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januaryembrs · 3 years ago

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ANOTHER NIGHT | Matt Murdock x reader

Description: Matt threatens your brother after he finds out he’s hurt you, and makes you a promise that blurs the line of your friendship.

Length: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: familial abuse, broken nose, hinted at alcoholism and cheating in family

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authors note: I have fallen down a matt murdock rabbit hole someone STop me. Also this dialogue and scenario is 100% taken from the book/show Normal People because I’m in love with this scene.

“Hey Matty, um,” His ears pricked up the second he’d answered the phone. You didn’t sound like yourself, even without the super sensitive hearing he could have known that. You sounded shaken, teary even, and oddly enough as though you had caught a cold in the few hours since you had last seen him in the office with the way your nose was bunged up. “Do you still have the number of that nurse you were talking about, your, um, friend?”

Now he was concerned.

You were never one to make a big deal out of anything. He’d been there when you’d fallen off your rollerblades in college and skinned your knees and your arms deep, and still you’d insisted you just needed to dab it with an alcohol wipe. So why on earth would you need to talk to Claire?

“What’s happened? Are you okay?” He rushed, already up off the sofa, his dinner long forgotten as he reached around for his blazer he knew was on the coat rack somewhere.

You laughed a tiny bit, humourless and with a small gasp at the end that told him it had hurt you to do so, “Yeah, I’m fine, Matty. I just had a bit of an accident is all, it’s silly really. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I just need you to ask her-”

“I’m coming over,” Matt said firmly, grabbing his stick and leaving no room for protest. But of course, you being you, you did anyway.

“No!” Your raise in volume had you audibly wincing, and your voice only sounded even more clogged after that, “No, Matt. I just needed to know if I needed to take myself to the emergency room, I don’t need you here.”

“I’m on my way,” He said, practically ignoring every word you just said. If you were hurt so bad you were considering the ER, he wanted to be with you. You were too stubborn and independent for your own good, and that was coming from him.

“My brother’s here,” You finally confessed to the problem. Matt stopped half way out his doorway, ready to slot the key in the lock and head out onto the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, prepared to walk the few blocks down to your apartment by himself. It was then he realised what the frantic denial of help meant.

Matt had known since college things were never normal in your family. You never went home for the big holiday like most people would, staying in your halls for Christmas and Thanksgiving while everyone else went back to celebrate it with their own kin. Foggy had always questioned it as to why you stayed, you weren’t like Matt who unfortunately had no parents to spend holidays with. You had always brushed him off, saying the journey time wasn’t worth it and that your mom was too busy with work to pick you up. But it was on one of those Christmas nights, when it was just you and Matt in his dorm watching old movies that you told him the real reason you hated going home.

As long as you could remember, your parents had not loved each other. Your father conveniently went on long weekends for ‘business’ almost every week, though somehow he always ended up returning home smelling of his secretary’s perfume come Monday morning. Your mother, in between being glued to her laptop with her own stressful job, was often seen with a glass of pinot in her hand to wind down.

You knew it was to drown out that wretched scent. It made it much easier to pretend she didn’t see the lipstick stains when she was out of it.

This left you and your older brother, Joe. He had always hated you, you were convinced of it. Before your dad’s weekend trips started, you had completely stolen the show when you had been born. The boy was seething jealous to the core about how your parents and family saw their bouncing baby girl, while he was left over to be the responsible older sibling. When he was little, it had been pushing you off the swings, pulling your hair hard enough to yank some of it out, tearing the heads and arms off every one of your dolls until you were left with morbid, plastic corpses to play with as you cried over your lost beauties. Everything you had, he’d always ruined.

As he got older, he stopped with all the physical assaults on you. Before, it had been almost excusable, just a little boy teasing his sister a little too harshly, as your mother would tell you. But what came after was so much worse.

You struggled to make friends in school, your quiet nature deeming you antisocial. Hell, even in college, Matt and Foggy were your only real friends, and that was because you’d been paired with Foggy first term for a class project which led to you spending time with the boys. Joe always found a way to pick on you for your lack of social circle. You tried locking him out of your room altogether, trying to shut out his incessant picking at your loneliness, but he always found a way to make you feel shitty about yourself.

You had told him before you were scared of your brother, that he wasn’t just hurtful in his words but he was intimidating too. He was broad, the classic athletic type that had made him so popular in high school as cliche as it sounded. You had never said if he’d hurt you before, other than the petty jealousy he’d exuded when he was a kid, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out why you sounded so panicked.

Your brother was in town, he was staying at your apartment for the weekend, and coincidentally you just happened to have had ‘an accident’ that had injured you.

“Y/N,” He sounded calm as he said your name, but he felt the shake of pure fury in his key wielding hand. “Did he do something to you?”

You were quiet on the other end of the line. You found it odd he always had a way of knowing you were lying, always, so you gave up a long time ago even trying. Yet you still didn’t have the words needed to admit it to him.

“Matt, please. I’m fine-” Was all you were able to say before he put the phone down. You knew he’d be on his way, and your nerves were shot to hell as to how he was going to make it through the dark streets of New York on his own, but then Matt was always more capable than you’d have thought for a blind person, as ignorant as it sounded.

You cradled your nose gently, inspecting it in the hallways mirror. It had already started bruising and looked as though there was a slight dent in it that you could have been sure wasn’t there before. The bloodied tissues you’d tentatively stuffed up there to stem the bleeding were pretty much full now, the crimson liquid dripping slowly down your lip. You attempted to clean it up a bit with a fresh tissue, but that one was quickly filled too.

You sighed, thinking back to how scarily calm Matt had sounded before he’d hung up the phone. This was going to get messy.

Your brother seemed none the wiser to what, or who, was coming for him, not that there was anything you could do now except pray Matt would be too occupied helping you out to care he was sitting in your living room, drinking a bottle of your beer with a bitter look on his face. You weren’t lying when you said it was an accident, but then again perhaps you were lying to yourself in denial that your brother would have intentionally done this to you.

You had been arguing in the kitchen to start with. Your brother had needed a place to stay while he was seeing some baseball game with his friends. He was too much of a cheapskate to pay for a hotel himself and wanted you to stick your neck out for him. You had protested of course, but one word to your mother and father and suddenly you were a selfish daughter and sister who didn’t appreciate all her family had done for her. So, you were stuck with the piece of shit for the weekend.

Of course, even with your favour to him he still found reason to pick on you. This time it was over your newest business venture with Matt and Foggy.

“So you’re just their secretary really?” He’d sneered, seeing the letter head clearly stating ‘Nelson and Murdock’, your name omitted from the business. “I’ll bet you slept with both of them to get the job,”

“I got the job because I’m a good lawyer, Joe,” You seethed, throwing your coat over the seat in a huff. You’d had a long day at the office as it was, you didn’t need this shit getting home, “I chose not to have my name in the business, it wasn’t that I’m not good enough,”

“Yeah right,” Joe chuckled darkly, “Even that blind freak is better at seeing through people's shit than you are,” He taunted, grabbing himself a beer out of your fridge.

That was when you’d lost it. You started shouting back and forth, dragging up things from your past that neither of you had never gotten over, not that you ever thought you would.

“You were always jealous of me! I was always so much smarter than you, Joe, and you fucking despised me for it,”

“I despise you for your pity party personality. It’s no wonder you never had anyone who gave a shit about you,”

You screamed at each other a bit more, feeling like you were children again with the way your throat hurt from the yelling. You saw him continue to search through your cupboards for something to eat no doubt, and it infuriated you how he still saw everything you owned as something he could just take, even after all these years.

In a rage, you slammed the cabinet door shut, grabbing his attention. You had never been so physical with your anger, yet part of you felt alive you were finally starting to fight back. He couldn’t keep taking what you had built for yourself.

Your feeling of self accomplishment had been short lived as you saw your defiance flash red in his eyes. You barely had a second for the dread to wash over you as he grabbed the handle to the cupboard and threw it open once more with a force that would have surely broken if off its hinges had you not acted as a wall to stop it from swinging outwards.

You heard a sudden crack as the wood made contact with your face, the shock of it stealing all the breath from your lungs. You gave an unattractive groan of pain as it registered that that very much fucking hurt.

It ached almost immediately and you realised there was blood gushing onto your mouth and floor when you parted your lips to swear and it was filled with metal.

You were snapped out of your mind racing as to exactly how it had all gone so wrong when you heard a pounding on the door. That would be Matt.

You tried wiping up the blood some more to hide the extent of the damage, which was silly since he couldn’t see it anyway. You opened the door before Matt could practically knock it down with the force at which he was banging his fist against it, your eyes immediately noticing how out of breath he seemed. He must have practically ran to your apartment, something you could chide him over later.

“Matty-”

“What did he do?” He asked. You’d never heard him use such a furious tone. You felt yourself shrink back from him as he pushed his way into the apartment, and it seemed only then with your nervous disposition that Matt tried to regulate his emotions. He took a deep breath, his hand tentatively lifting to cup your face.

He could taste iron in the air, he could hear the congestion in your nose and the way you breathed lightly through your mouth, and he put the pieces together before you could speak. “I think my nose is broken,” You mumbled, words paining you to get out as they vibrated through your nasal cavity and to your affliction site.

Matt drew a deep breath, his thumb ever so gently reaching over to swipe under your nose, to feel for himself what he knew was there. He felt a hot, sticky liquid he knew all too well from his nightly routine, but this time it was different. This time it was you hurt, not some thug or even himself. It was your blood he had on his hands.

He swallowed heavily, tucking your hair behind your ear in a quick, affectionate gesture to try and comfort you the best he could with the rage he felt.

“Go stand outside, we’ll go to my apartment. I’ll be right out.” Matt said, quiet enough to console you but calm enough to scare you as to what he was going to do.

You weren’t stupid. You knew not to protest further when Matt was like this and so you followed his instruction, simply hoping whatever was going to happen would be quick.

You didn't ask any questions, you just left.

Matt felt his anger quadruple once you had left the room. He locked the door behind you so there was no way you would be able to see what was about to happen. If he could protect you from anything, it would be this.

He heard your brother in the living room standing up to see who was at the door and advance into the hallway.

“Where’s Y/N?” Joe asked, false concern in his voice that only infuriated Matthew that bit more. In an split second, he had your brother pressed against the wall with a strength that even surprised him.

“What the fuck-”

“You listen here you little prick,” Matt cut Joe’s cries of shock off with a deep, threatening voice that usually only came out when he was messing up criminals in the dark streets of Hell’s Kitchen as the Devil.

Yet here he was as Matt Murdock, threatening your brother. Saintly, law abiding, Matt Murdock.

“I didn’t touch her!” Your brother tried to gasp, but the brunette man simply held his collar that bit tighter.

“Bullshit!” Matt growled, “Now you listen here. You ever touch her again, I’ll hunt you down and I’ll kill you, you hear me?”

“Y-you’re a lawyer. You shouldn’t be threatening me like this,” Joe stuttered, Matt’s weight pressing against his chest and constricting it with ease. The devil’s head turned in consideration of his words, as if to taunt your brother just that bit more.

“You’re right,” Matt said, in a cynically gleeful voice, “You touch her again and I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth. And then, when you’re on your ass, wishing you had so much as pot to piss into, then I’ll kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

- - -

You leaned against Matt’s bathroom counter, holding a small bag of frozen peas to your nose. Matt got off the phone with his 'secret nurse friend', that was all he’d told you and Foggy about her, returning to your side with some baby wipes.

“She said you don’t need to go to the ER if its only a small fracture. The swelling should go down within a few days,” He said, handing you the packet of wipes with a solemn look on his face.

You hadn’t said a word since you left your apartment, silently following his instructions to put the peas on your face as your mind raced over exactly how fucked up your night had been. You hated how your brother could ruin things for you, that you gave him the power to, but you never thought he would hurt you like this.

“Is it feeling any better?” Matt asked quietly when you didn’t respond. He couldn’t see how badly it had bruised, how it had moved over to your brow bone and started turning your right eye black, just that it was hurting you to breathe through it still. You nodded your head gently, clearing your throat when you realised he couldn’t see what you were doing.

“A little,” Your voice came out as a mouse, and you moved the icy compress away from your nose to have a look at it in the mirror. Your nose itself looked less swollen, but the blood had dried over your lips and chin making you look utterly gruesome. “Just a lot of blood,”

“Let me help,” Matt said, gently turning you around. You let him move you, all the energy out of your body drained from the evenings. You felt him delicately start to wipe under your nose, across your chin with a tenderness you needed for the way you felt.

Something seemed to shift in Matt as he felt his wipe-covered finger glide over your lips, where he realised you were letting him take complete control of your body, almost limp in his arms.

He didn’t know what to say, or what to feel, other than that he didn’t want to ever feel you the way you were right now. You felt like a zombie in his arms, this wasn’t you that he knew. You weren’t even crying, you just seemed dazed. It scared him in all honesty.

“Hey, look at me,” Matt requested. He felt you shift in his arms, your eyes piercing into his unfocused ones, scanning over his face for any sign as to what he wanted. His free hand that hadn’t been wiping your face came up to cup your cheek, “No one is ever going to hurt you like that again, trust me. Not him, not anyone.”

You felt your eyes tear up at his words. You leaned further into the palm of his hand and it was only then he felt a salty, hot tear roll over his fingers. He pulled you in for a hug, to which you immediately grabbed onto him as if he were the only thing grounding you in the moment. He was.

“I’m never going to let anything like that happen to you again, Y/N,” He whispered, stroking the back of your head as you cried into his blazer, “Because I love you and I’m going to keep you safe, you know that?”

His words seemed to calm your sobs slightly, and all you could mutter was “Thankyou,” as he continued caressing your back gently. You pulled away, looking at him in the face as if for the first time you’d properly considered his words.

Because I love you.

You sniffled as softly as you could with your injured nose, reaching out to hold his hand. “I don’t think your girlfriend would like you saying that, Matt, no matter how sweet it was,”

He smiled to himself lightly even though you had been serious, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?” You teased slightly, laughing as he broke out into a grin hearing you coming around to your normal self again.

Things weren't okay, far from it, but at least he was taking your mind off it, that's all he could ask for.

“Yes, she knows that. Who do you take me for?” He joked back.

Things seemed to go quiet between the two of you again, revelling in the moment of his loving words. He knew what you were thinking, as did you. It was the confession you’d been waiting for for years. He heard it in the way your heart fluttered looking at his face, and god have mercy, did he want to kiss you right then and there.

Maybe if you weren't caressing a broken nose and you hadn’t had such a shitty night on your mind, Matt would have kissed you, or let you kiss him. But you were injured and he didn’t want to take advantage of the awful hand of cards you'd been dealt today.

So instead, he tilted your head forward gently and put his lips your forehead sweetly.

Perhaps another night, he would kiss you.

a/n: as I always do before I post I kinda hate this but any love is much appreciates

#matt murdock x reader #matt Murdock one shot #matt murdock x you #Mathew murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x female reader #matt murdock x y/n

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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Update - Harry Styles

i’ve been deep inmy harry feels and this thought just wouldn’t leave me alone so i had to write it. im thinking about starting a taglist for harry, i think i’ll write more about him in the future. let me know if you’d be interested in the taglist!

word count: ~5.9k

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Sequel: The best present

Harry is not that into YouTube videos, has never really been, which is kind of ironic seeing the number of videos on the internet that is about him. The man himself who makes everyone talk online feels weird seeing someone talking on his screen, looking into his soul as if they were right there with him. But today he felt the sudden urge to be like his peers and get lost in random rambling videos from strangers, who felt the need to put themselves out there.

He has made a mean cup of tea for himself, made himself comfortable on his couch with his laptop balancing on his thighs and now is opening up his browser to unwind in an unusual way. As YouTube opens in front of his tired eyes, he stops when he tries to type in the keywords he is searching for. What is he looking for really? He thinks to himself trying to remember what he heard from his friends when they talked about funny or interesting videos. One thing is for sure, he is trying to avoid watching videos of himself in any content. He has had enough of him for the day, it’s time to focus on someone else, even if he doesn’t know the person.

He scrolls through several pages of many different keywords until he settles for a video where a girl talks about how her latest moving day went. Starting off Harry feels weird listening to her talk about such personal things as where her bed went in her room, how she packed all her stuff to fit them in the boxes, but soon enough this feeling settles and he starts to realize it’s kind of relaxing.

It doesn’t take too long for him to fall down a rabbit hole and by the time his tea empties out from his cup he is intensely watching a guy rant about his boss at Subway while doing a mukbang. The latter is a new discovery for Harry, he has never heard of it before, but he can see why some people find it satisfying.

The video ends, Harry checks the time and sees that it’s already after midnight and he hasn’t even realized how fast time flew by.

“Alright, just one more,” he mumbles to himself scrolling down the column of the recommended videos until his eyes stop at one particular upload at the very bottom.

July update for my Sammy, ready the title and an eye-catchingly beautiful girl is smiling from the thumbnail. He finds her breathtaking, the lack of makeup, the worn out hoodie she is wearing and the many various plants in the background makes it appear she is sitting in the middle of the forest.

Harry finds himself clicking on the video before he could even decide consciously to watch it. The screen loads and the girl appears in front of him, this time in a much larger size.

“Hi Sammy, welcome back to our channel,” she starts with an angelic little laugh as she pulls her shoulders up to her ears as if the camera is making her shy. She has no reason to be shy, Harry thinks to himself. His second thought is about Sammy, he is one lucky guy to know this angel and have her think about him. “It’s Y/N here, your one and only sister,” she adds.

Sister. The word brings Harry relief and he is surprised to feel this way, but he has no time to think anything of it because she starts talking again.

“Here is my July update, I’m sorry I’m a little late, but we got back from Oregon yesterday. Aunt Ella is sending you kisses and hugs, she missed you at the barbeque, or maybe it was just your helping hand at the grill,” she chuckles to herself, probably recalling the memory.

Harry has no idea who Aunt Ella is or where she lives in Oregon, but the way she talks about it makes him feel like he is part of the family a little.

Y/N carries on and starts talking about everything that has happened in July. Painting the shed at her parents’ home, buying a new armchair, one her cat absolutely adores and refuses to sleep anywhere else now, she went to the hairdresser to get a trim, but not too much. She tells about her plans for August, how she is thinking about going to the farmers’ market more often, and she has been playing with the idea of adopting another cat.

“I think Henry has been feeling a little lonely lately. He could use a buddy,” she tells the camera, her eyes moving to the side from where a weak but moody meow can be heard as an answer. “Yeah, I think he agrees,” she chuckles and Harry finds himself smiling at the screen.

At the end of the video she asks a few questions from Sammy, how he has been doing, if his wrist feels any better, even asks about a friend called Matthew. Harry wonders if she has ever gotten the answers to her questions and where Sammy saw this video. What is he doing that made her want to do an update on YouTube?

When the video ends Harry clicks on her profile faster than he would willingly admit to anyone and it’s like he opened the gate to paradise. Tens and maybe hundreds of videos are queuing on her page, monthly updates, birthday wishes, short story times about family gatherings, news and happenings in her life.

Harry gets lost in her tales. He watches video after video, noticing the smallest details about her, almost mentally taking notes about her updates, finding anything and everything she talks about so interesting as if he knew those people and places she mentions. He comes to realization that Sammy is her older brother who is serving somewhere in the military. Y/N is making the videos to update him about her life even if she knows most of them doesn’t get to him until weeks later, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He also learns that Sammy sends them back lengthy emails once a month and always ends them with a joke they made up with his mates at the army. Y/N loves them even when they're not even funny, she never fails to mention that she smiled reading them.

Hours pass by and the rising Sun peeks inside the window pulling Harry back to his own reality, shocked that he just spent the whole night watching her videos and didn’t even realize how deep he has gotten in her life. Lucky for him he has nothing planned until the afternoon, so shutting his laptop he sets it aside and heads straight to bed, but lying between his silky sheets he catches himself staring out the window, wondering what Y/N might be doing right now. From what he collected she lives somewhere in Spokane and has family in Seattle and Portland, which puts her quite a few time zones behind him. He finds the thought of them going to bed at the same time despite the distance a little funny. He lies in bed for quite some time before he finally drifts off to sleep with a particular girl on his mind, who doesn’t even know he is thinking about her.

“Do you think you can fall for someone you have never met?”

Harry’s question catches Mitch a little off-guard, but he is kind of used to his random bits of thoughts. Pouring some sugar into his coffee he follows the wondering singer to a free table in the corner.

“Isn’t it what all your fans feel?” he answers with a question, earning a surprised look from Harry. He hasn’t thought about this side, now the situation is kind of ironic, he supposes.

“Y’re right,” he nods stirring his coffee around in the small cup.

“Want to let me in on your thoughts?”

Harry feels a little shy to admit how he has watched all of her videos in the past few days, 207 to be exact and now he feels an oddly deep connection to this girl he has never even seen outside of a screen. Last night he dug up her Instagam profile, and even though she is not posting as frequently as she does on her channel, it was a refreshing change to see her in different settings. Chilling at a lake, having drinks with her friends, playing with her parents’ puppy, it amazed him that she has a whole life outside that small portion she lets him see in her videos.

Hesitantly, but he tells his friend about his latest hobby, if it’s not too weird to call it that, while his friend patiently listens and nods along his words while sipping on his morning coffee.

“D’you think I’m crazy?” Harry sighs leaning back in his seat, looking at his friend and colleague for validation that he hasn’t lost his mind entirely.

“Definitely not,” he chuckles shaking his head. “It’s like falling for that girl in school you know so much about but never really met.”

“Only that I’m stalkin’ this poor girl.”

“This is not stalking. We both know it’s far from that.” Harry nods with slight relief that his situation doesn’t seem as bad as he has been feeling lately. “Have you gotten in touch with her?”

“And what am I supposed to do? Comment on her video that I think her cat’s a cutie and I watched all her videos in three days ‘cuz I think she’s beautiful and I find her voice soothing?”

Mitch lets out a soft chuckle at the oddly specific answer he just gave and finds it amusing how interested his friend has grown about someone in such a short time.

“Maybe phrase it a little different.”

“So you do think I should reach out?”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t. Use your personal YouTube, leave her a nice comment. Maybe she’ll reply.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” he chuckles. “Just go with it and you’ll see. You are obviously interested in her, it’s better than just sit and watch her videos.”

Harry agrees. It wouldn’t hurt to try to reach out to her, possibly in a not too creepy way. Maybe just a sweet comment on one of her videos and if she replies… Well, he doesn’t know what comes after, but he’ll figure it out.

Y/N updates regularly. Usually once a week and mostly it’s Sunday when a new video gets uploaded. This next Sunday Harry finds himself checking her page occasionally through the day to see if there’s a new update, but it seems like she is missing today. Right until he is driving home and gets a notification from the app.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video! It reads and Harry’s heart beats a tad bit faster. He thinks about pulling over to see it right away, but he tells himself that would be a bit too much, so he is forced to wait until he is in the comfort of his home.

Finally sitting on his couch he opens up his laptop and clicks on the video that has the title: September update.

Y/N sits in her usual spot, Henry in her arms as she is gently stroking his head with a warm smile on her face.

“Hi Sammy! Welcome back to our channel,” she greets him with her usual words and Harry loves how she calls the channel theirs. “This is my September update, even though not much has happened,” she breathes out, eyes wandering to the window besides her and Harry wonders what she sees from her window every day. Does she live in the city? Is it an apartment or a house with a backyard? Are there any trees or does her room have a terrible view, maybe just another house next to hers?

She starts her talk about the month, which she spent mostly with working, a little shopping and meeting her friends. She tells him about her planned trip to the local shelter to see possible new kittens to add to her household and Harry feels himself growing excited about it. He even thinks about what kind of cat he can see get along well with Henry even though he has never even met him.

“Anyway, mom and dad miss you, I miss you too. I loved your joke about ducks in your latest email,” she chuckles sweetly, bringing a smile to Harry’s face as well. “Mom is excited to see you at Christmas, our cousins will come to Portland as well. Maya can’t wait to play Jenga with you, she said she’s been practicing.”

The video soon ends as Y/N tells Sammy how much she loves him and eventually turns the camera off.

He straight away moves the cursor to the beginning of the video and as she starts talking again he scrolls down to the comment section that’s entirely empty. There are only two views on her video, usually a hundred is the max, but she doesn’t seem to care about the views, it’s more about the message.

He clicks to type a comment, but his hands stop above the keyboard as he tries to think of what to write. Mitch was right about taking a chance at reaching out, but what is he supposed to write exactly? Everything that comes to his mind sounds so creepy and scary, and he knows it’s weird that he formed such a deep connection to an unknown girl online. At last he starts typing.

“Hi Y/N! I’ve stumbled across your videos the other day. Love how you keep your brother updated, it’s such a nice gesture. I hope life treats you and Sammy well, you truly deserve it. Good luck with finding a buddy for Henry! Love, an admirer of yours, H.”

He reads it back several times, deleting then retyping it again until he decides to just go with it. A rush of adrenaline washes over his body when he sends the comment and it’s officially out there. Secretly he wishes she would reply right away, but moments pass by, then moments turn into minutes and nothing happens. His comment stands there alone and he has to realize that maybe she will never even reply or even see it.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself as he shuts the laptop down and goes on to do his things, but he finds his thoughts wander over to her from time to time.

He has a busy day ahead of him the next day, quite a few meetings and a fitting. He checks back for a reply in the morning, but it slips his mind the moment he leaves from home and his phone rings right away. Throughout the day he basically barely has time to check his emails, his other notifications are just sitting patiently on the bar, waiting for him to acknowledge them. It’s way past five in the afternoon when he finally have some time for himself after his fitting. He is sitting in his car, people walk past him without even realizing who is sitting behind the tinted windows. Scrolling down he gets rid of everything that doesn’t seem urgent until his eyes stop at one particular notification.

“Y/N replied to your comment,” he reads it out loud, just to make it real, as if he is seeing it wrong and saying it with his own mouth brings it to life. He quickly taps on it and the familiar video opens up and while Y/N starts talking again the screen jumps down to the comments where, in fact, there is a reply from her.

“Dear H! Thank you for your heartfelt comment! I always forget it’s not just my family who sees these videos, but I’m happy you found them interesting enough to watch a few of them.”

“A few?” Harry huffs to himself feeling a little ridiculous he has watched all of them.

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much. Thank you for the well wishes for me, my brother and Henry too. He is sending his love to you. Y/N xx”

The comment was posted three hours ago. The thought that she has acknowledged his existence with not only reading but also replying to his comment brings him extreme joy. He reads her words over and over again, looking for any clue that would give away that she found his comment weird, but it seems like she was more surprised and happy that someone else saw her video besides her brother. Harry starts to type his reply without hesitation.

“Bore me? You saved me from watching another “what’s in my bag” video the other day. It was a pleasant change. I love your plants, by the way. Your room always gives off the most relaxed vibes. It reminded me I should have more of them in my home. H”

Harry smiles to himself posting his comment, the fear of appearing like a stalker long gone from him, the interaction is making his inside blossom from joy. For his biggest surprise a reply appears just a few minutes away and Harry reads Y/N’s new lines with deep hunger.

“Those videos suck the life out of me every time! I might be having a problem with buying too many plants, but I can’t help myself. They truly bring peace to me just by looking at them. I’m glad you are planning on buying some more, you won’t regret it!”

Harry is dying to reply, but he doesn’t want to look too eager and needy, so he opts for just liking her comment to let her know he read it and agrees. He locks his phone and puts it aside with the widest smile on his face as he starts his car and leaves his parking spot.

Two weeks pass by. In those two weeks Y/N uploads two more videos, one about her time with her grandparents, for a change it was filmed at their home and they even said hello in it. Harry feels wholesome seeing her with her granny and grandpa, it’s clear she cares a lot about them. The other video is just a short one where she has met some of Sammy’s old high school friends and she had a check in from them, sending a sweet message to him through the video. Harry doesn’t doubt how much these little things mean to Sammy, even if he doesn’t get to see them right away. Seeing Y/N alone boosts his mood every time she uploads a new video, he can only imagine how they make Sammy feel.

He leaves comments on her videos without a second thought and she replies to all of them, a lot of the time almost immediately. These are the highlights of his days without exception. Knowing that she has anything to do with him just fascinates him and he is starting to realize what his fans feel towards him on a different level. Whenever he sees the notification that she has replied to what he wrote or that she uploaded a new video he flies right to her page to check it, no matter what he is doing. Some of their comment threads turn out pretty lengthy, almost like a chat conversation and it has Harry wonder how they could maybe move it to somewhere else from the comment section.

He wants to ask for her number, but figures it wouldn’t be the best idea. Regardless of how much he enjoys their short little conversations, the situation is still weird and complicated and he doesn’t want to forget that.

But he is pleasantly surprised when she brings it up herself, to move the conversation to somewhere else.

“Would love to discuss that more with you. Up for exchanging IG names?” her question reads and he blinks a few before he fully comprehends that she wants to talk to him more in private. However there’s no way he can send her his real Instagram profile and making a fake one would be way too suspicious. Opening up the private messages he sends her a short, but informative message.

“I don’t use Instagram, but feel free to text me,” and then his phone number.

He sits at the dinner table anxiously, waiting for his phone to light up from a new text, and just a few minutes later it finally comes.

“Hi! It’s Y/N,” he reads from the notification and he saves the number right away.

“Hello! Save me as Harry. I haven’t even told you my name yet, how rude of me!” he replies chuckling to himself.

“Will let it slip this time. Harry. What a nice name!”

“Is it what you thought about from the H?”

“It was one of my theories. The other one was Hayes, but Harry fits you better.”

“You haven’t even seen me, how do you know what name fits me?”

“I don’t know. You had a vibe. There are many great Harries in the world, you seemed to fit between them!”

Harry wonders if she is thinking about him without even knowing that… it is him. He wants to ask her, but decides not to. Instead, he is enjoying that he can now reach her immediately and not through a comment section. He never thought this would actually happen.

The texts never stop. They have so much to talk about! Their entire life to share, millions of thoughts and so much to discuss! Harry is not proud of the time he has spent with his eyes glued to his phone, but he wouldn’t miss a chance to talk to her for anything. Their friends are not blind to the change in him, but Mitch is the only one with a guess about why he has gotten so addicted to his phone.

“Is it the girl from the videos?” he asks Harry one time when they are at the studio, having lunch break. Different food boxes are scattered around them, on the table and the couch. Harry’s phone just light up from a text and he immediately dropped his lunch to type a response.

He glances up at his friend with a shy smile nodding his head. He hasn’t talked about his newly funded friendship with Y/N yet, it feels like as if he tells it to anyone it might evaporate into just a dream.

“So you reached out, huh?”

“I did,” he nods returning to his food once his message is sent. “She’s great.”

“Does she know who she is talking to?” Harry’s lack of answer tells enough about the truth to Mitch. “You can’t hide forever, especially if you are planning on meeting her.”

“I know,” he answers shortly. “But I just don’t know how I could even bring it up to her without sounding like a mad man.”

“She’ll need proof.”

“M’not ready to show m’self to her. What if it changes everything?”

“Then it wasn’t worth it,” he simply tells him.

Deep down Harry knows it’s the truth, but he is not ready to be robbed from the joy she is bringing him. He has never felt such a deep connection to anyone before and they haven’t even met. It’s just a version of her he is seeing on the screen, not her real self. But it feels real to him and he wants to keep this reality to himself for just a little longer.

“I wish I could hear your voice, Harry. You are one big mystery to me, you know that?”

He forgets to breathe for a moment as he reads her message, lying in bed one evening, getting ready to sleep, but he wanted to check in with her before ending the day.

“You know so much about me already,” he types back.

“Not enough, I feel like. Sometimes I’m afraid Nev and Max are about to show up at my door and tell me that I’ve been catfished.”

He chuckles at her words, though he completely understands her fear.

“What do you want from me then?”

“Send me a voice message so I know you are real. That would put my suspicion to sleep. For a while…”

Harry hesitates for a long time until he decides just one voice message couldn’t hurt. Just a short one where his voice is not that recognizable so his cover won’t be over immediately.

“Good night, Y/N,” he tells into his phone and then send the recording to her.

He watches the status change from delivered to read and a couple of minutes go by before she finally responds.

“Thank you. Now I know that you are real. I hope I’ll hear your voice in real life one day.”

“I hope that too.”

His time spent undercover is coming to an end and he knows it’ll happen soon. It’s been weeks since they started chatting, almost an entire month and she’s been hinting her will to see his face and though he has been putting it off, he knows it has to happen.

Fate is playing under his hands, because he is traveling to Seattle for a few days, exactly when Y/N is traveling there to visit her parents.

“I hope you know you can’t leave without meeting finally,” she wrote when she found out they are going to be in the same city.

“It never even crossed my mind!” he wrote back chuckling to himself, however it brought him extreme anxiety that he is now going to be forced to come clean about who he really is.

He spends his whole flight to Seattle making up possible outcomes for their first official meeting. Not all of them end well and it’s just fueling his fear that he might lose her for not telling her the entire truth.

But she is a smart girl, she’ll see your reasoning, he tells himself, however he can’t entirely convince himself that it will be the case.

In hopes of squeezing in more than just one meeting into the weekend they agreed to meet almost first thing after he lands. So after checking into his hotel he heads into the city to finally meet her in real life in a local café she suggested for the occasion. Arriving to the place he is running a little late and she already texted him she’ll be waiting for him inside. Harry is wearing a beanie with shades to try to keep up his cover and it seems to be working, no one has approached him yet.

Stepping inside the cozy looking place his eyes roam around and immediately finds her sitting in the corner, pouring sugar into her coffee, not even paying attention to the door at the moment, but truth is she’s been intensely staring at it in the past ten minutes she has been there.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods to himself before heading in her way, hands shaking nervously as he stops at her table.

She glances up at him with innocent eyes, a smile spreads across her face as she sees that her mysterious Harry has arrived and she doesn’t recognize her until he finally takes his sunglasses off.

Harry watches her face turn from happiness to surprise then utter shock as she realizes who is standing in front of him.

“You are… my Harry?” she asks, confusion laced through her voice and Harry can’t ignore how she called him her Harry. He likes the ring of it.

“M’orry if it’s a little too much f’you, I really didn’t know how to tell ya.”

Keeping his eyes on her he pulls out the other chair at the table and takes a seat across her while she is still staring at him with a shocked and puzzled expression sitting on her face. Then she looks around in suspicion as he wiggles his coat off his arms, before her eyes settle on him once again.

“It’s not an episode of Catfish, right?” she asks making him chuckle.

“It is not, don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being weird, but this was literally the last thing I was expecting,” she admits leaning back in her seat. “I believed things like this only happen in movies.”

“Not just there,” he smiles, slowly relieving that she is still sitting there and hasn’t ran out. It’s going way better than he expected.

She needs a little time to put the whole picture together and befriend the thought that she indeed just developed a friendship with Harry Styles through her videos for her brother. The absurdity is still shocking to her, but the more time passes by with him still sitting there, the more she finds peace with it.

Once the shock and surprise is gone they slowly realize they are seeing each other in real life finally. Harry feels overwhelmed, she is even more breathtaking than in her videos and through texts. He is mesmerized by her whole being and could listen to her talk in person forever, he wouldn’t get bored of her.

Time stops existing as they sit at the little café, talking for hours even though that’s all they’ve been doing through texts, but they just can’t get enough of hearing each other, seeing each other’s reaction and be able to see each other and not stare at a screen while talking.

Unfortunately, time never stopped just for the two of them and soon she realizes she needs to head back home. Harry doesn’t want to let go of her just yet so he offers to give her a ride, thanking himself for getting a rental for himself upon arriving. Y/N accepts the offer so the two of them head back to her parents’ home, soaking up the last minutes of their precious time spent together.

“Thank you for today, I really loved meeting you finally,” she smiles at him once they are parked on the driveway.

“I hope I didn’t shock you too much,” he chuckles scratching his chin.

“Just a little,” she admits before they both get out of the car and walking around it she stops in front of him, after a moment of hesitation she opts for a hug that he returns more than happily.

It feels as if her frame was perfectly sculpted to fit in his embrace and Harry can’t imagine how he could go this long without even seeing her in person. He knows it’s gonna be utter misery to be away from her after they leave the city.

“Will I see you before you take off?” she asks letting go of him. Harry looks down at her, the urge to kiss her growing bigger with each passing moment, but he is not sure if it would be appropriate to give it a try on their first time meeting.

“I’m free tomorrow for a lunch,” he tells her and she nods smiling.

“Then I’m free too,” she chuckles.

There’s an awkward moment where they are not sure what else should be done or said and the more they wait the weirder it’s getting so Harry clears his throat as he takes a step back, sad that he has to leave without feeling her lips on his, but he is not trying to be too greedy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles walking back to his car. Y/N waves after him and sitting back to behind the wheel he takes a moment to himself to collect himself after everything that has happened today. His hands curl around the wheel and he is about to start the car when someone knocks on the window. Y/N is smiling at him through the glass and he rolls it down curiously.

“I just…” she starts hesitantly, her eyes wander down to his lips and Harry knows what’s about to happen, but it still catches him by surprise.

Y/N leans in through the window and presses her lips to Harry’s, capturing them in a sweet, long awaited first kiss they both have been dreaming of for quite a while. Harry smiles into the kiss, bringing his right hand up to cup her cheeks as they stretch the moment for as long as possible. Whenever one pulls back the other brings them back for just one more kiss that turns into two more, then three… It takes a long time for them to finally let go of each other.

“See you later, H,” she smiles backing out of the car and running up to the front door, smiling wildly as she waves in his way one last time before disappearing in the house.

Lying in bed that evening Harry is scrolling through his Instagram feed when he finally realizes he can now follow her without a worry. He is quick to find her profile again and hit that follow button. He is happy to see she was already following him.

He is just about to put his phone aside and go to bed after such a busy but exciting day when a notification pops up on the screen.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video!

He taps on it quickly and her smiling face greets him from his phone’s screen.

“Hi Sammy! It’s me again. Welcome back to our channel,” she starts with a shy smile. The setting is new this time, he supposes it’s her parents’ home this time. “This is going to be a short video, but I wanted to tell you about something. Or someone.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat when he thinks about where it’s heading. He listens to her voice holding his breath.

“I met someone today. We’ve been talking for a while, but I could finally hug him today. His name is Harry, and he is a wonderful man. I think you two would get along well,” she says with a soft chuckle. “I love spending time with him and I hope he feels the same way. Actually…” Her eyes move up straight to the camera, something she doesn’t do often. She usually stares out the window or plays with Henry while talking. “I think he is watching it right now. Hi Harry!”

“Hello, Beautiful,” he greets her back with a smile as if she could hear him.

“I wanted to tell you how amazing you are making me feel. I hope I didn’t disappoint. I was so nervous to meet you today, I hope I lived up to what you imagined me to be.”

“You were so much better than that,” he answers again.

“Anyway… I hope you feel the same way. You are the first guy I’m talking about in an update, so appreciate it!” she tells him and he chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you soon, H. But until then… Know that I’m thinking about you.”

“M’thinking about you too, Angel.”

“Sammy, I miss you as always. I hope everything is well, can’t wait for your next email. I love you,” she smiles before the video ends.

Harry heads straight to the comments. This time he doesn’t leave a lengthy one, just a short line, but it has everything he wanted to tell her.

“I feel the same way.” The comment reads. Just a few seconds later comes the notification and he smiles sweetly at his phone.

Y/N liked the comment.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry #styles #one direction #harry styles fanfictions

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jflashandclash · 4 years ago

Text

Tales from Mount Othrys

Jack: Silenced III

That was how they spent the days: composing songs, learning instruments (he the harp and she the guitar), splashing in the ocean and the freshwater lake, lazing in the warmth of the beach, composing ballads about the clouds—he would sing one verse, then she; the next, until they had a full heavenly court composed of fluffy monsters.

Jack assured that he would stay to heal for three days and nights, but time in Ogygia didn’t move right. He counted. He’d stayed out the second night, watching the stars and the silver slit of a moon. There was an epoch he’d written for Flynn (she hadn’t heard it yet) that lasted thirty minutes when sung at the correct tempo. It was designed to cycle between Mandarin and English, so it would take an hour in total. Calypso came to join him in the garden.

The stars and moon never moved throughout the song.

Time does not have the same meaning here.

Did Calypso have any control over it? Was Jack experiencing more per second or did Ogygia have a different sun, ticking away on its own orbit exterior to the rest of the world? Would he leave in three days and Flynn be old? He didn’t mind her being old, but it broke his heart to think her worrying over him for or their time together stolen by old age.

Memo to self: find way to spend entity with Flynn. Jack reasoned they could, whether or not the war was won. Either they’d end up in Elysium together if they won or the Fields of Punishment if they lost. That’s where Greeks went when they died, right? Jack didn’t mind either way, as long as he had Flynn.

***

Jack found the body on the morning of the third day.

Calypso went to bath. Jack learned not to be easily stumbled upon when she bathed, so she had plenty of space or time to find items she may have forgotten—combs, jewelry, soap, shampoo, clothing.

The morning was pleasant, though everything had been pleasant, like the weather itself didn’t want to leave an impression that could indicate the passage of time.

Jack hadn’t explored the island yet. He had wanted to spend as much time working on Calypso’s feelings for Odysseus, but she avoided the topic. The Greek hero must have hurt her bad. She asked uncomfortable questions about Flynn—ones that grew more uncomfortable once she discovered that Flynn’s face was scarred. Jack loved her scars. Calypso had used a word he didn’t like: disfigured. Disfigured and barren, she mused. As though Flynn wasn’t beautiful because she had marks from living life. Jack had never known Flynn without those markings. There was no figuring to disfigure. It was just part of Flynn.

That was their talk over breakfast, then she’d gone to bathe. He just hadn’t wanted to be easily found, but not wanting to be easily found quickly turned to the realization that he could continue out of the hiding spot.

At Camp Othrys, there was always someone to make sure he was in the right place, at the right time. Someone checked to make sure he did his voice exercises before breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Someone walked him to his monster meditation sessions, his band practice, his room. Life was a continuous carousal of Flynn’s, Luke’s, his boys’, and the titans’ faces. Before that, the riders had been switched out for his family, teachers, pastors, and youth directors.

When was the last time he’d been alone?

Stepping alongside the cave, gliding his fingers along the rough, chilly exterior as a guide, he jittered with terrified delight. Hollowness fogged him for the first step: he missed band practice; singing with Calypso made him nostalgic for it. He missed Phil and the other monsters; recounting stories to Calypso conjured up their memories. But…

Everything was sharper here. Maybe he was allowed to explore.

There was no schedule. There was no “someone.” He had some time before Calypso would come looking for him—whether if she paused half way through a bath to come find something or finished off completely.

There seemed no badness on this island. No monsters. No death. He didn’t need to fear the walls screaming nor the ocean coming to eat him. This world felt less dangerous. Emptier. Sadder. Ethereal at times. But less dangerous.

With the excitement of calculated fear, Jack traced his fingers along the exterior of the cave.

***

He did not expect to find a groove in the façade and a second three feet after: a doorway tucked tightly behind aspen trees and foliage. When he sang to it, mimicking the gentle trill of Calypso’s voice when she called her invisible servants, he did not expect the stone to give way to a passageway. Peering inside, he didn’t expect to find a naturally-lit cavern, a mirror image to the one he’d been enjoying.

Winged creatures—birds?—exploded upwards from the hideaway, into some unseen escape above.

For a heartbeat, Jack wondered if Calypso had been wrong: maybe he did need his medication on Ogygia. This felt too fairy tale, too much like a demented stumble into a rabbit’s hole. This cave eerily reflected Calypso. Here, the harp was abandoned in the corner, wood warped and strings broken. The ingredients and herbs in the shelf looked rotted to black dust. Mold and moths crumbled the white linens of the bed into a green moss. The crystalline ceiling caved to allow gentle, pleasant sunrays to golden the center of the room, where Jack saw the unmistakable shape of a skeleton.

He froze, staring. Sometimes, if he looked long enough, things would go away. Sometimes, they were a trick of the light. His therapists and counselor told him to wait before panicking.

His chest hurt. Had he been holding his breath? Jack leaned forward, his hands still trailing the wall. There were more grooves, these much closer, much more systematic.

Upon checking the markings on the wall, Jack’s stomach dropped. There were numbers. The same kind some of the titans and monsters used: ancient Greek. They were carved into the walls—all of the walls. They twisted around the room, growing into longer numerical values. All of it was disrupted by one massive word, something that someone must have written in desperation or obsession:

Πηνελόπη

Jack knew enough Greek to read it.

PENELOPE

He took another step in.

More birds fluttered up through the hole in the ceiling. Jack flinched. No matter how many times he looked away, no matter how many steps he crept closer, the skeleton didn’t disappear. Jack knelt on the grassy mattress to inspect it. Judging from the size, he guessed it was a child or a very small person. There was a hole in the top back of the cranium, sending spidery fractures around it like rims of embroidery. It could have been broken when the roof caved in or maybe it was a death infliction—Jack didn’t have the coroner background to say.

Someone inhaled behind him.

Jack shrieked. He jumped, almost stumbling onto the skeleton. Instead, his legs buckled on a nearby box—a funerary box.

Calypso stood in the passageway. Her hair was damp, tinted to a deep brown. Its ends brushed her white dress, making sections semi-translucent. Wetness clung to her cheeks, but he doubted that came from her bath. Despite her eyes being shadowed, they were too wide.

Unless Jack sprouted wings to sore with the startled birds, she was in the way of his only exit.

Her voice was thick with emotion. “All ancient versions of the story have Odysseus leaving me with a child. Did new variations forget to mention that?”

Jack swallowed, horrified. He hadn’t found a mirror world of their little relaxing paradise; he’d found Odysseus’. His prison and his child’s tomb.

“You made it sound like the stories lied about you keeping him here against his will.” Jack scrambled off the funerary box, glad it hadn’t crumbled into a heap of rotted children’s toys. His skull hurt—he was tugging at his hair too tightly. He removed one hand to gesture at the walls. “Are these—are these markings about how many days he was here?”

She laughed: bitter, dark, heartbroken. “It’s not my fault he couldn’t keep track of how much time passes on Ogygia,” she whispered, “I gave him everything. Was kind and gentle. I offered him everything…” The wetness spread down her cheeks to drip into the increasing dampness of her dress.

Jack’s hand trembled. He forced himself not to curl into a ball, to rock, to banish the reality of the situation with thoughts that Flynn would come to save him. “B-but, he had a wife to go home to—”

“He had a terrible fate to bear!” she snarled.

“But he didn’t! After he left you, the Phaecians crafted him a marvelous boat, and sure, Poseidon destroyed it, but he fights off all of Penelope’s suitors, and he—and they—you—you kept Odysseus prisoner from his wife for seven years for no reason! You are an evil witch! A ‘terrible fate…’” Jack’s mockery died to horror. He took another step back, so the waterfall of sunlight and the child’s skeleton lay between their two spaces of shadow. Jack pressed against the cavern wall, feeling Odysseus’ scrawling, the numbers of days he’d desperately clawed out before he was allowed to return to his love. “‘A terrible fate…’” His memory whirled in the alarm. “That’s what you said about me… Oh titans—Oh Flynn! How long have I been here?!” He racked his fingers across the grooves in the wall, as though Odysseus’ ghost had kept a record in Jack’s absentmindedness.

How many other caves did Calypso have hidden? Ones with corpses of other lover’s children and other lover’s imprisonments.

“Jack…” Calypso’s voice chipped with emotion. She opened her hands towards him, as though for an embrace. “Come here. Let’s get away from this tomb. Let’s go sing on the beach or collect fruits and vegetables for breakfast…”

Something made Jack’s skin tingle. Hands, gentle but firm, clamped around his arms and dragged him forward, towards her. Her invisible servants.

Jack squirmed and fought, but each heartbeat glided him past and away from the dead child, from where Odysseus carved his days and the name of his love, and towards the outstretched arms of a spider in a woman’s skin.

The invisible hands released him at the edge of her fingertips. The warm, soft skin graced his neck.

Jack wrenched back. He ducked under her arm and out the tomb. Tree branches and foliage lashed his face and arms as he stumbled outside. The ground felt warm against his bare feet, the ocean breeze as soothing as a tranquilizer. His heartbeat pounded in cacophony to the easing whisper of the incoming tide. He kept running until he found the beach.

“Jack… you can’t leave.”

Her words came directly behind him, steady, with no indication that she’d run to catch up.

He whirled to find her standing there: perfect braid still dampening her dress, frown dripping with tears, face something he would find on a stained-glass window instead of before him in the planes of reality.

Water lapped up against his ankle. He swallowed down the salty air to quiet his stomach and the panic screaming in his head. “They’ll come for me,” he said, taking another step backwards. The rush of water hit his calf.

She shook her head. “They can’t.”

“I’ll—I’ll try every day!” Something sharp—maybe a shell—split Jack’s heel, but he refused to look away. If he blinked, she might grab him again. “I’ll swim as far as I can swim until I can’t swim anymore.”

Her throat bobbed with a sob. “I will not let you kill yourself in such a way! Besides…” She stared off into the distance, the dawn’s glimmer reflecting off her almond eyes. “Don’t you think Odysseus tried that? Where do you think he ended up as soon as he lost consciousness?”

Jack’s jaw dropped. He shook his head and stomped a foot into the surf. “No—no—there must be a way—”

“Jack, you can’t get away.” All the mirth and sweetness left her voice reduced to a clogged drone. “There is no leaving this place. No matter where you go—”

“No—”

“—all roads lead back to me. And—”

“Shut up!”

“—I’m tired of being alone.”

“I said shut up!” the words vibrated painfully in his throat.

Her lip quivered. “Why must you be so cruel, brave one?”

“Cruel? Cruel?!” Jack laughed until his voice felt hoarse. “What’s cruel is keeping me away from my home—”

“I get you for at least seven years!” It was her turn to ball her fists in a fit of temper, like the pastor’s daughter caught taking ice cream money out of the donation box. “If you stay, you’ll have immorality. You’ll have agelessness. You’ll have your sanity!”

“I don’t want any of those things! All I want is my family—”

“I can be your family—unlike that barren, disfigured whore who refuses to be your wife.”

Jack’s terror and panic twisted tightly in his stomach. Blood thumped against his ears. His fingers trembled as he clutched at the guitar string braided around his wrist. “You can’t assume every person that washes ashore will fall in love with you, you presumptuous—”

“But, that’s how it works. That’s how it always works. You will love me.” That fragile, kindly veneer chipped.

Jack thought about the notches Odysseus carved into the wall, about the other dead children probably hidden in caverns throughout the island. How many times had Calypso been abandoned over the years? He may have pitied her if it hadn’t broken her mind and warped her into the exact, spoiled goddess Camp Othrys sought to destroy.

Sanity. She offered me sanity. Jack didn’t want this ability to reason. Life made sense here and the sense it made was cold, dark, and absurd.

“Ms. Calypso,” he whispered, “I know you’re too old to be acquainted with this, but, Stockholm syndrome isn’t love. It’s exhaustion, compliance, and distorted empathy. Forcing someone to love you by wearing them down isn’t love at all—it’s perversion, it’s defilement—” He scowled, locking his jaw. “Take back what you said about Flynn.”

Calypso’s beauty soured with anger. The island itself seemed to thicken with fog. “I don’t want to hear anymore about Flynn.”

“Why? Because what Odysseus said about Penelope doesn’t apply here?” Jack demanded, reviewing the verses of the epic. Odysseus had complimented Calypso, caved to her, if nothing else than out of fear of a wrathful goddess. Jack snorted, “’I know that my wise Penelope, when a man looks at her, is far beneath you in form and stature.’ You’re not better than Flynn. She doesn’t base her worth off needing a man’s romantic love, you delusional, archaic bitch. And I’m never going to stop trying to get back to her. And if you think you won’t let me go…” Jack’s nails dug into the metal of his guitar chord. “I’m going to make you.”

Calypso’s eyes blazed with rage. The air went static, breeze abruptly dying, and the tide seemed to smother its unending whisper. As Jack had experienced some of the times Luke lost his temper to Kronos, Jack realized he was in the presence of a goddess—an immortal being with powers he could not fathom. And he was about to fight her to go home.

“I’m going to make you sick.” Jack laughed. This wasn’t the overpowering need to quiet his siblings. This was a much more calculated hatred. “And if you still won’t let me leave, I’ll make you sicker. I’ll give you leprosy to rot off your nose and show you what superficial love gives you!”

She may have been a goddess that cornered Odysseus, but he was Jak-Jak the Plague Bringer, the Scourge of New Rome, the Shame of Apollo and he was ready to sing.

“Darling, all night

I have been flickering—”[1]

Calypso’s anger melted back to sadness. She raised a hand, and Jack wondered if here, already, was a sign of defeat.

The collar of Jack’s shirt constricted. The strings—so carefully spun on Calypso’s loom—obediently stretched up his neck. Folds of cloth twisted into his open mouth. The song died. He choked on the gag.

Jack fumbled with the material. He clawed where the ridges dug into his cheeks. As soon as his forearms came up, the front of his tunic fused to his shirt sleeves. The material tightened, binding him until he was stuck in the position of Van Gogh’s Scream.

Something tugged at his feet. Jack frantically searched down. Strands unwound from the end of his pants, crisscrossing and weaving. He managed one step backwards before it cinched his feet together.

His choked screams clogged to whimpers. Jack collapsed into the water, thrashing. Salt water splashed into his eyes, mixing with his tears. The material soaked up what had once been a refreshing coastline.

Flynn! He wanted to shriek. Oh, titans, please—Flynn! As Calypso’s wet dress sashayed closer, the pounding in his head increased, encasing him like the full body straight jacket she’d hidden in his clothing.

Calypso’s dress winkled with the layering of stratocumulus clouds. The soothing lull of water resumed, a mocking cacophony to his clashing heartbeat. He wished the ocean would overtake him, that the waves would encircle him like this binding and drag him into its uncaring depths, away from her caring embrace.

Fingers graced his cheek. They were warm to the touch in the iciness of the island. Jack sobbed, thinking about kissing after Flynn’s fingers in the morning, about never getting to feel her calluses again.

These fingers, Calypso’s fingers, were silky, salacious, and knew the methodical patience of a spider feeling its web vibrate. “No, Jack,” she cooed, lifting his head from the sand and water. “No, you won’t. You’re going to stay here.” She curled the strands of his hair off his forehead. Her dress—more suffocating material—pressed into his cheek as she lay his head in her lap. “And we’ll be happy together forever.” Or for seven years. Or at least until a god came to save him.

They sat on the edge of the beach, staring off into an eternal sunrise with the sound of her hums and Jack’s whimpers in euphony with the tide.

Seven years. Or until a god saved him.

Jack had forsaken all gods and time didn’t pass in Ogygia.

***

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! and thank all of you for your patience at this time and your continued interest despite my hiatus! I hope you enjoyed!

Footnote:

[1] Silvia Plath.

#Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #PJO #HOO #fanfiction #TOO #Traitors of Olympus #Jack #Calypso #AND THE REVEAL

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96harmony96 · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 5

I had a vicious hangover on Saturday morning and figured it was no less than I deserved. As much as I’d resented Lauren’s insistence on negotiating sex with as much passion as she would a merger, in the end I’d negotiated in kind. Because I wanted her enough to take a calculated risk and break my own rules.

I took comfort in knowing she was breaking some of her own, too.

After a long, hot shower, I made my way into the living room and found Cary on the couch with his netbook, looking fresh and alert. Smelling coffee in the kitchen, I headed there and filled the biggest mug I could find.

“Morning, sunshine,” Cary called out.

With my much-needed dose of caffeine wrapped between both palms, I joined him on the couch.

He pointed at a box on the end table. “That came for you while you were in the shower.”

I set my mug on the coffee table and picked up the box. It was wrapped with brown paper and twine, and had my name handwritten diagonally across the top with a decorative calligraphic flourish. Inside was an amber glass bottle with Hangover Cure painted on it in a white old-fashioned font and a note tied with raffia to the bottle’s neck that said, ��Drink me.” Lauren’s business card was nestled in the cushioning tissue paper.

As I studied the gift, I found it very apt. Since meeting Lauren I’d felt like I’d fallen down the rabbit hole into a fascinating and seductive world where few of the known rules applied. I was in uncharted territory that was both exciting and scary.

I glanced at Cary, who eyed the bottle dubiously.

“Cheers.” I pried the cork out and drank the contents without thinking twice about it. It tasted like sickly sweet cough syrup. My stomach quivered in distaste for a moment, and then heated. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and shoved the cork back into the empty bottle.

“What was that?” Cary asked.

“From the burn, it’s hair of the dog.”

His nose wrinkled. “Effective but unpleasant.”

And it was working. I already felt a little steadier.

Cary picked up the box and dug out Lauren’s card. He flipped it over; then held it out to me. On the back Lauren had written, “Call me” in bold slashing penmanship and jotted down a number.

I took the card, curling my hand around it. Her gift was proof that she was thinking about me. Her tenacity and focus was seductive. And flattering.

There was no denying I was in trouble where Lauren was concerned. I craved the way I felt when she touched me, and I loved the way she responded when I touched her back. When I tried to think of what I wouldn’t agree to do to have her hands on me again, I couldn’t come up with much.

When Cary tried to hand me the phone, I shook my head. “Not yet. I need a clear head when dealing with her and I’m still fuzzy.”

“You two seemed cozy last night. She’s definitely into you.”

“I’m definitely into her.” Curling into the corner of the couch, I pressed my cheek into the cushion and hugged my legs to my chest. “We’re going to hang out, get to know each other, have casual-but-physically-intense sex, and be otherwise completely independent. No strings, no expectations, no responsibilities.”

Cary hit a button on his netbook and the printer on the other side of the room started spitting out pages. Then he snapped the computer closed, set it on the coffee table, and gave me all his attention. “Maybe it’ll turn into something serious.”

“Maybe not,” I scoffed.

“Cynic.”

“I’m not looking for happily-ever-after, Cary, especially not with a mega-mogul like Jauregui. I’ve seen what it’s like for my mom being connected to powerful men. It’s a full-time job with a part-time companion. Money keeps Mom happy, but it wouldn’t be enough for me.”

My dad had loved my mom. He’d asked her to marry him and share his life. She’d turned him down because he didn’t have the hefty portfolio and sizeable bank account she required in a husband. Love wasn’t a requisite for marriage in Sinuhe Stanton’s opinion and since her sultry-eyed, breathy-voiced beauty was irresistible to most men, she’d never had to settle for less than whatever she wanted. Unfortunately she hadn’t wanted my dad for the long haul.

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was ten thirty. “I guess I should get ready.”

“I love spa day with your mom.” Cary smiled and it chased the lingering shadows on my mood away. “I feel like a god when we’re done.”

“Me, too. Of the goddess persuasion.”

We were so eager to be off that we went downstairs to meet the car rather than wait for the front desk to call up.

The doorman smiled as we stepped outside—me in heeled sandals and a maxi dress, and Cary in hip-hugging jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Good morning, Miss Cabello. Mr. Taylor. Will you need a cab today?”

“No thanks, Paul. We’re expecting a car.” Cary grinned. “It’s spa day at Perrini’s!”

“Ah, Perrini’s Day Spa.” Paul gave a sage nod. “I bought my wife a gift certificate for our anniversary. She enjoyed it so much I plan to make it a tradition.”

“You did good, Paul,” I said. “Pampering a woman never goes out of style.”

A black town car pulled up with Clancy at the wheel. Paul opened the rear door for us and we climbed in, squealing when we found a box of Knipschildt’s Chocopologie on the seat. Waving at Paul, we settled back and dug in, taking tiny nibbles of the truffles that were worth savoring slowly.

Clancy drove us straight to Perrini’s, where the relaxation began from the moment one walked in the door. Crossing the entrance threshold was like taking a vacation on the far side of the world. Every arched doorway was framed by lushly vibrant striped silks, while jeweled pillows decorated elegant chaises and oversized armchairs.

Birds chirped from suspended gilded cages and potted plants filled every corner with lush fronds. Small decorative fountains added the sounds of running water, while stringed instrumental music was piped into the room via cleverly hidden speakers. The air was redolent with a mix of exotic spices and fragrances, making me feel like I’d stepped into Arabian Nights.

It was this-close to being too much, but it didn’t cross the line. Instead, Perrini’s was exotic and luxurious, an indulgent treat for those who could afford it. Like my mother, who’d just finished a milk-and-honey bath when we arrived.

I studied the menu of treatments available, deciding to skip my usual “warrior woman” in favor of the “passionate pampering.” I’d been waxed the week before, but the rest of the treatment—“designed to make you sexually irresistible”—sounded like exactly what I needed.

I’d finally managed to get my mind back into the safe zone of work when Cary spoke up from the pedicure chair beside mine.

“Mrs. Stanton, have you met Lauren Jauregui?”

I gaped at him. He knew damn well my mom went nuts over any news about my romantic—and not-so-romantic, as the case may be—relationships.

My mother, who sat in the chair on the other side of me, leaned forward with her usual girlish excitement over a rich, handsome man. “Of course. She’s one of the wealthiest women in the world. Number twenty-five or so on Forbes’s list, if I’m remembering correctly. A very driven young woman, obviously, and a generous benefactor to many of the children’s charities I champion. Extremely eligible, of course, but I don’t believe she's straight , Cary. She’s got a reputation as a ladies’ pleaser.”

“My loss.” Cary grinned and ignored my violent headshaking. “But it’d be a hopeless crush anyway, since she’s digging on Camila.”

“Camila! I can’t believe you didn’t say anything. How could you not tell me something like that?”

I looked at my mom, whose scrubbed face appeared young, unlined, and very much like mine. I was very clearly my mother’s daughter, right down to my surname. The one concession she’d made to my father had been to name me after his mother.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I insisted. “We’re just…friends.”

“We can do better than that,” Sinuhe said, with a look of calculation that struck fear in my heart. “I don’t know how it escaped me that you work in the same building she does. I’m certain she was smitten the moment she saw you. Although she’s known to prefer blondes…Hmm…Anyway. sHe’s also known for her excellent taste. Clearly the latter won out with you.”

“It’s not like that. Please don’t start meddling. You’ll embarrass me.”

“Nonsense. If anyone knows what to do with men, it’s me.”

I cringed, my shoulders creeping up to my ears. By the time my massage appointment came around, I was in desperate need of one. I stretched out on the table and closed my eyes, preparing to take a catnap to get through the long night ahead.

I loved dressing up and looking pretty as much as the next girl, but charity functions were a lot of work. Making small talk was exhausting, smiling nonstop was a pain, and conversations about businesses and people I didn’t know were boring. If it wasn’t for Cary benefitting from the exposure, I’d put up a bigger fight about going.

I sighed. Who was I fooling? I’d end up going anyway. My mom and Stanton supported abused children’s charities because they were significant to me. Going to the occasional stuffy event was a small price to pay for the return.

Taking a deep breath, I consciously relaxed. I made a mental note to call my dad when I got home and thought about how to send a thank-you note to Lauren for the hangover cure. I supposed I could e-mail her using the contact info on her business card, but that lacked class. Besides, I didn’t know who read her inbox.

I’d just call her when I got home. Why not? She’d asked—no, told—me to; she’d written the demand on her business card. And I’d get to hear her luscious voice again.

The door opened and the masseuse came in. “Hello, Camila. You ready?”

Not quite. But I was getting there.

___

After many lovely hours at the spa, my mom and Cary dropped me off at the apartment; then they headed out to hunt for new cuff links for Stanton. I used the time alone to call Lauren. Even with the much-needed privacy, I punched most of her phone number into the keypad a half-dozen times before I finally put the call through.

She answered on the first ring. “Camila.”

W that she’d known who was calling, my mind scrambled for a moment. How did she have my name and number in her contact list? “Uh…hi, Lauren.”

“I’m a block away. Let the front desk know I’m coming.”

“What?” I felt like I’d missed part of the conversation. “Coming where?”

“To your place. I’m rounding the corner now. Call the desk, Camila.”

she hung up and I stared at the phone, trying to absorb the fact that Lauren was moments away from being with me again. Somewhat dazed, I went to the intercom and talked to the front desk, letting them know I was expecting her and while I was talking, she walked into the lobby. A few moments after that, she was at my door.

It was then that I remembered I was dressed in only a thigh-length silk robe, and my face and hair were styled for the dinner. What kind of impression would she get from my appearance?

I tightened the belt of my robe before I let her in. It wasn’t like I’d invited her over for a seduction or anything.

Lauren stood in the hallway for a long moment, her gaze raking me from my head down to my French manicured toes. I was equally stunned by her appearance. The way she looked in worn jeans and a T-shirt made me want to undress her with my teeth.

“Worth the trip to find you like this, Camila.” sHe stepped inside and locked the door behind her. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Thanks to you. Thank you.” My stomach quivered because she was here, with me, which made me feel almost…giddy. “That can’t be why you came over.”

“I’m here because it took you too long to call me.”

“I didn’t realize I had a deadline.”

“I have to ask you something time-sensitive, but more than that, I wanted to know if you were feeling all right after last night.” Her eyes were dark as they swept over me, her breathtaking face framed by that luxurious curtain of inky hair. “God. You look beautiful, Camila. I can’t remember ever wanting anything this much.”

With just those few simple words I became hot and needy. Way too vulnerable. “What’s so urgent?”

“Go with me to the advocacy center dinner tonight.”

I pulled back, surprised and excited by the request. “You’re going?”

“So are you. I checked, knowing your mother would be there. Let’s go together.”

My hand went to my throat, my mind torn between the weirdness of how much she knew about me and concern over what she was asking me to do. “That’s not what I meant when I said we should spend time together.”

“Why not?” The simple question was laced with challenge. “What’s the problem with going together to an event we’d already planned on attending separately?”

“It’s not very discreet. It’s a high-profile event.”

“So?” Lauren stepped closer and fingered a curl of my hair.

There was a dangerous purr to her voice that sent a shiver through me. I could feel the warmth of her big, hard body and smell the richly musky scent of her skin. I was falling under her spell, deeper with every minute that passed.

“People will make assumptions, my mother in particular. She’s already scenting your bachelor blood in the water.”

Lowering her head, Lauren pressed her lips into the crook of my neck. “I don’t care what people think. We know what we’re doing. And I’ll deal with your mother.”

“If you think you can,” I said breathlessly, “you don’t know her very well.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Her tongue traced the wildly throbbing vein in my throat and I melted into her, my body going lax as she pulled me close.

Still, I managed to say, “I haven’t said yes.”

“But you won’t say no.” sHe caught my earlobe between her teeth. “I won’t let you.”

I opened my mouth to protest and she sealed her lips over mine, shutting me up with a lush wet kiss. Her tongue did that slow, savoring licking that made me long to feel her doing the same between my legs. My hands went to her hair, sliding through it, tugging. When she wrapped her arms around me, I arched, curving into her hands.

Just as she had in her office, she had me on my back on the couch before I realized she was moving me, her mouth swallowing my surprised gasp. The robe gave way to her dexterous fingers; then she was cupping my breasts, kneading them with soft, rhythmic squeezes.

“Lauren—”

“Shh.” sHe sucked on my lower lip, her fingers rolling and tugging my tender nipples. “It was driving me crazy knowing you were naked beneath your robe.”

“You came over without—Oh! Oh, God…”

Her mouth surrounded the tip of my breast, the wash of heat bringing a mist of perspiration to my skin.

My gaze darted frantically to the clock on the cable box. “Lauren, no.”

Her head lifted and she looked at me with stormy green eyes. “It’s insane, I know. I don’t—I can’t explain it, Camila, but I have to make you come. I’ve been thinking about it constantly for days now.”

One of her hands pushed between my legs. They fell open shamelessly, my body so aroused I was flushed and almost feverish. Her other hand continued to plump my breasts, making them heavy and unbearably sensitive.

“You’re wet for me,” she murmured, her gaze sliding down my body to where she was parting me with her fingers. “You’re beautiful here, too. Plush and pink. So soft. You didn’t wax today, did you?”

I shook my head.

“Thank God. I don’t think I would’ve made it ten minutes without touching you, let alone ten hours.” She slid one finger carefully into me.

My eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked and fingered by a woman whose familiarity with the rules of Brazilian waxing betrayed an intimate knowledge of women. A woman who was still fully clothed and kneeling on the floor beside me.

“You’re so snug.” Lauren pulled out and thrust gently back into me. My back bowed as I clenched eagerly around her. “And so greedy. How long has it been since the last time you were fucked?”

I swallowed hard. “I’ve been busy. My thesis, job-hunting, moving…”

“A while, then.” sHe pulled out and pushed back into me with two fingers. I couldn’t hold back a moan of delight. The woman had talented hands, confident and skilled, and she took what he wanted with them.

“Are you on birth control, Camila?”

“Yes.” My hands gripped the edges of the cushions. “Of course.”

“I’ll prove I’m clean and you’ll do the same, then you’re going to let me come in you.”

“Jesus, Lauren.” I was panting for her, my hips circling shamelessly onto her thrusting fingers. I felt like I’d spontaneously combust if she didn’t get me off.

I’d never been so turned on in my life. I was near mindless with the need for an orgasm. If Cary walked in right then and found me writhing in our living room while Lauren finger-fucked me, I didn’t think I’d care.

Lauren was breathing hard, too. Her face was flushed with lust. For me. When I’d done nothing more than respond helplessly to her.

Her hand at my breast moved to my cheek and brushed over it. “You’re blushing. I’ve scandalized you.”

“Yes.”

Her smile was both wicked and delighted, and it made my chest tight. “I want to feel my cum in you when I fuck you with my fingers. I want you to feel my cum in you, so you think about how I looked and the sounds I made when I pumped it into you. And while you’re thinking about that, you’re going to look forward to me doing it again and again.”

My sex rippled around her stroking fingers, the rawness of her words pushing me to the brink of orgasm.

“I’m going to tell you all the ways I want you to please me, Camila, and you’re going to do it all…take it all, and we’re going to have explosive, primal, no-holds-barred sex. You know that, don’t you? You can feel how it’ll be between us.”

“Yes,” I breathed, clutching my breasts to ease the deep ache of my hardened nipples. “Please, Lauren.”

“Shh…I’ve got you.” The pad of her thumb rubbed my clitoris in gentle circles. “Look into my eyes when you come for me.”

Everything tightened in my core, the tension building as she massaged my clit and pushed her fingers in and out in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

“Give it up to me, Camila,” she ordered. “Now.”

I climaxed with a thready cry, my grip white-knuckled on the sides of the cushions as my hips pumped onto her hand, my mind far beyond shame or shyness. My gaze was locked to her, unable to look away, riveted by the fierce masculine triumph that flared in her eyes. In that moment she owned me. I’d do anything she wanted. And she knew it.

Searing pleasure pulsed through me. Through the roaring of blood in my ears, I thought I heard her speak hoarsely, but I lost the words when she hooked one of my legs over the back of the couch and covered my cleft with her mouth.

“No—” I pushed at her head with my hands. “I can’t.”

I was too swollen, too sensitive. But when her tongue touched my clit, fluttering over it, the hunger built again. More intense than the first time. she rimmed my trembling slit, teasing me, taunting me with the promise of another orgasm when I knew I couldn’t have one again so quickly.

Then her tongue speared into me and I bit my lip to bite back a scream. I came a second time, my body quaking violently, tender muscles tightening desperately around her decadent licking. Her growl vibrated through me. I didn’t have the strength to push her away when she returned to my clit and sucked softly…tirelessly…until I climaxed again, gasping her name.

I was boneless as she straightened my leg and still breathless when she pressed kisses up my belly to my breasts. she licked each of my nipples, and then hauled me up with her arms banded around my back. I hung lax and pliable in her grip while she took my mouth with suppressed violence, bruising my lips and betraying how close to the edge she was.

she closed my robe; then stood, staring down at me.

“Lauren…?”

“Seven o’clock, Camila.” sHe reached down and touched my ankle, her fingertips caressing the diamond anklet I’d put on in preparation for the evening. “And keep this on. I want to fuck you while you’re wearing nothing else.”

#camren shipper #camren fanfiction #camren #lauren jauregui #lauren jauregay #camila cabello #camila and lauren #lauren and camila #fanfic #gip #camren gip #Laurengip #g!p #fifth harmony #Jauregui fire

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 4 years ago

Text

Pairings: Roman x His Mystery Boyfriend, Romantic Andy x Pryce, Intrulogical (Remus x Logan)

Word Count: 1,878 Words

Summary: Snakes, Deceit in the hospital yet again, and Roman being touch starved as usual.

Warnings: Sex Mentions, Cursing, Snake Mention, Cancer Mention, Sick Character, Immunocompromised Character, Food Mention, Death Mention, Touch Starved Character, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Note: Bolded and blockquoted are actions in their chatroom, not a message.

Usernames, a quick translation guide: Andy: Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero), Castor: schrodingersdumbass, Dayd: carniverousroomba, Dice: Dr. Bitch, Emile: Thera-pissed, Halley: aspermylastemail, Janus: SnekBoi, Logan: Momgan, October: eatpavementido, Orion: birdgeoisie, Patton: Papa Bear, Pollux: satantakemehome, Pryce: SwEeTvErUcA, Remus: Octopussy, Remy: Coffee Bandit, Roman: waaahluigi, Sirius: literalsunshine, Teal: uwu, Thomas: shrexy, Virgil: spipples, Vita: þiccness

A Very Sanders Group Chat: Chapter 8

1:17PM

SnekBoi: Inny, did you feed my snakes?

Octopussy: I did.

SnekBoi: Oh good, I was worried about Ceres. She's only taken her food from me before.

shrexy: Ceres?

Octopussy: baby Burmese Python Dee just got.

SnekBoi: And I have more snakes that will be laying soon.

Thera-pissed has kicked SnekBoi from the chat

Thera-pissed: Seriously, Inny, is he okay? He looks really pale.

Octopussy: well, he's in observation so, obviously, no. he's pretty much running himself down again. he said he plans to reopen his studio again on the fourteenth against me and Dice's medical advice. he's currently digging his hole and he's going to have to work his way out of it when he finally crashes again.

Thera-pissed: Well, how deep in the hole is he?

Dr. Bitch: Currently, he's at least twenty pounds underweight even though he's eating like he should, he's just burning it off by straining himself so much. He had at least two nosebleeds while he was hospitalized last night so it's inevitable that he'll have to do the induction again because it's just not working.

Octopussy: plus, this morning he couldn't open a tupperware I brought him, so I'd say he's pretty much back at the beginning again.

Dr. Bitch: You didn't tell me that you brought him extra food.

Octopussy: he said he'd tell you.

Dr. Bitch: So he's lying between us now.

Octopussy: maybe trying to make himself stronger by lying to people he's connected to emotionally?

Dr. Bitch: Maybe.

Octopussy: if he gets any better, maybe that's the point of his lying right now but just keep eyes on him so his lying can't backfire on him.

Dr. Bitch: I always have a nurse near his room. He's too dangerous left alone for too long.

Octopussy: I have to get back to work, Alice came in with Hannah and Hannah needs her fur de-matted again and if I make Riley deal with her for too long, he'll scream in the break room later.

Dr. Bitch: I wish you could just take the animal from the owners that don't care about them.

Octopussy: I'm not getting fired to rescue dogs, Dicey.

Octopussy: plus you have that kitten now, you can't take care of a month and a half old kitten, a dog, and your job.

Dr. Bitch: You're right and I hate you.

Octopussy: don't lie, bitch, you love me.

Dr. Bitch: Irrelevant.

Octopussy: anyway, work.

Dr. Bitch has deleted 12 messages

Dr. Bitch has added SnekBoi to the chatroom

SnekBoi: You booted me to talk about animals?

Dr. Bitch: No, we were talking about our Christmas present ideas for you and ended up talking about animals.

SnekBoi: Fine.

SnekBoi: Also, you're across the hall at the nurse's station talking to Miss Esme, I can literally see you, Dice, you could just say that to my face.

Dr. Bitch: And yet you just texted me back instead of calling over to me.

SnekBoi: Touche.

SnekBoi: Anyway, back to looking at snakes.

shrexy: Oh yeah, Dee, you breed snakes?

SnekBoi: Well, it started out an accident, actually. Me and Inny moved our rooms around last year after brumation and we put a few of my snakes that could be temporarily cohabed in bins together for a few days so we could do it and quite a number of the snakes got gravid. Roman owns a couple of the amazon tree boas, actually.

SnekBoi: This year we got a new adult garter thinking it was a boy and we only found out it was a girl when we saw Inny's garter snake locked with her and, by then she had already mated so we're just waiting now. Plus we actually decided to see what happens with our sunbeams, only because we want to at least try with them to get babies since it's so hard to get them not wild-caught.

waaahluigi: Livia and Caius are very happy by the way.

shrexy: I now want a snake.

SnekBoi: You really want me and Inny to vet you?

shrexy: Sure?

SnekBoi: Dice, can I have visitors?

Dr. Bitch: I have said this like four times each time you're in here. Only if they wear a mask and so do you.

SnekBoi: Fine. Thomas, come here and wear a mask.

shrexy: Why?

SnekBoi: Because I'm going to vet you first while Inny's working to get it out of the way and I can't leave the hospital for another six days so get in here.

shrexy: I guess I'm going in my head again.

2:40PM

SnekBoi: Trial number one is over. He passed.

waaahluigi: How!? It took me like three tries!

SnekBoi: He knows a lot about snakes, what can I say?

Momgan: Can confirm, Thomas knows quite a bit about snakes since he wanted learn if your scales were indeed slimy and he happened to fall down a rabbit hole and got extremely interested in them.

shrexy: Stop exposing my late-night rabbit hole knowledge to others, Logan.

Momgan: We all live in your head, it literally does not matter.

SnekBoi: Second trial; Inny. Someone you don't even know. Good luck.

shrexy: Yeah, I'm making him trial three, I'm buying snake stuff for trial two.

SnekBoi: Using the stuff I recommended or something else?

shrexy: Stuff you recommended.

SnekBoi: Smart man.

4:30PM

Octopussy: hey, Dee, I went home for lunch and guess what happened?

SnekBoi: No way. Baby garters? Did Venus have babies?

Octopussy: nope, neither. you remember how how we left Juno and Jupiter together earlier this year because we ran out of separators while we had to shift them from their quarantine bins to their enclosures?

SnekBoi: Tell me they didn't.

Octopussy: I think Juno's newly laid litter means they did.

SnekBoi: Well, it looks like unfortunately have baby rainbow boas.

spipples: I want one.

SnekBoi: You really want a snake? You've told us for years you didn't want to own them.

spipples: I was thinking of looking for a cute little noodle and Juno and Jupiter are just plain beautiful so their babies have to be pretty too.

SnekBoi: Reasonable, rainbow boas are pretty as hell.

Octopussy: do you even have an enclosure for a baby rainbow boa?

spipples: I already have an extra 20 gallon enclosure from getting Celeste. I got the wrong one. It was too small for Celeste so I ended up having a spare 20 gallon.

SnekBoi: Amazing, this one is the first one to already have both an enclosure and past snake experience with our babies.

spipples: Oh yeah, I've fed Minerva before.

SnekBoi: Do we even need to continue vetting him?

Octopussy: I still will, this is the first time Juno's had babies and I'm still counting.

SnekBoi: Jeez, how many are you at?

Octopussy: well, I'm doing it alone and I'm searching Juno's enclosure so I'm not even counting yet, I'm still cleaning. it has to be at least seven though.

SnekBoi: Good lord, Juno.

Octopussy: Juno cares not for your so called "lord", she will make any number of squirmy children she wants. and apparently that number was a lot. I'm already above ten.

SnekBoi: I believe it.

Octopussy: just look how pretty this bucket of large rainbowey worms are.

Octopussy: abakersdozenofrainbowboas.jpg

spipples: Wow, they're beautiful.

shrexy: Oh wow, they're so pretty!

waaahluigi: I would kill for them.

Coffee Bandit: I think they look very squirmy and cute. A+ work right there, Juno.

SnekBoi: Oh yeah, Virgil. Time for vetting. Come see me.

spipples: Wish me luck not to die.

Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero): Don't die, I'm not qualified to raise my nephews and niece.

spipples: Fair.

7:45PM

SnekBoi: I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep again. Live on without me, you feeble simpletons.

spipples: Yeah sure, jackass.

SnekBoi: Love you too, bastard.

spipples: Fair.

SnekBoi is offline

spipples: Hey, Inny, can we talk alone?

Octopussy: Nu-uh. I just got home and I'll be incriminated. Witness.

spipples: Fine, Andy, come with me.

Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero): Fiiiiiiine.

spipples, Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero), and Octopussy are now offline

shrexy: Should I be worried about them.

Dr. Bitch: Virgil seemed extremely worried about Deceit, which is seeable given Dee has declined in health quite a bit lately with his recurrence and he's not quite getting much better as of yet given he's stressing himself out more than he's helping himself get better.

shrexy: Isn't there a way to make him stop that?

Dr. Bitch: We're fortunately unfortunate that he's stubborn. His stubbornness has served well going through things like induction and maintenance but he's absolutely shit at consolidation.

shrexy: Do you think he'll be okay? He's just getting worse.

Dr. Bitch. Like I do with all my patients, I hope he'll get better but, right now, it doesn't seem like he will be unless something changes and he finally stops being so self-destructive.

shrexy: So, no?

Dr. Bitch: I don't think he will, but I don't think he'll die and he knows that. he's a part of you, he can't die, he'll just be in a lot of pain for a very long time and will likely go dormant.

shrexy: It's a relief he won't die but I don't want him to be in pain.

Dr. Bitch: Well, we don't really have a choice. We have the option of I either do my best and get him into remission again and hope it doesn't come back again or I give up on my favorite patient and let him drive himself into the ground again. And you have the option of living with him or rejecting him.

shrexy: I know.

Dr. Bitch: Now I need to work, I get to go home soon.

shrexy: Good luck, Dice!

Dr. Bitch: Yeah, yeah.

Dr. Bitch is offline

Momgan: I'm not surprised that I worked and this chat, yet again, is chaos.

Papa Bear: Yeah, it usually is chaotic while we aren't here, huh Lo?

Momgan: It is. Sometimes I'm shocked any of them have a single braincell between them.

Papa Bear: You're right! Our beloved braincell is at work, so they lose their minds.

waaahluigi: I resent that!

Momgan: We know you're chaotic because you miss us, Roman.

waaahluigi: No! I just get...

waaahluigi: ...bored stupid.

Momgan: Would you like to hug, Roman?

waaahluigi: Wait, you're offering to hug me? You? The robot?

Momgan: Well, given I am designated the group mother, I may as well give you motherly affection.

waaahluigi: I would kill to hug someone.

Momgan: Roman, are you touch starved?

waaahluigi: No! Of course not! I just like attention!

þiccness: He is. Mom refuses to admit it but he is touch starved quite frequently.

Momgan: I guess I'm staying with you then until you have had an adequate amount of touch.

waaahluigi: Hang on, gonna cry real quick because Lo's being so nice to me.

shrexy: Aw, bud! Cuddle pile on Roman time!

SwEeTvErUcA: You mean flop on my brother like he's a pancake and I'm butter? Great idea!

waaahluigi: Wait nonono!

uwu: Hey what was that bang?

waaahluigi: Ow.

uwu: Ah, two touch starved triplets. Makes sense. Carry on.

Momgan: Oh no, you're getting in on this too, Teal.

uwu: What god did I offend to be taken from doing my work like this?

Momgan: All of them.

uwu: Sounds about right, deal.

Taglist: @glaxyjellyfish @chronophobica @fear-ze-queer @imma-potatoo

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write-like-you-mean-it · 4 years ago

Text

A Hunter’s Prey: Books, Stars, and Drinks

I was awoken by the sweet sound of birds chirping in the morning. Weird I thought as my eyes finally blinked open. My hands move freely to stretch up above my head and I yawn. I realized that I wasn’t in the grey pit of emptiness. Instead, I felt the plush softness of a warm bed.

I realized where I was. My mind had let me rest enough to forget about last night. I was in Illumi’s bed. I would rather be in the pit than anywhere else near him.

For this room being Illumi’s, there seemed to lack any sense of the man. Where would he go? I looked down at my wrist as they felt lighter than normal. The chains were gone. The same with the ones on my legs. I was a free woman.

The freedom felt strange. I was a caged bird that finally let the door open, but was too afraid to leave. I could leave. I pulled off the covers of the bed and went to look at the trinkets that lined the walls and desk.

On Illumi’s desks, there was a singular black lamp, a leather bound book, and stacks of pins. This must be his work area. It was so clean that anyone would be happy to eat off the surface of the table.

My curiosity got the better of me and I picked up the little book. Inside it was a calendar. Each day was outlined with a task. The beginning of this month was filled with tasks to assassinate many of the higher power leaders. Some of them I recognized, but a lot I didn’t. It was for the best that I didn't know them. The days were marked out with a dark red pen.

I looked back a few pages to see notes left about last month. Each one was written perfectly. All the dates, times, money, and details of death put into the book. Many millions were requested by the party. Some of the other family members' names were next to dates. One name caught my eye: Killua.

I flipped to the date that had Killua’s name. Rather than a target, it was just his brother’s name. Was he trying to kill his brother? No. I remembered that Silva stated that they do not kill family. It must be some other task but what could it be?

The months continued to look the same. Money transitions, family members, and the death of leaders. That was all until September of last year. On one of the dates, there was a small name: mine. Rather than the normal formal handwriting, it was scribbled quickly. I quickly flipped to my name in the notes section. There wasn’t a dollar amount or family name written by it. Instead, it was my phone number and address and a little star by my name.

The more I stared at my name, the more it distorted. I checked the rest of the book to see if there was anyone else treated with the same care. There were only 4 other names that had my treatment: Hisoka, Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio. Some of them had more details than others but they all had a star by their names. I wonder why I’m in the same boat as them?

I place the book down and pick up a few pins. They felt completely normal instead of heavy. I don’t know why I thought they would be heavy. I placed them back down mainly because I didn’t want to get pricked by any. Who knows what Illumi put on them.

I moved over to a bookcase in the corner of the room. I had picked up one of the books when I heard the door open. I turned to look at the intruder. “I thought you’d still be asleep,” said Illumi.

“It was a lot louder here than the basement,” I said while putting the book back in its place. “You didn’t tie me up.”

“I’ve been watching you all night. There was no need.”

“You didn’t do that before?”

“There was no need.” Illumi went over to the desk and picked up the leather book. He placed it high upon the bookshelf. So high that I couldn’t reach it even if I tried. “You’re looking through my things.”

“I am to be your wife.” The line came out more cynical than I anticipated. It was like the bite of a viper. “What’s mine is yours.”

“No.”

He moved toward the computer that sat on the opposite side of the room. I didn’t know if it was a sign of dismissal or retreat. I was getting sick and tired of answers that had no bearing on the situation. I’ve gotten no answers with any of my questions. Instead, I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole that I didn’t even know I was jumping into.

“Do you not want to talk to me? I ask.

“I am talking to you,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have a lot of work to do. I’ve been watching you all night so I am behind.” Illumi kept typing on the keyboard. I couldn’t pick out what he was typing so I started to walk across the room. I was going to get answers even if it killed me.

“You didn’t have to watch me all night. I was asleep.”

“You tried to kill yourself.” He finally turned to face me. “I can’t let that happen.”

“I wasn’t going to do that while sleeping. You could have done anything else.”

“No.”

My voice raised a little. “Always no with you. Why don’t you tell me anything? I am supposed to marry you. If I have to then I need some sort of communication. I can’t have friends because you took them from me. I can’t go outside. I’m stuck in the house hoping that you’ll be home. What am I to do if you don’t come home? Hope Kalluto comes to check up on me.”

The anger in my voice finally got to me. I didn’t realize I was yelling at him until I was. My anger was stirring deep inside so that I got so close to him that I could slap him or do something.

“You could have left while I was gone,” he said.

“-And you would have caught me and brought me back here.”

“Yes. Because you wouldn’t survive the escape out of here. You couldn’t open the front gates.”

“Good. Then I’d be away from you.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Yes.” I could even tell my voice was wavering. Did I really want to leave? Did I want to die by hunger or being eaten on my way to leave? Would I want a bounty on my head if I were to escape?

Illumi refused to look back at what he was doing. Instead he stared so intently at me that I couldn’t distinguish if it was anger or resentment. “Why?”

“Because you kidnapped-”

“No. Why did I choose you?” I could finally feel the anger. It was boiling over like a pot. This was the first time I actually saw him uncomposed.

It took a moment for him to collect his thoughts. I realized that we were face to face or as close as we could be. The only sound in the room was heavy breathing of anger between us. I decided to break the silence with “why did you choose me?”

I knew my question would throw him off. If he was finally emotionally not in control then I could finally ask. I was his equal and not under him. It was the perfect time. Again, the sound of silence took over the room.

“Your passion,” He finally said. “I should have waited longer but you were wrapped up with a bunch of people that you did not know fully. I knew their plans, and I knew you’d go away.”

“Plans?”

“There’s a lot about the world that you have no clue of their capabilities. You went about your life blissfully unaware of the real world around you.”

“Why’d you take me then?” I ask.

Illumi sighed deeply. “Because you weren’t paying attention. People will do anything including spiking a drink of an unsuspecting girl who's too busy dancing with her friends.”

That night! I can’t remember anything from that night. I was dancing with my friends and then I woke up in the terror room. I thought Illumi must’ve done something to my drink or we got into a fight. I thought it was all Illumi’s doing. What if I thought wrong?

“The chains?”

“You wouldn’t survive if you ran. I had to keep you here. Plus you are mine and it's going to stay that way.”

I went back to sit at the bed so I could collect my thoughts. If Illumi wasn’t behind all of this, then why am I so angry. He’s possessive and distant but that’s because of his household, not because he wants to be. He actually saved me from something that could’ve been much worse.

“W-why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I asked.

“I didn’t have to tell you.” It was his catchphrase when it came to me. He didn’t have to tell me but it would’ve been nice to know. Years and years of keeping secrets and anger held in most likely lead him to this thought.

For the first time, I smiled at him. “Thank you,” I said quietly.

“I do have to go soon. Kalluto is out. I won’t be back until later. If you need anything, call for the Butlers. They will guide you anywhere you need to go.” Illumi finished his work on the computer and went over to the desk. “I should be out for a few days.”

“Where will you be?” I ask knowing I might not get an answer.

“York New,” he said while gathering up a few more items he was going to bring on his trip. “I’ll stop you at your apartment to bring you a few more things.”

I nod my head. For some reason, Illumi leaving this time felt more lonely. While the other times, I wanted someone to talk to. This time, I wanted him to stay. We’d finally had a good conversation and he had to leave. I could feel my heart racing as he walked out the door. I couldn’t figure out the feeling. Maybe it was praise for him or worry that he might not return. I couldn’t harp onto these emotions as Illumi was already gone. I couldn’t even tell him goodbye.

I stood up again and went back to the bookshelf. There must be more information on Illumi or the family. I picked up another book and started reading.

Next Chapter

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Full Masterlist

#illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck #not hxh #hunterxhunter #A Hunter's Prey #chapter 8

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timelordthirteen · 4 years ago

Text

Killing Time 23/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle and Weaver get a big break in the case, but find it tempered by the mountain of missing pieces.

Notes: For my August Writer's Month prompt: We’re all a little stronger than we think we are. I've barely read this over before posting, sorry for all the typos.

[AO3]

We’re all a little stronger than we think we are.

Dr. Hopper’s parting words replayed in Belle’s mind as she walked the three blocks back to her office.

The last few days had been lighter than any since her work on the Branson case had begun. A weight had been lifted by her confession to both Archie and Ian, and the therapy session which she was just leaving had only added to it. Today, their topics focused on ways she could relax and control any future panic attacks, which she assumed she would probably need no matter how much she wanted to tell herself otherwise.

The weekend had been quiet and comfortable. She and Weaver had worked some on Saturday, but admittedly they were distracted by movies on TV and each other. Sunday, they’d gone for a walk in a nearby park, and by the time they got back to the apartment, she was ready to tear his jeans off. Smiling, she pulled a lock of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She was quite certain that the only other time she’d had more sex in a forty-eight hour period was when they’d been on their honeymoon.

He hadn’t said anything about the miscarriage after Friday night, and she hadn’t either. She wasn’t sure what he was feeling or thinking about it, or if he was at all. Several times she’d almost brought it up, but always hesitated when the moment came, afraid to shatter the cocoon of safety and happiness they’d created for one weekend. She was determined to talk it over with Dr. Hopper next week, before she dared to breach the subject with Weaver. Archie would know the best way to go about it, and he would help her get her mind straight beforehand, as he had many times when she was practicing her closing argument for an important case.

Monday had brought no news from Nevada, but this morning she’d gotten a call from Clark County letting her know to expect something by no later than Wednesday. It put an extra spring in her step as she pushed the revolving door to the city building that housed the District Attorney’s office. Her cell phone chirped in her coat pocket, and she pressed the elevator button before pulling it out. An notification lit up on the screen, an email to her official account, but the lift was already moving and her signal went out as it began the slow climb to the sixth floor.

Belle shoved her phone back in her pocket and stepped off the elevator, wanting to wait until she was with Weaver before she read the email, just in case it was good news. Her lips parted as she rounded the corner and saw his outline through the frosted glass of her office. He was seated at the conference table, leaning back, as far as she could tell, and a naughty idea on how they might celebrate this possible good news flashed across her mind.

Weaver turned as she opened the office door, and smiled. “Go well?”

She nodded and walked over to her desk. “Pretty good.”

“Good.”

Then she held up her phone and grinned. “I have an email.”

“Just one? I’ll alert the media,” he deadpanned, pushing back from the conference table.

Belle rolled her eyes and dropped her purse in her bottom drawer before kicking off her walking flats and wiggling her feet back into her work heels. “From the Clark County Clerk.”

Weaver stood, his mouth curving crookedly. “Say that five times fast.”

“You’re the worst.”

He laughed as she pulled out her chair. “And yet you love me.”

She huffed and pushed up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Allegedly.”

He made a soft ‘oh’ sound and slipped an arm around her, pulling her flush against him. “I have a fair bit of evidence from this weekend that says otherwise.”

Belle bit her lip and smiled as he dipped his head and kissed her neck. “None of which is admissible in court.”

Weaver’s nose nudged at her ear as he chuckled and whispered, “You’re the only judge I care about convincing anyway.”

Giggling, she shoved his chest until he stepped back, and then shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. Now, can I check my email?”

He gave her a sly look, but motioned towards her computer. Her stomach flipped as she sat down and opened the lid of her laptop, hoping that what they would find wouldn’t kill the delightful buzzing anticipation between them. It seemed to take twice as long for her email to open and the new message to appear, and she started tapping her foot impatiently while Weaver’s hand squeezed the back of her chair. She clicked on the message, opening it in a full window so they could both read it.

They exchanged a look, and Belle scooted forward, saving the attached documents to the folder for the case. There were three in all, a scanned image of Molly Macreedy’s foster care agreement, and two exported PDFs from the Nevada DMV database containing the records for her foster parents. The image had been pasted into the email and stated her foster parents’ surname as Tremaine. Belle opened the DMV records for each parent, putting them side by side on the screen before she sat back in her chair.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Weaver said, breathless.

“No wonder we couldn’t find anything on Eloise Gardener,” Belle said. “She never existed.”

“Eloise Tremaine,” Weaver began, sticking the DMV photo up on the whiteboard next to a picture from Eloise Gardener’s autopsy. “Former foster parent to our first victim, Molly Macreedy, aka Baby Jane number 3-2-5. She was left at a fire station in North Las Vegas, estimated to be about three weeks old at the time.”

Detective Rogers shook his head and put up the DMV photo of Robert Tremaine on the other side of the board before turning to face Captain Graham Humbert, Belle, and DA Midas. “Robert Tremaine, real estate developer from Henderson, married Eloise Smith in 1993. They had no kids of their own, but had at least fifteen foster children, that we know of.”

“We’re still waiting on all the records from Nevada,” Belle added.

“Robert died in March of 2013,” Weaver continued, leaning against the wall of bookshelves in Belle’s office. “No particulars on that just yet, but shortly after that any paper trail on his wife goes cold.”

“What about his estate?” Graham asked, frowning.

Weaver shrugged. “Real estate records show the sale of the house was handled by an attorney. That’s all we have on that so far.”

Midas leaned forward on the table. “Tremaine’s business, anything about that? Real estate development in Vegas was pretty lucrative at that time.”

“And fairly shady.” Rogers’ eyebrows lifted. “We’re looking into possible organized crime connections with that, but that’s a whole can of worms unrelated to our serial murders.”

Graham flipped through the small packet of papers Belle had compiled thus far. “What was Eloise doing in Seattle?”

“We don’t know,” Weaver answered. “If there is a link to the mob with her husband’s business, it would stand to reason that she’d want to get away from Vegas, but Seattle doesn’t seem far enough to run from that kind of thing.”

“But,” Belle interjected. “It doesn’t explain how Jack and Nick Branson knew about the history between Molly and Eloise, or why they were killed.”

“So...you have adoption records and foster parents for one victim, from another state, and not much else.” Graham looked around at the group and dropped the papers back on the table.

“Hey, we -”

“Now wait -”

Weaver and Rogers start defending themselves at the exact same moment, but stopped when Midas stood up.

“Captain Humbert is right,” Midas said. “It’s interesting background, and it’s a possible lead to - something - but it’s not helping us build a case against the Bransons, and this office -.”

“Nick Branson worked construction in Las Vegas,” Belle interrupted. “Maybe that’s the connection. Maybe it’s through Robert Tremaine’s business that he - I don’t know - came into some contact with Eloise.”

Midas frowned and looked at Graham a moment before fixing Belle with a hard stare. “Follow it up, but don’t waste time on goose chases and rabbit holes. The murders were here in Seattle, not in Las Vegas. We’re not even sure Eloise was murdered by the Bransons -”

Belle attempted to interrupt him again, but his glare quieted her immediately. “You’ve shown me no definitive proof that she was. Meanwhile, we have five victims that we do know they killed, and a trial for them starting in two months. I’d like to avoid that kind of public spectacle if at all possible and get these two psychopaths to take a deal on those five murders.”

The tension in the room made Belle uncomfortable and her eyes darted to meet Weavers’ before shifting back to her boss.

“Am I clear, ADA French?”

She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, detectives,” Midas said, nodding to Rogers and Weaver. “Captain Graham.”

Midas strode out of the office, and everyone left in the room collectively sagged in defeat. The air of excitement that Belle and Weaver had maintained for the last thirty-six hours at the news of Eloise Gardener’s real identity fizzled to nothing as Belle laid her head down on the conference table.

Weaver shot a look at Graham. “What the hell crawled up his arse?”

Graham sighed and ran a hand over his face. “The mayor,” he said, counting on his fingers as he spoke, “the city council, Alderman Samedi, Victoria Belfrey…”

“Belfrey?” Belle said, lifting her head. “What the hell does she care?”

“Apparently she had a deal with Samedi to build cost controlled housing on that vacant lot,” Graham explained. “The whole thing is in limbo now because the lot is a crime scene and hasn’t been released, and we can’t do that until we move forward on Eloise Gardener’s, or Tremaine’s, or - whoever the hell she is’s - murder.”

“So no pressure then,” Rogers muttered flatly, snapping the cap on one of the dry erase markers.

Belle pushed back from the conference table and stood up. “Okay,” she said, holding up both of her hands, palms outward. “We need a new plan. Rogers, figure out where the hell Eloise was living in Seattle. Hopefully having her actual last name will yield more results, but there could be something under her husband’s name, or his company. Ian and I will focus on the other victims, and see if any more of them are also adopted, or were in foster care.”

Then she turned to Graham and gave him a sickly sweet smile, that hand him rolling his head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Captain Humbert, if you could please reach out to your federal law enforcement contacts, and see if there’s even a whiff of organized crime around Robert Tremaine, that would be most especially helpful.”

Graham let out a snorting laugh, and gave Belle a salute with two fingers before he gathered up his things. “Yes, ma’am.”

Plans made, and men dispersed, Belle was left alone in her office. She sat down on the sofa, head in her hands, and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly between her lips. Archie’s voice was once again in her head, and for a long moment she let herself focus on it, trying to block out the irritated voice of her boss and the nagging on in her head that set her anxiety up to an eleven.

Feeling calmer, Belle looked up, her eyes staring straight ahead at the white board with pictures of Robert and Eloise Tremaine hanging side by side. She pushed to her feet and walked towards her, her vision narrowing to the image of Eloise, with that awkward expression so common with driver’s license photos.

“Why were you in Seattle, Eloise?” she asked no one. “What were you running from?”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #my woven beauty fic #killing time #lindsay's august writer's month 2020 #fic

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disasterghaster-moved · 4 years ago

Text

SEPTEMBER 26th - 2013 - 3AM

PART 1 ] [ PART 2 ] [ PART 3 ]

News died down and people calmed down. Slipped under the radar like so much background noise about bombings in far off countries. I could imagine it to be like how you get used to bullets reporting off the sand and brick and hot earth after it goes on for days and weeks and years.

Tsunamis you never drown in, riots you only see as rushing masses on the screen, earthquakes you can’t comprehend, cancelled flights you’ll never be on, borders closed that you never intended to cross, and hospitals creaking under the pressure of illness that’d been packing them for months. What was some spoiled wheat when you came from the land of agricultural plenty? Nevermind that end of season harvest was recent.

And, anyway, I still had bills and to pay those I had to keep working. Natural disasters notwithstanding.

Thankfully, night shift usually meant I could relax. The current site I was working at was a warehouse facility. Took big trucks in and out all day, but shut down around the time I rolled in. Mostly I did patrols by car or foot. Since it was only what a proper northerner considers ‘chilly’ for my last patrol, I decided to walk.

All I was really looking for inside the warehouse was fires or leaks. Outside was more about checking out the parked trailers along the outer fence line. Making sure the plastic seals weren’t broken. That people weren’t climbing the fence to steal anything.

I honestly didn't expect any trouble. I heard more from the day shift about fist fights over boxes from the workers in the building than I did actual attempts at theft.

Hell, mostly I ran into lone coyotes. Or a racoon. They’re all kinda cute if you keep a distance. Sometimes I’d purposely only look at the stray rabbit from an eye corner and keep moving. They were just there for the choice, crisp, grass on this side of the fence.

Somewhere in the back, I found a hole in the fence line. Low to the ground and mostly under the fence where dirt had been dug up. Not super uncommon. Looked like an animal had dug it up. Another lone coyote lookin’ for one of those rabbits, probably. I sighed out a puff of condensed air and tucked my flashlight under my arm with the cone of light pointing at the breach.

Phone came out of my pocket and I took a flash lit photo. Put that away and took out a bit of scrap paper and a pen I kept in one of my coat pockets. Scribbling the time, 0349, and the look of the hole. I’d have to document it and let the supervisor know in the morning to have it checked out.

It also meant I’d be walking this every half hour instead of every couple hours. Thankfully, I only had three more to go.

I paid some extra attention to the trailers nearby. Checking their seals were intact and making sure the tops of the doors were adequately locked still. Scoped out the area and thought all looked well enough to move on.

Mind you, there was some unease. Might be a coyote around after all. Normally I wouldn’t think much of that. Alone, they’re not really keen to scrap with a human. Most didn’t desperately dig through a fence, either.

Thankfully, I was allowed a taser with this company so I kept it in hand in my pocket. I just couldn’t shake the feeling on the back of my neck. Cold and prickly and not from the bite in the air. Left over combat instinct or plain, embarrassing, fear of the dark mixed with primal fear of wild animals? I resolved to walk with a longer stride and dipped down the figurative hallway between two trailers. There was more light to see by coming off the warehouse at the other side as opposed to along the perimeter fence.

I nearly tripped when I came out. Ahead of me, in the dark place between trailers still in their docks, was something. Low and crouched. With two eyeballs that gave off a sheen of an amber glow. Like a coyote.

Mmm, great. Maybe it had rabies. In which case, a taser wasn’t going to do it.

I avoided shining a light on it to keep it from attacking. Instead I pulled at my radio and turned the volume down before speaking into it, quite and calm,

“Candice, you got a copy?” Relieved when that alone didn’t cause the animal to stir. Beyond a slight shift and a low rumble. A growl that sounded...pained? I didn’t get an inch closer. Rabies or not, injury was even more liable to launch at me with intent to maul if I wasn’t mindful.

“Go ahead.” She responded. Unaware of my predicament.

“We’re gunna need to call Paul and the non-emergency number for the cops, I guess?” I paused, but held the button to keep the line. “There’s a cranky, possibly rabid, coyote back he--shit!” I let the button go, my voice cracking on a high pitch, as the animal came screaming out of the dark across the pavement toward me.

By the way? Not an animal! It turned out to be bipedal! PERSON! A person was streaking toward me with a howl of rage I hadn’t heard since the desert. The only thing that kept me from getting bum rushed straight down into the ground was that time in the war. Muscle memory and understanding of how bodies work allowing me to shift into mindlessly diverting all that failing momentum into the ground under me instead. Face first with me holding an arm and pressing a knee between shoulder blades of the squirming ball of bizarre fury under me. Pinned down.

They kept hollering, but I spoke to them at an even pace despite the adrenaline threatening to make me rattle too fast with my words. “Hey! Are you okay? You can’t just hulk out in the middle of private property. I am going to have to call the cops if you don’t calm down.”

That didn’t seem to work any better than telling me not to eat a fifth slice of pizza on a Tuesday morning.

I mumbled a cuss as I worked on adjusting my hold to free up a hand enough to respond to Candice calling me over the radio with increasing concern.

“Dro? Dro, you copy?”

“Yeah, co--” I paused to let the latest howl come and go. “Copy! We’re going to need the police. It’s some person--” Growled back when the next long winded scream came. “Some person on drugs I think?”

“Copy, you need backup?”

“Nah, you can’t leave the guardhouse. Just...tell ‘em to hurry. They’re not--” I didn’t bother to take my finger off the button for the next roar. “--not real happy about all this.”

“Copy.”

I sighed and buckled down on holding them down without hurting them. Drugged out or not, this person didn’t deserve to get their ribs or wrist inadvertently broken. Or to choke if my knee got jostled out of place from all the wild writhing they were doing. I started trying to talk them down when they started whining instead of roaring.

“Sorrysorrysorry.” They sounded to be openly weeping. “Hurts, I’m sorry!” Mashing their own face into the ground where I couldn’t see them. I grimaced.

“It’s fine.” Drugs are wild. I tried to be understanding. Hard and worked up as the both of us were. Wasn’t my first run in with an intoxicated trespasser. Get out of your mind and you don’t know where you are and shit that’s a big fucking lady throwing me, around time to FIGHT. “It’s alright, hey, it’s okay. Police are comin’. With some doctors, I’m su--”

Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say, they kicked back up into doing their damndest to trash free. My muscles were starting to burn by the time I heard the sirens rolling in close enough to hear. I was running out of breath to deal with this. They couldn’t get through the gate and around back to me fucking fast enough as far as I was concerned.

The police officer that came out of his cruiser looked the sort of troubled that my colonel had in his eyes right before he was expecting us to get blown away by an IED any second. The EMTs that came out of the ambulance were dressed to deal with something infectious. Like...face shields, multilayered plastic white clothing, and were on the person under my knee in seconds with a large syringe.

No one said anything to me as my perp went limp by the time the plunger on the shot fully depressed. I awkwardly got up and stepped away as they gave me the impression of mopping up an undesirable pile of barf. Packing themselves and their charge away into the back of their ambulance on a stretcher board before they took off.

The police officer barely even thanked me for my help and told me to have a good rest of my day before he left right behind them only to overtake them. Flipping on their lights to escort the emergency vehicle he accompanied.

Leaving me in confused and stunned silence as I caught my breath.

What?

The cop didn’t even try to get a statement. Or my name. Or even my number to ask me my statement later. I wasn’t even sure how I was going to write my report up and not sound like I didn’t do my job right without that interaction with the officer.

My brows knotted as I leaned into a brisk walk back for the guardhouse.

#tlouverse devang #nice #prt4

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kalxdesai · 4 years ago

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Confessions of a Broken Mind||Therapy Session

TW: Addiction, Substance Abuse, Death, Suicide, Lack of self-worth, Family Disownment, Medication, Language, Some smart-ass comments (it’s basically everything and the kitchen sink)

Ah therapy the one place where Danny felt like he could just BE and not be judged. His therapist, one Matthew Davis, had been in Danny's life for over a decade, the two had such a familiar relationship the older man could take simple cues from Danny and know what to discuss, what to drop and what to push. Today, like most days, he was dressed casual: a pair of relaxed black jeans, an Atlanta Falcon t-shirt, sneakers, glasses and as always a pen and notebook in his lap. While this clothing choice may have seemed unorthodox for other patient and doctor relationships, Danny and Matt had established by then clothing was not the high point of their meetings. Usually. "Did you wear that shirt just to piss me off?" Danny asked after a few minutes worth of silence.

A smile played on the other man's lips before a quiet chuckle left his mouth. "No, if I wanted to do that I would have worn an Eagles shirt. Or the Phillies. Or the Heat. Or the Penguins." He flashed Danny a charismatic smile, leaning back in the chair that faced the couch where Danny sat. Matthew had a Mel Gibson look-deep set piercing blue eyes, a mound of brown hair that tended to have a mind all it's own, a slim but firm upper-body, a clean shaven face that was pretty close to perfectly symmetrical. Danny rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his own smile as he looked at the man. There's roughly a minute or two of relaxation before the notebook is opened. "So, how are you?"

While this sentence alone may seem broad, Danny has the shorthand down. "Uh...life hasn't changed much since the last time I saw you. Sleep is still for shit, but it's been that way for so long I can't remember what REM sleep is. Everyone is doing as well as can be..." He let out a breath of air and shrugged. "Sorry, Martin Riggs I am not" he said and gave a tentative chuckle before he looked down at the carpet. "Was there something specific you wanted to ask me? Or something specific you wanted to know?" It had been one thing back when Danny had first fallen down the rabbit hole of addiction but now with the help and support system he was determined to stay clean. He had too much to lose.

Matt's eyes were scanning the notebook, the pen twirling in his fingers. This suited Danny just fine, it was one of many reasons he preferred being the last patient of the day and Matt was more than willing to accommodate, he was either the one patient for the day or the last one. Anything else put him on edge. But now they could be relaxed with most of the day behind them they could take their time and be as at ease as they could. "It's been nearly two months since you lost your father. How has that been?" Danny raised an eyebrow but waited a minute as he reached in his pockets, feeling the chips in his fingers, his own touchstone to the real world as the one he was in could often distort and contort the realities of life.

"My parents...Being raised by them was kind of like being raised by terminators, their actions were dictated by a gain and loss margin, everything they did was calculated and for a specific reason. If they had a checklist it went like this: meet, check, courtship, check, marriage, check, offspring, check, take over the world" he finished and laughed again, brushing some hair out of his eyes. "I can't recall the word love being used, not by my parents, or my grandparents, or anyone else really, it was always fall in line, follow the rules, etc etc." He held the chips still firmly in his pocket, looking down for a minute before he finally looked up again. "She didn't even look at me, not at the funeral, not at the will reading, not a glance, not a single acknowledgment, I mean, I'm not surprised given our history but it's unfathomable to me that someone could be so cold. And for that matter if you aren't raised to love, knowing what it is, how do you learn to love? How do you love, period?"

A silence passed for a few minutes before Matt looked up from the notebook. "You had love-your brothers, all your friendships. May have not seemed like a lot at the time but it was love in it's own form. In a perfect world, all kids would be born to parents that loved them unconditionally and they would come at a time when life was just right for their appearance. But as we know life is far from perfect so stories like you and worse are fairly, sadly common. As for how someone can love if they are not raised with it, well, you may have not been raised by caring parents but it didn't stop you from growing up into a person that cares, the circumstances that you are born into do not have to dictate your own life." He stopped again, his head tilted as he thought for a minute. "You managed at least four relationships, unless the internet lied to me so despite what you weren't raised with you manage to love, no thanks to your parents and that is all you. Tell me about it."

Danny blew out a sigh and nodded. "Well, aside from some juvenile crushes when I was a kid, nothing really serious back home. I came to Cali and was too busy to considered dating, not that that was a real possibility or anything. In this business if you don't look like Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise, good luck, you have to take whatever is given and fight tooth and nail for a role you really want. Girls too man, I wasn't like those other idiots running around with hundred dollar bills in my back pockets, throwing them at anything and everything, no, like the song says mo money, mo problems. Anyways, Odessa was my first serious everything, well, first everything really...Pathetic...Here I am all these years later still gone. It was your typical teen love at first and well...Then it wasn't. Parenthood is hard enough for adults but for teens that are far from ready? A whole other beast. It didn't matter what our relationship status was though we had the same goal and that was raising our son the best way we could. Uh...my first relationship after that came when Wyatt was about two or so, I was completely upfront about my past, never hid it but in the end she was uncomfortable that I was always going to be in my son and his mom's life so that ended after about five, six months." Danny stopped for a minute to catch his breath. "One-night stands were few and far between with me, between work, Wyatt, staying clean, I was busy, well, that and I didn't like the way I felt in the morning. My next relationship was about a year and a half, um, she didn't care that I had a kid and an ex, not the way my first ex did, um, it was a nice relationship overall but at some point we realized we were better as friends. Weird when that happens after sex but hey" he said and shrugged. "And then came the most serious one, it lasted for three and a half years. It wasn't perfect, of course, nothing is, but it was really special. I mean clearly it was, it's not like I propose to just anyone. But she ended it and that was that. And then Odessa and I fell back into our old ways, had Heather, Brock and well...stay tuned is all I can say for now."

Another lapse of silence, Matt wrote in the notebook, Danny stood and stretched, the drive alone had been long enough and then to resort back to sitting was a bit of a pain. Sitting back down, Danny faced the other man. The dance was nearly over, it was a similar one each time he came, it may have varied on and off depending on circumstances but mostly it followed a simple pattern. Once more Matt was carefully turning the words in his head before he spoke. "Hollywood is a hard business, for some, impossible, and yet, you keep on logging your hours and taking whatever jobs you can. Why?" Now it was Danny's turn to sit and think, turning his words before he answered.

"Like I already said and this shouldn't surprise you or anyone for that matter: Whorewood, excuse me, Hollywood, is for the beautiful ones, or the wealthy ones that can buy their way into their business or worse the ones who are only famous because mommy and daddy are famous." He scoffed and shook his head. "My whole life I have felt like an outsider, like I didn't belong anywhere. But when I discovered acting, it was like a door to a new world had opened and I wasn't the shy, awkward, and just plain stupid Danny. I was anybody I wanted to be other than me. And that was incredible. I love it, I live for acting so while it might not be the easiest career opportunity, because if it was, let's face it, everyone would do it. I'm an underdog and that's okay, it just means I have to try harder, work harder. It's also why I root for the underdog teams" he said and shrugged once.

Matt nodded once before speaking. "You are far from a loser, Danny. Addiction is a monster that has ravaged countless people, it's destroyed lives, families, claimed lives, the numbers are staggering. And yet for every person lost, there is always someone who survives and thrives. You are one of those people, Danny, everyday that you are clean and sober and staying on the right path proves just how wrong you are when you say such disparaging remarks about yourself. Everyone in the world is a little broken, not everyone shows it and not everyone admits it but no one is truly happy or sane or normal. And that's fine, it's called being human and the one thing that we as humans can do is be the best version of ourself we can be. If you can look at yourself in the mirror at night and be content with the face staring back, then keep up whatever you are doing, and if you don't like the face staring back, sit and think and change what you don't like. Your life, whether you know it or not, means a lot to people, it may not be a lot of people, but there are people in your life that love you, care about you and want the best for you. Keep fighting and staying alive for them."

Danny whistled. "Woah Nelly I'm not sure what I said that made you think you had to like talk me off a ledge but I'm fine, at least in that respect. I take my meds, see you, my sponsor is on speed dial, if I get myself into a bad situation, I get myself out of it. Believe me I know that people are dependent on me, it's one of many reasons I keep going. One day at a time, that's all I can do, just take life one day at a time. I'm not trying for much here, I just...Want to be happy, that's all. But I guess if happiness came easily you would be out of a job" he added which made them both chuckle. Standing, Danny once more stretched and dug his keys out. "Same time, same place?"

Matt nodded and finished writing out the script, handing it to Danny as he too stood. "I upped your dosage-you may be okay with not sleeping but I have an issue so let's try and fix that." Danny shrugged and put the paper in his pocket, facing him again. "And yes I an a Falcon's fan-and a Brave's fan, and a Hawk's fan but my personal favorite team, if I had to pick one-Atlantix oh yes my personal favorite team." His face is impossible to read before he breaks into a grin and laugh, Danny flipping him the bird but chuckling with him as he heads out into the afternoon.

#confessions of a broken mind #tw substance abuse #tw addiction #tw suicice #tw death #tw medication #tw family disownment #tw language #tw therapy

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 5 years ago

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What I Need

Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: Something I just wanted to write. Also fills a square for @spnfluffbingo2019

Square Filled: Cuddling

WC: 2K

Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks, floof

Summary: Separated by distance, Dean and his girl are both struggling with how to make it work without losing their respective minds.

She waited, for what felt like hours. The anxiety that was triggered in her nerves was maddening, but she knew that she had to be patient. There was no worse feeling in the world than waiting for Dean to return from a hunt… well… except maybe waiting for him to call when she knew he would be out and about, blowing off steam with Sam at a bar in whatever dingy town they were staying in.

Those nights were almost harder than the hunts themselves. Getting a call that he had been hurt was one thing… knowing he didn’t call because there was another woman in his bed, was a whole different story. This night, was a mix of both and it was when she started to question whether or not she could really do this with him. Long-distance was hard enough, but long-distance with a hunter who had a penchant for pretty blondes was something else entirely.

She had to trust him. She had to have enough patience, trust and love in her heart to believe that he would always come home to her, even when it was easier not too. That was the promise they had made when it all first started. But that was almost six months ago, and in that time, she had more than her fair share of nights where the anxiety and the fear of losing him became overwhelming and she acted out, self-sabotaging everything she wanted and didn’t realize she had. But that was how this disorder went, and for as much as she loved him, her brain would always believe that he loved her just as much.

She wanted to stop doubting and stop worrying that anytime he was silent, that she was losing him. Deep down she knew that would be the one thing--other than him falling victim to some monster--that would be how she did end up losing him.

Sitting around wasn’t helping her anxiety, either. There had to be something she could do to break the patterns of the disorder that plagued her. Calling him to check in wasn’t enough, she felt the need to take action, do something to prove to him that she could just sit and wait, but why should she? She thought if she could find ways to make him understand just how much she loved him, reassure him that his efforts weren’t in vain, maybe it would help her, too.

Dean looked around the bar and realized there wasn’t a clock in sight. His phone’s battery lost its life earlier, so he couldn’t even check that. With technology being what it was, there wasn’t even a working payphone nearby that he could call and check in with her. Dean, normally calm and clear-headed, began to feel that tick of anxiousness in the back of his neck and absently rubbed a hand there trying to make it stop.

‘If I don’t call soon, she’s going to think I’m fucking someone else… or dead... actually think the first one would be worse,’ he thought, as his eyes scanned the room searching for his little brother, so he could go and take his phone.

No Sam insight, which means he took a girl back to their shared room, or he was with a girl in the back seat of the Impala. Either way, Dean growled in frustration and felt that nagging feeling begin to grow. He needed to call her. He needed to make sure she knew that he was safe and very lonely, sitting at the bar, nursing a whiskey and thinking of only getting back to her.

That was something new for him; that feeling of needing to keep her reassured. Everyone had hang-ups, right? That’s what he told himself. Hers just happened to be an overwhelming fear of being left behind because she wasn’t good enough to keep around or just not enough in general. Not like she didn’t have reason to feel that way, but Dean decided it was on him to help waylay those fears because she WAS worth it. She was worth every damn second he could give her.

Slapping down a twenty on the bar, Dean threw back the remainder of his whiskey and abruptly left the building. The cool night air smacked him in the face, sending any remnants of the liquor’s effects packing. He was completely sober and aching to feel his girl beside him.

It only took a moment for him to locate the Impala in the bar’s parking lot, which was blessedly empty. The motel was only across the street, so Sam could have easily walked over with that petite brunette he had been chatting up. Dean didn’t really care either way, but it was ingrained in him to watch out for his little brother. He had to remind himself that Sam was a big boy and could take care of himself. His girl, however, needed him; and maybe, he needed her a little, too.

He got in and started the engine, about to pull away and realized just how long it would take to actually get to her. She was more than a thousand miles away, and it would take two days, at least, before he’d be able to see her again. His heartfelt heavy with the recognition of it; his eyes tired and weighted with tears he refused to let fall. Exhaling with a growl, Dean put the Impala in drive and turned towards the motel instead of the freeway, just praying that he’d be able to charge his phone quick enough to call her and that Sam wasn’t there in the middle of … something.

The room was dark and empty, to which Dean sighed with gratitude. He dug into his duffle bag to retrieve the charger and found an open plug beside his bed. He waited a few minutes for the phone to take some charge before he powered it up and dialed her number. Straight to voicemail. His heart sank. The only time her phone went straight to voicemail was when she was deep down in the rabbit hole of self-doubt; completely convinced that he stopped loving her and had abandoned her for someone else.

“Fuck!” he barked and dialed again with the same results. Angry that he hadn’t been able to call or text, earlier, he tried to calm himself and think rationally. He knew all of her fears and did his best to help her deal with them, but sometimes things were out of his control. He hated that she was most likely home, crying, thinking all sorts of wrong thoughts about where he really was, or what he was really doing. Sometimes, it made the relationship feel hard and he knew it would be far easier to just walk away… But the way he loved her didn’t allow that to be possible. The truth was, he was just as scared of losing her because, in all his life, no one had loved him the way she did; certainly, no one made him feel as good, as she made him feel.

This time he dialed Sam, wanting to know where his brother was because he had every intention of jumping back in the Impala and driving in her direction; sleep be damned.

Sam’s went straight to voicemail, too. No matter how much he wanted to pick up and leave the state, without having at least talked to Sam, he couldn’t. So instead, he kept dialing them both, alternating between numbers for the next hour or so until sleep finally claimed his weary mind.

Hours later, Dean’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of the hotel room door opening. He had been perfectly sober when he fell asleep, so why did his head feel as if he had polished off that bottle of whiskey? He attempted to open his eyes, but the light that came in through the front door made that impossible. Figuring Sam was coming in after a night of tantric sex with the brunette from the bar, Dean exhaled with a low rumble and crossed his arms over his chest, burrowing back into his pillow and trying desperately to get back to the dream he was having.

He was nearly back there when he felt the weight of someone sitting on his bed. Concerned that Sam was hurt, he forced himself to lift his head and turn over, checking to make sure his little brother was alright.

“Sammy?” he rasped, his voice thick with sleep. “You alright? Tried calling--”

“Dean…”

It was her voice. But it couldn’t be, it was still a dream…

He sat up more and used his fist to dig the slumber from his face. When his eyes were able to open and adjust to the morning light that had filtered into the room, he saw her familiar form next to him on the bed and thought, for a moment, he was simply back in his dream after all.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” she said softly, and when she touched his arm he realized she wasn’t a dream… his girl was really right there beside him.

“What the--How did you--?!” Dean sat all the way up and felt his chest heave with relief that she was within arm’s reach.

“I needed you,” she replied softly and moved across the bed to be closer to him. “It was getting bad again… and it's not fair that you always have to make me feel better. So, I figured I would come to you. Because--”

“C’mere,” he said, cutting her off as he pulled her close.

Dean’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back to his chest. He spooned her closely as her arms covered his, gripping them tightly as she trailed kisses across his hands before tucking the tangled mess of their fingers into her chest.

“I tried to call…” he whispered, the warm of his breath causing her to close her eyes and feel relief coat her skin.

“I figured. I’m sorry I couldn’t wait, I just needed to be with you.”

“Baby, I couldn’t be happier to see you. I almost started driving last night… I--I needed you, too.”

“Dean... “ she paused and turned her head as much as she could to look back at him. “Can I stay? Go with you this time? I know its dangerous, and I promise not to get in the way. But being without you isn’t working for me… I need to--”

“Yes,” he replied simply, his one-word answer enough reassurance to pause her nervous ramblings. “Whatever you need, sweetheart. Besides, I don’t think I’d let you leave even if you wanted to.”

“Good.”

He felt a stray tear from her eye splash against his arm and found room to hold her even tighter. He wanted her, he always did and this night was no different. But as they lay together in the growing morning light, all Dean wanted to do was hold her to make up for all the nights he hadn’t been able to. His eyes closed, and both of their breathing slowed and found a syncing rhythm with the other.

“Wait… where the hell is Sam? He never came home…” he said suddenly, opening his eyes again and feeling a slight bit of panic at the realization that Sam was MIA.

“Sam’s fine. He’s the one who picked me up from the airport,” she admitted and bit her lip nervously. “I called him when I couldn’t get a hold of you last night. Told him I needed to see you and wanted to surprise you.”

“So that’s where he disappeared to,” Dean snorted, “Remind me to kick his ass for that; damn kid had me worried when I came back and he wasn’t here. Where is he now?”

“In the room next door. Said he had some business to attend to with a cute brunette,” she said and rolled over out of Dean’s embrace so she could face him.

“Well, maybe I’ll say thanks, instead,” he smiled lazily and brushed his thumb against her cheek before sitting up a little to gently kiss her lips.

She simply smiled and nodded, “I think that’s a better idea. Besides, I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight for a while, so let Sam have his fun and we can just lay here if that’s okay. I missed you… more than I thought it was possible to miss a person.”

That nagging ache at the back of his neck was gone and quickly replaced by a lump of feeling that caught in his throat when she looked at him. He loved her in a way that words couldn’t always express and the fact that she came to him when he felt like he needed her most, was the kind of gesture he didn’t realize he craved in return. What they had was real, and it was worth fighting for. It drove him to want to continue to do whatever it took to make sure she knew how much he loved and wanted her.

“I missed you, too,” he rasped, knowing words weren’t his strong suit. It was enough for her body to relax against his as Dean exhaled with a weighted relief once she tucked herself snugly back into his embrace, and they let exhaustion carry them both away.

Everything Tags: @coffeebooksandfandom // @sorenmarie87 // @yallgotkik // @thefaithfulwriter // @sister-winchesters99 // @thymeheals

SPN Tags: @wings-of-a-raven // @negans-wife // @kazosa // @deans-baby-momma // @hobby27 // @breereadsthings // @maddiepants // @screechingartisancashbailiff // @winchesterxfamilybusiness // @cloverhighfive // @spnhollis // @unlikelygalaxyiver // @linki-locks11// @stoneyggirl // @clarinette07 // @lefthologramdeer // @closetspngirl // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @akshi8278 // @rebelminxy // @fictionalabyss // @blackcherrywhiskey // @his-paradox

Dean Tags: @teaspoin // @adoptdontshoppets // @whiskeyandapplepie

#spnfluffbingo2019 #Dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader insert #cuddling #comfort fic #tw: anxiety

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mikeoliveri · 5 years ago

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Your “Good Ol’ Days”are Bullshit

I keep seeing these “good ol’ days” posts on Facebook, and it’s driving me nuts. So let’s break this shit down:

I am from Central Illinois ,when I was 10 yrs old the area code was (309) for every phone number.

What’s the point of these “only one area code” comments? That the poster is too fucking stupid to remember their friends’ phone numbers, or that they have no friends outside of their shitty little town?

We wore clothes our parents bought us .You thought your parents were rich if you went to JC Penney's.Shopping at K-Mart for a blue light special while eating the popcorn and drinking a Cherry Icee, and maybe stopping in the KMart cafeteria for a meal and an apple dumpling.

First, apparently back in your day, they didn’t teach you how the space bar worked. Second, I have no idea if this is supposed to be a shot at rich kids or if it’s bemoaning bankrupt stores.

Eating ice cream was the treat on a hot day.

Do you really think it’s not anymore? Or are we taking a shot at millennials and iced coffee?

Riding anywhere in the car with no seat belts on, riding in the back of a pick up truck and drive in movies, the popcorn in a brown paper bag with so much butter on it you could see it seeping through.

Yes, because it’s stupid to give a shit about safety and your health. Ever consider there’s a reason highway fatalities have dropped significantly since then? And you can still get popcorn with that much butter, dumbfuck, but why not just save yourself some time and have them fill a soda cup? Pop a straw in it and drink up without the mess.

25 cents got you 25 pieces of penny candy

Where to start. Maybe we developed a taste for something besides a congealed lump of sugar? Also, a part-time job got you a car and a college education. How deep into this “siddown, boomer” rabbit hole do we want to go?

You took your school clothes off as soon as you got home and put on your play clothes.

Let’s not pretend everyone can afford two sets of clothes per day, mkay? And if my generation is the product of your generation, I never had separate school clothes and play clothes, either. How is that our fault?

We had to do our homework before being allowed outside to play.

You don’t get to make this complaint and complain that kids never go outside anymore (below). Furthermore, I’ve been working in education for 20 years now. The percentage of students not getting their homework done (and the percentage of parents who just don’t give a shit about their kids’ homework) has been a constant.

We ate dinner at the table as a family.

I can point to a lot of families who would love this opportunity, but when both parents have to work, kids are being thrust into six different activities, and student athletes are desperate for scholarships to be able to afford school, it gets a little difficult.

And even then we’re only talking the families who can afford it.

We walked to school. There was no taking or picking you up in the car lol!

Yeah? Which generation started the helicopter parenting? Here’s a mirror to help you figure it out.

TVs didn’t have remotes, we had to actually get up to change the channel.

I guess this is a positive because it helped you walk off the calories from the popcorn butter and penny candy?

We played Mother May I, Hopscotch, Cowboys and Indians, Cops and Robbers, 1,2,3 Not It, Red Light Green Light, Red Rover, Hide & Seek, Truth or Dare, Tag, Baseball, 4 square, Kick Ball, Dodge Ball, rode bikes, played flashlight tag, spent the night outside in sleeping bags on the front lawn!

No, you’re right, kids have never heard of these games. They go out to recess and just stare at each other. At the park, they sit and watch grass grow.

Girls could spend hours roller skating in the driveway, playing Barbies or house.

*sigh* Let’s just agree you’re a sexist fuckwit and move on.

Boys and girls played football in the yard , or shot baskets. Staying in the house was a punishment, the only thing we knew about "bored", "You better find something to do before I find it for you!"

Have you not driven through a neighborhood in the last fifty years? Or do you just not see them because you’ve called the cops on them for playing basketball too loudly, too late at night, or both? (Has happened twice in my town within the last year.)

We ate what mom/dad made for dinner or we ate nothing at all.

I’m going to say this is one more example of a boomer seeing one parent allegedly spoiling a kid and assuming all modern parents spoil their kids. Do all boomers think this way? No, but it’s definitely a trend I see in my parents’ generation and many of the grandparents who visit the school. They see some crazy-ass story about something stupid one parent or school administrator has done, and they assume it’s a universal truth about all parents and schools.

It’s also possible you were just a shitty cook.

There was no bottled water; we drank from the tap or the water hose (hot).

Now we know there’s lead in our pipes, and we’ve actually read the list of contaminants in the local drinking water. There are also people who can set their hose water on fucking fire thanks to fracking. Shut. The. FUCK. Up.

We watched cartoons on Saturday mornings,

My kids can watch their TV shows whenever they want, and I wish I had the same capability when I was a kid rather than having to schedule my free time around advertisers’ wishes.

Also, their TV shows are more than just thinly-veiled advertisements for toys. Their shows have both better writing and better production values, and my kids can pick and choose the shows they like rather than just what happens to be on.

and rode our bikes for hours without a cell phone.We weren't AFRAID OF ANYTHING.

But you sure as shit made us afraid of everything because, again, you assumed the scary story the TV man told you about a kidnapper in California meant any one of your neighbors could snatch us off the street at any moment. You had zero knowledge of statistics and demographics, much less about the relationship between the two. In my town, it’s your generation who is afraid to go into the two nearest cities because you saw a black man’s mug shot on TV.

If someone had a fight, that's what it was and we were friends again a week later, if not SOONER.

It’s also your generation that screamed bloody murder when your kid got in a fight at school, and you demanded the other kid be suspended because your kid is harmless and was minding his own business.

We played til dark, sunset was our curfew.

Now it’s our kids’ curfew, too. Not because it’s dark, but because you call the fucking cops when you hear kids playing outside past your bedtime.

School was mandatory

HAA! Yes, because truancy laws are totally not a thing anymore.

and teachers and police were people who you could TRUST and respect.

Despite what Fox News would have you believe, they still are. There absolutely are neighborhoods, schools, and police departments where you can’t trust the teachers or the cops. We have plenty of examples of police murdering, abusing, or raping citizens. We have plenty of examples of teachers abusing children, physically and sexually. In many cases, we have this shit on camera.

The difference between our generation and yours is we understand what we see on TV or on Facebook is not a universal truth. We want criminal cops held accountable, but we support law enforcement as a whole. We’re totally okay with abusive (or incompetent) teachers being removed from the job, but we also understand tenure is an important incentive for schools to retain teachers long term (especially given the current situation for teachers in the great state of Illinois).

We watched our MOUTHS around our elders because ALL of our Aunties, Uncles, Grandpas and Grandmas were also our PARENTS (they COULD & WOULD WHOOP Y'ALL!,) and you didn't want them telling your PARENTS if you misbehaved.These were the good ole days.

And there were no long-term consequence for any of this physical abuse ever.

Kids today will never know how it feels to be a real kid. I loved my childhood...!!!Kids these days will never understand how we grew up!!!

There are a lot of differences between my kids’ childhood and my own, and you know what? I’m okay with it. I’m actually interested in their points of view. They have a much broader view of the world than I was ever given, and as a whole, this generation is far more tolerant, open, and empathetic than my generation was--or was allowed to be--at their age.

Take your “good old days” bullshit and shove it up your ass. Maybe if you made an effort to connect with your grandkids rather than shouting at them, you’d actually learn something.

#good old days #golden years #boomer bullshit #boomers #okay boomer #sit down boomer

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discomfort-food · 5 years ago

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Terrifying, Beautiful, Maddening (A Hegeleth fic) 4/?

Read on AO3

Jeralt, famed Blade Breaker, former Captain of the Knights of Seiros, and captain of the Silver Wolves mercenary company, has held many titles throughout his many years. But there is only one that would make him stop midway through a battle briefing with his company lieutenants and, most importantly, set down his morning coffee.

“Dad!”

His men are confused at first as to why he stops mid-sentence, but it is made clear to them after following his gaze and spotting the familiar head of dark hair running full-tilt through the mercenary camp. Barely eight years old, the small girl is sure-footed and possesses an almost uncanny amount of grace, deftly leaping over piles of firewood and darting between unaware soldiers, causing them to stumble to stay on their feet.

“Dad!” She repeats again upon reaching him, skidding to a sharp halt, not short of breath in the slightest despite her dash across the camp.

“What is it, kiddo?” His voice is cheerful, but inwardly he is more than a bit alarmed at the uncharacteristic exclamation of his name not once, but twice.

She looks up at him, clenching and unclenching her fists as she takes a moment to find the words. “In… In the woods.” She turns slightly and points behind her.

“What’s in the woods?” He says patiently, encouraging his daughter to elaborate. If Byleth had been like most children, he would have told her to wait until his meeting was over, but Byleth was not like most children. It would not be uncommon for her to go the whole day without talking, and when she did decide to speak it was never more than the minimum necessary to get her point across.

“A fox. It’s hurt.” She clutches the edge of her tunic and only now does he notice the blood on her hand.

He sighs. “Looks like you’re hurt too, kiddo.” She looks at her hand and then back at him, nodding blankly. He turns back to his men. “Okay, boys, I think we’re about done here anyway. Vilja, Edran, make sure all the horses and wagons are inspected and ready to set out tomorrow. Caius, take a few men and scout the forest ahead, report back to me this evening.”

Saluting, his lieutenants disband. Jeralt swigs the last of his coffee in a single lukewarm gulp and pats Byleth on the shoulder. “Let’s get that hand looked at, and then we’ll go see what we can do about this fox, all right?” Byleth nods and follows her father to the medical tent.

Once her hand is cleaned and bandaged up, Byleth leads her father out of the mercenary camp and into the thick pine forest surrounding it. They travel in silence for a good ten minutes, the girl occasionally glancing behind her to ensure Jeralt is keeping up. He feels a small pang of parental guilt for letting his child wander so far unsupervised, but in truth she is far more capable of spending the day alone in the woods than many grown adults he has met. To this day she has never gotten lost, and is always sure to return before sundown. She is also quite proficient with the small dagger on her hip, although he has told her only to use it in self-defense as a last resort.

They slow as they approach an outcropping of moss-covered rocks in a relatively clear area of the forest. Byleth stops a few paces away from it and points towards where two rocks have fallen against each other, forming a small cave less than two feet high. The dried pine needles carpeting the ground have been scraped aside in front of the cave, exposing the dirt beneath, as if something has been thrashing about.

“It was caught by the wire, but it went in there when I tried to free it.”

“And I suppose that’s when it decided to take a nip out of you, then?”

Byleth nods and rubs at her bandaged hand. Jeralt steps closer to the rocks and spies a thin wire tied to a nearby sapling, pulled taut and leading into the small cave. “Did you set this?”

“I thought it was a rabbit den. Caius showed me how.”

“What he should have taught you is to be more careful when dealing with animals that can fight back,” Jeralt says, making a mental note to have a discussion with Caius about appropriate lessons to teach his daughter. He crouches down and peers into the cave. He can just make out the huddled form of the fox, ears pressed backward and mouth opened in a stressed pant.

Byleth kneels down on the ground next to him to get a better view.

“Now, reaching a hand in there is just asking to receive another bite, so we’re going to have to get it to come out on its own. I want you to untie the wire at the other end so it has some slack, all right?” Byleth nods and complies.

With a little time and a long stick, they manage to lure the fox out of its hole so Jeralt can grab it by the scruff of the neck and loosen the snare that had been pulled tight enough to draw blood. Once the snarling animal is free, he releases it, and they watch it bound away into the trees. He looks over at his daughter and sees her brow is furrowed in thought.

He plops down onto the soft pine needles and pats the space next to him for her to sit down. “What’s on your mind, kid?”

She picks up a twig and snaps it in half, the pieces falling to the forest floor. “Why did it bite me? I was just trying to help it.”

He chuckles and ruffles her messy hair. “I know you were, kid. But it was just scared of you and trying to protect itself. They can’t talk, so they have to use teeth and claws. Even a rabbit can give a nasty bite to someone who isn’t paying attention.” Byleth’s blue eyes grew wide. “An animal is most dangerous when it is cornered and feels like it has nowhere to go. So I want you to be careful in the future, all right?”

Byleth nods, understanding written on her face.

Jeralt smiles and stands, holding his hand out to help her up. “What do you say we head on back to camp?”

---

Byleth was about a day’s trek from Garreg Mach monastery by her estimation. Despite the proximity to the school, the valley she was in was rather isolated, with steep mountain peaks surrounding it, and would cause difficulty for any large group to traverse quickly and unnoticed.

The day was cool and heavy with the threat of more rain after the morning’s showers. The trees were gilded orange and gold, and the sound of water falling from the canopy through the glistening leaves kept her company as she meandered along the slow-moving river at the base of the mountains. As she followed it she noted that there would likely be plenty of fish to catch here.

There was no need for haste this day. Her quarry had made no pretense of hiding her tracks the night before, and a clear path of snapped saplings and branches made for an easy trail to follow. The two of them had fallen into a sort of pattern; Byleth would make progress during the daylight hours, and the other seemed only willing to travel at night, taking shelter in a cave when possible or finding some sort of resting place during the day. Today though, that cycle would break.

Around midday the path wandered away from the river’s edge and into the dense forest. Byleth noted marks on several trees, where bark had been raked off by sharp claws, but they were not fresh. A bear, most likely. A bear that would likely not reside much longer in this valley if it still did at all.

Soon, the trail led her to what she hoped she would find: a cave. Framed by crawling tree roots and moss, the entrance was a good size, perhaps three times her height, rather narrow, but from what she could tell from a safe distance, it opened up further inside.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Byleth took a step forward to get a better look, but her foot found a branch that had been obscured by the carpet of fallen leaves with an echoing snap. She froze, hoping her transgression had not been noticed.

One second, two seconds. Byleth was about to let out the breath she held caged, when a low, rumbling growl echoed out of the cave. Slowly, she put her hand on the blade at her waist, and waited for any signs of movement. Nothing. Not willing to test her luck further, Byleth retreated back the way she came until the river was in faint earshot again.

The trees thinned near the river, and Byleth found a suitable location to set up camp: flat, and a stony ledge on one side providing shelter from wind. The river was shallow here, and provided an ample number of smooth rocks to build a low wall for a campfire, though she did not light it yet. Lamenting the fact she had no pole or line to fish, she made do with a simple meal of mushrooms and berries she had collected earlier that morning.

For the rest of the day, Byleth meditated. Letting thoughts, worries, hopes wash in and out of her mind like the moon-drenched tide, she sat cross-legged and still. She steeled her mind for what she might have to do that night if things did not play out as she expected. While it was true she always had the option of using the power gifted to her by Sothis if things went awry, as she had found with the death of Jeralt, some events in time were fated to be fixed. Her gut told her whatever way tonight went, that’s what the universe wanted to happen, and who was she to stop it?

Her face grew warm as she felt the rain clouds leave to be replaced by the afternoon sun. It was nice here. Her mind briefly flitted to the idea of not going back to the monastery, but- no. Too many people were counting on her, trusting her to provide leadership. She couldn’t do that to Seteth, to Dimitri. They had probably already grown concerned at her absence. Seteth, bless him, would be organizing search parties within the next month if she did not return. Still, the thought of going back to being a simple mercenary was comforting, and it entertained her until sundown.

Alas, the brief moment of warmth was soon to flee, and as the late autumn chill reached through Byleth’s cloak, she rose to gather firewood for the night. There was no need to build a towering blaze like she had done on previous nights, she was close enough to be found easily. She built just enough of a fire to keep her comfortably warm, and settled down to wait.

The rose gold of sunset faded into dusk, and dusk gave way to a moonless night. Byleth gazed up to the stars, tracing the constellations her father had pointed out to her as a child. She wondered what he would think of her now, if he would approve of her choices. She hoped he would, and rubbed the scar on her hand where a scared fox had bitten her so long ago.

Several hours passed. The shadows of the forest closed in around her as her fire dimmed, the flames growing lazy and small. She was contemplating throwing another log on the pile when a gust of cool air fanned the flames for her, releasing a cascade of glowing sparks up into the heavens.

As rapidly as it had blazed, the fire receded again, and as Byleth’s eyes dropped from the stars above, she found the pitch black shadow of the treeline against the stars above to have gained a new, familiar shape. It would easily be mistaken for another tree if not for the pair of glowing red eyes staring down at her.

“Hello, Edelgard.”

The eyes drew back slightly, as if the mention of her name had caused her to flinch.

A rattling breath, and after a moment, a voice rusted from months of disuse replied. “So. You have finally grown tired of toying with me. Are you here to finally put an end to my sordid existence?”

“No.”

“Then why ? Why must you torture me so? I am haunted day and night by you.”

Byleth sighed. “I… I don’t fully know why I’m here. Just that I have to be.” Words had never been easy for her, but for once they came tumbling out in earnest. “Things shouldn’t have turned out this way. I’m sorry, Edelgard. I’m sorry that you felt you had no other choice than to become-”

“Become what? A hideous monster that children scream in terror at? A wretched beast that nature herself doesn’t wish to exist?” She spat her words out, the growling tone underneath growing deeper. “Now, I suppose, my exterior matches my interior.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Edelgard.”

“No? Well, then you are a greater fool than I believed you to be, professor, ” the last word said in a mocking tone.

“No. You almost killed that girl, didn’t you? I know you didn’t want to do that. There is still human in you yet.”

She heard the sharp crack as a branch snapped. “You know nothing about me anymore.” Her voice was low, strained with frustration.

Byleth was silent a moment. “I know that I want to help you, Edelgard. I’m not sure how, but I want to try.”

The red eyes across the fire bored into her soul. “Leave. Me. Alone.” Each word was a threatening rumble.

Byleth continued, unphased. “If you stay here, I can protect you. This valley is isolated, and the Knights of Seiros won’t find you, I’ll make sure of it.”

The infernal crimson eyes disappeared and for a moment Byleth thought she had left in disgust, but a dry, creaking sound grew steadily louder and she realized it was wry laughter.

“Where else can I go? You have made it clear to me I am thoroughly and sorely beaten. Very well. I will stay, a feral beast caught in your pen. But be warned: like your dear prince said, the Edelgard you once knew is long gone. Who knows how long I will be able to hang on to the faint memory of her?” She stepped forward just far enough that the light from the fire could illuminate the faint outline of her face. Despite the bitter anger in her words, Byleth could just make out dark trails, slick with moisture at the corners of her eyes.

“I will stay, you have my word. But don’t come back.”

As silently as she had appeared, the shadow melted back into the forest, and Byleth was alone once again.

#fire emblem #edeleth #fe3h #3h #three houses #edelgard #byleth #hegeleth #fanfic #fic #au

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crimsonblackrose · 5 years ago

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Around the end of November Nathalie hosted her last Thanksgiving dinner. Since that usually means a full house and it coincided with another friend’s birthday I decided to stay in Seoul again. While trying to figure out where to eat Friday night I saw that on Kakao map there was a BTS symbol and looked it up. Turns out I was down the street from the House of BTS pop up shop and figured I’d give it a try.

BTS or 방탄소년단 is a Korean pop band that’s been performing since 2013 and has reached international fame. They’re well known across the globe. At my old school my students would come running into my classroom as soon as they could because I’d let them pick things to watch on Youtube before class started. I saw whatever the newest BTS music video was along with many many dance practice videos. I didn’t always hear them particularly well over the screams and fan chants my students did while dancing along. Because my students were obsessed I didn’t feel comfortable jumping down the same rabbit hole, and instead just casually enjoyed their music when the kids requested it or someone played it, and watched their American talk show interviews so I could share them with my students if it was appropriate.

But a couple of my friends are Army. (The term for the fans.) I figured since I was in Seoul during the House of BTS pop-up and the holidays were coming up as well as some milestone birthdays and because I’m a curious blogger, I headed over after having dinner and doing some errands. The group chat for Nathalie’s Thanksgiving festivities had suddenly sparked into how dressed up everyone was going to be and I didn’t have anything dressy packed. Gangnam has a pretty nice selection of stores including an underground market so I planned to search till I found something. I ended up finding a sweater I liked pretty quickly. (Okay, I also went to a couple bookstores, yes I have a problem. But I only bought one book, and it was the one book I was looking for so I think it’s okay. It’s on the TBR bookcase.)

So essentially for a pop up open from 10am until 10pm I figured showing up around 8:30pm on a Friday night would be okay. I was wrong. Apparently they cut the line off between 6pm and 8pm depending on the day. So the whole thing was over, except for the few people still outside waiting in line at 8:30pm. So I hiked back down the hill and to my hotel, trying to figure out when a good time to try again would be. Turns out that was Sunday morning.

My original plan was to show up and queue at 9am. I figured if I was at least an hour early then I’d hopefully get in before noon. But my first night at the hotel I barely slept, and the second night I got back very late from Nathalie’s Thanksgiving party. I was the first one to leave the party but after a full day of birthday shenanigans on no sleep and then a very drunken Thanksgiving party where I was the only one sober meant it was time to go straight to bed. I didn’t want to have to get up early and wait in the cold on so little sleep so I set an alarm for 9:30.

Gotta get through my TBR, which means reading in the rain while in line.

I got up before my alarm, ate breakfast at the hotel and packed up all my stuff and left it at the front desk after check out. Then after taking one step outside and realizing it was pouring rain I immediately turned around and went back to the front desk to ask for my stuff again. Thankfully I had packed an umbrella, it was just at the bottom of my bag. Then I hiked back towards the pop up shop. On the way I noticed a long line spilling down the main road and felt a bit of panic. The pop up was halfway up the hill and if it was down the street already it was going to be an awful morning. Nope, turns out people were queued up for something else. But that didn’t mean I was let off easily. The line ended up being up the hill and around the corner. But it moved fairly fast because it wasn’t a line to get in per-say but actually a line to get a time to actually get into line. That line was about an hour and a half. It was like the Stranger Things Pop up where you only needed on person in line who’d type in their Korean phone number into a tablet and explain how many people were in their group and then go do something else until it was time to get back in line. It all worked through KakaoTalk. So if you plan to do any pop ups in Korea, having a Korean number (or a number that works in Korea) hooked up to KakaoTalk is a must.

Waiting in line #2, the line I got in for my timed entrance

I think it’s really a clever way to go about events with long lines. It keeps you from wasting your entire day in line. So after I got my number I was told to come back around 1. I went to a cafe nearby, got myself a peppermint tea and waited. Then went to lunch and towards the end of my meal my phone got a Kakao message saying to come back to the line. Thankfully I was only a block away so I hurried back up the hill to where I’d gotten my ticket and then got in the new line. In this line I had to show them my time/number receipt and keep it handy to show the staff at several different points before someone collected it at the entrance to the final line.

Line #3 outside the pop up (final line)

I was given a map of the pop up shop and a list of things they had for sale. I also got a very tiny pink pencil that said “House of BTS” and a pink snap bracelet that said the same. Then I waited in the rain with a bunch of other people until we were escorted down the hill to the main line in rows of two like school children. At which point we were in the real line. Despite the rain I tried to figure out the layout of the pop up and what I wanted to do.

Entrance to the pop up with the muffled sound of BTS music

There were 3 floors and a basement. We all started in the basement and when finished with the entire experience could exit via the first floor. The basement was only accessible for as long as we were in it. Once we left the basement we couldn’t return to it. It was also the merchandise display room. All the things they were selling for the day were on display with a giant wall of different music videos playing.

The map we were given was also a catalog and depending on what you wanted you marked the correct item and number. I wandered around looking at things trying to figure out good gifts and taking pictures. Eventually I picked a display case and using my tiny pink pencil marked the things I planned to buy and headed to the counter. At the counter a staffer in pink went over my order with me and told me the things on my list they were sold out of. I didn’t want to re-configure my list so I just got the things on it that they did have.

I was given a buzzer, the kind they have at restaurants, and went upstairs.

That panic when one of your buzzers goes off and you get in line and then the other buzzer goes off while you’re in the pick up line for the first buzzer. Help.

The first floor was item pick up, stamps for the House of BTS bingo, and the cafe. I thought with all the people there that it might take awhile for my stuff to come out so I popped over to the cafe to place an order. I was determined to play Bingo and get all the stamps. I love stamp relays and assumed it was something similar. It included making purchases as half the options. They had a couple of BTS themed drinks and thankfully included on the menu what was in them.

I went for Fake Love, a blackberry apple juice with a slice of dried apple. I paid, got another buzzer and then my first buzzer went off. So I turned around and got in the line for item pick up. While in line for item pick up my other buzzer went off that my drink was ready. I waved to the cafe lady an apology and she warned the guy who set my drink out that I was in line. It took a couple versions of pantomiming to get that, but eventually I got my gifts and was free from the line, just in time for the buzzer to go off again. I hurried around to the pick up part of the cafe while the new barista was looking around the crowd to find the owner of my poor lonely Fake Love drink. It was a mess. I had misread the first buzzer and thought it said that once I picked up my shopping that I had to leave. So I had assumed I needed to rush around and do everything I wanted before picking up my shopping. I also assumed with all the people there who were also presumably doing a lot more shopping then me, that it’d take a while. But after talking with the staff I was reassured there was no rush. I just couldn’t go downstairs and do more shopping. So I picked up my drink, took pictures and enjoyed.

There weren’t any seats, so I stood at a table sipping my drink. It was refreshing after being in line for so long, it was well after 2pm, and I really enjoyed the apple slice that I fished out. With shopping procured and a drink had, I headed to the stamp spot.

There was a chance for different prizes based on the amount of bingo’s you got. In order to secure bingo’s I had to show my receipts and follow the BTS merchandise twitter, which I had done while waiting in line to get in. For each thing of merch you buy you got one stamp. Since my list had gotten shrunken by things being sold out I had a grand total of three things. Which got me three stamps. My drink got me another as did following the twitter account, and lastly being there got me my bingo. Sadly being there or “attendance” was the other biggest part of the bingo card and you could only get one per day. There was no way I’d be able to come back another day to get anything beyond one bingo. They also made it so you couldn’t share the bingo card by writing your full name as shown on your passport or ID (In my case A.R.C: Alien Registration Card) and your date of birth on the card. Because I would’ve gifted it to someone else more determined then myself. But I did win a postcard.

After collecting my postcard I went up to the second floor which was a spot for photos. They had cartoon chibi versions of the members of the band, with the bases signed for people to pose and take pictures with. There was also a bus stop with writing all over it that people were trying to get pictures with on their own but the crowding kept drawing the staff over to tell people they couldn’t do that. There was also some colorful streamers and a spot to take a picture that was suppose to go with their music video “Idol”. Actually most sections were meant to go with specific music videos, since they were playing each specific song on loop somewhere near each section. It was really interesting and definitely a fun space for taking pictures, just a bit too crowded to do it easily.

Then I got in line for the third floor. The line was very long, spilling down the stairs, and it moved very slowly up. For me, it was a huge waste of my time. The line slowly curled around one room with some merch and a full cardboard cut out of the band sitting down. The idea was it was for a cute photo with the band, but there was no way to easily leave or figure out what the line was for until you were next to go into the room. Meaning, I’m pretty sure, I was the fastest moving person for that room. I took a couple pictures while the girls in front of me took pictures, then I took one more picture, then left.

And that was it. That was the entirety of the House of BTS. As a more casual listener of BTS it wasn’t as exciting. Getting some Christmas/birthday shopping done is exciting, but the amount of time I waited to essentially go shopping was…questionable. The rest of it is an intagramable space but without the ability to allow you to enjoy it as an intagramable space. It was a bit too crowded. Though with BTS’s popularity that shouldn’t be surprising and I should probably be grateful I managed to get in and through as quickly as I did.

I am however a sucker for a good bingo/stamp relay, but because there weren’t actual missions or places or events for me to get stamps and the only way to get them was to come back which meant I was ultimately disappointed.

A pop up generally means something that is short lived and that closes after a couple weeks or a month. However I’m not sure if that’s the case with the BTS pop up since it also seems to function as a BTS merch store where the items and some of the designs rotate out. If you’re planning to be in Korea and are curious if it’s happening I suggest checking out the twitter they had me follow. It’s mostly in Korean but will link to the proper Facebook posts which tend to have English translations and more details. Apparently it was only suppose to be up for a short period of time and closed in January, but check that twitter to see if it’s still up, or has reopened. There are also ones suppose to be opening in other countries.

The House of BTS Around the end of November Nathalie hosted her last Thanksgiving dinner. Since that usually means a full house and it coincided with another friend's birthday I decided to stay in Seoul again.

#bts #bts pop up shop #방탄소년단 #gangnam #house of bts #kpop locations #seoul #shopping #south korea #things to do in gangnam #travel

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sirro85-blog · 6 years ago

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Humans are Weird: Mental Health

Trigger Warning, probably.

Kizidan watched as the humans danced, the music was like nothing she had heard before it was pleasant but she had not joined in, it appeared you needed to know the steps and most of the dances had names. She watched as Major Kovac spun Captain Becca in his arms, her feet lifting off the floor, the dance ended with the couple close to her, Kovac kissed Becca and held her face between his hands, "ahh lass, you're my joy" he said softly before leading her from the floor. Diminutive when compared to most human's Kizidan felt especially small around the Major and his Captain the Major stood close to 2m tall and while the Captain was a head shorter she was still taller than most of her gender and a sizeable number of the male soldiers.

Kovac stroked Becca's neck and bent to kiss her before walking away, Becca watched him for a few moments and then turned to Kizidan and smiled, "enjoying it?"

"Very much, I've never seen a celidh before...I've never seen Kovac smile so much either."

Becca grinned, a disturbing trait of humans, "Don't let Kovac hear you call it a ceilidh, he'll give you a lecture, " she put on an accent similar to Kovac' "it's no a ceilidh, naebdys singin' it's a dance." She turned to look at him as he collected drinks, then she drained her own, "whatever it is, he is happier, it's a hard time of year for him it's nice to see him smiling."

"Why is the time of year difficult? To my knowledge you do not hibernate, nor are you seasonal breeders." Kizidan extended her crest in confusion.

"No, not the season...it's an anniversary of sorts, I probably shouldn't say but as it's the worst kept secret on board: Kovac lost a wife and son when he was younger, it was a transport accident, he was deployed his first ever posting, she was at home with the 6 month old and...Very sad, now he's...well he's never been a cheerful person but now...well he's in a serious job so I can't tell if he's permanently low level depressed or if he's just a proper grim bastard."

"Depressed...he's In a lower position? He's the highest ranking officer amongst your human unit, I don't understand."

"Oh god, look it's a mental health condition, or a mental ill-health condition, I'm not sober enough to explain ask me tomorrow Kids," Becca looked over to see Kovac approaching, "I'll get him to dance with you, he'll teach you the steps."

The following morning Kizidan found Becca exiting the gym, she was with Frank one of the older medics who gave Kizidan a nod and left for the medical wing.

"Morning Kids, how are you doing?"

"I'm well Captain, thank you for asking, I was hoping you could explain more of what you said last night, I did some reading on the subject of 'mental ill-health in humans' it seems a chemical imbalance in the brain can cause a variety of problems in humans, all of which would be terminal in Forell such as myself."

"I'll be honest Kids you've already explained about as much as I know," Becca replied, "I'm not sure I can be much help."

"No, I've spoken with the SMO and I have an understanding of the medical issues, I wanted you to build on idea of Kovac's health being caused by a single event. In what i read it is often a longer term cause."

"Fuck Kids, you're asking big questions here, look Kovac was an orphan and grew up inn the kind of poverty someone like me can't imagine, maybe he was always unhappy and that event tipped him over the edge, I don't know, I met him at the military academy and he was a grim bastard there but he was fucking sunshine compared to now," she sighed, "I don't really get it, if you want to learn more go for it but, in my experience the books don't match up with my own experiences."

"You are familiar with mental-ill-health?" Kizidan asked.

Becca shifted her feet, "i need some protein, let's get to scoff."

10 minutes later Becca was chewing some dried meat and Kizidan started her questioning again, "you implied you had first hand knowledge of mental ill health."

"Well, yeah, I mean the reason I'm a rank below the Major is I spent a year in bed wishing I was dead but too numb to do anything," Becca covered her face with her hands, "I met a guy, my perfect hero, we got pregnant, I nearly carried to term and in the final few weeks I had a problem the baby died and I had a still birth, I nearly died and when I was better my perfect hero was gone, left me to it." Her voice took on a monotone, detached quality, "I took it hard, it brought up a lot of rejection shit from my parents, 'why don't people want me, why do all men hurt me?' you're vulnerable to this stuff when your father is abusive and your mother blames you for it...Well we're down the rabbit hole now, I'd survived the stuff my father did to me, I'd put myself back together and made a life and that life had tried to kill me and I broke, I mean if I could have got out of bed I'd have ended it but even that was too much effort and besides I couldn't imagine putting others to the trouble of cleaning me away, I didn't think people would care but they'd have to dispose of the corpse and I wasn't worth that, eventually I felt a bit better and as days went past I managed to move and then exercise...now, it's still hurts but I'm 5 years healthy and provided I can maintain a healthy diet and exercise I seem to manage good mental health." Becca peeled a banana and broke it into pieces, she carefully spread almond butter onto thin slices of apple and sandwiched the banana between two apple slices, she popped this into her mouth, then started again on another.

"One shrink I saw told me I had ptsd another severe fugue state...something, but the first one diagnoses everyone with ptsd and the other guy is convinced that Kovac has anxiety and I've never seen the Major so much as look concerned let alone get anxious, guy's chill is legendary, personally I think I had severe depression, but I guess I was catatonic so who knows"

"PTSD?"

"Post Stress disorder, no, traumatic stress post, bloody hell, Post traumatic stress disorder, basically an event happens and you have issues resolving how you feel about it and that means it's hard to recall it without reliving it."

"It's a memory issue?"

"No, not really it's like you don't just remember it, you relive it, with all the terror and fear and the horror of the experience. I know Pants suffered with it, she saw some of her old unit go down in an ambush, she woke up screaming a few times when she first got to us, I know Wolf helped her a lot, I'm not sure how."

"It sounds as though your mental stability is a fragile thing." Kizidan observed.

"Well people are different, some poor bastards are born with problems, some develop issues for one reason or the other, trauma physical or otherwise can cause problems, they don't always cause these problems...Kovac has taken 6 rifle rounds to the chest, his body armour caught most but some got through, he lost a rib as a result, he's died on the table after a haemothorax, that was when he was shot another time. Yet he's still a combat soldier, he's remarkably sanguine about his injuries, we can all break we don't all break the same way or for the same reasons and we don't all mend the same way."

Kizidan gave a trill of disbelief, "You humans have this reputation of invincibility and invulnerability in the galaxy, yet you make yourselves sound so fragile."

"We are fragile, that's the problem we can break, horribly so but we are also durable so we survive the breaking and then, well then we have to learn how to survive with all our damage. That's our real strength, our ability to endure, to just keep going."

#humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #space australia #space orcs #earth is space australia #earth is weird #earth is awesome #earth is a deathworld

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smoochcal · 6 years ago

Text

numb without you (part six)

a/n: we got 20 notes on part 5!!! a little reminder that I would really like to get at least 20 notes on the previous part before I post the next one, so please tell your friends about this series :) I just wanted to take some time to thank each and every one of you for supporting my writing. if you have any suggestions on how you want this series to go, please let me know!! this series has quickly become my baby and I am very proud of it. also, a big giant thank you to el for helping me with the little details of this series and for inspiring me to be soft on a daily basis about both luke and calum. I have so much love for you it’s kind of ridiculous. (read part five here)

pairing: readerxluke

word count: 1.8 k

playlist: numb without you by the maine, risky business by the cab

summary: you get morning sickness for the first time and don’t want to bother Luke with it

warnings: swearing, mentions of puking, slight jealousy

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Y/N’s POV:

Can it even be called morning sickness if you are dry heaving over your toilet at 11pm?

I mean it is a possibility that this is just the aftermath of you eating too much ice cream, but you really doubt it. Especially because your doctor was surprised that you had not experienced any morning sickness yet. Of course, this had to happen right after you were left alone though. You always hated being sick and if right now is any indication of how the rest of this pregnancy is going to go, you better be prepared for a lot of sickness. The waves of nausea are still hitting you pretty hard, but you go into the kitchen to see if you have any ginger ale or sprite or saltine crackers to calm your stomach. That’s what always helped when you were little at least.

After five minutes of frantically looking for food in between the waves of nausea that made you hover over your sink more often than not you decide that you do not have anything that could help you in your current situation. You sigh at the thought that is making its way to the front of your mind as you pick up your phone. You don’t want to call Luke since he was just here, and you really don’t have many other options of people that can help you. But you definitely need someone to get you some ginger ale as soon as possible if you want to make it to work in the morning. You scroll through your contacts and your thumb hovers over the person who you inevitably have to turn to.

Calum.

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Calum’s POV:

11:55 PM

That’s the time my clock reads when you were rudely woken up by someone calling. The minute you finally open my eyes and see who is calling, you answer right away feeling bad for even thinking negatively about the situation.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” you mutter quickly, worried that something bad has happened since you left her earlier today.

“Calum, calm down. I’m okay, the baby is okay…just…fuck can you go to the store and bring me some ginger ale? I’ve been puking for the past hour or I would get it myself…and I would ask Luke, but he recently left and-” Y/N starts but you cut her off.

“I’ll be there in twenty…hang in there,” you say before quickly hanging up and putting on your shoes.

You guess this is only the beginning to your late-night rendezvouses with Y/N, which forms a pit in your stomach worried about the future.

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Y/N’s POV:

Literally in twenty minutes flat Calum was at your door step with two bags from the nearby grocery store. You could not be more thankful for him at a time like this. You stop violently retching your guts up about five minutes ago which you were rather pleased about considering you did not want Calum to see you like that…not like he won’t see you at your worst throughout this pregnancy, but today was not that day.

He brought you a two liter of ginger ale, your favorite kind to be exact, and some crackers and other various snacks for when you were feeling a little bit more yourself. You were so thankful that he was able to bring you what you needed, but you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you asked him instead of Luke. In any other circumstance you would’ve asked Luke over Calum but you felt weird asking Luke to come back so soon after he had just left. He’s still your best friend but you don’t want to put all the “father of the baby” type responsibilities on him when Calum is the father and Luke isn’t.

You’re sure this isn’t going to be the only time that you feel this way. It just sucks because you were so close to Luke before this and you don’t want a baby to ruin your relationship with your best friend. God, why couldn’t you have just made your move in Luke instead of Calum. What were you thinking?

Before you could dive deeper into this self pity rabbit hole you were digging yourself, Calum grabs your attention.

“Is there anything else that I can get you before I go home? It’s getting kinda late and I know we both have work in the morning…” he says, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“No no I’m good…thank you again for everything. Sorry that I woke you up…” you respond, feeling bad that you had been so inconsiderate of his time.

You walked him to the front door, thanking him about seven more times for helping you out. He asks you to keep him updated on anything else that happens. Especially the nausea which makes you laugh. And just like that you are alone again. You pour yourself a glass of ginger ale and decide it would probably be best if you got ready for bed considering it was already 12:00 and you had to be up for work at 7:00. You take a sip of your drink, already feeling better and lay down hoping that sleep comes easily tonight. Before you know it, you were out like a light.

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~The Next Day~

Luke’s POV:

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe she chose Calum over you. Okay, maybe that is just you being a little dramatic. But she really called Calum last night instead of me? What happened to my best friend who would call me if she needed a bug killed in her apartment? Shouldn’t this be the same thing?

You’re sure she has a reasonable explanation for why she chose him, so you really shouldn’t worry about it. It was just a one-time thing, or that’s what you keep telling yourself. You know you shouldn’t let your emotions get the best of you; jealousy doesn’t look good on you anyway. But the longer you think about it, the more these negative emotions fester inside of you.

You decide to text her.

To: Y/N

From: Luke

Guess Calum is better at midnight runs than me?

You know you shouldn’t have sent that message as soon as you see the “read” sign underneath it.

Shit.

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Y/N’s POV:

Oh, you have GOT to be shitting me. He really is pulling this shit right now. When my evening “morning” sickness is in full swing? You really are angry with Luke. Like really really freaking angry. Is he being serious right now? You know your anger can get the best of you and that is definitely what is happening right now. You pick up your phone and dial his number.

“We are not playing whatever this jealousy followed by guilt thing is. If you want to talk come over to mine. And don’t you dare mention anything about the smell of vomit,” you state blatantly, hanging up the phone before he has the opportunity to respond.

Within ten minutes Luke is at your door letting himself in with the key you gave him in case of emergencies, which he determined this was. He found you sitting on the floor of your bathroom, your hair matted down on your forehead and a cup of water sitting next to you. He sits down next to you, rubbing your back and handing you the ginger ale he picked up for you on the way over.

“I’m sorry for being jealous…I’m just not used to someone else taking care of my best friend when she needs it the most,” Luke starts, looking down to avoid eye contact.

He helps you up off the floor and hands you your tooth brush to allow you to brush your teeth and attempt to get the nasty taste out of your mouth. He then goes into your room and grabs some new clothes for you to change into, assuming your other clothes are sweaty from the time spent puking. He found a shirt that used to belong to him and a pair of sweatpants for you to change into and left your room to give you some privacy. You didn’t even realize that he handed you the shirt that until recently belonged to him when you changed shirts. When you were finished getting changed you went into the living room where you found Luke sitting on your couch, his favorite blanket of yours already draped across his lap. You sit next to him and he shares the blanket with you, giving you a sheepish smile.

“I’m going to tell you something and you have to promise me that you won’t be mad about it, at least not at first,” you say, hoping that he will comply and not say anything to test your patience anymore.

“Okay, I’m listening,” he replied, allowing you to say everything you need to.

“Here goes nothing…recently I have had a lot of time to think and reflect on what I want to happen in the next couple months before the baby comes. I have given it a lot of thought and I don’t think there will be any romantic involvement between me and Calum. That being said, I still want him to be a part of the baby’s life and he will be around me and the baby from here on out. But you are still my best friend. I want you to be here as often as you want, but you have to understand that I don’t always want to bother you with little things like getting me ginger ale at odd hours of the night. You have to know that Calum is going to want to be as much a part of this pregnancy as you may want to be. He is always going to be the baby’s father and he will always be around now. He is your friend too so this should not be that big of a deal. You’re my best friend, Luke and you always will be. I just wanted you to know my headspace with all of this so I would have some peace of mind. So if you could please put your jealousy aside and just embrace the fact that your goddaughter or godson will be here in less than six months that would be very helpful,” you ramble, completely disregarding the fact that you just spilled the beans on asking Luke to be your baby’s godfather.

To be continued…

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