waited for results. The PA came in with a sticky note and said she read off it: “You have a very large anterior mediastinal mass...No one here will operate because of your age...We are discharging you and you will need to see an oncologist.”

Our mouths dropped. My stomach bottomed-out as she said “mass” and my face flushed. We all just blankly looked at one another. Go home?

I spoke to a good nurse friend in recovery and she called the thoracic resident. I spoke to the PA who delivered the news and said, “We can’t go home. He is short of breath. He and my mom live alone. His Heart rate is bouncing up to 130s. He is weak. Please admit him and consult thoracic surgery.” My dad chimes in, “I’m not a throw away!” Meaning he doesn’t want to be dismissed because of his chronological age. He was far healthier than most half his age and this deserved a second look. The radiologist who read the report never actually saw my dad, but he did see a birthdate.

The next day, the interventional radiologist who read his CT and gave us the crappy news also did a needle biopsy of this baseball size mass.

We went home on a Wednesday after 2 days and waited. We were waiting for results and waiting for an appointment with a thoracic surgeon. Waiting is tough and if you are sick you will learn the meaning of patience.

We made it to Sunday when I thought something wasn’t right with my dad. He continued to have episodes of shortness of breath, but something was still off. I knew he had anxiety, but this was different. He said he felt fine and I almost left it at that. As a nurse you learn to listen to your 6th sense.

My parents live in a remote part of the county where everything is 30 min away. I left there house and an hour later returned with a pulse oximeter that I purchased from a CVS drug store. His oxygenation was 95% not bad for a guy now breathing 40 times a minute with 1.25 lung capacity. However, his pulse read 155 and I was baffled. No way?! I palpated his radial artery and it was a match. Off we went to the ER...

ER visit number II was faster as we went to a smaller satellite hospital 30 min from their home. The rhythm was too fast on the monitor to establish what it was so the ER MD attempted to chemically cardiovert him with adenosine. Adenosine is pushed quickly through an IV. It stops and restarts the heart. I can not lie, I was nervous. It’s so diffferent when this is your own family member. My mom tearfully excused herself and I stayed by his bedside. The ER doc informed my dad it would suck, and we proceeded. It sucked. He felt his heart stop and I watched his eyes bulge and panic come across his face for 3 of the longest seconds of my life. We were able to see he had an underlying atrial flutter. We were started on a verapamil drip and were transported to the main hospital for management by a cardiologist. His heart converted back to a normal rhythm on the verapamil drip before we left the ER in transport to Main hospital at 1 am. We were under the impression it was stress related to the new shitty diagnosis and having to wait on results.

The next day he had an echocardiogram to look at the structure and function of his heart. He was started on a Metoprolol a drug that blocks adrenaline and keeps heart rate lower and it was doing its’ job.

He spent 2 nights in hospital and outside of naps, lacked solid hours of good sleep. We finally got word that his ECHO results were good. No one said a word about metastatic disease to his pericardium. We were told he had a small ring of fluid within the pericardial sack, but it wasn’t a lot and certainly not something they felt needed draining. The atrial flutter responded well to the metoprolol and we were discharged home to once again wait for our thoracic surgery appointment.

We finally made it to the thoracic surgeon to learn of what was growing in my dad’s mediastinum. I was hoping for a thymoma, but instead we drew the really short stick with a highly aggressive, highly invasive cancer called: Squamos Cell Thymic Carcinoma.

WTF? Come on! Can we not catch a break here?

I had never heard of this type of cancer and neither have many in the medical field cause in addition to being aggressive and invasive, it is also a rare tumor. A rare tumor that hasn’t impacted enough lives that researchers devote a lot of time, money and effort into understanding it. Not only that, but sadly, most people die before any data can be collected. Once you get short of breath, dry cough and fatigue it is usually advanced.

PET Scan had some questionable lymph nodes light up, but no other disease was noted distal to the mediastinal cavity.

We hoped it could be removed. Excising the tumor was first choice in the management of this cancer and had the best outcomes, but to do this the surgeon would need to get clean margins. The thoracic surgeon wanted a cardiac MRI to examine if this tumor had invaded any of his great vessels. CT scans had only shown that the tumor was abutting the ascending aorta, but we needed to be certain cause the surgery involved opening his sternum with a saw and recovery would be 5-6 weeks. The surgeon emphasized that he didn’t want to operate and create trauma without being able to get the entire tumor. He didn’t want to delay care in a time-is-of-the-essence scenario.

It was 6pm on a Monday evening just days out from last hospitalization, when I returned to their house to check on him. Earlier that morning, my mom and I took his mini Pomeranian back to the vet and learned it was dying. The vet apologized and said it was time. We put my dad’s 18 y/o Pom, Ben, to sleep at 10:30. My mom held him and he passed. We were a mess. We told my dad and his response seemed flat. Distant.Something else was on his mind.

I stayed close and felt something was amiss, something was unfolding, progressing. I was thinking is he getting an infection? His temp was 100.2, slightly more SOB, and his pulse was 95-110 at rest, on a beta blocker. Nowhere near his norm and I could not ignore this or excuse it. My dad is precious to me. I looked at my mom and dad, apologized as I informed them we needed to go back to the ER. They were agreeable. I think he was relieved I recognized something was wrong.

Shortly after arrival at the satellite ER labs were drawn and ultrasound of his heart was done by ER doc. He said there appeared to be a large fluid collection around my dad’s heart. We were again admitted to ICU for a condition called Cardiac Tamponade. Early the next morning he had the fluid drained 600 ml from around his heart. The fluid build up which is inside the pericardial sac squeezes the heart. The heart can be stunned and go into failure. The fluid that was drawn off was sent for cytology. It was suspicious. It was likely metastatic disease.

In fact after annoying the cardiologist with repeated questions in the hallway, he motioned me over to his computer screen. He showed me the ECHO and pointed out the thickening of the pericardium and showed me a mass dangling from his ventricle. I didn’t need to wait for cytology. This was confirmation for me that we were very far into a disease process. My face flushed, my heart sank, and my stomach dropped as I comprehended the situation. I thanked the MD and my mom asked what he was showing me. I told her. I saw the color leave her face.

The thoracic surgeon was still hoping to remove the mass as the CT didn’t show it had invaded the great vessels, but he did want a Cardiac MRI which was on the back burner. We were still in ICU cause the Cardiac Tamponade and procedure to drain the fluid triggered a lot of Atrial Flutter and Atrial Fibrillation. We waited for the Cardiac MRI for 3 days. There is only one machine and his was repeated twice before they got quality images. The thoracic surgeon finally met with us and after consulting his partners, radiologist, and oncologist, it was decided surgery was just too risky and he wasn’t certain he could get clear margins. He stressed how he didn’t want to create more problems or delay my dad in getting treatment if there were complications. We very much appreciated the thoughtfulness of his answer. We really didn’t have a minute to spare. The surgeon decided to cut a window in my dad’s heart so the cancer did not build up more fluid and compress this vital organ again. The cancer cells would drain into his belly instead of filling the pericardial sack.

We were discharged home in a questionable state: weak. At first we were told he would stay until he was walking well, but the hospital was full and we were off-loaded unexpectedly. Home is a place with stairs. Stairs to to get in and stairs to get out and the most movement he had done in a week was walking 25 ft with a walker and that was exhausting for him. I was concerned about falls. How were me and my mom going to get 170 lb man up 5 steps safely? He was too weak. He hadn’t eaten, he had not slept in 10 days. We were behind the eight ball and chemo had not even started.

Chemo is rough. To survive chemo, one needs some level of fitness, meaning able to perform ADLs independently and move often. We were overwhelmed. The next week was labor intensive and emotionally draining. Here we were home and we were struggling. He still wasn’t eating, still not sleeping, and my radar was on constant alert. I spent my days observing and looking for subtle changes. Oh and there were changes that needed immediate attention as he flipped in and out of rapid atrial fibrillation and got urinary tract infection.

I was scared and my dad was terrified. In times when we were alone, he would ask me: “How did this happen?” He would shake his head as if disappointed in his body. Disbelief. He was unable to comprehend it and he too was terrified.

To be continued...

#thymiccancer #cancer #chemo #raretumor #cancersucks #thymiccarcinoma #thisislife

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living-lucid-dream · 7 years ago

Text

Happy 4/13!

It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything Homestuck-related. What better day to change that than today? What I’m trying to say is: here, have some random snippets from a maybe-sequel to Straw Soldiers.

> Vriska: Distress call

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

AG: Terezi!!!!!!!! AG: Thank fuck you are online 8ecause I am having a serious crisis. AG: I’m talking all hands on deck, all points 8ulletin sort of 8ullshit. AG: Terezi? AG: Come on, will you SAY SOMETHING already? AG: This is an emergency and you are my only chance at keeping everything from going to complete shit. AG: I swear to god I am not exagger8ing when I say that I am fucking dying here!!!!!!!! GC: HUH GC: TH4TS STR4NG3 GC: MY NOS3 DO3S NOT D3T3CT 3V3N TH3 F41NT3ST WH1FF OF D3C4Y1NG FL3SH GC: 1T 1S P1CK1NG UP ON3 H3FTY P1L3 OF M3LODR4M4 THOUGH >:/ AG: OK, OK. So may8e I’m not dying right this second—8ut I will 8e if you don’t do something for me, and I mean pronto. GC: UH-HUH GC: 4ND WH4T 3X4CTLY 1S TH1S 4LL3G3DLY L1F3 S4V1NG M4N3UV3R YOU 3XP3CT M3 TO DO? AG: First, I need you to answer something for me. GC: OK, SHOOT AG: How long have we known each other, exactly? GC: 1 DUNNO GC: F1V3, S1X SW33PS? GC: WHY? AG: Five or six sweeps. Practically our whole lives! AG: I mean, 8y now we’re pretty much o8lig8ed to help each other out in times of dire need and you’ve got to know that I wouldn’t ask for help with anything unless I was really, truly desper8. GC: UGH, TH3 M3LODR4M4 GC: 1T BURNS! AG: Hey, I am 8eing totally serious! AG: Geeeeeeeez, Pyrope. I come here hoping to get a little help from my lifelong 8osom 8uddy and all you can do is give me a 8unch of salty attitude. AG: If that’s the way you’re going to 8e then may8e I won’t 8other to ask you for anything after all. GC: JUST T3LL M3 WH4T YOU W4NT AG: Now that’s the spirit! AG: All right. So the thing I’m going to ask you to do may not sound like much, 8ut 8elieve me it is a very 8ig deal. AG: I need you to talk some sense into Peixes for me. GC: >:? GC: 4BOUT WH4T? AG: Somehow she got it into her pan that it would 8e a good idea to make me go all the fuck 8ack to Alternia and pick up Tav8utt and wonder clown. AG: I’ve tried reasoning with her 8ut she is 8eing a stu88orn 8rat and pulling rank on me. GC: SORRY TO S4Y 1T BUT 1 F41L TO S33 HOW 4NY OF TH4T QU4L1F13S 4S L1F3 4ND D34TH AG: Trust me, it is. GC: HOW SO? AG: 8ecause I will die of 8oredom! AG: Can you even imagine me, stuck on a ship for god knows how long with no8ody 8ut Toreasnore and Gamzee for company? AG: 8oriiiiiiiing! AG: I mean, the two of them don’t have a pair of 8rain cells 8etween them! GC: 1 4M SUR3 YOU W1LL SURV1V3 AG: What? So you’re not going to do anything at all to help me???????? AG: I’ve seen you do some pretty ruthless shit, 8ut releg8ing your good friend to dork squad shuttle service? AG: That’s cold ::::( GC: 1 4M SUR3 1T WONT B3 TH4T B4D GC: B3S1D3S 1 TH1NK 1T W1LL B3 GOOD FOR YOU GC: GR34T FOR BU1LD1NG CH4R4CT3R 4ND 4LL TH4T J4ZZ AG: “8uilding character” my ass. You just want to see me suffer. GC: ME? N3V3R >;] GC: H4V3 4 S4F3 TR1P GC: OH, 4ND DON’T TORM3NT T4VROS TOO MUCH AG: You know I will ::::p

arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

> Future Vriska: Distress call

arachnidsGrip [AG] opened memo EMERGENCY READ NOW!!!!!!!!

arachnidsGrip [AG] invited apocalypseArisen [AA] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited twinArmageddons [TA] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited carcinoGeneticist [CG] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited arsenicCatnip [AC] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited grimAuxiliatrix [GA] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited gallowsCalibrator [GC] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited centaursTesticle [CT] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited caligulasAquarium [CA] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited cuttlefishCuller [CC] to memo

AG: Come on, you useless 8unch of laya8outs! Get your asses in here! AG: Aaauuuuuuuugh! Where is every8ody???????? AG: Is this not getting through to any of you? AG: Fuck it, I can’t tell so I’m doing this regardless. AG: My ship has 8een attacked. AG: There have 8een losses and no, I am not detailing what those losses are right here 8ecause this is humili8ing enough as it is. AG: The long and short of it is: I’m stranded and I have no idea where the hell I am exactly 8ut I do know that I am drifting somewhere 8etween Earth and Alternia. AG: I am pretty sure I can safely classify the situ8ion as “in dire need of a relief shuttle right fucking now.” AG: Hello? AG: Is any8ody getting this???????? AG: Come on, some8ody ANSW8R ME, ALR8DY! AG: G8DDAMN 8T!!!!!!!!

arachnidsGrip [AG] left memo

> John: Pester Dave

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

EB: dave! EB: you there, buddy? TG: yo EB: geez, you’ve been mia for like four days now. Where the heck have you been? TG: shit dude TG: ive been laying lower than a teenage mutant ninja turtle chilling in the new york sewer TG: slinking around like the stealth phantom lovechild of batman and solid snake EB: oh. so the paparazzi are after you too, huh? TG: yeah EB: that sucks. TG: eh TG: for a while i was thinking about mooning them just to see how hard they pissed themselves trying to go all national geographic on my ass TG: then i realized that there was like an eighty billion percent certainty that my ass would just end up getting trotted out on fucking tmz or some shit TG: now national enquirer TG: i would be down with seeing my ass on the front page of such a fine publication TG: but tmz TG: no way TG: daytime tv is not ready for the strider ass TG: so me and aradia gave them the slip and they fell for it harder than bambi on ice TG: havent seen one of those fuckers in almost a week now EB: lucky! they’re all over me and karkat. EB: seriously, it’s like a freaking lightning storm every time i open the front door! EB: it was kind of funny at first but now it’s just…ugh. EB: hey, wait a sec! EB: you said you were with aradia? what are you guys doing? TG: we are going full-on magical mystery tour to find all the weird ass dead things the good old usa has to offer TG: we already hit up the mutter museum TG: it was the shit TG: never saw so many dead things in jars all in one place TG: made my collection look like some messy amateur shit TG: like their stuff is triple black diamond pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye caliber and my stuff barely even qualifies as a bunny slope for toddlers TG: oh and aradia and i pooled our cash and adopted a skull because who doesnt want to say that they are the proud daddy of a newborn 200 hundred year-old skull EB: jesus, sometimes i forget how weird you guys are. TG: hey the strider cool cocktail might not go with everything but at least its never boring TG: anyways im pretty sure we are going to be creeping around your neck of the woods in a couple of weeks TG: we should hang if you and karkat are going to be around EB: cool! EB: we’ll be here. EB: unless karkat’s got one of his pt sessions. EB: but then we’ll be back in like two hours, so yes! we’ll be here. TG: speaking of vantas TG: how is shouty mcqueen doing these days TG: that guys been more elusive than a shiny pokemon since you guys got home EB: he’s fine. EB: he just has a hard time with typing. and tying his shoes. and…lots of things, actually. TG: shit TG: i thought they said his hands were fixed EB: depends on the they you’re talking to, i guess. EB: terezi brought him a new phone, though. EB: it has voice-to-text for english and alternian. EB: jade and sollux made it for him, or at least i think that’s what terezi said when she gave it to him. EB: my alternian still sucks so i’m not sure. EB: anyways we’re about to have breakfast now so i should probably go. TG: ok TG: later ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

> Future John: Pester Dave

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

EB: dave! EB: are you there, buddy? EB: dave, come on. EB: this isn’t funny. EB: you’re really freaking me out here. EB: dave, please. EB: you need to answer me now! EB: jesus christ.

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

> Future Karkat: Contact loving matesprit

carcinoGenticist [CG] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [CG]

CG: OK, YOU’VE HAD YOUR FUN. CG: NOW WIPE THAT SHIT-EATING GRIN OFF YOUR FACE AND STOP THIS BULLFUCKERY RIGHT NOW. CG: I KNOW THIS DISTANCE MATESPRITSHIP THING SUCKS HARDER THAN THE MOTHER GRUB’S SLURRY ACCEPTING ORIFICE. CG: BUT IF THIS ISN’T WORKING FOR YOU THEN YOU NEED TO TELL ME INSTEAD OF, YOU KNOW, IGNORING ME FOR TWO WEEKS. CG: JESUS FUCK, TEREZI. CG: I’D EXPECT THAT SORT OF SHIT-RINSING PISSBABY WAY OF HANDLING THINGS FROM PAST ME BECAUSE PAST ME IS A PAIL-SWILLING FUCKWIT WITH THE FANTASTIC ABILITY TO MAGICALLY LOSE HIS GLOBES WHEN SHIT GETS REAL. CG: BUT NOT FROM YOU. CG: I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF YOU OR SOLLUX ARE ALIVE BECAUSE GUESS WHAT? CG: NEITHER ONE OF YOU HAVE DEIGNED TO SEND ME SO MUCH AS A “HI, KARKAT JUST POPPING A SQUAT TO SHIT OUT THIS TURD OF A MESSAGE SO YOU CAN STOP WORRYING THAT WE BOTH DID SOMETHING PAN-NUMBINGLY STUPID LIKE DROWN IN THE LOAD GAPER; TALK TO YOU LATER YOU FART-BRAINED IGNORAMUS.” CG: THERE. CG: SEE? CG: WAS THAT SO HARD? CG: HELPFUL HINT: EVEN THE FART-BRAINED IGNORAMUS WITHOUT FUNCTIONING OPPOSABLE THUMBS MANAGED IT IN A SPHINCTER-RANKLING 60 SECONDS. CG: I GET THAT YOU AND SOLLUX ARE BUSY ON FEFERI’S FREE THE HELMSMEN CRUSADE AND YEAH, IT’S KIND OF A BIG FUCKING DEAL. CG: AND I GET THAT COMPLAINING ABOUT IT MAKES ME LOOK LIKE A SELFISH, BULGE-FLAPPING ASSHOLE. CG: BUT BEING THE PARANOID FUCKTARD WHO SEES SUPER EXCITING TORTURE FUNTIMES WITH CONDESCE AND FRIENDS ON INFINITE REPEAT EVERY FUCKING TIME I CLOSE MY EYES, I’M STARTING TO GET THIS NUB-TICKLING IDEA THAT SOMETHING MIGHT BE WRONG. CG: I KNOW IT’S STUPID AND I’M PROBABLY STOMPING INTO PALE TERRITORY WITH A PAIR OF STEEL TOE COMBAT BOOTS WITH “FUCK YOU CAPTOR” EMBLAZONED ON THE TREADS BY SAYING IT, BUT THERE IT IS. CG: THE STINKING SHIT PELLET OF TRUTH HAS DROPPED AND IT CANNOT RETURN TO THE WASTE CHUTE FROM WHENCE IT WAS PINCHED. CG: TEREZI, PLEASE. CG: JUST TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

CarcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

> to be continued...(?)

#Homestuck #4/13 #Straw Soldiers #Homestuck fanfiction #Vriska #Terezi #John Egbert #Dave Strider #Karkat #Wow pesterlog formatting looks terrible on tumblr #it may not be 4/13 anymore for most of you out there #but there's still one hour left in my neck of the woods #so this still counts!#my stuff #my fic

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