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mcmoth · 4 years ago

Text

BOIS

The aro c!Tommy propoganda is done.

Here:

Friends can be Home, too

Summary:

Love. The thing that supposedly drove the world, that made everyone happy. He thought he knew love. But maybe… maybe not. Maybe there has been something deeply, intangibly wrong about him this whole time, and he hadn't even known. Not to this extent.

'Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

He couldn't doubt anymore.

A journey of introspection, self doubt, and realizing you're not alone.

Or read on ao3!

Warnings: swearing, internalized arophobia, which includes self doubt, a bit of self hate, that sort of stuff. Also, this will have like, mentions of attraction and all that stuff, and Tommy gets pretty confused, so if you'd like to avoid that? This isn't the fic for you, ig. Btw, as a reminder, this is all set in the dsmp universe and is not about the irl people in any way.

Now onto the fic!

Welp.

Tommy sure is ready to stab someone right now.

Well, not really. More accurately he wanted to run, or shrivel up into a fucked up raisin, or snap, or just exist in darkness right now. Because there were his two best friends, cuddling on the couch. And he was sat there, next to them, supposed to be enjoying movie night.

It's not like he wasn't happy for them. They can do what they want, he reminded himself, again and again. They're just expressing their love, they're just close, and Tommy has to stop being such a fucking oddball about it. This wasn't weird. It wasn't weird.

And he could even see Ranboo giving him looks, probably about to ask something stupid. But if he made any comment, expressed discomfort, that would just be him being a dick and a weirdo. He's not going to ruin this for them. He just has to… to ignore it. To ignore it. He can do that. Yes.

“You alright, Tommy?”

Tommy's jaw snapped, he could feel his teeth grinding, and the couch was feeling all too small. So with a fast raise to his feet, he stumbled away, throwing a brash “fine" Ranboo's way, something burning deep in the pit that was his chest.

It was fine. It was fine. Why wasn't it fine? What the fuck was wrong with him??

Maybe he was just…

Jealous.

***

“I think I have a crush on Hannah.”

Tubbo and Ranboo stilled. The silence was… bad.

“oh?”

Tommy gulped, anxiously crinkling the chip bag he got from targay. “Y-yeah.”

Tubbo hummed. “I've never seen you interact with her much. When… did that start?”

Tommy's mind buzzed, and he resisted crushing the food in his hands, reclining heavily against the backrest of the bench. “I-I don't know, uh, recently? I guess? She's just… nice. She uh…. Has pretty hair? And she gave me a flower once! That was just, swe- uh, poggers of her, so. Yeah. I just think… yeah.”

Tubbo nodded, head tilting. “Do you think she likes you back?”

Tommy's eyes widened, and he didn't know why he laughed, but he did, and when he responded, he himself was taken aback by the hiss accompanying the words. “No!! She- why would- no- no, I mean… m-ma- I don't know??”

Ranboo swung his tail. “She better not. I mean, how old is she?”

“What does that matter?”

Ranboo stared. “You’re a child. Technically.”

Tommy bristled. “Fuck you, I am a big man! I'll kill you!”

The conversation moved on after that, and Tommy, somewhere along the way, quickly got lost. Head filled with cotton, electricity running through his veins, feeling horribly, oddly, humiliated and strangely… dissatisfied.

They didn't care. And he just felt more confused than ever.

…Why did he even do that?

***

Tommy was walking, grass up to his knees, a lead in hand. When he reached the village, he tied it to a fence, patting his borrowed horse before placing feet on the path, comforted by the gravel crunching beneath his feet, the feel of the sun on his neck. He looked around, at the wooden houses and half stacked stalls and idle chatter. He looked around and he thought.

He thought back to older days. This was… strangely nostalgic. Walking alone, in an unfamiliar town, the vastness of the world enveloping him in it's many potentials. He still wasn't sure when he felt better. Running around on the streets, just trying to survive, noone by his side, weak but naïve, hopeful. Or now, with some people to care for and trust, a place to return to, enough food in his pack, but shouldered with the weight of a dozen betrayals, life slipping past him three times too many. In a sense, he was still just trying to survive. Everything was so different now, yet the same.

He supposes, one thing that remained, was the sense of loneliness.

He grasped the front of his shirt, taking in the beating of his heart, looking at the strangers mingling amongst themselves. At the pairs, at the couples, at the families, sharing laughs and smiles, a contrast to the furrowed brows or tired amusement of shopkeepers and the idle folk visiting them.

He had always wanted a family.

…there was one way to get a family.

Someone to share laughs with. Someone who would comfort you. Someone who would take your hand, or hold you through the night, and never even leave. Someone who promises to stay.

It was a nice thought.

So why was it so hard to conceptualize? To imagine, to picture someone actually coherent, to look at a person and go – yes. I want to be your partner.

...eugh. just that sentence made his whole nervous system do a double take.

But why? Why? Was it the betrayals? Was it some fucked up self conscious mind shit? Was that it? Was he just fucked up in the head? Maybe.

Maybe.

But as it is, he knew he liked girls. He did. He liked them. They were… they were nice. Like Niki, who smelled of baked goods, and had a soft smile, and who had once given him a hug when she found him crying during the revolution, and who looked very nice in dresses. Or Puffy, who had made him a pickaxe when he asked for one, and who opposed Jack in stealing his hotel, and who offered him therapy, and she had really cool horn rings. Or Hannah, with her red flowers, and pretty builds, and the way the nature seemed just a bit more lively with her around, and her laugh was bright with mischievous intent that he could empathize with. They… they were nice. Yeah. Most girls were so nice.

So why… why hadn't he found one that he could. Actually picture doing… anything. In his head. No kissing, no dates, none of that… shmuck. It was just… he could see many girls his age running around, just now, in front of his eyes, many running through his mind as he searched his memories. None of them… no. And he tried thinking of boys, but that didn't… no. Not that either. …Enbies?

No… no, nothing… nothing felt. Good. None of it felt good, he just felt sick, he just felt weird, he didn't even feel dirty per se, but more like he was charting into foreign grounds, into something alien, and none of the thoughts he forced to visualize behind his eyelids, fleeting from how quickly he shut them out, felt like him. It didn't feel like him.

His fingers trembled, his chest felt tight, throat choked, and his head, on his shoulders, heavy and woozy and oh so muddled. He felt his heart race. Was… was that it? Maybe that was a sign. People said heart racing was a sign of attraction. Was there anyone in particular who did that? Maybe he was wrong – he was not lacking or messed up or broken, he just had buried the feelings so deep below his ribs, underneath fabricated doubts and trauma and the disconnect he had with reality and relationships in general, and once he got over those barriers, and just found someone, he would experience that joy that everyone spoke about. That closeness. He just had to… allow himself to get closer. To know more people, know them better.

That was… that was probably it.

But no matter. He raised his eyes, his senses coming back to him like the wind blowing his hair out of his eyes, blinking at the noise around him.

After all, he still came here for a reason.

***

“Yeah, I like these ones the best,” Tubbo said as he handed Tommy the various colored discs. Tommy nodded, smiling as he sorted through them, writing down the names in his notepad, feeling little stones dig into his elbows. Tubbo joined him fully on the ground, laying down next to him. “What do you need these for, anyways?” he blinked, and there was a smirk growing on his face. “Are they for… someone?”

Tommy furrowed his brows, staring at the other. “What?”

Tubbo chuckled nervously, waving his hand around as he stumbled over his words. “You- you know. Like a gift? Are you going to… to try to, get someone?”

Tommy’s stare just became sharper, becoming even more confused. “What??” What the fuck was he talking about?

“You know, like a- a date?” Tommy blanked. “Cause- you know, you've been talking about girls a lot lately, and I just thought-"

“No.” Tommy interrupted, feeling numb. “No, it's not for a fucking girl.”

“Oh.” Tubbo laid on the grass, clearly uncomfortable. He began to tear up the leaf he had picked up. “Sorry, I just thought- I'm not really good at this whole thing… sorry for assuming. W- …what is the reason, then?”

Tommy sighed, thankful for the topic change. “It's for… you know how I’m going to therapy?”

Tubbo hummed in affirmation.

“Puffy suggested that, since I like music, I should like, indulge in that, use it to calm myself or give myself something to do, that junk. So I’ve just been. Collecting, I guess.” He looked over the list again, then closed the notepad and sat up, discs in hand. “I wanna build a place where I just keep all the records, maybe I’ll even sell the ones I don't like. Good business practice, you know?”

Tubbo brightened. “Oh! That sounds really cool! If you need help with the building part, I can help you, by the way!”

Tommy looked at Tubbo's grin, so sweet and infectious, and his heart thawed, thinking of working with Tubbo again, building towards something together. It was a nice thought. “Alright.”

It would be nice to be with Tubbo again.

***

Tommy felt miserable.

This… this was miserable. He didn't know why. It really shouldn't be – it was just music. He was just sorting through all of his music, picking ones he liked, picking ones to comfort him, he loved music, it was fine, it just…

Why did so many of the songs have to be about love.

It made him feel angry and hurt and alone in a particular way that was so familiar and yet so utterly different. Because when he felt alone before, he fought with himself the same, he sunk into the thoughts of being unlovable or broken or undeserving of company, but at least he could understand it. At least he could look back now and think “Dream was a bitch" and that would be some solace. At least he could have hope that even if he was unlovable, he could still love. Love others. Try to seek others. Even if he never got that back.

But now, hearing all the poetics and sweet confessions that were in such abundance, something that sounded so passionate and revered, so integral, it was like looking into another reality he didn't, couldn't, understand, and suddenly, he felt more alien than ever before.

And most importantly, how fucking stupid that was, that the thing that made him feel that way was love.

Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

He couldn't doubt anymore.

God….

He laid on the ground, head to the cold floor, the record still spinning. The noise bounced off the dark wooden walls and into his skull, grating and aching. He covered his ears, messed up his hair, breathed in and out. In and out. What was wrong. What was wrong.

The record fell to silence. Then it started back again, as it automatically swapped out. Next.

His fingers felt restless, his whole body did. He tapped his skull, feeling the thumps echo. Breathe in, and breathe out. Breathe-

“-ow will I ever know you enough to love you, if you're hiding who you are?

Don't ask me to explain-"

He startled, his breath catching. This disc was scratchier than the others. It felt different. Something in him drew in the lyrics, head loud. He blinked.

…He's not hiding. Is he? Hiding what? He’s- no. Just- Breathe in-

“-Who are you hiding from, across the table with a penny in each eye?

Don't ask me to explain, don’t ask me to explain-"

His breath escaped, arms trembling as his body froze. He didn't understand. He couldn't explain. He wanted to cry. Something was unravelling.

“I'd like to marry all of my close friends, and live in a big house together by an angry sea,”

He sobbed.

He did, he thought, with surprise, as the tears fell.

“Am I the devil's marbles don't move on without me,

Who will be watching my body when I sleep?

Who will I believe in?”

Something… yeah.

Something happened.

Because suddenly, all that stress, all that confusion, all that loathing, was detangling, and the tears ran deep, ran painful, silent, wheezing screams escaping as the sobs continued. He couldn't breathe. His chest was tight. His head swam, and he felt oh so light headed. Light. He felt light. Happy. He felt alive.

He felt understood.

He- he wanted that! He could- he wanted to live with his friends, with Tubbo with Ranboo. He wanted to stay as friends. He wanted them to protect him, to be able to trust them, to be able to protect them in turn, he wanted to reside with them, he wanted to sleep amongst them, to have them watch over him, safe, he wanted to wake up in the morning and see the sun rise with then, he wanted to have casual dinner with them, he wanted to grow old together with them. As friends. As friends.

Friends.

What a lovely thing…

He could… he could live with his friends…

He could build a family with his friends.

And he didn't even care at that moment that he didn't know how Tubbo and Ranboo would feel about that. He didn't care whether they'd want him at their house, whether they'd want him around at all. He didn't even care, at that moment, if he couldn’t join them.

Because he realized that it was a possibility at all. Just the prospect, just the thought, the realization, that spending your life, being intimate, finding a stable ground, with your friends, not romantic partner, was possible, that it was possible to not be able to feel otherwise, that it was shared by other people, who wrote this song, who sung it, who had thought about it…

It meant he couldn't be that alone after all.

“It's so easy to lie to myself,

And pretend that I could love you, but I can't"

And oh so comforting it was, that he couldn't.

***

“Ey, Ranboo! Bitchboy!”

Ranboo suppressed a smile, an exasperated sigh hissing through his teeth. Tail swishing, he glanced to the other boy, who was down below, standing in the snow.

“C'mere!! I gotta give you something.” He yelled.

Ranboo raised a brow, but complied, closing the window he had been looking out of. After making a quick detour to check on Michael, he made his way down the stairs and stepped out of the doorway and into the light. Tommy bounded to him, big grin on his face. He seemed jumpier than usual. Ranboo smiled in turn. “what is it?”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it, instead going to rummage through his bag. What he took out was a… box? “Here, fuckboy.”

Ranboo winced, taking the container. “Don't call me that.”

“Why, what does it mean?”

Ranboo stared. “Just…. Don't.”

Tommy blinked, laughing nervously. “o-okay.”

Moving on, Ranboo inspected the item in his hands. It was medium sized, and made of simple, but elegant, smooth black wood. On the top, there was a leather sign embedded in it, with the word Beloved stitched into it. His ears flickered. This seemed… awfully nice. “What’s in it?”

Tommy scoffed. “Just open it, you twat.”

Ranboo, with a glance, could see the anxious way Tommy was holding himself, seeming impatient and uncomfortable. So he wasted no more time, and clicked open the surprisingly sturdy iron latch after a moment of struggling, and what awaited him inside was…

“…Discs…?”

Ranboo held his breath, fingers twitching as he held the gift. …was it a gift?

Tommy was staring at the ground. “Yeah. You know, I’ve just been traveling around, collecting, and I wanted to…” He seemed to shake himself lightly, hands wringing. “I wanted to give you some, I guess. That… yeah. These are yours.”

Ranboo was stiff, still perceiving the actual gift in his hands, that looked hand made, that was hand picked, that Tommy had worked to attain, just to give to him. His tail curled, and he carefully, delicately closed it's lid and hugged it close to his chest. “I… Thank you. Thank- O-oh wow…”

Tommy scowled. “You look like a fish. It's not a big deal. Just… take a listen sometime, won't ya?”

“Y-yeah!” Ranboo reverently nodded, cursing the way his eyes felt misty. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll definitely listen, and cherish it. Thank you, Tommy.”

Tommy curtly nodded. “Alright. Pog.” And then, he was turning around, walking away with a quick “Share it with your family, too, some day. Bye.” Thrown or his shoulder.

And then, he was gone.

***

Tubbo heard music down the hall.

Ears tilting towards the pleasant sound, he skipped with bare feet over to the source, evening light casting warm glow through the windows as he went. When he arrived, to what was Michael's bedroom, he found Ranboo on the couch, curled gently over their son, head resting on his little head as he seemed to just… listen, wistful. Michael was listening too, letting out a little yawn as he turned his head to snuggle even deeper into his parent's warm embrace. Tubbo smiled softly at the scene.

Quietly, he patted over to them both, Ranboo eventually noticing him and watching him as he did. Tubbo buried a hand in Ranboo's hair, and the other leaned in. “What are you listening to?”

Ranboo didn't rush to explain, letting the comforting silence fill the space. When he spoke, it reminded Tubbo of soft flower petals and honey. “I didn't know Tommy's music taste was so…”

Tubbo blinked, turning to the disc lazily turning on the jukebox near them.

“-But in the end, I don't really care what you think,

Cause the bottom line is you make me happier than I’ve ever been...”

“wholesome.” He chuckled, fondly.

Tubbo hummed, unsurprised. “Tommy gave you these?”

Ranboo leaned more heavily in the couch. “Yeah. I don't know why, but…”

Tubbo's smile only deepened as he thought. Slowly, he replied, “I think he just wanted to show you he cared.”

Ranboo seemed to lose his breath a little, looking up at the other. “You think so…?”

Tubbo carded his fingers through Ranboo's hair, looking past Ranboo's twitching ears. “Tommy doesn't do things like these without reason. If he gave you something, it’s safe to say you mean a lot to him. He doesn't like to show it, usually, but… that I know.”

Ranboo stared at the turning of the discs, breathing softly. His tail curled around Michael. “Oh.”

Tubbo sat down at his feet and joined in.

Hearts warm, they laid there and listened until the sun had cast it's last rays and the jukebox no longer had a melody to spin.

***

Tommy sat behind the counter, feet on the counter, just trying to eat his discount chips while some people were being dumb children.

“Stop throwing the fucking food! I'll have to clean this up later!” He whined, to which Tubbo and Ranboo just threw him a glance, Tubbo’s apathetic and Ranboo's at least vaguely guilty, before Tubbo went right back and threw another gummy worm Ranboo's way.

Tommy scowled. “Seriously. At least pick them up and eat them.”

Ranboo made a face of disgust. “I'm not gonna eat candy off the floor, Tommy.”

“Yeah, some of us don't eat mud, Tommy.” Tubbo added.

“There’s no fucking mud here! It's a clean floor! You can totally pick them up and eat them, what the fuck!”

Tubbo raised his brows, staring. “Okay, then go and eat them, trash boy.”

“Okay, that's it.” Tommy raised to his feet, left his chip bag on the table and ran to Tubbo. Tubbo squawked, crawling onto the armchair he was reclining in to curl into a ball around his bag, but Tommy just threw himself onto the armchair with him, trying to reach for the candy. Which, considering the position, it was more like he was half-tickling, half hugging the other more than anything. “Give me that.”

Tubbo just burst out laughing, trying to hide deeper into the couch, attempting to kick the other away. “St-Stoppp!”

“C'mon, you disobeyed my shop's rules, I’m just confiscati-"

Something hit his head. Tommy stilled.

Ranboo peeked from behind his own candy bag, before digging into it again.

Tommy laid off of Tubbo slightly, raising like a puffed up cat. “Ranboo, you fuck!”

Tubbo laughed again, and Tommy was about to go on a murder spree, only for all the commotion to halt when they heard a sudden 4th voice.

Michael.

“Oh shit.”

Ranboo sighed. “He's awake. C'mon.”

Tubbo sighed as well, rolling out of the couch and dragging his feet towards the source of the oinks. “For the record, this is not my fault.”

Both of the other boys gave him the stink eye, but in the name of preserving needed ceasefire they held their tongues.

Michael was sitting up in Tommy's bed that resided in the backrooms, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and hiccuping. Tubbo reached for him, lifting him up. “Aww, did we wake you up? I'm sorry, little bossman.”

Michael clutched Tubbo's shirt, muttering something in piglin.

“He's asking what all that noise was.” Tommy quickly translated, before turning his eyes back to the kid and saying something soft in piglin back. Michael listened, seeming to quiet a little.

Ranboo, gathering that it was an affirmation, smiled and took one of Michael's hooves gently. “Yeah, we were just having fun. Do you want to have fun, too, Michael?”

Michael’s big eyes widened, and he wiggled in Tubbo's grip. “Ye! Ye!”

They chuckled, and Tubbo transferred his hold of Michael to Ranboo, who led the way in making it back to the front of the shop, chatting with his son all the while.

Tommy bumped his shoulder with Tubbo's as they walked, but didn't say anything further. Tubbo bit back a grin.

The next hour was spent feeding Michael and letting him listen to some new discs. Tommy even remembered he had some records that were in piglin, some songs, some stories, and put them on, which seemed to enrapture Michael quite a bit, immersed in the new voices and tales and familiarity. The three boys let him sit in Ranboo's lap and get lost in his own world, residing on a couch together and quietly chatting, around them comfortingly dark walls, bookshelves and the smell of wood and candles.

Eventually, the conversation steered.

“You know, Tommy, why don't you join us?”

…huh?

Tommy blinked, willing his breathing to restart and for the words to come. “W-what?”

Tubbo looked at him with warm eyes and a trepidant smile. “Like, how would you feel about coming to Snowchester? Live with us?”

Ranboo waved his hand. “Of course, you don't have to! But we just thought, you know, if you'd like a bit more, uh, company…”

“We want to be with you, is all.” Tubbo added quietly.

Tommy's heart raced, and he only blinked more, hands clutching the fabric of his pants. “B- be with me… are you…” he gulped down the butterflies clogging down his windpipes, still trying to understand that this is real. “are you sure…?”

Ranboo grinned, patting Michael's head idly. The piglin looked up at them. “Yeah! You're family, Tommy, after all.”

Tubbo tilted his head. As Tommy was still struggling to respond, he assured, “You don't have to if you don't want to, big man. No pressure.”

Tommy laughed, weak and breathless, but bright. “No, I-I’d- I'd really want that, but…” he gestured, trying to put his worries to sudden coherent sentences. “wouldn't that be… awkward? Like… you two, just, l-lovebirds," he chuckled clumsily, “and then there's… me, just, there?”

Tubbo shared a look with Ranboo, then turned back and laughed. “You won't be a third wheel, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, it's not like we’re really romantic partners, even, it'll be fine.” Ranboo said.

Tommy stilled.

Blinked.

“Uhw- what?”

The other two tensed, Tubbo quickly glancing at his husband before grimacing, thinking deep on how to explain it. “You know, we… we're not really… romantic? We just decided to marry? But we're… not platonic either, it's…”

“I-It's something inbetween. Queerplatonic is the word? I think?”

“It's hard to explain-"

“There's- there's a word for that? And you were- Like. Friends? Living together, this whole time??” Tommy reeled, head in hand.

“Well, not exactly friends, or at least, with how we decide to label our relationship, but… yes?”

“Oh my-" Tommy slumped forwards, now both of his hands holding his head upright, just. Breathing. “Shit. What the fuck. I…” he laughed, wrecked.

Tubbo and Ranboo stared at him, uncomfortable. Tubbo frowned. “Look, if you… if you're gonna say something, I’d rather-"

“No- nono, it's…” he raised his eyes, slowly, like coming out of a cave and into the light. His words tripped upon his tongue, but he was so eager to know. “So you two don't want… romantic partners?”

They blinked. “Not… particularly, no.” Ranboo replied. “…are you okay?”

Tommy laughed. It sounded stilted even to his ears, senses muddled as he was wrapped up in his own head, his own elated feelings, his heart nearly bursting at the seams. “I-I’m not alone.”

Tubbo stared, but then his eyes softened. He sighed, and his smile was immensely gentle, while looking at his friend. “Oh, Tommy…” Ranboo, beside him, wilted the same.

Michael, inbetween them, looked at all three of them silently.

“…Do you want a hug?” Tubbo quietly offered.

Tommy quickly nodded, slumping into Tubbo's side and burying his face in Tubbo's soft hair, not even caring for the way one of his horns poked into his cheek slightly. He held the other, and Tubbo held him. He felt the end of Ranboo's tail drape over his leg.

With a delicate tone and worn vocal chords, he quietly, and simply, admitted. “I'd love that. I'd really love that. Living with you three.”

Tubbo tightened his hold.

That night, Tommy fell asleep not alone, but with his two other closest people, his family. Safe, warm, with that insistent nagging at the back of his chest cavity, that told him he was alone, that he was wrong about himself, that he never even knew himself at all, finally silenced.

He had never felt more at home.

168 notes · View notes

secret-engima · 5 years ago

Note

I really like that the outcome for the Pretty Song!daemons is becoming their own creatures, bc that means Lucis will have to work out how to deal with a bunch of semi-sapient magical beings that are no longer hostile. Also, on that note, it occurs to me that bad ppl will become much more hesitant to hurt kids in rural Lucis after stories of various assholes scaring kids and getting curbstomped by a FRICKING IRON GIANT, or tackled by a swarm of angry tonberries (1/?, sorry this might be LONG

lark1537 said: (2/?) bc the daemons know Pretty Song; and know that humans hurt her, even if she never said (they see how she stiffens when she hears humans, or they're near towns, and most of them have little enough Thirst now that they don't need to eat humans and the only reason they try is bc HOW DARE YOU SCARE PRETTY SONG, but Pretty Song doesn't want that so they listen to her); and this small human isn't Pretty Song but they are small and scared like she was when they first met her before she knew them

lark1537 said: (3/?) And they will not let anyone hurt another small-human, even if they don't sing. This also leads to me thinking abt children being the first humans to befriend no-longer-Thirsty daemons, bc they're young enough not to have learned to always be scared of daemon-looking creatures, even if they seem nice (bc no parent thought a daemon would seem nice, or could come out in the light); and bc the daemons are already predisposed to like small-humans, bc of Pretty Song

lark1537 said: (4/?) And THAT led to me imagining a parent somewhere in rural Lucis having their toddler come tell them abt the "big puppy" Big Sib is playing with outside, and said parent nearly having a heart attack when they come check it out and find their 10 yr old using a basketball to play fetch with a Cerberus, who is being very careful not to knock over a tree with how hard their tail is wagging, and occasionally tries to catch it with all three heads at once. And THAT image led to me thinking abt all

lark1537 said: (5/?) The daemons that are self-aware/sapient, or at least implied to be (Melusine, that talking Naga, Iedolas-the-Foras) and the ones that seem humanlike enough that it's tough to believe they don't have enough of their humanity left to talk (Arachne, Ronin) being freed from the Thirst that clouded their thoughts and made them more animalistic and essentially being nocturnal, magical, maybe-immortal people.

lark1537 said: (6/?) How would Lucis even deal with having a new group of self aware residents that previously didn't exist? Would Thirst-healed sapient daemons be counted as citizens? Does killing them count as murder? What abt daemons who were turned recently enough that they can still remember some of what they were, like Ravus? Would some of them go back to their old families? I hope so, bc that opens up the possibility of a kid hitching a ride on a half-spider lady and telling concerned

lark1537 said: (7/?) onlookers not to worry, this is her big sister, yeah she looks scary but as long as you don't wake her up before noon and don't complain abt the cobwebs she's really nice! And she's great at knitting! And just think abt how awesome an integrated daemon-human civilization could be! Chocobo ranchers having tonberries watch their flock at night & paying them in new materials to stab, or asking them to help with cooking. Iron giants helping out friendly farmers with the heavy lifting, or being

lark1537 said: (8/?) rescue ppl from a cave in. A kid with a pet/friend bomb who lights up at night to help them not be afraid of the dark, like a sentient nightlight. Mindflayers working at vet offices to calm unruly/dangerous patients with their gas. PEOPLE RIDING MICTLANTECIHUATL. On that note, would half-daemonic creatures like the bloodhorn or mictlantecihuatl who are just daemonized enough to be dangerous be altered by the lack of Thirst? They'd probably be

lark1537 said: (9/9) similar to Ardyn or Titus, who are both calmed by music, and are something more than just human, at this point. Maybe they'd be just aware enough that they could be interacted with more easily, like the intelligence of a dog or crow, rather than a human. Sorry this got so long, I started thinking and I think my latent childhood dreams of having a talking dragon took over. I just really love the idea of nonhuman people interacting with humans peacefully, and the resulting worldbuilding.

Me:

Okay so- WOW this is a long ask XDD. This was a blast to read. You rolled with this SO MUCH FARTHER than I anticipated/had thought of my self but all of this is GLORIOUS and I’m just gonna- bask in it for a few minutes. I have no idea if this is canon for Pretty Song verse but it PROBABLY IS because it’s glorious. Okay so-

It’s definitely an ... adjustment period for people and daemons a like, with semi-sapient (or fully sapient if in some cases) new neighbors being a Thing. The kiddos are totally the first to figure these facts out and take advantage because they find three headed fire dogs of death to be cool rather than terrifying.

Daemons are totally instinctive protectors of kiddos. That’s a new thing now. They do it on behalf of Pretty Song.

From there you have researchers like Sania who are FASCINATED by the sudden change and want to know the catalyst and how smart are these new daemons and ohhhhh you like MUSIC okay (Sania ends up spending like- a month in the wilds following this one lone Ronin who gets INCREASINGLY EXASPERATED over this human’s lack of self-preservation until he’s like “screw it this is my human now”.)

Pffffft I love the mental imagery of this. Just- “I found a puppy! Can I keep it?” Said puppy wags its tail as all three heads happily drool lava on the lawn.

I ADORE THIS??? Just- not all daemons were people once, a LOT were animals, but some of the ones that were people wake up with like- patchy memories and they’ve been daemons so long they can’t remember to be distressed that they aren’t HUMAN but- but they remember families and loved ones and so they tentatively trickle back.

And oh boy picture the REVELATION that rocks the world when this starts happening. The realization that some daemons used to be PEOPLE and now they’re coming back. And I’m sure I could make that super angsty but I won’t. Instead we shall all enjoy the mental picture of a little boy who wished on a star for his missing dad to come back one day opening the door to find a Yojimbo crouched there, shyly holding a poorly wrapped present that he promised his son years ago and the kid is like “MOM DAD’S BACK!” And there is much hugging and crying and the happily wearing of his dad’s giant daemon hat.

It’s a really, really good thing that Regis is the king and Pretty Song is his best friend’s daughter, because as soon as this becomes a Thing Regis is there running damage control, passing laws on daemon protections and rights and how to go about properly dealing with them if they actually perform a crime that isn’t straight murder of every daemon in the area, how to test if these are sentient daemons or the semi-sapient kind etc, etc. He knows it will take a while for society to acclimate to the changes, but curse it all he is GOING to have the groundwork already laid out.

The rest of the world thinks Lucis is crazy at first, but then there’s Weskham, happily hiring several Master Tonberry to work as chefs under him in Altissia and it’s WORKING and more and more daemons are waking up from the Thirst even though no one knows HOW at this point so the rest of the world had better get with the program man.

I think the half-turned ones actually revert? Like- they only stay daemon if they’ve been fully converted, otherwise they slowly revert back to their original state as the Scourge loses more and more of its potency. Ardyn is technically a “full daemon” even if he kept his human shape thanks to his healing magic so he doesn’t revert, but he is fascinated when he and the rest of the daemons all seem to take a collective chill pill.

Cor totally gives Noctis a Cerberi puppy as a present btw. He just- he SO DOES. Regis is Not Best Pleased.

I love the idea of nonhuman/human integrated society too! It’s really cool. Tonberry chefs and various aids/adjustments for beings with extra limbs/odd body shapes. Ronin and Yojimbo who work with the Hunter corps, Bombs that patrol towns at night like the neighborhood watchdogs, goblins getting to work in their mines rather than just be bored in them, Naga nannies (or daemon nannies in general because all the reformed daemons in this verse are MAJORLY protective of kiddos)- it’s a fun thought!

Pretty Song has no idea just how big of a revolution she spawned with just some pretty music and a lot of courage XDD.

#SE asks #lark1537 asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Pretty Song verse

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spacemilkies · 6 years ago

Note

Could you do a Ben Hargreeves request where the reader and Ben dated and were in love before he died and the readers always been there for Klaus so they're like best friends but the reader doesn't know that Ben is with Klaus after he dies since he wants her to be able to move on even though he's always gonna love her but obviously it comes out? Like fluff flashbacks to them being happy and in love. I love your writing btw!

title: the wheels go round and round

pairing: ben hargreeves x reader; platonic!klaus hargreeves x reader

summary:

the three of you were like a three-wheeled bike

but then you lost a wheel

its a good thing most bicyles can run on two wheels …

right?

a/n: bless the day to umbrella academy. after months of drought, it rained down 5k+ words on my soul

hope you like!

It was more than just an itch.

When describing the sensation of feeling the departed, Klaus had always summarized the connection to an itch.

But it was more than that.

It was a whisper at times and a shout at its worst.

It was both the burn of a cigarette and the sharp punch of frost.

Klaus no longer just enjoyed life because since the day he was born, he’d been destined to share it. Whether it be someone’s brother, mother or aunt.

He couldn’t simply exist without the obligation of presenting himself as a window to those who have departed. They were tethered to him, mere specters unable to indulge in their own whims.

But more often than not, Klaus felt like the collar was around his own neck. The hallucinations tightening around his throat like a noose.

It was suffocating.

Until the few times it wasn’t.

The moments where Ben was on one side,

and you were on the other.

“Please … Klaus. Not tonight.”

Had he had the energy, Klaus would have rejoiced. In the sea of hell, submerged in a pool of souls, hearing his dear brother’s voice was like breaking the surface.

Regrettably, at times he’d been too deep to begin with. The rapid ascend cracking his chest with aches and muddling the shores of his mind.

Or perhaps it was just the cocaine.

‘Twas all a blur at this age.

Except for his brother.

Klaus had been convinced that his brother’s multiple appendages had followed him into the next life, where they finally joined into one.

One string enough to define the parameters of life and death.

One potent enough where Klaus could almost feel the warmth of his finger tips.

No, this was definitely the cocaine speaking.

Shuddering past the residue, eyes fixated forward despite the obvious request for his attention. He learned long ago that it was much easier to escape the allure of desires that were not his own this way.

Of course, the notion worked better with strangers.

“And what exactly did I promise, dear brother?”

He knew.

Ben only sought him out for two things: loneliness and you.

And the two were often more intertwined than independent.

The phantom steps weren’t quite as soundless when the familiar gait in his memory coupled with reality. With his head bowed, Klaus only allowed himself the view of the restless sneakers planted in front of him.

He would account for deniability for just a little longer. Just until the fog lifted.

Yes, there was one plus to his powers.

No matter how much his brother wanted to launch him into kingdom come with the flick of his very murderous friends, there was just no true density to his physical wants.

“Klaus were going to be late. The recital starts in less twenty minutes. “

And in the other side of town, Klaus recalled groggily of the event he wasn’t suppose to remember. Not only would he be pushing the limits of his rather shallow physicality, but he would also suffer to the sharp keys struck in cohesion to whatever dated classical piece chosen for the night.

He could still hear the thundering notes of the last one echoing off the sides of his skull.

The agony of the preservation of music.

“Klaus!”

“Fuck!” Scrambling to his feet, the disheveled man shakily reached for the wall for balance. A few of his trivial belongings clattered to the street below. At least they were disposable now, there was no way he’d be able to make the trip back down again.

Beyond the determination, there was a hint of sympathy in Ben’s gaze. Despite being forever frozen in time by passing, Klaus felt like he was still growing despite the absence of aging. That and Klaus always had a soft spot for his sixth placed sibling.

Well, shit, there went his small window of deniability.

Smoothing his hands down the tattered and grimy black of his clothing, Klaus snuffed audibly as he looked down the alleyway.

“Well let’s get going then.”

____

“Fucking cmon, man.”

Klaus let out a quiet groan of disgruntlement when he peered around the corner once more. Much like like last three times, funding his brother just as ensnared with his significant other.

Despite his warnings, neither of the couple had kept things chaste. He’s managed to get more than an eyeful of Ben’s wandering hands and exposed skin.

Keeping a timer was a futile attempt.

They were too young to die.

Practically skinned alive by their father for sneaking out again.

Getting caught for it again.

All for love.

Teenage reckless love.

Counting upward, skipping a few useless numbers along the way, Klaus finally decided on a limit and turned back to the pair with a stronger resolve.

“As distastefully envious I am of your abrupt jump from bases so quickly, I’m afraid you’ll deny me the opportunity to try the same in the future if we don’t get going,” he emphasized with a pointed look at anything but the two flushed individuals.

Ben let out an equality frustrated huff and you laughed in turn.

And Klaus…,

Poor Klaus was just ready to end it all.

Ben drew you in close once more for a quick snog, one teetering close to another endless makeout fest without his brother’s grunt.

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, after your classes?”

Your face scrunched in thought, before clearing with recollection and you shook your head,” I have practice tomorrow evening.”

Ben’s bottom lip pulled downward at the thought, but you quickly remedied it with a peck on the cheek and a suggestion.

“But maybe, we can meet at night? At the cafe?”

The question was directed more towards the lingering Klaus, who rolled his eyes.

The gesture met by silence.

Seconds ticking into minutes, until he couldn’t take it any longer.

He threw up his arms in exasperation.

“Fine, you little miscreants. I swear if you two drag me through a teenage pregnancy. I will kill you both and drag your souls into my bedroom to view a true the horrors of entangled lovers.”

“Ugh, I don’t know.”

Rubbing sleepily under the droop of his eyes, Klaus was willing to bet anything as long as it got him back in bed before noon. If someone told him something like friendship was such a binding contract, he would have gladly done without it.

The remaining option of pure solicitude and his family be damned.

Anything less would have had him in bed still.

“Look, Ben will love anything you get him. He’s easy like that,” he quipped around a yawn.

What he didn’t mention was how frankly any of them would take a grain of salt if it came as a gift on their names-day.

Who knew being born without an identity would come without the rest of the joys in the world. But with everything else denied, what was one more traumatized shard of a misplaced childhood.

When he finally returned to reality, he found you standing just under him, your nose barely bringing the line of his shoulder. You were watching intently, in a way that could only be described as expectation.

Ah, you’d said something else hadn’t you?

God, he was just making this much longer for himself.

What did Ben even like?

Surely under all the endless screaming and turmoil Klaus had been present enough to at least learn something impertinent about his brother.

All of his siblings mumble of wants.

A proper life.

A real family.

Friends.

Bringing together all two of his lingering brain cells, he squared his shoulders with a posture of authority. “A music book.”

To his suggestion, your nose twisted into a look of pure disbelief.

Oh, you unfortunate clueless little doll. If only he had the time to introduce you to the chaotic world his brother had created to express his undying love for you.

“A music book, because he likes to understand you. You and that complicated, beautifully musically-inclined brain that he’s so obsessed with. Poor boy is tone deaf, but if he can keep up with you literately, then he’s a happy monkey.”

His lips pulled at the joke that went over your head with no reminiscence.

All that mattered was that his brother would be happy.

You would be sated.

And he could get his ass back to sleep.

Klaus felt like something worse than a train had plowed into him. Which was ironic, because he couldn’t think of much else that would leave his body wriggling in agony.

Just the effort needed to part his eyelids felt like shouldering the weight of cinderblocks. The trials of it all would have been much more terrifying had it only been the first occurrence.

Fortunately, or supposedly unfortunately given his state of health, this was far from the first time that he’d found himself plastered to his brother’s couch. His impromptu visits were really beginning to affect the integrity of the upholstery, he mused as he picked lethargically at the dried flakes of his own spittle.

Not even on his best day could Klaus recall exactly where they’d drug him from this time. He tended to only bare the scorches of hell not the memories of it.

A low rumble of thunder tickled at his consciousness, and his body managed to comprehend the action to find the available window perched just east of his grungy nest.

To find only instant regret as the bright rays began the thrall if his punishment.

No storm then.

Then what was- oh.

“The parents are arguing,” He sang alone and off tune to the accompaniment of two voices just beyond his reach. Despite its size, their cute little kitchen managed manifest acoustics only found in the hazy mists if his shower.

“He needs to go to rehab, Ben! This is getting ridiculous.”

“Rehab isn’t going to cure the voices. “

Understanding the horrors behind why Klaus was such a dysfunctional mess had done nothing to deter your efforts to provide him with solace.

More often than not he found himself drug to recitals and practice performances where you felt the noise would help to overcome the screams.

It may have been a nicer sentiment should he have control of the playlist if songs. He was more likely to fall asleep and face his maker than find peace.

Indirectly he found himself observing Vanya on more than one occasion, however, a Samaritan token that he hoped he could cash in at some point in the future

“So were suppose to just let him keep doing this to him self. “

Oh bless your soul.

Klaus shoulders rolled in a crooked dance as his hand touched the three places out of order to a religion he had no experience dabbling in.

May the big guy or women upstairs truly gift you for your heart.

“Baby, it’s not that easy…”

Well, gift you more than they had when they wrapped Ben up and presented him to you.

Klaus wondered if you recognized the veteran you were when it came to keeping the real monsters at bay.

“You think when this is all over … think I could marry her?”

The question was asked so causally that Klaus nearly inhaled the paper roll balanced between his lips. Ben, this little rascal, hardly missed a second as he reached over to take a puff for himself.

A slow dazed smile curled at his lips, his mind floating up and away in chase of the cloud.

All the while, Klaus nearly died from an abrupt pneumonectomy.

“Sorry, I’d like to dissect this first. When what’s over? Sorry to break it to you, but those powers aren’t going anywhere.”

That was a long dead dream amongst all the siblings. This was their life and they just had to adapt to make the best of it.

Funny, he couldn’t remember if he’d heard that from mom or dad.

Frankly, their mother was an autonomous robot programmed by their father, so he supposed they were one in the same.

He shudders at the visage.

Ben took another long drag before handing the joint back, letting the smoke settle in him before releasing it out into the world. He was becoming such a professional, Klaus almost wanted to cry.

Rolling his head back, Ben caught his brother’s gaze, the same languid grin still plastered on his lips,” I mean the old man has got to die at some point right? Then we’d be free.”

Except the old geezer just couldn’t seem to find the bucket to kick. Klaus had to wonder if he was even born with one.

Maybe that’s why he took everything from them, because he lost his bucket. Since he had to suffered it was only right that he did.

Scoffing, Klaus fell back into the cushions of the couch. Their father dying would just be one nightmare for another to him. While his other siblings lived their life, he’d be the unlikely bastard still hearing dead old dad.

He waved his brother to continue,” So dad dies. He has no more control. Enter your bride to be. What could go wrong ?”

“They could say no.”

The taste of rejection was familiar and thick, a viscous emotion that was contagious in all the worst ways. It was an airborne virus, a bacterial infection- a stigma embedded into the very walls they grew up in.

They’d spent their whole lives being discarded from the inside. How would they handle the same on the outside?

Well Klaus certainly didn’t think that Ben deserved that.

“You’re an idiot. Of course they would say yes.”

And when that lazy smile brightening with the energy of the sun, Klaus thinks, yeah it’ll be alright.

___

Except it’s not.

It’s the opposite of okay.

___

“Did you know he wanted to marry me?”

Klaus looks up in surprise, though somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he shouldn’t. You were equally as expressive as you were aware. To be honest, you had to be to keep up with them.

Just because they were a danger, didn’t mean they weren’t inherently surrounded by it as well.

As fate brought about.

Ben always made sure to keep you on your toes. Scolding you when your back was turned to the happenings of the world. It was done out of love, to protect you from what you couldn’t see.

Your defense when he wasn’t there.

So of course you’d been primed to pick up on little mannerisms and peculiarities. Lately, when the two of you were alone, wrapped up in your lovers nest, Ben often lost himself to his own thoughts.

But naturally that wasn’t enough to support the little investigation.

No, you needed evidence.

The little box hidden behind the bookshelf was more than enough to close the case.

You still had it.

Unsure of what to do with it now. It didn’t seem like a family heirloom, but what did you know ?

The touch of your own hand stroked fondly over the fingers of your left, a quirk of a sullen smile twitching halfheartedly.

“Yeah, I knew. It was so easy to tell with him.”

Ben’s manifestation came as easy as a whisper yet felt like the heavy side of an iron hammer. He hovered between the two of them, uncertainty rooting his presence just short of reaching you.

His face twisted at the sight of your solemn agony as you picked apart the memories of your life together.

“Every recital I kept wonder if that was going to be the day. “

Klaus could only watch it play out, no plausible intervention available in his capacity to offer comfort. The wound was still so fresh and deep with all of them. The two of you together were just barely managing to keep the gape from tearing wider.

“Then I realized, that wouldn’t be his style. He’d probably try to stick it in a milkshake then freak out when I went for a spoon.”

Ben’s broken laugh cracks his chest, rattling like a case of skeletons. Klaus is glad you can’t hear it, the torment of its sound would only plague his nightmares.

“I would have said yes without a ring.”

When Ben reaches for her, Klaus can’t help but do the same. The urge feels like his own, physically, but when his brother lays his hand atop the pile the warmth doesn’t feel like it’s coming from his own body. At the touch, it sparks an array of emotions he’d only once viewed through a one way mirror.

Now he was the window.

Too bad it was already broken.

“I would have said yes to anything.”

____

“Every time. I know you say you’ll see me again, but damn, you really surprise me, Klaus.”

When Klaus draws you in for a hug, its more than instinctual. Its not an ambient desire.

Its a whim of his own, something that he takes his own personal comfort in.

His.

So maybe he’s a little disgruntled, when a third pair of arms joins the embrace.

And maybe, he’s a little smug when you only respond to his warmth, and his alone.

Call it his own payment.

Grinning, you brush away the damp fringe from your flushed cheek. You always called performing a rush. He thought living with Vanya would help him understand that, but it seemed that music lover’s were truly just one of a kind.

“Tell her how amazing she sounded.”

Ben encroaches on the moment again, and Klaus grits his teeth to bare the grin as he recites the words. Sometimes he wonders if he you can hear his voice as well as he can. The two of you always had such a special connection.

It was a shame that death had to be the one thing that built a wall between you.

With a sigh that could double as exhaustion, you leaned back on your heels. The adrenaline of the recital was finally wearing off. All the long nights and endless dance of fingers across the keys had waned down to this moment, and now it was over.

For now at least.

Give or take a few weeks, just short of a month or two and you would be back at it again.

“So … you look … good?” You winced at the delivery but prided yourself on how it didn’t come out sounding like an interrogation. It was so difficult to properly voice your worries when it came to Klaus.

So much had changed over the years.

You thought you would be able to function without the third wheel.

Most bikes ran on just two after all.

But Klaus seemed to need that third wheel in a capacity that you just couldn’t understand. Frankly, there were a lot of things you didn’t quite comprehend and you had practically dated a superhero.

But with Ben it had been not easy but simpler in all the ways that came natural as being together.

Klaus was the opposite in more ways the one.

Yet so explicitly streamlined down the single reason that he wasn’t alone.

He was never really alone.

No matter how often you tried to fill the space with your presence, some skeleton from the past managed to draw him away.

You think thats the one thing you hated most about the house he grew up in. Despite all those people, it had been voided from so much love that it got to the point that he’d let anything in.

And now he didn’t know how to close the door.

He was getting so weathered just standing at the entrance, taking whatever was thrown at him.

Klaus managed his usual exaggerated grin, and you made no comment of how it drooped a the side. “Oh, but thank you my dear. Truly, here I thought no one would noticed how I walked straight off the runway to make it here on time.”

Laughing came easy, even when it was forced.

“Well, I appreciate it. I really do, Klaus. Everytime.”

Klaus lifts his shoulders and let him fall in his own quirky way,“It’s what he would have wanted.”

“Still wants.” Ben’s words drift like a breeze.

You reach for his hand, meaning every word as they cross your lips,“Yeah, well, he had a great brother.”

There was no denying that your friendship had fractured from being on the receiving end of the blow that was Ben’s death. Things weren’t quite as they were, lacking the instrumental piece that his ghost couldn’t be to bridge your worlds.

But it wasn’t broken.

Ben wouldn’t allow it. He kept Klaus alive, pushing him to remain conscious and aware of the world. Even if his brother’s motivations were selfish demonstrations of his own agendas.

At the end of the day, Klaus retained your friendship.

And in a world of apparitions, it was nice to reach for something and have it met half way.

“Yes, thank you. I’m glad he can hear that and my efforts are for naught.”

Ben flittered between the two of you, instinctively drawn into your orbit. Klaus tried not encroach, but unable to not watch as Ben tried in vain to grasp the wisps of your hair. The intentions phased through you without your notice yet Ben’s look of complacence didn’t falter in the slightest.

It’s what he wanted for you after all.

Your blissful unawareness would be necessary for you to properly prefers in a world without him.

Even when he was still there to watch your steps forward.

“We should treat her to her favorite cafe.”

Ben was back at his side, flickering in and out of space with ease. The question snapped Klaus out of his revere and he found himself answering audibly in reflex,“Oh yes, with my limited funds.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion,

“Sorry?”

Klaus waved you off, not having to explain in detail for once or come up with an exuberant tale to mask his insanity. “Oh, not you.”

Your eyes flashed with recognition. Apart as you were, you weren’t as accustomed to Klaus day to day demons. The man who was once a constant in your life managed to fade to the background without your say so. You knew he was doing it out of his own attempts to shield you.

With Ben, you were a proper team, one that could at least attempt to maintain the forlorn sibling. But alone, it felt like you were a mere spectator.

“Is it getting worse? I mean its, always worse right?”

“Not… always,” he trailed off.

“Klaus you cant keep drowning them away the way you are. Its not healthy.”

This really wasn’t how he planned for this evening to go. But you were a lecturer at heart and consequently he was your favorite subject. He had resist the urge to make a face when Ben hummed in agreement. “I know that.”

He looked up at the touch of your hand, trying hard not get to far swept into your altruistic stigma. Without Ben around, he’d managed to do a better job of dragging you into his mess rather than allow you to pull him out.

You were just too helpful.

Always loaning money or your couch to rest on.

Just attending your performances hardly felt like a redemption to all your kindness. Ben certainly felt that way. In Klaus defense, he never lead a very virtuous life to begin with. Besides, wasn’t the point of all this for you to live your own life?

Ben had died, leaving you two to reform a friendship in his absence. Sure, it was the squeakiest wheel but it turned.

You had just as strong of a hand in keeping him afloat.

“Then act like you mean it. I know its not fair for me to simplify something so difficult, but you just have to cut them out.”

Klaus wondered if he’d imagined the hitch in your voice or if Ben had noticed it as well. Your gaze had lowered as you delivered into your speech, hiding away the true emotions festering beneath. Klaus didn’t know what he would do if the sniffling began. He was oh so terrible when it came to managing emotions that were not his own.

Who was he kidding, he hardly had a reign on those.

But you continued on. Your stance growing sterner with every word.

“Let the past go.”

“Forget about them.”

“Move on.”

They were the same words regurgitated from Ben’s own request to see that you moved on properly after his death. He hadn’t wanted you to remain stuck on his ghost, remembering what had been and constantly reimagining what could be.

More importantly, he wanted you to let go of him completely, so that you wouldn’t seek him out in Klaus.

Klaus always found it odd how you never showed any addition resistance to Ben’s ‘dying’ request. Not that he expected you to declare vengeance. But you knew, he was a walking window to the world of the dead. Knew that if he tried enough, he could manifest Ben back to you. But you never asked.

You just smiled and nodded.

Ben pretended to be unaffected, tried to convince himself that it was what he wanted. But Klaus knew he was hurting from the lack of contact. Yearning to use the advantage only his brother could provide.

Wanting.

Needing.

It just wasn’t fair.

“Even Ben?”

Ben was in front of him immediately, his face hardened in the event of Klaus breaching their deal. But Klaus was done with the suffering, tired of making everyone around him feel it too.

At one point in their lives, they were all happy.

And it was time to stop acting like Ben’s absence was the end of it all.

“Ben…”

Klaus expected more tears. Something of a sort of production of dramatics that would call attention to your private moment. He certainly had the theatrics in him to do so. But you were just … quiet. As if hearing Ben’s name aloud had stripped the sound from your voice.

Ben looked at him with chagrin, mouth already moving to berate Klaus’ impulsive decision,” Look what you did- all our progress.”

“I didn’t want to! I just-”

“Ben, its fine.”

The silence that followed was deafening. It took them both a moment more to realize which of the pair you’d called out to. And with such confidence. You’d just included yourself in the conversation as if you’d been there from the start.

As if you’d-

“You knew…”

Klaus somehow managed to add more foundation to Ben’s fractured words. The weight of the realization suddenly splintering the mirage you’d all built together to keep the world spinning. You’d all contributed to the great tragedy in which no one was truly happy.

“That you could see him?” Your shrug was lopsided. The weight uneven as you offloaded your own demons. “Klaus, you can see everyone. Of course, I figured you would seek out your own brother.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Like there were idiots for thinking otherwise.

In a way they were.

“But you never-”

” -said anything?” You interrupted with another sluggish shrug,” Ben made it pretty clear that he didn’t want me to know. The least i could do was respect those wishes.”

You’d do anything for Ben.

Even forget.

Or pretend to, at least.

What would you be, if you couldn’t meet his last request.

Frankly, it was all too much for Klaus, his body shaking with misplaced laughter as the situation settled within him. You truly knew them- knew them both better than they knew themselves. They’d presented a game and got played by it.

Ben was fairing slightly better, daring to even smile a little in muted pride. Klaus finds himself thrown back in time, the same feeling of trespassing establishing within him when Ben reaches out with a phantom hand to stroke your cheek.

Swallowing around the barrier, Klaus narrates helpfully,” He’s uh- stroking your cheek. Or trying to at least.”

For some reason you all laugh, your accompanied by bringing your own hand up to touch the side of your face. You’d managed to find the right cheek without either of their guidance. Not that anyone was surprised anymore.

“I’ve missed you.”

Oh how Klaus wished you could hear Ben. Something you could all agree on. But he played his part, being the voice needed to maintain the connection,” “He misses you.”

When you open your eyes, your gaze is more watery than it had been before,” Yeah, I’ve missed you too.”

Klaus is caught off guard when your hand extends out, fingers flexing. At first he thinks you’d dared to try to reach for Ben, hopeful for a missing touch. But instead he finds your gaze trained on him, your touch as warm as he remembers.

“I knew I could rely on him to keep you alive. “

Ben chuckles fondly,” Damn right.”

You sigh audibly through your nose, giving Klaus one last squeeze before letting go. “Honestly, this is great. I felt so weird trying to pretend like he wasn’t there. Seriously, you two share one brain cell. As long as you’re functioning, it was safe to assume Ben wasn’t far.”

The jib was popular joke of yours when Ben was still alive. The two brothers were a mix of mischief that you rarely managed to keep up with. Together they were a duo, but the three of you were more than a trio.

A unit that sheltered each other from the harshness of reality.

“I’ll take you up on those parfaits now. Maybe a hot chocolate with a shot. I know you’ve got something on you.“

Klaus was going to end up with whiplash by the end of the night with the way this conversation was going. You departed from them with a promise to return as quickly as you could change, leaving the two siblings floundering in place.

“I know I said this before, but your fiancé is strange.”

The way Ben smiles reminds Klaus of the day he decided that he was in love with you.

Ben didn’t even try to correct him.

“Yeah, but we like them that way.”

#Anonymous #the umbrella academy imagine #klaus hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy oneshot #klaus hargreeves x reader #umbrella academy writing #the umbrella academy headcanons

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jichann · 3 years ago

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10/14/2022

raw thoughts madaming typo and grammatical errors. wag na basahin pls. labyu mwa.

—

hi, what’s up? we both have happy rs im so glaaaad. still can’t get you out of my mind.

ilang beses ko na ba subukan mag reach out, tapos hindi natutuloy. im a coward yes. im always scared about why did i suddenly stopped talking to you. that you’re mad (ofc tangina bobo ka ba) na pano ko ba uumpisahan.

it started nung hindi natuloy yung sleep over it was all planned super excited namin but suddenly hindi natuloy due to some reason and afterwards hindi na nawala sa isip ko. like ik na disappoint fam niya even her friends, also hindi ko na alam anong mukhang ihaharap ko.

nasa baguio kami noon, then suddenly bigla akong nag breakdown; if i continue talking with her gusto pa rin ba nila ako ma-meet? galit ba sila? is she mad? and etc. her friends and relatives helps me with my issues and problems tapos just a simple meet up na messed up pa. i really hate disappointment, doon lahat nag start isama pa yung nga threats na guguluhin sila if i don’t stop.

well right after i stopped talking with her, there’s a complete silence. there’s no chaos, walang kahit ano. im just existing. but it’s sad, im sad. i missed them esp the memories; us playing roblox like whole fucking day; movie marathon weird pati detective conan hindi pinalagpas; watch her do online class; talk shit about our exes; mga latest chika maritess duo kasi kami; and lastly her choice of music.

super dami niyang inintroduce na music so potangina kada marinig ko siya lang naiisip ko mhie. also even tho our rs is not that perfect kasi may mga epaloids at the end of the day im happy. or baka ako lang. after some time she’s my totga. i’d rather be sad than keep her with this complicated rs she doesn’t deserve any of this.

fast forward.

after ko mag social media break bcs i stopped for awhile ik myself hindi ko mapipigilan na kausapin siya if hindi ko gagawin yon eh.

ayun nga i started distracting myself mhie and super superrr hindi tama tong ginawa ko. tried to date bois but uhm didn’t work out kasi idk can’t feel any connections towards them.

well good thing lang is nag stop na rin yung epal ferson when she found out im dating guys na. sana diba noon ko pa ginawa para tumigil na siya completely potangina.

and now i met rifle, nakikita ko lang si amber sakanya. all of his past experiences esp sa fam super parehas sila. hobbies din he loves playing online games grind na grind si accla just same as amber. he loves movies and animes din. boy ver lang ni amber. then found out na he’s not like her. super layo.

same with the traumas like her pero ibang way to handle it. he tend to sometimes can’t control himself lalo pag galit but i just listened eventually learned a lot from him. he’s independent and loves to explore. sometimes his perspective is kinda (kinda want to strangle him jk) but i realized diff person diff pov and i started to be open. at first we tend to argue syempre patola si accla lalo pag iba yung pinaglalaban but when i tried to listen his side my point din pala kahit nakakainis minsan. utak niya eon eh anong gagawin q sis.

afterwards i learned how to love him bcs it’s him not because i saw amber in his personality. he once said “siguro pag nagkita kayo magtatagal kayo nun.” and i silently agreed. it’s reallt diff when it comes to her. i replied “tbh if mag hiwalay tayo, kaya kitang iremove kahit saan but not her. pero if she decided to block me i’ll respect it.”

hi, sana okay ka lang lagi. sana healthy kayo lalo na si baby zia she so cuteeee. hindi kayo nawawala sa prayers ko. mahal ko kayo palagi. namimiss ko na si bebe drew. kung galit man kayo or sila magalit lang kayooo issokay. deserve ko hehe. belated happy birthday pala. malapit ka na gumraduate sheesh.

btw jai is super pretty! like im so happi kasi diba u guys r so fineeee. wag na wag kayong maghihiwalay ako taga ship niyo. thenchu sa lahaaaat i enjoyed ever bit of our memories. mwa mwa ily byeee!!

ciao, amber. see you when i see you.

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miss-musings · 8 years ago

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The Similarities between TBL’s Red and Mr. Rochester, a.k.a. A Classic Byronic Hero

Several in the Blacklist fandom, myself included, have compared our protagonist “Raymond (Red) Reddington” (James Spader’s character) to the likes of Edmond Dantes and Mr. Rochester.

The reasoning behind this, other than sharing some parallel plot points (such as being a sailor, being labeled a criminal by his government, going into exile, wanting revenge and/or relief, etc.) … Red shares a lot of the traits of a Byronic hero.

According to the Wikipedia entry for the Byronic hero, various iterations of the character-type are described as:

“a man proud, moody, cynical, with defiance on his brow, and misery in his heart, a scorner of his kind, implacable in revenge, yet capable of deep and strong affection …a solitary figure, resigned to suffering … the “fallen angel” … [with a] violent temper and [capable of] seduction … [has] occasional outbreaks of remorse [that] reveal a tortured character, echoing a Byronic remorse … a remarkable blend of both villain and hero, and exploration of both sides of the Byronic character.”

Here are some other slides I found that give descriptions and examples of Byronic heroes. I take no credit for any of these slides:

Now, obviously, the Byronic hero is a bit fluid, meaning that not every single example of one fits every single characteristic in each description. But, I truly see Red as a Byronic hero. (I bolded all the traits in the description that I think fit him.) The Byronic hero is sometimes seen as the predecessor or primogenitor or at least the “cousin” of the modern-day anti-hero, which Red DEFINITELY falls into. He’s by all accounts a “bad guy” and yet we love him and we want him to win.

But in a recent post, I used the similarities between Red and a very early example of a Byronic hero, Mr. Rochester of “Jane Eyre,” as evidence for why I think Red is the romantic lead in our story, and why he and Liz getting together in some form or fashion (a.k.a. Lizzington) is the endgame.

Looking at it more closely, if we assume that Liz is Red’s love interest, as Jane is Rochester’s, more similarities and parallels become evident:

His love interest works for him in some regard

He is about twice her age

He sees her as his “second chance,” etc. (we’ll dive into that more in a second)

In comparison to the female protagonist and the other characters, he is considered to be very worldly and well-traveled

He travels, in part, to escape both his inner and outer demons

He was previously married and had several trysts and relationships with various women until meeting the protagonist

(Seemingly) flirts with his female acquaintances to make the protagonist jealous

Once meeting her, he becomes completely devoted to the protagonist, and has eyes for no other woman

One thing that has always struck me about Red on TBL is that, while we do get references to him being in relationships and having sex with women in the past, we REALLY don’t see Red engaging in relationships or trysts since meeting Liz in the pilot. Maybe he does it off-screen, and there is that shot of Luli in 1x05 where she walks through the room in one of Red’s shirts… but, other than that, NOTHING! Yes, he flirts. Yes, he makes sexy comments and allusions. Yes, he dances with Madeline seductively and closely in 1x14. But, for a man who admits that he views sex as a drug, and his FAVORITE AND GO-TO DRUG at that, he has been relatively chaste on-screen.

The show clearly has no problem showing couples hooking up so long as its “family-friendly”. They showed Ressler and Samar getting together. They’ve shown Liz and Tom having sexy times on several occasions. They insinuated sexual activity between Aram and his shitty girlfriend. …So, why have James Spader, who once played a character that said “Everything is sex,” be relatively celibate and not get in on the action???

If the show wanted to quell the whole “Lizzington” uproar, all the showrunners would have to do is have Red tell Liz he’s her dad or relative or father-figure or whatever, and then give him a nice, steady, likable love interest. Piece of cake.

Anyway, back to the Byronic hero.

While their backstories differ greatly, Red FEELS and SOUNDS a lot like Mr. Rochester, or other Byronic heroes in general. Like Dantes, he seems to have some kind of elaborate “long-game” of revenge that targets the people who did him wrong but who are also legitimately evil and are doing the world harm; while at the same time, he’s intent on protecting the lives of the innocent. Like Dantes, maybe Red has or soon will become too wrapped up in his mission of revenge and will need others to show him the light.

But, as for his similarities to Mr. Rochester, as I pointed out in the other post, Red has these long, grand monologues about what he has become, who he used to be, and who he wants (Liz to help him) to be again.

(EDIT: I previously had tried to embed videos before, but they didn’t come up on either mobile or desktop, so I’ve just added links to the YouTube videos instead.)

Examples include:

The Ugly Fish monologue in 2x09

The North Star monologue in 3x02

He also tends to wax philosophical about the guilt he feels, and how he is making or has tried to make amends, and how the life he leads has caused him to feel less-than-human, etc.

Examples include:

The “…just a nice gesture” monologue in 2x16

The “I’m a violent man” monologue in 3x12

And because of all this, he feels very much like a wandering, tortured soul… as we learn very vividly from the infamous “Parable of the Farmer” in 1x04.

All of these is, of course, very much like Mr. Rochester from “Jane Eyre.”

Here are some passages from “Jane Eyre” where Mr. Rochester is talking about the woman he loves. At the time, Jane is in love with him, but she believes he is in love with someone else (Blanche Ingram). In reality, though, Mr. Rochester has been in love with Jane since he first met her, and decided that jealousy would be the best way to 1) see whether Jane loved him, and 2) if she did, to make that love grow and become more apparent.

(BTW, just gonna put these two completely random pictures here:)

Here’s the first one, in which Rochester is talking to Jane after she saved him from a fire in his bedroom.

(BTW, the narration is written from Jane’s first-person perspective.)

[Rochester:] “But not without taking leave; not without a word or two of acknowledgment and good-will: not, in short, in that brief, dry fashion. Why, you have saved my life!—snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death! and you walk past me as if we were mutual strangers! At least shake hands.”

He held out his hand; I gave him mine: he took it first in one, them in both his own.

“You have saved my life: I have a pleasure in owing you so immense a debt. I cannot say more. Nothing else that has being would have been tolerable to me in the character of creditor for such an obligation: but you: it is different;—I feel your benefits no burden, Jane.”

He paused; gazed at me: words almost visible trembled on his lips,—but his voice was checked.

“Good-night again, sir. There is no debt, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case.”

“I knew,” he continued, “you would do me good in some way, at some time;—I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not”—(again he stopped)—“did not” (he proceeded hastily) “strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing. People talk of natural sympathies; I have heard of good genii: there are grains of truth in the wildest fable. My cherished preserver, goodnight!”

And, now, in this second passage … this is after Rochester has been (sort of) “courting” Blanche in front of Jane, and Jane and he are sharing a quiet, peaceful moment together after a very strange and stressful night.

Here, Rochester starts talking VERY VAGUELY about the shitty things that have happened to him, how he’s tried to find solace in worldy things and ultimately, only now, has he found happiness and peace with the woman he loves. Jane ~assumes~ he’s talking about Blanche, when in reality he’s talking about Jane:

“Well then, Jane, call to aid your fancy:—suppose you were no longer a girl well reared and disciplined, but a wild boy indulged from childhood upwards; imagine yourself in a remote foreign land; conceive that you there commit a capital error, no matter of what nature or from what motives, but one whose consequences must follow you through life and taint all your existence. Mind, I don’t say a crime; I am not speaking of shedding of blood or any other guilty act, which might make the perpetrator amenable to the law: my word is error. The results of what you have done become in time to you utterly insupportable; you take measures to obtain relief: unusual measures, but neither unlawful nor culpable. Still you are miserable; for hope has quitted you on the very confines of life: your sun at noon darkens in an eclipse, which you feel will not leave it till the time of setting. Bitter and base associations have become the sole food of your memory: you wander here and there, seeking rest in exile: happiness in pleasure—I mean in heartless, sensual pleasure—such as dulls intellect and blights feeling. Heart-weary and soul-withered, you come home after years of voluntary banishment: you make a new acquaintance—how or where no matter: you find in this stranger much of the good and bright qualities which you have sought for twenty years, and never before encountered; and they are all fresh, healthy, without soil and without taint. Such society revives, regenerates: you feel better days come back—higher wishes, purer feelings; you desire to recommence your life, and to spend what remains to you of days in a way more worthy of an immortal being. To attain this end, are you justified in overleaping an obstacle of custom—a mere conventional impediment which neither your conscience sanctifies nor your judgment approves?…

“Is the wandering and sinful, but now rest-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring the world’s opinion, in order to attach to him for ever this gentle, gracious, genial stranger, thereby securing his own peace of mind and regeneration of life?”

“Sir,” I answered, “a wanderer’s repose or a sinner’s reformation should never depend on a fellow-creature. Men and women die; philosophers falter in wisdom, and Christians in goodness: if any one you know has suffered and erred, let him look higher than his equals for strength to amend and solace to heal.”

“But the instrument—the instrument! God, who does the work, ordains the instrument. I have myself—I tell it you without parable—been a worldly, dissipated, restless man; and I believe I have found the instrument for my cure in—”

He paused: the birds went on carolling, the leaves lightly rustling. I almost wondered they did not check their songs and whispers to catch the suspended revelation; but they would have had to wait many minutes—so long was the silence protracted. At last I looked up at the tardy speaker: he was looking eagerly at me.

“Little friend,” said he, in quite a changed tone—while his face changed too, losing all its softness and gravity, and becoming harsh and sarcastic—“you have noticed my tender penchant for Miss Ingram: don’t you think if I married her she would regenerate me with a vengeance?”

Now…

(SPOILER WARNING FOR JANE EYRE)

What Rochester is ACTUALLY talking about, in reference to what he experienced as a young man, was – about 20 years before the events of the novel – he traveled from England to the West Indies and was convinced by his family and others into marrying a woman whom he later discovered was clinically insane. He tried to live with her initially, but later brought her back to England and paid a servant to watch her and not tell anyone about it, never told any of his friends or other servants he was married, and then runs off and roams about the world for 20-ish years having trysts and trying to find solace where he could. And then – after he meets Jane – he tries to marry her without informing her that he’s already married.

So, after Jane finds out during the ceremony – through the providence of someone outing Rochester for his treachery – the two have a discussion about where their relationship will go from here. Rochester wants to “marry” her or at least have her live with him, away from people; but, she’s not down for it. This is what he says as part of his long-ass explanation as to why he did what he did:

“Then you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. … After a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, I have for the first time found what I can truly love—I have found you. You are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel. I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

Just in these four phrases I bolded from Rochester’s monologue to Jane about what he did, I saw parallels to four very notable Red quotes: (in order) when he tells Fitch “you cannot possibly fathom how deep that well of my truly goes” in reference to his desire to protect the things and people he loves in 1x20; the “I have you” in 1x03; his description of Liz to Sam in 1x08; and the “love is having no control” moment in 2x08.

(End of Spoiler Warning)

This is all a very long way of saying that I have no idea whether the writers intended for Red to have parallels to the Byronic hero or to Mr. Rochester specifically.

But, he does.

Red is clearly keeping secrets from Liz the way Rochester kept them from Jane. We’re not yet sure what these secrets are (many, including myself, believe it’s that he stole the identity of Raymond Reddington, who is Liz’s biological father).

And, despite a very large age gap, these two have been set-up as the romantic couple of our show, as Rochester and Jane were. Right now (in S5a), Liz believes Red to be her dad; and, in Jane Eyre, Rochester remarks to Jane how he’s old enough to be her father. (He’s like 40 and she’s around 18-20.)

And, just as with Rochester, Red is hoping to find some kind of re-humanization with Liz... that she will restore him to what he once was. People don’t say things like that to friends or family members, so it becomes very strong evidence that Red and Liz are meant to be our end-game.

Another quick thing I’d like to point out is that, in the novel, Jane has very few friends, and as of S5a, the only friends Liz has ever had on the show… consistently … are people from work. (And I guess you could count Tom.) She’s an orphan, like Jane. She doesn’t really have anyone to call “family” or “home.” (Other than Tom, but he’s dead now.) In S1 through S2a, we saw how alone and isolated and tricked and manipulated she felt, just as Jane does throughout various points in the novel.

Now, obviously, there are PLENTY of differences. This is a crime-drama procedural after all. Liz is a full-grown woman with a child of her own. She’s not an 18-20 year old governess who has never gone beyond her schoolhouse and childhood home. She’s not completely naive; she’s not completely without family and friends. When compared to Jane, she’s seen and done plenty.

But the fact that Red and Liz have these strong individual parallels to Rochester and Jane, respectively, and the fact that there are so many parallels between them as couples – ie, he’s keeping secrets from her; he’s besotted with her and sees her as his redemption, etc. – makes me wonder whether this WAS intentional to some degree.

Even while many TBL fans have been watching and screaming at the screen, “JUST SAY HE’S HER DAD ALREADY!” and then breathed a long sigh of exasperation and annoyance when the question was finally answered in 4x22... I’ve been sitting over here with these weirdly intertwined images stuck in my head:

#mr. rochester #rochester #jane eyre #raymond reddington #elizabeth keen #masha rostova #red reddington #james spader #byronic hero #megan boone #the blacklist #nbc the blacklist #charlotte bronte

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certifiedskywalker · 8 years ago

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Tell Me Why - Bodhi Rook - Part Two

Anonymous said:

That Bodhi imagine, (Tell me Why is what I think it's called I have a shit memory) made me cry!!! AHHHH it was so good!!1

bookswillfindyouaway said:

That Bodhi imagine was amazing!! Do you plan on doing a second part?

Anonymous said:

Hi honey. Please tell me that you will write 2nd part to "tell me why". I need it right now

A part was coming very requested so I thought, what the hell! (with a little rebelcaptain btw)

Part One

“It’s best not to say,” he said quietly, but loud enough for Bodhi to hear him. There had to be another way for her to live; death couldn’t be the only option. He thought back to Scarif and the blood the Empire had shed. Not an inch of his angry was directed at Y/N, despite her affiliation. Because to Bodhi Rook, Y/N wasn’t part of the Empire, she was a part of his heart.

Bodhi lingered in the room, still watching Y/N as she gave up on escape. She looked around her cell and Bodhi breath caught when she stared in the direction of the viewing window. Her eyes, even from the distance, were still teary and red from crying.

“She can’t see you,” Cassian said when he noticed Bodhi’s unease, “unless she’s a Jedi.” Mon Mothma shook her head with a frown.

“A Sith would partner with the Empire, not a Jedi. Our background research gave us no reason to think she was one.” Bodhi nodded, knowing that Y/N was no Sith but merely a hand of the Empire. A helpful servant of the Rebellion’s, his friends, enemy. Yet there was not a hint of hate in his veins for the girl that showed him kindness in a dark world.

“How should we go about the…” Cassian locked eyes with Bodhi by accident. Bodhi stared at the Captain, silently pleading for another way; but Captain Andor was anything but ready to surrender. Bodhi felt someone grab his wrist, flashing him back to a time he met with Y/N in one of the long hallways on Eadu. They’d often exchange small touches when they saw each other, but now things were different. Bodhi turned his head and met Jyn’s sympathetic gaze.

“We should head out, leave them to question her further if they wish.” Bodhi gave her a sad look and shook his head.

“I’m not leaving her,” Bodhi whispered, “not again.” Jyn’s grip on his wrist loosened at his words. Cassian stared at the pilot with interest. He had never seen such a show of emotion, other than fear, from Bodhi before.

“There’s no other way Bodhi,” the captain sounded sad for his friend. He to had seen the war on Scarif, fought and won. While the war had hardened Cassian into the man he was now, it had done the opposite for Bodhi. The pilot’s softness was more apparent now than ever. Bodhi was about to speak once more when Jyn pulled gently on his arm. The pilot turned and looked at her, he could feel tears behind his eyes.

“Bodhi,” Jyn’s voice was calming in a way. So soothing that Bodhi allowed Jyn to lead him out of the room. Before he made it through the door, Mon Mothma spoke up.

“Nothing will happened until tomorrow at noon. You have until then to say your goodbyes.” Her words sent a chill done Bodhi’s spine, his mind getting dizzy from the thought of not having Y/N in the galaxy anymore.

You slumped against the rock wall of your cell. Your eyes were dry from crying, tears soaking onto your cheeks. Bodhi; his smile would light up your darkest days, those days of killing. When he left, that’s when you learned to live with the things you had done. Accept them and manifest them into who you are. You became death, the tactical torturer of your unit; then the entire Empire. Until another day came around, after the loss of the Death Star, when you heard of a new mission. A mission that could lead you back to the light that had ran away, escaped the Empire’s clutches. It lead you back to Bodhi.

Your ears pricked up at the sound of the door opening. A part of your heart hoped that it was him, the man you cared for so deeply. Instead, it was the man who had interrogated you before. He stepped up to your cage, looking at you.

“Your execution will occur at high noon tomorrow. Do you have any last requests?” You met the man’s gaze. He eyes, once cold, seemed saddened. As if he had just broken a soldier's death to their family. Your gaze flittered down to the floor, thinking of anything to say or request. At least the Rebellion asked such things; the Empire never gave second thought to a decent death. They just killed you without a word.

“May I request an audience with Bodhi Rook once more?” You looked back to him, and found a frown on his thin lips.

“I fear he was in worse shape than yourself, after your talk.” You nodded sullenly, your spirit less bright. Perhaps there wasn’t ever a future for you and Bodhi. It had all been in your head; for nothing as delightful as Bodhi was deserving of yourself. You had caused far too much pain in the name of the Empire, you’d choke out his light. The man before grew nervous at the silence, wandering a little towards the door. You spoke up before he could leave the room.

“Then may I know your name?” He looked up at your face, meeting your eyes. He swallowed hard, as if wondering if he should grant your wish. He seemed to make up his mind as he took a step forward.

“Cassian Andor, Rebellion Captain.” You nodded at the name, it sounded familiar. A name in a file you read long ago, in a torture room far from your cell. You had captured a partner of his and with that realization, the last of your harshness faded away. The Empire wouldn’t care now, since you’d be dead in a couple of hours away. Why not make up for lost time, even if it was just a little.

“Well thank you, Captain Cassian Andor,” you said strongly, “for granting me my last wish. I hope you fight on long after I have gone.” With your final words spoken, you lean back against the wall of your cell; and Captain Andor walked out of the way he came.

“Bodhi,” Jyn spoke softly, “I’m sorry about this.” The pilot nodded at his friend, still trying to piece together everything that had happened. Jyn sat across from him, watching Bodhi as he worked through his thoughts. They were sitting in the base cantina, with two drinks before them. Bodhi hadn’t even taken a sip of his beverage since they arrived.

His thoughts were of what could’ve been. Maybe if he hadn’t gambled with the Empire, Jedha would still be intact. If he hadn’t left, people who were dead now would still be living. Maybe something more would’ve happened between him and Y/N; if only he had stayed. He glanced up at Jyn and wondered if she ever left the same.

“Do you ever wish you did things differently?” Jyn laughed at the question. Bodhi raised his eyebrows at her reaction.

“All the time,” she said finally, “but then none of this would’ve happened. I wouldn’t have met you or Cassian. When I think about that, I’m happy with the way things turned out. I wish more people could’ve lived to feel what I feel now, that’s the one thing I wish was different.”

Bodhi nodded at her words, his thoughts drifting back to Y/N. He shook his head, as if trying to shake himself free from her clutches. To no avail; her smile still lingered in his mind. If that smile ceased from existence, what was his point?

“Jyn,” he whispered, “I need her.” The woman across from him could feel his desperation. A frown formed on her lips as she remembered when she felt the very same way. When Jyn wanted, needed, to see her father again. Then when she did, his was out of her grasp forever. She shuddered as the depressing feeling crawled over her spine. It took time, time spent with Cassian, for her to heal. Y/N was, is Bodhi’s time.

“Then go get her,” Jyn spoke softly. Bodhi looked up from his drink and met her eyes. Her blue irises were full of understanding,causing Bodhi to smile.

“Break her out at dawn, I’ll keep Cassian under wraps. The rest is up to you.” Bodhi nodded as his mind went into hyper-action. If he broke Y/N out of her cell at dawn, he could sneak her onto his ship. He was going to Hoth to drop off supplies for the new base being built there. On the way to the snow planet, he could drop her off somewhere under Imperial occupation. He would just have to be careful.

“Thank you Jyn,” Bodhi said, getting up as he spoke. Jyn smiled softly at him, watching as he left the cantina. As he walked away, she felt something in part of her heart. As if the Force were whispering a truth she already knew, but refused to believe.

“Good bye Bodhi, may the Force be with you.”

You weren’t entirely sure on how much time had passed since your door last opened. It had to be around the early hours of the next day when you heard the heavy metal door open once more. You laid on the floor, unwilling to move despite the unexpected company. Maybe the Rebellion Council decided to move your execute up a few hours, giving you less of an opportunity. An opportunity for what, you weren’t sure. You had no energy to plan an escape, physically or emotionally. You were just tired. Tired of standing up for the Empire’s darkness and tired of searching for the light that had left you long ago. Bodhi didn’t need you in the way you needed him, who could ever need your darkness?

“Y/N!” Your name come out as a distorted hiss, but the face behind the voice was unmistakable. You turned over on your other side and looked up from the floor. Your eyes locked on Bodhi’s face, whose eyes were wide in exhilaration.

“What are you doing here?” You sat up, taking in his face for what might be the last time. Bodhi gave you a nervous smile as he swiped a card through a slot on your cell.

“I’m helping you escape,” your cell door flew open at his words. You stared at him, no cell bars blocking your view of him anymore. He wore a jumpsuit, not one with the Imperial emblem on it. He looked better than he ever did in the Empire. You took a tentative step forward. You had never touched him before, but the feelings were still there. The longing of affection that was banned by the Empire. Your feet didn’t seem to care about the years of conditioning as you walked towards him and into his arms.

His hug was just as you imagined it would be. His long arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to his body. He smelled like fuel, issued laundry detergent, and something that was just entirely Bodhi. After a long minute, Bodhi pulled away from you a little. He looked into your eyes as if this would be the last time

“Let’s go. I have a ship ready.” You smiled, a grin that you thought you lost when you were recruited by the Empire.

“Why are you doing this for me?” You felt his hand take yours as he lead you completely out of your cell. You both walked over to the other door, pushing it open to an observation room.

“I,” Bodhi started, stopping his feet to face you. He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he did. “I need you. Like how a broken ship needs an engineer. You-”

“Kept me going,” you finished his sentence and he nodded. You gazed into his eyes and saw you feelings reflected inside of them. He too carried on with work, the fight, with a hope. When he left the Empire he hoped to create a better galaxy; while you continued on with your own hopes of meeting him again one day. Finally that day had come. You stepped towards Bodhi, gently closing the gap between the two of you.

Your lips touched his like a feather hitting the ground; lightly until finally resting against it. Your hands traveled to his face, cupped his bearded jaw. As your hands moved, so did his. You felt his fingertips caress your arms, pulling you towards him softly. His lips parted as if he were going to speak, but you took advantage of it. You gained control and it sent shivers down Bodhi’s spine. Finally, he managed to will himself away and speak.

“We should get going,” he whispered roughly, “people will start to wake up soon.” You walked out into the hallway and realized that Bodhi was right. It was dead quiet as you made your way to the docking bay. Bodhi lead you to a cargo cruiser, with a red ‘R’ painted on the front. Rogue. He opened the cargo hold and let out a groan.

“They shipped it off already. Someone took my load to Hoth.” You furrowed your brows at him. He buried his face in his hands.

“You were going to take me to Hoth?” Bodhi shook his head and let out a sigh.

“I was going to drop you somewhere under Imperial occupation. Or somewhere safe and away from this forsaken fight.” You grabbed his arm, pulling his hand away from his face.

“I’m not letting you go again,” you whispered. His warm brown eyes met your gaze and you felt your mind travel back to Imperial hallways. Those small moments where your gazes would meet and your heart would flutter. Now you could stare into Bodhi’s eyes for as long as you wanted without the fear of being seen or considered weak in regards to the Empire’s criteria. Now you could hold onto him forever.

“I’m not either,” he whispered and looked back to the ship. He intertwined his fingers with your own and pulled you on board. He let go of your hand only to hold onto the controls as he directed the ship into the atmosphere. You sat beside him, watching as the dawn sky of Yavin 4 faded into the darkness of space.

“So where to?” You turned to look at Bodhi, whose eyes were awaiting your command. You gave him a smile and looked out of the window. The space full of possibilities, live for you and Bodhi to live out together. Dreams that lulled you to sleep during the cold nights of the Empire, now finally come true. You looked back at Bodhi, eyes still on you.

“Far, far away from here.” He nodded with a grin as he engaged the hyperdrive. The stars blurred around the ship, off in the direction of a new life.

“You knew about this, right?” Cassian gestured to the empty landing pad. Jyn curled her bottom lip into her mouth and nodded. The captain sighed and looked up into the now blue sky.

“They’re not coming back,” Jyn whispered as she walked towards Cassian. When she was close enough, she rested her chin on his shoulder.

“I know,” he whispered back, saddened that he didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to his friend.

“Maybe after all of this is said and done,” Jyn started, “we can take off too.” Cassian turned his head to look at the woman beside him. A soft, hopeful smile rested on her lips. Cassian nodded in response.

“Maybe we can.”

#feedback is appreciated #bodhi rook #bodhi rook x reader #bodhi rook imagine #bodhi rook imagines #rogue one #rogue one imagines #star wars #star wars imagines #cassian andor #jyn erso #rebelcaptain

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nastytrashblog · 8 years ago

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Just because

A/n: I was supposed to release the Jinyoung one first, but I already started this one anyways. My first Astro fanfic woo! I was supposed to get this out last week, but I was sick and bed ridden for 3 days. I needed to catch up with work as well. I guess there won’t be any schedule for my fanfics and you’ll just have to put notifs on. I think the first parts of each fanfic will be pretty short, but I promise it will get juicer in the middle. I hope you enjoy! :D BTW this was requested by one of my friends, love you !

Fluff, Cha eun woo x reader, University AU, eventual smut (in a few chapters), friends with benefits.

1740 words

You ducked your head out of the taxi and looked at the giant building that was in front of you. The bright sun shined on your face and the cool breeze blew through your hair. “A new day, a new beginning.” You thought.

“Hey lady!” You heard a man with a heavy accent behind you. You turned around to see your taxi driver holding your bags, “Are you going to take your bags? Or will I have to steal them?”

“No, I’ll take them. Thank you!” You quickly walked to him and took your bags. He snarled at you and drove off leaving a cloud of gas for you to breath in. You turned around and followed the signs to get your dorm room. The whole school was a maze to you, even after the orientation. There were so many twists and turns inside and outside. Although you got to explore the campus a bit more. You noted where the jocks hung out, the nerds had their meetings and where the hipsters chilled just to name a few. Eventually, you found your way to the table to get your key. A blonde caucasian girl who was wearing a typical grunge outfit sat in front of you. She was so smiley that preppiness just oozed out of her, “Hi! Welcome to Carvard, what’s your name?”

“It’s (y/n) (l/n).” She looked up and down her list tracing her finger after each name, “Oh, here you are!” She turned around and took a key out of a box, “Here’s your key.” You took it from her hand and shoved it in your pocket, “Thanks.” you said and forced yourself to smile.

“It seems that you are rooming with a senior. Oh I know her, she’ll be a lot of fun! Well, I hope you have a blast with your 4 years here! Bye bye now!” You walked away rolling your bag with you. She was way too preppy for your liking to the point it was annoying.

You reached the girls dorm rooms and walked down the hall. “Room 248… ah here it is.” You opened your door and saw a girl laid down on the left bed on her phone. Her attention immediately went to you. She jumped up and dropped her phone on the bed and rushed to you.

“You must be (y/n)! I cannot wait to share a room with you! I’m Kayla.” She pulled you into a hug squeezing the life out of you. “Oh great, another one of these.” She let go of you and got the hint that you were faking a smile, “Okay, you’re one of those people. I get it, you don’t like the preppy types, I can be chill.” You nodded in silence and awkwardness filled the room.

“Here, why don’t you unpack and everything and then check out all the clubs and sports? Sounds like a good chance to bond right?” You could tell she was trying her best to be friends with you. “Maybe I should try to get to know her. I mean, she will be my roommate for most of my University years.” You rolled your bag to your bed and walked to her, “I’ll just leave my bag here. Let’s go.” She walked in front of you and lead the way, but you could tell she was trying to act chill.

Both of you walked side by side and took your sweet time walking to where all the clubs were. You two got to know each other and you learned a lot about her. She is the type to adjust to the people around her to make them feel comfortable. She is also a huge flirt and could get with any guy she wanted. It made sense, she had the body, the looks, and she has a way of talking to have anyone like her. This is why she’s well known on campus as the “all rounder.” She is every personality mashed into one person, which just made her even more lovable. She is a nerd at heart, yet sporty and active.

“Since I have been here for a year, I know how this school functions.”

“Well, of course you do. I mean, it’s not that hard to know how a University works.” She shook her head and let out a little giggle, “Not like that silly! I meant, the social anarchy, the “food chain” if you will. There are frat houses and sororities here as you may know. Most of them are at the top, just not the nerdy ones. I feel bad, they’re good people. Anyways, you have them. Then there’s us, the regulars. The jocks and cheerleaders who are not in frats or sororities, which is not likely but they do exist, are at the top. Then the art, hipster people, the geeks, the one’s that are always high, the nerds…” you stopped her confused.

“Aren’t nerds and geeks the same thing?” she scoffed and patted your shoulder.

“No! Geeks are the ones who are into video games and comics. The nerds are the brainiacs and always base everything off of science or math. Now, I may I continue?” You let out a faint smile and nodded. She was about to continue talking when someone caught her eye. She freaked out and started to hit your arm.

“Ow! What is it?” She was speechless and pointed to someone. It was a tall figure with wavy hair and in all black. You looked around and almost every girl was swooning over him. You have to admit, he was good looking, but not your type. You had a mischievous look on your face. You found her weakness and teased her, “Aww, does Kayla have a crush on the cute boy.” She immediately covered your mouth with her hand, “Shut up!” You laughed and pushed her hand away.

“He’s a senior okay? I’ve had my eye on him for the past year.”

“Makes sense, ‘cause you know, you went after many guys in that year.” She stuck her palm out jestering you to stop.

“Okay, that is a different story that I will explain later.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled. “What should I do? I’ve never been nervous before, especially when it comes to guys.” You put your hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her towards him, “Just go up to him.”

She squirmed in your grip and hid behind you, “What if he doesn’t like me? What if he doesn’t find me attractive? He’s one of the people who are at the top of the food chain. I can’t embarrass myself! I’ll be a laughing stock and that will go on until I die and never find anyone to marry and I’ll die alone and-” You stopped her rambling by flicking her on the forehead.

“Calm yourself! Just be yourself and talk to him. Don’t over think and just GO!” She took a deep breath and took two steps before she turned around to you, “Do I look like a mess?”

“Just go!” She nodded and walked to him. Surprisingly, he started the conversation. You felt like a proud mom at that moment and walked to where the clubs were. You walked around for a good 30 minutes until you got bored. None of them caught your attention and you walked to the quad. It wasn’t full, but it wasn’t empty either. Some were having lunch, others were playing chess, it was diverse. You could tell who were at the top of the “food chain” and who were just the regulars. You found an empty spot on the grass and laid down. The sky was clear and beautiful. You let out a sigh and closed your eyes. It was only noon time and you felt tired. You didn’t care at this point whether or not you fell asleep. You felt yourself drifting off to dreamland where everything is perfect. Even though you were an adult, you were still a child at heart.

You were walking on the beach, waves crashing on your legs. You felt at peace. No one was around you, no cars to be heard, just nature and the sun’s rays hitting your face. You missed summer vacation, being with your high school friends on a private island that your rich friend owned. You wanted to go back at the time where you knew the people around you, but you also wanted a new start. Just then, in the distance, you heard someone yell “watch out.” *Thud*

You woke up from your nap and felt pain on your stomach. You looked to your left and it was a football. You sat up in anger and picked up the ball. You wanted to pierce a pen inside it and hit whoever threw it, but you contained yourself. You heard footsteps getting closer to you until figure towered over you and covered the sun. You looked up to a man with pale skin, brown eyes, pink lips and a tall nose. He looked concerned for your well being.

“Are you okay?” The man said. You were still mad, and stood up. He was still towering over you. You looked up and shoved the football into his chest.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” you responded sarcastically. Another person came running beside him. He had light brown hair and was a bit shorter than the other one.

“Sorry, he’s not a great catch.” He pointed at him with his thumb. The other boy turned to him angry, “Wha-? Are you trying to blame me?”

“If you caught it, it wouldn’t have hit her.”

“But you threw it too high!” They bickered back and forth forgetting your presence.

“I’ll leave the married couple to fight.” you turned to leave when one of them grabbed your wrist to stop you, “No, don’t leave.” You turned around with an irritated look on your face. The tall one took his hand off and took a step back. “I’m sorry for having the ball hit you.” The other nodded frivolously with a big smile one his face, “Yep, all his fault.” The tall one hit him in the chest and looked at him, “It’s both our fault.”

They seemed genuinely sorry, well at least the tall one, “I accept your apology.” The tall one felt a huge wave of relief and stuck his hand out to you, “I’m Eun Woo by the way.”

#astro #astro fanfic #cha eunwoo #cha eun woo #cha eun woo fanfic #cha eunwoo fanfic #astro fluff #astro smut #cha eun woo fluff #cha eun woo smut

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hotel-oscar · 8 years ago

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FACTS : what I know without a shadow of a doubt happened vs deduction, speculation and/or my opinion.

FACT : December 18th, Sunday - Woke up on corner of Robertson & Santa Monica Blvd in front of Pavilions. I was partially robbed & obviously sexually molested. Also had 1 thin clean cut over left top lip. Like a purposely cut line approximately 1" in length. I was also missing my left earring. It was a black circle and superman symbol on other (I sometimes use that mismatch combo on my left ear only and both matching circles on the right). It’s the kind often referred to as fake plugs so they screw into each other, which in turn makes them more secure and a task to remove so ya, left earring was missing and not on the floor. Otherwise, absolutely no other signs of visible trauma or impact points so I know I didn’t fall on the ground.

FACT : I was missing my wallet, motorcycle key, motorcycle w helmet BUT I still had my A1 leather bomber jacket on, $1+ in coins, 2x collector Swiss Army pocket knives & my black Ray Ban Wayfarer sunglasses. Partial robbery…? I then went into Pavilions’ and bought myself a Tonic Water w the change I had.

FACT : I parked right in front of Abbey and went into Chapel @ the Abbey and bought Bacardi Limon from the tall slender female bartender with the obviously fake English accent.

FACT : Other than feeling confused to how, when & HOW the hell I ended up there, I felt 100% sober & clear minded. This was no surprise to me since I know I didn’t even drink enough to have a buzz. I don’t even remember finishing my shot.

FACT : I thought it weird that NO ONE offered to neither help me nor express any concern. Then when I went back to The Abbey to get my credit card that I had left there, everyone was being rude and giving me the run around and saying come back & just meaner than I have ever recalled them being. They never gave me back my card. I tried from before 7am until noon.

****UPDATE**** They charged my card $40 and it’s a straight up lie. For one, I lost my phone a few days earlier and so I wasn’t sure my balance so I was limiting myself 1-2 drinks max and I always keep my limit. Second, I haven’t spent $40 on a tab since the military and that’s no joke. Besides, I’m 100% positive that I didn’t authorize $40.

FACT : At sundown, I walked miles and miles walking all lit main streets until someone finally asked me if I was ok. It was a homeless woman at a 711 whom I later gave my Air Force Swiss Army pocket knife to as a gift. I was freezing and hungry & she fed me and we huddled together for body heat right outside the 711 doors. When she left, she offered me to go with her but I still felt a danger lurking and didn’t want to put her at risk. When she left, I began looking for a cement or steel trash can bc I was shivering uncontrollably from the cold and needed to get warm. I found one on a sidewalk adjacent to a gas station. I made sure there was no residue gas dripping from the pumps as I walked by them on my way to the trashcan on street. I started that fire for the sole reason of staying warm but also made sure I was being seen on the station’s camera in case anything happened to me bc I had a feeling that someone wanted to make me disappear.

FACT : At no time was anyone or thing in any danger, including myself. Firefighters put it out. Cops (LAPD) showed up after the fire was already out and the firefighters were packing up to leave. It was obvious I was going to get hurt right off the back so I repeatedly told them loudly & clearly that I was a woman. They only got more aggressive and more threatening to the point where I thought that’s it, I’m about to get tazed/shot so I finally yelled, “Ok ok I’m a guy,”– in which they proceeded to tackle me, hogtie, rip my nose back, suffocate me, inject me & beat me. I begged & pleaded for my life forever it seemed bc I couldn’t breathe & that alone was unbearable. When I realized that they were not going to let up, I yelled in Spanish for God to help me and that’s when I got one last sock to the face in which I pretended to be knocked out. I began listening and feeling everything they were doing. I felt my butt exposed while they injected me w something. They had my socks off and had my ankles turned in an unnatural way which w the handcuffs made it impossible to feel anything they were doing to them but the overwhelming pain & fear of breaking like my wrist already felt was. I do however remember the firefighters driving by close enough to make eye contact while I was struggling on the floor before pretending to lose consciousness.

FACT : They tortured me for over 25+ minutes but now actually seemed a lot longer than that and am sure it was. Then they finally put me in a paramedic-like vehicle where not only did they refer to me as a WOMAN but one said, “I wish she’d keep squirming so I could rip her nose back again.” Wtf? Then they proceeded to cut my A1 AF leather bomber jacket into little pieces so I’d never wear it again. Btw, that jacket clearly had my (female) name & rank on front name badge. Then they cut off my white t-shirt and binder which held down my breast followed by sticking an IV down a vein in my throat and opening my eyes and pushing each one so far into my skull that I swore they were gonna poke each out. I’ve never had anyone do these things to me & didn’t know people like that even existed, let alone people that wore uniforms and were supposed to be saving lives. Not enjoying themselves torturing one… I heard them all making little jokes and enjoying themselves the entire time and even when I was walked thru the precinct and booking topless with my breast out in the open (Yet, they were still trying to book me as a male even then!). I remained exposed for everyone to see until I was seen by the doctor in holding in which she said can we put a shirt on him/her. She saw the IV in my throat & asked why the hell they put an IV in me. Even the officer stuttered that he didn’t know why. They x-rayed my wrist bc it was badly injured. I still have no feeling of left thumb and wrist. I still have scars on wrists and ankles from being hogtied with the handcuffs overly tightened. At the time I had blood and swelling at my wrists and ankles from the handcuffs. I also noticed that I was bleeding under one of my middle toes from my left foot & wasn’t previously.

FACT : I reported the rape from West Hollywood as soon as I felt safe and asked for rape kits. Santa Monica Hospital, USC and LA County Women’s Jail. Sheriffs sent SVU investigators to talk to me while in jail. I told them every detail including how I got my motorcycle stolen from right in front of the Abbey and gave them title info in order to find it. The men left their #’s. I called them several times later to find out status and left msgs. I did this from jail and later from home after I was released. I never ever received a call back or acknowledgment and the other # said it didn’t exist. I made sure to keep record of any calls & messages I made to or left them as well as keep the business card they gave me when they came to see me in jail.

{For the record, WOMEN’S LA County Jail was the best part of this ordeal. Not only did they take care of me and make me feel safe and respected me but also the inmates were a blessing to have met. Each inmate made a very special & personal contribution to my heart’s recovery. They all became my friends and I know we all share a special bond and will no doubt see each other again and hopefully work with too. Thank u to every Deputy. U guys genuinely care about human beings and I’m sorry there are Sheriffs that carry guns on the outside tarnishing your priceless contribution to humanity. I’d work w u guys any day.}

________________________________________

FACT : I was in Signal Hill the day before and received a ticket for the motorcycle being parked on the sidewalk. The motorcycle a 1983 Blue Hondamatic had mismatching license plate from VIN on registration. This is bc I have 2 of the same exact bike and often switched out parts between them. I have its twin sitting here at home in pieces and missing its original license plate, which went w the stolen bike. When I finally got home from jail in mid January, I discovered that the titles for both of the bikes that I had put away safely in a box were both missing. I didn’t even have time to fully take in this whole mess before I was conveniently 5150’d for crying on a curb on a street named Cudahy in which HP Police decided to tow my other bike which was simply parked against the curb correctly & not even w key in it. It was towed to Mr. C’s Towing in South Gate. I tried to get it after my VA nightmare but they wanted me to pay $66 per day for something they did illegally. Well, just like my other bike it has a twin so it has the same mismatching plate detail. I still have the title for this one and the original plate on me. Not on the bike they are holding. I also have the original plate for the 1983 Hondamatic that I just learned from its previous owner, the guy I bought it from, that it was auctioned off in January while I was in jail. They said that they had contacted him to demand he pay for the fees that I guess were not recovered w the f***ing auction but when he tried calling them back w his defense the DMV claimed they had no record of the bike’s existence. Can somebody please tell me what the f*** is going on????

****UPDATE**** I can’t seem to get a police report anywhere. I want to know what they said so I can defend myself but they keep jerking me around sending me on a wild goose chase and lying. HPPD first said I was operating the bike impaired but when I brought evidence contradicting that, they changed their story once again. This time they say that they didn’t want to be responsible in case the bike was stolen while I was in the hospital bc God knows how long I’d be there. BULLSH*T. 1st, they 5150’d me which is a 72 hr hold. 2nd, I’m sure I could have easily arranged for a family member to just walk over and get it. No biggie. 3rd, U ARE RESPONSIBLE for it being stolen! Both PD & Towing place keep sending me back and forth to supposedly get something needed which have been lies and the days have added up. Here’s the big whopper though, they hold for 45 days after which they not only send me to collections for the entire 45+ day storage cost but they ALSO auction my bike! Wow, talk about rape…is this even legal??? It doesn’t seem ethical that’s for sure. I know it’s not right in my heart either. I still have faith in humanity. I refuse to believe there are so many evil people around here.

________________________________________

West Hollywood Sheriffs think they can do whatever they want and say and do unspeakable things without any repercussions. (????) Literally think they are above the human race and they have an acute hate for strong women who don’t need men (i.e. Lesbians). As far as I’m concerned, they are domestic terrorists and traitors to our country and God-given rights. If u don’t believe me, I’m sure they have videos. They have a thing for recording everything. Or u can believe me bc I’ve never lied to u and would never want to see anyone else hurt. I rather it be me than anyone else bc I know I was born special & can take more than others and I’m ok. Plus, I took an oath to protect my country against ALL ENEMIES, foreign & DOMESTIC and I meant it & live accordingly. I was born to serve my country and its perfect people. I take attacks on them personally and will be damned if I let them intimidate me into letting them get away with it. Over my dead body and even after that.

I believe martial law should be implemented in LA County with special emphasis on West Hollywood & VA in Long Beach (ER & L1 psych ward), if not ALL Emergency Rooms, Psych Wards & Law Enforcement in the county of Los Angeles.

West Hollywood used to be a safe haven for gay people from all over the country. Now it’s become the fastest way to become a non-reported missing person. I’ve had the privilege of meeting their spirits and the honor of their unwavering love and guidance through my drugging, rape, torture and eventual death. That girl I used to be is forever gone.

________________________________________

The VA in Long Beach has a modern God-complex psychotic Doctor who I lovingly refer to as GPS bc his name sounds like a GPS Navigation brand name. Dr. Magellan?

FACT : I told them I didn’t want to go in the back door. I didn’t feel comfortable & told them I rather go in through the front entrance just like every other 50 millionth time but they were adamant & not budging. I had a bunch of pix w me but mainly of my niece and nephews. Before knocking out I tucked them into my binder like I had been every night. I woke up and found them sprawled all over the bed & floor which was odd & shocking but to make matters worse, 3 pix were missing and that pissed me off. I pulled a fire alarm. Not only did they cancel it on their own instead of the fire department but it also made them pretty angry so 2 guys tied me up to a bed and then each injected a shoulder. I muttered something about the only people that could cancel a fire alarm are the firefighters and was out.

I don’t think anything u guys did was cool. The mystery straight up bite mark was like wtf (and I know u’ll say it’s mine but not only is that stupid as hell but also physically impossible bc of angle it was done).

FACT : Blood & liquid build up on toes by the nails, not being able to account for over a week, being told I’m being given certain meds that we both know damn well aren’t what u said they were, u getting upset w the social worker for not hanging up properly w a public defender and accidentally recording everything u were saying right before I walked in and just all of your bs, GPS. Honestly, I just feel betrayed by everybody there bc I trusted them. I already didn’t trust u bc u always had a smile when u were telling me something that would make my world crumble. I do remember seeing the cameras in the employee meeting room and thinking oh sh*t they are watching me change & sleep?? Then I thought how is that possible if inside the rooms there is not a camera in sight. Still, I wish I would have had a courtesy heads up before getting undressed bc that’s embarrassing/uncomfortable for me to do around anybody.

I also finally realized that not only have u guys been f-ing w my mental health but also that u literally are not one bit interested in really helping me. The same goes to the ER where they watched me have an anxiety attack and didn’t calm me down but instead took detailed notes of whatever fright I was experiencing and even had others come watch and also do nothing except ask that same dumb question, Do u wanna hurt anyone or yourself, all while watching me bawl my eyes out & scared outta my mind seeing whatever it was that was so terrifying but thank goodness u made sure to make a detailed transcript, right?? That still surprises me btw bc I only begin to remember it when u read from it. Weird how u guys remember my dreams/nightmares better than I do. Like how are u able to get inside my head while I’m totally asleep…?? Seriously.

FACT : I always made sure to get a ride to your ER where every time I’d walk in and just ask for someone to talk to. That’s all just a Therapist or someone that could help me relax just by listening and responding like one and not some smart-ass condescending one that belittles what I’m feeling as if I didn’t just now ask for help. I just needed to talk to someone and I’m sure my provider remembers how many times throughout the years I would continuously ask for one-on-one therapy. Every single time I saw u guys I’d ask for that therapy and I practically lived there! Yet, I would be put to sleep & always waking up days later confused of where I was at and then later finding out from the other patients that I was out for days! DAYS! WTF is that all about?? U can’t tell me I’m a drug addict that was doing this to myself bc I know now that is all BS and I’m really pissed about it. U swear we aren’t smart enough to know the difference between the drugs we knowingly put into our systems and the ones u claim are the cause of our perpetual detachment from reality! Yes, u do a good job of keeping us confused so that we accept your BS but eventually something had to give. Maybe my tolerance got higher or maybe I just became immune to your junk. It really is unbelievable how f-ed up u are. I didn’t think there was a cure for what u said I had bc I couldn’t wrap my mind around the perpetual diagnosis u would give me and I’d reluctantly accept even though I hadn’t been doing any drugs. I somehow would convince myself that maybe I don’t remember using (ya right) or someone in my life was purposely drugging me (which made me paranoid) or maybe it was just my guilty conscience from using in the past. I didn’t even consider that u’d be that evil and that your staff would be too naive to question.

I still can’t believe this is happening. So many of my Vet buddies were patients of yours. Some got worse and others I’ve never seen again and no one has either bc I’ve asked. We’re family and we look out for each other no matter what and u know that. It’s unfair that u’d tell the staff to tell me that they were not able to tell me what happened to Izzy for privacy reasons but he had no other next of kin. I was his family and I knew something happened to him the first time I returned to L1 after he was gone and u put me in his old room. I can feel everything and I knew and cried. I’m not saying u did something to him but my last memory of him was me being discharged from there and wanting to say bye but seeing him be tied down to the same bed but not making it easy for your staff. He was in duress and I should have stayed to calm him. I don’t think any of this is funny. Not one bit. I don’t play around when it comes to other people’s quality of life. Heck no and though not all of u guys are guilty, I still won’t return to your part of the hospital and will share that w the Vets I know. There’s nothing u can say to confuse me anymore. I finally feel more like the old me I used to be when I was still in the military. It took more than a miracle for me to overcome this but I’m glad I did and I’m glad u guys were wrong. I’m totally fine and healthy and NOT addicted to any substance or thing. I’m also STILL not a danger to myself or anyone. In fact, every day I get better & better. I had forgotten how good it felt to be sane.

There’s something wrong w u, GPS and I’m sure I’m not the only one that would agree and I’m sure we can count on u to always be smiling when u know ur about to and/or are making someone miserable. U really had me going there which is why I felt no remorse when I turned the tables on u. Just remember, ur the doc and u discharged me regardless of my state and me asking for help. U can figure the rest out.

****UPDATE**** I requested all my medical records from VA. I reviewed my recent 5150 stay in L1. In the short summary they are very detailed on all days except for the 6 day gap of nothing. So I went back to review the entire month of March to see what u put for those 6 days I lost. It’s funny bc u put the same type of very detailed notes for those 6 days. U put my vital signs, exact bowel movements, participation, % of food eaten, etc. Oh u also mentioned that I was temporarily put in restraints and stated the strict policies u have with that like notifying next of kin and 24/7 100% face to face surveillance. Well first off, EVERYTHING u wrote for those 6 days minimum are complete utter BS. Lies. Not only did I find many holes in your detailed fabricated data but regardless of me having to prove anything, u’ve managed to screw yourself. I’ll put it to u this way, u somehow managed to keep meticulous record of not treating me for my said perpetual disorder but also keeping me at that state the whole time. Plus, there were other discrepancies that might seem small but in my case stand out like a sore thumb bc it meant I was 100% not myself in anyway which would be the first in my life since I’m very consistent regardless of my state of mind. So glad the AF & VA keeps records of everything so I’ll let them speak for themselves. U should have paid closer attention to me all these years or just listened to me every time I told u certain things about myself that haven’t changed my entire life. They are important in order to be able to accurately assess and treat me, your patient, medically. I mean, it could mean life or death literally. Either way, u grossly neglected to do that job u swore to do correctly. Add f-ing liar to that. Never mind that u guys also have 100% surveillance in L1 so per your notes, everything in those 6 days should check out at least visually right? Well at the very least for your sake.

I urge everyone to call the jails, hospitals and everywhere to find that loved one and make it known that that person will be missed and looked for and that no one will give up and accept their loss bc they couldn’t live with themselves if they did. Go in person, call or go online to check inmates & arrests. Snapchat and use all & any current social media to record, keep track of, make note of or just have as insurance if anyone is not doing their job, threatening u, putting your life in danger, lying to u or just getting a bad feeling from. They tend to think twice before continuing their disturbing behavior towards u but also letting others know what’s up in case, God forbid, they do harm u. Email all resources & be heard. Email even strangers that might just be in your address book automatically from buying something from them on Craigslist. Serious. Someone, the right person will be listening and that’s all it takes.

FACT : I’m an Air Force Vet who got out in her prime and had nothing less than a stellar career but decided she wanted to be with her family and see their kids be born and grow up. She chose family and chose right. I still have very close ties to my military family and still have the same beliefs I had while serving which is why I will continue to serve, pay or not. I began to transition from female to male but I never intended to change my gender nor name so basically even though considered Transgender, I am just a woman that looks like a dude but I don’t pretend to be and don’t tell others I am. I’m a woman who’s happy looking masculine, as weird as that sounded just now. Ha. Some women get breast implants, others want them removed. Truth is I just rather look this way and it makes me happier than I’ve ever been and the people that love me say that it shows and that makes them happier as well.

FACT : I represent a vast majority of Americans who struggle against all kinds of discrimination and violence and at the hands of everyone, including my own kind. I’m Hispanic, Mexican, Irish & Jewish descent, Woman, Lesbian, Transgender, Gay, Military Veteran, Domestic Violence Survivor, Rape Survivor, Mental Illness, been Homeless. The reason I mention this is bc everything that happened to me can only be categorized as a HATE CRIME because not only did they totally know I was a female all along but there really was absolutely NO NEED to cut my jacket into little tiny pieces AND strip me NUDE topless. That was obviously meant to shame me. Yes, it was deliberate and intentional. They knew what I was and they 100% intentionally meant to hurt me. There’s plenty of evidence to back it up as well. Including the officer’s body cam. I even asked him what that was on his shirt and he told me that it was his body cam.

FACT : If a woman or man or speaking animal says that they were raped. THEY WERE. Who the f*** are u to tell a person, especially a grown-ass one what THEIR body feels. Shame on u stupid women who decided to be the judge of that bc u let rapists of all that are living know that it was ok.

Regardless of u doing unbelievably psycho and amazingly unfair things to me to make me feel like I should just shut up and forget that these things happened to me, I simply can’t. I’m not gonna lie, I really, really considered it and even contemplated moving far away but it always comes back to NO, I’m not crazy. I didn’t imagine this sh*t bc I know the difference between being f-ed up or confused. NO, they will never stop and they will hurt so many more people and I can’t live with that sh*t. I know u f**ks are all working together in some crazy ass levels of authority making it seem like we have no choice but to bend over and take it and believe me, I thought this was too twilight zonish to still be reality but u really do exist. U literally can do whatever u want and have been getting away with it for years. I’m gonna bring an end to that now. I’ve gone above and beyond and even what u can’t fathom to make sure that nmw the truth is known and u guys will not get away with any of it.

Anyways, I was just giving u a heads up of what’s to come and that everything u do (literally) is in our favor and absolutely instrumental in justice. God love us for believing in him and our God given rights. One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and JUSTICE FOR ALL. One Love - God, Family, Country (US).

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oceanotides · 8 years ago

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Sᴄɪɴᴛɪʟʟᴀ

Pʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ

« “Here we go, gametime.”, Yoongi whispered and you watched him adjust his AK 47 at the column he was hiding behind, giving you a thumbs up and a slight, barely noticeable smile.

“Kooks, you need some fresh air?”, you asked tensely, aiming at the doors your rival gang was supposed to come out of, testing what weapon you’d use, “’cause you’ll get a whole lot of it.”

“Y/N, cut it off. I swear to god, I’m going to kill you all if we get out of this alive.”, and again, quiet chuckling was audible through the comm – until the defeaning, irritating sound of the sirens boomed through the streets, shaking through your body as they drowned out everything else. »

ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ: yoongi x reader

ｇｅｎｒｅ：gang!au, thepurge!au, angst, fluff

ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ： mentions of blood and death, a LOT of statements inspired by movies and books, content may be confusing

ｉｎｓｐｉｒｅｄ　ｂｙ： @lets-go-north ‘s the purge vine, lover, fighter and meet me on the battlefield by svrcina, bts x the purge by saera kim, bts // the purge by polarisdreams & bts x monsta x by datjimilly

ｗｏｒｄ　ｃｏｕｎｔ： 8,532

ａ／ｎ： i really recommend watching all the videos and listening to the songs mentioned above - just so you get the vibe!

remember back in spring ‘16 where i had announced i’d write some thepurge!au? no? well, anyways, i’ve finally done it and here it is. be prepared because i didn’t take a second look at it, so there may be a few grammar mistakes. btw, i’m dead, i’ve written this on a single day and the way it ends is kind of awful, so let me know if you’d want me to write an alternative ending and, as always, what you think about the whole story. if anyone even reads that damn long oneshot, lol. anyways, here you go!

A fresh breeze whistled around your ears. The petrichor; the world’s smell caused by the sky crying its eyes out, lingered in the air. The soft rain dampened your face and your eyelashes tickled your eyelid crease as you rolled your eyes and laughed out loud at the joke Jin had just made which actually wasn’t funny at all. Life was more tolerable for a moment.

The small backyard you were sitting in had always seemed calming to you. The high and grey brickstone wall entrenched you and gave you the small amount of privacy you needed whenever you felt like being alone, spending your noons organising your thoughts – in case you found time to do so in between all the things on your to-do list.

The rusty lawn chair Taehyung was sitting in made a nerve-wrecking noise as he got up, walking towards the brick house the backyard belonged to and you thought about following him but thinking about what day it was made you stay in your place, messily scribbling things you thought of as essential for tonight down onto a piece of paper.

Clanking noises which sounded suspiciously like the beverage bottles existing in abundance at the headquarter’s kitchen came from inside, reminding you of how thirsty you actually were and of how you’d need to stay hydrated for the event nearing.

“Tae? Bring me a desperados, will you?”, you called.

It didn’t take long for him to answer with the ‘When will you finally learn that you veritably have your own legs’ that was ridiculously characteristic of the currently brown-haired guy you happened to call a best friend of yours. Consequently you weren’t exactly surprised as he crossed the threshold, entering the yard again with some bottles in his hands.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on getting drunk.”, you said, looking at the seven bottles he was putting down on the small table you, Jin, Jungkook and Namjoon were sitting at. The lemonade he had been holding under his arm in order not to go twice followed suit and he fell back into the black chair he had claimed as his.

“Correct”, Namjoon agreed, putting the files he had been reading onto the brown ebony. Some drops of sweat covered his forehead, barely noticeable, yet somehow sticking out to you. It was a unusual hot day and the sun was illuminating the firmament with its last rays – spring was nearing its end and summer was to follow.

“Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin said they’ll be here soon,”, he opened his bottle, the label reading pepsi, took a huge sip and flipped his hair back, “at 6:30, to be exact.”

His eyes settled on you when you crossed your arms and leaned forward, furrowing your eyebrows in thought as you took a sip, too, then focusing on what you had written down till now.

Yoongi, Jimin and Hoseok were a weird trio: one of them was most sarcastic person you had ever met; the other one probably the cutest; yet most dangerous person in this town while the latter managed to be the most positive human being in spite of his job as an assassin. Yoongi was a year older than you and you had become friends in your junior year when the both you were paired for a chemistry project.

Min Yoongi, the most intimidating guy out of all the people in your grade – scratch that, in the whole school. He didn’t even bother to give a shit, neither about other’s opinions nor about his grades that had caused him to repeat the junior year. The only reason for him not getting kicked out was Mrs Peterson, and, to be completely honest, you hadn’t been able to unterstand her back then. Maybe it was his ultra sarcastic attitude she relished – but had that been reasonable?

No, not at all. You hadn’t known him that well and at that point, you didn’t really want to, either. Your brother was his age and consequently shared a few classes with him. From what he had told you, Yoongi was no guy who liked to make friends. “He doesn’t even like to meet people.”, your brother said on a Friday evening when the two of you had been eating dinner together, watching one of your favorite series. You had helped him finish an assignment earlier that day since your parents weren’t home, as usual. But let’s not talk about that.

However, being absent thinking about what you had used to think about Yoongi, you hadn’t noticed him, Jimin and Hoseok entering the backyard.

Only when he draped a black hoodie around your shoulders you blinked, recognizing the three boys. Jimin looked at you with an excited smile on his face which partially disgusted and partially amused you.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Today was different from all the other times the eight of you hung out together. The mood seemed chill but you knew better than that, being close with the boys for more than a year now. What seemed to be joyful actually was gloomy; what seemed to be carelessness was worry about what was going to happen today, about what was going to happen tonight – tonight defined as the period of time starting in less than a hour. Aᴘʀɪʟ 21sᴛ, 7:00ᴘᴍ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ Aᴘʀɪʟ 22ɴᴅ, 7:00ᴀᴍ. America’s 7thPurge was going take place tonight.

You looked at the dark brown haired boy you had grown to respect and like so much sitting across the table, unfolding a map on it. The dimples he caused to show up when he was smiling were a perfect cover for what, who he actually was.

At the age of twenty-one, he was ruling one of the most dangerous gangs in Los Angeles, and whole LA to be honest. Rumors had it that he had cameras installed around the whole city and knew what was happening everywhere before anyone else was even capable of doing something. Of course the whole camera-thing was not true – well, not completely at least. And moreover he was not nearly as hostile as everyone thought, but incredibly smart and powerful instead.

Powerful was his voice as he spoke up to tell you about tonight’s plans, taking a look at his watch attached to his wrist.

“It’s 6:37pm.”, he said, giving the three boys who had just sat down a stern glance, before continuing. “However, we’re left with 23 minutes to discuss and prepare for tonight which is not a lot of time at all so I’ll just wrap it up.

I won’t have to tell you guys that us being a gang of more or less criminals makes us an outsticking target. Adding to that, Taehyungie here has taken it upon himself to defy Dom..inic at school which makes it highly likely for his gang to aim their guns at us tonight.”, he smirked, adding “what I would’ve done, too, by the way.” before making the boys turn toward you who had just pulled everything you’d need onto the table.

Aᴘʀɪʟ 21sᴛ 6:48:34ᴘᴍ, 11 ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs ᴀɴᴅ 26 sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅs ʟᴇғᴛ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ 7ᴛʜ ᴀɴɴᴜᴀʟ ᴘᴜʀɢᴇ

The car ride to the place Hoseok located Dom’s gang to be was as silent as the streets outside, the only sounds audible Jin and Namjoon going through the plan over and over again and Jungkook and Jimin chewing bubblegums while guiding Hoseok through the city.

It was rare to see all the downtown places that were usually busy all day and night deserted like this. There was not a single soul walking on the pavement or hiding in a dark alley. Normally you’d have enjoyed the view – you didn’t like crowded places, but knowing the reason for the emptiness was much less satisfying. Different from most of the people you were out tonight because you had to; and, on top of that, you’d never let any of your friends go out on their own, not tonight.

So there you were, leaning against somebody’s side, nervously playing with the ripped threads of your denim jacket, not caring about how it was just causing the holes to get bigger and bigger; you were just trying not to make up any horrible scenarios that could happen to any of the seven guys you were sitting in the black van with.

You couldn’t afford losing any of them.

“You scared?”, Yoongi’s voice finally broke the heavy silence, sliding into your thoughts as smooth as a feather.

You scoffed in an attempt to seem more relaxed, but there was no point in that, obviously not.

“To say the least. Of course I am.”

He shifted under you, a skinny arm wrapping around your shoulder.

“I am, too.”

There was a short moment of silence (again) before he spoke up again.

“But don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I promise.”

And to be honest, in any other situation you would have believed him, but right now you weren’t sure whether he was saying that to convince you or to convince himself. Yet though something, maybe it was the way he gave you the feeling of being protected by wrapping his arm around you, made you relax a bit.

You were squatting, taking cover in a small alley behind a trash dumpster. Visible in front of you was an abandoned warehouse downtown. The place looked totally rundown, but there were gleaming silver chains latched to the huge doors and you were pretty sure this is the place. You eyed the doors warily as you mumble “Where are we?” while holding your hand to your ear, speaking over the comm system attached to it.

It didn’t take a single second for Jimin to answer as he murmured “I don’t know, but whatever this is, I have a bad feeling about it.”

“Yeah well I’m good. It’s nothing”, Jins voice was dripping with sarcasm so obviously, you could literally hear the drops falling.

You identified the next voice speaking as Taehyung saying, “Oh honestly. Come on guys, it’s not that scary.”

The speakers attached to each and every of LA’s inersections made a somewhat creaking noise.

“Yo Y/N, you’re freaking out over there, ain’t you?”, Namjoon chuckled.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “No.”

“Yeah you are.”, Yoongi and Taehyung agreed simultaneously and you didn’t need to look at their positions on the opposite side of the street and on top of the old cinema to see that they were grinning.

“I said no.”

“Listen, man, it takes-“

“Woman.”, you corrected him.

“What?”

“I’m a woman.”

“Well whatever. However, it takes a grown man-“

“-woman!”

“…to embrace their feelings. If you want to cry, just go ahead and cry.”

Quiet laughter and chuckles were shared through the comm, and, once again, you felt a bit lighter.

“No but listen Y/N, as your friend you know I’m concerned about your well-being –“

“Oh listen can’t you just chill out, man?”, you imitated his habit of adding man to every sentence when Hoseok spoke up.

“Listen guys, I’ve seen some crazy shit but among all the things we’ve done, this is definitely an outcast so let’s just try to keep it as lowkey as possible. And always remember – oh my, honestly Tae? You’re playing crossy road right now?!”

There was a moment of silence and, indeed, the typical crossy road noise of the chicken bumping into a truck - boof! – was audible, making you shake your head as you actually smiled because oh my god, this kid.

“So obviously Tae’s not as tense as me right now, but would somebody mind to walk me through what we’re supposed to be doing?”, Jungkook snapped.

“Oh come on Kooks, this was your plan, you gotta embrace it.”, you said, now finally relaxing and preparing for what was going to come.

“No, jumping off a rooftop onto Domincs – emphasis on Dominic – was not my plan. Taehyung –“

His sentence was cut off by the booming, penentrating bass sound of the speakers you had grown to hate so much and from that moment on, all of your senses slowly returned to you and your heartbeat increased incredibly fast.

Blue light was illuminating the streets as the projection screen at the crossing lit up, displaying the oh-so-familiar text of the purge’s announcement. You unintentionally whispered the words yourself as the cold voice of the woman sounded through the alleys and streets down to venice beach.

“This is not a test.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of ᴛʜᴇ Aɴɴᴜᴀʟ Pᴜʀɢᴇ sanctioned by the U.S Government.

Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ. All other weapons are restricted.

Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ and shall not be harmed.

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

Police, fire and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7am when ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ concludes.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn.

May God be with you all.”

“Here we go, gametime.”, Yoongi whispered and you watched him adjusting his AK 47 at the column he was hiding behind, giving you a thumbs up and a slight, barely noticeable smile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see all of them getting into position – Jungkook and Jimin on the warehouse’s rooftop, Tae on the first door in the parkade next to it, Hoseok and Jin adjusting their snipers and Namjoon putting the black mask you all wore on to cover his face. It had kind of become your special trademark, the soft fabric giving you the artificial feeling of personal privacy and anonymity. You knew it wouldn’t last for too long, the siren had sounded for the 4th time now, 2 times to go. In just a few seconds the streets would be filled with gunshots, screams and, most of all, blood. Even the smallest mistake; a wrong movement or a moment of negligence could be the cause for you to be buried tomorrow. You were aware of the fact that you were slightly exaggerating and just making your heart beat faster and faster, but you couldn’t help it.

The rush of adrenaline pumping through you made you feel invincible and as the siren boomed for the 6th and last time, the doors of the warehouse burst open.

Just to make things more clear, you thought you had been prepared for any and everything possible – fist fights, gun fights, a wild chase – but you definitely didn’t expect Dominic and the rest of his gang to drive a..how to describe it?

The thing they were driving out the doors with resembled a team bus but it was longer and higher and it’s tires were the ones of a truck but twice the size, at least. It’s license plate read 1-800-FUCK-OFF instead of any valid number and, to be honest, you thought of it as a little bit funny, but right now you had much more important things to care about, for example a man covered in black sticking his head out of one of the black mirrored windows, positioning a MG3 machine gun.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.”, you heard yourself saying as you ducked in order not to get shot, “Jungkook, where are you!?”, you screamed, firing your gun once, twice.

“What!? You want me to jump on a fucking killer truck!?”

You considered explaining the situation to him but, seeing how Jimin pushed Jungkook to the warehouse’s edge and then jumped down with him, it wasn’t necessary anymore. More importantly the truck with Jimin and Jungkook on it was threatening to speed away while Namjoon was giving orders. You need to do something, you told yourself before an idea popped up in your head and you cut Namjoon off.

“Namjoon, I’m sorry but we’re going to lose them if we continue hiding like this! I’m going in right now”, you shouted.

In the next second you were jumping over the dumpster, securely landing on the concrete of N Los Angeles St; your weapons safely tucked away in your backpack, the silenced sniper rifle’s material cold against your cheek as you tried your best to stand still and slow your breath.

“Fuck this.”, you sighed in defeat as you angrily threw a stone against the target you were supposed to hit with your bullets. 50 minutes had passed and the bost shot you’ve made had hit the target’s nonexistent hair. Great, even the stone didn’t miss it – but you, attempting to shoot it with a sniper rifle? Never. Never ever were you going to get this.

“Fuck what?”, Yoongi appeared next to you, crooked his head and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for you to answer.

You pointed at the 480 cheytac dangling off your shoulders, to the target and then to you, “all of this.”

“Well, as welcoming that invitation is, I’d rather not sleep with you in a…training center.”

You sneered, “very funny. It’s just that I can’t seem to get a good shot and I’ve been trying for about an hour and ugh.”

“Yeah, well, you have never used a sniper rifle before, either, not to mention a 480 cheytac which is fairly hard to handle.”

“Oh, wow. Yoongi, this is the literal first time you’ve been kind toward me.”, you said out loud. Realising what you had just confessed you quickly managed to continue speaking, “what about shooting that target over there –“, you pointed at one which was pretty far away, all the way on the other side of the gym,”and showing me how to do it?”

He chuckled, “sure.”, and took the rifle out of your hands, his right eye closed as he turned to the side. Despite his character, his looks were …wow, they were amazing. The sharp jawline of his, his pale skin in contrast to his pink lips – a silent swish stopped you from keeping to drool over him and you watched the silver bullet smoothly hitting the target’s brain as he turned to you, the satisfaction of his success prominent in his facial expression.

“Told you.”, he said mockingly; caused you to roll your eyes.

“See, all you have to do is hold it like this.”, he put the rifle down only to take your hands in his, wrapping them around the sniper, aiming at the fake body in front of you. His warm breath tickled the side of your neck as he explained, “control your breath and focus on nothing else but the target.”, he watched you do so. “A sniper is characterized by their few but precious and unerring shots. If you shoot, you have to strike whomever you want to kill or hurt, whatever. There’s no such thing as a second chance – it’s like this all or nothing shit. So stay concentrated.”

You nodded, correcting your aim while you kept your left eye shut. The target’s head was the only clear outline right now, everything else being blurry. The small target cross covered the target’s brain, “now shoot.”,

and with a last glance at whoever henchman of Dominics and Owens gang that was, you pulled the trigger.

It was as though someone had pressed the slow motion button on their IPhone when the tiny bullet hit the shooter’s left shoulder and he fell back into the truck-bus-something. Confidently you threw the 480 cheytac over your shoulder and inhaled. Hoseok’s voice saying “now that was a real shot.” popped up next to you and with a smile shared between the two of you, you started to run.

Turning left and right in order not to get attacked by someone else purging you felt the urge to vomit. Every corner and place your gaze wandered to was decorated with signs of cruelty. It took a while for you to realize that a slogan to your right reading ‘h e a r t b r e a k e r – l o v e f a k e r – n e v e r g o i n g t o w a k e h e r’ had been mistaken for spraypaint by you when it was actually written in the blood by the female body hanging next to it. You were sure the girl must have been beautiful before but now the long, blonde strands of hair covered her face, her once white dress now blood-stained.

Quickly looking to your left as your stomach turned, your gaze fell upon a couple being beaten up by four short men, their faces hidden behind suicide squad masks, their hands swinging baseball bats – wait, were those children?

It was weird; the downtown being this alive when it was basically dead just minutes ago – the silence had been replaced by gunshots and screams and crazy laughter, the streets wearing red.. it was disgusting.

You were about to continue letting your mind rant about everything the Purge did as you turned your head straight once again and, suddenly, the truck was gone. It was just gone. There was no sign of it having ever existed, even when you did a sharp u-turn – there was nothing but other people chasing each other and, out of all sudden, you felt tricked, standing in front of the dead end. You felt scared somehow.

You knew the truck had to be somewhere near you, but there was nothing, the doors of the buildings around you as locked as they had been before. And besides, the truck wouldn’t even fit through any of them.

“What the fuck..”, you murmured, not caring that you were interrupting the heated and breathless conversation that had been going on through the comm system.

You heard Yoongi trying to answer when another familiar voice filled the air with laughter. This time it wasn’t coming from the headset attached to your ear, it was louder and you figured it was coming from a speaker which soon proved itself to be true.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” (GUYYYYYS I’M SORRY I JUST HAD TO INTEGRATE THIS;; DOES ANYONE ELSE KNOW THAT VIDEO?? IN CASE YOU DON’T GO WATCH IT NOW)

By the time you looked up you found yourself surrounded by Hoseok and Yoongi and it took you not even a mere second to recognize the person standing on top of the two-story parkade straight ahead.

You were damned for him to show up here, tonight, and recall everything you had buried under dozens of happy memories and work and assignments and plans and college courses. The last months you hadn’t even wasted a single second thinking about him, you were sure you were over it and, to be honest, you hated admitting that you got emotional right now when it was the literal worst time to get sentimental or caught up in thoughts, just because you saw certain brown eyes boring into yours.

They caused all the memories to come to your mind again. You remembered all the late night sessions where you stayed up late to help him with several assignments and presentations, and on your worst days you did miss him, indeed. It hit you at the most random moments; when you walked out of the house in the morning or when you saw a jeep, or when the midnight air crept through your window and nipsped at your cheeks. Whenever you listened to Cole’s songs you remembered everything he had told you, each and every detail and you wanted to rip off your head. He had never meant anything to you and you haven’t to him, either, you’d tell yourself – and it was the truth. Even though you were hurting when you thought about it, you missed it, but it always ended with you realizing how easy it was for the both of you to throw it all away because in the end, you didn’t care about the other at all, you just didn’t want to be alone.

That was what life was like in high school and you accepted it, yet still, seeing him reopened a door to your past and you hated getting flashbacks from things you didn’t want to remember.

“I see you’ve brought your personal guards. Didn’t know I was so difficult to take down.”, you said in an attempt not to show him he had the upper hand, your head nodding at the people standing on the pavement after they had realized they didn’t have to hide anymore.

You felt Jungkook’s and Jin’s presence behind you and your mind started to fill with relief on the one hand, worry on the other hand.

Chris, or Tej, his name in the business, looked at his henchmen and shook his head, faking a chuckle while anger started to fill your body, “nah, I could take you without wasting a single bullet. These”, he pointed at the assassins positioned on several rooftops, “are for your oh-so-beloved gang leader and the members that actually pose a threat.”

You snickered. “You’re just playing. Are you going to fight or do you want to spend the whole night talking shit?”

Yoongi took a step closer. “Y/N, I’m not saying we’re in danger but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”, he murmured.

“I know,”, you replied, “but I have to do this.”

Gun shots echoed from the walls as Tej shot into the night once, twice; looked at you threateningly. Immediately you felt the pearl handle of your gun in your palm, several clicks of other guns cocking audible behind you. Still hidden behind your back, your fingers curled around the trigger.

Once again, everything else was blocked out by your ears. You knew as soon as the five of you’d lift your weapons to shoot down as many fiends you possibly could, they’d open the fire, too, and more than a few lifes’d be ending soon.

You weren’t exaclty sure who drew his weapon first, but in a matter of seconds you found yourself among a crowd fighting like it was a matter of living and death – quite ironical since it indeed was. Yoongi was standing his ground in front of you. Jungkook hit one of their heads and you quickly looked away, firing your gun here and there as you did your best in helping Hoseok and Jin to keep the steadily raising number of enemies at bay. Luckily, Namjoon and Taehyung soon joined the 5 of you fighting, Jimin appearing out of nowhere taking out men from the top of an empty car. You shot another one into the leg but his companies charged so quickly that you soon found yourselves preferring the methods of a fist fight. A text example of a street fight, your brothe would have said if he were to take part in it.

Eight on you-didn’t-know-how-may was definitely not favorable, you decided as you slammed your fist into someone’s stomach, then looked around in trying to find Tej’s head in the midst of the brutal brawl, immediately regretting it as you earned a punch straight to your previously-injured shoulder and cried out in pain. Little did you know the wound had reopened as you gritted your teeth and blocked your attacker’s view with your hand, easily causing him to fall backwards, afterwards battering him with the handle of your gun.

Oh how much you hated fistfights.

They were way too personal, no doubt, you’d choose a gun over your fist anytime. You were tempted to run and just join Jimin on the car’s rooftop in taking them down smoothly from afar, just so no one important to you was exposed to danger anymore but you knew fully well that, for the next hours, you’d be living dangerously.

Just when you were about to help Namjoon fight off his two attackers a certain green fabric flashed in front of you and without a second glance you recognized the guy dressed in a green bomber as Chris, but that wasn’t exactly what stopped you from fighting.

It was rather the wired box he had left standing on the concrete and the small, almost invisible device in his hand, better known as detonator. Apparently you weren’t the only one who had noticed the approaching danger ‘cause just as you uttered a loud Oh, shit! thin fingers wrapped around your wrist. They were pulling you around the corner and down to the ground, a body promptly guarding you by embracing you close to its chest.

It was then that the detonator was being pressed, the detonation present in a dazzling flash, illuminating the dead end in red, white and yellow; a loud Bang!; the unmistakable, abominable stench of burned flesh and you felt your gastric acid raising in your throat. You wanted to vomit, to cry out loud, break something to cleanse your nostrils from the bloody smell, your hands from the blood covering them; but there was obviously no time for that in view of the hands that pulled you up. You finally recognized your savior as Yoongi when he shouted at you to run since you weren’t out of danger yet but his voice sounded distant, reverberating in your brain. It felt like you had been thrown into a well or something; yet still you followed his instructions, jumped to your feet and ran.

Your body was moving on its own, you yourself completely unable to do anything about it. Looking down to the ground, your red platforms connected and disconnected with the ground, not coming to a halt until Yoongi, who had been holding your hand the whole time, pushed you into a inconspicuous side alley, sliding to the pavement right next to you.

For a minute or two neither of you spoke a word, the air filled with the sounds of two people catching their breath. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to speak, it was rather the fact that you were unable to, both due to shock and exhaustion. You wondered where you were, but there was no point in asking since you both had just ran and ran, without the slightest bit of a plan – which was fine with you, you had just needed to free your mind, yet you didn’t exactly feel lighter.

You let out a noise, a mixture of sighing, groaning and inhaling as you passed your hand over your forehead and turned to your right, opening your eyes to the sight of a battered Yoongi and you sat up straightaway, groaning with pain at the headache you were having.

“You look horrible.”, you managed to say, even though it was a rasping sound rather than a human sound. With shaky hands you reached up to cup his face, your hand tracing the outlines of several still bleeding scars and cuts on his cheeks.

“I could say the same.”, he whispered as he watched you reaching into your backpack for the first-aid-kit you had luckily taken with you, the backpack’s contents now displayed on the asphalt. He let you take care of his wounds and calmed down whenever your fingers touched his skin. The both of you were still panting and you did your best to ignore his hot breath against your collarbone as you reached behind him to adjust his jacket, afraid that he’d get sick given the fact that he was sweating and the air was not just a comfortable breeze.

Acting normal too, Yoongi let his gaze wander over the different items laying in front of him. A comparable huge amount of different ammo, spraypaint, a lighter, a knife, a map, a black hoodie, tissues…what caught his eye was a small, plain black journal, ‘YOUTH’ written on its cover with silver ink.

With you still patching him up he reached for it, palm brushing over the envelop previous to opening it, a small polaroid instantly falling out.

He turned it around, the caption reading oceans and without thinking about it, he confronted you. “Oceans?”, he asked.

You stopped in your action, letting go of his left wrist you had been wrapping up with band-aid. Your eyes fell upon the shiny, small image and you furiously shook your head, a little too fast.

“Rip it. Just – it’s nothing.”, you said, snatching the paper out of his hands and tore it apart.

The two of you were climbing over a fence, again. You had been strolling through alleys and streets and over railways for what seemed like ages, nothing relevant happening. Yes, there were a few not-so-pleasant encounters with people purging, however you were on the same page with not wanting to throw any more punches tonight, instead taking down each purger with one bullet, and one bullet only. You hadn’t talked much, pretty much due to the fact that neither of you felt like it. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company, though. You were relieved you weren’t out on your own and you were quite sure that he was the person you’d most likely choose as a companion tonight, just because…you couldn’t explain it, yet still you didn’t doubt your thought. So you both just walked next to each other in silence and you were fine with that, and, on top of that, you were partially doing it for the safety’s sake. Somewhere between two trains, one of them burning, and voices followed by gunshots you took his hand and never let go of it, not until he started to speak.

“What’s on your mind?”, he said, pushing branches out of his way.

“Huh?”, you murmured, snapping out of your trance to look around and see if he was talking to someone else until your realised that you were pretty much the only person he could’ve talked to, silently cursing you for your stupidity.

“I..”, you kicked a stone, “..don’t really know. Pretty much everything.”

He looked at you, an expectant facial expression prominent on his face, urging you to continue which you never did.

Sighing, he shook his head.

“Listen, I know I’m probably not the person you wanted to be with tonight –“

Oh, if only you knew, Min Yoongi.

“ - Don’t.”

He abruptly stopped walking when you cut him off. “What?”

You smiled, seeing as he was the stupid one now, copying his movements as you shook his head.

“I said don’t.”, you stopped breathing for a second, “’cause you weren’t telling the truth. I’m just worried about the others – you know, leaving them behind was not the right decision.”

You could literally see him rolling his eyes although you were looking to the ground.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that we would have died if we hadn’t done just that.”

“Yeah,”, you exhaled, “I know. But that doesn’t stop me from worrying about them.”

“They’ll be fine.”, he said, clearly avoiding eye contact.

“You’re saying that to convince yourself.”

“Partially.”

The dry branches made a crunching sound when you stepped over them, then you turned left to get to a street where you’d – hopefully – find some kind of a vehicle.

“I simply don’t like the fact that we left them behind with him.”

“So I was right? I knew you knew that fight-obsessed oh-i-am-so-powerful freak.”

You were biting back a smile at the names he called him, “Yes, congratulations. But you were right, indeed, I used to know him, we were..friends?” It was more of a question than a statement, you realised after finishing.

“Well, back then he wasn’t as much of an asshole as he’s now, I guess.”

“You guess? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have befriended him if he was.”

“That’s a point.”, you nodded, then you fished the polaroid out of your pocket. You hadn’t thrown it away yet, you hadn’t had the heart to dispose it yet. Assembling the two shreds, you pulled out the old, rusty silver lighter Namjoon had gifted you at your accession to his gang.

“Funny how pictures never change but the people in them do.”, something in the back of your mind was telling you you had just quoted someone, but that didn’t matter right now, “But that’s just how it goes, you grow older and your best friend becomes your arch enemy.”

Yoongi let out an understanding sigh as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, checking the street before he led you through a hole in the fence that marked the end of the containment area you had been walking on in order not to come across some murderous purgers.

“That was quite poetic.”, he chuckled, “still, it’s the truth. People erase you from their lives because they’re too damn lazy to try and work things out.”

It was then that you both stopped walking and you turned around to face him, making eye contact. There was no real reason behind your actions, but something within you made you take your time to study his face, and, most of all, his eyes.

They were the first thing you had ever noticed about him. The ones he hid under his hair or behind his glasses; he called boring, brown. He always wanted any color, any other pair of eyes except her own. At first you had found it strange, it was a fair contrast to his i-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude; but you soon learned that he cared more about others and their opinions than he’d ever admit. However, you loved them. You loved how they lit up when his brain produced another brilliant idea. When he laughed his happiness wouldn’t be prominent in a smile or a grin, you’d notice it in the way his eyes started to sparkle and dance.

You had stared into them and he had stared right back into yours, like you should have kissed and made love and laughed and hurt together so many times that you didn’t even bother to count it anymore, but you had chosen to stay friends instead. Both yours and his eyes had been glistening back then, yours in tears and his in anger at himself.

And just the same, they’d dull and blur and lose their joyful aura when he was being bothered by something. They were the only thing left of his dark and ugly past, they were hiding something and you were eager to find out just what exactly it was that he was trying so hard to forget.

You were wondering what in hell he must have witnessed that made him the person he was now, you wanted to know what made him so desperate and hopeless that he became responsible for the ugly, knife-shaped scar extending from his artery to his collarbone he made sure to curtain with whatever top or hoodie he was wearing. You had only seen it once, but that was enough for the question persistently floating around in your head.

What happened to him?

It wasn’t the question that bothered and stressed you, it was you being aware of the fact that you’d never be to find the answer. He wasn’t going to open up to anyone, you knew it.

And now you were looking into these very eyes as you took a step forward, his fingers still intertwined with yours. His eyes were overflooding with emotions, mostly dark and sad ones, but so were yours as you both looked at each other with what if’s and could have’s and hearts and souls full of regret. For a moment your gaze travelled down to his red lips, sore as he had been biting them all the time, but then you got a grip on yourself and pulled away, your fingers no longer filling the gaps between his as you, once again, pulled out the lighter, flicked it and watched as the polaroid caught fire, whirling to the ground.

“Geez,”, you breathed, stomping onto the leftovers, “should’ve done that long ago.”

When you turned to Yoongi, his eyes were dull again, no emotion visible, his facial expression empty once again. He didn’t speak a word other than “let’s go” after you had thrown all the other polaroids displaying Chris to where the first one was still smoldering, a small fire developing.

You only shook your head, staring right into the flames illuminating the night, drowning out his words. Everything you remembered was Chris telling you that “beautiful, you’re playing with fire” and you took that quite literally. He was the fire and if you get too close to the fire you’ll get hurt, that’s just how it is.

The smoke was burning in your eyes and stinging in your nose and soon you attempted to turn away and go, but apparently Yoongi bet you to it.

You remembered hearing a “What the fuck are you waiting for?!” that sounded distant in your head and a gun being fired right after. Your head was snapping up and through the smoke you made out a quartet consisting of men, all of their heads covered with – you actually screamed at that – clown masks. Then, a small, silver object – a bullet – was just barely missing your left thigh with a hiss.

It took another gunshot, this time brushing your jacket, which was – thank god – oversized, for you to finally snap out of your stone-like state. You were firing your gun before you even realised that you were reaching for it but it was obvious that you couldn’t beat them since you’d have to reach into your backpack for ammo – in your foolishness you hadn’t grabbed the sniper that was still securely tucked away in your backpack and, with a glance to your right your suspicion about Yoongi, too, having grabbed his handgun instead of something more powerful was confirmed. In any other situation you would have rolled your eyes, but this was dead serious – literally.

So you quickly decided to do what you were best at; you grabbed his wrist and ran. The fact that they were looking like clowns scared the hell out of you and you completely forgot to look where you were going, leaving the route up to Yoongi who stumbled as a bullet brushed his upper arm. In your rush you didn’t waste a second thought on it, suddenly changing your mind as you took the lead again, turning left, right, running down a street before you took a sharp turn into a smaller, barely visible alleyway.

You were about to slump down when suddenly, you were pushed back, the cold brick wall of the building behind you touching your back. Your reflex was to slap whomever was touching you right there and make a run for it but, hell, this was Yoongi pinning you to the wall, one hand at your iliac bone, the other one at your shoulder, his eyes reflecting anger and frustration, but most of all something you could only decipher as worry.

“Do not”, he stopped due to his heavy panting, “do that ever”, now he was licking his lips and all you could think was oh hell, min yoongi, you’re going to be the death of me, “ever again.”, he finished.

You almost thought he was pulling away when he came back with full force. And then, he was slamming his lips into yours in a desperate attempt to convey all he never said because there were simply no words for it and, to be fully honest, he succeeded in that mission. Right now, in this small, hopeless alleyway, Min Yoongi was giving you all you had ever hoped for, you were letting out all the emotions you had bottled up and tried to keep hidden in this one, literally breathtaking, kiss.

And honestly, you could have kissed him all day. You could have swept back his mint, thin and loose strands of his hair from his eyes and spent the hours that were left just like that. Perhaps it was because there was so, so much sadness and pain in his heart, but he kissed like he needed to be kissed, like he was aching all over, and you knew he was. And you were willing to lend him some kind of comfort as you cupped his face with both hands, deepening the kiss as you traced the prominent cheekbones of his.

That you were, in fact, all lovey-dovey instead of hiding on the Purge’s night didn’t seem to get through to you and neither of you stopped until your palm brushed against his elbow and a thick, dark liquid started to cover it.

“Oh my god”, you breathed, panting from both running and the kiss, pulling away. His left sleeve was blood-stained and you didn’t even bother listening to him when he told you that “Y/N, it’s nothing”, instead pushing him down to the floor, all the way while rummaging through your bag, grabbing what you’d need to patch him up.

“The bullet..”, you murmured quietly, repeating it louder when he didn’t answer, “Yoongi, is the bullet still stuck?”

He shook his head with a “No, it was just a graze shot” and you let out a long, relieved sigh because oh, you would have killed him if you had had to take the bullet out. You had done that once and, to be real, it was kind of the most disgusting thing you had ever done. Raking around in the wound was a necessarity and goodness, there was no way in hell anyone’d ever like to do that.

“We’ll have to praise god for our damn luck tonight.”

A deep, silent chuckle rumbled through his chest you were leaning on in order to be in a better angle and you stole a glance at his dark orbs, enjoying the sight of the stars they were reflecting – or his eyes simply consisted of stars, you couldn’t tell.

“I’d love seeing you do that without even being religious.” You groaned, forcing back a grin. “Oh, watch me. You’ll see.”

You dampened a compress with antiseptic and scrunched your face at the acrid smell that started to fill the air with the action of removing the bottle’s cap.

“This is going to hurt.”, you said guiltily, but Yoongi just shook his head.

“Just get it done and over with. And, if the pain’s too much to bear, I’ve still got the gun. You know, just in case.”

He grinned as you hissed and dared him never to make jokes about such serious things ever again. You had almost had an heartattack when you recognised the damage the bullet had done; like he said, it had only been a graze, still, he was losing a lot of blood to the point where you started to wonder how in hell he was still able to crack jokes like that.

Perhaps it was because he had already been going through so much pain that a bullet was just an annoying pain in the ass – nothing more, nothing less. You didn’t know. Still, he grabbed your jacket and stuffed the hem of his shirt between his lips in order not to scream. After all, you didn’t want to be found.

When you pressed the compress to the wound, he silently hissed and you truly felt sorry when you saw the pain filled expression on his face. However, you continued since you knew it’d be best to finish to fix him up as fast as you possibly could, wrapping another bandage around his arm, careful not to put too much pressure onto it.

As you visibly exhaled and turned around to stuff the things you had taken out back into your backpack, he caught your wrist and stopped you.

“No. Just –“, he never finished his sentence, he just opened his arms and right then you couldn’t help but willingly give in, letting go of whatever you were holding and wrapping your arms around his torso. While you were still seated on the pavement he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, so tight that you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. You felt like some cliché girl in a cliché book the moment you breathed in and instead of inhaling air, you inhaled his scent. He wasn’t wearing his blackberry fragrance tonight, but still, despite the iron smell of his blood and the sweat there was something else that didn’t go unnoticed by you and, after a few moments, you became aware of the fact that what you were smelling right now was no cologne or perfume or shampoo, it was just him.

And godness, he smelled good. Like something wild and untamed yet angelic, like the ocean does when the waves crash onto the beach, but not those soft, gentle waves but the bigger ones. He smelled like rain on a hot summer night, like milk and honey when you couldn’t sleep at night, like a thunderstorm you were watching on a balcony. It didn’t made sense at all, but you couldn’t describe it any other way, so you just settled down with not trying to describe but enjoy it instead.

It was weird how his embrace made you feel like home, even though you had rarely hugged before. Your head fit into the crook of his neck better than it did into Chris’, your figures hugged each other more passionately, you were two magnets attracting each other.

His lips pressed against your scalp and you were feeling him smile as he did it, you were filled with a sudden warmth and triumph, for you knew then that he was yours. It was damn cheesy and you were cringing at your own self, but right now, that didn’t matter. And you loved him, and it was something that you had known somewhere within you all the way until now.

Why did you love him?

You didn’t have a set answer for that, but you guessed it was just how you felt around him, how he was never leaving your mind, the vibes he gave you and the laughs you got from talking to him. You loved that you knew him so well that you knew what he’d answer before he even said something, you loved his attitude, his looks, his eyes, freshly-added; you loved his scent, you loved the way he’d never fail to comment something sarcastic and you loved that beyond the cold guy, there was a guy caring for all the people he loved, but most of all, for you. And, as you sat there, a déjà vu from just hours earlier crossed your mind, where you had been sure that you’d never be to find out what he was hiding, that he’d never open up to you, but little did you know he was.

Tʜᴇ Eɴᴅ

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furilia · 8 years ago

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Strange letters from my father

New Post has been published on https://www.furilia.com/strange-letters-from-my-father/

Strange letters from my father

I never do paid posts but I’m doing this one for two reasons. 1) Because I was already going to write about this. Stick with it and you’ll see why in a second, and 2) because the 8th Annual Jame Garfield Miracle is going on and I needed more money to help kids in need and this was a super easy way to do it. So if you’re reading this, you are helping needy children. EVERYONE WINS.

So, StoryWorth advertised on my blog this year and I loved it so much I paid full price to buy one for my dad. Here’s how it works: StoryWorth emails your family member weekly story prompts in the form of questions. They reply to the emails and you get to read their amazing family stories that you never knew existed. Then at the end of the year StoryWorth binds the years worth of stories into a keepsake book. My dad has been doing it for about six months and the emails I get with his answers are so insane and lovely that I often have to call and ask, “Is that true?” Stories about my grandparents and great grandparents that I may never have known are now being shared with family. It is awesome and I highly recommend it because it’s a gift for you and for them. It’s normally $79 but right now (until 1/31/18) it’s only $59 through this link.

The stories my father shares are really too good to keep to myself so I’m sharing a few snippets of my favorites here. You may think they’re strange and terrible but I love and treasure them. I suppose that’s how family stories work though. (BTW, Nelda is my mom. She types the answers as my dad dictates.)

Have you pulled any great pranks?

I was prying something loose one day, and I broke off half the blade of my skinning knife. Stupid! Now the six-inch blade was only three inches long. It was now perfect for prying things loose, but it was also perfect for a practical joke.

We have an electric knife sharpener at the taxidermy shop, and I don’t allow anyone to use it except me. If you’re not paying 100% attention to what you are doing, the high-speed sharpening wheel can throw the blade back at you. Bad news.

I went to my own working area where I hide from the other workers and went to work on my joke. I super glued the tip of my broken knife blade to the inside of my inner right arm. Next I built up the wound area with 2-part epoxy. It’s a product we use in the taxidermy shop like modeling clay to make artificial skin on a mount. I smoothed out the epoxy, texturized it to make it look like my own skin and modeled it to look like that knife is really embedded deep in my arm. I used an airbrush to paint the epoxy area to match my skin. Next I feathered in some white, purple,and red paint to make a realistic cut. Finally I mixed up some blood- red and black paint. I added a little glycerin to give the fake blood a wet glossy look. I poured the blood where it needed to be, and splashed the rest on an old rag that I used to cover the gag.

I staggered into the shop and sat down, not saying a word.

Don was the first to notice the blood. “Holy Crap! What did you do?” Helen came out the office, and I removed the blood-soaked rag to show my work of art. Everyone gathered around me to either gawk or help. Helen hollered out, “Don’t put it out. He’s on blood thinners! He”ll bleed to death!”

No sooner did she say that, Jonathon grabbed the knife and pulled it out. I quickly covered the wound with the bloody rag. I figured the joke was over till Jonathon looked at the knife and screamed, “It broke off in his arm!”

I didn’t get any compliments for my realistic art work. I cleaned up my mess and came back in the shop. I sat down next to Jonathon and asked him if it looked real. He said. “Yeah, I thought it was real……..What are blood thinners?”

What have you changed your mind about over the years?

I use to think that dogs are a man’s best friend, but I’ve changed my mind. Dogs will always forgive you quickly if you ask them to, but they don’t do laundry, they don’t cook, they don’t scratch your back, and they don’t clean house. They are pretty good at doing dishes, as long as you smear left-over gravy over the whole plate.

I use to think that a loving wife would see the humor in that previous paragraph. Dogs will still always forgive you quickly if you ask them to.

I use to think this was funny.

If you could choose any talents to have, what would they be?

I asked Nelda what this question meant. Any talent? She suggested singing, or playing an instrument , or maybe x-ray vision. X-Ray vision might be cool only if it is selective. Some old fat guy crossing your path of vision could ruin your day. A cute young chick could also ruin my marriage. I’ll stick with my near- sighted astigmatism with floaters.

I already sing beautifully. I have that talent even though no one else thinks so. My ears are so good that in my head the notes sound pitch perfect. Self corrective hearing is what I call it.

I might like the talent to finish everyone’s sentences before they could say it. Unfortunately I hang around a lot of people that don’t make a lot of sense. I’m not going to take credit for a bunch of nonsense.

I would like the talent to communicate with animals. I would like to understand their thoughts. Someday I will.

What is one of your fondest childhood memories?

One of my fondest memories is going perch fishing with my mom. When I was about five years old, I got the fishing bug. I couldn’t get enough fishing. My dad had a farm out at Eola, about twenty miles from home. The whole family would pack up before daylight, and drive out to the farm to work. My dad would usually be on his John Deere tractor. My mom would be either building electric fence or picking rocks out of the field. My sisters would be together hoeing weeds. I, being the baby, stuck with my mom. We would work till noon, and then drive to our neighbor’s pasture to have a picnic lunch. A small dirt tank with green water surrounded by large mesquite trees was one of my favorite places to spread out our homemade quilts, and rest in the shade. We would eat bread, summer sausage, longhorn cheese, and drink Cragmont orange soda water. After lunch, I would get out my cane pole. I always saved some of my lunch to use for bait. Those perch would bite on anything, but bread was my favorite cuz it stayed on my hook the best,

My dad would usually sleep and rest while my mom would watch me fish. She was actually watching a five year old kid making sure I wasn’t gonna fall in the water. The fish would bite as fast as you put the hook in the water. They weren’t very big, but I kept anything that had eyes. I even kept a little turtle. When I caught a water snake, my fishing was over.

Have you ever won anything?

The last year that the famous Sam Lewis put on the World Champion Armadillo Races, I won. Actually, my armadillo won. All I did was get behind Army and stomp and holler and chase him across the finish line. I guess I came in second. I released the armadillo back in the woods, but I kept the silver ring. My daughter Jennifer has the ring (I think).

I probably wouldn’t have given her the ring if it was gold.

What inventions have had the biggest impact on your day-to-day life?

The cube is probably the greatest invention of my lifetime. Before the cube, there was really not much stability in my life. Spheres were the rage when I was growing up. How can one build anything on a sphere? No matter how you slice it, you end up with just a lot of wheels.There was hope for wheels in those days, although someone took the idea too far. The whole world revolved around wheels and anything that could be made with them. Donuts were one of my favorites. It was like a wheel inside of a wheel. Clever. But look at a really fat donut from the side. It’s a cube. Give the cube the credit due. You eat a donut from the side, don’t you?

Cubes were the true building blocks of the future. The Egyptians knew this. They even made huge cubes all over their back yard. Then they sliced the cubes diagonally, tipped them over so they would rest on their most stable side, and “BAM”! They had yard art that would last for decades. People would ride by, see the yard art, and ask the age-old question, “Do you think that’s a cube cut in half on its axis, or is that cube half buried in the sand. If someone ever invents the wheel, we could build a big bulldozer and find out.”

Ice cubes. How would you like living in this planet without ice cubes. Sure, there’s people up north that don’t appreciate ice like we do, but what if they want to sit down for a while. Up north, chairs don’t grow on trees, but a big cube of ice would make a wonderful chair. You could probably build a house out of ice if you had enough of it laying around. An air-conditioned house. With an ice box.

I really don’t dislike spheres. After all, a sphere is just a well-rounded cube that likes to travel.

I changed my mind. My favorite invention that has changed my life is a 19 volt battery-operated screwdriver with an extra lithium battery. Made by Craftsman.

How has the country changed during your lifetime?

The country hasn’t changed at all. The cities are all screwed up. I lived in the country when I was a kid, and I live in the same country now. The trees I remember as a kid seemed to be a lot smaller back then. The country roads I use to walk down seem to be a lot shorter when I drive them.

Water skiing, tubing and fishing wasn’t good at all on our local lakes, but I got pretty good at skipping rocks. The trick was to find flat rocks about three inches across. If you could find rocks that were flat on the top and bottom, you were in business. With a little practice, you could get thirty or more skips out of one perfect rock. You could get even more skips if the lakebed wasn’t sandy. When you found that perfect rock, you didn’t squander it. You walked out in the lakebed and retrieved it. Once when I was retrieving one of my dad’s washers (sometimes I used artificials),I found a rowboat. It was a Sears/Roebuck 10 foot aluminum just like the ones in the catalogs. This boat was mine.There wasn’t a drop of water in my new boat, and I started dreaming about all the adventures I would have on Lake Nastywater. (We use to called it Lake Nasworthy, till the water level went down and old tires messed up our rock skipping). I named my boat S.S Minnow. Gilligan’s Island was my favorite after school tv show. I liked Gilligan the best, but Ginger and Mary Ann got a lot better over the years. My Dad enjoyed that show too. I knew he was really gonna get excited when I showed him The Minnow. We walked out on the lake and gazed down on our boat.

“Oh My Gosh! Look! ” Daddy saw my boat. He was excited. He peeled off his sweat stained farmers hat, smiled, sighed, and said something that I couldn”t believe. “There’s my old boat.”

“What! Your boat?”

“Sonny, I lost “The African Queen ” about forty years ago.” I was noodling for yeller cats down here when this was the Middle Concho. You know what noodling is……Catching them with your hands. It wasn’t against the law back in them days. Now, they would throw you in the pokie. I found this big rock right here and knew this was where the big one lived. Right under this rock. Your Uncle Sam, my older brother, was a better swimmer than me ,and he had more experience at catching big fish. Sam jumped in the water, took a deep breath, and went underwater. He came back up about 30 seconds later ,and told me the good news. “There’s a big hole under that rock, and there’s a catfish down in there. His head is as big as a five gallon bucket. As soon as I catch my breath, I’m going for him. My brother, Sam went under. He was down there a long time. He was down too long. I jumped in the water, and found the hole that Sam had entered. I reached in, and found Sam’s legs kicking up a storm. I grabbed his legs and started pulling him out of the hole. It was a struggle,but I pulled him out. We surfaced, and Sam was as white as a sheet. We looked around and couldn’t find “The African Queen”.

We sat up on the rock, Sam caught his breath finally, and told me what happened.”That monster fish was deep in the hole. I was rubbing his belly with both hands. My arms were extended, reaching for his gills. He kept swimming further in the hole. I didn’t realize that the hole was getting tighter, and I was running out of breath. My arms were out in front of me, and I couldn’t push my way out. I was stuck underwater. I was ready to give up when I felt you pulling me out. You saved my life!

We reached down to release our boat from the encrusted mud, and it proved to be a lot lighter than expected. There was no floor in the boat. It had rotted out years ago, but it still held some shared memories for my dad and me.

Uncle Sam and Daddy are both gone now. Maybe they’re floating down the Middle Concho in an old rowboat with a floor in it. Maybe they’re fishing for big yeller cats. They’re not noodling though because Sam promised God that he wouldn’t fish that way anymore.

Do you have any particularly vivid memories of your grandparents?

All of my grandparents were Czech. They didn’t speak English but they were successful farmers. They figured out early in life that to be wealthy, you had to have good discipline. They saved their hard-earned money that they made sharecropping. Then they bought land. They made do with growing their own fruits and vegetables. They raised chickens for eggs and meat. They had cows that they milked daily and butchered their own beef and hogs.They made their own clothes, churned butter, canned produce from the garden, made cheese , flour, cornmeal, and bread. The only thing easy on the farm was falling to sleep at night.

Butchering hogs in those days was a big deal. There was too much work for one family to do all the work in one day. There would also be too much meat and sausage to cure, smoke, and package. The meat from a three hundred pound hog would go bad before one family could eat it.

When the first cold day would come around, all of the aunts, uncles, and third-generation heathens would meet at my grandparents house with all their butcher knives, tow sacks, hog scrapers, seasonings. We were having a butcher day. There was going to be a lot of work and a lot of fun for everyone except two fat hogs.

The women would build a big hot fire under a wash kettle full of water. The men would get the hogs up out of the mud, and wash them off. The hogs didn’t know what was going on with all this special treatment, but I bet they thought they were family and they were being invited for dinner. Smart pigs.

My uncles would build a sled,and then would position our dinner guest close to it. A shot would ring out and an unhappy but short squeal would alert the second dinner guest that now might be the time to cancel his reservation. The relaxing swine napping on the sled would be given a ride to the kettle area. Tow sacks (burlap bags) were pulled out of the boiling water and spread over a portion of the sleeping porker. The scalding loosens the hair on the pig and a dull butcher knife is used to scrape the hair (root and all) off of the pig.

The whole process is repeated on a new area of the pig until the whole hog is as balded as the top of my head. That pig is also pretty and pink like the top of my head.

Now it’s time to gut the clean “organ donor”. The liver, kidneys, and heart are saved. The small intestines are also saved. It was my job to clean out the green juice out of these long tubes. I liked attaching a garden hose to one end and let the water pressure do the work. My job was taken away from me because of the mess I made all over the porch. I think years later Whamo made a fortune with a toy called a Water Wiggle. I guess I was just ahead of my time on inventions, but my marketing skills had not yet been perfected. Sometimes, poop happens.

The rolls of fat from the hog is collected for later use. The ashes from the fire were shoveled into a tilted wooden trough. Water was poured over the ashes and drained into another container. This was lye. The fat is put in the kettle and rendered down to lard. Some of the lard was saved to cook with. It was poor man’s shortening. Then the belly meat and flanks were cut up (with the skin still attached), and the small pieces were fried in the lard. This was cracklins. You eat them hot with molasses and homemade bread. You now have a lot of lard in the kettle. Dump the lye in with some kind of perfume and boil the devil out of it. Let the whole mess cool down and you got soap. Cut the soap into bars with a butcher knife and let it get cold. It will last forever. I think it has such a long shelf-like cuz no-one wants to use it. It stinks, and it takes your hide off with the dirt. It will cure a young boy from cussin .

Cut up the pork chops,cure the bacon, cure the hams and hocks, and start turning the grinder. It’s “SAUSAGE TIME”.

Those casings that were rescued from me are refilled with seasoned ground pork and tied into links. Hang ’em in the smoke house.

It’s now pretty late, and everybody’s tired. We sample the sausage and clean up the huge mess. I clean the front porch.

I give Babuska (Grandmother) a hug goodbye. I smell like the front porch, but she returns the hug anyway. That was sixty years ago, but I can still smell the aroma of fresh baked poppy seed kolaches from her homemade apron.

I still smell like her front porch.

My dad with his sisters and his mother. Wall, Texas.

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