#how he keeps trying to give chas space and peace and a life of his own but relies on him so much he can't let go all the way

[talentforlying]

thinking endlessly about how much chas chandler means to constantine. like that is his best friend, has always been his best friend, someone who will always owe him and whom he will always owe. chas could sell him out to the highest bidder and constantine would never hold it against him. anyone who's done their research knows that to get to him, to find him, all you do is find chas chandler first, because if they're not already together, one call will fix that with no hesitation. constantine has crawled into burning buildings and summoned aztec gods for chas, and he'll do it again. and again, and again, and again.

[kittehkwrites]

Streets

“No Final Fantasy can we end these games though? ” - Doja Cat, ‘Streets’ (2019)

Summary: Trevante finally decides to say something, revealing to you how he feels and it leads to something the both of you only thought could happen in your dreams.

Warnings: Fluff, angst?, smut

Can be read as a stand alone, or as a continuation to Like I Want You

No backing down now. He thought. 

I've been goin' through some things 

I struggle with my inner man 

“I have something that  I have to get off my chest.” He said. 

There was no hint of playfulness laced in his voice like usual. 

No this was serious and it made you shiver.

Trevante couldn’t help but still get nervous around you and it took everything in him to not kiss you again.

The feeling of your soft lips gently caressing his back in shock but with such fluid motion and the current running between you both was something you wouldn’t mind feeling again. 

Baby, we tried to fight it

We all been there some days

“ I like you. Ok? I’ve liked you since we started hanging out more and i got to know you more but

Thought I needed something else

And acted like I was okay

“But I always thought you weren’t interested in me like that cause you’d always call be your friend and yea there may have been a few times of playful flirtin but I figured that just how it’d be with us and i didnt want to say anything when you would talk to me about those assholes you’d go one dates with and clearly didn’t know how to treat you”

We just had to work it out

“If I knew this was how you’ve felt, or what you thought we could’ve saved us so much time and mindless pinding over the wrong people...”

You thought of all the times you went on those dead-end dates with guys that couldn’t hold a conversation to save their life or the ones that talked so much that it irritated you to no end and how you’d go to Tre and he’d be there. Waiting on you with open arms, hanging onto your every word and giving you advice.

That’s why you thought he didn’t feel the same. What man would be so selfless? 

You wanted to leave and try to move on in hopes of protecting yourself when really you were causing more problems and you could’ve potentially caused him to lose interest..

And baby, I needed space

“I’m sorry for trying to basically avoid you at every cha-” 

“It’s alright. I guess you wanted to protect yourself from disappoint like you’d normally be on the receiving end of, but i'm not them and I can definitely say that without a doubt, you’d be my queen and not second fiddle against the juvenile excuses some of those dicks told you back then.” He was right. He’d always treat you so nicely and you misread it as friendly behaviour when for him he didn’t want to run. He wanted to stay out of fear that someone would take you away or treat you in a way you didn’t deserve.

There was a bit of silence between the two of you.

You're pouring your heart out

“we are idiots aren't we?” You both laughed, breaking the silence and it made you both feel lighter knowing you’ve spoke your peace and to have the next person feel the same made you want to float above the clouds even more than you were now. 

“I guess we are, but it makes it interesting.” He said, softly in your direction.

His smile was gracing his face and it made you melt to know that he felt the same and to know that he was there even when you tried to leave, made you feel so dumb to keeping your mouth closed about how you felt and you were sure your friends knew but wanted to leave you both to doing what you were doing incase they were wrong. 

You held me so down

All those nights you’d go to him about those aint shit niggas that wasted your time...

So down I never grew

You didn’t see that as a sign of his attraction. Just as a sign of his friendly nature and you blamed it on your lack of healthy relationships before meeting this great man that you knew no one could compare to.

Yon knew that no one else could hold you down like he did.

I tried to find out

All those guys were nothing. 

They meant nothing like the man sitting next you did in your whole time of having feelings for him but you wanted to make sure that it wasn’t you that was self-sabotaging these short term talking stages or relationships, if you can even call them that.

When none of them came through

But it wasn’t you. You thought, as you looked at his structured face, glancing over every little feature from his eyebrows to the hairs in his beard. They just weren’t him and you knew that now. 

now I'm stuck in the middle

And baby had to pull me out Like you

That night brought on an onslaught of feelings and emotions but you both remained outside until your friends called it a night and he sobered up to drop you back to your place.

The ride was comfortably silent with fluttering glances and the soft music playing through the speakers made you feel safe and right about the future of this “friendship” between you two.

Like you

Over the next few days, you both facetimed, called, texted whatever way you could keep communication open, you both did it and it was like old times again, except you both knew the others feelings and it changed from “friendly” to him essentially courting you in a way you both hadn’t put an exact label on but you both knew it was exclusive and no one could break that apart.

After a few dates and some more group hangout, you both managed to agree on having a “sleepover”, but this time it wouldn’t be like normal ; no friends or interruptions, just the two of you and it made you nervous but excited for the days to hurry past.

The days indeed were passing quickly and you made sure to pack an extra set of clothes and some nice undergarments incase you got the chance to change into it, or you’d have another opportunity to wear it for him and you knew he’d appreciate it with the way he always compliments you and your body when given the chance and it made you even more sure that he was the one that was it for you as he didn’t comment on the weight but when you wouldn’t be noticeably be eating a lot around him because you were worried about your college work and submissions he’d subtly give you food during the shared study sessions you’d have with him and your other friends. Similarly, you’d make sure he was eating when he had finals or a sports event.

You guys felt that bonding and caring was leading towards the formation of something beautiful and stable.

When the day finally came, you told him you'd forget to mention the offsite visit you’d be taking to see an exhibit on african american and afro-caribbean art being held for the month

He was happy that you were happy. 

The way you were gushing about the work you’d see and how the artists all incorporated the ideas of the diaspora, feeling lost but building some form of unity in their situations brought chills to you and the other students that accompanied the tour. 

He loved seeing your pictures that you sent when you got there and when you got the chance, you’d take pictures with the artists and creators.

He knew you’d forget to text him when you reached back to the campus or if he’d need to come get you, to which you’d appreciate seeing as the others seemed to want to stay longer than you had hoped and others had already gone and you didn’t feel like getting in other people’s cars that you werent too close with. 

Could you come for me in the next hour?

You asked and saw the three dots before his text came through.

Send your location.

That was his text to you and you weren’t about to lie and say you didn’t feel the little “flutters” as you pictured him laid up and thinking about you like you were him.

Location sent.

This is it. You thought. 

No holding back. You convinced yourself, mentally as you continued moving around the exhibit to look at the other pieces you didn’t get the chance to yet when you guys were allowed to take a break as they were opening up some of the other areas for public viewing now

Closed mouths don’t get fed and you were hungry you argued as you saw his latest text that he was on his way, wondering where the time went but anticipating the activities you’d both get into.

You began to look around a few more times before making your way to the front of the building after saying your ‘bye’s, nice to meet you’s and see you later’s.

Leisurely walking to the front you stayed in the cool conditioned air of the building, awaiting the man that managed to continuously surprise you with his bold, straightforward nature.

Glad I brought my bag and waxed the other day so no worries about any fuzz being down there, if things went as you’d hope, you thought before opening the glass door seeing the next he was around the corner and then seeing him pull up to the front.

He pulled up to the front of the building as you made your way outside of the facility.

You watched as he got out of the 1973 Chevrolet Impala you would often watch him work on,

or he’d offer to take you in to go on those long drives that would make you think things once you saw him drive with one hand and his seat back.

Like you said, it made you think things.

He came over to you and walked you back in silence.

Damn papa, you a rare breed, no comparing

The cool air brushing over his exposed arms.

The wind carrying his scent that hit you as you slightly trailed behind him, before coming up to the car door and opening it for you while taking your bag and placing it in the back.

And it’s motherfuckin’ scary

He shut both doors and made his way round to the drivers side, getting in and buckling up himself before stealing a quick glance at you as you did the same.

“Ready.” The click of your seatbelt heard before your voice altered him.

He looked over at you, one hand on the gear stick, and the other on the wheel before racking his dark pupils over your shy-seated form. You saw as he but his plush bottom lip before his lips formed a smirk that made your thighs clench.

She better be ready. He thought as he knew that this shy act you had going on was only turning him on more and he wanted to hear that sweet voice of yours yell his name like he dreamed.

Y’all made it back to his and you were met with the warmness and enticing scents coming from within his space. 

“I made your favourite.” He watched you walk in slowly, eyeing you again before waking in the light trail of your perfume and body lotion that left you smelling like candy and he wanted to have his dessert now. 

You were so consumed with what he said and what he’d done that you hadn’t responded. He turned and looked to you as he made his way ahead when you stood frozen at what he had done for you when you thought no one would ever do such a thing. 

Tryna keep him 'cause I found him

“Princess?” There goes that nickname that had you shivering slightly and gave him a chance to openly gaze into your beautiful eyes with a look of confusion at your silence in regards to food.

“Huh? Oh! No! that’s great. I was starving.” You expressed and progressed to his smaller dining room, still shocked at the set up of your favourite laid out and you knew it wasn’t order either because you’ve watched this man cook and always taste tested so you knew you weren’t about to be dissapointed.

“I told you to stop starving yourself. You need me to start bringing you lunches again?” He cared. The fact that this fine, tall, dark and handsome man was willing to come to you and bring you lunch still was getting you all warm, along with the delicious food that was hitting the spot.

This man is bout to get it, you thought before sitting and enjoying the food he prepared.

Both sitting under the dimmed lights and intimate atmosphere he managed to create with what he had, intensified your emotions and the glasses of wine you had with dinner got you to loosen up. 

He didn’t want to force conversation. He was ok with just being in your presence and for that, you knew he was the one and you’d do anything to keep him happy and ‘Let a ho know I ain't motherfuckin' sharing’ (or whatever it is Doja Cat said.) You’d thought as he ushered you to his couch after collecting the plates and placing them in the sink before returning to you.

He saw you and couldn’t help but think about you being his. Like actually his.

I could take you to the parents, then to Paris

Plan a motherfuckin' wedding

Tonight i’m gonna make her mine and there’s no doubt about it. 

He sat so close and for a second, you felt those shocks you felt the night he first kissed you when your legs touched.

You couldn't help but look at him and see the burning desire he had in his eyes. It was the same for him, seeing your deep pools looking at him with adoration and contemptment that he wanted to fall to his knees and beg for your love, even though he could guess you loved him the way he did you. 

You the type I wanna marry (Yeah) and keep you merry

I'll put the ring on when you ready

There was a split second.

Then clothes began to drop around your retreating forms, leading to his room.

The kisses were hard and passion filled. Hands grasping body parts.

Hot skin against hot skin. 

The soft glow of the candle he’d lit in his room providing him with enough light to tell that you were ok with this but he still had to make sure 

“You sure about this babygirl? Cause once we start...I don’t know if i’ll be able to stop.” He voice dropped many octaves and resonated deep in your soul to the point of setting off a gush between your legs that had you mindlessly nodding your head at the man.

“Words Princess.” He gripped your chin and kept that intense eye contact.

“Yes sir.” The name set off something in him and he had you flung across his mattress, head between your legs and hands gripping your thighs while he kept his eyes on your face contorting in pleasure. 

We play our fantasies out in real life ways and

No Final Fantasy, can we end these games though?

He made you cum with a powerful orgasm but you knew he could do better and he knew that he was just warming you up for one of the best nights of your life...besides marrying him and having kids together. 

THAT’S how sure of himself he was that he’d ruin you for anyone else.

Could you blame him tho? He finally has you how he’s been dreaming about and he isn’t gonna hold back in let you know how much you mean to him. He’s gonna make sure you feel his love for you like he’s been saying.

You give me energy, make me feel lightweight (Woo)

He saw you come down enough to get on your knees, staring into his face like he was yours. 

You saw your essence glistening in his facial hair, the moonlight that made its way in and added to the soft glow of the candle made him look like a beautiful shade of blue and near obsidian black. 

Your hands making their way up his sculpted arms, joining at the chest and making their way down his sculpted torso, leading to his happy trail and the prominent tent in his jeans that you couldn’t help but rub your palm against.

“No teasing, Princess.” His voice snapped you out of your day dream of the erect member laying between his thick thighs, encased by the light washed jeans. 

You looked up at him through innocent eyes and you swear you saw his pupils dilate even more, overtaken by lust as he brought his hand up your stomach, corse palms over your delicate skin and thick fingers wrapping around your neck for a tight squeeze before he gently pushed you back onto the bed once he saw you close those pretty eyes and bit your lip at the action. 

Like the birds of a feather, baby

He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed before he started to remove his denim bottoms. Eyes never leaving yours as he pushed his jeans down his muscular legs, taking his boxers off at the same time before standing at attention once kicking them off.

You couldn’t help but look down at the one-eyed monster between his legs and he took notice at the way you looked at him.

He gripped the base of it before calmly saying “Don’t worry baby. You’re a big girl and I know you can take it.” His hand pumping slowly at the look in your eyes and the wetness between your legs. 

He grabbed a condom from the nightstand, rolling it over his tip causing you to let out a whine at not being able to feel his girth in your mouth.

“Don’t worry Princess, you can have a taste later. Right not i want to feel that sweet pussy gripping this fat dick, that alright?” He said a soft voice but it was gruff that it had you getting slick even more at the dominance he had in that moment and the way he put receiving on the backburner. 

You just nodded you head and he got close to you to rub his tip between your folds, lubricating the condom with what you supplied. It was a sight for him that he had to think of anything besides busting in the condom then and there.

We real life made for each other

He made you look at him before pushing into your wet valley. He took his time as you relaxed and felt every hot inch insert itself so deliciously slow.

And it's hard to keep my cool

You weren’t going to lie and say you didn’t like the gentle strokes he was giving to let you adjust, however you knew he wanted to go faster and harder if he was as sexually frustrated as you were from subpar partners.

Cause you’re a one in a million 

There ain't no man like you

It was like he was reading your mind. 

After he noticed you moving your bottom half off the bed to meet his strokes, he grabbed your legs, placing them over your shoulder, not missing a beat and going deeper into your depths.

“Oh shit tre!” He had to let out a breathy chuckle before he felt you grip his dick with your tight walls. That caused his body to jerk even deeper before he could process it and had him releasing a deep grunt you don’t think you’ve ever heard from him before.

“Shit Princess. Got this tight pussy grippin me like this? Who said you could do that?” He was gonna make sure you knew who was incharge in the bed room but you had a surprise for him when you were able to catch him off with the slip of a whispered ‘daddy!’ that made his hips stutter and him lose focus.

You were able to get him on his back, his large member not slipping from your clenching muscles and managed to start grinding on the massive amount of muscle lying beneath you.

“I did. Nigga” You went in after that.

Trevante watched in awe at the way you were taking him, knowing this position meant you’d definitely feel him in your gut if you sat completely over his pulsing, thick pole.

You planted your feet on either side of his hips, hands moving through the wisps of hair sprayed across his chest and switched the pace of your movements.

Up. Down and grind then up again.

He wasn’t going to lie and say that you were riding him like the perfect woman, like he’d always imagine after hearing about the way a woman could trap a man with good sex, he finally believed it with you over him.

That intense i contact was adding to the pleasure for you both and he couldn’t help himself. He brought his hand down on your ass quick and hard before gripping the round flesh in his hands and picking you up to lay back on the bed again before he started to pound into you faster once he saw your eyes rolling back and felt your pussy clenching him even harder.

“You gonna cum on this dick babygirl? Huh?! Answer me and take it like a big girl!”

all you could do was nod your head and repeatedly chant “Yes Yes Yes Yes” even after he finished speaking to you.

You layed under him a blubbering mess but wanting to prove to him you weren’t a punk.

“Cum on this dick Princess. I want to feel that pretty pussy cum all over this -fUCK! THAT’S RIGHT!-yea cum on this dick! Make it yours bitch!”

That word did something for you.

“I’M CUMMING.”

“Then cum bitch.” He whispered into your ear and it ignited the spasms and feeling of pure bliss of release.

He watched you convulse under him and he felt his sack tighten at the way your face looked that he couldn’t take his eyes off yours even for a second.

“Look at me bitch! I said look at me!” He gripped your cheeks between his large hand and got you to face him, seeing your dazed state and then he recognized you were going to cum again.

“You gonna cum again? You like this? Huh?” He waited and raised his leg onto the bed, bending it and forcing your legs to go wider by taking them from around his hips.

He had you so confused in this position. 

You didn’t know if you wanted to run or stay there but you knew it had you cumming closer. Then you felt a smack to the face.

“I asked you a question! Answer me!” His loud voice, deep and all baritone like bounced off the walls at his command.

“Yeees I’M CUMMING!” You responded, equally loud you were sure the neighbours would hear but they should mind the business that pays them you thought.

You were getting the pounding of your life and didn’t want to have to stop because of nosey people calling security to check on the unit.

If they didn’t know what was going on, then that’s tough. But you were gonna make sure you got railed well tonight.

He didn’t know what came over him but he had to say it

“You love this dick baby? You love how I feel inside you?” His voice was still deep but that roughness made you tingle and he felt the flutter of your walls over him

“Yes!” You squeaked out.

“FUCK! I feel that pussy gripping me even tighter!”

He looked at you and you managed to pry your eyes open and stare into his as he said what he felt was right in that moment.

“You wanna be my girl? Huh?” His eyes still held list in them, but there was a softness as he slowed down to ask this, coming closer to you to pepper kisses over your face and embrace you.

“Yes!” You loved the way he felt but you wanted him to go harder so when you pleaded “Harder Tre! Please? I need you to go harder” He fixed his position and granted you your wish by pounding into you harder and faster, his gentle thrusts out the window and your ecstasy written all over your face.

You tried pushing his hips away but he smacked your hands away, grabbing both wrists and coming to you closer and to your ear.

“You gonna cum when I tell you to? You gonna be a good girl for me?” He watched you in pleasure of maintaining his composure and not cumming the first minute he sunk into your velvety pussy that he couldn’t even manage would feel so heavenly as it does now.

“Yes” You sounded so pathetic and it turned you on more than you thought possible at being so dominated but the big heap of dark, thick hefty muscle plowing into you made you feel safe even with his belittling of you but you knew it was only for the sex. 

“Yeah? My girl huh? You’re so pretty under me.” He whined. It was so beautiful to hear so loud into your ear in the close position he was in. 

This close proximity made you feel so connected and had you tearing up a little at the fact you knew he was still being gentle with you and it brought you closer.

Trevante looked down at you and saw the cloudy look in your eyes. He knew you were cumming again and he was right there with you so he let you go and pushed one of his hands between your sweaty bodies, finding your clit and stimulating you double time to climax together.

He saw your eyes rolling back when he felt that tightness in his sack before he shouted out to you,

“CUM! CUM ON THIS DICK!” He roared out to you.

It was a rush you hadn’t been prepared for as he managed to get faster but his rhythm started to become irregular. He still managed to hit that deep spot in you that had you going crazy when his tip would rub over it and all that could be heard was you both climaxing then heavy breathing.

He continued to grind into you slowly, careful that it may hurt you but he wanted to ride out the best orgasm he’s had in awhile, and knowing that it was with you made him want to keep his dick deep in you.

If it wasn’t for the condom, he’s sure he would’ve gotten you pregnant and totally stepped up to the plate to take care of you and his seed.

Like you

He couldn’t believe that you were here, in this moment with him and he had to make sure you know that you were all he could ever want and more.

He raised up and you whimpered at the loss of warmth he provided and the way his body calmed you down after such a session.

“None of that.” He said, leaning back down to place a gentle kiss to you lips “I’ll be back Princess” and then slowly pulling out of you to tie the condom and through it away. 

You couldn't help but watch his retreating form go into the bathroom and come back with a damp rag to wipe you up and then leave the room to get you some water and lay back in the bed with you next to him. 

You both stared at eachother once he got back in the bed and you managed to fix yourself in a comfortable position, not caring about the sweat or the way you may look like a mad woman.

Instead, you brought your hand up to his cheek and watched as he closed his eyes before puckering his lips, leaning to you for a kiss that you happily gave him and he pulled you to lay on his chest.

He thought you had fallen asleep as you hadn’t moved in a while and knew he had to catch some sleep to if he wanted to get up early and make you something for breakfast. 

He planted a soft kiss onto your forehead, gripping you tighter and released a content sigh.

I found it hard to find someone like you

He wasn’t going to let you go and for a moment he thought he heard you say something but he passed it off as fatigue from the intense session the both of you just carried out after months of sexual frustration and tension. 

Trevante didn’t know that you were still awake and said that you loved him 

I can't be without you

You knew you weren’t gonna run anymore and he was it. Your one in a milllion and you would do everything to keep him, like he would you.

He held you tighter before finally closing his eyes, a small smile on his face.

And I can't be without you

He hadn’t heard you say you loved him...

but that’s neither here nor there.

You’d be alright with saying it again when you both were awake and not high off sexual energy.

Like you.

Taglist:

@killmonger-fics

@browngirldominion

(Dm to be added to the permanent taglist or let me know which actors/characters you’d want me to tag you in when I write)

——————————————————————————

Hey y’all! 

Sorry this took so long🥴 Been busy with uni and some other personal stuff so I put this off longer than intended🥴

But what’d you think, hope this met the standards and was worth it? 

Don’t forget to like, reblog and/or comment 😊

Hope you’re staying safe, checking in on your friends and loved ones and taking time for yourself :)))

Love you all and thanks for the support.

-K💜

[theficplug]

l Next Lifetime l Erik Killmonger l

previous chapters: l part 1 l

erik kilmonger x reader

warnings: none, but the usual 18+ for the eventual smut and a possible tw for grief but i promise it gets better and its a romcomsynopsis: reader grieves Erik until she doesn’t (i’m trying not give too much away). I really want to make it a series that i actually keep up with (sorry Girls Trip readers) because I have up to part 4 written. alright thats all i hope yall vibe with it. 

l part 2 l

“Yeah I do, I think that like if we want. We can come back as someone else or like maybe when we love someone really strongly and we have like soul ties we can come back to them in another life. But that’s just me. We could just be hitting the cha cha slide next to Father J.C.” Iridia explains and Tika shakes her head while laughing at her. 

“Personally, I don’t think so. I believe once our life Earthside is done we return to the cosmos to be a part of the stars that light up the night sky on our loved ones darkest nights. But why are we talking about this on your birthday? We are very much alive with much to celebrate miss thang. I’m ready to go!” Tika says to you as she grabs the car keys. 

“So I met someone while I was at the store and he invited all of us to a party at the Roller Rink but I gotta let you know it’s like crazy how eerily similar he looks to Erik.” you say to them and they both give each other a look before looking back at you.

“OH! Don’t give me that look! I know y’all probably think I’m losing it, but you know what they say everybody got a doppelganger somewhere. Anyways, I know it’s not exactly on our itinerary but I wanna go if y’all are down?” you ask them and they give a worried look before nodding and agreeing. 

“Hell yeah we’re in. I haven’t been to a skating rink since like 10th, maybe 11th grade? This should be fun to see if I got it or if I’m gonna buss my ass.” Tika says laughing.

The rest of the day was pretty easy breezy but you could not get over seeing him. Who’s possibly not him? In front of you. Happy and laughing and present. 

You tried to shake off the thoughts and feelings during brunch with your girls and for the rest of the day enjoying the street festival and winning a giant stuffed giraffe. Between the 3 of you, you won enough stuffed animals to fill the entire backseat of your car and eventually left the festival with a caricature drawing of the 3 of you.

Before you knew it, it was 6:40 and you and your girls were back at the beach house getting ready for the party. 

You searched around your suitcase for the outfits that Iridia had packed for you and settled on. 

You gave yourself a once over in the mirror and fluffed your fro a little before re-applying your lip gloss. 

“GIRL, YOU LOOK SO GOOD. What is going on?  You tryna get chose?” Tika asks standing in the doorway as she smiles at you with her ipod in one hand and a freeze-able daiquiri pouch in the other. 

You laugh as Tika glides around the room shaking her hips to the beat and doing a little roll as she saunters over to you to help you clasp your shirt in the back.

It’s safe to say that you haven’t been exactly up to your fashionably self for the past few months but Iri giving you options with the different pieces of clothing  that she bought you had you feeling like yourself again.

“Damn, I’m good.” Iri says while giving you a twirl and takes selfies with you and Tika.

You purse your lips and give your best smize towards her phone as she snaps a photo of you and for a moment things feel like they used to. 

“Just wanted to feel cute for once. I love this top and girl it got my titties SIT-TING.” you reply giggling and childishly nudging your girls before asking if they’re ready to go. 

You put the address into the gps and you were off on your way.You tried turning up the radio to drown out how loud your thoughts were going and in a million different directions.

 About 20 minutes later. You look out the window once arriving at the skating rink to see cars already filling the entire parking lot and you could see people laughing while holding onto each other as they skated their way inside. 

The music is already blaring and you could definitely tell that “Daka”’s friend is a party planner. The venue had some sort of projector or something set up so that the entire room seemed like it changed “worlds” with each song. There were multiple food stations, and a live DJ playing everything from 90s R&B to New Orleans bounce music and everything in between.

You and your girls quickly grabbed a pair of skates and looked around for N’Jadaka and sure enough within a few minutes he was grooving his way over to you this time dressed in a slightly opened printed shirt and light washed jeans. 

He skated around you with a big ass smile on his face. His golds were gleaming under the lights as it bounced off of the diamonds engrained in it. “YOU MADE IT! How y’all doing?” he asks your girls and they stand there gasping with their mouths wide open. 

“I mean he could be his goddamn identical twin. You were not lying! The only thing he’s missing are the scars and his dreads. God damn.” Tika was the first to speak before Iri introduced herself.

“Hey, Happy Birthday, I’m Iri. This is Tika’s rude self and you already met our boo.” Iri says pulling him in for a quick hug. 

“ I’m sorry, excuse us, you just look exactly like somebody we knew. Happy Birthday! It was his birthday too. It’s wild how people really do be having doppelgangers. Alright, so I’m gonna go try not to break my damn leg. Knowing I gotta go to work on Monday. Come on.” Tika says taking Iri by the hand and making her way onto the rink with her to give you and him some time alone. 

You shift your weight trying to keep yourself steady as you sway to music , knowing that he’s eyeing you up and down.

“Man must’ve been a hell of a person. I’m glad you came though. I didn’t think Orleans was gonna do all of this.” he says laughing and you can’t control the butterflies feelings like they were fluttering around your stomach. That’s his laugh.

“He was. To me at least, he was. Of course, I mean I haven’t been to a roller rink in forever and I really needed some time to just know what it’s like to be carefree again.” you admit and he nods along listening to your words.

He decided to save his comment on “he was” for later. Hoping that there would be a later for the two of you and opted for taking your hand in his and leading you onto the rink .

“Well, in that case. Show me what you got and forget about everything else for a minute.” he offers and you accept  his offer and shakily make your way onto the rink like bambi trying to walk for the first time. 

“Okay, so I’ll admit. I don’t actually know how to skate. I don’t why I thought this was a good idea.” you manage to stand for all of 10 seconds before tripping over onto him and he turns towards the DJ talking into the mic and signals for him to slow the music down.

“I got you.” he says and “Always Be My Baby” starts to play softly in the background as the “world” changes to a starry night. 

You look up at him for a moment and nod before leaning into him. As you rest your head on his shoulder he begins to skate you left to right gently swaying you to the beat of the song as his hand rests respectfully on the small of your back almost instinctively. It took everything in you not to start tearing up again.

This was your song . He always promised that you’d be a part of him no matter what happens in life. You were always going to be his baby. 

All the couples were paired off and you looked around at Iri holding onto Tika and smiled knowing that they’ve never acknowledged their feelings for each other but it was clear as day to anyone else. 

He swayed you and held you against him while his thumb stroked your back gently and you closed your eyes trying to soak up your time with him. 

You don’t know how it happened or if this was one long drawn out delusion or what exactly was going on in the moment, but all you knew was that you were able to feel the warmth of your E in your arms again and his scent evading all of your senses. 

In this moment he was smiling and content and at peace, not being shipped back to you with claw marks in his chest and bruises all over him. He was here with even slow breaths and enjoying himself. 

You knew that he felt it too because as the song ended you opened your eyes to find him looking down at you with this look of confusion and adulation on his face. 

You run your fingers over his cheek and clear your throat and recoil your hand back by your side. 

“I think your friends are calling for you.” you say to him playfully as the men and one woman around your age skate over to him and around the two of you, asking you a bunch of questions at once.

E- N’Jadaka let’s go of you to turn to them and introduce them to you .

“This is Orleans big head ass, Khalil , Pen, Lina, and Big Mike.” he says and they say hey and ask you if you are from around the area and you talk back and forth. 

The conversation between you and his little group was so easygoing. It didn’t feel forced or awkward as he stood beaming from you to them.

“I've been there once or twice. I really liked the Hottentot Saartjie/ Sarah Baartman piece about the dehumanization and caricaturization of black women, especially darker skin women, then and now. It was both interesting and heartbreaking. It’s the reason why I do what I do now. I create safe spaces for black girls and women of all ages. It’s my greatest accomplishment and something I’m most proud of.” you answer Mike’s question about the new black art exhibit downtown.

Mike looks at you and shakes his head in wonder and amusement.

“Daka, with all due respect bruh. I gotta ask her to marry me. Or you need to let me know what aisle that was you met her because I’mma swing by your parents' store tonight. I think we might be out of bread or something.” Big Mike says before complimenting you on your outfit and Lina joined in by asking if you’d like to check out a new record store with her on Tuesday.  

Next thing you knew your girls skated next to you to see what was going on. Tika introduced herself to the group and Iridia followed through.

“Hey I heard something about a record store because I could use some new ones. I think our neighbors are tired of me playing Otis Redding every night for the last few weeks. Keep asking me if I had a breakup every time I see her. Bless her nosey heart , Mrs. Pepper.” Iridia says talking animatedly and as gesticulatively as she always does and his small group of friends as everyone does seems completely enamored by her. 

“Of course, yeah, why don’t you come too? And Mrs. Pepper just doesn't know good music but I may be biased because Cigarettes and Coffee is my favourite song. Hold that thought. My mouth is dry as hell from all that skating around, be right back-” Lina says before skating away for refreshments and the rest of the group talks amongst each other.

Other friends of N’Jadaka come up at random times to hug him, get photos, or say happy birthday.

“You want some?” Lina asks Erik as she returns  to the group with a cupcake in her hand as she peeled the wrapper off and offered Erik a piece of the chocolate dessert. She reached out her hand towards his mouth and you looked from her to him and then at the cupcake which looked like it had walnuts in it. You push the piece away from his mouth and she looks at you puzzled. 

“What’s up with you?” he asks looking confused 

“Chocolate walnut cupcake.” you say simply not realizing that you were supposed to have just met him this morning .

“I- I mean just a lucky guess you know most people have nut allergies and shit.” you try to cover your tracks and he let out a sigh before laughing and nodding.

“You right too. Damn I was gon be out here looking like Will Smith when he ate that shellfish in Hitch for the rest of the function. I’m allergic to nuts. Good looking out ma.” he says and you nod at him before telling him to go skate with his friends you’d meet up later.

As you part ways your friends have about 3000 questions each. Iri believing that that definitely has to be Erik and Tika believing that you both had lost your natural born ass minds. 

You all settle on how wild it is that he looked like Erik and left it there. You enjoyed the rest of your night swag surfing with a room full of new friends and your old forever friends and just fully enjoying your birthday. 

“WE LIKE TO PAARTTAAYYY. AYYYYEEE AYYYYYEEE.” you sung out loud at the top of your lungs with everyone else and Beyonce. 

Somehow you end up twerking on Lina and having a good laugh as the drinks flow through your system.

You glance over at N’Jadaka being circled by some of his guests and he breaks the circle to grab your hand and lead you to the middle of it with him. 

“MY BIRTHDAY TWIN!” he shouts over the music to his guests and you shake your head telling him that he doesn’t really have to share his spotlight with you.

“Ain’t no problem.” he responds and you watch as everybody starts to skate a circle around you and Erik and y’all both laugh and pose for pictures while people sing Happy Birthday the Stevie Wonder version.

 His friends and yours all took turns to skate up to pin money on you both. 

You cheer and clap along to the music as you sing Happy Birthday to him and he sings it back to you. 

Before you know it you're both smiling at each other and getting swept up into a soft gentle kiss that feels like electricity is pulsing between the two of you.

As you close your eyes you can get a glimpse of kissing him before he left for Wakanda. The way he pressed his forehead against yours , the way your hands rested against his beating heart, and the way that his soft plumps felt against yours.

You knew that he felt it too because when you  broke the kiss with a tug of his bottom lip he was staring down at you once again with a puzzled expression.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just-” you explain before exiting the circle and making your way out of the skating rink.

You quickly take off the shows and put your regular shoes back on as you stand outside for a moment to get some fresh air and gather yourself.

"Why is this happening? How is this happening? People don't just get to come back. This is insane. This is insane."

It didn’t take long at all before Erik was smoothly grooving his way out of the door not once spilling his drink.

“You know ma, I’mma lot of things. But I know for sure stupid ain’t one of them.” he says swaying his shoulders to the music before he stops and stands in front of you.

“You know something, don’t you? How do we really know each other?” he asks slowly 

“I don’t. We met in Aloha Oakland for the first time. I feel so connected to you and believe that we have chemistry because you remind me of my ex. He passed away nearly a year ago and I didnt wanna tell you that right off the bat because the shit’s weird. “Hey, sorry I passed out ,  you cute but you remind me of my dead ex. So yeah, have a good day”.” you explain and he nods deciding once again to not press the issue. 

"I'm sorry for your loss. Grief is never an easy thing to go through. I feel I experienced so much of that so early I didn't know anything else besides death. I was told that my birth parents were both murdered. But my parents taught me through all that rot and decay of the heart something beautiful can still grow. They taught me how to live. That there is more to life is more than just surviving day to day out of spite and anger." He speaks slowly like he's really pondering the words that he wants to say before continuing. 

"It's kinda my fault. I feel like I was a lil too forward with all of this. My friends and the way that they party can be overwhelming. I'd like to make it up to you if you up for it. Just me and you. Maybe like a coffee or something quieter than this. I want to get to know you. Even though I know it's gonna sound corny as hell, I can't help feeling like I already do. You passing out by them discount cakes wasn't an accident at all, I think it was fate." he says and you look up at him before nodding. 

“I think so too.”

[valkerymillenia]

Klaus in season 2

First of all, let me point out that I love season 2, I really do. It's a great season for a great show. This post is very critical but it's not a reflection of the whole season itself, just of one aspect.

I know a lot of people are as upset as I am about how Klaus was treated in season 2. He's my favorite and I hated how the writers and characters alike treated him so I'm just here to vent.

Not that everything was awful, no, Klaus is still my favorite, he still had some amazing scenes but...

I get that not every character can be center stage every season when you have a show with 7 main characters, I really do. I'm not upset that Klaus had less protagonism because I know he'll get his chance to shine again and be in the spotlight in the future, but... That doesn't excuse the bullshit that was done with Klaus this season.

Everything around his arc and his powers in season 1 was ignored in return for turning him into comic relief with a dash of unresolved ship angst.

I don't like how his constant suffering is ignored with no catharsis or endgame or acknowledgement, or how his obvious kindness is downplayed by every character.

I don't like how him falling off the wagon was approached.

I don't like how the cult thing was played for laughs and he was called narcissistic and selfish when he was obviously trying to do the right thing (and failing) over and over.

Yes, starting the cult was a bad idea but he clearly didn't mean for it to get out of hand, he was just trying to survive and looking for support and validation anywhere he could in a strange new environment and he tried very hard to end it but they never let him. The cult was smothering him, disrespecting his personal space (and his actual requests not to be touched or to be left alone), invading his home without consent, objectifying the hell out of him, and so on. This would have been perfect to play out a parallel with how the ghosts never leave him alone, it's a sugar coated version of the horrible hauntings in s1, it would have been the perfect way to have his siblings realize how hard he has things, but instead he's painted as selfish and the cult plotline had zero payout or meaning in the overall plot.

I don't like how his powers were either nerfed to avoid stealing the spotlight (and how some of his original comic powers were co-opted by other characters).

I don't like how one of the biggest key points of his powers that shaped 29 years of his life was suddenly swept under the rug this season and treated so lightly.

Seriously, not a single ghost around him other than those two split-second scenes? This guy ruined his life with hard drugs just to escape the constant presence of the dead that are literally everywhere but suddenly in season 2 they are nowhere, suddenly the very thing that led him to desperation (and near death in more than one situation) before is gone, it makes light of his addiction and suffering, it makes his struggle with sobriety come off as lazy.

Remember Hazel and Cha-Cha's ghosts? Where are Five's ghosts? The cult's ghosts? Ghosts are supposed to always be around whether he wants them or not. Remember the how the voices haunted him even in the bath and underwater as soon as he started coming down from the high? Where's that now? Sure, maybe he could have learned to control what ghosts he sees or hears but we saw nothing of that, no struggle, no learning, no evolution, it's never mentioned and Klaus no longer seems to care, suddenly the only ghost around is Ben and the only power Klaus is developing is the ability to physically interact with Ben or make Ben corporeal (and that's all about Ben, not Klaus). Even possession, a power that should belong to Klaus or at least be controlled by him, is given to Ben without explanation.

They gives us a tiny glimpse of Klaus at peace with ghosts and in control of his powers in the opening of the season and then they annul it completely and show absolutely no explanation for it. It's such lazy writing! It's like they don't even know how to write Klaus unless he's high or drunk, it's like the writers see that as his only personality traits and not as something he struggles with.

I don't like how his reaction to Ben disappearing was so glossed over and barely addressed.

They were glued to each other (willingly) for 16 years. Ben was the voice of Klaus's conscience, his only support and his best friend, everyone else mourned Ben 17 years ago but not Klaus, he deserved to mourn and we deserved to see more a 2 second bed scene of Klaus looking kinda sad and a 20 second conversation about the loss of his best friend that was less about grief and more about guilt.

I don't like that he had no role in the final battle, even if they didn't want him to stay the spotlight, they could still have given some role, they could still have given him a chance to fight Lila too (perfect moment to show Lila being freaked out by the dead and give the siblings a glimpse of Klaus's burden), or at the very (VERY) least they could have given a plausible reason for him to not participate (like being injured or disabled early on or having to take care of someone else) but no, he, the trained vigilante and war vet, was just hiding and cowering.

Speaking of which, I get that Klaus is acting like a hippy pacifist in this season and he's crippled by PTSD but there are so many scenes where he should have at least shown his fighting skills for self-defense because you cannot tell me he had no fighting skills, he was trained the same way as his siblings and he was a soldier in an active battlefront for 10 months without dying, he HAS to have excellent skills. They just made him a physical doormat this season, he never reacts other than getting hit, hiding or running.

The Dave plotline was the only thing well addressed and I suspect we'll see the proper resolution to that in the next season.

I don't like a lot of things about how Klaus was handled this season but it's not that everything was awful, I still love Klaus and he did have great parts this season too and some interesting development.

I did love seeing him bond and interact with his siblings, I did like seeing him be incredibly supportive and affectionate to his family (even when they don't notice or appreciate it and even when it's just too further another sibling's plot), I absolutely adore how he dished out romantic wisdom with his sisters.

Seriously, I really did like him being supportive and affectionate- Allison with her love life, the dead Swede, her worries for her husband, the danger of the riot, getting her husband out of jail, etc; Vanya by including her and being affectionate, with her love life as well and by being honest with her all the way; Diego by trying to comfort him after Reginald emotionally devasted him, hugging him and trying to lighten the mood and show affection in other scenes even after all the times Diego is dismissive of him and accuses him off still being intoxicated; etc, etc, etc. Yes, he was rather mean towards Ben this season (refusing to tell the family he was there, ignoring him, using him to impress people or as a shield, etc) but he was also kind to Ben by keeping him corporeal often, letting him possess him despite how horrible it felt, again with Ben's love life as well by acting like a wingman, etc.

Klaus is naturally kind and affectionate, he's caring and protective of his family, his methods may be terrible and he may mess up a lot but his intentions are always good. This season picked up on that from s1 and highlighted it even more. That was a positive thing but the fact that nobody in the family acknowledges this, the fact that they still dismiss him as intoxicated and narcissistic, that was AWFUL.

Klaus is still self-destructive and deeply traumatized but both of those things were glossed over or played for laughs, I could handle the family dismissing him if these issues were given the importance and respect they deserved and there was an endgame or some payoff but... Nope, we got none of that.

Honestly, it just really bothers me that all the serious things established in season 1 were completely ignored just so Klaus would be lighter and less likely to steal the spotlight. I just want the multiple traumas and secrets that he's keeping from the family to be addressed, I want his struggles with his powers and sobriety to be validated and addressed instead of played for laughs or only remembered when it's convenient, I want to family to start showing any little bit of understanding or concern or appreciation for him (if they could do it for Vanya this season then they can do it for him too).

What I wouldn't give for Klaus to just finally snap in season 3 and be the accidental cause of the next possible doomsday just so the family would finally be forced to take him seriously and give him the right kind of support and attention.

[dadsbongos]

Hargreeves Kids in Order of Their Problems (and do i have a problem?)

No secret that the Hargreeves children are all fucked up, but as I was re-watching I was like damn - what if we ranked them? So here we go, I’m ranking all the Hargreeves’ spawn by their pain; taking into account their trauma with and without Reginald (mostly for Five/Klaus) and how bad it messed them up. I’ll be sticking mostly to the first season because that’s where a lot of the meat is, but I might include a tiny peek into season two.

Also, I will be directly addressing the frequent question I ask myself “Am I attracted to trauma when it comes to characters?” by looking at my favorites and if they’re all deeply scarred.

S Tier Pain - Five Hargreeves:

Not only was he forced to endure Reginald’s abusive training regime (at least until the haha moment), but he also got stuck in the future after a miscalculated time jump. You’d think that’d be bad enough, what with no longer being able to see your family, but no. Well, technically he did see them when he found their dead bodies but that’s just more to Five’s suffering. He also got jammed into a post-Apocalyptic life where he was the sole survivor and had to live all on his own (though he had Dolores, which is a whole can of sad, loneliness worms we don’t have time for). Then to make matters worse he was taken into the Commission where he was turned into as assassin for years, to which he quit early to save his family from the Apocalypse. After the first one - yes, the first - and arriving in the 60s, Five got to see a glimpse of his siblings dying to the second one. All he ever does is for his family’s survival, even if it means his misery. In season one (and two) he makes a deal with the Handler, who he can’t stand, just to

maybe

 ensure she’ll protect his loved ones from the end of the world. He willingly works with a woman he hates and likely doesn’t trust so his family would be safe. And who could forget that redheaded lady in the bowling alley, like gosh, she really ruined his life by assuming his age like that... poor guy.

A Tier Pain - Klaus Hargreeves:

Unlike Five, he got to stick around for the entirety of Reggie’s cuck ways of abusing his kids physically/emotionally/mentally. From a young age (if that episode two lunch scene is anything), Klaus has been using drugs as a way to cope with his family life and his power. His addiction has led to a rather sad life, as evident from the first episode and some of his own dialogue - he’s not used to staying in one place, if anything his visits to rehab centers are the longest homes he really has. He’s not expected to stay sober long by the counter employee, indicating he’s been there before multiple times. When talking to Five outside of the prosthetic department, he outright admits he hasn’t been with someone for longer than about two weeks. He’s never shown to even hold down a job unless you count supplying local pawn shops - or, you know, the army. He served in war, straight up war, he likely has PTSD and to make things better, note the sarcasm, he lost his boyfriend in that war. Dave, the one person he’s described as loving more than he does himself. Klaus is constantly brushed under the rug as this crazy, attention-seeking junkie for most of season one by his family, but he’s more likely just calling for the help he clearly needs. Speaking of his family, I just wanna throw in that Klaus was kidnapped and tortured and not one person seemed to notice or even care.

B Tier Pain - Vanya Hargreeves:

Neglected by her adoptive father and siblings her entire life, Vanya was left out of the loop of even her own powers until she discovered them fucking decades later. She wrote a book trying to air out her father’s awful deeds and rather than finding solidarity with their shared agony at least a little, her siblings pushed her even further away. Quick mention, during the argument on whether or not to turn off Grace, she was immediately shut down on an opinion until she was shown to agree with Diego. Her vote didn’t matter until she sided with another sibling. Vanya grew up so starved for attention and love that when she got into her first relationship with Leonard (that bitchy murderer) she mistook it for a real love. Stayed with an abusive, gaslighting killer against all her sister’s warnings. She was betrayed by her own brother (fuck Luther, me and the homies hate Luther) after coming home, sobbing and pleading forgiveness, just wanting to help into being locked back in that vault Reginald used to keep her in. Vanya snapped, felt there was no other outlet and truly there possibly wasn’t for her, and ended the world. She was in so much pain, so angry with her life and how it was ruined by her own family that she blew up the moon. And honestly? I’m not even mad at her for it.

C Tier Pain - Diego Hargreeves:

Dude found his ex-girlfriend’s - and probably his potential love interest’s - corpse. He’s aching inside at least a bit. His spot as Number Two fueled a deep need to prove himself, whether he admits it or not, it’s why he’s a vigilante. Diego functions off of stopping crime and it’s only different from his childhood because he does it alone. He feels the need to validate what he went through, as if his suffering needs to be explained in some way. Speaking of childhoods, who gives them to us? Moms. Grace is his robo-Mom with no real sentience (well, before Cha-Cha and Hazel raided the place anyway, reboot Grace has some weird independence complex going on). She read to him, put him to bed, and fed his Mama’s Boy fixation - even going as far as to help Diego with his stutter. He put her down, in the robot sense. Diego was the first person to speak against shutting Grace down and yet he did so himself - knowing it’s what had to happen.

D Tier Pain - Ben Hargreeves:

He’s dead, so I’m not sure what he’s gone through other than having “The Horror” in his stomach and Reginald as a dad. So there’s not much to say about his trauma other than having to sit through watching people die horribly by his power’s hand. But again, he’s dead, and dying is one of the most traumatic things I can think of. That’s why he’s higher than the others but still lower than the previous four Hargreeves’ kids.

E Tier Pain - Allison Hargreeves:

She’s known as a “Daddy’s Girl” how that’s possible with Reginald, I’m not sure, but she is. Not to excuse any of the torment she got as a child or give the abuse a pass, at all. It’s just an inference that as Number Three and someone who easily got what she wanted with her power, she probably didn’t feel out-casted like Vanya. Nor was she left to survive on her own and then kill to live like Five. Allison, in all fairness, was viciously attacked by her sister after revealing she “Rumored” her memory away. Unlike Ben, she survived and went on to be the peaceful one of the family and her power didn’t directly kill, especially in ways that “The Horror” did. So I must rank her pain lower with a sad bob in my throat, nervous that all the Allison lovers will scream at/cancel me for putting her at E.

F Tier Pain - Luther Hargreeves:

Fuck Luther, me and the homies hate Luther. This little fuck found something out of proving himself to his father. So far up his dad’s ass that he was cool with being a monkey space boy for years until he realized Reginald didn’t give a shit about him. And honestly? Same. No but really, he did become a monkey man purely out of Reginald’s need for a hero to do what he said - and Luther couldn’t fill that if he was dead. I do recognize that his life was essentially wasted by his years spent on the moon, blindly following Dad’s orders but to be honest, he’s too in the background. He had nothing other than his father and therefore lost nothing other than his family, it’s hard to feel bad when you know he had no intention of doing anything other than be by Reginald. No plans unlike Klaus who had his life decimated by his drugs dependency or fuck, Five! Five had absolutely no life other than living through the Apocalypse for decades. Overall, I hate Luther but even though I can’t stand his gorilla guts, I do recognize that he has trauma.

~~~Do I Have A Problem?~~~ Considering that Five and Klaus are my favorite characters and they are the most traumatized? Yes, I am unnecessarily in love with characters in pain. I didn’t want to be a mannequin before I knew about Five, and now I crave to morph into Dolores (or at least combine with her like a Power Ranger)

[c-atm]

Fighting Flirty:Sparring

First, never let it be said that Steven Quartz Universe and Connie Yasha Maheswaran do not take their responsibilities seriously, because they do.

They really do.

In terms of Steven, it's not uncommon to see him up and about Beach city or Little Homeworld, just checking in to see how everything's going. It's not obscure to hear about him visiting Homeworld and seeing if any gems want to be a part of a new settlement on earth or trying to help gem-kind integrate with the galaxy...Opposed to hollowing it out. It's an exhausting job but it's worth it.

For Connie, along with her college work and responsibilities to her family; the young woman has made herself indispensable to both Homeworld and Earth, thanks to her partial (slowly becoming full-time if funding comes through)  directorial position at research and development. Combing through results reports of current experiments, proposing and conducting new ones, updating successful ones and reworking previous failures for future successes. All for the dream of uniting and advancing both humanity and gem-kind through understanding, teamwork and technology.

Though, nothing is easy and while Era 3 is peaceful...It’s relative. There are threats out there that would like nothing more for everything Steven, Connie and their allies (Human, Gem and otherwise) built, to be destroyed. Which makes such things as the dojo like 'room' of Little Homeworld R&D's sub-basement, relevant even now..

Created via gem magic similar to the gem temple, with it bamboo like floors that was a football field long, walls adorned with melee weaponry of all types and have it's own artificial atmosphere to match the actual weather, the room has been a perfect way to keep from overworking.

It was made to give both gems and humans incentive to keep up with the physical aspects of their life, while trying to change the world through science.

Some slept in it as it drowned out a lot of the sounds within R&D, others use it as a place of meditation, while others use it for its intended purpose..

Thus times like this are a normal occurrence.

"Ok, Heartberry, " Steven called out as he hopped in place dressed in a pair of yellow trunks and white tank top. Wrapped around his knuckles, wrist, palm and fingers was athletic tape, same with the ball of his feet, ankles and heels. A topknot held by a blue band. " How are we gonna play this?"

"I'm gonna kick your ass and you're gonna love it."

Steven scoffed out a laugh as he turned around to the source. "AWWOOOO!" he gave a wolfish whistle, "You just might be right. Starting with mental warfare?"

"Battles are won before they are fought." Connie sagely teased.

"Sun-tzu? I wanna say Sun-tzu."

"Sun-tzu, indeed Mister." Connie smirked. "I am impressed."

"That's my aim...So, I'm guessing that little number is to ensure your victory." Steven looked up and down her form.

"Well that, and your gaze over me." Connie flirted as she stretched a bit, snickering at the hungry eyed hybrid.

Her outfit was very simple. A royal blue halter top leotard, a pair of mid thigh, yoga shorts of the same color with red trim. She too wore athletic tape in the same way as Steven, and had her hair in her normal braid, with a pink scrunchy at the very beginning of it.

"You didn't have to do all that just for my sight. You could have worn your normal Kalaripayattu attire."

"Yeah, but it's way too hot in here for those.. They’re kind of weighted and they hold sweat." She gave him a playful stance, her hands folded behind her back as she stretched. "This is much lighter and sweat drips off my body."

"Plus, a lot more distracting. Gonna have to watch where I grab you."  Steven noted with bitten lips.

"Are you complaining? Cause your tone..It doesn't match your face, Mister." Connie gave him an accusative side-eye.

"Just taking notes. Beautiful, wonderful,  sensual notes. Don't wanna make a...Mistake"

The small husk in his tone made Connie toes flex. "Oh, I'm sure you would enjoy that." She licked her lips.

Steven nodded with a smirk, "Happy accidents, though I can't be blamed." He grinned darkly, "You effectively cut down the number of ways I could pin you."

Connie nodded hand on her hips as she stretched back. "That's the point, making it harder for you to win."

He walked over to her grabbing her over the waist, getting a giggle as she rested her hands on his chest "Well, l already have you in my arms, right?" He teased before blowing gently on her neck.

"Bi~iisky" She felt herself tremble under his air, giggling in pleasure. "It's already sweltering in here…Making me hotter, isn't fair." She melted running her hands slowly through his hair.

"I just wanna make you sweat." He whispered playfully in her ear.

"You're certainly an expert on the matter..." She breathed deeply as she pulled him closer, her eyes trained on his topknot.  She sighed feeling his hand run up her back, to her shoulders, caressing her nape.  

"Your touch always makes me...Nope!" Her eyes widened as she pushed him away leaping back herself. Holding the back of her head, feeling her scrunchy still in place. "You cheeky biscuit."

"Can you really blame me for a preemptive strike."Steven responded with a laugh at her blushing face. "After all battles are won before they're fought, right?"

"Don't you dare spit the art of war back at me!" Connie stated as she marched towards him, eyes ablaze in determination and competition.

"It's true though, right?" Steven walked towards her looking smug." Besides, you were the one who was eyeing my top knot. Can you blame me for making a move?"

In the center of the sweltering dojo, the two stood. The only light in the room being noon sun, that gently graced the room and them through blinded windows.

The only smell being the slight sweat coming from them and the humidity of the room itself.

The only sounds being the very faint machinery from one of the labs on the floors above and below and their own breathing.

"So, how do you wanna do this Heartberry?" Steven offered dipping close to her face.

" Same as always, first to retrieve their hair piece, or make the other forfeit, wins." She stood still and slightly parted her lips. in preparedness.

“Starting with a kiss?" he teased as he cupped her cheeks.

"Any other way to do it?" She cupped his own, pulling him closer.

Steven chuckled before she took his lips with her own. passionate, loving and telling. their tongues twisted as their lips brushed, and teeth gently nipped at each other. Their faces burning hot from the emotion and both inner and outer heats as slight moans and whimpers slipped out. They broke the kiss opening their eyes in tandem, giving each other a giggle of bliss, resting their foreheads on together.

"No Diamond state. Quartz strength is ok." She pecked his lips.

"No pressure points. or crushing blows." He returned her peck a bit more tenderly than hers, making her purr with a nod.

"Good luck." They shared one last kiss before slipping into a ready stance.

Steven's stance was unorthodox, with a lower center of gravity, his left foot in front of his body with his right pointed to the side and his hand waist height by his side.

In opposition, Connie's stance was similar to her sword stance. Her body lowered, her left foot pointed forward in front of her with her right following.  While she held her hands in the same positions she would if she had her sword.They were open palmed, held straight up as if acting as blades themselves.

The two stood in smirking silence for a moment, before Steven stepped forward expecting Connie to step back. He was slightly surprised to see her left hand shoot forward towards his hair, causing him to skip back out of her reach.  He scoffed as he returned to his stance  

“Chu. Chu. Chu.”

Steven nodded his head at Connie’s kissing taunt, sucking his teeth. “Really, ok.”

Connie chuckled as she  moved closer, shortening the space in two steps . She  evaded a grab at her hair by shifting her body to the left before throwing a left jab to his chest only to be blocked back by his forearm. She followed through with a right palm to the body which was met with his own palm, resulting in a responding clap as they interlocked.

Steven took another swing at scrunchy with his free hand and was parried by Connie knocking his wrist upward with her own, before ducking an attempt at his topknot. He smirked mischievously as he swept the back of her knees, causing her to fall on her ass.

“Nice move.” Connie praised him with a grimace as he helped her up to her feet. Rubbing her butt when she was up.

“Thank you.” He gave her a healing kiss, taking the pain away and enticing a little pleasure, releasing her hand and stepping back a bit before getting in his stance. “ You’re ready?”

Connie nodded before sliding into her own.“ Whenever you are, Mister.”

Unlike before, there was no waiting between the two. Steven missed a sidekick toward her hip as she dropped into a split, smiling up at his dumbfoundedness.   .

“Impressed” She teased, her chin in her hands as she bent forward on to the floor. giving him a flirty grin.

“That and a little hot.” he breathed deeply “ Have I ever told you I love your body control.”

“You have...showed me a few times too.” She chuckled. “Always nice to hear and with that being said.” She spun her body around tripping him off his feet, while she kik-up to hers. She smiled a bit worryingly at how he landed on his back. “ You ok?”

“ Come on, I’m sturdy and you know that.” Steven gave her a reassuring grin as he climbed to his feet and slipped into his stance. “ Ready to continue when you are.”

“That’s my man.”

Steven couldn’t help the blush and the feeling of pride towards the adoration in her voice and gaze as she got in her ready stance.  That quickly changed to alertness as Connie shot forward with a jab toward his face and stopped an inch away, as he put up a guard with his left arm. Only to feel her palm collide with his left side causing him to yelp in surprise and take a step back as she gave chase, putting him on a complete defense as Connie kept up the assault; attacking with quick, precise hits against his blocking.

Connie cocked back ready to steal his top knot.  She grinned as left hand shot  forward ready to grasp victory, and to lose balance when he slipped to her right side  and feel the pop of his knuckles on her back.

“ Hey!” She turned around tying catch him only feel two more pop on her thigh and hip. “ Hmmph! She turned again and felt a nip on her neck “ Oh no you don’t!” she chuckled before backing away and being chased by Steven.

“ I’m coming, Connie. You can’t run!” He taunted as he took a playful swipe at her waist.    

“Yes I can!” Connie responded as she continued to evade and block by each swipe. “But I won’t!”

Steven was surprised when she dipped very low to the floor and moved forward, passing his grasp, grabbing his arms as she stood and pulling him to a kiss. Steven felt himself melt temporarily forgetting the current situation and kissing her back, his hands clasping.

Giving Connie the moment she needed to grab his tank top, sweep his feet from under him, and pinned him under her straddling him and never breaking the kiss.

"Ooh.You really got me falling for your kiss." Steven joked as he broke the kiss, tickling under her arms, making her laugh and release him. He nipped her nose before  rolling to the side and pinning her under him, his knees against her thighs keeping the spread open as his hand held hers down.

"Cheater." Steven reprimanded with the devil's grin.

"I prefer the term, tactician." She responded in kind. "Shouldn't wear such a grab-able shirt."

" Ohh! Really? " He nipped her neck, making her squeal in laughter.

"No.. Not that!" Connie struggled to get away from the affectionate assault. Pushing against his hands as she tried not to melt under him. "You won't break me, Universe. My will is a strong as my…",

She was interrupted by his nips becoming a bite and suckling.

"Hhhash~Hmmmm." She felt her body relax under him." No….This is ...So sweaty and hot and nic--I mean unfair."

"This is strategy." Steven teased in her ear, watching her wither in pleasure and slight embarrassment.

"Not gonna surrender!!!." Connie roared as she raised her hips off the floor.

In a feat physiological mastery, Connie lifted him off his feet as she tossed them both in a somersault that resulted in Connie straddling Steven just below his chest with their hands still interlocked

"What was that?!" Steven stated in dazed amazement. That soon was coupled with an excited caution as he looked up at her domineering gaze and grin. He gulped when she licked her top lip, hungrily. The way the light gave her a casting shadow didn't help either.

"Tenacity, determination, years of physical conditioning, constant healing both magical and not.. "Her voice was cool and direct. She got close to his face with a predatory sneer. "And the need to make.." She kissed and sucked on his bottom lip causing some trembling.

"You.." She trailed down to his windpipe, her voice getting more seductive as she let go of his hand.

"Yield." She stated as she moved lower straddling his stomach and squeezing his sides with her calves, bringing her free hand down to his exposed gem.

"Ooh.. that's  so.." He brought  his head back as the pleasure of her mouth on his throat and the cool tender touch upon his gem racked his body. "This..this is much. torment..:

"Oh.." She taunted as he kissed him. "Are you gonna break under me?"  She rubbed his gem with her palm as if it was being polish, making him moan into her mouth..which in term made her follow suit.

"No." He growled in defiance as his free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her in to deepen and take the lead of the kiss.

'No..No no.. I'm not losing to him!' Connie raged inside fighting the want to melt. Rubbing his gem with more affection taking care to give each facet attention, while turning the drawn out make-out to a battle of nips and quick pecks.

"Give in to the affection." Connie ordered as she kissed his trembling lips, the pleasurable feeling of his hand moving to her seat, causing her heart to race.

I want to.. really I do but.. " He pinched her hip causing her to yelp in surprise.

"Hey now! That can wait.-" .

"No,  it Can't!" He stole a kiss before rolling her over to the side.

The two broke the kiss, breathing deeply, before chuckling.

"So..can this be considered training?" Steven asked, feeling how red his lip was.

"I think it's good grappling and resilience training." Connie chuckled, "Though.. I don't know if I have a high resistance to you and your affection."

"Says the one who threw me off guard with a kiss and then rubbed my gem." He retorted, bringing her into a cuddle.

"It's my game plan. The perfect Steven game plan... Weaponized love."

Steven arched an eyebrow at the prideful woman."Really?"

"Yup." She dug into her pocket to pull out his blue hair band. "See, I won."

Steven checked his head with his free hand and true enough, his topknot was gone. "Mischievous  Minx", he teased before digging into his trunks and pulling out her pink scrunchy.

"When!?"  Connie demanded tapping his chest.

"When you let go of my hand to mess with my gem." He spoke proudly.

"Ha, you lose! Got it before I tossed you over." She grinned at his dumbfounded face.

"What?! When!"

Connie blushed before she sat up rubbing her neck. "While you were giving me such a good time on my neck. I slipped it off with my teeth." She said with a boast.

Steven pursed his lips before giving in to his pride. "Such an amazing partner I have." He stood on to his feet, before helping her up as well.

Connie nodded. "Of course. Anything less than that is not permitted."

"Now is that so." He grinned, pulling her close.

Connie rubbed his cheek, giving him a loving gaze. "You give me your all and more, everyday Mister." She answered matter factually, before giving him a peck on his forehead. "And you deserve what you give. Just glad that it's me who gets your adoration and gets to give it back to you."

Steven pursed his lips in disagreement. "I don't know, it seems like I'm the lucky one in that scenario. " He teased resting his foreheads on hers.

"Boy, I will fight you on this.” Connie gave him a toothy, amorous side grin, folding her hands upon his nape.

“Oh really?” Steven snicked as his voice dropped to a seductive baritone.”

“Uh-huh.” She laughed.

“Well we’re in a dojo, Berry” He gave her a kiss “Bring it on.”

“Ok Mister, you asked for this” She ‘warned’ as she led him down to mat, ready for another round of sparring.

[thecursedhellblazer-arc]

The Taste of a Promise

(( So, @sirhisslot, I saw this picture that @thedemonconstantine made for you yesterday and, since I was already planning to write a piece with John and our favourite sassy bird, I thought to uh...sort of dedicate it to you? It seemed just fair since it’s all thanks to you if I got to enjoy all the shenanigans you guys have come up with! ^^ ))

(( It’s a bit of a piece of trash and I’m so very sorry for it, but hopefully the thought will make up for its lack of super high quality! Happy delayed birthday from this random twat person! ))

John slowly blew out a mouthful of smoke, watching as it raised up towards the night sky before dispersing in the chilly air. The scratch on his cheek was still stinging like hell, even after it had been cleaned and disinfected, and so did all the other small gashes and light cuts that covered most of the skin of his arms and chest. His shirt, while not exactly torn to shreds, would have probably ended up in the trash the next morning. The time and the effort he would have to put in repairing it wouldn’t have been worth the poor results.

Sticking the cigarette back between his lips, Constantine muttered a heavy curse under his breath. Normally, he would have paid no mind to that kind of wounds, since he was used to dealing with much worse, and by now he should have made peace with the fact that his clothes got ruined more often than not. It was part of the risks of the job, something that couldn’t be helped and that he had to put up with, no matter how aggravating for both him and his wallet it could be.

However, in that particular occasion, the culprit also happened to be the source of his current bad mood and, if there was something John was good at, it was holding grudges, even, and especially if he had to be honest, for the most stupid things. The events that had taken place that night were part of an overused, bad script that, somehow, never seemed to get old and kept repeating itself over and over and over, much to the magician’s chagrin. The fact that he was to blame for all that as much as his opponent was, in his eyes, a detail of no import. It didn’t change the fact that he had been forced to flee outside and get some air, instead of being inside with the others, enjoying his drink.

“Bloody fuckin’ bird,” he muttered under his breath, moodily chewing the butt of his cigarette.

His eyes moved up towards the sky. The feathered fucker constantly glared at him, no matter what he did or said, no matter if he had been paying any sort of attention to him or not. He probably thought that John was a bad influence and that he could exert his role as such even just by existing in the same room where Tim was. And deep down, even if he wouldn’t have admitted it out aloud, the magician might have almost agreed with the owl. However, that didn’t give the bastard any right to attack him at the slightest pretext.

Constantine let out a low groan. He wasn’t even sure of how the fight had started this time. Maybe he had said a word too much, maybe he had glared at the bird for a bit too long. Or perhaps it was because he had messed a little with the winged wanker’s food. Chas had advised him against doing it, but of course he hadn’t listened. In his defence, Tim had been around for a few days and John had really tried to behave at first, but it had been impossible for him to keep the act up. The two of them just weren’t capable of getting along. Why exactly, it was a mystery and John’s guess would have been as good as any, if he had cared enough to make one. It seemed to be one of those things that simply were as they were, almost as if they had been meant to be.

Oh, he was bad at handling those. Very, very bad.

The wandering trail of his thoughts was interrupted by the light sound of wings flapping and Constantine turned his head on his side, already scowling before his eyes could properly land on the bird that had come to perch on the railing next to him. There were several feathers missing from his plumage and the magician couldn’t help smirking in smug satisfaction, knowing that he had been the one to do such damage. He might have gained his own wounds during the fight, but the bastard looked just as worse for wear as he did.

“Woh’s up now? ‘Ell, can’t a bloke ‘ave a bloody fag n’ some bloody alone time?” He grumbled under his breath, turning his head away once again. “Didn’t yeh get enough already? Sod off, yeh tosser. ‘M not in th’ mood to go again rite now.”

The sharp look that Yoyo shot him was even harsher than John’s tone had been, but then the owl seemed to choose to ignore him and instead he started to preen, trying to make up for the mess that had been made of his feathers. That moron was a jinxed menace,  a walking magnet for trouble, and he reeked of alcohol, cigarettes, bad habits,  misery and, literally, of Hell itself. He shouldn’t be allowed near anyone, especially not his human companion.

And yet, for some reason that kept evading him, Timothy seemed to have grown quite fond of Fate’s Fool, against what most people would have surely agreed was common sense and good taste.

Seeing his words falling in death ears, John rolled his eyes and went back to his cigarette, barely holding back the impulse of blowing out the next mouthful of smoke directly in the bird’s face. His gaze, however, kept darting towards the owl. He didn’t trust him not to sink his cursed claws or damned beak back in his flesh the moment he had turned away for a moment too long.

The silence stretched for a few minutes, the time that Constantine needed to finish his smoke and lit out the new one, while Yoyo kept  trying to cover the holes in his plumage, taking the time to shoot the man an outraged look every time he lifted his head to move his attention to another spot.

“Yeh know, if me presence offends yeh tha’ much, yeh can’ fuck off,” John eventually commented, after the umpteenth glare. “Christ. Yeh could even jus’… ” He waved a hand, gesturing to his unwanted guest to scoot away. “Lots of space on dis bloody railin’, innit?” 

Once again he was ignored, just as he had expected to be, and he glanced away, muttering one more curse. He didn’t know what was worse, not being able to relax and breath, which was what he had come out to do, or the sparks of irritation that kept being fed by the bird’s snobbish attitude. It was another thing that he would have never admitted out aloud, not even under torture, but the fucker and his insistent scowling managed to make him feel every bit like the piece of trash he had to be in the bird’s eyes.

Something sharp suddenly jabed him in his side and he started. “Oi! Yeh fuckin’ wanker!”

He whipped around to fully face Yoyo. He had meant it when he had stated that he wasn’t in the mood for another round, but, if the bastard wanted to go for it, he would have made him regret it. However, he paused when he found the owl with one wing extended, pointing towards the window of the balcony.

Look, you idiot.

The displeased expression didn’t abandon Constantine’s face, but he reluctantly did what he was being told, his eyes landing on the small scene that was playing inside the apartment. Tim was sitting on the couch, holding a glass that was probably being kept dutifully refilled by Chas. Tha cabbie had to be spinning one of his stories, because he was gesticulating animatedly, perhaps a bit more than it was strictly necessary, most likely in the attempt of keeping the teen as involved as possible in whatever was being told.

Despite himself, John found himself grinning slightly. Poor old Chas. He probably felt like he was failing miserably with Tim barely offering polite nods to show his participation, even if the lad had to be appreciating the snacks that kept being shoved in his way, considering how quickly they disappeared from his plate.

What a domestic scene, carrying the taste of a normalcy and of the tranquility of daily life none of them was truly used to. An old cassette playing in the background, complementing the warm lights that lit up his best friend’s flat, the lingering smell of the homemade dinner they had shared. It tasted like warmth, like safety, like home. A thin and yet sturdy shield against all the possible, ugly realities they had witnessed.

The promise of a better, brighter future.

John turned back towards Yoyo, finding that the owl was staring at him expectantly. And, hell, if he couldn’t feel the weight of those expectations. He groaned and the bird hooted at him, irritated and firmly, preventing the magician from just ignoring him as he had been tempted to do.

So? Did you get it or are you that thick?

Constantine puffed out a bit more of smoke, but then nodded, glancing briefly towards the window one more time. “…Aye, aye, got th’ fuckin’ message,” he grumbled under his breath. “Loud n’ clear, mate.”

Those words, however, didn’t seem to satisfy Yoyo because the owl pecked him once again, a bit harder than he had done to get his attention. The flash of satisfaction that touched his dark eyes when the magician winced was impossible to miss.

And?

“N’ ‘m tryin’, alrite? ‘M fuckin’ tryin’. Fuck, it ain’t easy, yeh know? N’…good t’in’s ain’t exactly me forte,” John was forced to continue, rubbing his forearm. Yet another bruise to add to the list. “But, if there’s somet’in’ I can do to stop all tha’, too keep ‘im ‘ere, wit’ us, away from…wohte’er ugly fate’s waitin’ ‘ed for us…Be bloody sure tha’ I’ll do it. N’ I’ll leave not’in’ untried. No ma’er th’ cost.”

Their gazes met for a moment and, after squinting at the man for a moment, Yoyo this time seemed pacified. His faith in John Constantine wasn’t the strongest and it would have never been, but he could recognise heartfelt sincerity when he saw it. There was no reason to believe that the magician’s attempts would have been enough, because history had often shown how useless will and good intentions could be at the end of the day, but it was a start. And it was something they could agree on. Some common ground, together with their shared despised for that filthy crow.

Fine. Truce. At least for tonight. But be ready to meet my wrath if you even just think about making a false step around Tim.

“Wohte’er,” John replied, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. Then a smirk opened on his lips. “…Fuckin’ stinky duster.”

The peck that reached his hand was strong enough to make him yell, but he found himself laughing mere second after, holding his bleeding fingers, not giving a damn about how Yoyo had puffed out his chest and his feathers, wings opened in a clear threatening pose.

His shout had been loud enough to attract Chas’s and Tim’s attention and the cabbie was already getting up from his seat, most likely to come and retrieve him, and perhaps even to give him another scolding about how he needed to stop poking the bird, but he found that he didn’t care about that either.

He grinned, widely, waving his injured hand, and damn. Behind the facade of offended anger and ruffled feather, he could have sworn that Yoyo was smirking right back at him.

[sweatycatmentality-blog]

suicide trial and error

A reflection on my past experiences living with an undiagnosed mental illness and the effects that my imbalanced state of mind had on my father’s own fragile mental health.  

An all to common journey for families with members suffering from undiagnosed mental illness that leads to tragedy.

The story I am choosing to share is not one of happy times during my childhood. It is a tragedy for which I bear a great responsibility for. My father's death was completely preventable. The cause of his death shouldn’t be classified suicide - he was murdered by my lack of understanding of his disease fueled by the teenage narcissistic tendencies which were coupled with my own undiagnosed mental illness. I accept responsibility for my actions and only hope that sharing my experience will prevent this tragedy from happening to someone else.

My relationship with my dad was always turbulent. It was cyclical, based on his mood and my own. There were ups and downs, always fueled with admiration or hatred, never anything in between. I’d only realize later in life that this was because we both suffered from untreated mental health issues - specifically bipolar and depression - the love/hate cycles coincided with our manic and depressed episodes. During the manic episodes we’d bond over our far-fetched dreams, each feeding the lies to each other of what was possible instead of accepting reality. As quickly as those episodes came, the depression crept in. This was heightened by drug and alcohol addiction on my dad’s part. Me, well I felt isolated from everyone despite having the appearance of a social life. I dealt with the feelings of being unwanted, unsuccessful, a burden on my family and friends. I questioned everyone’s perception of me, giving weight to the hurtful things bullies in school said about me, not realizing that they picked on me not because of my looks or because my family wasn’t rich, but because they got the best reactions from me. My anger and sadness shined through.

During these low points I became hostile towards my family, I was filled with rage and angry at the cards I had been dealt in terms of my family’s lack of money and the embarrassment I had of my father and how he acted - totally unpredictable, would he be sober or messed up. I lacked understanding of mental illness and didn’t know how to be empathetic towards him, primarily because I didn’t realize that he had a disease which was undiagnosed until he was in his 50s. My inability to comprehend the symptoms of his *(and my own) disease made my relationship with him unhealthy and detrimental to the wellbeing of both of us.  

I remember the first glimpse I had at the severe impact my awful, unforgiving, and uncompassionate attitude had on him was when I was in 9th grade. I sat at the kitchen table with my mom and dad on either side of me. My dad had cooked dinner, and like he always did when he chose to cook, he left the kitchen a complete disaster for my mom and me to clean up. I never understood how he could create such a mess and have no consideration for us having to clean it up. After he said dinner was ready, I always commented on the state of the kitchen to which he replied - I cooked, you all can clean. That was how it always went.

           This dinner started out the same as it always did, we said grace holding hands. The words had lost all meaning at this stage of my life. I couldn’t grasp what it was to be grateful for the food we had on the table or the roof over our heads. I was a self-absorbed, ungrateful teenager and an asshole. I see that now looking back.

After saying grace my father said “Cha (his nickname for my mom, Charlotte) get me the salt.” This sparked a fury in me as he was clearly sitting much closer to the cabinet that the salt was in and I felt as though he thought he could command my mom to fetch the salt for him merely because he cooked dinner. That wasn’t part of the deal - we cleaned, and he cooked, we were not his servants. Before I realized what I was saying I blurted out, “Why don’t you get it your f***ing self.” Silence. The next few minutes were a blur, but I believe he called me a b***h before getting up and grabbing his keys at which point my mom and I pleaded for him to stay and sit back down. We knew he was going to the bar like he always did when my mom or I commented on his drinking or exorbitant spending. His reaction was always predictable - he was never wrong, that drink or that new tech-device that we didn’t need and couldn’t afford was always justified. I have vivid memories of mom standing between him and the door begging him not to go to the bar and I would apologize profusely (most of the time) to no avail.

           This time was no different initially, he’d say to my mom to get out of his way in a deep scary tone which I knew far too well. The tone was that of rage and undeniable hatred towards us. Blaming us for disrupting a family dinner and causing him to go to the bar. Placing all the blame for the arguments on us and taking no responsibility in his role as the cause. This time when he charged for the front door in my gut, I knew that once he walked out that door everything in our lives would change for the worse. Upon his exit, I sensed that my mom shared my uneasy feeling.

           Reflecting on the incident, I am sure she felt disappointment that I once again opened my mouth and threw a match on the otherwise painless dinner. Why couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut or just gotten him the damn salt myself, thereby conveying my disapproval of his commanding my mom to do his bidding but keeping the peace by still appeasing him by fulfilling that command. My mom knew that I was trying to stand up for her because in my eyes she never stood up for herself when he spoke down to her. However, this time I could see her sadness and annoyance at me. I apologized to her again, but the damage was done.

           Some time passed and my mom and I sat silently at the table not touching our plates. The dread of not knowing how he was reacting to my attack was dredging up a mass of emotions inside me. I felt ashamed and contrite, but it was too late to express those thoughts to him. He would never listen to me anyways; he needed to cool down before I apologized to him. My mom called and called my dad but was unable to reach him. He had turned his phone off. At this point I knew something terrible was going to happen. I ordered my mom to get into the car - I was 15 years old so I only had a learner’s permit - we racked our brains as we drove around to the local bars or places, we thought he might go. My mom called all of his friends, but none had heard from him. Our worry heightened when I suddenly had the idea to check the local community theater shop/rehearsal space where my mom and he volunteered. He had a key. As we were en route I called the police and asked them to meet us there informing them that I thought my dad was going to kill himself. Of course, the dispatcher immediately asks where he is and I say that I think he is at the shop, giving them the address, then they ask if he has a weapon. I had no clue. I realized I didn’t know what he was truly intending and by what means. It was the first time I recall feeling a tremendous amount of guilt for how I treated him. I had caused him so much pain that he didn’t want to live any longer.

           We pulled into the parking lot and saw his car, the cops weren’t there yet, but I ran into the shop. The door was unlocked and flung open to reveal my father on one of those lifts that utility workers use to fix telephone poles; a noose was around a rafter and the loop lay in his hands. He motioned to position his head through the loop and my mother, and I screamed for him to stop. We were pleading and apologizing, but he had no intention of stopping. This was how he was going to punish me for good. This was how he would make me learn the power of my words and the anguish and pain that they can cause. The cops entered and began asking whether he was armed, to which I screamed no and to f***ing help save him. They ordered him to come down and talk, always speaking in stern yet compassionate voices. Finally, he was down on the ground and they escorted him into the cop car. The cops said that he would be taken to a psychiatric hospital and held for 48-72 hours on an involuntary basis. After that a judge would inform us if we could seek to continue involuntary inpatient treatment based on his doctors’ opinions. Or he could volunteer to be admitted for continued inpatient psychiatric treatment - which of course he felt that he didn’t need despite his suicide attempt.

           Over the next several years there would be more attempts at suicide, all of which would occur when only I was around to deal with it. It was as if he was trying to mess with me and to show me how awful of a person he thought me to be. In retrospect, I do acknowledge that as an undiagnosed and therefore untreated person suffering from the same disease as him, I played a huge role in his untimely death. All the attempts leading up to his successful suicide in 2008 were inflicted by my irresponsible frame of mind and inability to be empathetic towards his condition. I must deal with that awareness for the rest of my life and it plagues me every day.

           I am sharing this story not only as a means of self-therapy, hoping that it will help me accept that I was not myself during the period of my life in which he took his life and that he too played a major role in his own self-destruction. I also hope that by sharing this tragedy with others that it will expose how prevalent mental health issues are in society for people of all ages and that without adequate diagnostic opportunities of our youth we will inevitably see more tragedies unearthed in our aging populations. Too many people go through life no knowing that their pain is due to chemical imbalances and can be treated. However even with increasing exposure to diagnostic opportunities, limited treatment options for the lower-income populations will continue to prevent those who truly need help from being able to receive it. We must do better as a society. We owe it to our youth to find solutions to make life easier for them to cope with. Life should be cherished and not taken advantage of. By increasing awareness of the prevalence of mental health issues in society we can only better the livelihood of all.

[amazingmsme]

Ghost Counselor

Here’s the umbrella academy and spies are forever crossover no one asked for but I wrote anyway. Hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: mentions of gun violence(remember how Owen got shot in the head? yeeeaaah)

Klaus hated ghosts. Correction: he couldn't stand them. Aside from his brother, they all sucked in his opinion. They would scream at him to help them, or just to complain about how they were dead. They'd wail at the top of their lungs and somehow blamed him for their demise. It only got worse once he was sober and now they could touch him and Klaus has never wanted drugs so bad, yet he resisted. He hadn't been this clean in years and he didn't want to throw it all away, not when he was just starting to rekindle his relationship with his family.

Klaus had thought about what their father had said. "You barely scratched the surface of your potential." He hated to say it, but he was right. Klaus could feel there was something more inside of him, but he was hesitant to reach into the untapped reserve of his powers. He saw what Vanya could do, and he didn't want a repeat of that. But he figured he could lay down a basis to get comfortable with his powers. It's not like he had never talked to the ghosts before; most of them didn't listen and instead yelled over him. But some were reasonable. Hell, Ben was exactly how he was in life, smart, sensible, funny, and keeping Klaus from doing anything too stupid. There was also that little girl he had been friends with growing up, but Reginald insisted he was too old for "imaginary friends" and his abusive tendencies had scared her off. He was sort of hoping that after he finally kicked the bucket she'd show back up, but he guessed she was gone for good. 

He decided that he should finally do something about the hoard of ghosts living in the Academy. He thought about when he was with Hazel and Cha Cha and how he was able to talk the ghosts down enough to reason with them. And for the first time, he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. He shared his plan with Ben and was met with encouragement and enthusiasm.

"I think it's a great idea! I mean, the worst they can do is not listen, and if it works they'll leave you alone." Klaus nodded.

"It's worth a shot." He was walking through the livingroom when he saw Diego and stopped him, grabbing him by the straps on his back. Diego whipped around and smacked his hand away.

"What?"

"Whoa, easy bro. I was just gonna tell you that if any of you need me, I'll be in my room, but I'd prefer you not bother me while I'm in there," he explained. His brother narrowed his eyes.

"Why? What are you up to?" He crossed his arms and stared him down. Klaus rolled his eyes.

"Don't get your leather panties in a wad, I'm just trying something out- it might not even work, but it's important."

"If it's so important why not tell me? Is it something illegal?" he questioned. Klaus threw his head back and tossed his arms up in the air.

"No! Geez if you must know I'm finally gonna talk to all these fucking ghosts and see if they'll leave me the hell alone!" Diego was taken aback and blinked.

"O-oh. Okay then, good luck, hope it goes well." He patted him on the shoulder as he passed by. Klaus waved, "Thanks."

Klaus went up to his room, a few spirits already occupying the space. He sighed, "Alright, look. I'm sorry you all died, but it's not my fault, and I can't really do anything to help any of you. You're all pathetic and wallow in self pity instead of trying to move on from this world. And I'm sick and tired of you all screaming at me when I can't do anything! So either you move on and find peace, leave, or if you don't haunt me and make my life a living hell, you can stay. But only if you leave me the hell alone." He was stern and authoritative, trying to use some tactics he's seen Luther use. And it seemed to work mostly.

He stayed in his room for over an entire day, too busy talking to do much of anything else and only came out to use the bathroom or get a drink of water. But he never stopped talking. It was tiring listening to their stories and providing input on their situations, but it was finally done. The screams of the restless were finally gone, and he could breathe again. For the very first time in his life, the house was quiet. The ghosts that remained kept their promise and left him alone. Things were good for a few weeks.

Until he showed up.

It was always difficult getting a read on a ghost's personality. You have no idea who they were in life: they could've been a banker or a murderer and Klaus would be none the wiser. Their motives were unknown, but they always had an unsettling aura around them.

The other siblings had noticed the change in Klaus once the ghosts left him alone. And just as quickly as they noticed, they started picking up on the signs that there were spirits again.

"Are they bothering you?" Luther asked, setting his book down. Klaus jumped and looked at him.

"What?"

"They're back, aren't they?"

Klaus rubbed a hand down his face, resting his chin in his palm. "Some never really left, but there's a new guy. Haven't gotten a good feel on him though, but I'm definitely feeling some bad vibes. A lot of anger and resentment."

Luther furrowed his brows, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Klaus chuckled, "I wish. But he hasn't bothered me, so I can't complain. I don't think he knows I can see him," he whispered. "I just gotta get used to him is all, y'know? It'll be fine."

"I hope so," he leaned over and gave his knee a gentle, comforting squeeze. Klaus smiles and patted his broad back, "Thanks big guy."

And things were fine, for a while. It was hard to study someone and not be too obvious, but Klaus was curious and stole glances when he could. He was cautious; he didn't want to start up another round of wailing ghosts, because once one starts, they all do. They're like damn wolves. It got to where he wouldn't even talk to Ben in he was in the room with them. It ticked him off, but he understood.

"Why not talk to him like you did the others?" he asked.

"Do you not remember how exhausted I was afterward? I laid around the house for days!" Ben only sighed and shook his head.

"There were more ghosts then, this is one guy."

"One bad apple is all it takes," he said.

To be honest, the man was unsettling. Something about him was just off, whoever he was in life, he wasn't like any of the other spirits he dealt with. He walked with a stiff rigidness that Klaus recognized from the war. He had to have served somewhere, or worked for the government at least. But one thing was for sure: only a trained killer moved the way he did. His eyes were harsh, always locked in a glare wherever he looked. He had long black hair slicked back, not a strand out of place and wore a brown bomber jacket. His jaw was crooked, giving him a permanent sly and slightly cocky smirk. The worst thing was that sometimes, there would be a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, huge and gaping and coming out the other side. Klaus had seen many bullet wounds, and he knew he must've been shot point blank. The most notable thing however, was that he never spoke, not even to the other ghosts. And knowing what he knew about this mysterious man, Klaus didn't know if that was worse.

It was a little slip up. A glance that turned into a stare, and instantly the man knew. He perked up from his spot perched on the arm of the couch, right next to Five. He looked around to see if there was anything else that could've caught his attention, but there was nothing. Klaus gulped and looked straight ahead, not daring to give the spirit more proof that he could see him. But it was already too late and he crawled closer to him on the couch, completely passing through Five. The boy shivered slightly and looked around before grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch.

Five noticed how quiet and still his brother had gotten. "Hello? Earth to Klaus?"

"Yup!" He replied quick and with forced enthusiasm. He looked past the man and into Fives eyes, only for the man to move directly in his line of sight. Klaus wanted so badly to look away, but that would just prompt the ghost further. So he tried looking through him to the other side. He could barely make out his brother's worried features.

"Are you okay?"

"Never better bro!" he reassured and flopped into his lap, intentionally going through the spirit in hopes it would scare him off. But he was determined. He watched the two like hawks, and Klaus made sure to keep him in his peripherals.

Five shoved him off, "If you say so." He went back to reading. The ghost stood directly in front of him now and Klaus faked a yawn, flopping over.

"Gonna take a nap." He hovered over him now. He squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"You can see me." Huh. Klaus wouldn't have pegged him as British. "Open your eyes, I know you saw me!" They remained shut. "Damnit I know you can here me! Fucking talk to me!" His mouth was pressed in a thin line. "He fucking killed me twice! That bastard broke my heart and left me for dead!" Klaus bolted up, startling Five. He immediately reached for the lamp to use as a weapon before stopping himself.

"Jesus Klaus what the hell's wrong with you?" he yelled, but received no answer. He was already gone, and the spirit was running after him.

Klaus slammed the door to his room and locked it, even though he knew it was pointless. If he wanted in he would get in. Which is why he stood before him now.

"So. You can see ghosts," he started off. Klaus said nothing and just stared. "I'm gonna take that silence as a yes."

"Leave me alone," he demanded.

"Not until you hear what I've had to say!"

"Damnit I'm done listening to you dead fucks! All you ever do is complain and scream and I've had to put up with it all my life! And as soon as I get some peace and quiet you have to ruin it for me!" He collapsed on his bed, "I'm tired of this shit."

"I'm dead. You're alive. The least you can do is let me tell you about my life."

Klaus let out an exaggeratedly long and particularly heavy sigh. "Spill."

"I'm Owen Carvour." He held his hand out for him to shake. Klaus looked down at it, letting his hand glow blue as he took it in his grasp. Owen seemed impressed, if a little shocked.

"Klaus."

"I know. You and your siblings are very vocal."

"Just say loud, you sound so pretentious." Owen's lips curled in a sneer, "You sound just like him."

"The guy who killed you?" He nodded and began the story. How he was one of the world's top spies, definitely one of the best MI6 had ever seen. His partner Curt was a world renowned spy in his own right, working for the CIA. They were at the top of their game and deeply in love, until that fateful night in Russia. Owen slipped and fell on the banana peel Curt had carelessly dropped and fell a few stories onto the concrete floor. And he left him lying there. Owen left out the part about going rogue and teaming up with Chimera to become the Deadliest Man Alive. He knew Klaus wouldn't understand. He would fear him, tell him he was in the wrong. He knows he's done some questionable things, but he had every right to enact his revenge on Curt. He made him into that monster, and he was ready to rip him to shreds, machete or not. Curt deserved to pay.

"Four years later when we met in the field again, we hashed it out. Things were said, blows were dealt, and in the end, when I wouldn't rejoin him in the field, he raised the gun up to my head and pulled the trigger."

A silence fell over them. "Wow," was all Klaus could manage to say. "That's harsh."

"It is indeed," Owen laughed bitterly. "I hope that bastard rots in hell. But he'll probably waltz right upstairs with a VIP pass just because of how many times he "saved the day." But I can dream."

Months passed by and Klaus and Ben actually became pretty good friends with Owen. He was an interesting man, and they loved hearing his spy stories. Klaus couldn't help but notice how many times Curt was apart of the tale. In return they shared missions from their academy days, and even got around to telling him how they prevented the apocalypse. He was impressed.

"Who would've thought that a washed up dead spy like me would've found you?" Klaus shrugged, "Don't know, but I'm glad it happened!" Owen laughed warmly.

"I will say, death was a lot more boring until you showed up."

"Glad to know I put the life in afterlife!" And maybe it was because they had too many shots(Klaus had manifested Ben and Owen so they could drink some booze) but they all cackled at the joke. But things would soon be less funny.

Curt wondered the streets in search of Owen. He had died of old age not too long ago and had been looking for his ex ever since. It was funny, he looked so much younger as a spirit. I guess that's what happens when you die, your soul returns to its youthful form.

First, he had gone to Owen's old flat in Britain, but when that came up empty, he checked the warehouse in Russia. He scoured all of Europe and Asia before finally moving to America in search of him. He didn't want to give up. He needed to tell him he was sorry; Owen needed to know he still loved him. He had never stopped. He never wanted to kill Owen, but he had given him no choice.

On his trek across America, he came a cross a huge mansion, and he didn't know why, but he was drawn to it. It was pulling him like a magnet, and he wasn't strong enough to resist. He walked in and ignored the living there. He just needed to find the source of the energy, and it didn't take long until he found it. A strange man sat cross legged on the kitchen table and ate a bowl of cereal. He didn't seem to notice him, too busy eating and talking to another ghost.

Just then, another man walked in. Curt would know him anywhere. They instantly locked eyes and Owen stiffened. He scowled and pointed at him, "You!" Klaus and Ben whirled around to see a shocked man standing before them.

"Owen I've been looking everywhere fo-" He couldn't finish his sentence before a fist hit his jaw, and just like that they were fighting. Klaus and Ben slunk away to the safety of his room. No longer than five minutes had passed by when Owen came storming into Klaus room followed by Curt.

"You already ruined my life, isn't that enough for you? Or are you hellbent on ruining my afterlife as well?"

"Owen just listen to me!"

"I'm done listening! You're a selfish coward who only cared about saving his own ass!" Klaus and Ben didn't know what to do. They were both blocking the door, and it didn't seem right to just walk through the middle of their argument.

"I would've never left you if I'd known you were alive! The building was about to explode- I had to get out of there! But I went back through the rubble, I searched for hours 'til Cynthia sent some agents to come get me. They had to drag me away 'cause I refused to leave!"

Owen's features were cold. "I don't believe you."

"After everything we've done together, after all those missions, all those secret nights together you think I would've just left?" His voice was weak and broken. Tears threatened to spill over. "Was it ever even real to you?"

"Was it to you?"

"Of course! Owen I love you!"

"BULLSHIT! If you did you wouldn't have shot me on that staircase!"

Curt's hurt turned to anger. "I gave you a choice! But you refused; you were just going to keep killing and put the world under surveillance with a gun pointed at everyone's head!"

Klaus and Ben shared a look. They knew spies had to kill people, but Curt made it sound like he was some sort of murderer. But Owen was a good guy, right? He was just dealt a shitty hand.

Owen grabbed a book off the shelf and hurled it at Curt's head. He ducked and grabbed a heavy makeup kit off the floor and swung. It phased through the side of Owen's head and he threw the desk chair at him. It went straight through him and hit the wall behind him.

"Hey quit you're wrecking my room!" Klaus yelled, but they didn't listen. The fight continued as they punched and kicked each other. "Guys stop! This is getting out of hand!" Curt punched him in the face and in return, Owen kicked him square in the chest, sending him stumbling into the bookshelf, knocking a few off. He was ready to jump back into it when Klaus finally snapped.

"I said stop!" He shot his hand forward and his entire body glowed blue. Curt and Owen's shimmering apparition stood in the middle of the room, completely frozen.

"I- I can't move," Owen said in shock. Curt looked at Klaus with fearful eyes and even Ben had backed away from him.

"Stop fighting, you won't accomplish anything! You were getting somewhere before you started throwing stuff, so let's go back to talking. I kinda got the feeling I don't have the whole story, and I can't really help you unless I know the truth," Klaus offered. He knew what it was like to be in love, and the way Owen had talked about the old Curt, it was obvious just how much they cared for one another. It made him think of Dave. But if they couldn't be happy together, maybe he could help these poor stubborn souls. He released them and the both gasped, moving their limbs and stretching.

"Yeah, I have no doubt he gave you a very biased version of what really happened," Curt said sarcastically while rolling his shoulders. 

Owen rolled his eyes and cracked his neck. "Oh please, don't act like you wouldn't have done the same."

So Curt explained his side of the story from the fall up until he had to shoot Owen. Anytime he tried to interject, Klaus would shush him.

"You had your time to talk, now it's his turn." Owen scoffed and Curt smiled smugly. Klaus was already pretty put out with the two of them, but knew without his help they'd just go back to fighting and wreck his room.

"I mourned you for four years before going back to the field. I thought you were dead and then you revealed yourself after you tortured and almost killed me." Owen adverted his eyes from the man before him. He found he was unable to look at him while facing the terrible things he'd done. "Do you feel any remorse over what you did when you were the deadliest man alive? I mean hell, what was your kill count again? 1,148? Or isn't it higher, I lost count." Owen glared at him with a fire in his eyes, jaw clenched in anger.

Klaus ran a hand through his hair, "Jesus that's a lot." His comment was ignored as Curt continued.

"'Cause you also killed the Baron, that weird prince, and our informant," he listed off, counting on his fingers. "I believe that makes your total 1,151."

"When I did it I felt nothing. I was Chimera's weapon, their tool to change the world and accomplish their mission. But after my death I've had time to... reflect, on what I did, and I am sorry," Owen admitted. Curt's features finally softened some as he took a step towards him. "But I was blinded by the need for revenge, and they promised me I'd get it if I just did what they asked. It seemed like a pretty sweet deal to me."

"Did you really hate me that much? That you'd do their bidding, kill innocent people, just to get to me?" he questioned. Owen shrugged.

"You left me for dead Curt. That's not something you can just forget. And the fall hurt, but not as much as the explosion." His voice dripped with a venom that burned Curt's heart as he stared into the eyes of the man he once loved, the man that he still loved, despite everything. "I wanted you to feel every bit of the pain I endured. You really are lucky that Tatiana saved you at the last minute 'cause any longer and I would've slit your throat," he spat, staring Curt down. He took the slightest step back, letting out a broken whimper. A breathy chuckle escaped Owen's mouth at that.

Klaus tried to skunk out of the room. It didn't feel right to be listening in on such a heavy and intimate argument, especially when he couldn't just make a joke to lighten the atmosphere. That was always his go to when trying to ease the tension, having always used it on his family. Seeing as that would only make matters worse, he wanted to leave the situation ASAP. But Owen saw him trying to escape and stopped him.

"Stay. We need a moderator in case things get out of hand," he said.

"Shit," Klaus muttered and sat back down.

"I'm gonna go," Ben said, but Klaus grabbed his arm and yanked him back down on the couch.

"If I can't leave neither can you." Ben groaned and flopped onto his back on the bed.

"You would've regretted it though," Curt said confidently even if internally he doubted the statement. Owen scoffed at him.

"Why?" Owen asked. He himself knew why, but didn't want to admit it aloud. Instead, he made Curt answer his own question.

"Because..." he trailed off, his throat going dry. "Because at some point... you loved me." His voice cracked on the word "loved" and tears pricked his eyes. "The only reason I shot you on those stairs was because I know you'd kill me if I didn't kill you first."

"You didn't have to go for the head. You could've- shot the gun out of my hand, or hit someplace where I had a fighting chance to live!" Owen reasoned, throwing his arms up in the air. The bullet hole flashed on his forehead and was gone as quick as it had appeared.

"You're one to talk, you had your gun aimed straight at my heart!" Curt pointed at his chest, gritting his teeth as he spoke. "You were too far gone to be reasoned with and you would've never let me take you in alive."

Owen said nothing.

"If I hadn't have shot, would you have?" Curt asked genuinely. Just like the Curt Owen knew. "And don't lie to me."

"... Yes..."

Curt shook his head. "And you wonder why I had to kill you." Curt closed the distance between them and stood right in front of him. Owen was rigid and flinched when he reached out toward him. "I never stopped missing you. I wish things would've worked out better for us, I really do. But they didn't, and that was a long time ago, in another life. I'm sorry for everything, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me." He looked up wit hopeful eyes.

"I forgive you. And, I'm sorry too. I know I've done some awful things, and I'm ready to move past that." He reaches out and grabbed Curt's hand, interlacing their fingers. "After all, we're both dead, so nothing really matters anymore, does it?"

"The only thing that matters is you," Curt said, bringing their hands up. "I need you to know I never stopped loving you."

"You know Mega? No matter how much I tried to hate you, a little bit of me still loved you, even after all that had happened."

The tender moment was brought to a screeching halt when Klaus's door flew open and Five stood in the door. "Hey Allison said she wanted her skirt back," he informed.

Klaus hopped up, so very ready to leave the tension in the room. "Five buddy, couldn't have come at a better time!" He left without a word, closing his door, Ben following close behind. They both couldn't have been more relieved.

Owen and Curt shared a look. "Did that kid seem familiar to you?"

Owen nodded, "Yes, I thought the same when I first came here. Though I can't quite place my finger on it." They pressed their ears to the door to see if they could listen in on the conversation, but they were too far away. Klaus knew better than to talk right outside a room filled with two of the best spies.

"Thank god, I was having to play marriage counselor for a couple of ghosts," Klaus sighed, slinging an arm around his brother's shoulder. "You really got me out of a pickle."

Five brushed his arm off, "Sounds fun. What were they arguing about?"

"They were spies from the 60's, Owen was left for dead then went on a four year murder rampage before Curt shot and killed him," he gave him the spark notes summary.

Five went pale in the face. This was a story he knew all too well. "Klaus, I need to tell you something."

"Sure little bro. Shoot."

Five ignored the comment, deciding it wasn't worth it to correct him about his age. "I was assigned their case when I worked for the Commission. Long story short, if Owen hadn't turned evil and joined Chimera, the CIA would've never found out about the organization in time and it would've been too late. The whole world would be one big security office with tiny cameras everywhere."

Klaus stared at him in shock. "You mean... you're the reason their lives got fucked up? That's why?" Five nodded.

"I'm not proud of the things I did for the Commission, but I wouldn't be here otherwise." Klaus nodded in understanding.

"Y'know, this could be your chance to apologize. I mean you kind of owe it to them, and it might make you feel better if you do." Five hates when Klaus is right. He huffs out a heavy sigh and runs a hand down his face.

"I guess they deserve to know." Five follows Klaus back to his room. Just to be polite Klaus gives a knock before opening his door. The two of them are still standing in the middle of the room, their attention drawn to the men who entered.

"Are they in here?" Five asked, unable to see them.

"Oh yeah, one sec," Klaus said and conjured them. Five was now staring at the ghosts of his past, a grim reminder to all he had done in order to get where he was. He took a deep breath in. This wasn't going to be easy, especially since his personal skills were lacking. Growing up alone in the apocalypse and becoming a trained assassin tends to make one cold and blunt. He knew this situation required a certain amount of humility and empathy, both of which he knew he was lacking. He had gotten better since he was living with his siblings again, but he hopes it will be enough for what he's about to do.

"Hello, I'm Five, Klaus's older brother," he held out his hand for them to shake. Owen was the first to take it, then Curt.

"Funny, you don't look older," Curt noted.

"Yeah well time travel is easy to fuck up. One miscalculation and I'm thirteen again, but that's aside the point." He was stalling and he knew it. He really didn't want to do this. He just had to get it over with, like ripping off a bandaid. "In order for me to get back to my timeline, I had to work for a company called the Commission. They're in charge of keeping the timeline on order and making sure that certain events happen." They were staring at him intently, seemingly intrigued.

"I was assigned your case. Agent Carvour, when you fell I had to make sure that Curt didn't find you. You were unconscious from the explosion and didn't hear his calls which made it easy to take Agent Mega back to the CIA." They both stood in shock, eyes wide open and mouth slightly agape. "We needed you to join Chimera and gain the status of the deadliest man alive to attract the government's attention, otherwise they never would've found out about the organization until it was too late. They would've taken over the world."

"So you ruined our lives instead?" Curt seethed. He refused to look at him and clenched his fists at his side. Five's gaze didn't waver.

"Unfortunately, that's what had to be done. And Prince Feurgin and Baron Von Nazi had to be killed. Otherwise the Prince would've formed an alliance with Russia and kickstarted World War III. Russia would've teamed up with Germany, and it would've lead to a nuclear fallout. I'm sorry that things had to turn out the way they did. I really am. You guys seem like good men who didn't deserve this, but the fate of the world depended on it."

"You ripped away my life to be brainwashed and used as a weapon! You turned me against the love of my life!" Owen yelled in shock. Curt's head whipped toward him, his eyes full of admiration.

"I'm the love of your life?"

"Not now Curt," he waved him off before turning back to Five. "I died because of what you did."

"So have a lot of people; that's what happens when you're an assassin. But you know all about that." Owen tried to lunge forward, and Curt had to hold him back. Five stood his ground, unafraid of the angry spirit.

"I was only following orders because I had no choice. Surely you can understand." Owen's nostrils flared, his mouth pressed in a thin line. Curt fixed him with a hard glare, but it was clear: they both understood.

"You both deserve to be happy, and I hope that death treats you well." He looked at the two men, holding each other in a close embrace and smiled. "I think it already is." Curt and Owen looked at each other before returning their gaze to the young looking man in front of him. "I'm not proud of what I've done, but it would mean a lot to me if you could find it in yourselves to forgive me."

There was a long tense silence. Owen was the first to break it. He nodded. "Okay." Curt agreed, "It wasn't your fault. You just had to get the job done."

It was like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders and Five gave a genuine smile. It was the first time Klaus had seen him smile like that in ages.

"Thank you. You both are very reasonable gentlemen and I wish you the best." They said their thanks and Five gave a small wave as he left the room. Klaus collapsed on his bed next to Ben. The pair of ghosts directed their attention to him.

"Thank you Klaus. This never would've happened without you."

Klaus grinned shyly and shrugged it off, "It was nothing. Now go, you two have a lot to catch up on."

Curt and Owen smiled at each other and ran out of the room hand in hand. Things definitely weren't perfect, but with a little bit of time and healing, he felt that it might be.

[wistfulcynic]

Another Brick In The Wall, Chapter 5

a/n: No secret quite yet, but more clues! Plus Brothers Jones and Emma. I have to give special thanks to @darkcolinodonorgasm for giving me a new perspective on Liam, who I’ve never particularly liked as a character. I hope you like him here! 

New, serious-this-time-summary: Emma Swan, sheriff’s daughter, mayor’s niece, quarterback’s girlfriend, is the undisputed princess of Storybrooke High. She is smart and confident and used to getting what she wants. What she wants is Killian Jones, the new boy in school. But Killian is not easily manipulated, and reluctant to allow the dark secrets in his past to touch the girl he is rapidly falling in love with.

Rating: T+

Read it on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Tags for: @jennjenn615 and @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter 5: 

It was astounding and rather disturbing to Killian how different his life at Storybrooke High became after Emma’s party. Where before he had been largely able to repel his classmates by hiding behind his laptop and headphones, turning Neal’s attempted frame job around on him seemed to have garnered Killian something of a reputation. Suddenly everyone was interested in knowing him better. People he didn’t think he’d ever even seen before were now greeting him by name in the halls, and the giggling girls who were so fascinated by hearing him pronounce simple words had unaccountably multiplied. He took to hiding out in a quiet corner of the library at lunchtime, just to get some peace. Fortunately the library was a bridge too far for most of his newfound fans, and only Emma managed to hunt him down there. 

He didn’t mind that so much. 

“I was worried people would be mad when Neal got suspended from the football team and blame you,” Emma confessed to him one Friday lunchtime in November, about three weeks after her party. “But it turns out everyone pretty much hated him and only put up with his crap because he won football games. And it helps that August has really come through. He’s a junior, and never had much chance to play until now because Neal hogged all the game time, but I really think he’s got more talent than Neal. He’s better at calling plays and doesn’t throw so many dumb interceptions because he’s trying to make a big play to make himself look good. And our running game has gotten way better because Neal always wanted to run passing plays, even on third and short yardage. It was seriously annoying sometimes.”

“Swan,” said Killian in exasperation, “You do know that I only understand about one out of every three of those words, and no one has yet been able satisfactorily to explain to me why a you call this game ‘football’ when only one player’s foot ever even touches the ball. Can we talk about something else, please?”

Emma laughed. “Sure. You doing anything this weekend?”

Killian flushed pink. “I’m going sailing with my brother, then we’re cooking dinner together.” 

“That sounds great,” said Emma, wondering why he looked so embarrassed. “Any special occasion?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “It’s my birthday,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly. 

“What?!” 

“It’s my birthday, okay? Today, actually. But of course I have school and Liam has work, so we’re celebrating tomorrow.” He noted with alarm her wide eyes and excited face. “Emma, no,” he begged. “Please don’t make a big deal about this.”

“But it’s your birthday!” 

“And I just want it to be a low-key day, no big celebration, no stress.” 

She tried not to feel deflated. “Just you and your brother.” 

“Unless you’d care to come along?” Killian tried not to sound too hopeful, tried not to be too hopeful, though the idea of spending a whole Saturday with Emma, even with Liam along as well, was just about the best birthday gift he could imagine. 

“Could I?” asked Emma, not troubling to hide her own hopefulness. 

“Um, do you want to?”

“Well… yeah, actually. It sounds really fun. I haven’t been sailing in ages, and I’d kinda like to meet your brother. You talk about him so much I feel like I know him already.” 

“Funny, he says the same about you,” said Killian without thinking. 

“You talk to your brother about me?”

She had that look in her eyes again, the one she’d had at her party right before she kissed him. The one that said she wanted to kiss him again. The one that made him want to let her. Killian gave himself a mental slap. Damn it, no! “Well, you are basically my only friend, Swan, who else would I talk about?” he said, attempting to cover his slip. 

“Maybe I was your only friend, but you seem to have acquired quite a few little admirers lately.” She sounded disgruntled, and he felt absurdly pleased. 

“You’re still my only friend,” he assured her. “And I would be honoured to have you accompany Liam and me on my birthday sailing trip. And to dinner too, if you like.” 

“Didn’t you say you’re cooking together?” she said hesitantly. “I’m not much of a cook.” 

“No, nor I, but Liam is a master of the barbecue, so we’re going to do steaks.” 

“What, outside?” He nodded. “In November? In Maine?”

“We’re from England, love, if we let a little miserable weather deter us from barbecuing we’d never get steak.”

“All right,” she laughed. In that case, I’d love to.” 

His answering smile was radiant, sending the familiar butterflies dancing through her belly, this time in a sophisticated cha-cha-cha. She wanted to kiss him so badly when he looked like this that resisting the urge took a physical effort. 

“We’re scheduled to cast off at ten, so why don’t you meet us at the marina at nine forty-five?” he said. 

“Okay,” she agreed, just as the bell rang signalling the end of lunchtime. They gathered their things and walked to their history class together, not holding hands but both definitely thinking about it, wishing they could, their arms hanging loose at their sides, hands as close as they could get without actually touching. Upon arrival they went to their desks at opposite sides of the classroom, their history teacher having assigned seats at the beginning of the semester. Emma scowled slightly as she watched Killian take his seat between Aurora and Tina, two juniors who had always giggled to each other over him but whose flirting had reached new hights of coquetry In the weeks since the party. She watched as they peppered him with questions and he smiled and charmed them with his replies, and she couldn’t believe they didn’t see how tense he was beneath the charm and how he visibly relaxed when the teacher stood up and started the class, drawing their attention away from him. 

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

“So what time is your girlfriend getting here?” shouted Liam, loud enough to wake the dead. 

Killian sighed. He knew that Liam was just trying to lighten the mood with his teasing but really wished he wouldn’t. His brother knew perfectly well that Emma wasn’t Killian’s girlfriend. What he didn’t know is how the knowledge that she could be tormented Killian, and how any teasing on that point just drove the knife point deeper into his heart. Knowing that he could have her, her smiles and her kisses and her hand in his as they walked through the halls at school, that all that and more was within his reach if he could only forget about all the reasons why he couldn’t take it ate away at him. If he could just bring himself not to care about the consequences, to be a heartless bastard who didn’t give a damn about anyone else, then he could have what he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anything before in his life. 

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he longed for Emma, he couldn’t do it. 

Liam was thrilled he’d made a friend, and that the friend was a girl. He thought it meant that Killian was forgetting, moving on, and that Emma actually becoming his girlfriend was only a matter of time. 

But Liam didn’t know the worst of it, the full weight of the burden Killian carried, bearing it alone because he didn’t dare share it. As much as he wished to tell Liam or Dr Hopper or Emma or anyone —really, anyone, as long as it wouldn’t be his alone to carry anymore— he was too scared of what they might do, of the potential consequences of people bumbling in trying to fix what they didn’t understand. He would fix it, when he got back to England. It had to be him. 

It had been four months. Another five to go. Nearly eight until the AP exam results would be released. Killian felt panic rising in him at the thought of that three month gap, but he swallowed it back. It would be okay. He forced himself to breathe deeply, calmly. It would be okay. He would fix it. 

Before he could answer Liam’s question, Emma’s yellow bug swung into a parking space right near where their boat was moored. She hopped out, smiling brightly, and Killian’s heart leapt and tumbled in his chest. She was so impossibly beautiful, he thought, so beautiful and bright and pure and good, and just everything he could ever wish for in a girl. Everything he could have had if he hadn’t made made such terrible mistakes, hadn’t completely fucked up his life before it had even really begun. But he pushed those thoughts away. She was here now, to celebrate his birthday with him, and he intended to enjoy what time he had with her. He grinned foolishly as she approached, keeping his hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets to stop himself reaching for her. 

She was dressed in chinos and deck shoes and a bright red woollen coat, with a beanie on her head and a large scarf wrapped around her neck. She laughed. “It’s freaking freezing out here, Jones,” she said. “And it’ll be even colder on the water. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“It’s not cold, Swan, it’s bracing,” he said firmly, and she laughed again. He was so caught up in the delightful sound of it that he didn’t notice Liam appearing at his elbow until his brother loudly cleared his throat. Killian glanced over, grimacing at Liam’s appraising look and raised eyebrow. 

“Um, Emma, this is my brother Liam,” he said grudgingly.  

“Mr Jones,” said Emma, flushing slightly and looking suddenly nervous. 

Liam’s smile widened. “Call me Liam, I beg you,” he said. “There must be no undue formality between the only two people in the world able to stomach the company of my little brother.” 

He elbowed Killian, who rolled his eyes. “Younger brother,” he muttered, not quite under his breath. 

Liam chuckled and gestured for Emma to follow him onto the boat. “So, Emma, what sort of sailing experience do you have?”

“Well, my dad has a boat.” 

“Ah, yes, Sheriff Swan. He’s been down here a few times.” 

“Yeah, when I was little we used to go sailing quite a lot, but for the past couple of years it seems like we never have the time.” 

“Your father mentioned you were busy with cheerleading and college applications.”

“Yeah, that’s mostly it.” 

“Where are you planning to study?”

“I’m hoping for Columbia, or else NYU or Boston University.” 

“Any ideas about your major?”

Killian scowled as his brother drew Emma away, busying her with pre-sailing tasks as they chatted. How the hell did Liam know so much about American universities all of a sudden, he wondered crossly. He’d only just learned what a major was himself. 

“I’d like to do psychology, maybe with a criminal justice minor. I’m thinking of being a forensic psychologist.” 

Killian’s scowl deepened. She’d never told him that. Of course, they’d never really discussed their plans for the future aside from his intention to return to England. Suddenly he felt desperately sad, realising that he’d likely never know if Emma achieved her goals. 

Though he had little doubt that she would. She was brilliant and determined, there wouldn’t be much she couldn’t do. If only he could be there to see her succeed. 

“Ahoy there, Killian, don’t just stand there like a lump!” shouted Liam. “Come and help us prepare to set sail. You check the sheets while Emma tells us what exactly a forensic psychologist does.”

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

They sailed out to the edge of Storybrooke’s cape then around the harbour before heading back to their mooring. It was just as cold as Emma had feared, the icy wind whipping her hair into a frenzy and turning the tips of Killian’s ears so red that she worried he’d get frostbite. Pulling her beanie off her head, she thrust it at him. “Put this on,” she commanded. 

“What?”

“Put the hat on, idiot, before your ears fall off.” 

“And what about your ears, Swan?”

“I’ve got my scarf. See?” She wrapped the scarf over her head and around her neck, securing it underneath the collar of her coat. “It’s actually better like this because it holds my hair down. Now put on the damn hat.” 

“Such language, princess,” he teased, pulling the hat on over his ears, where it looked just ridiculously cute. “I’ve never heard you curse so fluently. Is it the influence of us rough seamen?” He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed, throwing back her head and shoving him playfully in the chest. 

Liam watched their byplay, not bothering to hide his delighted grin. It warmed his heart to see his brother smiling like that again, and after meeting Emma he had no qualms about encouraging their relationship. They were both so obviously smitten, the looks they gave each other so positively brimming with teenage angst and longing that Liam felt it could only be a matter of time before Killian finally gave in and asked her out properly. He had clung far longer than Liam had expected to this obligation he seemed to feel towards Milah Gold, but that was firmly in the past now, and Liam had no intention of letting his brother stumble down a similar path ever again. Killian was seeing Dr Hopper regularly and making good progress, according to the psychiatrist’s reports. He was getting good marks in school, seemed to enjoy playing his music again, and now he had a pretty girl his age who was clearly crazy about him. The tight knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in Liam’s chest the previous summer and had been his constant companion ever since eased slightly. The decision to move Killian to America despite his vehement protests had been the right one, Liam was more sure of that now than ever. His little brother was healing, slowly, but he would get there. Soon he would be his old self again. 

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

It was well past eleven when Emma finally dragged herself away from the Jones house after one of the single best days she could remember, sailing and grilling and eating steak and loaded baked potatoes and birthday cake until she couldn’t eat any more. Killian had played his guitar and Liam had sung along; even she had joined in after considerable coaxing and teasing from both of them. She didn’t think she’d ever laughed so hard in her life. Resolutely, she ignored the plaintive voice in her head urging her to stay just a few minutes longer, knowing that she needed time to drive slowly through the icy streets in order to make it home for her midnight curfew. 

Killian walked her to her car. “Thanks for coming today, Emma,” he said softly, taking the beanie from his pocket and pulling it down onto her head, letting his fingertips brush through her hair as he did. “It was the best birthday I’ve had in a while.” 

“I had a great time,” she replied. He dropped his hands from her hair but she caught them and placed them on her hips, stepping closer and leaning her head against his shoulder, smiling as she heard him catch his breath. She let go of his hands and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding her own breath for an anxious few seconds until he finally pulled her close, his arms enclosing her tightly. Sighing, she melted into the hug. “Happy birthday, Killian,” she whispered.  

They stood like that for as long as Emma dared, until finally she knew she had to get going. As she started to pull back Killian’s arms tightened around her almost reflexively, as if not wishing to let her go. She looked up at him, their faces so close there was barely a breath between them, and willed him to kiss her. 

She knew it had to be his move. She’d made the last one, now it was up to him. 

He swayed towards her, his eyes fixed on her lips as his own parted slightly, and she fisted her hands in his coat, forcing herself to wait. She could almost feel the conflict within him as he struggled against his attraction to her, and against whatever he was holding inside that wouldn’t allow him to act on it. The tension stretched her nerves tight and the butterflies performed an energetic jitterbug in her belly until Killian seemed to pull himself out of a trance, blinking rapidly and shaking himself and then abruptly his arms were gone and he was stepping away. 

“Drive safely, love,” he said hoarsely. 

Emma hid her disappointment behind a bright smile. “See you at fencing club tomorrow?” she asked, her own voice lower than normal. 

“I’ll be there.” 

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

Outside the door of Dr Hopper’s office, Neal waited. This time of year darkness fell quite early in Maine, and the sun had long since set by the time the psychiatrist went home for the day, whistling as he went. The office door closed behind him with a decisive click and he followed an eager Pongo to the exit, not noticing the boy hidden in the deep shadows of the darkened hallway. 

Once he was sure he was alone Neal knelt in front of the door, withdrawing a set of lock picks from his pocket and quickly jimmying the door open. No security at all, he thought scornfully. You’d think the man guarding Storybrooke’s darkest secrets would have a sturdier lock. He hurried to the filing cabinet, picking that lock just as easily, and soon he had in his hands the thick manila file bearing the name of Killian Jones. Placing it on the coffee table, he made himself comfortable on the sofa and flipped the file open, illuminating its contents with the flashlight from his phone. 

Several minutes later he sat back, feeling gleeful and exhilarated, and thoroughly pleased with himself. This was fucking huge and with it he could annihilate Killian, not just at school but also with Emma. There was no way she would forgive him. Not a prissy little prude like her. Not for this. 

Grinning smugly, he snapped a few pictures with his phone then returned the file to the cabinet and locked everything behind him as he left. For the first time in his life, he couldn't wait to get back to school

(We’ll get the secret in the next chapter, I promise!)

[keevansixx]

Nowhere...

  Yesterday, I died. It just happened, no rhyme, no reason, the vessel that housed me stopped working. This mortal coil shed, like a serpent leaving behind a dried out skin snagged on a twig in an old forest. I feel nothing, no cold, no pain, no hunger nor thirst....I am, yet I am not...

What they don't tell you anything about dying in books, religious dogmas, and human mythology, is that there is no time in death...well, there is a sort of sense of time, but there is no way to measure it, quantify it, give it a steady pace to determine a forward progression the living rely on so much. If I concentrate hard enough I could watch myself die, very slowly, repeatedly over a long span, or just that brief spark when I stopped breathing, and everything grew still around me in the dimension of the living.

 I spend a span of moments doing this....traveling forwards and backwards along a strand of time, visiting small snippets of my former life. All the happy moments, pausing for some span at the faces and places I had long forgot. I see my mother, young, happy, pregnant with what was me, sitting in a chair and humming softly at her belly...her hand tracing lazy circles around the little footprints I was pressing into the sides of her womb while she whispered her dreams of whom she hoped I would become. I see my father, young, in fatigues fighting a useless war in a foreign land, joking with his buddies about the girls back home, while he stares at a laminated photo of me my mother mailed to him...I see him kiss the picture, then say "my son..." as he holds it to his chest. I see my grandfather's smile the first time he held my infant form cradled in his arms. I travel to and fro, seeing all that had transpired in my life, and all the little things I missed as I lived. If it were even possible to cry in the afterlife, I couldn't tell....just the wash of emotions both happy and sad without the mechanisms to adequately express them.

I grow bored after awhile, so I move backwards seeing history rewind, pausing at all the interesting bits, and learning all the truths that historians got wrong, or misinterpreted, or just plain lied just to make a name for themselves, or support the dogma of the day. I hear other voices out here in oblivion as they too travel to and fro observing what was, have been, or will ever be....sometimes we converse, discussing a moment trying to get to the truth of it all, but mostly we move along our paths with nary a notice each of passing.

I travel forwards, seeing all that will be...amazed at some things, horrified by others, sad, happy, and phantom scratching at what I assume to be the equivalent of my head. The future for us is unwritten, you see.... constantly changing, and only becomes tangible when their moments have passed into history. I answer some questions as best I can from those future souls inquiring about my small tiny piece of time. In exchange, they tell me bits and pieces of their journeys and what will be....not necessarily equivalent exchange, as the souls I encounter from the future are numerous and constantly in flux with their outcomes not entirely set in stone...

existence, for me, passes....time to move on.

I'm just hovering in nothing....to my right a passageway that looks warm and inviting. To my left, a passageway that looks stark, cold, and ominous. I hear voices from each hallway, and take my time investigating each corridor. After some length, I surmise that each corridor is the human equivalent of heaven or perdition. I am given a choice....left or right, hell or nirvana, order or chaos....

They each make their case...opening their gates wide waiting for me to enter. It feels like a trap, either way....but I listen. One side offers peace, tranquility, bliss but no ambition, no creativity. It's the end reward of the final level of a lackluster game and you only made a passing score. The other side offers ambition and challenge, but at the total lack of joy, compassion, love, or any other of the rewards that would motivate someone to grow. It's a Korean grinder, and the rewards follow a law of diminishing returns so I would be stuck in an endless loop for an eternity or more. 

I'm drawn towards the right passage...I was raised theist, and everyone wants to go to heaven, at least that is what all the dogmas would have you to believe,  but I pause....it looks peaceful, serene, not like the cover art of the Led Zeppelin album "houses of the holy" all many steps and columns, and most tranquil. It looks like whatever I most want in the universe in smaller scale....hollow, steadfast, but never changing. The set pieces are permanent, and I'm just expected to exist and be happy forever.

I amble back to the void to ponder my choices, left or right. I float forward towards an impossibly massive wall, all the while contemplating the pros and cons of either choice. The wall is neither of substance, nor form, but it exists none the less. My fingers slide across it's surface, feeling the texture as I float and ponder. This goes on for some time until my fingers find the tiny beginning of a crack....

I float along the tiny fissure within the unblemished surface of the wall, and as I float upwards following the crack, my fingers notice the changes as I travel upwards, growing larger and larger the farther I travel along. I could not discern the distances involved, but it felt like a very long time, all the while the crack growing ever wider and wider until I could no longer feel the sides between my arms. I stop.....before me is nothing....no lights, no sound, nothing...and being the curious child I ever was, started floating forwards into this new void.

a voice speaks out in the darkness "ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS? AFTER ALL, THE CHOICES WERE TAILORED TO FIT YOUR NEEDS... "

wait...what?!

"SERIOUSLY...THERE IS NO GOING BACK AFTER THIS..."

Ok.....who is this?

"WHOM DO YOU THINK THIS IS?"

*rolls what passes for eyes* duh....why do you think i'm asking? You tell me...

"I'VE HAD MANY NAMES...WHICH ONE WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO GO BY?"

Ummmm.....is this god?

"MAYBE....MAYBE NOT. IT'S HARD TO KEEP A NAME IN ALL EXISTANCE, THINGS ARE ALWAYS CHANGING, IN FLUX, BUT IF IT'LL MAKE YOU FEEL ANY BETTER...YOU CAN CALL ME GOD IF YOU WANT TO..."

yeeeeeahhh, this is a little too much to believe right at the moment....

"TAKE YOUR TIME....IT'S NOT LIKE WE'RE GOING ANYWHERE."

It's so dark...why can't I see you?

"BECAUSE....I HAVN'T BEEN CREATED HERE YET. TELL YOU WHAT, JUST HOLD YOUR HAND UP, AND SNAP YOUR FINGERS FOR A BIT....I PROMISE YOU IT WILL BE WORTH IT.....GO ON."

yeah....yeah.....sure. I hold up my hand in the void, and snap my fingers a few times. After each snap, a small light, like a pinprick, starts to grow, shedding light into the area I exist in. Growing larger and larger till the light fills the space, and everything there is revealed. From the center of the light I hear the voice again...sounding more directional and focused than it was mere moments ago.

"NOW THAT WASN'T HARD NOW...WAS IT?"

well....no. but I'm not sure just what exactly did I do.

"CREATION..."

what?

"CREATION...YOU MADE SOMETHING FROM NOTHING. GIVE YOURSELF A LITTLE PAT ON THE BACK, MOST THINGS DON'T MAKE IT THIS FAR..."

ok...now i'm really confused....I just did what you told me to do.

"IF YOU HAD DONE WHAT I TOLD YOU TO DO, YOU WOULD HAVE MADE A CHOICE BACK AT THE GROTTO, AND WE WOULDN'T BE HAVING THIS PARTICULAR CONVERSATION, NOW WOULD WE?"

heh, well you do have a point....now what?

"CREATE SOME MORE...."

create? what would I create?

"ANYTHING YOU WANT, ANYTHING YOU DREAM, ANYTHING YOU CAN IMAGINE....HAVE FUN."

wait...wait...wait....hold on one sec. You mean if I imagine there is a tiny beagle puppy named snoopy sitting there at my feet, it's just going to magically appear? at which point the puppy appears with a little golden nametag dangling from it's collar, and yapps excitedly while wagging it's tail...I pick it up, and it licks my face lovingly as I realize I now have a face, and I feel the puppies slobbery tongue caress my wet cheek.

ok....this is a bit too much, don't cha think? I mean, I can feel myself and that should be impossible because I'm dead. There is a puppy here that wasn't here before and that in itself should be impossible, but there it sits.....and just when did this dirt plain appear? this is all so crazy!!! I'm going insane....that has to be it....i'm loosing my marbles from floating out here alone for so long.

"YOU ARE NOT CRAZY, THE PUPPY IS REAL, AND EVERYTING APPEARED BECAUSE YOU WISHED IT TO BE....ANYTHING ELSE YOU MAY BE CONFUSED WITH?"

yeah.....i'm confused with everything, I don't know where I am, what I am, how all this can be. I know that I used to be a average dude, living in the woods, loving life, dealing with stuff, and trying to be the nicest, honest, caring person I could ever be.....I often failed, but for the most part, at least I tried, and that has to count for something, right?

"HMMMM, WELL... WHO YOU ARE IS WHO YOU CHOSE TO BE. WHERE YOU ARE, IS WHERE YOU ALWAYS WERE OR ALWAYS WANTED TO BE, BUT EVEN THAT CAN BE CHANGED IF IT IS WHAT YOU TRULY WANT TO HAPPEN. AND ALL OF THIS CAN BE...BECAUSE YOU CHOSE THE PATH NOT TAKEN... THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE NOW...MAKE IT WHAT YOU WANT IT TO BE."

so....does that make me god?

"IF THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY, THEN YES, BE A GOD. BUT I'VE FOUND THAT JUST BEING YOURSELF IS FAR MORE REWARDING THAN TRYING TO BE SOMEONES DIETY ANY DAY. BEING DEIFIED IS TOUGH, AT FIRST IT'S ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL THEY FIGURE OUT YOU EXIST...THEN IT'S ALL WORK WORK WORK.....GOD GRANT ME THIS, GODDESS DELIVER ME FROM THAT, ALLAH BLESS EVERYTHING, BHUDDA BLESS MY SHRINE, VISHNU MAKE THE CROPS GROW...IT'S EXHAUSTING I TELL YOU. JUST BE YOURSELF, AND BE KIND...THE REST WILL SORT ITSELF OUT IN DUE TIME."

ummm, thanks? I guess....

"OH YEAH....BEFORE I GO. MY LAST BIT OF ADVICE. LOVE. THAT'S IT....JUST LOVE. YOU ARE GOING TO NEED IT. IT MAKES THE TIME FLY, AND HELPS OUT WITH ALL THE TOUGH STUFF. AND NEVER CREATE ANYTHING OUT OF SPITE....IT JUST LEADS TO HEADACHES DOWN THE ROAD OF TIME. OK THEN....HAVE FUN, AND DON'T FORGET TO SWEEP UP BEFORE YOU LEAVE."

hold up, you're just going to leave me here all alone? by myself? all alone?

"YOU'RE NEVER ALONE....YOU'VE GOT A PUPPY, AND ALL OF CREATION. YOU'LL BE FINE. TRUST ME. IF IN DOUBT, MAKE A KITTY...THEY'LL KEEP YOU IN CHECK, AND HELP YOU SEE THINGS MORE CLEARLY. GOOD LUCK!"

Ok.....i'll try, and thank you....well.....for everything.

"YOU'RE WELCOME."

The last echoes of it's voice fade into the evening sun. I walk down a gentle path I created in my mind towards a small lake and nice house I dreamed up while walking. Snoopy is gracefully bounding in the tall grasses by the path spooking up birds, rabbits, deer, squirrel, and all manner of critter with each passing step. The breeze is cool, and the sunlight warm on my skin as I approach my new home. A kitten greets me by the front door, it's mewing telling me it needs fed and a few belly rubs for good measure. It was a good day. Tomorrow, I might just try to make a universe, but today i'm just going to relax, unwind, and enjoy what is already here for a moment longer. who knows....maybe another person will come along and creation will just be that less lonely. As I prepare for bed, I think about all that has happened, reflective, pensive, and somewhat excited for the days ahead...It also leaves me questioning why the other voice told me to sweep up after i'm through...is there somewhere beyond the realms of god? or just another nowhere to be created again and again? i'll figure it out eventually...but for now...this is my undiscovered country, after all. time enough to make the most of it.

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

(I wake up....Meh....alarm clock goes off, I blearily stumble to the loo, take one look in the mirror, and swear to myself that I will never ever again drink mescal before going to bed, as I run a grizzled hand through the remainder of my thinning hair. never again.)

[trashpandaorigins]

And If You Don’t Love Me Now  Ch. 6

When Rocket wasn’t inspecting the waret or the protected cargo holds, when he wasn’t tag teaming with Quill to navigate to Gravior, or trying to push aside the walls of Groot’s iron apathy, in the quiet moments aboard the ship, (which were few,) he sat and tried to repair the malfunctions of his cybernetics. Groot had wordlessly depart their room, as per usual, to spar with Drax and Kraglin.“I thought you were gonna help me fix the broken electrics in the southern chambers!” Rocket shouted at the adolescents back. Groot turned, his side almost fully healed. The raccoonoid looked at him, blinking, waiting for some recognition. For anything. The hard-dark eyes only narrowed, deep shades of brown barely gleaming a touch of wanton sympathy.“

Groot….” Rocket began, words filling his throat. The teen turned, walking from the room with finality and leaving the door open, just as gaping as the feeling in his chest. “Flark it,” he mumbled, going to his bed and reaching underneath for the draw of nick knacks. He withdrew his cleaning cloths and ointments, a wrench and a screw driver and took a deep breath. He knew the routine well and didn’t think about the pain he was going to feel as he undid the top of his customary jumpsuit. Looking through the faded dirty mirror Rocket made an effort to fix the knots and bolts in his back, each wipe of ointment and twerk of wrench making his body spasm with electric hurt.

 “F…fuck..” he breathed, leaning forward and gripping the edge of his bed

“Knock knock,” Gamora said quietly. Rocket didn’t bother to hide his small smile. Such meetings had become routine in the months and years since Groot was a small infant. She took the wrench and screw driver from him and sat herself down behind him all without words. Rocket gritted his teeth as she stuck the wrench to the lowest bolt in his back and twisted.

“Shit….” He whispered. Gamora poured more of the ointment on his torn flesh and rubbed it soothingly. She moved on to another section, this one slightly less painful.

“How is Groot?” She finally asked, Rocked sighed begrudgingly.

“You’d know better than me,” he grumbled through his fangs.

“Hold still,” the assassin ordered and pulled once, sending sparks from the panel in his back dazzling. Rocket’s arms and legs tightened, his tail rigid. Blood slicked down his back from the wounds where skin met metal.“You’re allergic to this,” Gamora stated, resting her palm gently on his shoulder. Her hand felt surprisingly smooth and welcome on his fur.“Yeah,” he reached around and finished tightening the bolt with his own fingers. 

“It’s a low-grade reaction.” He didn’t need to turn around to sense Gamora’s unhappiness.“Rocket….”

“Don’t.” He snapped. “I know what you’re gonna say, don’t say it.” Gamora only applied more of the soothing stuff and continued to work on his repairs.

“I have to tell you something Rocket,” Gamora spoke in hushed tones as she worked through his fur.“Yeah what?”

“…How much have you told Groot. About what happened on Xandar?” Rocket’s ears pricked up.

“Nothing. I mean, I told him how we met and everything, told him about the good times and a lot of the bad. Told him how we met you guys but nothing about….wait why are you even askin me?” He looked over his shoulder at her. She focused intently on the knots in his fur and grimaced.

“Peter told me…that Groot asked him about…what happened before his pot”“I swear to the gods if star fucker…”

“He didn’t say anything Rocket. He would never say anything without talking to you first. But you…you have to tell Groot. That’s probably why he’s been…so restless.” The racconooid laughed bitterly.

“Restless, tsch, that’s one way to put it.” Gamora sighed.“You need to tell him.”

“I can’t!” Rocket exploded, turning to face her. “He’s my best friend and….”

“That’s the point Rocket, he’s not your best friend.” She spoke not unkindly. “Not anymore. He’s his own person and he’s trying to figure out who that is. The more you keep from him, the worse off he’ll be. If you love him like I know you do…you’ll tell him.”

“I know he ain’t my best friend no more!!” he snarled, clenching his fists against the hot burning fire in his limbs and turning away once more. His vision swam as he blinked away the black shadows on the edge of his site. “…I made peace with that,” he coughed through his pain. “More or less.” Gamora finished cleaning the bolts and gently spread more ointment over the raised scars. Rocket bit his lip as she carefully wet a rag and dampened the bleeding scabs around the metal. “….I know this Groot ain’t the one who saved us but….every time I look at him I see him and…I just…” Rocket closed his eyes and the large flora colossus, smiling and staring at butterflies came into full view. “I miss him so much,” tears welled in his eyes, running with the water that ran down his back. Gamora fiddled with a knot in his fur, disentangling it and stroking his fur rhythmically.

“I miss him too Rocket,” she whispered. “He sacrificed his life, not only for you but for me as well. After hardly knowing me…after I hacked off his arms and sliced his torso. “No one had ever done that for me…a tool of Thanos…”

“You are NOT a tool of that psycho Gams, I don’t know how many times I have to tell yah.”“I didn’t deserve it. But he gave his life for mine and…I will never be able to repay that debt. But I try, every day, to help raise this Groot with patience…and forgiveness and love. It’s the least I can do.” Rocket nodded at her quiet voice.

“I just don’t want him to end up like me,” he repeated. Gamora straightened and wiped at the edge of her eye.

“Would that be so bad?” She joked, wiping down the last of his cybernetics and gave him a strong pat. Rocket grinned but felt his heart fall. He can’t be like me…I don’t want him to be so broken…so afraid…

“Thank you Gams,” he managed.“

Anytime Rock, now…I think Groot just needs… BEEP, BEEP,BEEP red lighting flooded the room.

“Shit!” The raccoonoid scurried down from his seat and pressed the comms button. “Quill! What the flark is going on?!” Star-Lord’s voice came in grainy and broken,

“A….sh…ship…must’ve tracked us from C…con..tra…tracxia and waited util we were further..e…enough out…” Bam! Bam, bam, bam, the room pitched and banked on to it’s side sending a rattling throughout the chamber. Gamora whipped out her sword instantly.

“Ravagers?!”

“I…if they are…I do..don’t know em! Just..g..get up here now!”

“Fuck balls,” Rocket scrambled for his gun, hefting over both of his shoulders and ran after Gamora, his tail struggling to balance him as he ran to the cockpit. “Didn’t you upgrade our security systems?” She asked, stumbling forward and grabbing on to the railing.

“I did! I don’t know how they spotted us!” Drax’s thundering footfalls came up behind them, and Rocket slid to the side letting out an involuntary yelp. Shame welled in his stomach watching the warrior go, knives brandished like a mad man. If Groot wanted anything to do with him, he’d be perched on his shoulder right now. Granted still not as high as before, but better then running on the ground, terrified of being stepped on. Rocket adjusted his weight on the gun as he barged into the cockpit. The ship spun and the whole team fell crashing on top of each other,

“Blam!”

“Fuck!” Peter gripped the wheel tight and pulled the Milano up. On his stomach, Rocket leapt off of Drax’s chest and scanned the room. Groot stood up, growing a vine outward and attaching himself to the wall of the Milano.

“Groot! Groot yah alright?” Groot’s eyes only locked on the sky ahead, black but littered with lights as the rounds from the ship pelted them.

“Rocket! Give me a status update!” The raccoooid tore his eyes away from Groot and made his way to the co-pilot seat, rigging up the port and starboard guns.

“They ain’t aiming for the body of the ship so they’re after the cargo. Otherwise they’d just blast us with one of their glarking canyons.”

“Let us board them!” Drax shouted over the fire as the Milano swooped under another round of fire. “I will destroy them!”

“No! We need to loose em!” Gamora shouted.

“I am Groot!”

“No! We’re not going into space are you crazy? We can’t possibly fight out…Ah!!” Rocket felt himself get thrown forward as fire riddled the ship, making everything vibrate.

“I am Groot!” He slowly watched the teen try to make his way back down the hall, that stubborn look on his face.

“What the hell was that?!” Peter asked, staring wide eyed at the controls before him.

“Alert, alert, alert, engine down. Alert, alert, alert, engine down.” Quill tugged at the wheel, punched the thrusters. Rocket snarled in frustration, firing the rear guns. The enemy ship gained on them, not twelve paces away, firing off from all of their small scale arms.

“Fuck!” Rocket yelled over the gun fire. Drax, Mantis and Gamora slid to the left, beer bottles rolled across the floor. “They’re sending they’re guys out!” He watched on his camera pad as several small figures, attached to the colossus ship leapt out of a portside lock in full space-protected armor.

“How is that possible?” Gamora asked in awe, clutching the back of Quill’s chair. BAM, BBBAAAMMMMBB, there was a ripping sound of grating metal and Rocket watched in terror as a fireball hit against the ship.

“Peter what’s the plan?” The assassin demanded.

“I’m trying to find a place to land! There’s no nearby planets!” Drax hollered as bullets grazed the glass, Mantis covered her ears and screamed.

“Kraglin! Go below to our short range missile launch and fire at the….” Rocket’s heart caught in his chest, watching the external cam. Groot! The flora colossus had attached himself to the Milano with a braid of vines and was shouting at the enemies, reaching out and striking them before they got in range. Being hit with gun fire, Groot grew a protective thorny bushel out of his right arm, trying to shield himself with one arm while fighting the rest of them. Rocket unbuckled himself, sliding off the chair and balanced his way across the room.

“Rocket!” Peter shouted, “Rocket! Gamora,” Peter un-did his own buckle, signaling Gamora to take over as the ship began to slide downward. Kraglin. Rocket made his way to the main bay of the ship, stepping into his space suit. “Rocket what are you doing?!” Peter shouted,

“What’s it look like Star-Munch?” Rocket secured the buckle around his waist, steadying himself against the rocking ship.

“You’ll get torn to pieces!” Peter shouted. Rocket’s ear twitched, loading ammo into his spare pockets.

“Tsch, wouldn’t be the first time.” Peter’s brows knitted, jaw set.

“Rocket as your captain and your friend I forbid it.” Rocket looked up at him,

“I ain’t never done anything right my whole life Pete, you gotta give me this.” The words were out before Rocket knew it. Peter looked side to side, searching for something. Hands on his hips and he swallowed for a moment before meeting Rocket’s eyes. The raccoonoid couldn’t tell exactly what he saw there. Desperation, helplessness, worry…..l..love?” Peter stepped forward, pushing the button and Rocket took a breath as the door of the Milano’s clanked to open. The humie secured the cord to the anchor.

“You come back in one piece.” He ordered, “both of you. Got it?” Suction tugged at Rocket and the made his way to the edge, looking out at the enemy ship, he could see Groot struggling to combat two of the suited aliens.

“Rocket…” Peter began, but the raccoonoid only turned over his shoulder. Shoving down the image of Yondu with those same sad eyes. He saluted the humie, took a deep breath and vaulted out into the unforgiving vacuum of space.

[mangled-dreams]

Dealings with a Devil (Part 20)

Dealings with a Devil (Part 20)

Reader X Darkiplier

You, Reader, have made a deal with what you believed to be a fantasized version of your favorite YouTuber’s alter ego, Darkiplier after he’d visited you in a dream. You believed Darkiplier to only exist in your dreams and on Markiplier’s YouTube channel, but by some impossible way he’s real and he intends on collecting on your debt to him.  

((Just as an FIY, Sean’s “fiance” is someone I made up and for the sake of the story he still lives in Ireland. I’m trying to stay mostly true to real life but it’s hard sometimes, especially when it doesn’t cross your mind to actually look up facts. lol.))

“So, how was your flight? I heard there was a storm over the Atlantic earlier. Worried you’d be caught up in it.” Sean says gathering the few bags you brought with you to Ireland. You try to make polite conversation and stay engaged with Sean and his fiancée, but it’s hard when Dark and Anti just left you on the plane by yourself without any kind of explanation.

“We hit turbulence and the pilot had to put the fasten seat belt sign on for a while, but other than that it was fine. Is the storm supposed to come inland?” you respond giving a polite and convincing smile. You wonder if Dark will show up by the evening. He already knows he can’t be with you while you and Sean are visiting and working, but he can still lie in your bed and cuddle you.

But you suppose he doesn’t have to keep an eye out for Anti considering he already made his presence known on the plane. What that green goblin is thinking you’ll never know. It’s not his antics that scare you anymore, although you do admit the plan thing was scary—it’s his motives that have you worried. If he plans to kill you then he should do it out right instead of turning you.

If he even did that properly. You have no special powers not even a dark form. The whole telepathy thing with Dark was kind of already there and you’d already been mostly tuned to when Dark is in the same room with you. Climbing into the back seat of the small coupe you continue with the pleasantries all the way to Sean’s house.

Your mind wonders as you stare out into the foggy green hills. Ireland seems much more powerful now that you’re actually here. Maybe you’ll see a ghostie goo or two while you’re visiting. You hope you’ll see your demon at some point again.

“You fallin’ asleep back there?” Sean asks looking through the rearview mirror at you. The corners of his eyes are crinkling as he smiles.

“Kind of, it was a bit of a adrenaline rush on the plane ride.” You respond back smiling at Sean. You genuinely like being in his company. Between him and Mark you hadn’t felt lonely or without entertainment. Honestly it’s like seeing an old friend again.

“I bet. The rides over the big pond are never very fun when there’s a storm brewin’.”  Sean responds as a heard of sheep slowly cross the road way. The young man escorting the group tries to hurry the sheep across to allow the vehicle to pass by. You laugh a little and notice a few small babies the group and coo.

“Like them little ladies, do ya?” Marline asks turning to look back at you.

“I think they’re adorable. From afar. My grandad on my mother’s side had a little farm and some of his goats were meaner than a snake. I tried feeding some of the kids and this really old, grumpy goat ran up and head butted my hip.  Damn thing nearly broke it according to my doctor. Grandpa kept him closed up whenever my brothers and I came to visit.” You say shivering at the thought of Ol’ Prescott.

“Wow, what a mean ol’ fella. “ Marline laughs.

When you finally arrive at the house, Sean and Marline show you to your room. You have your own bathroom with a small shower off to the right of your bed. You smile and thank them before being left to your own to put your clothes away. You’ll be with Sean and Marline for a few days then they’re taking you into London so that you can say to visited England and Scotland.

“Top if the morning to ya laddies! My name’s Jacksepticeye and I’m here with a special guest! Say hello to everybody!” Sean bellows as you look at the camera Sean set up to the left of his usual camera to get a good view of you.

“Hello! Mangled Dreams here once again. I’m stepping out of the nightmares to spend some time with our awesome man, Jack!”  You say smiling big. You and Mark had come up with that little intro after a few bad attempts. Looking to Sean you wonder if it’s too much for his channel. “Is that no good?” you ask a little worried. It shows on your face.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing! Yer a natural!” Sean shouts holding his palm out to you and you smack it instantly. “Hell ya! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Any who! Today we’re going to be playing some demo versions of some games coming out later this year!” Sean says making quick work of loading up the first demo game.

You’d been practicing playing games on the computer for a while now in your spare time to make the videos with Mark and Sean a little bit more like their usual. As long as it’s not a horror game you have pretty good confidence in your skills. You’d found horror games, depending of their quality or amount of gore have a good way of taking away any confidence.

The whole process was once again intriguing and very enlightening. You’d found Sean is just as hands on, if not more so than Mark in the making and editing of his videos. By the end of it you’re wiped. You didn’t think it’d be so taxing to make a video with Sean, but he’s so high energy and so loud and animated it’s hard not to put just as much energy and enthusiasm as he does.

Flopping down on the queen sized bed with a hand made quilt after a delicious home cooked dinner you fight against sleep. You still need to shower and comb your hair our before getting under the covers. Sean’s house is warm but you can feel the Irish cold settling in through the windows.

Struggling you stand up, get out your small bag of toiletries, and head into the bathroom. You start the water to the shower and wait a few minutes as the temperature changes before stepping into the small one person shower.

You shower in peace, well… as much peace as your mind will allow. Dark still hasn’t shown up or even reach out to you. You worry at your bottom lip as you slowly wash your hair. What if he and Anti really got into a fight and one or both is seriously injured?

Silently you cures your inability to visit the Void of your own free will. You curse Dark for being so stubborn. You curse Anti for being such a prick. But in this moment you cures your shampoo for dripping into your eyes!

“Wow! That’s amazing!” Sean gawks at your drawing. He’d given you a small space of your own in his studio to set up your computer and tablet. Like Mark, Sean is going to showcase your art. Today you decided to do an original for Sean featuring his floating eye buddy, Sam.

“Why, thank you. I’m glad you like it.” You respond as you stretch your drawing hand to keep it from cramping. It’s not often you can bust out something so quickly and with such detail. “Do you think your followers will like it?” you ask looking up at Sean and freeze for a moment.

For the briefest of moments you swear Anti’s black eyes looked back at you. You quickly swallow a bit of saliva to wet your suddenly dry throat before Sean looks at you again with a huge, un-Anti looking smile.

“Are you kiddin’? They’ll love it!!” Sean reassures you happily. You can’t help but smile back at the adorable Irishman. Whatever Anti has in plan you know Sean has no part in it. Just like Mark, both are oblivious to their alter-ego’s plots and lives.

“You sure know how to make a girl blush.” You tease batting your hand at Sean as he chuckles.

“Are you ready to hit London?” Marline asks as you ride the ferry to England. Four days later and you still haven’t heard from Dark or Anti… at lease you think you haven’t. There’ve been a few questionable sightings out of the corner of your eyes when it’s just you and Sean recording/playing in his studio.

Sean hasn’t done anything Anti-ish, but it still puts you on edge. Looking to Marline you nod your head. Despite the confusion and worry about your favorite Demon, you’re still looking towards going to London and Scotland. You only have a few days left of your vacation and you want to make the most of them.

“You have no idea.” You respond unable to help the slight, if not horribly done, Irish accent. You groan, Sean has been teasing that you’re picking up his accent after being in Ireland only four days. You strongly denied his accusations, but then… you catch yourself as you’re talking and half to stop and hang your head.

“You’ve been in Ireland too long.” Marline jokes at your expense. To be honest you could probably live your life happily in Ireland. The people, the land, the.. everything is just so perfect.

“I dunno, Marline. I think Ireland is just what I need. It’s so pretty and peaceful. Not to mention the lore and legends.  Oh, it’s a thing of beauty.” You gush watching the coast of Ireland slowly disappear into the mist that always seems to be hanging around.

Your family had been wrong. Coming to Ireland in the fall is perfect.  You’re going to miss Ireland far more than you had California. After all it’s not completely different than living in Washington where it’s green and wet just about year round. Oh yes, you’ll miss Ireland.

Sean grins from ear to ear at your confession. “You’re always welcome in our home. Don’na worry about hotels if you come back to visit. We got cha covered.” Sean reassures you earning a soft chuckle from you.

“I might have to take you up on that offer if the longing for Ireland gets to bad. Just be prepared for me to stay longer than a few days.” You respond high fiving Sean at his prompting.

“You got cha!” he responds in kind.

Part 21

[2pairsofwellies]

Highland Time

It's been quite awhile since I last updated the blog and that's because we appear to have slipped into 'Highland Time'....we were warned this would happen but didn't foresee it taking effect just yet. Our friends up here told us that when you live in the Highlands, time slows down and things become much more 'Manyana' as the Spanish would say. We can now confirm this to be true. Our city, suburban sense of 'must get it done yesterday' has dissipated. There are still things that need done as a matter of relative urgency and yet we know they will get done in time. Time.....what a precious thing it truly is. The kitchen is still a work in progress. Naively we thought it wouldn't take as long as this but as Steve is doing most of the work himself, me having proved to be a calamitous builders mate, it was bound to take longer than our estimates. Now in our previous incarnations this would have, by now, been causing considerable stress, teeth grinding, sharp exchanges of words and pulling out of hair. Are we doing any of the above? Not really. Yes we want a kitchen completed sooner rather than later but....it will get there. Also, there is absolutely no point doing your pan in by grafting seven days a week at our age unless you are wanting to bequeath a lovely new kitchen to the next generation. Aside from the kitchen we have an ever increasing list of jobs to do both in and outside the house ......ah Manyana. Despite slow progress and aching joints, which seem to be ever present, do we regret the move to this pretty remote little Highland Village? Not for a minute! I've been lucky enough to find work locally. We have peace and tranquility and live our lives on Highland Time. It's not everyone's cup of cha but it is ours. We do sometimes miss our social gatherings with like minded soul people but once we are sorted we'll have our trips away. We do really miss our kids and grandsons but temper that with them all now having a rural retreat to come to when they need a break. Grandson number three is due very soon so that will be an exciting trip to look forward to for cuddles and catching up. I've started work on our garden, adding a few things like gooseberries to our mini orchard. The front garden is quite neat and very pretty but it also needs to be a productive space so it has fruit trees, fruit bushes and a herb spiral I made yesterday. I use a lot of herbs when I'm cooking so it seemed logical to have them quite close to the kitchen. One thing I've always wanted to grow is Asparagus. I was aware that it's a good 2 to 3 years from planting to a proper harvest so I went ahead and ordered one year old crowns to arrive in May. They landed and I had to break the news to Steve that despite him already being up to his eyeballs with jobs, asparagus needs a suitable bed, which we didn't have, to grow in as although you get many years from them they dislike being moved. Like the diamond he is he made me a Trug for the front garden in a couple of days whilst I was at work. They looked pretty sick a day or so after planting but I found out that you just cut off the wilting ferns and leave them. Fingers and everything crossed for our first few spears next year. Having our own asparagus to look forward to every year will be wonderful. Seasonal eating gives you things to look forward to and to savour. Our little village is a lovely community. We want a greenhouse but don't have time to build or buy one yet. Our neighbours live away and only visit when they can so I asked them if they would consider selling us their greenhouse as they don't use it. They said we could have it, that we could use it in situ this year until we have time to try moving it to our back garden next year. Just like that. How lovely. So I now have seeds growing and somewhere to keep my jalapeño plants and extend the short growing season we have here. We've been given topsoil and gravel from our friends farm. We have the very best neighbours on the other side who have been incredibly helpful in so, so many ways and are great company. We've had offers of help with some of the heavier jobs by others, who like ourselves, recently moved here. It truly is like going back in time to a simpler life where you helped people and they helped you when you needed it. In short, and if you do know me you'll know this is short for me.......Life is good 😊 Onwards and Upwards!!

[thecursedhellblazer-arc]

For @thedemonconstantine​​​​​​, who once again didn’t ask for it, but who gets my crap anyway u.u

domestic ship meme || Accepting !

(( I removed three of the prompts because they were the same of the previous meme! ))

JOHN & DEMON JOHN

who reaches out to new neighbors Luckily for everyone, they don’t have neighbours. John has picked a place in the middle of a forest, far away enough from the city, for the exact reason of not having to deal with busybodies and to be able to go around his occult business without having to worry about interruptions or to make up excuses to explain all the oddities that happen around them. After he has freed the Copy from Hell and the Other has become a more or less stable presence in his household, the choice had turned out to be an even more appropriate one. Between the fights and their messed up sexual life, they would have definitely got all the wrong kinds of unwanted attention. Whenever they happens to be elsewhere and make enough of a mess to alarm the people living nearby, they usually end up fighting even more because the Copy just want to off the witnesses, while John leans more towards deleting their memories with a spell. It usually ends with Chas clearing up the chaos, if they haven’t done anything irreparable, or always with Chas calling Zatanna for assistance, because John can’t really be trusted with that kind of spells. Whenever he tries them,while they do their job,  they also always end up having nasty side effects.

who remembers to buy healthy food The Copy eats only what he is fed with and basically everything he gets given, good or not so much. John, from time to time, on a good day, finds the patience and the will to cook for them both, but, at the end of the day, it’s only thanks to Chas if he has the ingredients to do it in the first place. Yet another reason for the Other to call the cabbie their “free maid”. John doesn’t say it as often, but he wholeheartedly agrees.

who remembers to buy junk food They either steal it from Chas’s secret stash (more about it in the next section) or John is the one who drags his ass to the store and buy whatever random junk the Copy has talked him into getting. There is nothing that he hates more than having to comply, but at times it’s the only way to avoid a fight when he is still healing and all sore because of the last one they had. At times, John just takes off with the excuse of them needing “supplies” because it gives him an excuse to have some space away from the Other, because there are moments when he really can’t stand being around him. Usually, it happens whenever he is feeling already unable to deal with himself and having the Copy around just makes it worse. Of course, the bastard seems to always notice and, if he sticks around for too long, the Other ends up exploiting the fact to torment him more than his own head is already doing.

who fixes the oven when it breaks They don’t fix anything. They are, one way or the other, the reason why everything has been broken in the first place, including themselves. John tries to avoid having the most violent fights happening inside, but at times they start so abruptly and so explosively that there’s nothing that can be done to prevent the damage. For the most, it usually ends with broken glasses and bottles, ruined sofa covers and carpets, a smashed chair and blood and maggots everywhere. However, there are occasions in which things get even more out of hand and they add cracks in the walls and thrash everything that happens to be too close to them, including forniture and appliances. In the aftermath, the Copy always leaves, dumping the task to clean up the mess all on John. Constantine usually waits for his demon blood to patch him up a bit, wipes away some of the blood, to make everything look less bad than it has been, and then calls Chas.

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s) John has some herbs and mystical greeneries he grows as ingredients for his spell. Some are in the vault and they are magical enough not to require his attention. Others are in the backyards of the cabin and nature takes care of them. Constantine bothers only with the ones who need a special kind of nourishment, but he still makes sure that they can fence for themselves for long periods in any case. What really takes a concrete effort it stopping the Copy from messing with them. The bastard had used some of them to poison John a few times, with nasty results. He would have probably died horribly, hadn’t it been for his tainted blood, so he just went through the horrible part without actually dying. The Other got his face burnt off with magic or he found himself trapped in a very small cage for days to no end after every single episode. Also, it happens often enough, far too often for Constantine’s liking, that he takes away the on ingredient the magician needs, and urgently, to complete whatever spell or potion he is working on.

who makes the bed None of them cares about it, also because it usually gets thrashed all over again, for one reason or the other. John changes the sheets when they are too soiled with dried blood or too torn to be used (and it happens more often than he’s ready to admit) and it’s only because he put a protective spell on the mattress that he doesn’t have to change it too every two weeks or so. Whenever Chas comes around and is willing to doe some chores, they leave that part to him too, even if, after a while, the cabbie got fed up enough to refuse to do it whenever the bed had got too filthy. He might be their best friend and he might be ready and resigned to clean after them, but he has to protect his own mental sanity too.

who makes the coffee John...just to have it stolen from his hands before he can even get a sip out of the mug. At times the Copy drinks it in his face, especially when it’s the last they had left, others he simply throws it on the floor. Or on his Maker (the hotter, the better in such case).  Some of the burns have even scarred and John hasn’t stayed pissed even after the demon has “not-apologised” (he almost never makes the effort, so when he does it’s supposed to truly mean something, but the magician is simply too done with him to appreciate it at times.) By now Constantine has learnt to be smarter about it, either avoiding to even just look at the machine whenever the Other is around or never pouring it all, so he can get more once he has managed to kick the demon’s wounded ass out of the cabin and into a portal for a trip in some nasty realm, so he can have his breakfast in peace. 

who burns breakfast The Copy doesn’t cook or bother with anything related to that so, when it happens, it’s usually John’s doing. That said, it’s also true that most of the times it’s the Other’s fault too, because he’s the one to distract his Maker from what he is doing, either starting a fight or more pleasurable activities. Then there was that one, odd time when John woke up to smoke from the ground floor of the cabin, just to find that the Copy had somehow managed to incinerate whatever food he had been trying to make and the whole cooker with it. It was the anniversary of the demon’s creation and John had been so stunned that he hadn’t even managed to say a single word on the matter. Later on, when Chas had come over to see if the appliance was salvageable, he had taken the blame from the accident instead of putting it on his demonic self. They never spoke of it again, but that very same night was one of the extremely rare times when their passion held almost no violence in it, despite it being particularly intense, and everything was agonisingly slow.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house They don’t. Each of them goes and comes as he pleases. The only times when John warns the Copy is when he knows that he’ll be away for some time and it’s mostly to warn him not to wreak havoc in his absence if he doesn’t want to suffer the consequences of it. The threats mostly fall onto deaf ears, but at least he can say that he has given the bastard a fair warning when he finds himself forced to keep his word.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home It depends on the circumstances. For the most with insults and cutting remarks that can either end in a session of bickering or lead up to a real fight. Other times they simply ignore each other past a brief glare. Then there are the times when they haven’t seen each other in a good while and they are too impatient to even go through their usual foreplay, so they just lace onto each other and shreds their clothes off, making themselves unavailable for the next three hours, at least.

who picks the movie for movie night / their favorite kind of movie to watch Their movie night is game night and that usually means that Chas comes over too. It’s perhaps the most normal part of their fucked up routine and John has come to appreciate it exactly for that reason. After he has chosen to bring the Copy back in his life, most of his habits had got screwed up and, while he is used to deal with dangers and chaos, he misses the quiet moments even more for the mere reason that they are now even more often denied to him. Chas’s presence usually means both more tension and more balance, because his best friend is on the edge and glaring whenever the Other is around, but, at the same time, the Copy behaves a bit more because he knows that pissing John off on those nights means being sent away and leaving the two men to enjoy each other’s company. The idea nags him more than he is ready to admit. If a movie happens instead of the game, it’s usually of the sort that has made Chas emotional in other occasions. And that never gets old.

who first suggests a pillow fort / who builds the pillow fort Pillow forts or anything of the sort truly are not their thing. It’s something that would have never crossed their minds if it hadn’t been for that one cursed time when Tim had come up with the idea. Of course, the teen’s only aim had been to make both Johns uncomfortable and feeling like two idiots, even if he had hide it behind the excuse of wanting to understand why some young humans enjoyed the idea so much. Useless to say, he managed to make them miserable and even more annoyed because Yoyo, on his part, had appreciated very much being allowed to perch in peace over all those pillows, while staring at them both amused and judgemental. The fort had been later set on fire as some lame attempt of payback. For the most, it had been done in the hope that the shame would have burnt with it.

who tries to distract the other during the movie Most of the times it’s the Copy. John does it too, but less often. In any case, if they are alone, it’s rare that they get to finish whatever they are watching, be it because they end up painting the floor red and each other black and blue or because they decide that the movie can go screw itself while they screw each other. Or both. The fights begin verbally and quickly escalate into physical violence, and they can be born out of a bad comment or a wrong word or just out of nothing. The sex, instead, can either start with no preambles and one of them simply throwing the other down on the couch or on the floor, or it can be more subtle, with not so random touches escalating into a full groping and kissing.

who falls asleep first Depends on the circumstances. The Copy doesn’t need to sleep, so there are times when he doesn’t even stick around once they are done with each other and John sleeps it off on his own. In other occasions, the demon waits for his Maker to have fallen asleep or purposefully knocks him out, so he can have the chance to keep him close in his arms until he starts to stir again. Other times again, it’s exactly the other way around, with John waiting for the Copy to go into stasis so he can non-cuddle him. However, it starts, the next morning, they never really talk about or acknowledge the fact that they have woken up entangled in each other in a way that speaks of everything but the hatred they are so keen on openly proclaiming to each other.

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JOHN & CHAS

who reaches out to new neighbors John doesn’t have neighbours, since his cabin is set literally in the middle of nowhere, and it’s usually Chas who stays over and not the other way around. However, there are times when they are staying in some other city/town for a few days and they have to rent a place or take a motel room. John’s dabbling with magic can cause some mayhem, which can result in injuries, very odd noises or him coming back in a state that is either indecent or worrisome and it’s up to Chas to take care of public relations, which includes making sure no one calls the police. No need for their American criminal records to get as bad as their English ones.

who remembers to buy healthy food Chas. He is the one who does the shopping in general, because all John never forgets to buy are cigarettes and booze. All the rest he is very likely to forgo, especially when he has his head wrapped up into something. Chas has learnt since their very first months together that being Constantine’s best friend means being his keeper too. Besides, he likes cooking, so it’s never that much of a bother.

who remembers to buy junk food Again, Chas. He stocks up for movies night and keeps a small stash of snacks for whenever Tim shows up at their door. He usually tries to hide it in the most creative ways he can think of, because John tends to dig it up whenever he is staying on his own for too long and can’t be persuaded to go and get actual food. Useless to say, the magician always manages to find it...even when he hides it in his own flat. Chas can’t wrap his head around why his best mate goes through all the trouble of planeswalking just to do that and yet he can’t be bothered to make a simple trip to the store. One of the many mysteries of John Constantine.

who fixes the oven when it breaks Chas is the one who handles most of the repairs, especially when they involve appliances and daily life objects. If it was up to John, those things would simply be left there and stay broken till the day he decides to throw them out to make space for something else. There was one time when Chas wanted to see for how long John could keep up his pretense of not caring and he didn’t replace the coffee maker after it had got involved in a “magical incident”, which had completely fried it. He watched Constantine trying to use it every morning and late night for over two months, getting mad at it and manhandling it, even if he knew very well that the thing couldn’t have worked in any case, before giving in and getting his best friend a new one out of exasperation.

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s) If they had a pet, it would probably be Chas’s and, as such, his complete responsibility. John might agree to feed it, if the cabbie truly begged him to look after it for one night because he has to work. In the aftermath, both John and the dog would hope that such thing never happens again. As for the plants, as mentioned above, John has some greenery lying around, but it really doesn’t take much work or attention.

who makes the bed Chas makes his own every morning. Once upon a time, he used to make John’s too, if he happened to get the time, but he has quickly learnt not to bother because all he gets out of it is for his best friend to protest and mess it up once again. Now, he sticks to changing the sheets once in a while. Unless he knows that John has had some unconventional company over the night before. In that case, he stands there, glaring sternly, hands on his hips, until John takes care of them.

who makes the coffee Chas makes fresh when if he is around, also because at times it’s a good way to lure his best friend out of bed without having to use force, otherwise John gets it from a bar or use the coffee maker (if his current one is functional).

who burns breakfast John has a long record of burning things, starting with Chas’s old kitchen back when they were still living with the cabbie’s mother. That was an accident involving a spell gone wrong and, with some practice, he has managed to become a decent cook too. However, he also has the bad habit of getting distractive easily, especially if he is hangover or running on no sleep, so...accidents happen. Not to mention that he still uses kitchen utensils for spells, so that one time in Chas’s old kitchen hasn’t been the first and only fire he has started in such circumstances.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house Chas usually gives John a shout, saying that he is heading out. If the magician is too busy or can’t hear him for some reason, he leaves a note saying where he is heading off on the fridge or on the table attached to a bottle of beer, to make sure that Constantine finds him. John most of the times just leaves without a word. It has happened that Chas has kept talking to him, while busy doing chores or cooking, only to realise that the bastard has left mid-conversation and that he has been talking to no one like an idiot for over ten minutes.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home Usually they come back together, since Chas always drives John back to the cabin before heading off to his own place. When they meet up, it’s usually with a greeting from Chas’s parts and an exchange of playful insults, maybe a hand on the back, on normal days, and either silence or brief, sharp words on bad ones. If John is really in a good mood, which doesn’t happen often, he might even lean in and presse a kiss on Chas’s cheek, before walking off into the room with a teasing smirk. The cabbie almost never fails to flush a bit and that amuses him to no end.

who picks the movie for movie night / their favorite kind of movie to watch They have a game night more than a movie night and usually they both want to watch the same thing, so it’s never too hard to pick something they both want to watch. From time to time John brings back this or that B movie and forces Chas to sit with him through it so that he can talk the cabbie’s ears off with his complaints. Then, there are the very few times when Geraldine comes to visit Chas in the States, instead of the man flying back to England, and Chas manages to trick John into spending the evening with them. They mostly watch either cartoons or teen movies. Useless to say, Constantine sulks the whole time, but Chas has his little girl there with him, with them, and he can’t give less of a damn. Plus, he feeds John good food and enough beer to keep him tamed in any case, so the night never gets spoiled.

who first suggests a pillow fort / who builds the pillow fort It’s another small thing they end up doing when Geraldine comes over. Mostly, it’s Chas and the girl playing and John watching them from the couch with a drink or from outside the balcony while he smokes (no smoking in the flat while Gera is over. That’s one rule Chas forces on him every time, no protests allowed). Then there was one time when John hs found himself having to “babysit” Tefé and, of course, he called Chas to help, because his best friend is much better with kids than he will ever be. It turned out that the girl had no idea of what a pillow fort was and, by the end of her staying, John’s cabin had gained a new, small tree house made of vines, large leaves and pillows.

who tries to distract the other during the movie John, all the way. He is the one who never shuts up during movies in the first place and, when he gets bored with them (and it usually happens the few times it’s Chas to pick a movie he really wants to watch), he starts poking his best friend, verbally and physically. One time when everything else failed to distract Chas, he even started a make-out session out of the blue, just to leave the cabbie’s all hot and bothered and unsatisfied in the aftermath. He wasn’t in a much better state, but he still had to “prove a point”. He only behaves during Geraldine’s movie nights. He is a nasty piece of work, but he knows where to draw a line, at least when it comes to certain things.

who falls asleep first It depends on the circumstances. Usually, it’s John, because when Chas drags him to bed it’s because he hasn’t been sleeping or he is drunk off his sorry ass or he is badly injured. It’s usually John the few times they end up in bed together too, since Constantine feels safe enough to pass out and get the rest he rarely allows himself to have. There are other times when Chas stays over and dozes off on the couch or on the “guest bed” while John goes around his business and the magician always takes a moment to throw a blanker over him before either heading off to bed himself or going back to whatever he was doing. Also, when he comes over during Geraldine’s visit, both father and daughter always end up falling asleep first, together, and John sticks around to make sure they are comfortable, before heading back to his own place.