#hate talkin about it because i never post anything and no one give a shit about some old unfinished fan fiction but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vasiktomis · 3 years ago

Text

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

43 notes · View notes

olligreen · 4 years ago

Text

No Bad Student | 6 -- You're Alright, LaRusso

{x}

Pairing: Lawrusso (Daniel x Johnny) Genre: Angst Warnings: None Word count: 2287 Summary: KK2 AU in which Johnny ends up living with Miyagi and Daniel for the summer. Inspired by nadianecromancer’s comic, but I’ll try to avoid making any scenes similar to the ones they already did! Notes: This was originally posted on Ao3 here.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (coming soon)

They both shared a sigh of relief, though Daniel’s was perhaps more desperate. Silence filled the room again and both were just as unwilling to venture a glance toward the other. The pause seemed endless. It was like they’d be stuck in this awkward limbo for the rest of their lives. Then, as if things couldn’t get worse, Johnny started laughing. At first a little stifled chuckle, then, as the bedframe came down gently on its new legs, it turned to an all-out fit.

The sound brought up sharp, sudden rage in Daniel, who looked on with a scowl. “What?! What’s so funny, huh?”

“I--... Sorry, I just--...” He stifled the last remaining mirth, catching his breath. “That was just so fucking weird, man.”

“What was weird about it?” Daniel said before he thought.

“Are you kidding me? That was weird as fuck. Like… I never thought I’d be that close to you without like… kicking your ass right after.”

“Right, like you could.” Daniel got away with the first word-vomit, but, from the way the mood shifted in that instant, he was sure he wouldn’t get away with this one.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, LaRusso?”

He decided to think a bit before he spoke this time. “Look, man, I just--”

“Don’t go backpedaling now, man. You think you could take me in a real fight, you’re dead wrong.” And just as quickly as they separated, Johnny stepped within a foot of Daniel, glaring down at him with deadly ire.

They weren't quite as close, but Daniel’s restless heart couldn’t tell the difference. He kept his gaze downward, avoiding Johnny; though, despite his efforts, Johnny's imposing figure took up much of his vision.

“You think you’re hot shit now that you won one fight? Nah, man. Just cause you have Ali doesn’t mean you can--”

“I don’t ‘have’ Ali.” He interrupted, some new rage burning in his words.

Johnny’s intimidation blunted, sending him back a few steps. “What?”

“We broke up a month ago.” His words were pointed but his expression was blank, as it was before. It was like he was confusing him on purpose.

“What’d you do?” Johnny responded without time for thought.

Daniel looked up with a scowl. “What the hell do you mean, ‘what did I do?’ Why’s it gotta be my fault?” Anger was a fine emotion to show him, apparently.

“‘Cause I know Ali, asshole. Now, what’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! She ran off with some football player from UCLA!”

There it was again, that laugh of his, like a cup of gasoline on an open flame.

“What?! What could possibly be funny about that!?”

Johnny replied firstly with a cruel grin, though there was something off about it. “Now you know what it’s like.” He said, softer than he should have.

Daniel turned away, his face flushing. “No! No, that’s not the same thing.”

“Oh yeah? How is it any different?”

“You hadn’t talked to her for weeks, man! You were done!”

“Two weeks.”

“She wanted nothing to do with--... What’d you say?”

Johnny’s words were spoken underneath Daniel’s -- quiet, solemn, same as before. “We were split up for two weeks, then you showed up.”

Daniel stopped at once, brown eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Y’know how long we were together?” He smirked, reveling in Daniel’s pain, but in his eyes, it was clear he wasn’t the only one hurting. “Two years.”

He was still too close. Anywhere in the room was too close. He stepped back, but couldn’t escape the horrible feeling bubbling up in his chest. He searched desperately for something he could throw back in his face, but how do you even respond to that? Eventually, he settled on the least volatile. “Oh,” he breathed out, eyes trained on the ground.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’” Johnny wandered over to take another defeated seat on his bedroll, though it felt more like a pyrrhic victory than a pure loss.

“Well, but--... But that doesn’t--”

“It doesn’t excuse what I did, I know.” He mumbled, absentmindedly twisting the cloth between his fingers. “But don’t you wanna go find that UCLA douche and kick the shit out of him?”

Daniel breathed a quiet laugh before he could stop it, erasing his smile as soon as he could manage. “Well, sure, but I’m not gonna. That’s not what Miyagi taught me.” He sat across from Johnny, legs crossed on the wooden floor.

Johnny’s eyes moved to the door momentarily. “What’d he teach you?”

“Karate’s for defense only.”

“Well, there ya go. I wasn’t taught that pussy shit.”

“It’s not ‘pussy shit,’ it’s real karate. Not like that garbage Kreese was teaching you.” Just as the words left his mouth, he thought back to the first time he brought up this same topic. He braced for impact.

But the impact never came. Johnny just sat on that bedroll, staring at the floorboards, solemn and silent.

Something about that hit Daniel harder than an angry outburst ever could. There was that image of him -- sitting on the curb, broken glass sparkling on the ground around him. It matched up perfectly. It wouldn’t leave his mind. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, just loud enough to break the silence.

Johnny’s eyes met his, puzzled. “For what?”

“I saw what happened with your sensei, I shouldn’t have mentioned him,” Daniel explained.

But the confusion didn’t cease. “Why do you care?” The words were spat out but were meant genuinely.

“Well ‘cause--...” Daniel started, then took a moment to consider his words carefully. “Mr. Miyagi says there’s no such thing as a bad student, just a bad teacher, right? So--... So I mean, you gettin’ all aggressive and acting like an--... Well, acting the way you did, that’s on him for how he taught you. Y’know what I mean?”

Johnny’s stare was unending as he tried to pick his words apart, his expression hopeful, then fearful, then ultimately clouded by rage. “And what about what you did, huh?”

“What? What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, not leaving well-enough alone? I was gonna call my guys off before you pulled that shit at the Halloween party."

“Oh, come on, Johnny, you and your stupid biker gang were kicking my ass every other day. You weren’t gonna stop. What am I gonna do, just sit and take it?”

“Well yeah, maybe! I mean, you were asking for it. If you would’ve just left Ali alone--”

“What, and nobody’s supposed to date her ever again?”

“Two weeks, man!”

“Yeah, and you had to be the one to tell me that!”

“Did you even ask?”

“Of course I asked! She said ‘weeks,’ that’s it. If she had any intention of getting back together with you, she would’ve said so, Johnny, but she didn’t. She said ‘weeks.’”

The tension in the air only heightened as Johnny considered his words. His lip curled up in disgust, but his glare faltered, and he was left staring at the floorboards again.

“I tried, man. I tried to just talk to you. I tried to tell you that guy was bad news, but you wouldn’t have any of it.”

“You don’t understand, man. You don’t get how much you took from me.” Johnny growled, desperate to shut him up.

“Goddammit, Johnny, I didn’t take anything from you! You lost!” Daniel half-screamed, the energy of the phrase lifting him from his seat.

Johnny followed. “I lost one fight and now, what, I deserve to be miserable? Maybe you’re a lot more like my sensei than you think you are.”

“I’m not talking about the fight, Johnny, for fuck’s sake, can you consider something other than fighting for once?”

“And what else am I supposed to consider, huh?”

“You lost Ali! You did! I didn’t ‘steal’ her from you, she stopped talking to you because you stopped being a person she wanted to talk to.”

“You got no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“What, you think her snobby Encino friends ever stopped talking about how ‘great of a boyfriend’ you were? Do you know how many times I had to hear your name after that tournament was over? I probably know more about that breakup than you do!”

“Fuck you, man.”

“Fantastic argument there, Johnny, good one.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?! That I’m sorry?!”

“That’d be a start!”

“Well then, I’m sorry, alright?! God, of course I’m sorry! You think I feel good about beating the shit out of a person half my size? About lying to my mom about why my clothes were covered in your blood? You think I don’t hate myself just as much as you do?”

The room deafened. The adrenaline in each rival’s mind dissipated, giving way to fear, regret, and sadness. Then, as Daniel’s breaths became heavy, he noticed a glint in Johnny’s eyes that brought him both serenity and pain.

“I just--... I saw you with her. I saw how happy you were and--... and how happy you made her. And--…” His eyes widened to keep in the tears, focused forward, but still, they fell. “And I just thought… ‘I need to make him feel pain...’ God, that sounds awful when I say it out loud like that.”

His words still frightened Daniel, but not enough to prevent him from taking a few steps closer.

“What if--… LaRusso, what if your Sensei was wrong?” The rage was long dead. His eyes were wide, desperate, terrified. There was no less fear hidden in his icy blue gaze than there was in Daniel’s not a few hours before.

“About what?” Daniel said cautiously.

“What if it’s not Cobra Kai? What if it’s just me? What if I’m just a bad person? I mean, what if there’s something wrong with me?”

Daniel shook his head immediately, refusing such a thing without a second thought. Was it that he didn’t think Miyagi could be wrong, or that he saw hope in Johnny’s fearful expression? Maybe it was both. Or maybe it was that feeling, the one he couldn’t explain, pushing his breaths out faster, pulling his arm out to touch Johnny’s shoulder.

He looked at the hand, fear fading to confusion. “I--...” He started, but his mouth fell closed.

“It’s alright, Johnny,” Daniel said softly, then pulled him into a hug.

The warmth shocked him. It took a few seconds before his body relaxed, then his arms climbed across Daniel’s back, holding him the same way he was held.

“You’re not a bad person. Miyagi can help you, alright?” Daniel’s voice was muffled into Johnny’s chest.

“I’m--... I’m sorry.” Johnny repeated.

Finally, Daniel pulled away, keeping that same hand rested on his shoulder, maintaining all the warmth and comfort he could provide in a smile. “I got that part.”

Johnny laughed through his tears, a welcome sound, now.

“Now, you’re not planning on kicking my ass while I’m sleepin’, are ya?” Daniel said as his hand dropped, warm smile falling to a grin.

The grin was matched. “Depends,” he started, his voice still strained, “are you as much of a cocky little shit asleep as you are awake?”

Daniel laughed, audibly. Imagine that. Daniel LaRusso and Johnny Lawrence, smiling and laughing at the same time for once.

“I’m not gonna fuck with you anymore, man. I shouldn’t even be here. I won’t push my luck like that.”

“Why do you need to stay here tonight anyway?”

Johnny’s shoulders tightened, his fatigued smile falling, but not gone. “Got kicked out.” He regained his seat on the bedroll.

“Why? You do something?” Not a moment passed before Daniel plopped himself down in front of Johnny, leaning his back against the bedframe.

“Nah, my stepdad just wanted to get rid of me.” He said casually as if it were a joke. “Now you gotta deal with me instead.”

“So it’s not just gonna be tonight, huh?”

His smile dropped.

“Oh! Well, it’s not--... I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I get it. I’ll try to keep it as quick as possible.”

“Johnny, no, really, it’s fine. I’m not gonna--”

“Dude, you fucking hate me. I understand. You don’t need to pretend not to just ‘cause I cried like a bitch in front of you.”

“I’m not pretending. I really think Mr. Miyagi can help you.”

Slowly, that smirk of his returned. “You’re alright, LaRusso.”

Fear washed over Daniel for just a moment but was gone as soon as it came. He gave a warm smile back to him. “You said that before.”

“Oh yeah.” Johnny looked off, recollecting. “It was a fun fight, I’ll give you that.”

He hummed a laugh. “Glad to hear my terrified flailing was entertaining to you.”

“Nah man, that wasn’t flailing. You’re a good fighter.” Johnny fell back on the bedroll, blonde hair puffing up as he did. “Not as good as me, but pretty good.”

“Oho! Somebody need a reminder of who won that fight?” Daniel grinned.

Johnny chuckled lowly, his eyes fluttering closed. “Nah, man, I wasn’t prepared for your shit then. Rematch.”

“Oh, what, you think that’ll change anything?”

“Mhm.”

Daniel let a quiet laugh fill the lapse in conversation, then stood and began to pace. It was getting dark out, the last red-orange glow of the sun the only light in the room. It felt strange. It was like he was in a liminal space, or a dream: quiet, calm, but somewhat offputting. Still, a determination filled his spirit that wasn’t present before, at least not with a source like this. Finally, he decided. “Y’know what, you’re on.”

But by the time the challenge was accepted Johnny was taken by the coming night, curled up on the bedroll, silent and serene.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (coming soon)

#karate kid fanfiction #cobra kai fanfic #lawrusso fanfiction #lawrusso #karate kid part ii #karate kid au

25 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

Tipsy Confessions (Darrell “Shifty” Powers x f!Reader)

So based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic because I love it!

Warnings: None...just Shifty cuteness.

Words:3200

Tag list: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m

He looked down the barrel of his M1 Garand rifle, lining up the sight with the target at the end of the shooting range. The noise of his fellow paratroopers drifted away to blessed silence. There was something for him when lining up his shot, everything else seemed to fade away. The world narrowed down to himself, his rifle and the target. The faint breeze kissed his cheek and made the ends of his hair sway. Shifting the rifle just slightly, he accommodated for the wind. Finally, he was ready. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, hold, squeeze…

Bang!

"Nice shot, Shifty."

Darrell "Shifty" Powers looked up at the target, an almost perfect bullseye, just a little to the left, then over to his friend standing nearby. "Thanks, Popeye."

"Can we head back now?" Floyd Talbert asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Why? You gotta brush your hair or somethin'?" Popeye Wynn teased.

"That's why I get all the dames at the dances and you don't."

"Come on, lectures will start soon." Smoky Gordon stated good-naturedly, then he pointed at Talbert. "And you owe me a pack of smokes. Told you Shifty could hit the target."

"You said bullseye, not just hit the target."

"Well, he did it."

Talbert grumbled but dug the pack out of his pocket and tossed it to a smirking Gordon.

Bang!

Shifty looked over his shoulder in the direction of the gunshot. He thought they were the only ones there. This was his favorite time to practice since everyone else was either at the mess hall or relaxing in their barracks. Usually he came alone but today Popeye decided to keep him company and then from there Gordon joined them, dragging Talbert along.

To his surprise, he saw you a few lanes over, laying on your belly, rifle set in front of you with your finger still on the trigger. The ODs they gave you were just a one or two sizes too big, thus your sleeves and pant legs were rolled up a few times. Somehow you still pulled the look off well. Instead of looking like a child playing dress up in too large clothes, you looked…. well…. good.

Talbert gave a low whistle. "She's a good shot, I'll give her that."

"Even if she arrived with Hitler's head in a sack, Sobel would still hate her." Gordon stated, watching you closely.

"And Guarnere."

Another shot rang out and Shifty would easily admit...he was impressed. Not because you were a dame and knew how to shoot a gun. His mother would string him up sideways for thinking something like that. No, the distance you were shooting at...most of the soldiers did not even try it. Only himself and a few others shot that far with any accuracy.

And you were dead on.

Finally you stood up, slinging the rifle over your shoulder when you noticed the four men staring at you. He could see the hesitation in your usually guarded expression. You had only joined Easy Company once they arrived in Camp Mackall. Sink thought your connections and resources in Europe would prove invaluable to the paratroopers. Unfortunately, by that point, most of the men had bonded and were not looking to add an outsider...especially a woman. Even worse, you spent most of your time with Intelligence so the men could never get a good read on you.

"Hey, doll," Talbert called, a flirtatious smirk lighting up his face, "you going to be a sniper for Easy?"

You moved a little closer, head held high and shoulders back. “If the need arises...and that's Lieutenant to you, not doll."

"Yes, ma'am."

Your gaze moved his way, eyes assessing with just a look that seemed to see more than they let on. "Are you Private Powers?"

"Ah, everyone calls me Shifty, ma'am."

"You're an excellent shot. If you have the time, I'd appreciate some pointers from you. I'm better with a pistol."

He could feel the blush rising on his cheeks. "It's not a problem, ma'am. I'm… I'm not sure how I can help though. You're an excellent shot yourself."

Your lips turned upward at the corners but you just shrugged. "Thank you, but there's always room to improve."

"How good are you with a pistol?" Talbert asked, gaze skimming over you. "Think you can hit that target?"

The target he pointed at was only about five yards away, any paratrooper was expected to hit at that distance. It was almost an insult to think you could not.

And the look on your face after he asked...you definitely took it as an insult.

Without removing your eyes from Talbert's grinning face, you pulled the pistol off your hip, pointed at the target and unloaded it.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

"Have a good day, boys. Shifty, I hope we can talk soon." You stated, switching from staring down Talbert to a small smile at Shifty. Then you stomped away, reholstering the pistol, rifle still slung over your shoulder.

Shifty's gaze moved to the target and froze. All six shots were in the center of the bullseye...which you had shot at without looking.

"Tab, you better not piss her off. She don't even have to look at you to kill you." Popeye japed.

Shifty's eyes darted back to your retreating form in awe. He had never met a woman like you before. And damn, if watching you shoot did not do something to him.

"Oh, now that's a knockout." He softly said, unable to tear his eyes from you. Never mind him giving you pointers, he wondered what you could teach him!

"Yeah, yeah. She can shoot." Tab muttered, turning to head back into camp.

"You're just mad she showed more interest in Shifty than you." Gordon joked then screeched when Talbert hit him upside his head.

Shifty ignored their taunts as the group walked back towards their barracks. He found you beautiful, any man with eyes could see you were attractive. But watching you shoot, that focused look on your face and the confidence you held...that was going to be a problem for him, he could already tell.

Especially with the way he kept having to readjust his pants so the others would not notice the effect you had on him.

*****

"You're starin' again."

"Mmm?" Shifty blinked, it took a long minute for his friend's words to sink into his brain. When they finally resonated, he practically jumped in his seat, face turning red. "What? No, no, I'm not."

"You're starin' at her like Perconte when he sees garlic bread." Popeye stated, clearly amused if the shit-eating grin said anything.

"What?" Perconte yelled further down the table.

"Nothin', Frank! Wasn't talkin' to you!"

An argument broke out with Perconte demanding to know why Popeye said his name. Shifty only half listened, his gaze drifting back to you across the mess hall. You were facing away from him, talking with some of Easy's officers.

It had been several weeks since the encounter at the shooting range. Since then whenever you were around, he became a bumbling mess. He stumbled over his words, a blush continuously heated his face, a couple times he tripped when you would casually touch his shoulder or arm. Yet the whole time you were kind and patient with him, ignoring his awkwardness. Or at least he hoped so. A few times the two of you would find the other at the range and shoot together, giving one another pointers or creating silly competitions. It was during this that he realized he was falling for you.

Hard.

Like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute and feeling gravity control one's descent as if that person was just along for the ride.

It did not take long for the others to notice how his gaze was always on you when you were nearby. How his brain ceased to function properly as if you were all he could focus on. How he would go out of his way to try and say hi to you every day. The dopey smile on his face when you smiled or laughed, even if you were across the room.

And thus, the teasing began.

One of the more embarrassing moments was when Sobel was leading a strategy practice in the woods, quickly getting everyone killed from his impatience. Shifty, you and two others were forced to be left behind as wounded while everyone else tramped back to the rendezvous point. During those hours of laying in the grass, you and him, lying next to each other, began a quiet, running dialogue telling stories from your lives. Who taught you to shoot, what you were doing before the war, favorite foods, ect.

Once the four of you were relieved and allowed to return to the rendezvous point, you broke away to return to your separate barracks to clean up. When Shifty returned to 3rd Platoon, they immediately teased him about his rumpled clothing, the grass in his hair and if he remembered to wear a condom when you two….

He still blushed thinking about some of the graphic things they said.

Not that his mind had not enjoyed picking up those images and replaying them in his dreams.

*****

He was drunk.

Or at least tipsy.

A part of him knew going out was a bad idea. He never drank. Just did not like the taste of beer. It always sat like lead in his gut. But at the moment, he did not care.

Easy celebrated the fact that they were moving on from Camp Mackall soon. One step closer to be official paratroopers. One step closer to war. Drinks were flowing, some even found local women to dance with in the bar. Glenn Miller crooned over the radio. Sobel was gone on a forced weekend pass. Everyone was in high spirits.

Shifty sat at a table with a few others from Easy, listening to Luz tell some story...and he kept giggling.

Giggling!

Popeye was giving him an amused side-eye as he sipped his own beer. They all knew Shifty did not drink. Sure, he got teased about it but most respected it. For a very specific reason tonight when someone offered him a beer, he took it. And then another. And another.

He felt sort of floaty as he sat there. Everything was funny. His head was spinning slightly but it did not ache. That was good, right? He could still see straight...mostly. He was beginning to see why the others drank often.

When he looked around the bar, he finally spotted what had made him start drinking. You reclined at a table talking to Lt Winters and Lt Nixon, which was unsurprising. What was different was the dress you wore. It molded to you in sinful ways and dear God! he almost swallowed his tongue when you walked into the bar. Between that dress, the red lipstick and victory rolls in your hair, he swore even sunrises were jealous of your beauty. Others definitely noticed, a few buying you drinks but you refused to dance with anyone. A comradery had finally developed between you and the men of Easy, most accepted your presence and the intelligence you provided. Plus, your marksmanship added points and willingness to take the brunt of Sobel's verbal abuse.

You laughed at something Nixon said, head tipped back and a hand on your chest. A sappy smile grew on Shifty's face as he watched your joy radiate. He loved seeing you smile and laugh. Even if he was not the cause of it, he liked you being happy. You had the ability to make even the gloomiest day seem like the peak of summer sunshine.

Excusing yourself from the table, you started towards the outside door. With a bright smile, you redirected slightly and stopped at his table before passing it.

"You boys having a good time?"

A chorus of "yeahs" answered from those around.

"So, when are you going to admit you're in love with me?" Talbert asked, cigarette between his lips. Over the past weeks, he shamelessly flirted with you, even more than Luz but everyone knew it was done jokingly and when superior officers were not around.

"Mmm...the same time Sobel admits he has a hidden stash of pornography in his footlocker."

Malarkey's chair dropped back down onto its four legs as he gaped at you. "And how in the hell would you know that?"

You just winked. "Well, I'm off. Have a good evening, boys."

As you stepped away, Shifty found himself stumbling to his feet to catch up. "Y/n, ma'am."

You stopped, turning to watch him as he approached your side. There was no plan, no rationale in his following you. It was almost instinctual. He wanted to be near you...to hear you laugh again...be graced with one of your brilliant smiles. Now though, as you stood in front of him, waiting for him to speak, his brain sluggishly tried to come up with a reason for him to be near you.

"I'll walk you back if you like. It’s...you...you shouldn't walk 'round alone none." His words tumbled out, somewhat coherently in his rush so he was not just awkwardly staring at you.

You smiled, your face lighting up. "Thanks, Shifty."

A giggle escaped him and he practically felt his heart splatter on the floor at your feet. You were so beautiful and looking at you made him feel warm inside. Or was that the alcohol?

A few wolf whistles follow you both out but he did not pay attention. He floated walking next to you...or felt like he did. He was unsure. His boots caught on a rock and he stumbled faintly but tried to play it off. For some reason the ground swayed just enough under his feet. It reminded him of the floating dock in the next town over from his home, how it was stable yet unsteady. The stars were really pretty tonight. Not as pretty as you. Oops...he stumbled again and a giggle slipped out.

"Are you well?"

"Ah?" He looked over at you, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes scanning him as if for an injury. "Yes, yes." He giggled out. Why would he be injured? No more Currahee!

And then he tripped, almost landing on his face if you had not caught his arm.

"Stop. Stop. Look at me." You moved to stand in front of him, placing your hands on his chest to hold him still.

Your touch sent an electric current through him. It sharpened the warmth of your hands on his chest, how good they felt there. How your breath ghosted over his face as you peered at him. How close your bodies were. No one could ever compare to you. His feelings, his affections, bubbled up inside of him like a champagne bottle after being shaken, threatening to explode.

But he could not say anything. No! It would be wrong. So wrong. Not right. You were a superior officer...and... just incredible.

"Shifty, are you-"

"I like you. " He suddenly blurted out. The cork of the champagne bottle finally popping off.

You tipped your head to the side, watching him. Your hands still on his chest, still so close to him. Your eyes seemed to draw him in and he did not have the strength to escape their current, pulling secrets and truths from him.

Before he could stop it, his mouth disconnected from his brain and went on autopilot. Secrets and thoughts spilled out he had never told anyone. "I think youse beautiful and strong and an amazin' shot...and... I like you but not like...I like Popeye or Gordon or Lipton, no. I like-like you... like I want to kiss you and hear you laugh. But I can't tell you cos youse an officer and you would just laugh at me. I love watchin' you shoot. Rogers says you have a great ass but that don't matter to me cos, well truth is, I think I--"

You slapped a hand over his mouth, clogging the outpouring of words. "Are you drunk?"

He shook his head then changed his mind and nodded. Christ, he hoped he was drunk. Maybe you would ignore his ramblings then. Oh, what had he done? What happened? If he suddenly sprinted away, could he somehow hide from you for the rest of the war and he could pretend this never happened?

"Right. Here's what we are going to do." You tapped his chest with your pointer finger, drawing his attention back to you and ceasing his inner panic. "I am going to walk you to your barracks so you can sleep this off. After everything you just said, if you still feel this way in the morning, I want you to tell me all this when you are sober. Since I like-like you too. If not, then you owe me breakfast in exchange for my silence, jerk, and we'll never speak of this again." You smiled, other hand still on his mouth. "Nod if you agree."

He did not think he ever agreed to anything so quickly in his entire life.

"Good, let's get you back now." You pulled your hand away from his mouth and slipped it around his arm. Together you two walked, arm in arm, towards his barracks.

Shifty still felt like he was floating on air. For more than one reason.

*****

A few hours later, just as the sun was rising, he stood outside the barrack you were staying at. Practically bouncing on his toes, he knocked on the wooden door. Thankfully you stayed there alone since there were no other female paratroopers. You opened the door wearing an oversized shirt and gym shorts, hair amess and a sleepy smile on your face.

"I still think you are the most beautiful woman and I like-like you a lot." He exclaimed without preamble...and then paused. "And I'm sober."

"I like you too, Shifty."

A stupid grin spread across his face, cheeks warming up but he did not mind for once. "Can... can I... hug you, ma'am?"

You laughed lightly before grabbing the front of his ODs and yanking him inside, slamming the door behind him. Before he could utter a word, you pushed him against the closed door and slammed your lips against his, your hands gripping his ODs tightly.

Oh.

Oh!

This was much better than a hug.

Cupping your face, he returned the kiss fervently. He sank into your mouth, loving the feel of you pressed against him, how everything seemed to fade away and your touch and taste were all that mattered. You deepened the kiss, your tongue slipping into his mouth. If you did not have him pinned to the door, his knees would have given out. His hands slipped to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. Your tongues fought for dominance, which he would gladly let you win if only you did not stop. But it was when you whispered his name against his mouth that he almost came undone right there.

Finally you broke apart, desperate for air. Both of your chests heaving like you had been sprinting up Currahee. Staring into your face, your pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen; he decided he liked this even more than watching you shoot. Then he dove back into your mouth with unbridled passion, wanting to test how good your accuracy was in other ways.

Yes, this was much better than a hug.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #ww2 #world war 2 #shifty powers #shifty powers x reader #darrell powers #mzwrites

141 notes · View notes

gldie · 3 years ago

Photo

✰ ⊰ GOLDIE: ❛ 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐏.

A year after her departure from KPWR-FM, 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄 has scored a career as being a television host for BET. In this interview, 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 took the time to drive right on down to Westchester to ask her all the questions that people want to know about her rise to fame and how she’s juggling it along with motherhood and her love-life.

━━ ❛ 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃. ╱

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Goldie mfn’ Forde! How are you doin’ on this beautiful afternoon? Your house looks great, by the way. I love it! Thank you so much for havin’ me.

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: Holli Hoooood! I’m doin’ great, actually. Just tryna’ get used to being on the opposite end of an interview. But, no. Thank you for takin’ the interest in interviewing lil’ ol’ me. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Well, we gotta interview the hottest women in the game right now and your talk show THE GOLDEN HOUR has been killing it as of lately. You should be proud! You workin’ your ass off and still make time to be a mother. I must say your little boy is the cutest. [ The woman gestures at the little boy who is sleeping on her mother’s lap. ]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: Aw, gosh. [ She blushes with a wide smile on her face and she glances down at him, running her hand along the baby’s back. ] I don’t know what else to say but thank you. All these compliments makin’ me blush! [ She laughs softly before looking back at the interviewer. ] Workin’ my ass off is in my blood, though. I gotta from my momma. She don’t play that lazy sh*t. Doesn’t he look just like his momma, though? I need that on the record just in case someone tries to say that he looks like his daddy. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: He sure does, y’all look like twins. Woulda’ swore that you had that baby on your own, honestly. [ The interviewer chuckles before placing her hand on the notepad she held. ] But how are you liking motherhood? Is it a hard transition?

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: [ The smile on her face doesn’t fade doesn’t fade until she hears the last question that she asks. Sighing softly, she looks up at the sky as she tries to find the words to answer. ] In the beginning it was actually. I struggled a lot trying to get use to being a mother and not letting it consume who I am. Like of course, I’m a mother before everything, but I’m also a sister, friend, business woman, you know stuff outside of that. [ Looking back at the interviewer, she continues with a soft smile on her face. ] I also kinda’ struggled to connect with my child. I felt like I wasn’t going to be the best mother to him, I felt lonely, the whole nine. But now, we’re good. He’s my whole heart. Who I do it for, my everything. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: That’s beautiful, Goldie. I know a lot of women struggle with Post-partum depression after having their first child. I know it must be hard trying to balance your career-life and being a mother but you make it look easy.

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: Whew, girl when I tell you it takes a village and that’s the only reason it looks so damn easy. [ A laugh emits from her lips before she feels her child shift in her lap. Mouthing the words oops, she picks him up in her arms before looking over her shoulder for her mother. ] Mommmyyyy, can you get your grand-baby? [ She speaks softly so that she won’t disturb him before pecking his cheek repeatedly. Once her mother walks over and takes him, she turns around to finish the question. ] Without that woman, wouldn’t be no Goldie on television. My mother and father, his father along with his side family help me out so much. He’s on set with me sometimes, but most of the time I want him to be somewhere quiet and not too rowdy. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Wow! You seem to have the ideal support group. Why happened to you and ZION’s father?

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: [ A dry chuckle left the woman’s lips as she stared at the interviewer’s visage, swallowing the lump in her throat before she shifted in her seat some. ] Uh, lack of communication and failure to reason with one another. Yup. [ She finished with a soft head nod. ] But co-parenting is great. You know, our focus is completely on our son and what’s best for him. Next question, please. ❜

━━ ❛ 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒. ╱

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Alright, Goldie. What achievements from last year are you most proud of?

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: My greatest achievement is Zion Israel Powers. I mean, with all the struggles that I experienced with pregnancy, I couldn’t be more grateful that God granted me the opportunity to be his mommy. [ She couldn’t help but to beam when she spoke about her child. ] The second great achievement of last year was putting myself first and leaving a job that didn’t serve my purpose. I will always be grateful to KPWR, but leaving a job that stifled my creativity was the best decision that I ever made. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: I know that’s right, Goldie! We leaving everything that doesn’t serve us in 2020, okay!? [ She laughed with a point before moving on to the next question. ] And what about the achievements of this year?

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: And neva’ eva wrong. [ She laughed back while pointing back at the woman with her index finger. ] Uh.. I’m proud of the fact that I overcame a dark time in my life and I found a new part of myself that I never really got the chance to know. I’m happy with... uh... I’m happy with my life. Yeah. I’m making the kind of money that I want. I achieved two of my biggest dreams, I’m more secure in my body and I’m happy. Yeah. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: We love seeing black women happy, sis. I know a lot of people have been trying to steal your shine and happiness in the blogs. Do you have anything to say to the former talk show host that you replaced? She’s been in the media outlets throwing shade and subliminals a lot.

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: [ A short chuckle leaves the woman’s lips before she scratches her nose with her acrylic nail, pursing her lips up slightly. ] Mm... Not really, if it’s not direct, it doesn’t get acknowledged by me. I truly wish her the best in her future endeavors, though. I know it’s hard seeing someone else win while you struggle. I been there myself, but hating on the next woman isn’t going to change anything so.. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Well said. Very professional! I’m over here tryna’ be miss messy boots and you curvin’ it. You sure you haven’t had any media training? [ She snickers before moving onto the last question of this segment. ] Okay, lastly, what goals do you have for next year?

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: None whatsoever. I’m just good like that. [ The woman speaks with a small smile before tilting her head to the side while she listens to the question asked. ] Goals for next year? To keep growing my brand, girl. Hopefully create my own app, merch, go on a talk show tour, maybe write a book? Who knows! I’m most definitely putting my momma and daddy in a new house, though. I know that. [ She said with a nod before clasping her hands together and shrugging. ] I’m letting life take me on this journey and I’m just ridin’ the wave. I pray it takes me in the right direction. ❜

━━ ❛ 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄. ╱

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Now this house, what made you choose a house like this? Especially in a neighborhood that you’re not used to.

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: It was definitely a change from my apartment in Crenshaw. I’m still in Inglewood but I’m not on the same block that I’m used to be on. I’m not doing hair out of my apartment to make some extra money. You know, I’m in the rich neighborhood and sometimes, you know I feel left out. But when I saw this house, I knew it was the one for me despite the neighborhood change. I needed a space that could accommodate me and all my needs along with my family. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Can we get a tour? I mean, a house this beautiful needs to be viewed by the people and I’m sure your fans would like to see how you livin’. Don’t you think?

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: This isn’t my dream house, but it’s definitely an impressive STARTER HOME, ya’ know? It’s very spacious for family events and my family like to link all the damn time, so. I like it a lot. It’ll hold me over until further notice. I got everything baby proofed because I just know this lil’ boy gon’ be something else when he starts getting more a handle on this crawling thing. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: The entire house is flawless, but let’s get into this STACKED WARDROBE. You take this fashion sh*t serious, don’t ya’? Let me borrow some of these clothes. Or at least show me how you do it, chile.

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: I really don’t know what I’m doing with this fashion shit, I just know what looks good on me. Which is damn near everything. [ The woman speaks cockily, letting a laugh follow soon after before she looked over her closet. ] But I think I take a lot of my looks from old models and vixens of the 90s and 00s. Lately, I’ve been getting a lot of brands and clothing lines reaching out trying to get me to wear something from their lines. So, I’m excited about that. [ She says in a sing-song tone before doing a little dance. ] If you ever want me to give you some pointers, be sure to watch my show for my fashion tips segment. The girls really like that. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: I’ll be sure to tune in for that, girl! Thank you so much for this wonderful interview. You’ve been a pleasure to interview, honestly. [ The interview reaches over to shake her hand with a grin on her face. ] I told you it wasn’t going to be that bad. You guys be sure to tune in THE GOLDEN HOUR feature the gorgeous GOLDIE on BET everyday @ 5/6 ET.

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: Thank you so much for having me! You were great, made me feel so comfortable and everything. [ She compliments the interviewer while she shakes the woman’s hand then she looks directly into the camera lens. ] Listen to the woman, y’all. She know what she’s talkin’ ‘bout. Kisses, see y’all lata’! ❜

#✰ ━━ ㅤ ♯𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: ⌯ task. ❜#✰ ━━ ㅤ ♯𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: ⌯ develop. ❜#tw ━ long post.#queued up.

18 notes · View notes

we-are-inevitable · 4 years ago

Text

love me sober // javid

ive ALSO posted this one before but i just made a BUNCH of edits and changed the ending, so, here we go!!

Love Me Sober

some things for this fic: -Sad Jack -there’s a lot of feelings in this one -idk if there’s anything else. just Sad -but reconciliation at the end !

WARNINGS: alcohol abuse, arguments, cursing, descriptions of withdrawal symptoms. please don’t read if you aren’t comfortable!! take care of yourself!!

"Jack, tell me you aren't drinking again."

The shakiness. The mood swings. The incoordination. All of it is painfully obvious, and Jack knows it. He knows he's struggling. He knew he isn’t hiding it as well as he should have been, and now he's made David upset.

“Jackie, answer me.”

How pathetic is that? There he is, staring at his boyfriend, unable to even speak. David has probably known for a while. Right? No- if David had known, he would have left. He would have called Jack an idiot and cursed him out for ruining his life. Jack didn’t deserve anything else.

“Jack!”

David has always been so, so pretty. He has sharp features. An angular nose, one that Jack had drawn over and over, in addition to those gorgeous eyes. David’s eyes are so beautifully blue, and Jack had spent countless hours slumped over a sketchbook, trying to accurately portray that look of adoration that David always gives him.

That look was certainly not the look he was giving Jack now.

“Why- Why are you just staring at me? Answer me!”

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispers, his throat closing up. Not good enough.

“You- You’re sorry? God damn it, Jack, I-- You promised you were okay!” David is running his hands through his hair. He had gotten a haircut a few days ago, and Jack thinks it looks perfect. Not as long as before. David has started pushing it up so it isn’t in his face while he works. “I knew it was a bad idea for you to stop going to meetings, I knew--”

“The meetings didn’t fucking work!” Loud. Jack is being loud. He stands from his spot on the couch, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. “They didn’t fucking work, okay?! I went for /you/, David, and- and I hated it! I hated it but you always looked so fuckin’ proud when I came home and- and I-- Fuck! Fuck, Davey, I couldn’t do it anymore! Do you know how hard it is?! All'a those fuckin' people in there were fine and I was fuckin' shaking the entire time! I can't function, David!”

“That’s when you fucking talk to me, Jack! I could have helped! I /want/ to help you get better! I'm not trying to be your enemy here! I love you, you just... You need to be honest with me." David takes a step toward him, and Jack takes a step back. They do this dance until Jack feels the wall against his back, but David doesn’t dare move closer- he’s still positioned about three feet away to give Jack space.

Usually, Jack would be grateful for the space, for the opportunity to initiate the touch.

Now, though, all he wants is for David to hold him and tell him he’s alright, instead of looking at him with that desperate disappointment.

“How long, Jack? How long have you been drinking again?”

Jack can’t ignore the look on his face. “Two months.”

“Two mo-- Jesus, Jack, I knew something was going on, but I just thought--”

“Thought what? Huh?” Jack is defensive. Defensive is never good, but he feels anger coursing through his veins and there’s nothing else to say. “What, you- you thought I wasn’t fucked up anymore? You thought I was normal again?”

David takes in a deep breath. “You aren’t fucked up, you’re just struggling right now. Stop talking about yourself like that.”

“Then stop fuckin’ talkin’ to me like a child, Dave!” Jack shakes his head. “Please, just- just stop! I don’t need your fuckin’ help, because there’s nothin’ wrong with me!”

“Which is it, Jack?!” David raises his voice. He’s not screaming, but Jack has never heard him like this. “You say you’re fucked up, you say you can't function, and then you say nothing is wrong with you-- What am I supposed to do?! You say you’re sorry, but you don’t let me try to help you, and you say that the meetings weren’t helping but you don’t want to try something else, and- I just- I don’t know what to do here! I love you, Jack, and I want to help you, but you're so- you're contradicting yourself again! I need a straight answer, Jack. What are you doing right now?!"

A deep breath. Heart pounding in his ears. Shaking hands and tears clouding his vision. “I’m leaving.”

Jack regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but he can’t backtrack now.

“What?”

“I’m leaving,” Jack repeats, squaring his shoulders.

David stares at him with a critical gaze. He looks confused, then angry, then sad, then… numb, all within three seconds. Jack has never seen that expression on his boyfriend’s face. “Of course you are. That’s all you know how to do, isn’t it?” David laughs, but it’s not a happy sound. There are tears welling in his eyes and he looks so hurt and Jack knows he fucked up, but all he can do is nod.

“Just--” David cuts himself off by ripping his gaze away from Jack, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as he clenches his fists next to his side. His face is red. A tear rolls down his cheek. “Just go, Jack, if you think- if you think that’s the best choice for you right now. I trust your judgement.”

Jack swallows. “Just for a few days.”

David nods. “For a few days. Sure.” He turns away, walking toward their bedroom.

They’ve been together for nearly two years. Lived together for six months. And Jack was fucking it up.

David stops just in front of their bedroom door, gripping the doorframe. “Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call me until you’re sober." With that, David walks into the bedroom and slams the door behind him.

Jack stares at the door, takes in a deep breath, and exhales in a sob as he gathers his keys, phone, and wallet. He looks back at the door, whispering a broken, "I love you," before walking out to his car.

***

Two weeks.

It takes two weeks for Jack to work up the courage to go home.

He's been with his mother the entire time, who he knows has been sending David updates every few days. Medda had taken care of him. Helped him through the shakes and the urges, the mood swings and the violent anxiety attacks, and he still isn't out of the clear, but he feels calm for the first time in months. He feels stable, even if the stability will only last a few hours at the most.

And that's why he decides to go home, because the calm he feels has brought along the realization that he misses Davey. He misses his boyfriend, the love of his life. He misses him so, so much, and he... He wants to prove that he's better. That he will be better.

When Jack walks up the steps to their apartment, he feels as though he's going to lose his lunch. None of his shit is sitting on the curb, so at least he hasn't been kicked out or replaced, but that still doesn't do much to ease his anxiety. With a deep breath, Jack takes the plunge and knocks on the door, staring down at his shoes while he waits.

The door, surprisingly, opens almost immediately. "Wow, sorry, I wasn't expecting you to be here so fast," David says quickly, and Jack looks up, seeing David fumble with his wallet. "It was, uh, $19--" He cuts himself off as he finally notices Jack standing there, and his face falls. "...You... You're back..."

"And, unfortunately, I'm not the pizza guy," Jack whispers with a nervous grin, then takes a step back. "I-- I went to Mama's for a while. I ain't had nothin', you can- you can ask her, and I went to a meeting, and I-- I am so, so sorry, Davey, for everything, and I don't expect you to forgive me, but I-- I want to get better, and I want us to get better, and I--"

"Jackie," David whispers, reaching out to take his hand. "Just... just come inside. It's okay, Jack. You're home now, and that's all that matters."

Jack squeezes David's hand, takes in a deep breath, and crosses the threshold. Instantly, he's pulled into a protective hug by David, and Jack can't help but relax into his hold. The first of his tears spill over as David kisses his forehead, and he's soon sobbing, apologizing, whispering against the fabric of David's hoodie. And David lets him get it all out. David allows him to get everything out of his system.

Because they both know that this, right here, is rock bottom. And they both know that the only way to go from here is up.

#idk how i feel about this one but i also like it so #yeah #javid #javey #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #newsies #newsies live #livesies #jac writes #jac txt.

25 notes · View notes

kreidewaltz · 4 years ago

Text

YEAR END LOVE.

happy holidays and advance happy new year everyone!! this was supposed to be for christmas but.. yeah hope u had a great time w your loved ones <33 this is for my friends who helped me get thru shitty times, who made me laugh so hard, and made me feel appreciated :) to my mutuals, thank u for taking ur time to talk to me!! any interactions from u guys makes me so so happy <3 im proud of you for getting through this year!! this is gonna b a long one .. hehe <3 sorry if i didn't mention u!! i still love u :( this is in no particular order dw dw ily all d same

to my followers, mutuals, and people who likes my stuff in general ツ

AAAAAAA guys ily you rock !! thank u for supporting me and just being there for me (esp for the ones who listened and stayed w my shit !!) ty for liking, reblogging about my stuff, or just interacting w me!! pls pls talk to me let's have some good convo hehe i hope no one will send me or any blog hate bc that isn't cool >:( happiness and love only are allowed people!!!

@sunakissses ツ

my bestie, my bae, babe <3 you rock val if im honest :( even tho we haven't been friends for a long time, we just clicked !! and yeah talking to u is just makes me at ease n u have that comfy vibes :)) and our interactions r so funny and wholesome <33 i just love when im talking to ya you know :(( and idk i love ur supportive aura whenever i do something hehe :( lets keep going next year and be more closer >:) and yes u and suna r going to be the cat's first ever aunt and uncle <3

@romaune ツ

okay .. the literal meaning of sunshine, yes you gracie baby :( you're so wholesome i wanna cry thats me 2 u !! i love your aura and just everything, i get so excited when u reply to my asks fr, because ure so enthusiastic n i like that a lot !!! :( ik we don't talk a lot yet but from our interactions (or just us screamin abt our mans winks) i know i gained a friend, a good n funny friend for that:) and ure so like hinata i wanna squish and hug and talk to!! i love how we scream abt our ongoing suna brainrots HAHA can't forget that <33

@cryoqi ツ

people put ur hands up 4 the coolest person ive met !!!! >:( istg you're so kind and so funny even if thats not ur intention T_T at first i was intimidated by u but then yeah <33 we vibe :( only the real ones know abt us and me bein your bread anon <33 ure rlly great and can't forget d time us and dove sang thru texts ...? yes that i cried while laughing HAHA, and yes i love the way u write 2!! so you and just amazing overall :)) n yeah i like to talk to u a lot in the server !!! ure so funny & relatable at times hihi

@miyasangel ツ

arden bae !!! you're so ... cool and pretty and one of the people i want 2 talk to in here <3 you're like cool and the way you write is chefs kiss >:( and i love it whenever we talk abt random things AHSHS and when we talk abt atsumu <33 i love love that !! n yeah good thing i interacted w u b4 on ur old blog and get to talk to you more !!! i was so shy n nervous while sending you asks sometimes LMAO idk why :(( ure rlly a great friend <3 n i think u also became a factor on why im liking inarizaki :D

@cafemiya ツ

omg hail to issy !! i know we don't talk that much yet but i literally like u a lot >:( you're rlly great w your long fics !! n handmade heaven lead me to you and ur asks <3 and you're so chaotic too HAHA i like that :) dw ill always shower u w compliments bc u so deserve it bby !!! and i squeal sometimes when u reply to my asks w the same energy :(( n yes i just love you and your vibe in general <3 and im so excited 4 the collab !!! <3 thanks for reaching me out hehe or my slowburn fic journey wont happen :( anw ily and keep slayin issy baby!!!! :D

@kuro0luvr ツ

omg kieran .. the big phat supporter of chlojime is here people !!! <3 i just love loooove talking to you esp in the server & we scream abt anything n everything :( and thank u for always giving me support and everyone else when we're down!! you're one of my sunshines 2 :( i love how we just talk and instantly b close friends you know!! even tho we dont chat like in dms we r so close hehe :( and yes ill never forget how happy u got when i complimented that u have akaashi vibes <3 ty for being a good friend n supporter to me :(((

@oikawasbliss ツ

milo everyday !!! >:) i missed our interactions tbh :( you're just so chill n i vibe w u a lot!! your themes omg i want em its so aesthetic and everything <3 and uhm i love ur love for oikawa >< i mean who wouldn't but whenever i see smth kawa related i think of u immediately T_T and yes ure just so so cool :(( lets talk more soon gah and maybe talk abt aot hehe smirks <3 and yes i just like ur themes and vibe a lot <3 lets talk more soon gah >:)

@himichii ツ

I KNOW we didn't talk really like until few weeks ago but ... you're so funny and kind n lowkey sweet HAHA u were so intimidating before i can't talk 2 u <//3 but im glad i did !! not me writin this and listening to the playlist u made for me :( omg thank u for that and the other that u posted, i felt nostalgic and (good) sad on d inside <3 HAHS lets talk more omfg idk what 2 say :( OH oh ure a greatt writer :( the angst u sent yesterday made me sad gah <3 let's talk more in the new years!!! :(

@hajimine ツ

oml lexy bae where do i start??? omg ily like <3 because you're so nice n sweet n so funny 2!! glad i started participating in your ask games and on that we became friends hehe :( i love how we just talk abt anything on your asks <33 like ur life keeps me entertained HAHA and when u became more chaotic n all that .. i liked it!!! :( and oh u write so well if u didnt know >:( can't wait 4 more interactions w you bae !! <3 and ugh omg ily <3 literally cannot express how much :( you have good vibes n i wanna have that too !! and love how we just scream over one man ;D

@lcaita ツ

omg kai ... hi <3 HAHS sorry if im so awkward wtf but ure so cool and so funny !!! i like ur vibes always even tho ure not always around <3 and when youre around i just get happy !!! >< for some reason i love ur name hehe and uhm i love ur aesthetics hehe on ur acc !!! >:) and yes thank u for being a kind friend hehe :( lets talk more next yr abt anything!!! maybe abt ur mans (kaashi, semi, others) hehe ;)

@kemochie ツ

nea !!! i just . wanna say that you're a sweet human being :( and deserve the world :( ik we didnt interact much yet but !!! i love u already n your aura in general <3 and i just get soft on ur username for some reason T_T i love our little interactions from time 2 time n i wanna boost that more on the new years!! <3 idk i like u :( that's it thats my say :(

@nightmareupondaydream ツ

kana baby !!! im so grateful for u whenever u send me sweet words at random times ... and when i need it <3 and i missed our chats in dms :( lets do it again sometime !! im gonna be here for u okay :( and you're so sweet fr i love u,, and yeah just talkin about how shitty life is or how my writing goes, let's do that on the new years oki!! <3333

@ravscrii ツ

thank u for being there like really >< ik u have own probs to solve but you still helped me :( ty for being a great listener and supporter hehe <3 u deserve great things !!! and pls dw okay we're good even tho we arent talking that much :( i miss that hehe n ure a kind and funny person ASHS esp in the server ur replies n everything make me laugh :( lets talk more soon like the old times AAAAAA i miss it hehe <3 and goodluck on genshin HAHA pls entertain me w it even tho i don't play </3

@rintaroll ツ

olivia babe <3 omg i missed u sorry 4 not checking on u :( forgive me <//3 just wnna say u totally made my 2020 better n a little more bearable <3 i like ur vibes sm and ur name .. olivia wow i like it :( and oh you're so aesthetic like ur blog in general ??? hello pls step on me :( and u also influenced me (for some reason) to like tsumu more ?! which i dont mind at all .. i like it when we scream over tsumu or i tease u n him getting horknee :D yeah and god i can't forget the time we fangirled over gojo on ur asks ... and u sent me gojo gifs which made me scream <3 one of my unforgettable moments w ya!!

to my hajime anon + mod ツ

thank u for always being here :( and you just chatting w me makes me so happy <3 i hope you'll see this hehe and just thank u and ily yknow :( when im down or happy, or shitty you're just there, supporting me always <3 im so grateful for that!! and hajime anon mod ily :( thank u for taking ur time to chat w me and make me so happy hehe <3 take ur time okay :)

to my baby, stella ツ

AAAAAAA idk if you'll see this but shoot me an ask if u saw :( uhm i love ur vibes and you're so cool !! promise <3 and your theme changes r always so beautiful <3 pls pls i love you so much agh im so worried when u deactivated :( pls dont overwork okay whenever ure working :( i love talkin to u always in ur asks !!! ure so sweet and lovely grr >:( u deserve all d good things okay ily stel :((

#advance happy new year !! <3

25 notes · View notes

4deathme · 3 years ago

Photo

Ok, let me start off by saying this, actually i had began writing journal starting from 1:23am and i had already wrote more than 6 paragraphs of the journal from the month of July despair. I have to write again now starting over again. What a pain in ass.

Alrighty, right now its 2:39am as i am writing these sentence.

It was July 22nd, Thursday, around 5:20pm i texted her long texts asking for forgiveness, acknowledging my mistakes. After lots of texts she finally responded to me at 6:14pm. She wrote a long text too explaining that i had hurt a lot and as she was trying to deal with her past trauma and was tryna fix herself too. She said that she need some time as she's overwhelmed by the current negative situations. She said that she had cried enough for the day. Although she said that she forgave me but also reminded me that i wasn't getting the same version of her like before.

I felt bad but i could understand because the amount of pressure i was giving to her weeks ago. Anyways, we were having good conversation after that, she was tryna lift me up by saying that i need to move on forward and then have a proper meal and sleep. She still cared about this stupid boy after all. She said that she’ll be forgiving me under one condition, and the condition was for my own benefit. I had to get better from the depressing state i was living in. She cared bout it still, yet fool like me always wanted more than anything. She texted me till 1:34am and then i got no response, she might have fallen asleep but yet i dared to call her twice.

Following the next day 23rd July Friday, I wished her in the morning and she responded at 11:23pm, our conversation was casual, she was getting ready to go out to her fam’s cafe to help her brothers out as she does every Fridays and Saturdays. After textin her ‘yello’ around 5:40ish, I just simply waited for her texts. She replied to me at 7:20pm something like that. She replied that her day was quit boring when i asked how her day went.

I reminded her that she was gonna call me tonight, which she declined by saying that she only said that she might. I was quite sad to heard that but i knew i could do nothin. If only that i night i wouldn’t have been drinking things would have gone in right direction. But as you know careless stupid drunkard never learns his lesson.

From 8-9pm we were both talkin about this and that about my current health and situation and at 9:46pm I texted her if i could ask her something, she said ok but then again i hesitated to ask her, she asked me what was it but then i just dismissed it by saying ‘it was nothing’ and her last hands on a face emoji. (The thing i wanted to ask her was, if i could get a one last chance to resolve broken love of the tales of Yuno and Yuki. I just wanted her back, i wanted to tell her so much that, never had i ever missed her voice, her laugh, her smile, her everything. It felt like i was in drugged into love.

And then it happened, around 11:38pm i started to annoy her more by texting and calling her.. little did i knew that she was actually sleeping and i was pissing her off. The thoughts of day labor at her fam’s restro didn’t seemed to occurred to me at that time, if it had came across my mind i would have thought about it lot but i just simply forgot it. She then responded furiously telling me how i could not think bout that she was sleeping. And idk why the fuck i started to babble about my feelings. Instead of apologizing and just wishin her goodnight i kept on babbling about my feelings and heart. She voice texted me too, and she sound genuinely pissed off. Yet to make things even more worse i started to talk about that my love was never fake and shit, and telling her that i was ready to meet her parents and marry her. Fuckin stupid ass drunkard me i hate myself for my own mistakes. That was the only time that i could have ever repent from my wrong doings but again no, fuckin miserable chap like me never gets his lessons.

Yah she got mad, she told me that i never understand my lessons and that i had just ruined her sleep. She told me to stop talking and let her sleep and that she was losing her mind bcus of me, yah that was the last text i received that night at 11:57pm. While me i just texted her until it was 4:56am in the morning and then finally im sorruuu text around 7am before going to sleep.

That was it after that. When i woke up in the evening and went thru my phone to check if i got any texts but then i saw that she had blocked me. It was quite like living in despair. It was not her fault at all, it was mine shit. I couldn’t fukcin handle myself. I was losing myself. I was numb. I was depressed. She was the only hope, the only light i felt while i was into the darkness and yet i fuckin blew it up in 2 single fucking night.

Wondering alone at the night in the street, reality and dreams steal my feelings and everything seems to have ended when it just begins. I'm in the abyss and she can’t see me. Should I let go and forget the past? I feel like I'm falling and the night is more darker than before. I feel so exhausted.

Current time before post : 3:49am

TO BE CONTINUED

#the future diary #yuno gasai #dawn #lonely cursed heartbroken #sad #despair #yukiteru amano

3 notes · View notes

the-l-spacer · 4 years ago

Link

Summary: Lloyd Allen is sick and alone at his house. This is unacceptable.

Written for Day 7 of Shaperaverse week, for the prompt ‘Family, Home’ - and is a continuation of the theatre kids au in chapter 1! I had a blast writing for this event. Thank you for reading!!

Lloyd Allen is sick. Like, sick sick. Not the sort where he gets a runny nose and maybe a hoarse throat that clears up in a day.

No, this is the everything-at-once, Chernobyl-nuclear-fucking-meltdown-anthropomorphised kind of sick. He’s hot (and not in the good way that, as Kelis once put it, brings all the boys to the yard). His throat feels like someone attempted to make him swallow hot control rods (to continue the Chernobyl metaphor). About every facial orifice is leaking steadily. Looking at himself in the mirror is an experience akin to staring at the Elephant’s Foot.

To put it sparingly, he feels like shit.

And, he laments, lying on his side on the living room couch, today is the absolute worst day to fall sick.

Through half open eyes, he gazes at the clock hung on the wall, — an old-fashioned thing circled with Roman numerals, because everything about his dad is old fashioned, a trait that passed from father to son — ticking steadily to 10am, when rehearsal is slated to start.

He briefly considers pushing himself off the couch, wrapping himself in a warm coat, and going anyways. After all, they’re just starting to rehearse Janissary in earnest, having almost memorized the scripts and choreography and blocking, and it physically pains him to be absent just when the real work is about to begin.

On the other hand, he can’t have the entire cast be bedridden because of him.

Mulling over his choices, he doesn’t remember when exactly he blacked out, only to be woken up again by the vibrating of his phone on the floor next to him.

Groaning, he reaches out his hand to answer it, and the very action feels like moving through slow, thick honey. He manages, but by the time he brings the phone to his face, the call ends.

The too-bright display tells him he missed a call from Asha.

A slight smile crosses his face. Of course she’d be the first to call him.

He dials back, and she picks up right away. “Lloyd?” Her voice is high and hurried. “Thank goodness you picked up. Me and the others are so worried. Are you all right?”

Try to sound like nothing’s wrong. “I’m fi-achOO!”

Well, so much for that.

“Oh Lloyd, you’re sick?”

“That- that much is obvious, Asha.” He forces the words out through a stuck throat, and is too busy cringing as sneeze-gunk runs down his face (gross) to regret his curt tone.

She sucks in a breath. “Sorry, sorry, god I’m such an asshole. Is it a fever?”

He wants to tell her that the asshole is him, that she shouldn’t waste her breath on someone as ungrateful as he, but all he manages is a short, “Yeah.”

“And from the sound of it, a sore throat and a stuffy nose as well. Do you have a glass of water somewhere nearby? Do you feel well enough to see the doctor?”

“No, and… no.”

“Lloyd- “

“Sorry.”

“- stop- stop hating yourself for one second. I was going to say I can come over right now, if you want me to.”

That’s enough to snap him awake. “NO!” He pauses, wiping his nose. “No. Continue rehearsing, take over for me. I want everyone’s lines fully memorized by next week.”

Now it’s Asha’s turn to be the naysayer of the conversation. He listens, with some grim satisfaction, as she splutters on the phone. “M-me? You want me to be- bu-“

“I’m sick, remember?” He coughs once, for emphasis. “You have to do what I say.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll do my best, and I’ll let the others know you can’t make it. In the meantime, you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yyyyes?”

“And you’re sure you’re getting enough water? Did you take a panadol? I could get some soup delivered to you-“

The rest of the conversation passes in a blurry haze. He vaguely remembers telling Asha to very much not waste precious rehearsal time by ordering food for him, and was it a fever-induced hallucination, or did he tell David to take over as narrator? Did he comfort the fraught third year until he no longer could, Asha finally stepping in to tell him to rest?

Well that he can certainly do. As Asha says something about sleeping in a cold place, he is already drifting off on the couch. He watches the (decidedly not cold) living room’s ceiling fan turn lazy circles, he murmurs a half-conscious ‘I love you’ to Asha, and he finally surrenders to unconsciousness.

Knock knock.

Knock knock knock.

“Lloyd? Are you there?”

What….

Lloyd stirs, and immediately regrets doing so. His hair sticks to the nape of his neck, and a layer of awful post-nap sweat coats his skin. Yet, despite the warm, stuffy air, he’s shivering, curling into himself, trying to figure out if the knocks on the door are figments of his fevered imagination.

“I think he’s still asleep.” The voices he hears are muffled, but definitely there. Is that David?

“Nothing else for it, we gotta pick the lock. I can use my hairpin.”

“Jill, NO!” His ears pick up Asha’s shrill soprano.

Michael’s telltale drawl comes next. “Doesn’t Lloyd keep a key outside the house somewhere? Was it the doormat, or the flowerpot…”

Lloyd’s eyes drift closed once again, until…

“LLOYD!!!” Two blurs bound toward him, but are quickly yanked back.

“Don’t crowd him! He’s way too warm as is.”

Lloyd rasps, “Asha... ? And Jill and Michael a.. And David? What are you all doing here?”

He feels himself being lifted, bridal style, and pressed against a sturdy chest, can feel the vibrations as Michael speaks. “We’re here’ta take care of our favourite stage manager, of course!”

“But.. you.. Rehearsals?”

“Done and dusted,” David says, hovering behind Michael as he carries Lloyd into the bedroom, depositing him gently on his soft mattress. “It went… not terribly, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Pfft, Davey here’s bein’ waaay too modest. As you predicted, he makes a pre-tty awesome narrator.”

David opens his mouth to protest, but Michael shushes him. “Go, set up the Switch so our boy Lloyd has somethin’ to entertain himself with once he’s feelin’ better.”

The obliging theatre techie in David wins out over his self-deprecating side, and he obediently trots off, leaving Michael in the room with a rather overwhelmed Lloyd.

“Don’t lie,” Lloyd begins, “was he really…”

“Yes.” Michael fishes out a thermometer from his backpack and takes Lloyd’s temperature. “Woof, 38 degrees. You’re burnin’ up. Aaanyways, David’s a little nervous, sure, I’ll let Asha fill you in on all the specific details, but he’s got potential. A loootta potential.”

Lloyd lets out a breath. “Good.”

“Now less talkin’, more tryna’ get better soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lloyd gives a small nod.

The other boy pats his arm, and leaves Lloyd, giving room for Jill to breeze in, pushing cups of honey lemon and hot herbal tea and instructing him to drink, opening the windows to let the cool spring air in, and twining small flowers around his shelves and bedposts, before finally pulling his rolling study chair over to his bedside.

“Asha’s in overdrive,” she says conspiratorially, “been freaking out ever since the call. She tried to hide it, obviously, but we could tell. She’s, like, super worried about you, so real talk. Are you okay?”

The chamomile tea warms his throat as he drinks, and he finds his voice flowing freer than before. “I’m all right, really. Some irresponsible delinquent in my lit class came in with a flu, which no doubt passed on to me.”

“But you’ve never been sick before, at least, you haven’t been like the entire time we’ve known you!”

“When my immune system is down, it’s down, I suppose.”

Jill’s face pulls in a sympathetic pout. “Oof, that’s rough. Least it’s not anything serious. If it was something serious, you’d tell us, right?”

Lloyd must have paused too long, because Jill leans forward with sudden seriousness, necklaces adorned with tiny silver trinkets dangling in front of his face. “We care about you. I know Michael and I like to give you grief, but we really do. We’ve been friends for years now, and if something happened, it’d be like I lost my- my brother or something!”

His face heats. “Jill… I... of course. Of course I’d tell you. I care for you all greatly as well, even if I don’t show it.” His hand finds Jill’s. “Thank you, for saying that.”

She gives his hand a squeeze. “Just saying what we’re all thinking. I’m gonna go play Smash with Michael and David. You,” she stands up, tapping his shoulder lightly, “rest.”

“I will.”

She leaves Lloyd, a little confused at the interaction, though all that falls away when Asha enters the room, a bowl of hot ginseng chicken broth in hand.

“I’m sorry for being so curt on the phone, just now,” he blurts out.

Asha waves his apology off. “Water under the bridge. Eat up.”

Time passes, Lloyd savouring spoonfuls of soup as Asha sponges him with cold water, giving him a play-by-play of their rehearsal. The details remain hazy in his mind, though Lloyd does chuckle when his friend tells him of David forgetting he was so far downstage that he almost missed his cue and fell right off the raised platform, saved only when Michael yanked him backwards.

“That.. certainly explains why his shirt is hanging off of him a little looser than before.” Lloyd remarks.

Asha sweeps the finished bowl of soup from his grasp, replacing it with a glass of water and a Panadol. “Interesting that even with a fever, you notice how David’s shirt fits on him.”

It’s lucky that Lloyd only has the glass raised to his lips, else he would have done a spit-take. “Wh- what?!?? Who said anything about me staring at David’s shirt?! It’s just a- a casual observation, anyone would notice it!”

Asha grins. “Naturally, naturally.”

“What does that mean?!”

“Nothing!” She says breezily.

Lloyd stares at Asha, currently sending a text on her phone to someone. From the living room outside, he hears Jill snort.

Ordinarily, he would press, but as is, his information-overloaded brain begins to shut down once again.

“Sure,” he says finally.

Asha looks at him with surprise. “That it? You’re letting me off that easy?”

“ ‘m tired,” he simply says, sinking lower into his sheets. “I’ll ask again if I remember.”

Asha busies herself switching on the AC, drawing the curtains so they don’t let in the late afternoon sun. “Sleep, and properly this time, okay? We’ll be waiting outside for you once you wake up.”

“M’kay.” His eyes are already half-closed, watching Asha hover in the doorway.

“I love you, Lloyd.”

I really did say that on the phone, huh.

Nothing else for it, then. “Love you too.”

When Lloyd wakes, his senses come alive one at a time. He feels better than he did in the morning, the medicine doing its work so he’s no longer covered in a cold sweat. His nose is no longer stuffy, and the room’s cool air is permeated with the faint scent of chrysanthemum.

He sits up. It’s properly dark, now, and he can hear faint voices outside.

Gingerly, Lloyd pads out of his room, peeks around the entrance to the living room, and sees his friends, crammed together on the couch, whisper-screaming as Princess Peach beat the shit out of Link on the TV screen.

It’s hard to tell who it was who notices him standing in the shadows first, but it’s David who says, “Guys, Lloyd’s up!”, followed by a responding chorus of cheers from his friends.

His friends.

Is it his fever, or is the warmth he feels rushing through him as they make room on the couch coming from someplace else entirely?

Is him resting his head on David’s shoulder a result of fatigue, or… something else?

And is David tilting his head so it rests on his in turn coming from the same place too?

Later, they sit at the kitchen table, eating soupy noodles ordered in by Michael, and Lloyd wonders if it's the hunger from his previously light meals, or if the food, eaten as he sits surrounded by his friends, is the best he’s ever had?

Is it the thinking of his sickness-muddled mind, or is his house, filled with inane chatter and loud, boisterous laughter, so unlike the cold, quiet days spent with his father, more like a home to him than it ever was before?

And is it his imagination, or is this small group of theatre nerds truly his family? Family he never had, family that disappeared when his mother left?

Even after his father does return, frowning at the mess and noise, and his friends sheepishly clear the takeout boxes and unplug the switch and wash the dirty plates and cups, finally bidding him forlorn goodbyes and get-well-soons, the thoughts don’t go away.

Lloyd pops another pill and heads back to bed, sending a short ‘thank you’ in the main cast and crew group chat, switching off his phone as he sees the wall of responding texts and stickers flooding in.

He settles his sheets back around him, catches sight of evidence that the afternoon and evening truly happened - flowers adding a splash of colour to the space, a scribbled ‘gws’ post-it from David on his bedside table.

Lloyd Allen goes back to sleep with a small smile. After all, the sooner he gets better, the sooner he can return to the theatre. The sooner he can see his family. The sooner he can come home.

#new albion #shaperaverse #paul shapera #sorry i cranked this out at like 1 am and dont have the energy to edit it so #here take it #prompt week was kinda intense but like. fun! never wrote this much in such a short span of time b4 dlkjfas kinda proud tbh

7 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 4 years ago

Text

day 16: bad day

prompt from: whumptober (tho i misread the title and can’t post to the challenge but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i still like it) pairing: felix x ace notes: felix’s day goes from bad to neutral to Nice (tm). also everyone except david is a shitty person in this lmao. warnings: implied emotional abuse, implied cheating, threat of violence word count: 2900

It was official; this was the worst day of Felix’s life.

It shouldn’t have been. He should have been happy, maybe a little shocked and nervous, but definitely excited. Not anxious, scared and downright spiteful like he felt right now.

His girlfriend was pregnant. They hadn’t been trying, but she was excited to tell him regardless, already thinking of baby names and giving Felix no room to voice any of his doubts. He knew this was what he claimed he’d always wanted, what he knew his parents wanted for him, to continue the family name since he was the last of his line.

He took another swig of the foul-tasting beer and wondered if she’d done it on purpose. She’d been not-so-subtly hinting at marriage for months, and Felix had always brushed her off. Maybe this was her taking matters into her own hands, forcing Felix to commit to her or drag down both his family name and professional image for having a child out of wedlock.

He didn’t want to marry her because she always seemed way more fond of his money than Felix himself, and he didn’t want to have kids because…

Well. He hated children.

He probably should have brought up that particular piece of information sooner, but he wasn’t sure it would have even made a difference. Not to his parents, not to his girlfriend, and certainly not to the ungodly amount of distant relatives and business associates who kept bugging him about settling down and starting a family.

Because, for some reason, dedicating the last twenty years of his life to doing what other people wanted him to do wasn’t enough.

He’d stupidly believed it would get better. That the twelve-hour work days and countless all-nighters on uninspiring projects would eventually pay off, when in reality all it had lead to were more boring projects. He’d thought buying his girlfriend expensive gifts and taking her on weekly dates followed by the obligatory weekly sex would make them fall in love, but instead she was pushing him into commitments he wasn’t ready for.

He downed the rest of the beer and tried to numb out the suffocating feeling of being trapped. He was doomed to keep living his shitty life exactly the way others dictated, and there was nothing he could do to change his fate.

Maybe that’s why he’d chosen this bar. It wasn’t the usual high-end, after-hour cocktail bar next to his office where everyone would recognize him. It was a shitty sports bar owned and frequented by foreigners, where nobody would approach him to congratulate him on the “good news” after his girlfriend e-mailed his entire contacts list in her excitement.

He debated getting another beer, maybe finally being able to pick one that didn’t taste like piss. God, how sad was his life that the biggest act of rebellion he could come up with was getting drunk on cheap beer in a bad part of town?

Felix clutched the glass tighter in his hand, frustrated at his life but also at himself, how he was unable to do anything but play right into everyone else’s plans. Fuck, he needed to do something different, something he’d never even considered would be in the realm of possibilities for him. But what?

He looked around the bar, seeing a group of backpackers animatedly chatting in what sounded like Spanish. He could go travelling, but that wouldn’t accomplish much except buy him a little bit of time. Not to mention his girlfriend would guilt him until he let her come along.

He could always get blackout drunk and puke his guts out in the bathroom. Maybe get into a bar fight. Try to get his hands on some drugs. Hire a prostitute.

Unfortunately none of those things seemed even remotely more thrilling than the bland beer he’d been drinking the entire night.

Felix sighed and buried his face into his hands. For forty years, he’d kept telling himself he wasn’t like everyone else, that he’d do something meaningful in his life, that he was a risk taker and not a conformer.

And he still would; he just didn’t know what. If he only got a sign—

The door to the bar slammed open and Felix snapped his head up from the noise, his table rattling from the impact of the door hitting the wall.

There was a man, his grey hair and cheap suit both wet from the autumn rain, clutching something under his arm while panting like he’d just run a half marathon. He hurried to close the door, and Felix didn’t mean to stare, but it was the most exciting thing to happen all night.

The man caught Felix’s eye and gave a quick grin.

“You saw nothing,” he offered before running up to the bar.

“Don’t tell me ya fuckin’—” the bartender started, clear annoyance on his features.

“Oops, gotta run, I was never here!” the man offered good-naturedly before hopping over the bar and disappearing into the back.

“Ace for fuck’s sake!” the bartender cursed, yelling at the doorway to what had to be a back room or kitchen. Still, he made no move to follow him, instead sighing in agitation and aggressively started cleaning a couple of pint glasses.

Felix realized three things at once; one, the new customer screamed trouble. Two, he clearly knew the bartender. And three, Felix was intrigued.

He made his way to the bar with his empty glass, placing a ten euro bill on the worn wood that earned him a fresh glass of beer in only a couple of seconds. He appreciated that the bartender hadn’t tried to make small talk during the entire evening, and lamented the fact that he had to break the silence.

“Who is your friend?” Felix asked, trying to ignore the self-consciousness that always surfaced when he had to subject the world to his extremely obvious German accent.

“'Friend' is a strong word,” the bartender huffed in annoyance, though it seemed to be directed at the person they were talking about and not Felix. “'A pest who keeps comin' back like a boomerang no matter how many times I kick 'im out' sounds more fitting.”

Felix hummed in acknowledgement and sipped at his beer, deciding to sit down at the bar instead of returning to his table.

“He seems interesting,” Felix mused, trying to fish more information about the man.

Instead of humoring him, the bartender stopped cleaning the glasses and gave him an incredulous stare.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” he deadpanned. “The hell's a guy like you see in a rat like 'im?”

“That wasn't what I meant,” Felix insisted, staring at his glass in embarrassment. He was just curious, he wasn't… interested, at least not that way. God, why could he never communicate properly? This is why he never tried anything new.

He heard the bartender sigh long and loud, like this wasn't the first time he'd had to put up with a similar situation.

“Look mate, whatever yer thinkin', don't,” he offered, like that was supposed to help Felix at all. “Guy's way more trouble than 'es worth, an' he sure as hell ain't here to make friends.”

Felix didn't have time to reply, not that he even knew what he would have said, before the door slammed open once again and heavy footsteps stomped into the bar.

“Oi!” the bartender shouted in annoyance. “Don't go draggin' mud into my bar!"

“Where is he?” one of the new patrons demanded in German, and his voice was threatening enough to make Felix glance over his shoulder at the new arrivals.

He saw a group of four men that looked like bad news, their cheap clothing and poorly made tattoos making Felix think of some lowly local gang.

“Read the sign, mate,” the bartender scoffed, pointing at a metal plaque in the style of a road sign that said ‘Service in English only’.

“What a fucking moron,” one of the thugs commented, not even attempting to switch languages.

“We know he's here!” the man at the front barked out and proceeded to slam a fist against the bar.

“I got no bloody clue what yer talkin' about!” the bartender claimed. “But if yer gonna come to my bar an' start a fight, so help me—”

"Let's just beat him up!” one of the men was getting impatient.

“For the last time, where is he!?” one of the thugs surged forward and grabbed the bartender by his collar.

“You've got the fuckin' wrong place, I dun know shit about what ya even want!” the bartender, to his credit, didn't even bat an eye. Then again, it looked like he could easily hold his own in a fight.

Felix heard a gasp and noticed one of the Spanish kids cower closer to the corner they were sitting in, observing the scene with fear in her eyes.

The tension in the air seemed like it was about to snap, and instead of making Felix want to bolt into the safety of his mansion, it made his adrenaline start pumping.

This was what he needed. A thrill.

“You heard the man,” Felix raised his voice, finally turning to address the group. “You're in the wrong place.”

“Shut the fuck up, this doesn't involve you!” one of them eloquently responded.

“It started involving me when you barged in and ruined my night,” Felix explained calmly despite feeling his palms start sweating from nervousness, years of faking an unphased persona finally coming to use.

“Okay, the fuck's your problem!?” the guy who seemed to be the leader demanded, finally letting go of the bartender in favor of looming over Felix threateningly.

“I said,” he emphasized, slowly lifting his pint glass to take a sip of his drink and flash his ring with the family insignia. “You've got the wrong place.”

There was a moment of silence when all Felix heard was his own heart beating in his ears, keeping his expression neutral and looking at the thugs like they were nothing more than a fleck of dirt on his expensive suit. Hopefully, they'd recognize the symbol, even if the Richters hadn’t been involved in the local underworld for years, not after the disappearance of his parents.

“The fuck is he on about?” one of the men, who looked to be the youngest, demanded. “Let's just beat them both up and—”

“Shut up,” the leader barked, glancing at Felix fleetingly. “We seem to have gotten lost on the way.”

Felix couldn’t help the smug smile.

“Happens to the best of us,” he said.

The group slowly started slinking out of the bar without further complaints, with Felix's eyes following them the entire time as if daring them to protest.

“Sorry for bother,” one of them even offered to the bartender in questionable English before the door closed after them.

“I'll be damned,” the bartender huffed and crossed his arms, giving Felix a look that could generously be described as somewhat impressed. Felix offered a shaky smile in return before he focused all his attention on staring at the surface of the bar and trying not to tremble from fear as the adrenaline left his body. He hoped it wasn’t obvious he was taking unnecessarily deep breaths and that cold sweat was running down his back under the suit.

That had been the most idiotic thing he had ever done. It was stupid, it was dangerous, and unnecessary and—

And he'd never felt such a rush of absolute victory before.

There was a thud as a beer was placed in front of him, and he glanced up to see the bartender smirking at him.

“It's on the house,” he said in a heavily accented but otherwise fluent German.

Well. It seemed this night was just full of surprises.

Soon after, Felix found himself sitting in a corner booth nursing his two beers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt good, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol buzzing in his system.

He’d proved to himself that he had balls. He was one wrong move away from ending up in a bar fight, and even that thought didn't make him cower in fear like it would have before. Despite never being in a fight before, his confidence was soaring, and he liked to imagine him and the bartender could have easily taken the four thugs.

And then his night only got better as a handsome stranger slid down into the opposite side of the booth.

“So, King told me you saved my ass just now,” the man said with a charming smile, casually leaning closer and propping his chin up on his elbow like they were old friends catching up.

It took Felix longer than he'd like to recognize the man as the one that caught his attention earlier. Without the baseball cap, sunglasses and cheap suit jacket, he cleaned up rather well, dressed in a simple light pink button-up and jeans. Slightly messy, silver hair was a stark contrast to the mischievous brown eyes and almost youthful, cocky smirk on his face.

Felix suddenly realized why the bartender thought he was interested in more than just the man's colorful personality.

“I suppose that's true,” Felix said after a way longer silence than was socially acceptable, but his companion was courteous not to mention anything.

“Well, whether you meant to or not, you have my thanks!” the man grinned good-naturedly. “I would have bought you a beer, but I see David's already got you covered,” he added, gesturing to the two pints where Felix was still working through his first.

“Yes, it's…” Felix started, debating whether he should be honest about his distaste for the drink or not. Fuck it, drunk and brave had worked earlier. “A shame it doesn't make it taste any better.”

The man barked out a laugh and Felix smiled at the success of his joke.

“I know, right?” his companion snickered. “I keep telling him to mix it up, maybe get some nice wines too, but he insists on importing that awful stuff the Brits call beer.”

Felix smiled politely, not knowing what to add to the statement. Regardless of what the bartender—David?—had claimed before, the two definitely seemed to be friends.

“I'm sorry, where are my manners!” the man suddenly seemed to realize, offering his hand over the table. “I'm Ace.”

“Felix,” Felix replied, returning the handshake firmly, like his father and numerous career coaches had taught him.

“So, Felix,” Ace continued, retracting his hand but leaning over the table even further. “What brings you here? I think I'd remember seeing someone like you before.”

Was that flirting? It had been so long since anyone had showed any interest in Felix, he couldn’t even recognize what was just casual conversation, too used to business world small talk about the stock market and someone's secretary's family.

“I needed a change,” Felix said, before realizing he probably shouldn't be revealing too much. “—of scenery,” he hastily added.

Ace regarded him silently for a few heartbeats and Felix gulped down some beer to try not to fret under the scrutinizing gaze.

“Scenery, huh?" Ace hummed. "Seen anything you like so far?”

Okay, that had to be flirting. Right? Felix stared at Ace's face, but the other wasn’t giving anything away. And Felix thought he was good a keeping a straight face.

“Maybe,” he answered simply, keeping eye contact much longer than appropriate on purpose.

Ace didn't look away and Felix wondered if he was the only one who noticed the tension in the air.

He always sucked at flirting, even in his native tongue, and now he had to do it in broken English. He thought he'd been pretty obvious, but he still wasn’t sure if Ace was just being friendly. Maybe he wasn’t even into men.

Well, to be fair Felix didn't think he was either, university time experimentation aside. There was something about this particular night, like he was desperate to prove to himself that he was still capable of making decisions for himself.

He’d always thought he wouldn't cheat, but he also knew that if Ace offered, he wasn’t going to say no. If this was the only thing in his life he still had control over, he was going to make the most of it, and he no longer cared if that made him a bad person.

“You know, I've stayed in a bunch of different hotels in the area while I've been here,” Ace mentioned out of the blue, and Felix furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “There's a pretty good one just down the street.”

Felix swallowed, at last realizing what the other was getting at.

“Really?” he asked, trying to mask his suddenly surfacing nerves.

“Yup. Kinda cozy, very… discreet,” Ace chirped casually, like he was talking about the weather and not propositioning a stranger.

Felix cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket, managing to fish out a crumpled twenty euro bill despite his sweaty palms. He slapped the money on the table, hoping the tip would convey his gratitude to David for setting him up for the best night of his life.

Finally, he stood up from the booth and offered Ace a nervous smile that probably made it glaringly obvious just how eager he was.

“Lead the way."

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #david king #dweetwrites #dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #prompt #felix x ace #abusive relationship tw

18 notes · View notes

lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

[-infatuatedgirl]

Hey, what’s your name? Stephanie.

How old were you when you got your first cell phone? Weren’t you just tingling with excitement? I was 16. I wouldn’t say that, but it was cool. I’m old, so it wasn’t a smartphone yet.

Do you ever read the results of the surveys you make? I don’t make surveys.

How many belts do you own? Zero.

If you had to live with one pair of shoes, what would they be? My Adidas.

Do you believe in love at first sight? No.

How about forevers? It happens.

What’s your comfort food? Lately, it’s actually been ice cream, which is weird cause I wasn’t ever a big ice cream person before.

What do you use your cell phone for, aside texting and calls? Ha, I hardly use it for those reasons. I use it for the apps more than anything.

Are there any picture frames in the room you are in? Yes.

Did you ever ride a limo? Yeah, several times. My dad used to work for a limo company when I was a kid, it was cool.

Do you use a lot of hair products? Not at all, just shampoo and detangler.

Creepiest movie ever? Hmm. Not sure which movie I’d give that title to.

Do you ever wonder what your life looks like to someone else’s eyes? Gah, I don’t want to know.

Have you ever walked into a crowded room and felt so alone? I do often feel alone even though I’m rarely completely by myself.

What’s your current status in facebook/myspace? I shared some random meme thing earlier. I like never post actual statuses anymore, I just share stuff now and then.

What was your dream job as a child? I wanted to be a teacher.

Is it still the same? No.

Did you ever stay up all night? Fun, right? As a kid? Yeah. Especially when my cousins slept over. We’d try to stay up with junk food and soda and watch movies, play games, etc and see who could stay up the latest. Ever took a Bzoinkoid? I don’t know what that is.

Do you like cracking your knuckles? Sometimes it just needs to be done.

What color’s your car? I don’t have a car, I don’t drive.

If you don’t have one, what color would you like it to be? I’m not sure.

Did you ever do something you promised yourself not to? Didn’t it feel good? I have and some of the things did and some I regretted.

What’s the ‘craziest’ color you dyed your hair? Red was my first bold color I did.

What’s your definition of fearless? Having no fear? ha.

Don’t you get a bit happy when you take an iPod shuffle survey and the song fits perfectly? I don’t like those type of surveys, actually.

Do you like paranormal stuff?(shows,movies,books,etc) Nah.

Do you believe in those? No.

What’s the weirdest compliment you ever received? Did you even take it as a compliment? “You’re pretty for having polio.” I’ll never forget some random woman coming up and saying that to me. Like what does that even mean? I don’t have polio and I don’t know why she assumed I did apart from the fact I’m in a wheelchair? Also, does that imply people with polio aren’t usually attractive according to them?

Do you have a favorite stuff toy? What’s it’s name? My shitload of stuffed animal giraffes. What’s the most exciting project you were given? Hmm.

Are you familiar with Polyvore? If so, do you have an account? No.

Did you accomplish your New Years Resolutions last year? I stopped making those several years ago.

What are you passionate about? Nothing. :/

Without passion we’d truly be dead. Fact or fiction? I haven’t felt passionate about something in a long time and it does feel like I’m really missing something. Like, I think you should have something you’re passionate about, it’s fulfilling.

Are you guilty of internet slang? I use the ones like, “omg”, “wtf”, and “lol”, but otherwise I’m very much about being grammatically correct.

Would you rather be hurt physically or emotionally? I would rather just not be hurt at all - how about that?! <<< Right, like wtf.

Were you ever truly and completely happy with yourself? No.

Is your life balanced right now? No.

Did you ever roll down a ramp or hill? Countless ramps as someone in a wheelchair.

If you can’t be with the one you love, will you be with the one who loves you? I don’t want to just settle.

What’s your favorite scent? I have a lot.

Are/were you forced to believe something you don’t? When I was a kid both sets of grandparents tried pushing their religious beliefs on me.

Are you very dependent on people? I’ve had to be very dependent the past couple months now due to health setbacks.

Do you let small things ruin your day? Ugh, I do let stuff like that get to me way too much and too easily these days. Like every little thing.

Do you over-analyze things? Yepppp.

Did you ever wonder what life would be in a stranded island? It would be depressing and lonely. Also, probably terrifying. <<< Yeah, not something I’d want to experience that’s for sure.

Do you have a good sense of direction? Nooo. I’m the worst.

What’s your opinion on Kesha? I liked some of her songs.

Are you excited for what the future holds for you? I’m scared of what the future holds for me to be honest.

Are you more of a listener or a talker? I’m definitely more of a listener than a talker.

Indoorsy or outdorsy? Indoorsy for sure.

Name something that you think is overrated. Bacon and sushi. It seems like literally everyone loves both and I don’t get it.

How about underrated? Hmm.

What’s one question you HATE being asked? Hmm.

Is it personal or it just bugs you? --

Do you own any comic books? Nope.

Or you’re more of an anime/manga person? I’m not into those either.

Do you have any weird phobias? If so, what? Ugh, I don’t even want to type the words but the fear of holes and clusters lsjlskfklsdjflkdsjfdlsk

Were you ever obsessed with something then realized how lame it really was? Twilight. :X

If you had a time machine would you visit the past or future? The past.

Or is the present too good for you? No, definitely not. What would you change in that time zone? In the past? I’d change some things that would make it so I wasn’t dealing with some of the health stuff I’m going through now. Some of it could have been so easily avoided and managed, but I was stubborn, irresponsible, and negligent.

What’s the title of the first survey you created? I’ve only made one survey, many years ago, and I don’t think I titled it.

What color is your iPod/mp3? I have a black iPod Touch, but it’s been stored away and unused since 2012. I use Spotify on my phone for music, which is gold.

Do you think you could live without music? I’ve hardly listened to music at all this year so far and I’m still alive.

Describe your favorite top. I love all my graphic tees.

Do you change your style frequently? No. Especially not now. I just live in leggings and graphic tees.

Are you a tshirt-and-jeans kind of person? No, I’m a leggings and graphic tees kind of person.

What’s the most traumatizing event that ever happened to you? The one that made me a paraplegic.

Do you own a diary/journal? This is it.

Do you write there often? I definitely do.

Don’t you hate it when there’s nothing good showing on TV? I got into this routine the past few months and have my lineup of shows.

Insert your favorite smiley here: :)

How many live concerts have you been to? Like 6 or 7.

Did you keep the tickets as a souvenir? Yeah.

Tinypic or Photobucket? Aw, the days of Tinypic and Photobucket. I’m sad because I have a shit ton of photos saved on Photobucket and I can’t access my account. D: Like, I’m talkin’ photos from Myspace days.

Tumblr or Xanga? Well, it’s just Tumblr now... <<< I really do like Tumblr, but I also miss Xanga. The survey community was huge.

What do you do when you’re really nervous? Fidget, squirm, pick at my nails, bite/pick my lips, mess with my hair, twiddle with my hands, jump to worst case scenarios...

Do you have a bad habit you just can’t break? Picking at my lips, nails, and skin. :/

Would you say you’re down to earth? I think so.

What’s the first thing you see when you look at yourself in the mirror? I really try to avoid that as much as possible cause I hate what I see.

Do you find peace in being alone? I haven’t felt peace in a very long time.

Summer holds such wonderful things. Fact or fiction? Fiction. I could just skip right on by it to be honest.

Ah,summer (: What��s your favorite thing about it? The only thing I like is if I’m able to go to the beach. If I had a beach house with private beach access and didn’t feel miserable for months, then I wouldn’t mind summertime.

Are you faint to the sight of blood? Just the mention of it makes me feel weak.

What’s something you’ve grown used to? I feel like this is how it’s always going to be... :/

What’s your favorite dessert? Lately, I’ve been really into ice cream. I was not a big ice cream person before, like until recently it had been a few years since I had any at all. Suddenly, I’m all about it. *shrug*

Do you like spicy food? I loved spicy food, but I can’t have it anymore. :(

Are you easily bored? I didn’t used to be. I think my boredom is actually the depression, though.

Do you wish for the same thing at 11:11? Or does it change depending on how things are going in your life? I don’t do that.

Do you even wish at 11:11? Nope.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

2 notes · View notes

dragonstoravens · 4 years ago

Text

Babylon Vol. 1: Bad Behavior, A Dancer in her Own Right

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(Two chapters today, but this one’s a bit of a shorter update anyway. Believe it or not, we’re getting towards the end of volume 1 now!! It’ll be all posted by the end of December, and then in the new year at some point we’ll start posting 2. We’re also looking into Wattpad, and maybe even making an audiobook, so keep an eye out for those updates. Enjoy the chapters!)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

17. Bad Behavior

A tap on her shoulder alerted Azure to someone just behind her. She turned, smile plastered to her face. The woman was about her age, grinning conspiratorially. That was never good, in her book. Grinning usually meant there was a plan for the conversation, and conspiratorially meant she’d have to actually participate. She washed away her distaste for the idea with some champagne before speaking.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Oh no, we haven’t. Samantha Whitewater, my family owns the Whitewater mining firm.” The introduction was followed by a small bow, which Azure returned. A colony family, then. Whitewater continued. “I just wanted to congratulate you.”

Congratulate her? She hadn’t done anything of note to these people. She never made deals and she talked about herself as little as possible, trying to create a black box of a history no one would question. There was nothing to congratulate, and even less for a stranger to bring up out of nowhere. She touched the comm.

Hey Hotshot, you remember anyone from the Whitewater family?

I think I got a proposal from them once, he responded. More business than pleasure, though I think they wanted a marriage too. At least they didn’t keep pushing when I denied both.

That was all she needed. At least Samantha and her family had manners. Her smile relaxed to something more genuine. She didn’t know what she was about to be congratulated for, but at least it wouldn’t be underhanded. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, things have been awful slow for me lately.”

“Oh, nothing like that. I’m just congratulating you on making such a good match. No one else here could say the same, though of course the Jericho name is something of a hot-ticket item to many of us. My own family included, I have to admit.” She laughed like it was some kind of joke between friends, and Azure’s blood pressure rose. Trinity, seeming to just take notice of the conversation as Azzy’s burgeoning anger began to make itself known through their mental link, began to turn, a crease in his brow the only sign of confusion showing through the ice-sculpture poise he wore around these events like armor.

She blinked to cover for the twitch in her eye, tucking her hands behind her back to cover the sparking. She ignored the vague warning of Azzy, no, that buzzed in the back of her head from Trinity, bulldozing on. “I wasn’t aware he was on sale in the first place.” Her words came out clipped, stilted, and poisonously sweet. Speaking of her friend as though he was an item made her stomach churn, even in retaliation. These events often weren’t terrible until something like this came up, the word choice surrounding people objectifying and economic in the worst manner. But never once had someone brazenly spoken about Trinity to her face before, like it was normal or expected. That was her friend Whitewater was talking about, the one who’d taught her about shrimp forks and helped her reach high shelves in her lab and made poorly edited images of frogs telling bad jokes for her when she was sad. She seethed. “I suppose that would explain why you caught me off guard then.”

The woman blinked. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what it’s like where you come from--” the incredibly rude phrasing was somehow undercut by the fact that she still didn’t seem to think she was insulting anyone at all-- “but clearly you’re not used to this kind of society. We’re all a commodity here. The best he or anyone should hope for is to find someone equally as useful to him as he is to them, and maybe someone he can get along with-- though with someone as Icy as Jericho I never held out too much hope for that. That could have been me, but I guess it’s you.”

Azure opened her mouth to speak, but Trinity’s hand on her back stopped her just long enough for her to hear him out. Azure. She’s right. Drop it.

Azure shot back a response with a dangerous growl entering her mental voice, indignant and angry and protective. I don’t recall askin’ how anyone else here felt about it but me, so you drop it. She cleared her throat, her tone once more painted over with a thin veneer of polite but apparent disdain. “It is me, thank you very much Miss Whitewater. I wish you the very best of luck in finding someone merely useful to you.” If it wasn’t going to get her kicked out, she’d have spat at the woman’s feet like she used to when people bullied Crim in elementary school. Instead, she grinned conspiratorially with entirely too many of her teeth. “Because as we both know, that’s simply the most one can hope for in this wonderful little bubble.”

“Like you’ve done any better.” Whitewater finally seemed perturbed, angry that something was disrupting her sterile worldview. Her lip curled slightly. “That man touches you like he’d rather be doing anything else. Two inches away from anything that could be considered a little risque, even while dancing? At least someone like me would’ve known what I was getting into, with someone like him.”

Trinity saw Azzy draw in a breath, and knew whatever she was about to say would be even worse. So before it could leave her mouth. Trinity had turned fully to face the two of them, and in an instant his arm was wrapped firmly around her waist. His hand rested squarely on her hip-- right on the strip of skin her dress’ cutout bodice left exposed to the air. His fingers dug into her flesh just slightly. Not hard enough to even leave prints on the skin, but just enough to send a message. Azzy relaxed in posture only, looking for all the world like a guard dog that had just been told to sit as she looked up at him sidelong. “I’m sorry, Miss Whitewater, but my date and I have business elsewhere. Will this be all?”

“Of course. Enjoy your evening, Jericho. Garza.” Whitewater’s voice was stilted. Trinity turned Azzy around and used his arm around her to begin to shepard her away-- he wasn’t sure she was prepared to actually leave this alone, left to her own devices. They made it about ten feet before Azure looked back over her shoulder, sliding her arm around his waist as well and winking back at Whitewater, Garza’s supposed devious intention with Trinity on display. Internally, there was a small blip of take that, asshole, and then a self satisfied calm. Trinity sighed. He hated to play into whatever that was, but unfortunately a deserted hallway was likely the only place he was going to be able to talk to Azzy alone. He tugged her away into a winding passage off to the side of the main ballroom, gritting his teeth as he imagined the scandalized stare that Whitewater woman was probably still sending after them. He couldn’t deny that it was… amusing, to an extent. But he liked to avoid attention he wasn’t looking for at this kind of thing, and the last thing he needed was a jilted business-lover spreading around the fact that he’d pulled his date into a secret corner in the middle of an event. What was done was done, though, and he had to admit he hoped Whitewater felt sufficiently humiliated by the end of all that. Whatever it was.

Finally satisfied they were alone, he let go of Azzy-- careful not to let his hands linger a second longer than they had to-- and sighed, leaning against the wall with a slightly bemused smile. “What was that about? And why did it seem to have everything and nothing to do with me?”

Azure blew a stray curl from her face, absently rubbing her hip where he’d touched her with her opposite arm. The consequences of her actions appeared to be finally setting in, and her face was apologetic in that same way it was when she realized she’d started eating in massive bites at dinner instead of polite and small ones yet again. She looked almost bashful as she looked up at him. “Sorry Hotshot, I just...I don’t know, she started talkin’ about you like you were a thing instead of a person. I’m used to ‘em talkin’ about how hot you are, and that’s fine because it’s true at least, but no one’s ever said anythin’ like that about you right to my face before, it pissed me off.” She finally let her own hip go, shaking her hands to rid them of sparks and avoiding his eyes to avoid letting it be known just how honest she was about to be. “It’s rude, and it’s dehumanizin’, and I just believe real strongly that you deserve better than that.”

Trinity almost denied it, wanting to cite times he certainly had not deserved better, but the last thing he wanted was to open up that can of worms. The wound of his profiteering off that war-torn planet was still too fresh, his apology still somewhat inadequate. Instead, he just shook his head. “I know what you think, but whether that’s truly how I am or not, it’s how I’ve presented myself for years to these people. Besides, she practically called you a bumpkin to your face too, and I’m not sure you even noticed.” He felt something soften slightly inside him as he looked at his friend. She’d been defending him. God strike him down if he knew why. God would probably strike him down regardless.

She waved a hand, looking unaffected. “Who gives a shit about me? I am a bumpkin for all these people should care. But you’re…” she struggled, squinting her eyes and scrunching her freckled nose as the machinery of her mind ground its way to some kind of an end to her sentence that was eloquent. It failed. Instead, she came out with: “You’re cooler’n they are and they should admit it to themselves and act with some damn respect.”

Trinity tried and failed for several moments to hold himself together before he burst, doubling over with laughter. She’d never seen him laugh like this in person-- heard it, maybe, over a particularly good meme or something, but never like this, actual tears forming in his eyes. She grinned, wide and crooked, her job here complete. He slapped his knee, struggling to straighten back up. “Ah, Az. You’ve brought us full circle.” He wiped a hand over his eyes. “I give a shit about you. I am also what she said about me. And you are also ‘cooler’n’ them. Yes?”

Now suddenly she was bashful again. No one ever called her cool. Smart, maybe, or nice or even helpful sometimes, but never cool. She blushed. “Sure. At least I know how to act normal. Sorta. In comparison, at least.” Her hand reached up to scratch behind her ear, sympathy painting her features. “It’s a sad little life she’s about to lead. Honestly, I hope it’s what she actually wants or else she’s gonna be damn lonely without an actual someone to connect with.”

“It’s a sad life most of us lead,” was his only response. His face was turned slightly from her, into the shadows of the dark hallway, leaving his expression unreadable. “Sometimes there are things more important than our own happiness. Shall we?” He held out a hand, gesturing back down the hall towards the well-lit bustle of the ballroom. It struck Azzy that things in this world seemed to hide better among glitter and blinding lights than they did in the dark. Nevertheless, she placed her own hand gently in his.

“Now remember, act like you like me or else I might actually have to throw down one of these days.”

“Right, right.” Trinity huffed out a tiny little laugh, his fingers finding the skin of her hip once more. “As long as you’re alright with it.”

“I’m a bad actor, this is easier.” She leaned her head into his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his waist and leaning into him. “Plus, this way I don’t even have to stand up straight.”

18. A Dancer In Her Own Right

Her boots made a gentle beat against the hard metal of the floor. One step then another, sure of herself even as she looked in the opposite direction to her movement. There was a rhythm to her every sway, every object she tossed over her shoulder and caught in the other hand a step in a dance she was choreographing on the spot. Something from this drawer, cross the room to another cabinet, all of it swirling around that constant central point that was the examination table and her workbench. Watching her set up for a deep maintenance test was like witnessing a ballet. Her stretch for something off a high shelf was easy, graceful. She knew exactly how far everything was, exactly how many steps to get there. She carried the objects she collected as though they weighed nothing, a spring in her step the whole way.

Trinity sat on a counter as far out of her way as he could get, but he might as well not have been there at all, for all having another person in her space slowed her down. He couldn’t help but marvel a bit at the sureness of her movements, now that she was in a place entirely her own. In society and on a ballroom floor she stumbled occasionally, one might even assume she was clumsy. That thought would be long gone the moment they saw this dance, one made by and for her, the perfect combination of grace and power. Ballroom dances were as much for the observers as the dancers themselves, but being able to observe this felt like a privilege more than a right. Being allowed to appreciate this sight as an outsider, a friend but someone who would admit freely that he couldn’t even begin to understand her, was a gift. In this moment, Trinity relaxed, and let himself appreciate the organic yet mechanical beauty of her, without letting his brain get in the way. After all, dancing was supposed to be instinct above thought.

She held out a hand, and he automatically picked up a wrench that sat at his side, placing the handle in her palm. She took it without looking, and the dance went on. She vaulted casually onto a countertop like it was the most natural thing in the world, grabbing some gray box off a shelf near the ceiling and hopping down without a hint of hesitation, no signs of exhaustion as sparks flew in her wake. She made her way back to the center to drop both things off, to pick up something else, to continue this seemingly endless waltz. Individual curls of hair freed themselves from her braid, her beanie long discarded in favor of having the goggles she typically wore around her neck situated atop her head. She stopped briefly at the edge of her stage, only to map out a new path that carved the edges of the room from the center, a small bucket in hand to hold whatever things she needed as she went along. She needed a lot of trinkets and tools, and she knew what each of them were. She paused briefly in front of him, and pointed above his head. It took him a moment to insert himself into her rhythm again, then he knew what she wanted without words. He slid off the counter and held out his hands to make a step for her, boosting her up to whatever it was she needed to reach. She stepped lightly onto his outstretched hands, opening a cabinet and pulling a bottle down in the same motion as her descent back to the ground. She flashed him a grin, crooked and pleased. He heard a snippet of something she was humming to herself, low and sweet, her own orchestra to accompany her own dance.

Now that he was no longer needed for the moment, Trinity hopped back up on the counter, content to just watch her work in perfect harmony with herself.

#wip: babylon #writeblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #chapter update

6 notes · View notes