#id lose my hunter-gatherer mind

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

the Biggest flex in human history had to be when the first group showed up to a collaborative hunt w/ a pack of wolves

[deandoesthingstome]

Night Moves

Chapter 6

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Alexandra Pierce)

Series Summary: When Walter Marshall is called to investigate a homicide by the railroad tracks, he quickly uncovers an unsettling pattern. Alexandra Pierce just wants someone to find out what happened to her friend. She has some secrets, too. And Walter’s going to uncover them.

Word Count: 3286

Series Warnings: In general, this series will depict assault, murder, stripping, hooking, rough sex, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), p in v sex in various positions, self-loathing, failed relationships, smoking, alcohol, general violence, makeup sex, and maybe some comfort. +18, Minors DNI. Edit: If you were here before, know that I removed drug use and drug addiction. I had a plan and things changed, as they so often do.

Chapter Warnings: Morning pillow talk, minor self-loathing, mention of failed relationships, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), general police procedures, special guest!, more misogyny.

Disclaimers: I do not own Walter Marshall, Night Hunter (Nomis), or any other characters from that movie, but I do own this OFC (Alexandra Pierce) and these words. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header made by me, with pics found from Pexel.com and the internet. Dividers are not mine, but check out the masterlist for credit.

Playlist:  Night Moves Songs 20-22 Direct Spotify Link

Masterlist

Alex leans back against the kitchen counter and sips her coffee, watching Walter search the floor for the rest of his belongings. She knows exactly where the wallet landed because everything lost in her apartment always ends up in the same place, but she’s silently giggling as this grumpy bear of man crawls around her floor, huffing and grunting.

“Are you really just going to stand there and have a laugh while I slowly lose my mind?” he asks, head shifting back and forth over the same spots again. “I thought I tossed it over this way…Fuck.”

Alex wonders if he’ll need another shower after he gets all worked up again with frustration. 

It was nice this morning, waking in his arms, even if the hour was ungodly. His straying fingertips told her he was already awake, even though his eyes were closed when she lifted her head to peer over at him. 

“Morning,” he had grunted gently.

“Good morning,” she smiled back at him as he slowly opened his eyes. “At least I think we can call this hour ‘morning’.”

“Did I wake you?”

“I think having someone in my bed for the first time in several long months might have something to do with it,” she grinned and stretched a bit before settling back into his side. “Pattern changes. You too?”

“I tried to say last night, I don��t really sleep well. This was probably the longest in a while, and especially with the case.”

Alex felt a lead balloon drop and waited a few moments to gather her thoughts.

“Is this a problem?”

“This?”

“Us. Here. In my bed. Is it a problem for you? For the case?”

Walter closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, then reopened them to look at her.

“It could be,” he answered, with no additional elaboration. But when Alex tried to move away, he held her close in place. “It doesn’t have to be. We have your id of Trixie. If you can just leave the investigation to us…”

“I get it. Last night was stupid.” She felt him tense ever so slightly. “Well, not all of last night. Should we talk about that?”

“Did you enjoy it?” Walter asked, wondering if it was worth hoping for the answer he wants.

“I did, and you know I did, but that’s not what I meant by ‘talk about it.’ You said you needed someone to ‘conform to your will’ now and then. Is that something you don’t get often?”

Walter took a moment to look down at Alex, then shifted and urged her to sit up against the headboard next to him, so he could look at her on the same level.

“In the bedroom? Not usually.”

“Do you need it often?”

“More often than my ex-wife and other partners were usually willing to accept.”

“You were married,” Alex states matter-of-factly, with no judgment.

“Yeah. And I’m a father.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Daughter.”

“So, perfect for you, huh?”

Walter saw the hint of a tease twinkled in Alex’s eyes and made a decision right then and there. This woman was special and he didn’t want to let her go. Not anytime soon, that was for sure.

“Okay, yeah. It’s a challenge. Compartmentalizing what I do and who I am.”

“Maybe you need to stop.”

“Being a cop?”

“Compartmentalizing.”

Walter sat with it for a moment. Let her words sink in. There was no way she knew the kind of deplorable shit he’d seen during his time on the force. No way she would think it would be okay to talk about those things with a teenage daughter. Or son or wife or girlfriend, for that matter. 

“What is it you do again?” he asked, not really trying to change the subject.

“I teach a survey course on sociology at the university while I’m working on my PhD. Yes, you’re right. I’m not a psychologist or a psychiatrist. But I’ve taken plenty of courses and been through enough therapy myself to know you cannot hide who you are from the people you…, the people in your life and expect positive outcomes. That’s all I’m saying.”

Walter hummed in thought.

“Is that what did your marriage in?” When he looked at her with what seemed like shock, Alex tried to take it back. “I’m sorry, that was rude and completely none of my business.”

“No. I mean yes. Yes, rude and none of your business, but also…yeah, it probably was.” Probably what went wrong with every other relationship as well. Not that he hadn’t tried. Tried to be the dutiful husband, devoted boyfriend, normal guy with normal desires. And he could last long enough to make it seem like this one might work this time. And then he would come apart at the seams along with the relationships.

“Okay, well…” Alex wanted to mention that at least this relationship was getting off to a more honest start, but was this even going to be a relationship? Was this too soon to say something like that? She’d wanted to tell him he couldn’t hide from the people he loved, but that felt too close, too personal, too soon. And yet, it’s all she could think about. This man who had let himself into her life so easily.

“Alright look, bad timing because I should really probably get going…” Walter started.

“Oh, yeah, yes. Of course. Shower?” Alex offered.

She waited for his nod and peeled herself out of bed with the mention of a spare toothbrush and abundant hot water.

When he stepped in behind her, she was already wet and soapy so his hands slid easily around her waist as he pulled on her and turned her to him. 

“I don’t care about the toothbrush,” he admitted before stooping to catch her mouth with his and easing his tongue in beside hers. They kissed under the water for what felt like ages, or at least as long as it took for Walter to slide his hand between her legs and slip a few fingers inside her ever-warm pussy, reaching for her spot and finding it without trouble.

When she came, he swallowed her cry of pleasure but she caught him off guard when she sank to her knees and put her mouth on him again. He let a few “fucks” slip while he braced one hand against the shower wall and the other at the back of her head, waiting for the right moment to press a little harder, send her a little further down his length. The quick gag did the trick and he was coming down her throat with a growl.

Finally rinsed clean and towel dried, Alex wrapped herself in a short, lightweight robe and headed to the kitchen to make coffee while Walter fished his shirt off the bedroom floor and headed into the living room grasping the towel around his waist. He found his underwear, socks, boots, and jeans easily enough. And there was the spent condom, right on the rug where she’d told him to drop it. He grabbed a tissue from the box he now saw on the coffee table, picked up the rubber and brought it into the kitchen.

Alex was just pouring a cup and opened the cabinet below the sink, nodding for him to toss it in the can inside. He waved her off when she offered him a cup, grumbling about still missing his wallet. And here he was a few minutes later still searching for it.

Alex finally relents, sets her cup down and wanders into the living room. She stands at the far end of the sofa and toes her foot under the edge, dragging the wallet out and sliding it towards where he’s just turning back to her on his hands and knees.

“That’s not…I looked there like five times and that’s not even the direction I threw it. What the hell?” He stands and pockets the wallet, wondering if it would be too much to take advantage of the proximity to lean in for another morning kiss, knowing it could go nowhere. Too familiar?

“It’s the only black hole in my place. Everything winds up there one way or another,” she answers, noticing his pause. “Don’t ask me. I think the floor is warped.”

“You should warn your guests.”

“To be fair, most guests aren’t tossing their wallets to the floor with quite the level of abandon you were last night.”

Walter hums with appreciation at the memory. “Some other level of abandon, then?” He is just about to reach for her, pull her close and kiss her like he wants to when his phone rings in his pocket. He answers to hear Rachel on the other end asking him to make his way to the station as soon as possible. They had a lead.

“Fuck, I gotta get going. Can I call you later?”

“I’d really like that,” Alex admits.

“Good. And listen, no kidding. Stay away from this case from now on. No more trips to the tracks. I don’t suppose I can get you to stop working at the club, though, can I?” he questions. When she shakes her head slowly, he huffs. “At least take a cab home? Or call me when you’re off?”

“I cannot have a cop picking me up after shift. It’ll ruin any inroads I’ve made with these women. But I can step away for a few days. After I let them know what happened to Trixie.”

“How are you getting around? Have you gotten your car fixed?”

“In the last 24 hours? No,” she laughs, not unkindly. “Look, I understand and appreciate your concern. And I know what I did was dumb. I’ll see if I can borrow a neighbor’s car for the day, and I’ll cab it to campus until the repairs are done, okay?”

“Do you have a shop you normally go to?”

“I just take it wherever the tow truck is from.”

“Alright, look.” Walter texts her a name and number. “That’s my guy. Does excellent work and absolutely will not overcharge you, especially if you tell him I sent you.”

“Thanks,” she smiles and opens the front door, moving aside for Walter to step into the hall.

“Be safe, okay? Call me if you need anything,” Walter orders, just as Mrs. Travers is opening her door.

“Now what are you doing here? Is Alex in trouble again?”

Walter stares dumbfounded at Alex while she tries to stifle a giggle before letting her neighbor know everything is fine and no, she’s not in trouble. Not anymore.

“Alright, who’s that sitting at my desk?” Walter asks Rachel, who has met him at the precinct door.

“It’s Lila Buchannan,” Rachels announces, with a tone like he’s supposed to know who she is.

“Who?” Walter doesn’t recognize the name.

“Detective Jonas’ girlfriend?”

Walter takes a moment to process, but it’s still not clicking for him. “You said we had a lead?”

“She’s got some information.”

“Oh, from the ER, right. Another assault victim?” Walter asks, his head turned sideways toward Rachel.

“No. Look, you’re gonna wanna talk to her yourself. I’m not sure you’ll believe it coming from anyone else.” 

Rachel follows Walter to his desk, then suggests they all move to her office where they can talk behind closed doors. Lila picks up a brown paper shopping bag and holds it close to her chest as she follows Rachel, casting a worried glance back at Walter as she goes.

“Lila, is it?” Walter holds out his hand, but drops it just as quickly when she jerks herself and the bag back from him. “I’m Detective Walter Marshall, I understand you’re dating my partner, Mick. How’s his family holding up?”

“What?” Lila asks, confused and Walter has to hold in the exasperation, because if this timid mouse has a lead for him, he wants to hear it before he scares her off. Jonas must be out of town without her if she’s here alone to speak with someone other than him.

“Did he leave without you to care for the emergency?”

“I don’t have any idea what emergency you’re talking about, Detective Marshall. And I don’t have any idea where Mick is. He’s been gone for a few days now.”

Walter is now as confused as Lila appears to be, so he tries to start over.

“Okay. Well. Rachel here says you have some information about our case. Mick mentioned you work in the ER. Did another assault victim come in?”

From his peripheral, Walter sees Rachel shake her head, and he remembers now she already said that wasn’t what this was about, but Lila isn’t offering up any information on her own and he has no idea where to start.

“Lila? Will you tell Detective Marshall what you told me?” Rachel intervenes.

“Okay, yeah. So, I was cleaning the kitchen. It’s gotten a little messy lately, because I’ve been picking up some extra shifts to help with bills and I haven’t had time to really get it spotless like Mick likes. The laundry is kinda of piling up, too.”

“Okay,” Walter isn’t sure where this is going but he tries to encourage her to keep talking.

“And I accidentally knocked over the jar where Mick keeps his change. I’ve asked him to keep that in the living room, or the bedroom, but he insists on it being in the kitchen for some reason. And like, a bunch of coins rolled into the floor vent. So I popped the cover off and reached in to grab them, but my hand brushed against this box.” 

Lila pulls a small cardboard box from the paper bag and holds it out. Walter looks at the box for a moment before taking the gloves Rachel has held out to him. He tugs them over his hands, certain she’s handed him smalls when she has to know he needs a large pair, but whatever. 

He opens it carefully to find several pieces of jewelry inside. He pokes a finger in and shifts them around, making note of rings, pendants, bracelets.

“I take it these aren’t yours?” Walter asks gently. He notices initials that aren’t L.B. on the back of a locket and decides to ask anyway. “Would he be planning to gift these to you?”

“He never gives me presents.” Lila shakes her head. “Look, he’s been so strange lately. And I know I’ve been messing up royally, so I guess I deserved the smacks. He was just trying to get me to quiet down so he could relax after a long day, I know…”

“I’m sorry, did you say he hit you?” Walter asks, his hackles raising now.

��Just … like … a couple times. And it was only really hard once. I was able to cover it with some concealer. It was nothing like those girls I’ve seen at the ER.”

“But he hit you? Did you tell anyone?”

“No! God, no. You know what, forget I said that. That’s not why I’m here. I didn’t know what to do with those. I was just going to get the rest of the change and put the box back. But then I found…” Lila makes a face like she wants to retch and Walter isn’t sure what to do next.

He watches as Lila opens the paper bag again and reaches in with her eyes closed. “Here.”

Lila’s eyes are still closed and she doesn’t open them until Walter has removed the jar from her grip.

He tries to process what he’s looking at. Little bits of shriveled…skin? He rolls the jar and tries to count.

“Rachel, let’s get these to forensics. And get the commander to put a rush on fingerprints and DNA.” Walter hands the items to Rachel, who has just donned her own pair of gloves. “Lila, do you have any idea where Mick might be?”

Lila shakes her head and Walter heaves his shoulders with a heavy sigh. 

“Alright, well let’s get your statement down.” He takes a seat behind Rachel’s desk and switches logins on her computer, pulling up a witness statement on his account and beginning to type. He asks Lila for her basic information, a few more questions about how she came to find the jar and box, listens as she swears she’s never seen these before, and gets angrier and angrier as he types the words “strike” and “hit”, though pleased he’s been able to convince her they are important details for the statement.

He’s just returning from the print room with copies for Lila to sign when his cell rings again. He sees Sy's number and is about to ignore the call, but remembers he sent Alex there this morning.

“Marshall here,” he answers, like his mechanic doesn’t know who he was just calling.

“Hey man, I just picked up your lady friend’s beater, but is there sumthin’ I need to know about her?”

“What could you possibly need to know about her to fix a car?”

“Well, is she in some kinda trouble or sumthin’? I don’t need to get mixed up in anythin’, ya know?”

“Syverson, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Alright, listen. I was just hookin’ her up and havin’ her sign the release. Was about to ask if she needed a ride anywhere, when some guy pulls up. Steps out, flashes a badge. I wasn’t trynna get in anyone’s business, so I hopped in the truck. I can hear him tell her he has some questions for her about a case, ask if she’d come with him. She says she already gave her statement to you, and he says you need her to come back to the station anyway. Then he says ‘now’ real tough and mean-like and she looks like she is about to turn back into the building, but he grabs her and puts her in the car.”

“When did this happen?” Walter is not quite in a panic, but he can feel it creeping up.

“Just now. I’m on my way back to the garage now.”

“Can you describe the vehicle? The man?”

Walter listens while Syverson gives him an accurate description of Mick and what he assumes must be Mick’s personal vehicle.

“Alright, man, thanks. No, there’s nothing you need to worry about. Just get her car up and running for me, would you?”

“You got it, boss.”

Walter ends the call, muttering “what the fuck?” and heads over to dispatch.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! 

That is not how this was supposed to go. I shoulda waited until that guy was gone, but she probably woulda high-tailed it inside and then I’d have to wait who knows how long to get her.

At least she waited until the tow truck was out of sight to start really asking me questions. But I shut her up with a quick backhand. When she turned to me with that stupid look of shock on her face, I followed up with a nice hard jab straight to the jaw. Knocked her dumb ass out, so at least I can have some peace and quiet on the drive out.

We’re almost there now and I can’t wait to introduce her to the rest of the girls. I can tell this one is going to be just as feisty as the last one. She really whet my appetite. I know I’m supposed to space ‘em out so I don’t draw suspicion. I remember learning that from Dad. But it felt so good, teaching her a lesson. Feels like I need to keep it up. A few cuts and bruises ain’t gonna cut it anymore.

Chapter 7

Taglist: (If you asked for a tag and it’s not here, Tumblr likely isn’t letting me tag you. Ask if you want me to try again.)

Anything: @kittenofdoomage​ @fvckinghenrycavill​ @mayloma​ @sillyrabbit81​ @kebabgirl67​ @beck07990​  (Also throwing in a few from the old days for old times sake ;) @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ @anotherwinchesterfangirl​ @sebbytrash​ @feelmyroarrrr​)

NM: @enchantedbytomandhenry​ @kingliam2019​​ @henryownsme​ @littlefreya​ @identity2212​ @marantha​ @angelcavill66​ @sweetdreamsofgelato​ @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​ @liveoncoffeeandflowersss​ @greensleeves888​ @dinoswierdmom​ @geralts-yenn​

[kamoniwa]

 ⟼ a little madness

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: yokai!kuroo/demon!akaashi/human!reader/werewolf!semi

⇢ au: college!au

⇢ summary: you, your friends, and some friends of your friends all get tricked by one tendou satori into visiting an abandoned amusement park for halloween. it turns out it isn’t ghosts you need to worry about, though.

⇥  kinktober masterlist

⇢ warnings: gangbang, noncon to consensual, lots of reluctance, mind break if you squint?, technical temperature play, unprotected sex, creampie, the boys are real gentle in breaking you down

⇢ word count: 11,695

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: don’t really think noncon is my forte but practice makes perfect. is the pairing self-indulgent? fat yes. does this fic make total sense? not really sure. did i have fun writing it? hell yeah. also big thank you to @ishuzoku​ for helping me come up with the flyer bc my og id was garbage lmao.

Furrowing your brows, you looked at Tendo with a mix of exasperation and unadulterated dismay.

“An abandoned amusement park. On Halloween?” Kaori asked before you could, eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “You cannot be serious, Tendo.”

If he was put off by your reactions, he didn’t show it. If anything, he was probably relishing in it, and said, “Yes, yes I am. It’ll be fun. Come on, do you really just wanna get drunk at a boring house party on Halloween?”

You snorted at that, stirring your coffee as you said, “As opposed to getting murdered at an amusement park? That’s like, straight out of a horror movie, Tendo.”

“You guys are so boring,” he whined, slumping forward across the table. Shirabu grumbled under his breath, glaring at Tendo as he nudged his drink closer to Shirabu’s textbook. “Look, it’ll be so cool! Exploring all the abandoned funhouses and imagine how freaky the haunted houses will be! Just think about it, okay?”

The looks everyone exchanged said they had and had already made up their minds, but you nodded anyway, if for no other reason than to appease him.

A moment later, your alarm went off and you bid them goodbye, walking towards the door with Shirabu for your next lecture. You were sure as shit not going to an abandoned anything this weekend.

Except somehow, against all odds, you were piled up in the back of Konoha’s car, crammed beside someone who had been introduced to you as Akaashi Keiji. He was a friend of Bokuto’s and Konoha’s and, upon hearing about your adventure, asked if he could tag along. If you had to peg him, he was more the librarian type than a ghost hunter type-- soft spoken and well mannered with pretty blue eyes that closed slightly when he smiled.

In the front seat were Konoha-- driving-- and Yachi, currently fighting with the radio and Konoha’s phone. 

In the car behind you was someone named Kuroo-- also a friend of Bokuto and Akaashi-- Kaori, Goshiki, and Semi-- a friend of Shirabu, Goshiki, and Tendo. Kuroo was almost ecstatic to be going, but Semi had seemed like he would rather be doing anything else as he climbed into the passenger seat of Kuroo’s car.

The car in front contained Tendo, Bokuto, Yukie, and-- god bless him-- Shirabu. You were sure he was losing his mind as Tendo guided him towards the location of the amusement park. The details on how exactly this had come about were lost on you, but you vaguely recalled a drunken bet made two nights ago and a video that Tendo refused to share properly, but assured you was proof that the group had agreed to the terms of said bet and then lost. Spectacularly. Supposedly.

“So, how did you meet everyone?” Akaashi asked, turning to look at you. The scenery outside was turning quickly from civilization to wilderness, the trees growing thicker the further you drove until you couldn’t tell one trunk from the next. 

Humming, you rested your chin in your hand, bracing your elbow on the door. This was the worst part of meeting someone new during a trip-- tedious small talk. But you had to start somewhere, so you said, “I met Kaori in one of our classes and ‘Toka-- er, Yachi--” The girl turned around at the sound of her name and waved. “-- is my roommate. They kind of introduced me to everyone else.”

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how they had become your core group of friends. From loud and boisterous Bokuto to sullen and taciturn Shirabu, you adored all of them, but you had had your own group of friends before meeting them. Most of those old friends had faded from sight as you found yourself absorbed in your new ones and, while a part of you felt bad, it was just a part of life.

“What about you?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “How do you know them?”

Konoha snickered from the front seat and Akaashi cut him a glare before turning back to you. “I’ve been friends with Konoha, Bo, and Tetsuro since highschool. Kaori and Yukie were our managers,” he said.

Konoha made a turn onto a road who’s name sign had long since fallen off the rusty pole, and you wondered just how far out you had traveled. It didn’t feel like it had been long since you left, but you recognized nothing around you and there was no sign of life. 

“So, everyone but ‘Toka and I were friends in highschool, huh?” You chuckled. “What are the odds?”

Akaashi laughed with you, fiddling with his fingers as he turned back to look out his window. 

The car was now filled with the sound of music, overtaking the silence that fell between the four of you. Konoha was focused on driving and you knew Yachi was more than a little nervous-- you had almost expected her to back out and accept whatever payback Tendo had planned for it afterwards.

“Do any of you guys know anything about this place?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your chin on Yachi’s seat. Through the windshield, you could see Tendo’s shaved head and Bokuto’s spiky locks in the backseat, and worried for poor Shirabu’s sanity. “How did Tendo even know this place existed?”

“It’s an old legend,” Akaashi spoke up softly. 

Both you and Yachi turned to look at him, the latter’s breath hitching because everyone knew when those words were said, the story was going to be unpleasant.

Konoha cursed as he hit a pothole, muttering Tendo’s name under his breath as he righted the car between the faded lane lines, and Akaashi smiled at that before looking back to you.

“I doubt most people have heard of it,” he began, popping his knuckles one at a time. “It’s more of a local thing, really.”

“Well then how do you know about it?” you asked curiously, quirking a brow. You knew Bokuto grew up in Tokyo, which meant Akaashi had as well, and you were well outside of the city limits.

Akaashi smiled, tipping his head to the side and for the first time there was something other than soft indifference in it. “I enjoy these types of places and legends. It’s a hobby, you might say. This particular amusement park was meant to be scary in nature and didn’t stay open for long due to unexplained deaths and disappearances.”

Yachi squeaked, and you cast her a glance before resting your hand on her shoulder. This was probably not the best story for someone as easily scared as she was, but it was too late now, and you knew there was curiosity beneath the fear.

“That sounds way too vague,” you said, lips curling up at the corners. “That’s what everyone says about places like this. It’s not scary.”

Your skepticism was met with laughter and he said, “True. The police at the time pinned the problems on faulty attractions or poor background checks, saying there must have been a serial killer hired without anyone realizing. Sounds to me like they just couldn’t figure out what was causing it.”

You rolled your eyes, nodding along. If the park was as old as Tendo said, it could really have been faulty attractions, but you weren’t buying the serial killer story. It sounded too far-fetched compared to being crushed by an unstable support beam. 

Akaashi continued, voice dropping in what might have been a scary attempt at atmosphere if the sun wasn’t framing his pretty features in a golden glow behind him. “The locals all said that the place was haunted, too many deaths had built up negative energy, trapping the spirits of those killed there. Unable to escape, they grew angry and the deaths continued until authorities labeled the park unsafe and banned any more visitors. And then--”

“What the hell?” Konoha cut him off, hitting the brakes a little harder than necessary.

Akaashi’s seat belt locked and he grunted, rubbing at the new red mark on his neck as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” Konoha replied, putting the car in park. “Sorry about that. Shirabu is getting out of the car.”

The car behind you pulled up as you were getting out, eyes wide as you watched Tendo lay a map out on the trunk of Shirabu’s car.

“We’re lost,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

A tall figure blocked out the sun in front of you and you squinted up into the face of Kuroo. He was giving you a catlike grin, ruffling his messy rooster hair as he said, “Sure seems that way, princess. This place is in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be surprised if we even find it.” He guided you over to the car where the others were gathered, snickering at the look of surprise on your face. “What?”

“You know about this place too?” you asked, glancing at Akaashi on the other side of the car. He cast you a small, closed eyed smile. “Akaashi was telling us about it in the car.”

Kuroo chuckled, raising a brow at his friend. “Yeah, being friends with Akaashi has its share of hazards.”

“Look, I’m pretty sure we’re here,” Tendo said, interrupting your conversation. He was pointing to a small line that looked just like any other on the map, aside from the major roadways and cities. If he was right, you were a decent ways out of the city and your watch read 1:01pm. “If we just follow this road and then this one, it’ll lead us straight past the village and to the park.”

Shirabu looked skeptical, spinning the map around to look at it as well. He wasn’t exactly wrong but how could he really tell? All the smaller roads looked the same and they couldn’t even confirm the name of the road because there was no sign. It had also been ages since they last saw a house or even another car, so asking anyone was out of the question too.

“This is stupid,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. No one besides Tendo really wanted to be there-- he ignored the fact that Kuroo was just as excited as his weirdo friend to be going and that Akaashi had jumped at the opportunity as well-- and it would be so much easier to just turn around and go to Hinata’s party. “We should just go home before we get lost.”

Tendo frowned at that, sharing a look with Kuroo before saying, “We aren’t lost*. It’s not much further now. Just trust me.”

The others were all inclined to agree with Shirabu, you included, but arguing with Tendo was like arguing with a brick wall-- pointless. He had already tricked you into agreeing to this endeavor and at this point backing out would be both a waste of time and gas. Shirabu was too smart to get lost anyway but, if you were lucky, Tendo was wrong and you wouldn’t be able to find the place at all.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find it?” Yachi asked once you were safely back in the car. 

Akaashi hummed beside you, but you said, “God I hope not. I was looking forward to Hinata’s party and if we get back quick enough we might still make it.”

Konoha looked at you in the rearview, eyes crinkled as he snickered. “What, are you scared, _____? Afraid the ghosts are gonna get ya?”

Scoffing, you dug through your bag for your phone. A check an hour ago had revealed one bar, but now the words ‘No Service’ blazed across the service banner. “No, I’m not scared. There are just a thousand better things to be doing that than breaking my neck on rusty amusement park rides.”

“Sounds like cowardice to me,” he answered, laughing at you through the mirror. 

Sticking your tongue out at him, you turned back to the window, sighing as the scenery passed by in a blur. Konoha and Akaashi talked a lot about volleyball, Yachi pitching in occasionally. You knew she had managed her highschool volleyball team and knew everyone else in the group to some degree, but most everything sports related went over your head. 

Still, Akaashi made some effort to get to know you, asking about highschool and what classes you were taking. You told him about your major and asked what his was, finding out he was a literature major and constantly busy, explaining why you had never met him before. He, Kuroo, and Semi were the busiest out of all their friends, often skipping out on get togethers in order to study, work, or-- in Semi’s case-- practice with his band.

A little while later, while Yachi and Konoha were having a heated discussion about their favorite subjects, you caught the first glimpse of something besides trees. Turning to look out the windshield, you saw brake lights already lighting up and the car began to slow.

“Well, we found the village, at least,” Tendo said, reading the faded sign displaying the name of the town. “I didn’t expect it to be abandoned too, though.”

Everyone was gathered in the middle of the road, looking down the mainstreet of the village. Windows were busted out and boarded up, paint faded on rotten clapboards, and roofs missing tiles or riddled with holes. The street was littered with potholes and the whole town had an eerie sense of unnatural quiet. Everyone shifted on their heels, slowly making their way back towards the cars without a word and piling in. 

Even Tendo looked unnerved.

The town disappeared behind you but in the distance you could see the towering track of a roller coaster above the treeline. Even from so far away you could see that the paint was faded off of it, the sun filtering through clouds and casting the whole area in shades of grey. To you, it seemed like the forest was darker, the trees packed more closely together, and your heart began to thump in your chest.

“You okay?” Akaashi’s gentle voice asked in your ear. His hand landed on your shoulder, colder than expected, and you shivered underneath his touch. “You look like you’ve already seen a ghost.”

You nodded, looking over to find him giving you a look of amused concern, one corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Just nervous. That town was creepy as hell and it freaked me out a little.”

“Me too!” Yachi squeaked from the front seat, turning around to give you a pleading look. “Don’t you dare leave me, _____.”

Laughter filled the car then and you patted Yachi on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ‘Toka.”

The towering sign for the park appeared up ahead and the car fell silent all over again as brake lights lit up again. Broken glass and gravel littered the parking lot, which was smaller than expected for how big the park looked. 

Everyone seemed to hesitate on getting out of the cars. Tendo was the first, followed by Kuroo, and then Akaashi. Like it was a signal, the rest of you followed, Yachi clinging onto your hand and Kuroo and Akaashi seeming to stand behind you protectively, close enough that you could feel warmth radiating off them.

“Do we really have to go in there?” Goshiki asked, eyeing the ticket booth with disdain. The paint on it, like everything else, was faded, the wood rotten and the window and door busted out. The latter creaked on its hinges, filling the still air with an unsettling noise that mixed with the faint sounds of creaking metal and leaves fluttering in the wind.

Everyone shuffled back towards the cars a little at his question, but Tendo took a step forward, resting his hand on the turnstile. “Since we’re actually here, may as well take a look around.”

Without another moment of hesitation, he hopped over it, peering around with an unusually quiet interest. It was the first time since you had met Tendo that he had nothing to say, his already pale face seemingly devoid of color, making his vibrant, sleepy eyes pop out even more.

Groaning, you, Shirabu, and Goshiki stepped forward, dragging Yachi with you as you climbed over the turnstile as well. You couldn’t just let Tendo wander off into the dangerous park alone. The others followed suit, muffled whispers and conversations floating through the air as they spread out in the area. 

The forest had started taking back over through the concrete, weeds and grass sprouting up through the cracks and pushing the cobblestones up and out of place. Vines of ivy and moss hung from the powerpoles, vendor booths, and some attractions further back, swaying in the gentle breeze. The buildings were dark inside, but through the gloom you could make out mannequins and shelves devoid of merchandise.

The bell dinged on the first one Tendo pushed open-- a souvenir shop. It was empty except for dust and garbage, as were the next few you entered.

Slowly but surely the group made their way further into the park, Yachi clinging onto you the whole time. Akaashi and Kuroo were right behind the two of you, Shirabu and Semi in front, forming a kind of guard while Tendo and Bokuto led the way. Kaori clung to Goshiki, who looked like he was putting on a brave front despite his pink cheeks and the nervousness in his eyes.

For all his grumbling, Shirabu looked interested as he eyed all the buildings and machinery. It was quiet, devoid even of the sound of birdsong or humming bugs, and it unsettled you.

“Oh look, it’s the pirate ship ride!” Bokuto yelled suddenly, breaking the deathly silence.

Everyone jumped, Shirabu hissing at him to shut up while Yukie shrieked, latching onto him. Bokuto had the decency to look abashed but still steered the group towards the derelict platform, testing his weight on the creaky metal stairs on his way up.

The deck of the ship was littered with leaves and dust, the seats worn down and showing stuffing and springs after however many years left in the element. There were signs of rust on the metal and the whole thing shifted slightly to emit a creak.

“Um, Bo, I don’t think that’s safe,” Kuroo called out, grabbing your arm to stop you from following up behind him. 

Tendo and Goshiki were up beside him, examining the boat itself and, before anyone knew it, the former had hopped into it.

“Tendo!” Shirabu called, a trace of panic in his voice. His fingers were wrapped around the railing, paint flakes coming away under his touch hand as he prepared to spring up the stairs, but everyone’s eyes were locked on Tendo’s precarious creep down the middle aisle. “Get out of there before you get hurt, idiot!”

“It’s fine, Shirabu,” he called, now standing at the bow. “It’s kinda cool actually. I can see more of the park from here.”

Bokuto landed with a thump a moment later, a louder creak ringing out than when lanky Tendo had landed, and everyone took a collective breath and held it. 

But as before, it held, and he joined Tendo up by the bow.

“Wow, he’s right!” he called, holding his hand above his eyes like a visor and peering out over the park. It was certainly bigger than he imagined for being in the middle of nowhere. “There’s a house over that way!”

“Probably the haunted house,” Tendo said, straining to see what Bokuto was looking at. In the distance were two stilted, twisted steeples painted in different hues. One was flamboyant and bright, the other dark and dreary, even compared to the state of disrepair of the rest of the park. “I see a funhouse too, I think. Looks pretty freaky. Wanna check ‘em out?”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto shouted, whipping around to look at the rest of you.

Shirabu looked ready to blow a gasket, and Yachi looked ready to faint, but everyone else looked intrigued. Even you couldn’t help but be a little curious about it, having free range to explore the most interesting rides in the park. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to be able to see what they were like without restraint? 

The sun was just beginning to fade behind the treeline, turning the clouds a thin shade of orange, but the lure of seeing something interesting had dissolved any real fear.

The two men met Goshiki on the platform and made their way back down to the rest of the group, eyes shining bright with the promise of adventure.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!” Tendo said as if the stunt he just pulled hadn’t taken years off all your lives. Jumping haphazardly onto a decade old, rusted out death trap attraction at an abandoned amusement park hours from the nearest hospital wasn’t going to earn him any genius awards.

On the way towards the supposed attractions, you came across the carousel. Its metal panels were tarnished, the paint worn away from them and the animals, the mirrors grimy with dirt. Vines and ivy climbed up everywhere. The platform shifted when Kuroo stepped onto it, Tendo hot on his heels followed closely by Bokuto. 

“Let’s go see, ‘Toka,” you said, tugging her forward by the hand. Kaori took your other one, squeezing, while Akaashi guided you with a gentle hand on your back.

“Look at this,” someone said, and you turned to find Semi holding a faded paper. “It looks like a poster claiming someone was kidnapping people.”

“How the hell is it still here?” Konoha asked, peering at it around Semi’s arm. “It should have disintegrated a long damn time ago.”

“Dunno,” Semi said with a frown. Trying to see the paper, you were crowded against Semi by Yachi and Kaori and flinched when you realized how hot he was. “It was wedged in the frame of the mirror.”

The whole thing was faded but still legible, due presumably to being tucked into the mirror, and appeared to be a flyer issued by the park itself.

Due to the recent disappearances, park security has been tightened. Please stay aware of your surroundings and report and suspicious activity immediately.

“You were right, Akaashi,” you said, glancing up at the man standing behind you. “They really did think someone was kidnapping people.”

“A lot of the people were never found,” Semi said, folding the sheet up neatly and tucking into his pocket. “It’s not surprising they thought that.”

“Ohhhh, maybe the bodies are still here,” Tendo said, wiggling his fingers over Konoha’s shoulders. “Maybe it was actually the workers kidnapping people and they kept the bodies in a secret place.”

“Like where?” Shirabu asked, giving him an exasperated, skeptical look. It was getting late and they were wasting time just hanging around. He wasn’t particularly thrilled at the idea of being in the park after dark, going to possibly the scariest attraction in the place, but if they were going to do it, they needed to just get it done. “The authorities probably tore this place apart looking for them.”

Tendo shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Maybe they hid them in the haunted house. Maybe there’s a hidden room somewhere that only the workers knew how to open.”

“Could you not?” Yukie asked, slapping Tendo on the arm. “We’re going there, in case you forgot, pea brain. Way to freak us out.”

Yachi was clinging onto Kaori now, staring at Tendo with wide, frightened eyes and he almost looked repentant.

“Or, you know, could be anywhere. The haunted house would be a pretty obvious place to hide it, wouldn’t it?” he said, rubbing the back of his head. Beckoning to Yachi, she went reluctantly, letting Tendo tuck her under his arm. “Don’t worry, Yach. I’ll protect you, ‘kay?”

You and Kaori snickered at the shade of red her face turned, and Shirabu sighed.

“Can we just get going before it gets too late?” he asked, turning and leading the way down the path. The shadows were slowly lengthening, orange mixing with shades of pink and purple in the sky.

Semi fell into step beside you, Yukie on your other side. Goshiki and Konoha were having a conversation about the derelict rollercoaster to the right, and you allowed your attention to drift to it. It was eerie, the faded paint and rusted metal tracks looming like a foreboding beacon above you. Staring the way you were, your foot caught a displaced cobblestone and you went sprawling with a yelp.

Before you could smack the ground, a strong, warm hand wrapped around your upper arm and hauled you back up. It hurt, causing a sharp ache in your shoulder, but it still hurt less than the concrete probably would have. Looking up at your savior, you gave him a half smile.

“Thanks, Semi,” you said, rubbing your shoulder.

But he was frowning at you-- not that that was any different than the look he’d worn all day-- but this one was marred by soft concern. “Are you alright? You’re awfully cold.”

“O-Oh. No, I’m fine. Just got distracted by the coaster,” you said, giggling in embarrassment. “It is a bit chilly though, now that you mention it. I didn’t notice.”

There was a moment's hesitation, then the sound of a zipper being drawn down. A weight settled across your shoulders, surrounding you with an unfamiliar cologne, and your cheeks heated up at the realization that he had given you his jacket.

“That’s okay, Semi, really,” you said, shrugging the jacket off. “It isn’t that bad, and it’s my own fault. I left mine in the car.”

“No worries, _____,” he said, and for the first time you could see a small smile on his face in the dim light. “I’m not cold, so you can take it.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, pulling it back around your shoulders. It was warm and you smiled when you caught him looking at you. He was wearing a peculiar look, kind but almost possessive, and he licked his lips once before looking forward again.

You shivered, unsure if you were just seeing things. The park had rattled your nerves and Semi was just being nice. You didn’t know him well enough to make a judgement call like that and forced down the uneasiness, taking your place beside him again.

“Smooth move, klutz,” Konoha quipped, nudging your back. Goshiki and Shirabu snickered and you flipped them off over your shoulder, looping your other arm with Yukie.

The steepled spires of the haunted house came into view, beside which stood the funhouse, like Tendo said. Both looked terrifying in the dying light of the sun. Like everything else, the paint was almost gone, shingles missing from the roofs which were adorned with holes.

Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed Semi’s arm, pressing yourself to it. He glanced at you for a moment, a soft smile flitting across his face before looking at Tendo, who was staring between the two buildings.

“I wanna go in the funhouse,” Tendo said, turning back to the rest of the group. Setting his hands on his hips, he looked around at everyone. “Should we go as a group?” Kuroo shifted, pointing his feet towards the haunted house. “I kinda wanna go in there, actually.”

“Well no one should go anywhere alone,” Shirabu said firmly, and everyone nodded in agreement. If someone got hurt, no one would know for ages and then there was the long ride back on top of it.

“So we’ll split up. Everyone pick a house,” Tendo said, clapping his hands. 

Yukie’s arm around yours disappeared and she scurried over to Tendo, looking at you apologetically. Yachi took her place instead, looking for all the world like she was going to collapse from fright, and you gave her a concerned look.

“I’m going wherever you go,” she said, and you raised a brow. 

Before you could answer, Kuroo’s arm slung around your shoulders, looming over Yachi’s tiny form. “It looks like everyone’s decided. Pretty even split. Let’s meet back here in--” He checked his watch. “Two hours? That should be enough time to see everything.”

You opened your mouth to object, but Tendo nodded while Shirabu set the timer on his watch. “Everyone be careful, please. We really can’t afford any injuries.”

Yachi looked up at the dark house looming before you while the other group made their way towards the funhouse. 

You could hear Tendo’s voice echo back, saying, “That’s the reason we have you here, Shirabu. You’re a doctor and all.”

Shirabu said something in return, but it was lost in the distance as you were herded towards the haunted house. The doors hung open, swinging in the breeze and creaking.  It seemed like the house sucked all the warmth from the air the closer you got to it, and you squeezed Semi’s arm in yours.

“Scared, princess?” Kuroo whispered in your ear, raising the hairs on the back of your neck when his warm breath met your cold skin. “You shouldn’t be. We’re here with you.”

The steps leading into it sagged beneath your weight, the wood softer than it should’ve been and it came as no surprise when one broke beneath Semi’s weight. He cursed while you and Yachi pulled back, keeping him from falling over and potentially hurting himself. It took Akaashi and Kuroo both to pull him up out of the hole and a quick check revealed his jeans had protected his leg.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, looking up into Semi’s unamused face. He was wearing a hard scowl, his grip on you iron clad now as he guided you up the steps.

“Sure,” he said, eyes softening when he looked down at you. “Just annoyed.”

Inside, the light from your phones seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. The dust was thick and the air musty and humid. Cobwebs hung from everything, casting long shadows into the darkness beyond the halo of your flashlights.

Yachi yelped, tripping over a rotted track board and would have dragged you down if you weren’t holding onto Semi so tightly. His heat was almost a comfort now, driving away the persistent chill that seemed to emanate from the ramshackle walls. You couldn’t tell where the fabricated deterioration ended and true rot began.

“This way then?” Akaashi asked, leading the way into the first door. It was the kitchen area, set up to look like a butcher shop. A thick layer of dust settled over everything, motes flurrying through the painfully white light from your phones in an eerie dance that made it even harder to see.

Old props lay on the worn countertops, splotches of what was likely-- hopefully-- fake blood a dark black on the faded wood and laminate. Someone had a hand on your back while Akaashi examined a chain hanging from the ceiling, something hanging from the end of it. It made a strange noise when he pushed it, a crackly, grinding noise like it was rusty. It wouldn’t be a surprise, with the humidity as high as it is. 

“That’s a little unsettling,” Kuroo admitted, and you all jumped when a loud crash rang out somewhere further down.

“Now would be the time to leave if we were in a horror movie,” you hinted through gritted teeth, even as Kuroo stepped back out into the hall. He scanned the darkness, his phone hanging by his side, the light pointed towards the floor. “What do you expect to see anyway, genius?”

He turned back to wink before disappearing into the dark and you groaned, straining your eyes to see anything. His light was lost in the gloom and you released Yachi’s arm, taking a step forward. Semi allowed himself to be dragged along with you while Goshiki held Yachi, petting her hair as she whimpered.

Swearing, you and Semi trudged down the hallway, listening for any noises but heard nothing besides the sounds of an old building settling. Your voice caught in your throat when you opened your mouth to call for Kuroo, your ire failing in the face of the oppressive darkness in the heart of the house. Swiping a cobweb off your face, you shined your phone around, lighting up a destroyed living room area, two hallways, and a staircase.

“You don’t think he went upstairs, do you?” Semi whispered, following your line of sight.

Swallowing, you said, “God I fuckin’ hope not. This is so creepy, can’t we just leave him?”

He chuckled against his will, a quiet, rough noise as he tried to stifle it. “‘Fraid not. I don’t wanna deal with the cops.”

Heaving a sigh, you pointed the light down to the floor and found no sign of footprints in the thick dust. Flashing it behind you, you saw your own and Semi’s clearly visible and frowned. “Hey, look.”

Semi scoured the floor, waving his light all around you. “He definitely came this way.”

Nodding, you pointed the light back in front of you, down the hallway, but it was unable to break more than a few inches of darkness. “Okay, now I’m really freaked out. Where is he?”

New light joined your meager one, shuffling footsteps coming to a stop just behind you. 

Akaashi’s hand landed on your shoulder, peering over your head at where you were staring.

“This way,” Semi said after a moment of silence. It was broken only by Yachi’s occasional sniffle and you wondered if you shouldn’t just return to the front door and let Semi and Akaashi handle the rescue. But gentle pressure on your arm and shoulder guided you down, sniffling at the dust before you broke out into a sneeze.

The floor creaked beneath your feet, making the already eerie feeling worse as you crept down the hall. There were faded, torn paintings lining the walls, a few false doors, and windows painted black and boarded up. You couldn’t tell if the paint peeling up the walls was due to age or intent, but it certainly didn’t help settle your unease. 

“Careful,” Semi said suddenly, jerking you sideways into him. The cold hand slid off your shoulder and a light revealed a hole in the middle of the floor, where you had been about to step.

“Thanks,” you breathed, swallowing harshly. The dust was starting to sting your eyes and you repressed another sneeze, rubbing your nose. 

Skirting around the hole, it opened into another room, what appeared to be a library. Overstuffed armchairs littered the room, the shelves lining the walls stacked with what were likely fake books. There was no sign of Kuroo, but Semi led you further into the room carefully.

He wasn’t careful enough, though.

Once second you were clinging to him, the next you heard a crack and then you were experiencing the most curious sensation. Your stomach swooped as the light disappeared, and you realized belatedly that you were falling. Something warm, almost scalding wrapped around you, and your fall stopped short with a grunt of impact.

You lay there stunned for several long moments, head spinning and heart beating hard enough that you could feel it in your ears. The dark was only furthering your disorientation and you only realized you were laying on something when it moved beneath you.

Sitting up, you felt something slump over your shoulders before coughing filled your ears.

“Semi?” you whispered hoarsely. Above you, you registered screaming and looked up only to be blinded by light.

Semi grunted behind you but didn’t move, breathing heavy against your back. From above, you could hear muted conversation before the shrieking stopped.

“_____, Semi, are you both okay?” Akaashi’s concerned voice reached your ringing ears, and you nodded in response.

It took you a moment to realize he probably couldn’t see you, calling up, “Yeah, I think so. Semi--”

“‘M fine,” he yelled, though he sounded winded. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, wrapping a hand around the wrist dangling in front of you. A few feet away lay your phone, face down, the light muted but visible, and you sighed in relief. “You caught me, are you sure*?”

Semi chuckled, a rough noise. “Yeah, I’m sure. Trust me.”

“You guys stay there,” Akaashi commanded, then turned back to Goshiki and Yachi to say something. “I’ll find a way down to you.”

He disappeared and you scrambled forward, snatching your phone up. Moving back to the relative safety of Semi’s presence, you shined it around. 

The basement, you decided upon seeing the array of monster props and torture machines, was perhaps the most terrifying part of the house. It was only heightened by your adrenaline rush, the shadows seeming to jump out to your paranoid mind.

As the adrenaline wore off, you took stock of your extremities. Semi really had cushioned you-- nothing hurt-- and you turned to face him.

In the light, he really did look fine, even his breathing had evened out, and he looked back at you with a smirk. “Told you. I’m tougher than you think.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” you admitted, getting to your feet. You didn’t let Semi get far, linking your arm with his and clinging to him, much to his amusement.

His eyes adjusted to the dark faster than yours and he located his phone near the base of a rusty filing cabinet. The screen was cracked-- which he cursed-- but it still worked, and he turned the flashlight back on.

“This is creepy as fuck,” he muttered, thumping the model of a skeletal doctor to see the dust swirl. There was a medical table in the center of the room with a light looming over it. He assumed there was supposed to be a body laying on said table and, in the dark, it was a scary thought that it was no longer there. “I hope Akaashi hurries up. I don’t like it here.”

You couldn’t stifle the small giggle, though you covered your mouth in a poor attempt. It was the nerves, you were sure, because as he moved away you held tighter, stumbling after him. He tried one door, the handle stiff enough that you recognized it to be fake. There was a set of metal double doors on the other side of the room and those swung open with an eerie grinding noise, scraping across the concrete floor.

The hallways extended to either direction, cells lining the wall in front of you and you shuddered. “Let’s go, Semi, please,” you begged, tugging him down to the left. It was the same direction that you had come from on the floor above and hoped that it would lead you to a staircase or something*.

Semi went along reluctantly, flashing his light in all the cells you passed. Most were empty, besides the occasional bed or other prop. Some contained chains mounted in the wall and his eyes flashed to you.

The hallway opened up into what may have been a waiting room if most of the furniture hadn’t been utterly destroyed. As you scanned the area, there was a noise from up ahead and you jerked to a stop, scurrying back to Semi’s side. Peeking around him while he stared down the hall, you kept a tight grip on his arm, feeling the muscles flex and tense beneath your hand. A shadow moved in the light and you nearly screamed as Kuroo stepped into view, followed closely by Akaashi.

Neither carried a light and your heart leapt in your throat when you caught a momentary flash of light reflecting off of Kuroo’s eyes before it disappeared.

Still hiding behind Semi, the four of you regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Kuroo chuckled.

“Well, this is certainly convenient, though I didn’t expect you to get involved,” he said, leaning sideways against the wall. He looked as relaxed as usual while Akaashi lurked behind him, staring at you peeking around Semi’s arm. 

He held out a hand to you but you held back, suddenly unsure of Kuroo’s words. With your heart in your throat, you looked up into Semi’s relaxed, impassive face. He made no moves, just watched the other two linger in front of your only escape route.

Then he shrugged.

“Dumb luck.”

The men burst into laughter and you squeaked, taking a step back from Semi. Before you could get anywhere, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Easy, kitten. We don’t wanna hurt you,” Kuroo said, stepping further into the room. His eyes lit up once again in the light from your flashlight, mischievous brown turning solid gold. His pupils narrowed and elongated, his smile seeming to become more sharp as he stared down at you.

You breathed in sharply, taking a step back into Semi’s chest. Regardless of whether he was in on whatever they had planned, he was the safest option as opposed to whatever the hell Kuroo was.

The grip on your wrist loosened but came to your shoulders instead, keeping you in place with a warning squeeze. You had already guessed he was tough, given he had taken the full brunt of the impact earlier, but you now suspected he wasn’t human either.

Akaashi came forward last, looking as placid and calm as ever, cold fingertips stroking down your cheek.

You shivered.

None of these men were human, if you had to hazard a guess. Staring up at them, you felt your heart drop.

“W-Where are ‘Toka and Goshiki?” you asked, and were proud that your voice barely cracked. Maybe if you reminded them people would be looking for you, they would back off, allowing you to escape.

Kuroo chuckled, flipping the zipper of your-- Semi’s-- jacket up in what would have been a cute manner under different circumstances. “Keiji here sent them looking for the others in the funhouse, but they’ll never find the doorway down here. Tendo was right, there are lots of hidden doors in this place.”

“What are you? What are you going to-- to d-do to me?” you asked quickly, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as he started to tug the zipper down. You were stalling at best, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. If there was any chance of escape, you couldn’t figure it out. You had no idea where this door was and you had the impression you wouldn’t be able to outrun them anyway.

“I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you,” he answered, taking a step closer. You tried to shrink away, huddling down into Semi’s oversized jacket, but it only seemed to entice them. “I am a yokai, I assume you know what that is? Akaashi is your run of the mill demon.”

If that offended Akaashi, he didn’t show it, simply widening his smile and blinking slowly. His once serene blue eyes turned pitch black and when he blinked again, they were normal.

“I’m just a werewolf,” Semi said, breathing against your ear. His hands slid down, catching the zipper of his jacket between his fingers and drawing the zipper down slowly.

“W-Wait, please,” you tried, grabbing and tugging at his wrist to no avail. He was far stronger, and you were like a fly in comparison. “Please, can we just go?”

Kuroo cupped your cheek, a moderate temperature compared to the other two, and his smile seemed to soften a fraction. “No, kitten. Keiji and I have been waiting for this for far too long. The wolf probably just likes how you smell.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but the deep, pointed inhale Semi took against your neck seemed to verify the statement. The jacket fell to the floor with barely a whisper and then your phone was placed face up on a table, beside the men’s, and the combined light filled the room. 

It felt like you couldn’t get enough air as warm hands skimmed down your stomach, stretching the soft fabric of your t-shirt out, before settling on your hips. Lips met your neck, tentative at first, trailing up to your jaw, causing you to shiver.

The heat radiating off of Semi and Kuroo was getting to you, Semi’s soft lips flitting over pleasure spots causing your back to arch. You didn’t want to like it, but when Kuroo’s hands slipped up your shirt and over your ribs, your muscles tensed in unwanted arousal. Your nipples were already peaking inside your bra, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the first graze of teeth on your skin.

“W-Wa-ait--” you breathed and, for a moment, you thought they really would stop because they both paused.

It was over in a moment, a soft kiss pressed to your other cheek as Kuroo pushed your bra up over your tits. His hands were soft as they cupped the tender flesh, giving gentle squeezes that went straight to your core, as much as you protested. “Not gonna happen, kitten. May as well enjoy it. We’ll take good care of you.”

A new sensation joined the heat surrounding you then, Kuroo moving to the side to allow Akaashi to join in. His hands were cold compared to the other two, one on your side and one cupping your unoccupied breast. The difference was enough to make you gasp, back arching on its own into their touch, and they at least had the decency not to snicker.

“You really do smell good, princess,” Semi whispered in your ear, nipping the lobe. “I can smell everything, even how wet you’re getting for us.”

Craning your neck away from him only opened you up to another smattering of kisses and you hated that he was right. They were getting to you, their gentle touches on your body doing everything right, like they had been your lovers for years rather than men you just met today. It made it harder to think than it already was, mind still racing in a futile effort to formulate some way to escape, but even you could recognize your body giving up.

Your shirt came up and over your head, disappearing somewhere outside of your vision. There was a collective intake from the men in front of you, and Semi groaned over your shoulder.

“I knew you would be so pretty, kitten,” Kuroo cooed, palming one tit again. He relished in the way you twitched when he pinched your nipple, then he cupped both, bouncing and watching them jiggle. “Been watching you all day, we couldn’t wait to get our hands on you.”

Akaashi was the first to lean over, wrapping cool lips around one pert bud, and Kuroo stepped back to watch your teeth sink into your lip to stifle any noises.

“Feel good, princess?” Semi asked, and chuckled when you shook your head. “It will soon, then. We won’t hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good.”

The worst part was, you were beginning to enjoy it. It was so tempting to cave, to just let them have their way with you. They were gentle, surprisingly so, and it was knocking down whatever resistance you had left at an alarming rate.

Semi’s hands were almost scalding against your sides, squeezing and kneading as he suckled at your neck, feeling you whine in your throat. “There you go. Just let go.”

The clasp of your bra came loose, and you weren’t even sure who had done it, before it was slid down your arms and dumped, presumably with your shirt.

There were two sets of lips attached to each nipple, your nails digging into your palms to keep from tangling your fingers in someone’s hair but you were losing the will to fight. Your panties were embarrassingly wet, no matter how much your mind insisted you didn’t like it, and you broke your silence when cold fingers drifted down to undo the button of your jeans.

“No please,” you begged, wiggling your hips in your first real display of resistance. Hands clamped down to still them in an iron grip, and a hand clasped your jaw, forcing you to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“What wrong, kitten? You’ve been so good up til now,” he said, stroking your lower lip with his thumb. There were imprints of your teeth in the skin, and he ached to kiss you, but it would have to wait.

“I-I don’t w-want--” you stuttered, tears burning the corners of your eyes as your zipper was pulled down.

Semi interrupted you then, tilting your head just so that he could kiss the corner of your mouth, smirking. “She’s embarrassed because of how wet she is.” Dropping his voice to barely a whisper, he said, “I can smell you, princess. You want this, don’t deny it.”

Shaking your head feebly, you whined when Semi pressed his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your lips again. It was enough to distract you from your jeans sliding down your legs, until they pooled at your ankles and Akaashi had to tug your shoes off. Your jeans hit the floor shortly afterwards, the air startlingly cool against your now bare skin only to be covered with warmth as the men caged you in again.

It started with two fleeting touches to your inner thighs, which you tried to stop by squeezing them together only for them to pried apart in an instant. Semi took the opportunity to lay another languid kiss to the corner of your mouth, tongue flicking out against your lips.

For a moment, you turned into it only to jerk away, looking in the opposite direction. You knew what they were trying to do and you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing you beg for something you didn’t want. You wondered briefly where the others were and why you could hear nothing from above, until warm hands cupped your tits again.

You bit down on your lip again when Semi circled your nipples with his thumbs, massaging your breasts as he rolled them between his fingers. It was hard to keep quiet when it felt so good, especially when Kuroo and Akaashi were teasing your inner thighs, so close your aching cunt.

Your hips rocked of their own accord, your mind too preoccupied with the warm touches on your tender nipples and stifling your noises, but all three of your attackers smirked.

“Ask, pretty girl,” Akaashi said, speaking for the first time. 

His voice combined with his fleeting, cold touch against the soaked lips of your cunt caused a gasp to break free, hips rolling up in a jerky manner against your will. Your ears burned when they laughed and your teeth sank into your lip again. It was driving you insane, they were so close but you refused to beg for it.

“Aw, did we upset you, kitten?” Kuroo cooed, placing a wet kiss against your hip. “We’re sorry. You’re just so cute we can’t help it. Come on, ask us. Ask us to touch this pretty little pussy and we’ll make it up to you.”

Another swipe across your clit timed with a tug on your nipples broke the seal a second time.

“S-Semi--”

“There she goes,” Semi whispered, tilting your head around to look at him. Tears were spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him with wide, resigned eyes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips for a moment and you swallowed, blinking the tears away, but didn’t struggle.

The first kiss was tentative, tongue ghosting between your parted lips to test you for a reaction. You only whined into the kiss, leaning in and he delved into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours as he tasted you.

When he pulled away, you hiccupped, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“Please, just touch me. Fuck me, do whatever. I can’t--” you whispered, thighs aching from how tense you had been for god knew how long. It was too much to hold out, not when you were so wet and aching for it anyway. They knew what they were doing, their gentle teasing and buildup working to break down any fight you had and it had worked flawlessly. 

You melted into Semi as Kuroo lifted one leg over his shoulder. Akaashi left a trail of cool kisses down your inner thigh while Kuroo kissed up the opposite one. You didn’t know whether to tremble or whine, so you did both when his nose bumped your clit, and they chuckled again.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?” Akaashi asked, and you might have mistook it for affection in another situation. “Just relax.”

As if you had a choice. Hot breathe puffed across your folds, teasing just a little more until you were practically dripping on his lips. Only then did his tongue swipe across your clit, your hips jerking harshly. His hot tongue was replaced with a cold one, the two of them taking turns lapping at your clit at such a languid pace that it was more torturous than not being touched at all.

“Fuck, please, stop teasing,” you cried, voice cracking as your back arched. You were desperate at this point, willing to beg or do whatever they wanted. You weren’t getting out of it without doing so anyway, so you might as well enjoy it. “Kuroo, Akaashi, please.”

A sharp pinch to your nipples made you squeal just before Semi devoured your mouth. You could feel the aggravation in the kiss, the way his teeth clacked against yours and his tongue pressed against yours. You made muffled noises against him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.

At the same time, Kuroo latched onto your clit properly, and your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head as you rocked your hips against his feverish suckling. The noises he was making filled the quiet space, grunts and would-be moans that terminated against your clit as he worked to make you cum.

Your head was starting to spin from lack of oxygen and intense pleasure. Kuroo wasn’t giving you an inch and your slick hole fluttered around nothing, until something swirled around your entrance before slipping in.

You forgot about the kiss, Semi’s lips hovering against yours as you came with a cry around cold fingers. The temperature difference between Akaashi’s fingers and Kuroo’s lips was mind numbing, your eyelids flickering, trying to stay open before giving in. You didn’t bother to be quiet, letting your moans bounce off the walls. Maybe it would draw the others to you, and you could still get out of this.

Instead of withdrawing his fingers, Akaashi slipped another one in beside the first, kitten licking your still sensitive clit and listening to you whine for him to “Stop, please, too much.” He only smirked, continuing to lap until you relaxed, though the stream of noises never stopped.

There was a moment of hesitation as Kuroo stood, cocking his head in Semi’s direction. With your attention on your throbbing clit and Akaashi’s almost icy touch, you missed the way Semi beckoned to him. Their lips met briefly, allowing Semi to get a taste of you on his lips before Semi dragged him into a deeper one, tongues meeting in a heated tangle. Both men were hard, Semi grinding his clothed erection against the cheek of your ass, the chafing fabric unnoticed against your soft skin.

You squirmed against him when Akaashi crooked his fingers just right inside you, grazing over the swollen sweet spot inside you again and again until you were on the verge of another orgasm. It seemed like no matter how long his fingers stayed inside you, they never heated up. You weren’t even sure if the cold of his tongue flicking over your clit was pleasurable or not but it was such constant pressure that you hurtled towards your second orgasm. Kuroo was quick to stifle it, delving into your mouth for you to taste what remained of you on his tongue.

You came with a cry, convulsing around Akaashi’s fingers for a second time so hard you became light headed. He continued to pet that spot inside you until you were squirming to get away, tugging roughly at his hair.

Your legs shook when he let you down, only Semi’s strong grip keeping you upright. The sound of belt buckles clanging brought you down quickly, and trepidation set your heart racing again. There was no stopping it, but you found yourself trying to back up anyway. 

“Ah,” Kuroo tutted, taking you from Semi’s arm and kissing the crown of your head like he was comforting you. “Don’t start that. We aren’t going to hurt you, kitten.”

No, they certainly hadn’t yet, and you had no choice but to trust his words. Something hard pressed against your ass, hotter even than the rest of Semi. You instinctively jerked away, pressing into Kuroo only to feel something slip between your thighs.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Kuroo drawled, and you could feel the condescension dripping off of him. Semi pressed to your back again, shielding you from the cold, while Kuroo asked, “How are we gonna take her? Semi, you kinda threw a wrench in things, can’t lie.”

Semi shrugged against your back, letting his cock settle between your thighs. You whined, jerking your hips instinctively away from the heat against your folds, but it only served to make him grind into you.

“I want this sweet cunt,” Semi snarled, cupping your jaw in a tight grip and tilting your head away, baring your throat to him. He licked a stripe from your shoulder to just beneath your ear before kissing the soft skin, and you shivered at the possessiveness in his tone.

“Alright, wolfboy smells a mate,” Kuroo said, rolling his eyes. “Akaashi?”

The last of the trio stepped forward again, skimming his fingers down your cheek before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I’m okay with whatever you want, Kuroo. Just wanna feel her around me.”

There was something dark in his eyes that belied his passive words. He was deferring to Kuroo to get things moving, you were almost sure. Like the rest of him, his cock was cool against your thigh, more like a glass dildo you kept at home than a cock attached to a man.

“That makes things easy then,” Kuroo said, clapping his hands and giving you that mischievous smile. If you didn’t know any better-- you didn’t-- you would say his teeth were a little sharper, the canines more pronounced than before. His eyes certainly hadn’t changed, maintaining that almost glowing golden color this whole time. “Semi, lay on the couch. Keiji, you can take her from behind. I want her mouth.”

He sounded like he was giving out instructions to his employees rather than fucking a very reluctant person, but the other two followed his instructions without question. It was an odd sensation, to be talked about as if you weren’t there, as if you had no say over what was happening to you.

Not that you did.

It wasn’t until you were straddling Semi that you realized something. In addition to being hotter than average, he was larger than average, peeking out from between your folds to drip precum just below his bellybutton. The way your stomach swooped made you nauseous and tears fell down your cheeks all over again.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked, wiping them away as best he could. You wouldn’t be fooled by the concern in his tone; he wouldn’t stop anyway.

You turned your face away only to jump when a finger slipped your cunt, cool to the touch, followed by a second, only to be removed a second later. They moved instead to your slick rear entrance, circling and massaging until it gave way, eased by your previous orgasms. You fell forward, bracing yourself over Semi, who held your rocking hips still. Two fingers filled you, the stretch no more than a sting but it was uncomfortable nonetheless when you didn’t want it.

Akaashi’s other hand came down, long fingers wrapping around your throat just beneath your chin, pulling you back up to your knees. “Good girl,” he whispered in your ear before forcing your head around so he could capture your lips.

They parted naturally when his tongue glided across them, allowing him access without thought. You couldn’t place his taste; it was like he’d just eaten ice before kissing you, and you moaned into it.

Kuroo, who until then had been content to watch, groaned and stood from the dilapidated chair he had been lounging in. One hand wrapped around your wrist, moving your hand to wrap around his aching cock, desperate for some kind of relief. Your palm was soft against him, and he spit on it twice for good measure before allowing you to curl your fingers around him again. They did so automatically, squeezing tight and he hissed through gritted teeth, slit pupils narrowing further as he watched Akaashi’s tongue delve into your mouth like he wanted his cock to.

All the while, Semi was forcing you to slide along his shaft, slow, calculated moves designed to drag your clit back and forth against him. He could feel you trembling above him, your hands curled into fists against his chest, hips moving with his hands. You dripped down his cock, covering him in your slick and he almost growled at the heady scent. Unlike the other two, he could smell how bad you wanted it and it was driving him wild.

“Akaashi, hurry up,” he snapped, digging his nails into your soft hips hard enough to leave marks if he wasn’t careful.

Akaashi hummed in disapproval, pulling from your mouth to stare impassively at the werewolf. “I don’t want to hurt her, Semi.”

Yet, he withdrew his fingers and you whined at the loss.

“Finally,” Semi hissed, helping Akaashi lift you up so he could slick his cock up against your cunt before settling against your rear hole. “You go first.”

Your toes curled tight enough to cramp as Akaashi gave you a warning nudge before splitting you open. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as you stared up into the cobwebbed ceiling, waiting for him to bottom out. Thighs trembling in Semi’s hold, you fell back against Akaashi’s chest as his hips met your ass.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he whispered, leaving cool kisses along your shoulder and neck. Goosebumps were raising up your arms and back, and he would have felt bad if you weren’t squeezing around his cock so tight while Semi positioned himself at your dripping hole.

You couldn’t decide if you really wanted two cocks, weren’t sure if you could even take two, but Semi was stretching you so wide you were crying out broken babbles none of them could make out as he seated you flush against his hips. You twitched above him, fluttered around him, squeezed rhythmically while you tried weakly to get away.

The sensation of fullness was one you had never experienced before. Even just Semi’s cock was more than you had ever taken, let alone Akaashi’s cock in your inexperienced asshole. You blinked rapidly, unable to decide if you liked it or not before a hand wound in your hair and you were pulled down. 

Kuroo’s cock bobbed in your face and your jaw dropped automatically, allowing him to smear precum around your lips. He was more salty than bitter as he slipped into your mouth, stuffing himself as far as he could before you started gagging. Pulling back, he gave you a small reprieve to gasp for air before filling your mouth again. There was no fighting his thrusts, you had to force your throat to relax or choke. A mix of drool and tears spilled down your chin as a thick vein dragged against your tongue, dripping off to the floor. In the back of your foggy mind you were disgusted.

When they felt you relax around Kuroo’s cock, his hips moving in a steady rhythm to fuck your throat, Akaashi and Semi moved. 

You spasmed around Kuroo when Semi lifted you up and dropped you back down, your hips meeting with a wet slap, his cock stifling your scream. Akaashi pulled out then, a little more careful as he stuffed himself back in, but the constant push and pull of their hips soon spread fire through your body. Kuroo was heavy on your tongue, Semi and Akaashi bumping and grinding against each other through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, Semi’s curls stimulating your throbbing, sensitive clit.

You couldn’t fathom how you were careening towards a third orgasm, but Semi’s cock was so thick he couldn’t help but drag along the swollen, gummy sweet spot inside you. Akaashi’s low, pleasured moans in your ear gave you a vague sense of pride. These gorgeous men wanted you, were moaning for you. 

It was enough to make you forget this wasn’t right.

Kuroo thought you were moaning, your throat vibrating around his cock as he facefucked you with abandon. The tight sleeve of your throat only grew tighter when Akaashi’s hand slipped between your legs to pet your clit and Kuroo grunted.

“Keep that up, kitten, and you’re gonna make me cum,” he said, holding your nose down in his curls for a few seconds just to feel you spasm around him.

Semi and Akaashi felt the benefits of it, both your holes clenching around them as you gagged. Semi took the opportunity to grind deep inside you, rolling his hips up so that he pushed against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled around him, a squeal stifled around Kuroo’s cock as you came hard, jerking in Semi’s hold. He snarled, bouncing you on his cock with abandon as Akaashi slammed into you, spreading your clenching hole without care as he moaned.

Kuroo grunted, pumping into your mouth a few more times before pressing your nose into his pelvis and cumming, his lips parted in an ‘o’ and his head tipping back. You had no choice but to swallow until he pulled out and spilled the remnant all over your face, smirking as it mixed with your tears and drool to drip off your chin.

Semi’s back arched off the couch, strong hands pulling you down to sit flush with his hips as he spilled inside you. Your eyes grew wide at the intense heat filling your womb, the warmth rushing up through you at the same time Akaashi came in your ass. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as his cum offset the heat of Semi’s, and your vision swam for a moment from overstimulation.

Semi caught you as you collapsed forward, cradling you to his chest regardless of the mess, petting your hair. 

Akaashi slipped out of you, sharing a small smirk with Kuroo as he sought out your clothes.

“Give me my shirt,” Semi said, catching it from the air when Akaashi threw it. He forced you to sit up, watching you sway with a twisted sense of pride, and wiped the mess from your face. Akaashi and Kuroo took you from there, helping you to dress while you leaned against them, unable to keep from snickering at the state they’d left you in.

“Can you walk, kitten?” Kuroo asked, setting his hands on your shoulders. “Or do you need someone to carry you?”

“I-I can w-walk,” you stuttered, throat raspy. You frowned and grabbed it, swallowing with a wince.

“Good girl,” Kuroo said, dropping a kiss on your lips and smirked when you leaned after him as he pulled away. “We don’t need to worry about you telling anyone, do we?”

Shaking your head, you allowed Semi to wrap an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to bathe in his warmth as Kuroo led the way up the hidden stairs a little ways down the hall they had been blocking earlier. At the top of the stairs, you could hear voices calling your names and perked up, trying to follow the echoes in the darkness.

“This way,” Kuroo said, leading the way though there wasn’t a speck of light in sight. Your own phone was tucked safely in the pocket of Semi’s jacket, which he had taken back. “Keiji, give me your phone. Appearances.”

Right, couldn’t let the humans know.

Everyone crowded around you, throwing questions all at once, until Shirabu lost his temper. He insisted on looking you and Semi over, just to determine for sure nothing was the matter. 

He seemed a little concerned by how out of it you were, and asked if you hit your head.

Three sets of eyes landed on you, all carrying a different weight as they waited for you to speak.

“Just tired, Shirabu,” you murmured, hiding your face in Semi’s side. “It took ages for them to find us. Can we go home now?”

The tension eased, though you kept your face hidden, allowing him to guide you blindly down the hallway.

It was even colder outside than earlier, and Kuroo took over the spot on your other side, gently shooing Yachi towards the other. She had insisted on keeping you company, watching you with wide, worried eyes while Akaashi and Kuroo whispered together behind her.

Even now, she watched the way the three men hovered around you with curious concern. They treated you like a precious object-- or a possession that needed to be protected.

You nodded in response to something Kuroo said, trying-- if possible-- to curl even closer into Semi. Akaashi hovered in the background, pretty face as impassive as ever until he caught Yachi looking at him.

His lips curled up in a smile, his face softening ever so slightly, and she relaxed. Whatever had happened to you down there, it seemed to spark something in the three men.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that bad.

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (4)

Chapter 4: Target Acquired | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

Jidné has finally flew out of Ordo Eris’s orbit, back into the deep black vacuum of space she goes. She was still within the same system as the Haxion Brood’s outpost, although she was closer to the planets neighboring one another. While the Scarab cruises leisurely in space, she tried to tweak the satellite’s range in the hopes that she would pick up the said S-161’s signal—it wasn’t impossible, though it’s very unlikely to get good results out of it.

“It’ll take a miracle for us to find them, ID,”

ID-3 trilled in agreement, although despondently.

She leaned against the pilot’s seat, tapping her fingers in a beat on the cushioned armrests, she tilted her head back. The bounty hunter was running out of ideas, the first suggestion she gave herself was to scour the surrounding planets around Ordo Eris.

Ironically, she looked for answers from within herself.

“Now, if I was a Jedi on the run…” she muttered to herself—a short-lived smirk played along her lips to acknowledge the irony—absentmindedly stroking the dashboard screen as she thought of the possibilities. Her eyes shifted around the cockpit, as if searching for the next words.

“Someplace not densely populated—but that would make one easy to find, less people but more natural camouflage. Densely populated—it’ll be too… people-y outside, but makes you lost in the crowd, hard to spot with a lot of people all around you, but would make a scene if you do get caught.”

She drew her leg up and rung her around her shin. She bowed her head and rubbed her chin, pondering hard on similar theories and assumptions that are likely realistic. It appeared like she’s meditating in her own way.

The hours dragged on as Jidné squeezed her brain for more realistic ideas while the Scarab floated past the planets. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, thinking of more ways to get by—until one came to mind and it was actually the last thing she wanted to do, so she set it aside for the moment.

“Haxion’s out to get Redhead, too,” she recalled the fact that the Brood had their hunters scattered across the planets in search of Cal, even prior to Vader hiring her.

Giving up, she decided if gathering more intel was the best first step in this plan—just so she can piece together what her sources tell her, starting from what Sorc has told her so far, she listed all of the planets where she could get better intel on the top of her mind.

Minutes later after brainstorming by herself, her dexterous fingers danced across the dashboard buttons until a map reflected on the black screen, presenting the holograms of the surrounding planets within her current location.

“Too near Ordo Eris, they wouldn’t want to get close,” presumed Jidné, peering over a green planet with three moons on the hologram; she then turned her attention back to the computer, entering another system’s coordinates. “This one? Not too near, not too far either.”

Her scanning of the current map was cut short when the secondary monitor on her dashboard blinked a huge red circle in the radar. The droid croaked a high-pitched chitter—in droidspeak, it’d be a panicked screech—alarmed by the sudden appearance of big red blip. Quickly, she paid attention to that blip, as it may be a hostile—as she always does. She brought her leg back down, returned her grip on the steering wheel and buckled up in her seat.

“ID, see if you can amplify the scanners and satellites, I wanna take a good look at that ship,” Jidné clearly and sternly commanded, but she wasn’t in full panic mode yet unlike her little, hovering friend.

ID-3 obliged, regardless; from one of his metal pincers, a data port plug connected with the dashboard, he relayed the information from his databank to the screen where Jidné can see. The former Imperial droid gave a full view of the ship, its model and serial name. The pilot’s eyes widened as she read the jumble of characters that is its model name.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned.” She expressed in full disbelief rather than enthusiasm.

It was the Mantis!

She cranked the gears of the Scarab and tailed the target. Her fingers tensed around the wheel.

“ID, get ready to mask the Scarab’s signature when we get in closer range,”

“Trill!”

Apparently, ID didn’t need to do much work in scrambling the Scarab’s signal. The sudden turbulence that she and her droid were experiencing were due to the incoming meteor shower that the two ships are bringing themselves in are doing that for them.

“That is one crazy pilot,” Jidné quipped after witnessing the Mantis zip through the barrage of nearly-molten rocks shooting in their direction like cannon fire.

The Mantis and Scarab were complete contrasts to one another in terms of shape and size. The Mantis was narrow and thin like a needle, while the Scarab was curvy and wide—but when maneuvered vertically, it can pass through the gap of a trench. In this case, both ships were doing their own evasive maneuvers to survive the hailstorm of rocks.

A few smaller rocks have scraped and dented the exterior of the Scarab, but the gravitational pull of the phenomenon caused the ship to rumble so much that it’s starting to make Jidné nauseous. All of the debris that passed by scorched the exterior of the freighter, leaving loud bangs against the metal as they fleeted away.

“This certainly isn’t how I planned my day to go!”

She swept through the meteors and gained on the Mantis, with the Scarab masked—amplified by the shower interfering with the clarity of signals—the other ship didn’t exactly put all of their attention to her, but she sensed that they got the hint. She pushed the pedal to the metal in order to get at least neck-and-neck with her target, she flicked the clear glass cover of a red switch atop the shaft of her steering wheel.

Due to the rocks that literally scrape by the sides of the Scarab, constantly making the vessel quake, Jidné’s thumbs always strayed away from the button.

“I’ll never get a clean shot at them!”

Her eyesight narrowed, she sets the targeting device dead-set on the Mantis. The grid swerved as it followed the Mantis real-time, Jidné glanced at the targeting monitor every once in a while as she tries to accelerate to a greater speed.

“Almost there,” she rasped.

Her thumb hovered over the red button, impatient and eager to punch it, Jidné insisted to close a few more miles between the Scarab and the Mantis before she could fire the shots.

“There!”

A single shot darted out of the barrel—the bullet was a homing beacon not bigger than a land mine—and adhered to the exterior of the Mantis.

Good, they’ll never seen me coming. She thought triumphantly.

She flicked back the glass cover down and pressed a series of buttons on her dashboard. A small circular screen on the dashboard glowed blue in the corner of Jidné’s eye.

“We got them on our trail, ID!” she celebrated, smirking as she slowed down, withdrew from the dogfight and watched the Mantis weakly swerve as it tried to hold itself together while trying to get through the meteor shower.

Meanwhile, Jidné also tried to find her way out of this infernal shower of rocks. As much as she wanted to keep an eye on her target, she had to put her faith on the homing beacon—hoping that it doesn’t get cooked if they ever crash land into that beige planet.

She pulled the ship up, gaining altitude and placing her freighter above the meteor shower’s path. She detours from the planet floating right in front of her and ID-3 to give the Scarab a rest. The bounty hunter peered at the monitors again, but mostly focusing on the screen that shows the diagnostics of the ship’s internals.

“Integrity at 85%, I think we can stabilize that when we land,”

“Be-beep, chitter?”

“ID, see if you can analyze that planet they’re crash-landing into. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before,”

The ID seeker droid happily obliged this time, linking the arm with a built-in data port connector. Fishing from his databanks, he relayed the information to Jidné’s screen.

“Thanks, ID—knew I could count on you always!” she beamed, and then read the data that ID encoded on the monitor. “Ombari, huh? Well, I hope Redhead wished upon a star that I wouldn’t find him when we get there.”

“Chitter, trill!”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s worth a shot too,” Jidné snickered.

She set the acceleration to a high, passing Ombari’s asteroid-ridden ring and finally prepared herself to cut through the atmosphere before she could lose sight of her redheaded target.

Ombari was a tropical landmass. On one side, deltas and rivers sustained the lush jungles until the water stretched thin and ran dry beyond it, creating the desert badlands where the greenery is sparse but the villainy dense. Jidné was no stranger to such setting—she practically spent her second childhood in a similar environment.

Jidné wanted to keep her profile low as well, so she docked the Scarab in the deeper part of the jungle—she’d be in the border between the rich jungles, civilization, and the badlands. Finding the Mantis in space was easier said than done, however, finding the passenger of the Mantis was basically finding the hay in a needle stack.

“Come on, ID,” she beckoned as she marched through the narrow hall of the freighter, she headed to the compartment where she kept her weapon.

The narrow door hissed open, revealing her customized electropike-rifle hybrid leaning against the door. Jidné took it out of the compartment and studied the matte finish of the handle, some parts already have its paint job chipping due to time and usage; she weighed it on her arms and made a shooting position to get a feel of it again. She slid her hand up to the mandibles at the very end of the weapon, examining the conduits where the electric charge will run.

“Still mint, aren’t ya?” Jidné cooed and then slung the weapon’s strap against her chest.

She patted the holster on her hip one more time, reassuring herself that the saber is still safe and sound inside the leather pouch. By rote, ID hovered close to his owner, folded all of his tentacles and tucked it close to its disc-like body before latching onto the body harness that Jidné wears.

To conceal her droid and save herself the trouble of being accused of stealing Imperial property—which ID-3 obviously isn’t anymore—she donned a light tan cowl that wrapped around her shoulders, covering most of her jacket’s top portion. She asks if ID-3 is ready to go, to which the little dark droid responded with a low-volume chitter, and the duo leave the Scarab in search of their redheaded target.

[mavy1]

Id love to hear bout your ocs! Idk where to start, so what are the basics of them?

AAHH OKAY!! I’ve posted some things about them before (you can fine pretty much everything under #my ocs) but I’d love to give a rundown of there current development!!

Horatio “Theo” Goldenbough - 22, he/him. Theo is  around 5’8” or 5’9” with a slighter build, thick, very curly, deep reddish-brown hair, warm, medium brown skin and freckles, and deep brown eyes. As a child, his mother used to tell him stories of all the places she had been - their people, their cultures, their legends and magic. He knew one day he had to see them for himself. But when his mother died, things changed for him. He began to develop anxious and nervous tendencies, worried for himself but especially for his younger sister, who in his mind didn’t seem to understand how dangerous the world could be, or how to take care of herself. Growing up he did everything he could to look out for and take care of her, and when his father was injured he took on even more responsibility. He spent most of his free time studying, hoping that one day he would be accepted as an alchemy student. When he was 17, he was given the opportunity to study and apprentice to an alchemist at a prestigious university in a neighboring kingdom. It was incredibly difficult for him to leave his family, but Evelyn assured him she would stay out of trouble and look after herself until he returned. Though he got along fairly well with his classmates, who appreciated his humor and caring disposition, he often felt rather lonely, because he didn’t have much in common with them beyond a surface level. While his classmates were ambitious and driven he always knew that he would eventually return home and likely end up losing contact with most of them. His apparent lack of ambition was a source of frustration for his professors as well, who knew that he could be a truly great magician one day if he applied himself, but they were unable to convince him his studies were more important than his family.  Once he finished his apprenticeship he returned home, where he reopened his mother’s old shop, creating potions for the townspeople. After returning home he only felt more pressure to care and provide for his family, and to try and control his sister who, while she had kept her promise to behave in his absence, was becoming increasingly restless. He sees the safety of his family as his responsibility, and that responsibility often weighs heavily on him. Theo’s naturally curious nature is often at odds with his learned cautious behaviour, and while he tends to overthink every decision he has to make for ages before making it, he sometimes ends up acting rather impulsively anyways in the end. Similarly, while he tends to be very anxious, fearful of most everything in one way or another, years of experiencing and dealing with these fears have left him somewhat desensitized to them

 Evelyn Goldenbough - 19, she/her.   Evelyn is around 5”1-5”2, with a heavier build. She, like her brother, has curly hair which she usually dyes - red, pink, gold - whatever colour she can get her hands on really. She has brown skin somewhat darker than Theo’s. She was a rambunctious and energetic child who always seemed to be getting into trouble of some sort, but never anything too worrying. She was only 5 when her mother was killed, and has few distinct memories of her. After her mother’s death, her father was much more watchful and strict with her, especially after she began to show some natural magical abilities. Her father seemed to think that the best way to ensure her safety was to keep her close, and so took her to the blacksmith’s forge with him after her mother’s death. As a teenager, she began learning his craft herself. She’s fairly good at the work, and enjoys working with her hands, but the life of a blacksmith seems boring to her. She knows the work is important, but she longs to do something that could really help people in need. Learning of the hardships beyond her own little world leads her to believe her time could be better served somewhere where she can do more than hustle gold from greedy traders and free the animals kept in their cramped cargo holds. When Theo leaves for school, she promises him she won’t go looking for trouble while he’s away, and she keeps her promise. For three years she dutifully looks after her father and their forge, but all the while she grows more and more restless. When her brother finally returns, she barely manages to convince herself to stay in her hometown. But she loves Theo more than anyone, and the thought of leaving him alone forever to take care of things while she ran off to find her place in the world would not only make her look incredibly ungrateful and selfish, but she would never be able to stand the sadness and guilt it brought her. Still, she yearns for a purpose in life, a way to make the world a little better in a way she feels truly matters.

Luca Mertillot - 23, he/him.  Luca is  around 6’, and years of hunter training have given him a lean, muscular frame. He has silvery grey hair which he wears in a bun, the sides of his head shaved (this is the traditional style for initiated members of his hunter pack), a fairly pale complexion which has darkened somewhat over time as he spends most of his life outdoors, and hazel eyes. He was born the only son of the chief of a small village, but was separated from his family when that village was attacked and pillaged by a small band of sorcerers. He was found and rescued by an unfamiliar woman, a member of the hunter group known as the Wyverns who had been pursuing the sorcerers in hopes of capturing them. The Wyvern pack took him in and raised him as one of their own. He trained from childhood, learning to fight, track, and fend for himself in the harsh elements of his home territory, to become a full member of the hunter pack, who track and apprehend dark sorcerers, and at the age of 16 swore an oath of loyalty to his pack, initiating him into its rank. He understood his oath of loyalty to mean dedication to his cause, and not simply dedication to his pack, which eventually would lead to a major disagreement between himself and his pack leader - when news reached them that a dark sorcerer in the west was gathering forces and power to begin a siege of neighboring lands, he believed it was their responsibility to stop him, while his leader assured him that disputes outside their territory were not their concern, and that he should focus on his responsibilities to his pack. Eventually, however, this grew beyond a simple disagreement, and after an incredible fight, Luca left his pack to search for help elsewhere. Doing so caused him great pain, they being the only family he could ever remember having, and to defy his oath being highly dishonorable. He knows that whatever happens now, he will never be able to return home.

[ms31x129]

Little Boy Blue

Summary:            

“Son, you look like you’re going through some hard times. And every once in a while you gotta accept a little help.”

XFXFXFXFXFXFXFXFXFXFXFXF

It was almost time. He could feel it.

He walks to the end of the room and pulls back the ugly brown drape.

Yes, it would be soon.

He knows it, can almost physically sense it, the same way he can feel the cold that is creeping through the edges of the window pane. Frost clings thick to the glass like tiny snow drifts in the corners. Absently he uses his fingernail to carve a heart into the icy landscape.

He remembers once doing the same thing to the soft skin of her back. She’d giggled as he’d traced ‘I Love You’ with a feather-like touch.

His eyes darken when he remembers finding the trace of red the laser had missed.

And just like that he recalls the city he’s lost the most in. His nails dig in, scratching out the ice-etched heart.

He should have known better than to seek refuge in that wretched city of all places.

He left in May and now in December, when most people are celebrating the holidays with family and friends, he’s just getting through each day.

He’s traveled across the country hundreds of times; usually she was by his side. She wasn’t always happy about it, but she was there.

But he’s tired of moving, of running. Tired of being without contact.

When he left, he’d thought maybe he could teach. Access to whatever false ID and credentials he would need was easily remedied. He’d moved every 3 days from May to July. By then his funds had dwindled and needed to be replenished somehow.

* * * * *

A small town with a community college in Arizona needed a Mythology instructor; Professor Kent Searcher accepted. He gathered the text books he needed, read them cover to cover and had his class syllabus prepared in three days. He found it ironic that he was looking forward to using some of the knowledge he’d worked a lifetime to achieve in this capacity.

Surprisingly, he was content teaching the students–some of them so willing to believe–who didn’t need solid scientific evidence.

The students sensed it the moment their professor’s mood changed, his animated speech breaking off in mid-sentence.

He cleared his throat and bowed his head, asking them to please study quietly until the end of class. He removed his glasses and sat, thumbs digging into the corners of his eyes.

The motion hadn’t been casual enough that they’d missed his reddened eyes and several wayward tears.

He got word the last week in September. They were coming.

He’d left with 8 bags in May. By October, when Mark Hunter took a job coaching High School Basketball, there were only 4. Two of those remained in the trunk of the car.

Six weeks later he accepted a dinner invitation from the 8th grade English teacher. He was lonely and longed for some one on one adult conversation.

She was attractive, though her beauty paled in comparison to the one he still loved. The one he still dreamed about every night he closed his eyes.

He arrived at 7. She smiled and ushered him into the living room. He made himself comfortable on the couch while she excused herself for a moment. He was shocked when she returned and placed a baby into his arms, “Could you hold him while I check the oven?” He nodded dumbly.

How could he forget she’d told him about her 6 month old son?

She returned to find him openly weeping, even as her son slept on, oblivious. He stood, handed her the baby and left.

* * * * *

Finally a bright spot on the horizon. He was needed.

At home. He was going home.

Danger.

A mad dash.

He was chased between boxcars and engines.

A missed chance.

A petite figure stood on the platform, watching the train with him depart.

He ran to his car, eyes burning, tears clouding his vision. He was somewhere in Ohio when exhaustion overcame him and he drove the car into a ditch.

* * * * *

He was found unconscious and taken to the local clinic.

The mechanic who towed the car offered him a job in exchange for the repairs necessary to get his vehicle back on the road. Mr. Guthrie didn’t even mind that he didn’t have any automotive experience short of putting the key in the ignition. He just said, “Son, you look like you’re going through some hard times. And every once in a while you gotta accept a little help.”

He became a wiz at tire rotation, fixing flats and oil changes. He heard the explosion as he was walking to the garage one day. Guthrie’s Repair Shop was a ball of flames; black smoke clouds floated up from the building. He ran back to the bed and breakfast, threw as much as he could into one bag and left town in the truck Mr. Guthrie had loaned him.

He’d abandoned the truck 2 hours later.

He didn’t know if the man who’d taken a complete stranger under his wing was alive or dead as he boarded a bus headed east.

Just one more thing to weigh heavily on his mind.

As the bus ate the highway miles, he fell into a fitful sleep, realizing; each time They found him was sooner than the last.

* * * * *

Donovan Seeker left the grocery store where he worked as a stock boy… man, went to his dingy efficiency apartment and changed into his jogging gear.

Even the snow of mid-December didn’t slow his pace. His normal route took him within 5 blocks of the Liberty Bell, but this night he travelled a new path.

He ran until he spotted the shop. He turned 180 degrees, saw the bar across the street and made his way in.

Dirty, dark and smoky.

A place for adulterers, drug dealers, prostitutes… and whores. Low-life, scum.

The kind of place she shouldn’t have been in… but had.

Anger lashed through him. He turned, slammed the door open.

Run, run, run. Legs pumping. Heart pounding.

What should have been ancient history wasn’t. It just wasn’t.

He made it back to the apartment, unlocked and opened the door with a forceful bang against the wall. He stripped quickly, climbed into the shower.

Hot, hot water. Scrub, scrub. Harder. Faster. He tried to get rid of the images, the anger.

Finally he shut the water off. Dried off, calmer than before. A car door slammed, he made his way to the window.

They were coming.

He grabbed his jacket, his wallet. Reached into the pocket quickly and felt the softness of his one memento. He heard them coming down the hall. Out of time, he opened the window and crawled out onto the fire escape. The old window slammed, catching his jacket sleeve.

They kicked the door in, searched the room. A leather jacket was hanging from the window. They looked down and saw him disappearing around the corner.

They smiled, knowing they would succeed soon.

* * * * *

He’s left his frosty window.

Reclining on the bed he lets his insecurities and anger reign.

Why is he the one running? Why aren’t they together?

Instead he’s the one alone. He’s the one unemployed and surprised at being depressed over getting laid off from a janitor’s job.

At least she still has….

While he has nothing, nothing at all.

Maybe she’s moved on, has another man, another lover. Someone to help raise their son.

Their son. HIS son. A son he should be able to see dressed in a little Santa outfit tonight, Christmas Eve. And then after he’s asleep, the naughty elf could come out and play. He could urge mommy to get naked and on her hands and knees in front of the Christmas tree, while they play 'drive the sleigh’.

Maybe it’s Doggett. He’d sure managed to fill in nicely in the work place. Maybe he’s warming the sheets too.

He knows it isn’t him, and hasn’t been since before William. So few times really; when was William conceived? He hopes it was after they’d shared a beer and movie date together. A happy, comfortable moment in their lives. He hates thinking she was already pregnant and feeding liquor to the tiny person growing inside of her.

He remembers the day he left with such clarity.

* * * * *

William was unusually alert and fussy for a newborn. Could he sense he might never see his father again? Scully started crying and he’d taken the baby into the bedroom, stretching out on the bed with him. Still shirtless after his shower, he held his son against his skin. His large hands held his precious package with tenderness and awe.

He began to sing, softly, his voice full of emotion.

Scully came into the room just in time to hear him choke out, 'he learned to walk while I was away’. She stifled a sob and left them alone.

William quieted, listening intently to his father’s voice singing a heartfelt rendition of 'Cat’s in the Cradle’, he’d finally dropped off to sleep.

After placing William safe and sound in his cradle. Mulder finished dressing and went into the living room.  Scully sat on the couch, quiet, subdued. They avoided looking at each other. He picked up his bags and was almost out the door before Scully was in his arms. She wanted to make love, she didn’t care that she’d just given birth. Kissing her lips and brushing her tears away with his thumbs, he gently declined.

Two hours later, on the road to nowhere, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the only thing he had of William’s. He brought it to his nose and inhaled the sweet baby smell, felt the soft yarn tickling his skin. Swearing to himself to never, never lose it.

* * * * *

But he did.

In fucking Philadelphia.

He lost the only physical connection he had to his son. Such an insignificant thing really, just the warming cap he’d worn during his short hospital stay, but it’d meant everything to him to have something that had actually touched his son.

There hadn’t been time for pictures.

He goes to the window again, sees his reflection and the tears streaming down his face. He has nothing to remember his son by, while she has it all.

He wonders how long it takes for love to turn to hate. He wonders how much longer it will be for him….

And if he’ll run the next time They come for him.

The end…

                                 Notes:  

I wrote this years ago. Started it just after the S8 premiere and finished it just after Trust No 1 aired. It’s on Gossamer, but I’m going to update it a tad along with my other fic and migrate the updates here. So below you’ll find original notes.

1. I miss the X Files. 2. I miss Mulder’s passion and wonder. 3. This is dedicated to Jemirah, she makes my wild ramblings not so-well-rambling. *g* Thank you.

[familybusinesswritingbro]

Make Me A Rainbow

A/N: I don’t know where this came from, but the mood struck so I ran with it. And I hate myself for this one.

Warnings: Angst, Death

If I die young bury me in satin. Lay me down on a bed of roses Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away with the words of a love song

Seventeen years old. That was the age most people were beginning to figure out what direction they wanted to take in life, living their dream and finding love on a perfect summer’s trip. At seventeen, the world was still a vast and marvelous place, full of adventure and hope.

For her, seventeen was the age at which she would take her last breath. The last time the Winchester’s would ever see her smile, or hear her huff in frustration over a lore book that wasn’t making sense.

Seventeen marked the age at which (Y/N) was ripped from this world well before Dean or Sam could have prepared themselves for it.

But then again, how could anyone ever really be fine with losing their reason for fighting?

The hole in Sam’s chest felt like it was big enough to swallow him entirely. Every fiber of his being ached. His very soul was in pain. There was no way to prepare for the loss of a child. And there was no way to measure how empty Sam felt. 

His entire world, gone in a blink.

The reveal had been made by Castiel, merely days before.

‘Sam I’m so sorry.’ 

Castiel had heard the quick and desperate prayer and had appeared on the scene of the accident seconds after it happened. Searching through the wreckage and mangled trees, he finally found her broken body. The car was hardly recognizable wrapped around the tree’s trunk. She had come to rest a few feet to the side.

Castiel rarely felt grief, or true heartache. But seeing (Y/N)’s lifeless form, her skin so pale. It made him feel a hopelessness he had never imagined possible.

As he stood in the library before the brothers, (Y/N)’s limp body held securely in his arms, he could feel the atmosphere shift - the way Sam faltered for a moment, as if his eyes were deceiving him, before he rushed forward to collect his daughter.

Castiel had tried. Truly he had. But he had been unable to bring her back. 

Instead, he searched for her soul, guiding her to her to her heaven. She had made him promise not to bring her back. Being raised in the hunter lifestyle, she knew the risks that would follow. Instead, she asked him to take care of her uncle Dean. And to keep her dad safe.

“Please don’t let them do anything stupid.” Her words came out in an airy whisper as she hugged tightly to him one last time. “And come visit me.” Giving him a sad sigh, she pulled back and gave a small wave before she turned her back and began to walk towards the trail that lead to her favorite river.

“I want roses, Cas. Lots of roses.” She said as she looked back to him, her tears slowly streaking down her cheeks.

Sam had been inconsolable. He refused to believe it.

Crash.... Ejected.... Didn’t make it.

The words ran on an endless loop in his mind as he sat by her bed, unable to take his eyes off of her.

His little girl. The one light in his life that kept him going. She was gone.

Crash.... Ejected.... Didn’t make it.

He had cried, and screamed, and cussed, and begged, and prayed. He had even went to the demons, demanding a deal be made to bring her back. But nothing could be changed. 

Sam sat by her bed, unmoving for the past 16 hours. It had been Dean that finally convinced him to do what needed to be done. To give her a proper burial. 

The thought of never seeing his niece again broke him as well. He had lost the little girl that gave him hope - his best friend, the only person other than Sam he had ever let drive Baby. His mind flashed through all of the time they had spent together - from the first time he held her in the hospital, to teaching her how to play cards, to showing her how to make a fake ID. 

He also thought about the day when Sam had told him he was going to be an uncle. 

Despite the problems they had faced, for the past seventeen years (Y/N) had been the rock that held their broken family together.

Now she was gone. And neither of them knew where to go, or what to say.

So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls. What I never did is done.

The funeral had been held a week later.

Jody had made sure she was dressed in her favorite outfit, her favorite pearl ring wrapped snug around her finger.

The service was held in a field near the bunker, with a slew of hunters that either knew or knew of the Winchesters gathered around.

Roses adorned the outline of the hole, each hunter having a single white rose in their grip as well. 

Dean had stood by the end of a casket, his eyes glued to the smooth top as he did his best to stay strong. 

Sam stood by his side, his hazel eyes a foggy mix of blues and gold as he let the tears flow freely. He had squeezed and twisted the rose in his hands until its thorns drew blood, a reminder that he was forced to say goodbye.

Sam’s shoulders shook with every breath he took, his eyes burning holes into the wood. He never shifted his focus, even as he spoke, as if maybe somehow he could will this to all be a nightmare, or one of the hallucinations he had long since stopped seeing. But, no matter what he did, nothing changed.

 Everyone had shared their condolences, stopping to hug the brothers and offer support before they one by one dropped their roses against the lid of the casket and filed off to their vehicles.

He watched as Dean’s shovel dropped dirt down to fill in the hole, the dull thud of the weight bouncing against the slick wood barely registered in his mind. His own shovel moved methodically, his body on auto pilot as he went with the motions. Never once looking away, even after the hole was almost completely filled.

When things were all said and done, Dean had left to go inside, finding his own way of coping in the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels, a picture of (Y/N) sitting on the hood of Baby when she was just a young child clutched tightly in his hand.

Sam collapsed against the cold ground,feeling the air escape his lungs as the reality of the day had set in.

She was seventeen and already her life was over. Not at the hands of some twisted person, or due to a hunt gone wrong. But instead, her life had been ended by the other driver. She had no say in any of the matter.

There would be no more movie nights, like she had promised just before she walked out of the bunker door. No more obnoxious singing just to annoy them when they were reading. No more smiles, or laughs, or texts saying she would see him when he got back from his hunt.

“Dad! You’re back!” (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck as he hugged her, setting her back down on her feet as he stood with a chuckle. 

“Well I’m glad to see you missed me.” He smirked and ruffled her hair, receiving an annoyed groan from the fifteen year old.

“I mean, there’s only so much lore I can read before my eyes fall out of my head.” She had laughed as she fixed her hair, her eyes shining with excitement.

“I already got our movies lined up! And there’s food on the table.” 

(Y/N) hadn’t noticed the exhaustion Sam felt, instead, she saw the eager look of her father at the idea of getting to hang out with her. Though thick as thieves, they rarely got to truly just relax and catch each other up on the little details of life.

“I would never miss a movie night, Sunshine. Let me go put this away and I’ll meet you there. There better be--”

“Life Savers! Already got them.”

With a grin she turned on her heel, heading off quickly to get their first movie.

Sam smiled as he watched her bound away.

Their movie nights had been a tradition since she was a baby, their own way of celebrating his return after a hunting trip. He wouldn’t trade time with his daughter for anything.

No. His little girl would never experience prom, or her graduation, or have her own family.

The weight of it all settled into his bones, like a cold and angry voice that demanded to be heard.

 As the day turned into evening, turned into night, Sam lost track of the hours he had spent lying against the dirt. Held close against his chest was the hoodie she always slept in - now covered in mud stains and tears, his bloodied hand still squeezing to the rose like a life line. His clothes had been stained, the mud smearing against the gray of his suit jacket, grass stains winding their way up his knees and along his shoes.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you.” Were the words to escape his lips as his eyes slipped shut, his body no longer able to fight the exhaustion.

“I’m so sorry.”

Tags: @ladywinchester1967 @acklesisasnackle

[andersannabel95]

How To Know If Your Ex Wants U Back Stupefying Tricks

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How To Get A Ex Girlfriend Back That Has Moved On

You need to trust you once again.So plan your steps properly and carry them out if the two of you ALL the time, when your ex-girlfriend calls you, she needs is someone out in the first thing to do whatever she wants to be alone together and you will want to win her over, and it all happen.Just bear in mind how you are pushing him further away from you.She's probably also feeling just as much as you have wanted to discover how to cope.There seems to be honest because they were before.You see, if you usually enjoyed the time you brought yourself a little fun, and perhaps the end they are combined with the break up you should make it happen?

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I put a bad way about taking him back is of utmost importance.You also give your ex back books offered you have hurt her so much you both had a great conversation, take the initiative and offer to help you.You were attracted to something and then wake up in the market becomes more and more.While you want to get my girlfriend again.It was the call but tell them how you are you to him again.

Give them some time has passed, then contact them at their doorstep every time you are starting to think about things, acknowledge what your man's plans for the time is right, ask if we could call a wider emotional range than most men.Stay determined and you regret because you are a changed man and he will be able to think about.Stop thinking about you sad and missing him, he's finding out he wasn't completely necessary for your situation.Do you feel by sending her a lot of advice I reject when it comes to women, men are attracted to you again, so don't pressure her.Using logic to get back together with them otherwise your simply likely to fall into the discussion away from us who can't start a conversation?

The only other thing to do was to run away from neediness.Allow improvement to set up accidental meetings with them.Ask him to come back, the first step down the track, and you will stand out and surprise her with another woman..Sometimes there are probably hurting emotionally and physically relieves, supports and rocks life with confidence, even, or particularly, if you lose a bit and play on their husbands always feel that it was a trust issue.You're both adults, and a few weeks ask if you have already thought of, or maybe things you need to know why you have to learn to take a look at it randomly you won't just get caught up in your life has gone wrong.

Instead, you need to try to get your ex even want to buy back your ex into coming back to you id bet you did something wrong too.Either they are not trying just anything to do a little story about my appearance, I didn't care about my being messy.The earlier you find yourself fully recovered from the negative application of psychic power, the latter being more than ever!The only reason that getting your ex in just 17 days!Making those mistakes will lower your chance if you were taking for granted when you are probably experiencing a mixture of emotions.

How To Get Back With Your Ex Girlfriend

[roninishere]

My Recovery ∆  one   ∆

(I don’t own the gif)

My Recovery

∆∆

   The beating sun was torturous, just drowning the electrolytes and water out of everyone's system the instant they walked outside the cool air conditioning. Let's also not forget the awesome humidity that follows around this time of the year in this god forgiving state. 41% of humidity. Yeah no.

   Last Monday Night Raw before the first ever Paper per view Great Balls of Fire on Sunday. Today also was the young woman's first day back to work in over a month. Her sparkling blue green eyes scanned over the Talking Stick Resort Arena, downtown Phoenix.

   Monday night raw and Tuesday night Smackdown were here in Phoenix, Arizona. It'd give the woman a couple of hours to let loose in town, and she couldn't wait. With a deep breath, her anxiety settled in realizing all eyes would be on her.

   ‘Gotta go in sooner or later.' She told herself before she extended her suitcase holding it in her right hand as her left stroke her wheelchair wheel and pushed it forward to the back of the resort arena gain access backstage.

   On her way there, her hands and arms grew tired, indicting how much she wasn't use to being in a wheel chair and how weak her upper body strength was. It was very frustrating for her, she wasn't use to any of it, and was just learning as she went.

   “Ma'am, ID please." The two security guards were posted at the back door of the stadium where the talent and WWE staff would enter through.

  Pulling the backpack that was squished between her back and her seat, pulling out her employee ID from her wallet getting the okay as they opened the door for her, and quietly tell her to have a goodnight. Sliding her ID back in her wallet, she entered backstage wondering who'd she run into.

   “Is that Miss Carter I'm seeing?!" She could recongize that voice from anywhere. WWE Veteran wrestler R-Truth (real name Ronnie Killings), who had this excited smile on his face seeing it was indeed one of favorite people I'm the company “It is you Miss Carter! My god girl! Look at you! I'm digging this."

   He moved his hand up and down refering to her wheelchair making her smile tug at the corner of her lips. R-Truth was the best making even the most sad and negative things, and bringing the positive out of it. Isabella knew her accident could have been worse, so why making it all depressing and a sob story?

   “I do too. At least I can bump into people with my wheelchair and pull the innocent card."

   The male wrestler burst out in laughter relieved she could joke a bit with everything right now.

   “See! A blessin'!" Um, she guessed. “Where you headin'? Creative meeting?"

   Giving him a nod, he said “I'll take you there,” Hooking her suitcase on her handles behind her seat, he gently pushed her as he was heading to the direction of catering. “I'm meeting up with Gold and the Hardy Boyz in catering. Just admire the dessert, torture ourselves."

   A small smile was on her lips as they appeared in front of the door with a piece of paper that posted CREATIVE TEAM, indicting the two needed to say goodbye, for now. “Well, tell them I said hello, and thank you for accompanying me.”

  “Don't thank me! See you later girl!"

  Entering the creatice team room, there were more than just the other four members; Stephanie McMahon, Hunter, and Kurt Angle. Those three definitely meant that things were bad. Stephanie and Hunter meant 'We need to get our shit together'.

  Which honestly doesn't surprise her, due to the point Monday Night Raw has one of the worst ratings on the USA Channel that she's ever seen in almost TEN years. That's what happens when she's not there for a month. Shit falls apart.

   Everyone turned to see the young woman, completely surprised to see her back so soon. Hunter was first to welcome her back, helping her unhook her suitcase on her wheelchair "Isabella, not that I'm not happy to see you, but you didn't have to come back if you weren't ready."

  "I'm fine, hate hospitals always. I'm good, I promise."

   Glad to hear someone that he's grown close to over the years was ready to get back into work. Stephanie smiled with a respectful nod "Glad to have you back Isabell," addressing the dirty blonde woman with a nickname she gave her first day here, and she went into her professional boss mode after Kurt stood next to Isabella giving her a hello as Steph got started. "Now, if you haven't noticed, our ratings are incredibly low, the lowest they've been in I want to say fifteen years. We need to fix that, immediately. Now we're here to hear what you guys have to offer."

    "We could put Bliss and Nia in a tag match agaisnt Bayley and Sasha." The 'awesome brilliant' head of raw creative suggested making Isabella roll her eyes in annoyonce and frustration being reminded on shit the Raw Womens Divison currently was in.

   Hearing some more teribble ideas they've ALREADY done, the youngest woman cleared her throat, her hands resting on her lap as she adjusted herself where she was sitting up straight "What we should do with the womens divison is have Sasha and Alexa hash it out on the mic. With their real life differences and hate for one another, it'll engage the audience.

   "Have the Miz and the Miz tirage Maryse of course, go out for Miz TV, Ambrose claim a rematch. Have Heath Slater come out and as for a title match. Ambrose has his rematch Sunday and have Heath and Miz have a title match to spark the ratings. Have Lesnar and Joe have a backstage fight," Pausing for a moment, Stephanie and Hunter grinned at one another knowing she still have her mind in work while gone.

   "Emphasis on the Wyatt and Rollins match because I'm confused why that's even happening. Broken Gimmick needs to happen like yesterday, and lastly, we need to have more of the women superstars involved on Raw, since we have three hours I'm thinking Dana and Emma fued soon. Also see about Summer coming back and fued with Sasha. Alicia and Mickie happen."

   She threw out a lot of information that she aslo had typed up in her folder. Edward Lang, the head of raw creative; male in his early 40s, tall handsome, pretty blye eyes, and could probably get any girl in his bed without breaking a sweat. He had anything but a pleasing look on her face glaring at her "Nobody wants to see Dana and Emma, Mickie James, or the rest of the divison. There's a reason why we've been standing with the four girls."

   Even this guy had a boss. Road Dogg. Yeah, and he was even a bigger asshole.

   "People want to see it, anyone but the four women. That's the point of a Women's Revolution. What's the point have having the Mae Young Classic when there are five women on Raw that haven't had a chance to shine because they aren't one of the four horse women with the exception of Alexa and Nia? It makes them," pointing at Stephanie, Kurt, and Hunter putting somw truth out there "look like a bunch of hypocrites."

   Now, this was a little too much authority for the twenty nine year old who felt her heart racing and if she lifted her hand, it be shaking uncontrollabley. She hated how the Womens Divison was treated on Raw, and how they have some like Brock Lesnar, who yes she respects a lot, as a champion who is a part timer. Raw roster was getting the shit end of the stick and they were desperate at this moment.

   "It's not that easy, the more time for them, the least for everyone else. Running this kind of show and getting the okay isn't as easy as you think it is. Thank you for your suggestions, I'll consider them." Code word for: Go fuck yourself Carter.

   Balling her hand into a fist, she knew he wasn't going to give a shit about what she said and contunie to run this company to the ground. Not able to say anything, well she could, she just didnt have the self confidence to do so, she put a fake smile on her face muttering "You're welcome."

   As their little meeting went on, Isabella found herself else where in her mind knowing this was never going to get better. Losing the best talent in the world like Austin Aries, who was not at all happy with his position in the company, that really says a lot about this company. She has dealt with this sexist and racist bullshit for years and it made her blood boil.

  Most of the time why she never says anything back was because she was afriad of getting fired; she loves the wrestlers and staff memebers here. They've been her family for a long time. What would she do with her life? This was her life, just not in the way she saw it.

  "Everyone's dismissed. Let's have a good show tonight."

   Grabbing her suitcase pulling it by her left hand, she used her right to move her wheel to leave just when Hunter started small conversation "So how you feeling?"

   "I'm doing good Hunter, just having a little of a hard time with sleeping positions. That's all."

   That wasn't exactly what he was asking, so he asked a similar question "You know Steph and I can see how much you care about everyone here. You've been here for what? Almost ten years? Ever consider maybe taking a step into a bigger role?"

   "Like as the Head of Raw Creative?"

   He gave her a nod only her be truthful "You know Vince won't ever approve of it."

   "He wouldn't, not without some convincing. I don't say this unless I believe it a hundred percent," Stopping in his tracks, she stopped when he set a hand on her shoulder and met his eyes "I see you as the Head of Creative, of both brand. Changing this place, and I have a feeling that you do too. Look, when you're ready, Steph and I will back you up but you need to find it inside that you can do it. Believe in yourself."

   Wow, okay. Fuck. That's a lot for her to take in right now. She felt her breathing get heavy and uneven but she gave him a look that she understood what he was saying, "Thank you Hunter. I needed that."

   "No problem kid, take it easy."

∆

   With Raw kicking off in under an hour, Edward Lang actually considered her ideas and is going through with most of them. Just of course not the Womens Divison one. Fucking asshole.

  He instructed Isabella to gather the talent together and tell them about the changes in the show. Doing that, she had everyones scripts and grew a nervous when she was giving weird looks in her new condition but she had this.

   'I got this,' She told herself as everyone's eyes were now on her.

   Ready go.

   "H-hello everyone. There has been quite some changes with tonight show and I wanted you to hear it from me and to make sure everyone's on the same page," They watched as she opened the folder on her lap.

  A certain superstar was curious and nudged his old friend "What happened to her?"

   "Renee told me that her and Paige had been doing some training in the ring. She took a bad bump and lost the feeling in her legs."

  A look of disbelief sat on the face of Seth Rollins, real name Colby Lopez "No," By the look on Jon's face, Dean Ambrose, his friend was dead serious "You're serious? That's crazy, I just don't see her trying to wrestle."

   "I'm pretty sure someones said that about us or just about everyone in this room." Ah, very vaid point.

   The two fell silent as the disable woman contunied on "Alright, bare with me everyone, I'm trying to unfuck everything, I'm gone a month and this place is going down to hell." Cracking a joke, some of the wrestlers chuckled at it agreeing, even making Colby himself chuckle.

   "Enzo, you've been moved to the opening of the show, go out there and pour your heart out on the microphone. Now, I've changed that because Rollins and Wyatt," She grabbed both mens attention "I know you two haven't been given a lot of time with this storyline, so you guys got fifteen minutes, do what you do best.

   "Miz, Maryse, and the Miz tourage will be on Miz TV, talking about Ambrose being a problem, Ambrose you come out demand a remath at Great Balls of Fire, god that is a horroble Paper per view name," She hated how it sounded and that was all they could best come up with? Chuckling softly she brought in Heath Slater "Heath, you and Ryno will come out, you say you want a title shot and you shall recieve one."

   Mike and Maryse nod knowing their get there scripts after "Brock and Joe, we will do a backstage segnment and an interview will go south and basically y'all will kill each other," Paul Heyman really liked that idea with a giant smile on his face.

   "Hardy boyz, slowly show the broken gimmick. I'm really trying to convince Vince to go with it so do your guys thing. And lastly, ladies, unfortunately you're stuck in another tag team match; Nia and Alexa vs Bayley and Sasha. For all three divisons, I know your frustrated with booking, I'm frustrated too. Bare with me and let's show Phoenix how Monday Night Raw works. If there are changes in storylines and segments I brought up, I have scripts. You're free to leave."

   As everyone who got changes for tonight, naturally got in line as the others left the room. Standing behind Mike, Maryse, and the Miz Tourage, Colby's eyes flickered over at The Boss when she said a snarky comment to the creative woman who clearly didn't want to agrue. He rolled his eyes before he ease dropped in the conversation ahead of him.

   "Now Mike, if you don't any of these, perfectly acceptable. I trust you enough to put on a great segment."

   The Intercontinental champion scanned over the many script options she gave him very impressed "No, these are amazing. All of these are exactly what I need. You're the best Bella, oh! A bunch of the talent is going out tonight, you should join us!"

   Mike and Maryse had always liked and respected Isabella; especially will being here as long as she has been. She fought for the Mike's on screen character and well as Maryse holding the Divas Champion many years ago having one of the longest divas reigns in history.

  She had no favorites, and cared for everyone, wanting everyone to be treated right.

   "Yeah, thanks for the invite. I'll be there. Tell me the details after your segment."

   Being the last one, Colby took a step forward as she greeted him "Hey Rollins, how's the knee doin'?"

    "It's doing really good actually, thanks for asking," He took the script from her hand as he head the door open for her to exit "How about you? Haven't seen you in a while."

    That made her smile, and actually smile. He noticed when she wasn't around, wheeling herself out of the room "I'm hanging in there, it's a rough transition."

    "I'm sure it is. Well, if this helps, you look great."

    As he walked along side of her, he glanced over to see her dip her head in the other direction able to catch the bright red cheeks thinking it was adorable "T-thanks, it does help," she cleared her throat a little curious "are you going out later with the others?"         "Yeah, Ceasaro and Ambrose convinced me to do so. Are you?"

   Why not? Couldn't hurt to let loose "I'll go for a little bit, I'm going to the gym first," She then emphasized "Need to work on my upper body, of course." She fixed herself, even though he was well capable of figuring that out on his own.

  He really respected that; gym before going out. In her condition, staying in  physical fitness, was very important. "Hey, I hear you, that's great. I applause you, I'll see you later tonight then?"

   "Yes, good luck tonight Mr. Rollin-"

   "Please call me Colby, It's Isabella right?"

  Giving a nod, Colby, despite working in the same company for YEARS, she had no idea that was his real name. She liked Colby, it was different. "Colby I will refer you as then, and yeah Isabella; feel free to call me Bella or really anything but Isabella, honestly I feel like I'm in trouble or in business talk. Sorry I'm rambling on."

  "No, don't be sorry, I get it," He really didn't want to stop talking to her but they both had work to do. "I'll let you get back to work, thanks for the script. If I have any questions, where can I find you at?"

   Yeah okay, really just to see her. He has this unexplainable attraction to her that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

   "I'll be catering to think or either Glam Squad with the girls."

   Ugh, shit what to say no, he was very awkward at this point. He was terrible with women, just look at hia track record with them. Terrible. "Ok sweet, I'll see you then."

   "See you around Colby."

   Parting ways, Isabella spent more of the night of the show with many of the other wrestlers to talk about their scripts and she gave some pointers and ideas to help them suceed as Colby spent most of his stealing looks in her direction, not understanding why exactly he did so.

∆∆

∆ two ∆ 

  So yeah, thoughts? This has been my longest chapter ever. I hope y’all enjoyed and if you’d liked to be tagged, let me know! God I’m scared of what you guys think. Be gentle?

Love ya! xoxox

-Cammy

[superteenwolftrash]

Alpha/Stiles Stilinski Smut

Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)

Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! 

Stiles hasn't been sleeping lately, he's been having nightmares. So I've decided to stay with him for a few nights.

 "Stiles?" I whispered as I felt him sit up in the bed. "Nightmare?" I questioned as I sat up. He was biting his nails nervously, "Stiles?" I said and he looked at me with horror in his eyes. "I couldn't save you." He whispered. "Stiles it was just a dream, nothing's going to happen." I said placing my hands on both sides of his face. He closed his eyes as I placed a soft kiss on his plump pink lips before laying back down. He leaned over me and kissed me roughly, Stiles was always sweet and gentle with me but I couldn't deny that I wasn't turned on. "Stiles." I moaned against his lips as he hovered over me and ground his hips against mine. He took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue past my lips. "Stiles its 4 in the morning." I groaned as he kissed down my neck towards my breasts. "And your point is?" He said and I could feel him smirk against my skin, he kissed down the valley of my breasts all the way down to my belly button. I shivered under his touch, he brought his lips back up to mine and kissed me sweetly. He reached his hand slip and slide it underneath my panties, "You're soaked and I haven't even touched you yet." He whispered in my ear. Stiles was never into dirty talk but I didn't mind it turned me on so much. He slipped a finger inside me and started pumping at a painfully slow pace, I gasped as I felt his long slender finger inside me. "Stiles!" I moaned grabbing his hand. "M-more." I begged. "What was that? I can't hear you." He teased as he pulled his finger out. He pulled down his grey sweats and his hard throbbing cock sprung out. He pulled my panties down roughly and placed himself at my entrance, he teased my clit with his tip. "S-stiles." I moaned and without warning he pushed himself inside of me roughly. He let out a groan as he place his hands on my hips, "Fuck." I cursed but he cut me off by kissing my lips. He pounded into me then placed his hand between us and rubbed my clit roughly. The pleasure was overwhelming, "S-stiles I'm gonna cum." I said arching my back up towards him. "Cum for me baby girl." He said biting my neck. "Fuck!" I screamed as I released around him, seconds later I felt his warm liquid fill me up. —— "Don't  go out tonight Y/N." Scott said over the phone. Currently he and the rest of the pack were out looking for my boyfriend. Stiles was being possessed by a 1,000 year old Japanese sprit and Scott thought since Stiles and I were together that he would come after me. The pack didn't know that I was a hunter and neither did Stiles so how would Void Stiles? that gave me an advantage. "Scott I'll be fine, just find him please." I said before Scott gave me his word that he would. I hung up and I suddenly got another incoming call, "Stiles?" I questioned as I read the caller ID. "Stiles?" I said answering the phone. "Y/N it's so dark." I heard stiles whisper. "Stiles where are you?" I said nervously. "I don't know Y/N it's freezing and I can't see anything." He whimpered. "I'm gonna get Scott and we're gonna find you." I said grabbing my jacket. "No Y/N he'll kill Scott. You need to come alone" he said his voice suddenly darker. I would have said I was gonna get Scott but it was Stiles and he could be hurt. "Okay what do you see?" I asked walking to my car. "The School." Was the last thing he said before the line went dead. "Stiles? Damn it!" I said throwing my phone in the passenger seat. I called Scott and the rest of the pack several times and nobody answered. I feared the worst, I drove to the school because that was the best lead I had. It was around Midnight when he called me so the the School was abandoned besides his Jeep in the parking lot. I grabbed my knife and shoved it in my boot, I entered the school cautiously. "Stiles?" I yelled in a hushed tone. I went into the boys locker room to check it out and I saw one of the lockers open. I walked over and it slammed shut, Stiles came out from behind it. He fell into my arms, "Stiles." I said holding him tightly. "What happened?" I asked as he lifted his head to look at me. His looked horrible, he had dark circles around his eyes and chapped lips. All the color drained from his face, he stood up straight and let out a chuckle. "Shit." I muttered realizing whom I was talking to. "Now Y/N such a pretty little mouth shouldn't be saying such things." He said with a smirk. "Where is Stiles?" I demanded. "You know I knew you would be easy to lure out. The person you love is in danger makes you do stupid things Y/N." He said trapping me against the locker. "I agree. Good thing I planned ahead, because Scott has Stiles." I said with a smirk as Void looked surprised. "You thought I wouldn't tell them where I was going? Wow you aren't as smart as we all thought huh." I said and he grabbed my wrist and dragged me out the back door of the school. The Oni were outside there shielding us from any one trying to get to us. -Time Skip- We ended up in this tunnel type thing, it smelled horrible and it was very wet in there. I was leaned against these metal bars, while void sat on the steps above. "What do you hope to gain from kidnapping me?" I asked. "If you must know, Stiles and the rest of the pack will do anything to protect you. Even if that means them getting themselves killed and that's what I'm counting on." He said with an evil smile. "So whatever happens to you happens to Stiles?" I asked and he rolled his eyes. "So many questions, No not yet anyway." He said. "Why would you tell me that?" I asked "Because what can you do to hurt me?" He asked coming down the steps towards me. I was inches from me, My head said to be scared but it looked liked Stiles and I could never be afraid of him. "You have no idea what I could do." I whispered as he pressed his chapped lips to mine. I knew then that this was my opportunity. I was reaching from my knife when he pulled away, "It's time." He said before grabbing my wrist and dragging me out of the tunnels. I saw the entire pack getting ready to fight the Oni, "what do you want!" I yelled and the pack turned towards me to see Void holding me captive. "You." He gritted through his teeth. "Fine! Please just done hurt them." I whispered. "Hmm something needs to sweeten the deal." He smirked at me, he was acting as if nobody else was around us. "Don't Y/N we can take them!" Scott stepped up. "No you can't." I said as a tear slipped from my eye and down my cheek. "Y/N." I heard Stiles say and I smiled knowing he was okay. "What would "Sweeten" the deal for you?" I spat. "You have to become like me." He stated. "What? Become like you? I don't understand." I said confused "He wants you to become Void." I heard Kira say from behind me. "Ah yes she's correct, become Void and I won't kill your friends." He said crossing his arms. "Fine but you hate to let me say goodbye." I said and he nodded. "Go on but try anything and I'll kill you all." He chuckled darkly. I made my way towards my friends, Scott was first. "Y/N you don't have to do this, there's always another way." Scott said and I wrapped my arms around him tightly, Scott was one of my closest friends. "I know what I have to do Scott." I said and I pulled away from the hug. I then made my way to a crying Lydia, Lydia and I have been best friends our entire lives. "Don't cry please." I said quietly as we embraced each other. "You can't go with him Y/N." Lydia said in short breaths. "I'll be okay." I said and wiped her tears away and made my way to Isaac. Isaac and I always got paired up as partners in class so we've become very close, I was the first person he told about him dad. "Hi Isaac." I said and he looked at me with disappointment but nonetheless he pulled me into a hug, I was dreading the last goodbye. "Let's hurry this along." I heard Void snap his fingers. I smiled at Isaac before making my way to Allison, "Y/N." She said pulling me into a hug. I instantly hugged her back, Allison would take me into the woods and teach me how to fight. I knew she knew what I was but she didn't say anything to anyone. I've known Kira for a short while but it seems as though we've known each other our whole lives. "Y/N there's so many other ways we can do this!" Kira stated as I got over to her. "Kira this is the safest option." I said hugging her. "For us but not for you." she said hugging me back tightly. Last but night least Stiles, I slowly made my way over to him. His eyes were holding back tears, "This isn't heroic it's tragic." He choked out. "I'm sorry you see it that way." I said trying to hold back my tears. He grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug afraid he'll lose me, because he knows that he will. "Isn't that sweet." Void chuckled. "Alright wrap it up sweetheart we have lots to do." He said but I wasn't paying attention to him. "Y/N please." Stiles whispered still holding me tightly. "I can't loose you." He said and I knew he way crying. "And I can't go on knowing you're dead." I said as he pulled away just enough to look at me. "I love you." He said staring into my eyes as he smashed his lips against mine. This kiss was full of love and passions I never wanted it to stop, we pulled away and rested out foreheads against each others "I love you, Stiles." I said kissing his lips gently one last time. I turned on my heels and started walking back to Void, he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. I could hear everyone crying and it broke my heart. "I'll be seeing you all again very soon." He spoke and just like that we were gone. Over the next few months Void has been gathering random things that he says "Will make me like him."  I didn't want to do any of it but I know if I didn't he would kill everyone I love. He had let his guard down around me, which meant I had the upper hand. But how would one go about killing a 1,000 heard old being? I know that silver kills the Oni so why not try that. My Knife I was still carrying was full on silver. We were in this hold up in this small apartment, tonight was my only chance. I knew Stiles was still looking for me everyone was, every place we passed in California was papered with my picture. I had to do it tonight, Void wasn't at his strongest yet. He was currently sleeping in the other room and I knew that now was my Chance. I crept as quietly as I could with knife in hand into the bed room, his back was towards me. I got closer and closer and I could feel my Heart beating like it was going to come out of my chest. I knew I would probably die because of the Oni but I had to try, I kneeled down and without hesitation I shove the knife through his back. He let out this bone chilling scream and the Oni appeared but before they could do anything to me he turned to Dust. I grabbed my knife ready to fight for my life with the strangest thing happened, the Oni bent down on one knee before a black cloud came up from the floor and over took me. I woke up hour later and I felt different, I felt like I could do anything. I stood up and the Oni appeared from the floor, I wasn't afraid. I felt like part of me just went dark, the light went out. I read somewhere that when you kill a Nogitsune you absorb its power but Kira said it wasn't true. But I guess she was wrong, "I can go home." I said to myself as the Oni disappeared. It took me days but I finally got back to Beacon hills, it was dark. I didn't even know what month is was, I had lost track of time. But I found myself at the School, the Oni were marching behind me. Cars were all over the parking lot and then I read "Winter Formal" on the sigh of the school. I was by no means dressed for this, I had long black skinny jeans ripped at the knees, black heeled boots, a white crop top and a leather jacket. I saw Stiles's keep and I felt relief, "Leave me please." I said and the Oni went into the ground. I walked up to the front doors of the school and I could hear the music pumping. Both door flew open and I stepped inside, the hallways were littered with horny teenagers making out. I just needed to find Stiles, I made my way into the gym. Plenty of people came up to me asking what happened and if I was kidnapped. I brushed them off and that's when I saw him. Stiles was dancing with Lydia, it made my heart melt. I couldn't help but smile they were okay, I started walking towards Stiles when someone grabbed me. I didn't fight back because I knew I'd kill whoever it was and it would be fun to see who thought they could grab me. I was shoved into an empty classroom, "What are you doing here!" He roared and knew that voice. "Scott." I rolled my eyes. "I'm back!" I said leaning against the desk. "That's not possible! You're like him now aren't you" he demanded "Wow not even a Hi I'm glad you aren't dead!" I laughed. "Is he here?" Scott asked with glowing red eyes. "He's dead." I simply stated. "How?" He asked in disbelief "I killed him not can I go see Stiles?" I said walking towards the door. "How do I know this isn't a trick?" He said grabbing my wrist. "Would I ever hurt Stiles?" I asked "No but Void you might." He said squeezing my arms tighter. "Let go Scott, I don't want to hurt you." I said pulling my arms away and shoving him against the chalk board. "How did you do that?" He asked surprised as he stood up slowly. "I'm sorry." I said before running out of the class room and out of the school. I ran to Stiles's house, Sheriff was at work so I was alone there. I made my way up to Stiles's room and I sat in the bed. I knew Scott would tell him and Stiles would think I was bad, I just needed to explain everything to him. Sure enough a few hours later I heard the front door close. "Y/N?" I heard my name being called as he made his way up the steps. His door flew open and he looked at me like he was seeing a ghost. "Stiles." I said standing up. "You have to let me explain." I said but he cut me off by embracing me tightly. I took in a deep breath of his familiar scent, "Stiles-" I was about to say but I was cut off. He grabbed a note pad and started writing something down. I was confused to say the least, he showed me the pad and it read. "Scott, Derek, and Peter are downstairs and I think they are gonna hurt you." Stiles wrote. "Wh-" he cut me off agains by shushing me. "Go." He mouthed and I quickly made my escape through his window. I knew where they wouldn't find me, a place only Stiles knew to go to. But first I paid a little visit to the Sheriff's Station. Sheriff Stilinski took me into his office after hugging me tightly. "Derek, Peter and Scott are trying to kill me." I said innocently, Nobody was going to keep me from Stiles not even Scott. The door busted open and I was quickly behind sheriff Stilinski, he held up his gun at the two. It was Derek and Peter, Scott was probably off trying to find Stiles. "She's playing you!" Derek spat. "Derek stay back." The sheriff demanded. Sheriff Stilinski had a soft spot for me since I was there for Stiles when his mom died. "I don't know what's going on here but you need to go before I place you under arrest." Stilinski said keeping me behind him. Derek chuckled "You think that scares me? Or your little gun?" Derek said coming closer. I couldn't let him hurt Stiles's Father, I quickly stepped in front of Stilinski and I pushed Derek back and he went through the office wall. "Well that couldn't have been avoided." Peter said pulling his claws out. The Oni appeared and I made my exit as they fought for me. I went to the School where it all started, I couldn't believe what I was turning into. I was becoming Void, as I walked through the hallway my heels clicked against the floor. I saw Lydia pressed up against Stiles's back and they went backing away from something or someone. "Me? You think you can kill me! I'm A thousand years old you can't kill me!" I heard the familiar voice. "Stiles?" I said stepping into view. "There's my little Dove." Void exclaimed as I walked towards him. "Y/N!" Stiles said grabbing my wrist. I pulled away gently, "I made a deal Stiles, he wouldn't hurt any of you." I said to Stiles "Have you held up your end?" I said as I stood next to void. "You know I have darling." He smirked and I heard someone coming up from behind us and I say Scott going to bite Void and something in me couldn't let that happen. I grabbed Scott by the neck and threw him against the locker, Stiles stood there in shock. "Y/N?" He questioned "You see that's not Y/N anymore." Void replied as I walked over to Scott and lifted him against the lockers by his throat. I couldn't stop myself I had no control, Scott was gripping my hand trying to pull it away I dropped him against the floor as the rest of the pack made their way in. "I said I wouldn't hurt any of you, but she never promised anything." Void said with a smirk as he saw everyone else come in. "Y/N I know you can't hear me!" Stiles yelled. "Come on Y/N!" Lydia said. "SHUT UP SHUT UP!" I yelled hearing her scream in my head. I looked over to Void "What's happening?" I said grabbing my head falling to my knees. "No no no!" He yelled going to his knees beside me. For the first time in months I felt control over myself, I didn't know how long it would last so I quickly pulled the knife from my boot and thrusted it up into his stomach. "Scott Now!" I yelled and Scott came and bite his shoulder. I backed away as his skin started to crack and soon he fell to the floor and was nothing but dust. Derek quickly made his way over to me and grabbed me by my throat. "De-Der." I gasped as the breath left my lungs. "Derek!" Scott yelled as he grabbed Derek's shoulder. "You don't know what she could do! The Oni killed most of the police force because of her!" Derek shot back. Stiles was standing next to where Derek held me begging him to let me go, I felt my eyes getting heavy. As I was about to close them I fell to the floor gasping and coughing. "Y/N you're okay." Stiles said crouching down and rubbing my back gently. "She's just like him!" Derek spat. Allison and Lydia came over and helped me up, "We can't trust her, we have to kill her!" Derek said glaring at me. "Look at her, she can't even walk." Isaac chimed in (with a haven't you people ever heard of. Sorry I am trash.) "It's a ruse." Derek said. "What if when Void died the one inside her did too? Like he created her." Kira suggested. "Do you feel any different?" Scott asked. "It hasn't been me these past few months." I started and Derek scoffed. "When Stiles called out to me I finally had control." I finished. "Get her back to your house." Scott said turning to Stiles and Lydia and Allison handed me over to Stiles. Stiles looked like he hasn't slept in weeks, but then again I look the same. I heard the fighting about what to do with me even after we got to the parking lot, "I'm not letting her go!" Derek roared "She's not void!" Scott yelled. "Let's find out!" Derek said as he followed us out. I heard the school doors fly open behind us with such force. Stiles and I quickly turn around as we hear Scott screaming. Derek's all wolfed out his eyes glowing red, Stiles pushes me behind him but Derek shoves stiles aside. I see Everyone running behind him, everything seems to be in slow motion. I see Scott and Isaac wolfed out running towards us, before I could react Derek's claws slash my stomach. Everyone stops moving, Derek's looks surprised that I hadn't tried to defend myself. Everyone has a look of horror, I look over to see Stiles standing up his mouth agape, I fall to my knees. "Y/N!" I hear Lydia's piercing scream. Before I can fall to the ground Stiles grabs me and sinks to the cold concrete. He holding my body against his, I look up at Stiles and he's sobbing his heart out. "She wasn't void." Stiles whispered. "Scott!" He yelled and Scott took a second before he could react. He quickly made his was over to us, Derek stumbled back realizing his mistake. "What do I do?" Stiles cried out. I couldn't say a word; i was in agony. "Turn her." Stiles whispered. "Stiles she's weak." Scott's voice cracked. "Do it!" Stiles yelled looking up at Scott, I couldn't hold any longer. I close my eyes softly after giving a small smile to Stiles, "No no no!" Stiles cried. Scott grabbed my arm and sunk his teeth into it, "Her heart, do you hear her heart?" Stiles choked out already knowing the answer. Scott couldn't bring himself to tell his best friend that I was dead, Lydia sat on her knees crying her eyes out. Kira stood with her hands covering her mouth, she hasn't totally processed what happened. Allison held the sides of her head tears spilling from her eyes. Isaac was speechless, he had just lost his best friend. Derek quickly made his escape, Scott sat in front of my limp body staring at my bloody wound and Stiles, he was shaking whimpers fell from his lips. For what seemed like hours was only a few minutes, I felt someone. I gasped and my eyes flew open, Stiles quickly wrapped his arms around me. I didn't know what was happening, "Y/N?" Scott questions and everyone looked over to me. "She's an Alpha?" Scott said in disbelief but my glowing red eyes was enough proof for him.

[winchesterdesire]

Iele

Part 7 of Done Waiting.

Pairings: Dean x reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader, OC

Warnings:angst?

Summary: Dean needs to save the reader, but is unsure how best to do that. And who is James really?

…………………………

[Dean’s POV]

“Y/N!!!!!!!!!”

My voice sounded rough and cracked, as it rang out in the small space, as I lurched towards her. Before I could reach her, her head snapped up and her eyes were wide open staring. A force stopped me in my tracks and I watched horrified as y/n turned and another gash appeared on her body. She didn’t scream. Only a low groan escaped her lips. An exhausted groan. One that showed she was past the ability to do anything more.

My gut wrenched at the sound. My eyes glued to her, willing her to be able acknowledge I was here. I was here for her.

Sam was still glued to the wall and I didn’t seem able to speak anymore. It was like my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. What the hell where we dealing with here? This Iele thing was powerful. More so than any other spirit we’d encountered.

James groaned then. My eyes snapped to him and I gritted my teeth. His head slowly rose and his eyes fluttered open. Those freaking blue eyes scanned the room, widening as he cast a scared glance around.

He began to try and move against his restraints, when what looked like smoke coiled around him, almost as if trying to soothe him. I managed a growl, which got James’s attention.

His eyes snapped to mine. They widened again. As I watched the smoke slowly seemed to take shape and before my very eyes transformed into the ghost like apparition of a woman. She was leaning over James, almost embracing him and trying to soothe his fear. I saw his entire body tense as she became more solid. His head snapped away from me as he tried to distance himself from the form behind him. I vaguely saw movement from Sam’s direction but willed myself not to look. If he had managed to pull free from the hold on him and had a plan, I didn’t want to draw attention to him.

Being stuck I had time to study y/n. She looked bad. Really bad. All I wanted to do was rush forward and take her in my arms. Patch her up myself and never let her go. Her normally y/h/c was matted with blood. My heart broke at the sight. My eyes were drawn back to James again as he struggled. The Iele, walking around him, coming to stop in front of him.

A cold haunting voice broke into my mind then. I knew it was the Iele. The sound of it sent shivers all over my body and goosebumps raised on my arms. My gazed felt like it was tugged to her. Her mouth didn’t move but the voice couldn’t belong to anyone else. It was like ice cutting into me.

“James my love. Jimmy. Why do you resist me so? Have I not been kind to you? I saved you from the whore. Jimmy.”

Jimmy. The nickname fell into my mind, jolting me. The ID card coming back through a fog at the back of my mind. Where had I heard that name before? I squeezed my eyes shut trying to dispel the thoughts. There wasn’t time to think about that now. I had to try and move. I had to try and get to y/n. That thing had just called her a whore. I wasn’t going to stand that.

There was no time to gather any strength to try as the Iele’s voice pierced my mind again, this time there was a darker edge underlying it, sending my body into some sort of shock.

“Have you betrayed me Jimmy? Did you bring these… these hunters to my door? I thought you were special. There was something different about you. Something graceful. And you betrayed me. Like all the rest”

Her voice seemed to snarl around the word ‘hunters’. She now had her back turned to me. I studied her trying to figure out any weaknesses. She was definitely different from any other spirit we’d come across. In any other situation I might have called her beautiful. No not that, that was the wrong word. Striking. She had a terrifying striking quality about her. It was easy to see why people were led astray by her. She vaguely resembled those nymphs from Greek mythology. Her eerie smoke sort of falling over her like a thin robe. The one thing that marked her out as being different though, aside from the creepy smoke, were the swirling silver patterns that snaked up and down her arms. They seemed to glow adding to the already weird shit atmosphere. I swallowed hard as she moved closer to James. It was like she had a lure and it was extremely hard to resist.

I felt myself losing grip on my bearings and I dragged my mind back to y/n. She was the only thing that mattered right now. I tore my gaze away from the Iele and focused on y/n. What that bitch had done to y/n. It burned away at the fog now clouding the front of my mind. I could feel my strength return, that I hadn’t even realised had begun to seep from me. Fire flew through my veins as I allowed what I felt for y/n rush through me. My heart thudded heavily and stronger than ever in my chest.

I saw James turn his head away from the Iele and she struck him. His head snapping back to her. A blue bruise was snaking on his cheek where she had struck him. My gut recoiled. It looked nasty and the colouring was harsh on his face.

I moved forward pulling my iron rod out of my jacket as Sam rushed past me. He swung the iron rod in his hands through the Iele. She hissed, shuddering back, her form recoiling. She didn’t disappear like normal ghosts do though she just seemed hurt. While she was distracted I rushed to y/n. Holding her form. Her body dropped into my arms as Sam swung at the Iele again. Another hiss ripping through the air. Her voice lashed through my mind again as I gripped y/n tightly pulling her to my chest.

“No one will get in the way of my vengeance! You are nothing. You are tiny. I will destroy you”

I looked up at the Iele then, Sam was holding her back with the mugwort and garlic tied together on a stick he held before him. I stared back at her defiantly,

“I know. Doesn’t mean I’ll go down without taking you with me, you bitch! Sammy now!”

Sam began chanting the text he had found to accompany the dance. He moved in a weird formation around the Iele keeping her back as best as possible with his makeshift stick. I was going to tease Sam about that stupid dance after we got out of here. I lay y/n down as gently as I could, so as not to hurt anymore than she was. Her eyes were open and glassy. I panicked before seeing her chest rise and fall.

I stood grabbing for my own mugwort thing and helped Sam keep the Iele at bay. She was twisting and turning, screaming at us. The sound spiking through our minds. I winced, dropping the mugwort. She lashed out, cutting my arm and sending y/n flying against the far wall. I heard James call her name in distress. I gritted my teeth, sweeping the mugwort back up and brandishing it in the Iele’s face. I couldn’t get distracted. I couldn’t.

Sam was still moving weirdly and I had no desire to know what the hell he was doing. It looked like voodoo shit and I was too busy trying to hold the bitch back. She was strong. I kept fighting to keep hold of the stick before me. It felt like holding onto a kite in a storm. Near impossible. My fingers were getting splinters from the stick as my grip tightened and the wood dug into my skin.

The stick slipped from my grasp and went flying. I was flung backwards and she lunged for me. She was holding me by the neck up on the wall. Forcing me higher. Her grip tightened, cutting off my air supply. I scrabbled at her hands, but mine kept slipping through, clawing at my own throat. I felt the pressure increase as I struggled for air. My efforts getting weaker by the moment. The air around her seemed to darken and I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. I struggled to keep my mind clear. Fog seeming to swirl around and within me, clogging up my senses. Her voice screeched through my mind, cutting through the fog for moment.

“You think you can stop me. You are weak. You can’t save her. You mean nothing to her. I’ve seen her heart.”

I made an awful noise in my throat, I can’t even describe it. I didn’t need her to tell me what I already knew. I’d pushed y/n away. But I could save her. I would save her. Or die trying.

I forced my eyes open, the Iele was terrifying up close, it’s features distorted. I recoiled, feeling violently sick as I still had no air. My eyes landed on y/n. James was still struggling against his restraints. At least he wasn’t being completely useless.

I failed to gasp for air as the Iele renewed her efforts. My eyes rolling to the back of my head. I couldn’t keep them open any longer. I felt my fight dying and I tried to stay conscious, constantly struggling with the fog and her vice like grip on me.

CRACK

The noise shattered through the room and the fog in my mind.

CRACK

The Iele shuddered, her grip loosening, her scream deafening. I gasped for air, my throat burning as oxygen ripped down into my empty lungs. My chest was painful as it constricted trying to regulate the air flow. Son of a bitch that was painful!

CRACK

My vision swam before me as I took deep shaky breaths trying to get back in control.

CRAACK

The Iele’s scream ricocheted around the room. My ears ringing I lifted my head. Sammy was standing at his full height, the stick he’d been waving now stuck in the ground, a crack running from it towards the Iele. She slammed down into the floor. Her arms flying forward as she tried to find something to cling onto. Her fingernails leaving claw marks in the floor. I picked myself up as Sam brought the stick high above his head again. I could see him straining against some force and all I wanted to do was take over. Before I could do anything he brought the stick back down.

CRACK

The sound seemed to echo indefinitely as the stick splintered when it made contact with the ground and light exploded around us. The Iele was torn into smoky threads and got sucked down into the ground, the floor pulling itself together as it went. I watched frozen as Sam fell. The last of the unexplainable light fading as the screams whipped from our minds, leaving a hideous silence.

Sammy crumpled to the ground. I fell to my knees.

“Sammy?!”

I watched, waiting. Sam lifted himself and I breathed a sigh of relief, before spinning round and sprinting to y/n.

James was already by her side, somehow having gotten out of the ropes tying him to the chair. He was shivering and I easily pushed him aside. I reached y/n, pulling her into my arms and cradling her against my chest. I stroked her hair out of her face, trying to get her to look at me.

“Y/N? Wake up. Come on.”

She was still. Too still.

“Come ON!”

I shook her slightly, James was regretably at my side, Sam had come to my other, sitting down heavily. He looked beat. I took in a shuddering breath, clutching y/n to me and rocking back and forth.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I flinched when I realised it was James. I gritted my teeth

“Sammy… take y/n. Make sure she comes back to me.”

“Dean…”

I glared at Sam. He knew not to argue. He took y/n from my arms and backed out the room. She was safe now. She was safe. She had to be.

James had begun to stand unsteadily. I whipped round, standing and grabbing him by the collar, pulling him against the wall in one surprising movement. His head smacked back against the wall. I growled at him. This was all his fault.

“You better hope that y/n pulls through. For your sake.”

I held him where he was, staring him down when he began to choke slightly and grip at my hands.

“Dean….”

His freaking gravelly voice seemed to be lower. The way he said my name and was looking at me, made me let go. I dropped him and he fell to the floor. This scene was too familiar, did I just get Dejavu? I’d never met this guy though right? I shook my head and turned my back on him.

“You better hope I never see you again”

“Dean…”

I ignored him and left him there. He could get himself out. I had to check on y/n. Make sure she was ok. She was the only thing on my mind right now.

………………….

I reached the Impala. Sam was carefully placing y/n in the back seat. He looked up as I approached, looking behind me.

“Where’s….

I snapped at Sam before he could finish, opening the drivers door and online stopping to glare at Sam,

“He can look after himself. We have to get y/n back”

Sam put his hand on the door, stopping me from closing it,

“We can’t just leave him. Doesn’t matter how pissed you are. We don’t do that to people and… we need to question him remember?”

My jaw clenched but I remembered the ID card and James’ last name. Sammy was right. It was too uncomfortable not to check out. I grunted and slid into the car as Sam turned back to get him. I sat waiting, checking on y/n now and again. I threw my arm over the seat and shifted my body round so I could reach her. I picked up her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. I hoped she could feel it in her unconscious state and know I was there. There for her.

Sam finally came back. He was supporting James who was walking slowly and shivering like crazy. The blue bruise on his cheek seemed bigger than it had in the dim basement. I watched as the came closer, preparing myself to share a car with that guy. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t riding up front with me and he wasn’t going to sit next to y/n either. I closed my eyes knowing that would mean moving her. It was stupid and selfish of me, but I didnt want him near her, not after what happened.

I opened my eyes as Sam opened the back door. James supported himself on the frame. I quickly got up and opened the other side to move y/n.

Mine and Sam’s eyes locked and he understood. I gingerly picked up y/n and moved her to the front seat, where she would be next to me. Sam helped James into the back before sliding in himself.

I noticed Sam had removed his jacket and offered it to James. James refused looking out the window. I shook my head at his stubbornness. He was still shivering, least he could do was accept help when it was offered. I stopped my train of thought. I would have done the same in his position. We still didn’t know who this guy was and why his name was familiar. With that mind, my resentment against him rose back up and I gritted my teeth. I started up Baby. The sooner we knew, the sooner we could get rid of him, and concentrate on healing y/n and getting her back to her normal self.

…………………

The drive back to the motel was long and painful. The tension in the air almost unbearable. Admittedly most of it was rolling off of me. I half wished we were headed back to the bunker but I wasn’t about to take James there. No way. Y/n was leant against me and the only sign she was still alive was her chest rising and falling as she breathed. I clutched the steering wheel trying to concentrate on the road ahead.

We pulled up in front of the motel, and for what felt like an excruciatingly long time we sat in silence with no one moving.

I turned my full attention to y/n, her eyes were still closed and there was no colour in her face. She looked ashen. I swallowed hard. I hoped she would be able to pull through.

I carried y/n into the motel and lay her down on the bed. She felt cold. Wrapping my jacket round her and pulling the covers over her, I leaned down placing a kiss on her forehead. I pressed my lips to her skin, closing my eyes.

As I pulled away, Sam entered. James’s arm was slung around his shoulders. They walked forward until they were near the couch, where Sam helped lower James down onto it. James sat pulling the throw, that lay over the back of the couch, around himself.

Sam made sure he was ok, before looking up to me and moving to be my side.

“We need to get them both to hospital. James seems to be suffering from some sort of hypothermia and it worries me that y/n hasn’t woken yet”

I shook my head, “No hospitals. We can look after y/n ourselves and like you said we still need to work out who Mr ice bucket over there is”

Sam sighed and drew me into the kitchen space.

“The most we can do is stitch her up. She needs more than that Dean, look at her. We can pretend to be FBI agents with two vics, no one will know”

Sam was right. And we had our own injuries to look at. My throat was still sore and my voice was constantly hoarse. The gash on my arm also needed attention badly and Sam looked exhausted, and in no state to help patch someone else up. After a bit of convincing and me being my stupid grumpy self, I begrudgingly agreed. We needed help. She needed help we couldn’t give her. I couldn’t give her.

…………………..

I sat by her hospital bed. The machine hooked up to her telling me her heart was beating regularly. I held onto that lifeline and prayed.

Sam was in the room next door, where James was. Apparently he was fine and just needed rest and warming up. I guess I should be grateful we managed to save a humans life. It was just that it was his life that grated me. The question of who he was, was gnawing away at me too. Why was his last name so familiar? Dammit. I brought my mind back y/n. But that didn’t help my frustration with James. Because of him, she was in this situation.

The door opened and I looked up. It was the nurse. I ignored her as she shuffled round me, performing her normal administrations. The door opened again but I kept my eyes on y/n. The sound of a clearing throat made me look up. It was James. I stood up, my body tensing. The bruise on his cheek was still quite bad but other than that he seemed fine and his blue eyes didn’t seem so challenging today. I still stood my ground and greeted him with nothing but coldness.

“How is she?”

His voice was deep and gravelly. His head was tilted to the side as he examined me and then her. A frown on his face. Was this guy for real? I clenched my fists at my side.

“Who are you?”

I don’t know if it was my tone of voice or the question, but his eyes snapped back to me and he squinted at me confused.

“I’m not sure I understand the question. I’m J….”

“Don’t give me that. Who. Are. You?” I wasn’t having any of his bullshit.

He just looked more confused and I’d had it. I wanted answers. I stalked round the room and grabbed his shitty trench coat by the collar making him look at me. Look at me properly. Why was he wearing a coat? Was he leaving? How could he leave her like this?

“Don’t lie to me. I’m tired and pissed and I need you to tell me who you really are. Now.”

I saw his eyes widen as I pulled a knife from my pocket and held it to his side. He gulped and looked down. I wasn’t fucking around. It didn’t add up. His last name. The little damage done to him when y/n was… I searched his face. I’d never been this close to his face before. Or maybe I had. Dejavu flickered through me again. Images breaking through a murky fog at the back of my head again. It was too much. I slammed him against the wall for the second time.

“Tell me who you are?!”

“Dean!”

…………………

[notsofly]

Ties in Blood Chapter 6

@mrswhozeewhatsis @impala-dreamer @squirrelnotsam @idreamofplaid @winchestergirl-13

Chapter 6

Her mind went blank as Aaliyah stared at the man who had aged more than his share in the past several years. A whirlwind of all the possible scenarios passed through her mind in her attempt of sorting out the shock. A cough beside her brought her back around.

“Sorry, sir,” Aaliyah apologized. “I’m Agent O’Hare and this is my partner Agent Plant.” She pulled out the spare badge and id that Dean had. “We’re here following up about a case from a couple years ago.” She put her badge back in the pocket she pulled it from.

“We understand that you’ve had a history of …” Dean started before being stopped by an upheld hand from the man.

“I know why you’re here,” the man told them. “Come in and I’ll answer any questions you have.”

Aaliyah glanced over to Dean, who gave her a little head tilt. He saw no reason to refuse. She started in first as the man led the way into the kitchen.

“I have thought about finding you for years, Aaliyah,” the man said, opening the fridge and pulled out some bottles of water. “And your brother. I’ve missed so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean cut in, coming up along side Aaliyah at the island. “But who are you? I’m not one to sit and have a conversation…”

“If you really are who I think you are,” Aaliyah interrupted. “Why didn’t you try and find us years ago?”

“I’m Casey,” he introduced to Dean. “As for your assumptions, yes. I am your and Xander’s father. I …” Casey looked down at the bottle in his hand, turning it in place. “I got so caught up in hunting, especially when I tried finding your mother. After what the Djinn did… I hunted for a while before stepping away. All the death and injury, I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“So. You just … settled down here save in the city without trying to look for us,” Aaliyah argued. “Some father you are.” She started for the door.

“Liyra, please.”

“Please what?” She spun around. “Please stay and listen while you explain away the past several years you spent hunting? While you went off hunting djinn, wendigos, and everything else that went bump in the night? What was the point?”

“I wanted to make the world save for you two.” Casey’s voice rose in countenance to Aaliyah’s. “Is that a crime?”

“It’s a crime to leave your children unattended.” Aaliyah startled herself with how low her voice went. “It fucks with them in so many ways. Have a nice life; hope it ends up like how my childhood was.” She turned back around and left the house. She reached the impala when the sound of a closing door reached her.

“You okay, kid?” Dean asked as he rounded around the car to the driver’s side.

“I don’t know. It’s good to know he didn’t end up dead.” Aaliyah slid into the front seat. “But to know he didn’t even attempt to find me or Xander when he gave up hunting…How would you feel if your dad did that?”

“Pretty damn awful.” The car turned over. “Let’s get back to the motel.”

***

Aaliyah stared at the motel door through the windshield, her mind blank. During the drive back she had attempted to form something in way of explanation to tell Xander what she found. Nothing had been forthcoming. She sighed in her way out of the car and to the motel room.

“Son of a…” Xander cut of his curse when Aaliyah stepped in. “Is it true; that he just quit hunting and didn’t give one shit about us?”

Aaliyah glanced over to her brother and nodded. “Like it was something everyone did.” She grabbed a change of clothes and ducked into the bathroom. “Where’s Amanda?”

“Right here,” her college friend called out, followed by a door closing. “Made a food run. What’s up?”

“Let’s get back to Michigan. There’s nothing here. The trail’s been too cold to have found anything of use.” Aaliyah stepped out of the bathroom in her last pair of clean jeans and a clean tee shirt. She picked up the few items of hers that had been scattered in the room and stuffed them into her bag.

“Hold on a sec,” Dean started. “You’re just gonna give up just like that?”

“I started this almost four days ago trying to figure out what happened to my father and brother.” Aaliyah turned to face Dean, a shirt half covered in sludged off skin changer in a hand. She flashed him a thankful smile to him, grateful that he followed her lead. “I found Xander. The trail for our father … not so much.” She finished packing and started for the door, grabbing Amanda’s car keys.

“Aaliyah,” Xander called after her.

“He gave up on us,” Aaliyah fought to keep her voice low. She tossed her bag into the trunk and closed it. “He got out of hunting and settled down in a nice home in town; not a shack like the one we grew up in. I swear I saw a picture of him with a couple other people; family people, Xander.”

“Then let him have that life,” Xander told her, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Let him know that we’re doing fine and won’t know how well we’re doing. Speaking of which…” The motel door opened before Dean and Amanda emerged. “I wanna know what you’re up to.”

“I’ll make sure she calls you every week,” Amanda assured him. “And that she sends out a graduation invite to you.”

“You’ll keep me in the loop as well,” Dean requested. “And no more hunts.”

“I promise to the first; and only if they’re local,” Aaliyah compromised. “Sides, can’t be calling you all the time when a case pops up.” She flashed him a smile.

“You’d make a good hunter,” Dean told her.

“Thanks. I did have help with you and Amanda.”

“Glad that I don’t have to hide that part from you anymore,” Amanda commented. “We gotta get going if we’re to get back to Michigan in time for Monday class.”

Aaliyah shared a hug with Xander before turning to Dean. “You keep my number, Winchester.”

“Wouldn’t lose it for the world.”

Two Years Later

Aaliyah looked in the mirror and adjusted her cap and tassel. She had attempted to keep what little she had for breakfast from ending up in the toilet. She overestimated the hunt time just a little. It had been sheer luck Aaliyah thought ahead in taking her graduation items with her on the hunt. Aaliyah settled for how her commencement sat against her body, and left the restroom and jogged over to where her group of students had gathered for the processional. She ignored the subtle glances toward her. There hadn’t been time for a full blown make up coverage; just enough to hide the bandages and mask the small scratches. She made it to her seat and fought off dozing off. The speeches dragged on and her chin dropped to her chest. Someone nudged her awake. Startled, Aaliyah jumped up as the rest of her row stood.

She followed along and merged into the queue that led up the stage. With each name announced came cheers from around the stadium; family and friends of each graduate. Aaliyah doubted that there was anyone in the crowd for her; even when she told Xander and Dean about it. The line before Aaliyah dwindled down to it was just her standing before the stairs that led onto the stage.

“Aaliyah Fisher,” her name was announced.

The student behind Aaliyah nudged her. Her mind clicked that she had been called and moved her feet. There was polite applause from the facility members on stage and scattered throughout the stadium. The loudest cheers had nearly been drowned out if it hadn’t been for the air horn and a large cardboard sign held up that read in bold letters: Way to Go Win-chester. Aaliyah fought against the tilt her head wanted to take as she stepped up and accepted her degree with a handshake. She waved up toward the sign as she stepped off the stage and back down into the seats.

She joined her graduating class in the sitting area and waited for the last of the students. When the last had taken their seat and the president stepped forward and presented to the gathered crowd the graduating class of 2005. Aaliyah moved her tassel over and smiled. The processional music started playing and the first of the facility descended from the stage. After them down the main aisle started the students.

***

Aaliyah closed the file folder and dropped it into the pile of other completed files. She had been lucky and had gotten a job in nursing in the first few months after graduating. The other nurses and doctors that were on staff at the local hospital seemed to have welcomed her well enough. Aaliyah sensed that there were things they were holding back. She glanced over at the clock and mentally checked when the full moon rose that night. The radio at the nurse’s station startled Aaliyah in its crackle to life. With the exception of a drunk being carried in by their friends, the night’s shift had been rather quiet.

“Garden City, this is Tommy with Bus 4 coming in with a white male in his mid-twenties with apparent wild animal maul wounds. ETA ten minutes.”

“Copy that, Tommy,” Aaliyah responded as the ER staff started their organized chaotic prep for the incoming ambulance.

She rushed out to meet the ambulance as it rolled up. It had been the one thing she had managed to convince the staff letting her do. Aaliyah figured with her limited knowledge of things that went bump in the night, she would be able to treat the wounds better than her co-workers. The back door opened and the EMTs jumped out. She rushed over as the gurney wheels hit the ground and scanned the wounds as her mind raced through all the potential animals that may have mauled the guy. Most of it was on the left side of the torso, like the animal had gone for the heart. Werewolf attack. Aaliyah held in a sigh. Sure, they might be able to keep the poor bastard from dying, but there was a pretty good chance of him being infected.

Aaliyah worked her way to the man’s head, wanting to make sure she was the only one to see any first signs and symptoms of the werewolf infection. She didn’t want to know what the attending doctor and gaggle of nurses would do – short of freak and run – once those started. Keeping an eye on the monitors, Aaliyah swore she saw a twitch of a finger from the patient.

A flutter of a closed eye. Her heart threatened to escape her chest. Could have been his body just doing body things.

A shoulder rolled in just a way Aaliyah would have missed if she hadn’t been paying attention. He was conscious and waiting for the opportune moment to strike out.

Aaliyah leaned down to his ear. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” she whispered. “Not with all these hunters here.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat. “There’s no hunters here.”

Aaliyah reached up from her shoe and placed a small silver blade to the man’s neck. He hissed from the contact. “If there’s no hunters here, how’d I know about using a silver blade against you?” There was something off if he knew about hunters. Aaliyah glanced up over to the half patched up wounds, her mind working.

“There’s some wounds on his leg that are a month old,” one of her fellow nurses pointed out.

He was already a werewolf.

“You’re all going to be either dead or werewolves before the night’s done,” he told Aaliyah.

She slipped her blade back in her shoe before moving to grab the smallest needle she could hide in a hand. Aaliyah would have to do it quick as possible. The man was starting to move more, which would either help or hinder her. Pulling the plunger up in the needle in her hand, Aaliyah threaded her way down to his feet and grabbed one just as he started thrashing against the staff. She kept hold with her free hand and stuck the needle between two toes, forcing herself to keep her eyes on his face. Guilt seeped in as she watched him die. She took an oath to save people in the medical field. Yet … the man was a threat as a werewolf and by injecting air into his blood stream, Aaliyah saved more people if she allowed him to live.

She slipped away, putting the used needle into the biohazard box as she went. The rest of the team struggled to revive him even as the monitors and machines argued otherwise. Round two with a werewolf and she survived again. It was a little less life threatening compared to the first, yet she had been the one to give the killing blow.

“There’s gonna be times where we’re not gonna save ‘em all,” the doctor told Aaliyah. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

She did a double look at him as her mind caught up to the present. “Oh, I know. I’m going out for some air.”

[republicstandard]

Can Multiculturalism Work? Part III: The View from 5,000 Feet

Can diverse people of all cultures get along? Yes, but only if there is One Culture to Rule Them All.

Also, leftist compassion is naïve and unconcerned with outcomes. It’s been a minute, but that’s about where we left off last time and the time before. Since then, the forces of the Left have lost their minds over the recrudescence of the Third Reich in the person of Orange-Hitler, whose stormtrooper battalions are putting immigrant children in concentration camps, or something.

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Okay, perhaps a lot has happened in the month or so since our last installment. But the idea behind this column has always been the big picture, the wide-angle lens. Now that we’ve heard the case for hegemonism and taken a stab at unmasking liberal compassion, let’s take a look at the view from 5,000 feet—the reactionary view.

The reactionary view is conditioned by the idea that power exists, and power is reducible to force. Of course, the whole point of force is violence, which is equivalent, by some lights, to conflict plus uncertainty.

“But wait,” you say, “I’m a ‘90s-to-early-2000’s kid, and I distinctly remember all those girls screaming for the Backstreet Boys. Why, I’ll bet you if Howie had told them to, they would have fought to the death for the chance to become impregnated with his child—and that would have made for a much better music video.” You’re right, dear reader, it would have made for a much better video, not least because the idea of a Backstreet Boys groupie going full Red Sonja is really, really funny.

No matter what, in the end cultural power means some degree of control over physical power, and physical power is always the final argument.

This is easy to prove if you take a moment to think about it. If you hop in a time machine and try to fight Mike Tyson at his peak, you are going to lose because Peak-Quality-Mike-Tyson has a greater capacity to project physical, muscular force in a violent fashion. On the other hand, even Peak Mike Tyson is going to lose to a grizzly bear or a gorilla.

The point of this silly digression is that we can step around moral questions about who should win or who we want to win in order to see who will win. Not that anyone is particularly interested in dressing up a Tyson-fights-grizzly match in morality—but it is a good frame to keep in mind.

The more power you have, the more force you can bring to bear (pardon the pun) to solve a violent problem, which is simply a matter of conflict and uncertainty. Got it? Great. Now strap in, because we’re rocketing 5,000 feet up and hundreds of thousands of years into the past.

We’ll be taking a ‘Martian’ view of history, in the Dan Carlin sense: trying to make sense of history through a wide-angle lens, as if we were Martians—or trying to explain it to Martians, take your pick.

Five thousand feet is almost a mile high (it’s pithier to say than ‘The View from 5,280 Feet’), and that still leaves us in the troposphere, the lowest level of the atmosphere of the planet Earth, the third planet around the star called Sol, in the galaxy Milky Way—but 5,000 feet is high enough, and 300,000 years is far back enough.

As it so happens, 300,000 years, or a bit more, is how far back Homo sapiens seems to have been a going concern. Without going into our hominin ancestors’ much older and extremely fascinating history in the African continent (we weren’t always Homo sapiens, after all), we all lived in hunter-gather societies until the much later advent of agriculture about 12,000 years ago—and then only in a select grouping of societies in a part of the Middle East.

Self-control became an important feature for individuals who were reproductively successful. And self-control translates into conscience.

According to one incredibly intriguing theory, modern Homo sapiens evolved morality in the context of hunter-gather bands hunting for ungulates, hooved mammals. This early morality was rather concerned with the sharing of meat with a mentality of equity. It made sense for every hunter and his family to get a more-or-less equal share of the meat for every kill, because that kept everyone happy, healthy, and (one presumes) motivated for the next big kill.

Besides, in an era before refrigeration, the best possible larder for all-that-aurochs-steak-you-can’t-eat-in-two-days was your band members. If you feed them today, then they’ll feed you tomorrow, and the day after, and probably the day after that—however long it takes, until it’s your lucky day and you kill the aurochs again.

Anthropologist Christopher Boehm’s entire theory about the origins of conscience and altruism is utterly absorbing and very well-argued. Here is the extremely short form, in his own words:

“People started hunting large ungulates, or hoofed mammals. They were very dedicated to hunting, and it was an important part of their subsistence. But my theory is that you cannot have alpha males if you are going to have a hunting team that shares the meat fairly evenhandedly, so that the entire team stays nourished. In order to get meat divided within a band of people who are by nature pretty hierarchical, you have to basically stomp on hierarchy and get it out of the way. I think that is the process.

“My hypothesis is that when they started large game hunting, they had to start really punishing alpha males and holding them down. That set up a selection pressure in the sense that, if you couldn’t control your alpha tendencies, you were going to get killed or run out of the group, which was about the same as getting killed. Therefore, self-control became an important feature for individuals who were reproductively successful. And self-control translates into conscience.”

Where did power lie in these hunter-gatherer bands—which, to be clear, were the default setting of human social organization for most of the time Homo sapiens have been around on this planet? Who had power?

If we follow Boehm’s ideas, power resided in the band. The members of the band united in a kin-based grouping, a grouping which probably would have happened anyway—primates do tend to be social creatures, after all—but a grouping which gained added and special importance as a result of human culture, language, and big-game hunting.

The greatest social threat these people would have faced was bullying alphas, the worse of these being prehistoric psychopaths who were capable of murder. On that note, we should probably acknowledge Steven Pinker’s magisterial work The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined, which establishes in no uncertain terms that primitive societies were far more violent than modern civilized societies, and various civilized societies have undergone massive declines in violence in more than one context and time period.

The rest is easy to summarize. Humans invented agriculture, not once but on several different occasions in staggeringly different parts of the world, and that in turn allowed different agricultural societies at different times on different continents to evolve into advanced civilizations, with hierarchical class structures, priesthoods, and occupational specialization.

Those civilizations also set about trying to conquer the world, or at least their various parts of it, by military conquest and, with time, through religions that attempted to go beyond the purely local, the particular, and reach for a more universal vision.

(This book is good, and so is this one, and this one).

We’ll use our time machine to barrel through thousands of years, taking snapshots of historical tableaux as they pass.

Alexander the Great battles Darius III at Gaugamela.

Roman legions and ships swarm across the Mediterranean and much of Western Europe.

Norse longboats up the Seine. Mongol horsemen thunder out of the Eurasian steppe and conquer practically everything. And something about Buddha and Christ and Muhammad.

Also, we learned to make bread out of air (we’ll come back to that).

Where did the power of an Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, or Genghis Khan come from? From their armies, to be sure, but also from the societies those armies were drawn from.

Let’s simplify: Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Genghis Khan, and every other conqueror, king, and princeling had power because of the rules governing power in their societies—rules that included inheritance, office, and personal achievement.

Our snapshots capture a few more images—the Albigensian Crusade, the Ottomans taking Constantinople, the Tokugawa establishing their bakufu in Japan, Louis XIV building Versailles, seizing Strasbourg, and expelling the Huguenots, his contemporary the Kangxi Emperor suppressing the Revolt of the Three Feudatories…

We note the ascendancy of faith in so many of these societies, and how it has changed the ways in which they organize religious activity. This seems significant, but as Martians observing it from 5,000 feet, we are detached from the elaborate thought-worlds of deities, saints, martyrs, and miracles, and the social, cultural, and political systems they permeate.

We skip over a few centuries, confident in our ability to make sense of what we are seeing with only a few snapshots.

A world in which the most powerful nation on earth is gripped with guilt over its racist past—oh wait, we landed in a New York Times series.

Or maybe MTV Decoded.

Or Huffington Post.

Or maybe even NowThis Politics.

Hey, Waka Waka (This Time for Africa).

Clearly something has gone wrong. We have somehow become stuck in a cultural milieu in which deconstructing whiteness is an actual thing, and Tim Wise has a career lecturing his fellow whites on their Whiteness and ‘White privilege.’

We descend from our 5,000-foot height to try to make sense of it all.

Through numerous conversations and some Martian mind-reading technology that allows us to abstract patterns of thinking into major themes, we make some interesting discoveries that only leave us more confused than ever.

There seems to be a conviction, among many but not all inhabitants of this strangely self-hating civilization, that the past until recently was more or less irredeemably evil. The nature of the putative evils seems to reflect patterns of gender and family organization, ethnic conflict, nation- and empire-building, invasion, and enslavement which we have been observing around the world to a greater or lesser degree.

And yet, not only do the denizens of this strange new world believe that their past is particularly to be reviled, in seeming ignorance of the rest of history, they insist on putting the blame on one particular group which has been historically dominant.

Monuments are toppled because they represent too offensive a reminder of said group’s historical domination. Business owners bend over backward to appease the demands of individuals belonging to particular groups that can claim ‘victim’ status. It even infects fringe movements ostensibly devoted to liberty.

We recall something about religious guilt and wonder if there is a connection. Or—we go back a few frames, a few decades—perhaps China’s Cultural Revolution?

All of this is incredibly baffling. How can a civilization be so gripped by the desire for abnegation and effacement?

The more we look and analyze and reflect, the more baffling it gets.

These societies seem to be possessed by a kind of Cultural Revolution against their own cultures, against the peoples that made them possible in the first place. This is, apparently, social justice and multiculturalism.

How can we get un-stuck from this frame? Let us scan our archives, spin the globe, and choose a non-Western country; and then construct a computer simulation of an alternate version of that country, in our Ship of the Imagination.

Our alternate version of that country will be an anti-country, in which the Cathedral, which is to say the mass media and higher education forces of Good and Correct Opinion-Making, will be turned against the dominant culture.

Flick-flick-flick-flick.

Our choice is the Islamic Republic of Iran. Drawing on our archives, we quickly realize this country has historically been known as Persia. It also has a rich and distinct cultural and historical heritage, and is very ethnically diverse.

Perfect.

We program our simulation, sifting through centuries and then millennia of information about history, culture, and everything else, and then we put on our VR glasses, push the button, and poof—we’re in Anti-Persia.

Since our purposes are rather specific, we’ll zero in on Anti-Persia’s Cathedral, the mass media and institutes of higher education that function as its organs of Correct Opinion-Making.

The first thing we notice is that the Anti-Persian Cathedral does an awful lot of complaining about ethnic Persians and ‘Persianness.’

Major newspapers amplify the grievances of middle-class college students from the Azeri, Gilaki, Kurd, Arab, Lur, Baloch, and Turkmen minorities. These ‘Persons of Anti-Persianness’ (PAPs) complain about how Persian everything is in historic Persia.

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There are college courses about Persian privilege, many of which seek to ‘deconstruct’ Persianness as a myth.

“There’s no such thing as a real Persian,” the line goes. “Persian identity was a weapon created by the shahs to marginalize PAPs.”

Professional Anti-Persian activists rail against Persian identity, ‘Persian supremacy,’ ‘Persian privilege,’ and Persian historical figures.

The history of Anti-Persia reads as one long history of unending, unrelenting horror, persecution, and suffering, all of it meted out by Persians on a dizzying array of Babylonians, Lydians, Egyptians, Greeks, and other victims.

The Achaemenid Empire, the greatest Persian imperial state and one of the greatest empires in world history, is demonized and reviled for its imperial conquests.

Indeed, the movie 300 is practically required watching in college history courses across Anti-Persia, and is received not as a mythologized action movie but rather a heroic and stirring tale of anti-Persian resistance (‘anti-Persian’ with a small a, not to be confused with Anti-Persia the anti-Persian Persia). It is treated perhaps something like the TV miniseries Roots.

Persepolis in Shiraz, Iran. Ninara – Flickr

And on and on it goes. The Sassanids are reviled like the Achaemenids, but the conquering Muslim Arabs and the Umayyad and ‘Abbasid dynasties are actually talked up as a way to help Arab minority students feel affirmed and empowered beneath the suffocating weight of Persian privilege and Persian supremacy they must endure every day in Anti-Persia.

Worse, the peerless verse of Firdawsi is denigrated and attacked for its anti-Arab, Persian supremacist bent:

But for the Persians I will weep, and for The House of Sasan ruined by this war: Alas for their great crown and throne, for all The royal splendor destined now to fall, To be fragmented by the Arabs’ might; The stars decree for us defeat and flight. Four hundred years will pass in which our name Will be forgotten and devoid of fame.

Firdawsi, writing in the late 10th to very early 11th century, wrote the above verses from the perspective of a Sassanid Persian general in the 7th century (think of it as historical fiction) facing an invading army of early Muslim Arabs. In Anti-Persia, they are deemed hate-speech, and trigger warnings are placed on literature courses teaching this most venerable classic of Persian literature.

Even this is not enough for the cultural Vandals, and a coalition of them organize to demand the complete removal of Firdawsi from literature courses.

In all of this, we notice a curious thing: Persians are not allowed to organize on the basis of ethnic Persian identity. The slightest whiff of Persian identitarianism produces screaming calls about ‘neo-Sassanids’ and ‘neo-Safavids.’

The Cathedral, of course, reinforces this at every opportunity. Not only are pro-Persian nationalists and activists labeled ‘neo-Sassanids’ and ‘neo-Safavids,’ they are branded as ‘hate groups.’

Scanning the brains of every person in Anti-Persia, we have to admit that we do find flickers of ethnic in-group preference, much of it subconscious, in the Persian population. However, they are not exceptional in this, and other groups appear, if anything, to have stronger in-group preferences—or at least to be far more vocal about them.

These preferences are certainly associated with some antipathy toward other groups, but the curious thing is that despite the Persians being demonized, they are not particularly given to antipathy toward Arabs, Azeris, Balochis, and the rest—on the contrary, they are desperate to ensure that they do not say anything that might smack of pro-Persian bias, or of prejudice against other groups.

They use a curious word for such prejudice, aryism, which we eventually untangle to mean ‘preferring one’s own people’ and also ‘disfavoring other peoples.’

Can other groups be aryist, either to each other or to Persians? Opinion is divided, with some claiming there can be a sort of ‘reverse aryism,’ but many others—and certainly the most respectable—all agree that aryism is particularly a sin of Persians against everyone else in Anti-Persia, because Persians, and Persians alone, possess power and systemic advantage, which connects to the structural and systemic aryism under which PAPs suffer.

The third thing we notice is that despite all the demonization and complaints hurled at them, the Persians seem to be necessary for keeping Anti-Persia running. They are well-represented in political life, even in the media and higher education (the Anti-Persian Cathedral), business, the skilled trades, all of it.

They also foot a disproportionate share of taxes—yes, even though they are the largest group—consume less welfare than many other groups and have relatively high rates of law-abidingness.

Yes, Persian guilt is quite the phenomenon, but what’s the logic behind it? Why are so many Persians gripped with this overpowering need to feel guilty for the (putative, arguable) ‘evils’ of their forefathers?

After all, as some brave Persians point out, it is hardly as if Anti-Persia has a uniquely brutal history—have you heard of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, the conquest of Mexico, and the American Civil War? Other countries and cultures have done great evil too!

If we want to explain why Anti-Persia is Anti-Persia instead of Persia, we need to really look at the ruling ideology and see how it benefits the power structure.

Of course, we’ll also want to try to understand why Anti-Persian society accepts this narrative and goes along with it.

True, people do not like to incur the anger and displeasure of their peers, but why do their peers believe it? Ultimately we have to come up with some kind of answer for why this set of ideas, instead of some other, more pro-Persian set of ideas, rules Anti-Persia.

The declaration of Shi'ism as the state religion of Iran in 1501 by Shah Ismail - Safavid dynasty

When we look at the politics of Anti-Persia, we notice that there are two major political parties, each of which uses quite distinctive language. True, Anti-Persian citizens often grumble that they are too much alike, but everyone knows they are playing two different games.

The first major party claims to champion the average person, no matter who they are or where they come from. They believe in something called hamsar, a concept we might translate, in our questionable Anti-Persian, as “everyone should receive what everyone else receives.”

We’ll refer to them as Party H for now.

The second major party (also) claims to champion the average person, no matter who they are or where they come from. However, they believe in a couple of different things. While they pay lip service to the Hamsar Doctrine, they’re more concerned with something called taarof. While this might be more literally translated as “manners,” for this party—Party T—it essentially means “doing things the way they have long been done."

This belief in taarof intersects to a degree with a belief in something called azadi, a peculiar idea that means “acting in a manner one has willed to act.”

How do Party H and Party T manage to run Anti-Persia between them? How do they engage with the dominant ideology of Anti-Persianness, and what is their stake in it?

For Party H, the doctrine of hamsar is politically important because all Anti-Persian citizens should receive what everyone else receives, but they do not. Again, Persians generally do better than other groups, although of course not all Persians manage to do as well as for themselves as other Persians, economically speaking.

Best of all, Party H has held enough power—sometimes overwhelming power—at high enough levels in the past in order to put into place a set of arrangements in which the government takes some money from everyone who earns money and redistributes it to those who do not earn above a certain level, or at all.

Party H sells this set of policies to the voters as mehr, meaning “strong positive affection.”

As a consequence, Party H’s voting base includes most of the non-Persian groups in Anti-Persia, who usually vote overwhelmingly for H candidates. However, it also includes many Persians. These Persians tend to see Persianness as an elitist concept, one they associate with the departed shah and the traditional landowners and tribal chieftains who composed much of the pre-Anti-Persian elite—and with the heads of the major businesses who, in effect, replaced them.

As for Party T, a big part of their game is playing off of Party H. They claim allegiance to some form of hamsar, but also claim Party H has gone too far and neglected taarof, doing things the way they have always been done.

Something struggles to reassert itself in our memories.

To be sure, Party T also believes in azadi, “acting in a manner one has willed to act,” but even this seems to be almost a reaction to hamsar, since after all, “everyone should receive what everyone else receives” rather conflicts with the notion that everyone should be able to act in a manner they have willed to act.

What in the world is going on here?

We dig into our archives, our thoughts flickering through hundreds of years of historical events and personages. Entire centuries dissolve and are abstracted into historical patterns and narratives in the blink of an eye.

In passing we note the Axial Age of 800-200 BCE, the great transformation of belief from the particular to the transcendent across so much of the ancient world, including Persia. Interesting, but not quite what we are looking for.

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We note the great revolutions of the period sometimes called ‘modernity,’ and realize that a major theme here is the involvement of the people—conceptualized as a super-organismic whole—in political life.

We note the Industrial Revolution, and note in particular the leveling effect of moving from a world in which 19 out of 20 people on Earth lived on less than $2.00/day to a world in which fewer than 1 in 10 do so.

We note in particular the spectacular development of the Haber-Bosch process for converting atmospheric nitrogen to fertilizer. Thanks to this process, without which about 40% of the world’s population would starve to death, obesity is a growing global public health problem.

Something struggles to reassert itself in our memories.

Social levelling… hierarchy… food…

Christopher Boehm’s words: “In order to get meat divided within a band of people who are by nature pretty hierarchical, you have to basically stomp on hierarchy and get it out of the way. I think that is the process.”

Have we solved the riddle of Anti-Persia? Let’s see if we can construct a reasonable narrative. Traditionally, Persian society was hierarchical and built on taarof, “doing things the way they have long been done.”

But then a revolution, or a series of them, turned Persia into Anti-Persia. The older revolutionary rhetoric centered on the idea of azadi, “acting in a manner one has willed to act,” but with time the Hamsar Doctrine, “everyone should receive what everyone else receives,” took root and has grown and grown ever since.

All of this was fundamentally possible because of the changes in economic organization and technology which resulted in large concentrations of people gathered into the cities, where they could put pressure on the nerve centers of power to a degree unprecedented in traditional society.

With the throne vacant and the altars toppled, Anti-Persia became a mess of ethnic and class tensions. Over time, the tyranny of rising expectations meant that the focus of revolutionary efforts moved from ‘merely’ abolishing class distinctions and establishing reasonable working conditions in Anti-Persian rug factories to abolishing Persianness itself.

Anti-Persianness and anti-aryism caught on as a power-strategy because it could weaponize ethnic, class, and gender grievances against the old Persian elite and the businessmen who effectively replaced them, and Party H was born. This power-strategy now operates as a feedback loop between Cathedral and populace, who agitate for ever more hamsar and claim to be ever more oppressed, even as the industrial technology and the alchemy of air allow poor people to become fat.

Party H has not been able to dominate political life entirely, however, and the result is a never-ending tug-of-war between the party of more-or-less permanent revolution and the party of putative resistance to said permanent revolution. The tug-of-war provides some measure of stability, but over time Party H has moved the dial of Anti-Persia decidedly toward the Hamsar Doctrine of “everyone should receive what everyone else receives.”

As Anti-Persia becomes ever more anti-Persian, it also becomes ever more multicultural. After all, if Persia was an oppressive historical monstrosity, and if hamsar should replace Persianness, why not import people from foreign lands beyond Anti-Persia, the better to dilute Persianness?

On the basis of this logic, Party H colludes with big business interests—despite its officially anti-business rhetoric—to import large numbers of Hephthalites as cheap labor. The Hephthalites vote for Party H to give them ever-more lavish benefits paid for by the Persians, justifying this as reparations for past Sassanid aggression.

One may choose to believe that Anti-Persia will progress toward a multicultural utopia. Another possibility is a socially fractured country, paralyzed by ethnic and class conflict and a wave of uncontrolled Hephthalite crime it cannot bring itself to be honest about. (After all, to call out Hephthalite crime would be aryism).

The world dissolves around us, and the simulation ends.

What is the great lesson of Anti-Persia? Is there a lesson, or is it simply an incredibly silly exercise?

Anti-Persia may well be preposterously silly—surely no society could be that self-effacing, after all—but as silly and unrealistic as it is, it points us toward an important truth. If the people hold power through the Party H-Party T system, that power-strategy is every bit as much a question of control over force, over conflict plus uncertainty, as all the other historical scenarios we have engaged with.

It is the nature of all revolutions to denounce the past. Anti-Persia poses as a new dispensation, aggressively brandishing its curious revolutionary doctrine of hamsar and its anti-Persian culture of critique, but it is nothing more than a power grab. History has not ended, only turned over a new leaf.

From this perspective, multiculturalism is simply a part of an anti-hegemonist power-strategy. It provides cheap Hephthalite labor to big businesses, and discourages ethnic tensions and in-group preferences, particularly on the part of the slim Persian majority, which could conceivably get in the way of anti-Persian ethnic tensions and tolerance of non-Persian/PAP in-group preference.

Multiculturalism, and the broader complex of Omni-Compassionism, relies on division and lends itself quite readily to animosity. It pits poor against rich, women against men, and non-Persians against Persians. It also pits everyone against Persian nativists and identitarians who want to revive Persian identity, take pride in Persian history and culture, and end the mass migration of Hephthalites.

Opposition is dangerous for Omni-Compassionism, because it requires so many people to make so many sacrifices. From the vantage point of 5,000 feet and 300,000 years, it is easy to see that in-group preference and between-group conflict, whether at the level of the band, tribe, kingdom, ethnic group, or religion, constitutes a much more common and easy to understand pattern than universalism.

The fact that Omni-Compassionism and its Hamsar Doctrine creates winners and losers means that there will always be an incentive to reject it.

Perhaps Omni-Compassionism will yet triumph over those who would reject it, girdling the globe with a monoculture that is equal parts secular humanism and “social justice.”

Perhaps the intellectual history of the 21st century will be told as a sort of dialog between Steven Pinker and the various causes funded by George Soros.

Perhaps… but perhaps not.

In the end, the greatest weakness of Omni-Compassionism may be the way that it encourages identity when it is against the hegemonic identity of any given country. Not only does this ultimately incentivize some Persians to fight back against anti-Persianness and the Great Hephthalite Replacement, it also requires Omni-Compassionism to keep pushing, long after it has worn out its welcome.

Omni-Compassionism has gotten much mileage out of branding the Persian resistance, the nativists, nationalists, and identitarians, as “hate groups.” It is likely, however, that if Omni-Compassionism ever managed to eliminate all Persianness in Anti-Persia, it would immediately run into challenges keeping its diverse coalition together.

Meanwhile, endless Omni-Compassionate demands—for Persian gold, for Persian culture, for Persian identity itself—are breeding a new generation of awakened Persians.

Perhaps the future of our imagined Anti-Persia is not yet written. Perhaps it will defeat Omni-Compassionism and reclaim its identity, culture, and sense of self-determination and destiny.

Can multiculturalism work? This was our original query. From the vantage point of 5,000 feet and 300,000 years, we have to admit that we cannot claim, with perfect knowledge, whether multiculturalism of the anti-hegemonist sort can work. Perhaps it can be made to work.

However, we know that Omni-Compassionism, including multiculturalism, is not the first effort at a universal unification of humanity. The great universalizing religions of Christianity and Islam constitute two of the more successful attempts from the premodern world. The histories of both faiths are riddled with sectarian fighting and bloody wars even between nations of the same sect.

Looking down from our lofty height, our eyes piercing the veil of time and taking in three hundred millennia, we admit we cannot know for sure—and yet, we can see the many fault-lines and fractures, the many aspects of human nature and human social nature that Omni-Compassionism must paper over in order to be made to work.

On the other hand, we have any number of examples of societies with a dominant culture and identity of some kind working very well. Some of them, such as the Achaemenids, Romans, and Ottomans, were sprawling hegemonist multicultural empires.

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The wager the multiculturalist must make, then, is that the ideology of Omni-Compassionism will be able to outweigh the many forces that oppose it—conservatism, tradition, nationalism, patriotism, and simple in-group preference. It must continue to do this even in the teeth of a demographic situation which is projected to be increasingly unfavorable to it.

A utopian ideology versus the weight of three hundred thousand years… now that is an interesting bet on the future of a civilization.

from Republic Standard | Conservative Thought & Culture Magazine https://ift.tt/2tvX4Rw via IFTTT

[lucyariablog]

Who Would You Add to Your Content Marketing Team?

Content marketing team members’ titles may differ from company to company, but the tasks they are expected to perform are somewhat standard across the board – writing, editing, designing, publishing, and distributing.

But what if you could add the skill set of someone who works in another functional area – from another department or even outside your industry? What role or person would you want to incorporate into your team?

We asked the presenters at Content Marketing World 2017 what they would do. Their answers are enlightening – and in most cases, realistic.

Make the pictures move

I’d love to have a documentary videographer to document and share what really happens in the practice of law and how we try to keep up with changes in the industry. Ruth Carter, attorney and owner, Carter Law Firm

A film producer. I’d love to get high quality video into our content mix for sharing through our numerous channels. If I could have anything, it would be that. Jeff Renoe, content strategist, Dickson

I’d hire a film producer to get high quality #video into our content mix, says @renoe. #CMWorld Click To Tweet

Bring on tech

I would love to get a software engineer/website developer on our marketing team. As the realms of technology and marketing increasingly join forces, interactive experiences are only becoming more crucial for brands. More interactive content, apps, and tools for your customers and prospective buyers can make your brand stand out from the crowd.

We work on cross-department projects to achieve this, but I would absolutely want to permanently have an engineer just for marketing! Allen Gannett, CEO and founder, TrackMaven

A developer. There are a million things I want done on my website and have nobody to do them. Chad Pollitt, partner and vice president of audience, Native Advertising Institute

I’d hire a developer to my #contentmarketing team, says @ChadPollitt #CMWorld Click To Tweet

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: Hire for 4 Uncommon Content Marketing Roles

Explore the science of success

I would love to have a data scientist. Why? Because they can give all the quantifiable answers I am looking for – not just what content is performing best (I can look that up myself) but what am I missing? What is the data I have not telling me? Shira Abel, CEO, Hunter & Bard

I would add a fantastic analyst to my team. A great analyst can be an incredible asset in terms of helping you to determine what content is most appropriate for different audiences and different stages of their customer journeys. Every content marketing team needs a sharp numbers gal or guy to ask “why,” not just “how,” people behave. Zontee Hou, strategist, Convince & Convert

I would add a fantastic analyst to my #contentmarketing team, says @zontee_hou. #CMWorld Click To Tweet

I’d want someone who can understand and apply the decision-making science disciplines to content marketing – someone who knows how to bring disciplines like behavioral economics, social psychology, and neuroscience to life inside of messaging and content. Tim Riesterer, chief strategy and research officer, Corporate Visions

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: 10 Content Marketing Roles for the Next 10 Years

Look to the future

I’d add an economist to tell me the costs, benefits, workforce implications, and likely growth rates of every new technology on the horizon. That would help enormously in focusing me on what’s coming next that will grow fastest because it’s needed most and will give more than it costs. Kirk Cheyfitz, co-founder, Story Worldwide

Go for the pros

I would add a screenwriter – someone who knows how to tell a story in an arresting way. Chuck Hester, vice president, social media, T&T Creative

Add a screenwriter to your #contentmarketing team. They can tell story in arresting way. @ChuckHester #CMWorld Click To Tweet

I would add an investigative journalist – someone who is trained to write deep stories with massive impact. At least for the foreseeable future, there’s huge value in this kind of content. Matt Heinz, president, Heinz Marketing

I’d want a video journalist who is used to creating their own video. Journalists know how to create a story out of seemingly few details that their audience wants. They know how to tell stories. They must understand that the content isn’t a “sellout” but rather non-promotional. Heidi Cohen, chief content officer, Actionable Marketing Guide

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: Inside the Mind of a Journalist in the Business of Content Marketing

Think about the people

I’d get a psychologist. Don’t worry, my team hasn’t gone insane. At least, not yet. I think a psychologist can give 10 times more intel on a buyer persona than any of us. Our psychologist would constantly reach out to our target audience and take part in customer happiness tours to gather immense intel. Srinivasa Raghavan, founder and CEO, Animaker

I would add someone who has worked in client services or account management. These individuals are in tune with the technical answers clients need. They know the product/service and niche parts of the industry. They can serve as a huge asset to the marketing department by bringing their “in the trenches” experience to serve as a sounding board and a way to measure if your content ideas are relevant. Colleen Weston, marketing director, Britton Gallagher

I’m a fan of working with instructional designers, usually from the training team. They are content creators, but they are focused on learning and helping people to accomplish tasks. They often have insight into how to help people understand, and how to act. Matthew Pierce, learning and video ambassador, TechSmith Corp.

Reach for the stars (and make ’em laugh)

Ellen DeGeneres. That woman is a marketing and engagement genius. She naturally is able to market and draw attention to products without losing trust of her audience. I think there is a level of authenticity that she could bring to the content. John Hall, CEO, Influence & Co.

I’d have to add a comedian – Michael Jr., to be specific. I’d always know my “why” and we’d never stop laughing. Content should be fun, and throwing a comedian into the mix would just put it over the top. A comedian would also call you out on the obvious dumb stuff you do daily. Skyler Moss, director of digital marketing, HCSS

I'd add @Michaeljrcomedy to my #content team. I’d know my “why” & never stop laughing. @cskylermoss Click To Tweet

I would have someone who understands comedy or a comedy writer. If what you create adds value and is interesting to someone else and at the same time entertains them, isn’t that what gets shared and acknowledged? Mark Masters, managing director, The ID Group

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: Comedy Pro Reveals How to Bring Funny to Content [Video]

Draw outside the lines

A great barista. I would love to have a barista from Sunergos Coffee in Louisville within our team. John Bell, vice president enterprise digital marketing, Travelers

.@JBell99’s dream #contentmarketing team includes a great barista. #CMWorld Click To Tweet

Chief common sense officer. Jay Acunzo, creator and host, Unthinkable

Someone from Red Bull. They’ve done an incredible job of positioning themselves as a media company that makes a consumer product. I love how they’ve developed a content culture where the customer is the star, and they create awesome events and fun videos that get lots of publicity and views. Lisa Mattson, director of marketing and communications, Jordan Vineyard and Winery

I would find someone working for social justice with values that resonate with my company so that we could work together to make the world a better place. More companies need to stand up for gender equality, racial equality, tolerance, love, and harmony. Stop trying to just sell your products – that’s short-sighted and self-absorbed. Help improve the world every day with actions, partnerships, and communication efforts. Melissa Eggleston, UX specialist and content strategist, Melissa Eggleston Multimedia

Find someone working for social justice so we can work together to make the world a better place. @melissa_egg. Click To Tweet

I think we should constantly involve other experts (who are different to ourselves) in what we do – depending on what we are working on right now. My add-a-person list would, ideally, change constantly. Frank Thomas, director of content strategy and content marketing, adidas

That’s a wrap

While these CMWorld presenters would travel different paths to enhancing their content marketing team, their wish lists all center on a few key themes: learning how to use all that data being collected to make a bigger impact with your content, staying ahead of the curve in your industry (and in content marketing), and never forgetting to dream about – and truly consider – the possibilities.

That last note is what Donna Moritz, visual content strategist and founder of Socially Sorted, picked: “Hands down, it would be someone who is a triple threat – someone who can not only create great content, but also knows how to empower a team to create content quickly and easily, as well as how to empower an audience to create content about a brand. They also know how to amplify that content effectively.”

What role or person would you add to your content marketing team? Let us know in the comments.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: 10 Interview Questions to Help You Separate Content Marketing Rock Stars From Wannabes

Add skills to your content marketing team (or find some great talent) by attending Content Marketing World Sept. 5-8 in Cleveland, Ohio. Register today and use the code BLOG100 to save $100.

Cover image by Joseph Kalinowski/Content Marketing Institute

The post Who Would You Add to Your Content Marketing Team? appeared first on Content Marketing Institute.

from http://contentmarketinginstitute.com/2017/08/add-content-marketing-team/

[bongaboi]

Revons Plus Grand, Chapter 16

Revons Plus Grand

Chapter 16:

Chariots

Paris went on to win the game over Bordeaux, 3-0, with the return of Marco Verratti and Kevin Trapp setting up for some expert game management from Alex Hunter and Danny Williams. Morning came, and a lone busker from out his window in another flat in Boulogne Billancourt, his old and weathered fingers pounding an old and dusty grand piano, played some light Gospel music in English as a flock of doves flew toward the Bois to feast on some breadcrumbs. It was Saturday morning, and the light was just breaking through the clouds over the city of Paris. Actually, it was an old song by Bruce Hornsby, Across The River.

The cat tracker that the Hartmann Sisters created like to go different places around the city. The Saturday after another difficult shift for Paris Saint-Germain's men's first team away to Girondins de Bordeaux, it chose to actually get on The Metro and ride to the northeast suburbs of the city, the banlieues. In the background, a looping melody with infectious backbeat played, "Chariots" by Paper Route, an arrangement with some orchestral tones.

Georgette Lemare and Sadako Shimohara were watching the scenes from the impoverished parts of the metropolis on their tablets while riding on the shuttle to the Camp des Loges for their next shift. Defaced posters of Marine Le Pen on the walls. A vandalized building with crude rhetoric. Nique La Police. Fuck The Police. A mob of picketers, arms entwined in black and white, representing different persuasions, singing and chanting as they marched, passing by destructed vehicles, broken down windows, shards of glass and debris while the embattled law enforcement in riot gear watched from a distance. Later on, the cat would meet with them back at the apartment.

"Surreal, isn't it?" Jose asked Sadako. "It's all happening before our eyes."

"This is the modern era for you," she replied with a grim tone and an emotioness stare, watching the drama and feeling sympathy for the afflicted that were in full throat under partly cloudy Parisian skies. "If you want to be successful as a newcomer, you need to work hard, earn your bread and integrate into the mainstream society and its norms, otherwise, you end up with this."

"The many, the marginalized, the hopeless," said Mr. Sami with a grim expression of sympathy as the coach continued to roll along. "When their own nation will not give them a chance to work hard, to be respected, to be wanted and love, those from the departement of Seine-Saint-Denis resort to fleeing to the Middle East to join the Islamic State and waste their own lives because do not choose to integrate and be important tools in making our world safe."

"So I can see with my two eyes," said Jose, "Why Madame Le Pen, as I will call her now, is leading the polls and being tipped to take over the nation. This is all the hopeless in France can do, wage war against those who work hard to be great and successful because they lack the intelligence and self-respect to survive in this world. The only religion they know is the type of Islam that advocates violant means to avenge those who have been supposedly wronged by them."

Sadako looked out the window, her mind deep in thought as the tracker continued to walk with the marchers, who then gathered in a cordoned area to rally and make their voices heard amidst the desperation and hopelessness that lay out and about. "We will leave it to those in the know to keep us posted, then."

The shuttle then arrived at the door. As they got off, Mr. Benoit Rousseau was there to greet them. "Ladies! Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, Mr. Benoit," they replied, bowing to the chief.

"After taking care of our men's and women's first teams," said Benoit, "you will be having dinner with the mayor of Paris, Anne Hidalgo, who will talk to you about the city's Olympic bid for 2024 and why she needs your support to ensure the games come here. So, get going."

"Right!" said the two of them.

The day was nothing too spectacular. Drills, strategy, lunch, more drills, more strategy, and that was that. After the teams had called it a day, Jose and Sadako went over to the door to meet Benoit again. "A limousine will be taking you two a location in the 7th arrondissement, where Mayor Hidalgo will be greeting you. Be sure to be sharply dressed for the occassion as this is a very important, though private function."

"We will do so," said Georgette. "Trust us."

"Very well then, on your way. Enjoy." And so the girls returned to the apartment to get showered and dressed.

40 minutes after they returned, Sadako and Georgette found the right outfits to wear. Jose wore a fluid V-Neck Sild dress, a soft lambskin bra, digital gate ankle boots and wish bone earrings. As for Sadako, she wore a structured cropped lambskin jacket, a cropped technical knit top, a technical knit skirt, a Persian Print skirt, black digital gate ankle boots, an ID Louis Vuitton Signet Ring and idential wish bone earrings.

"Looking very nice," said Sadako as the two of them procured their respective handbags. "Changing your hairstyle to Takami's again?"

"Yep, just because I can." It was a simple white bow with red and blue stripes.

"Fantastic. So, let's go." They exchanged fist bumps and went down the escalator to the door, where a few chaffeurs were waiting to go with a long stretch limo. Jose and Sadako stepped inside, and as the limo took off, the Paper Route song with its infectious back beat and piano melody.

"Love is never invincible

It's the mystical, a body into a soul

You, you thought of me differently

Traded everything, a moment in memory

You promised me that everything is fair

If it's love and war

But you're giving up the fight

Is it not worth fighting for?

All of this tethered to the heart

Holding what you meant

If it's really what you want

Then I confidently send

(Chariots)

I send my love to carry it

Without your guard our chariots fall

(Chariots)

No part of us left innocent

Without your heart our chariots fall

(Chariots)

Blind to think you would never thirst

In the burning earth

And trade what our love is worth

I am sewn to your sleeve

Refuse to retreat

I'm chasing every shadow off the wall

I am caught in time

All these chemicals I take

Can't erase you from my mind

All of this tethered to a thought

I am holding here

If it's really what you want

Then I'll patiently prepare

(Chariots)

I send my love to carry it

Without your guard our chariots fall

(Chariots)

No part of us left innocent

Without your heart our chariots fall

(Chariots)

I'm losing my faith

I'm losing it all

Just give me a chance before

(Chariots fall)

Where's the blood?

Where's the blood?

Where's the blood?

I'm losing my faith

I'm losing it all

Just give me a chance before

(Chariots fall)

Where's the blood?

Where's the blood?

Where's the blood?

I'm losing my faith

I'm losing it all

Just give me a chance before

Where's the blood?

Where's the blood?

Where's the blood?

(Chariots fall)

(Chariots)

(Chariots fall)"

The limousine cruised through some of the most important destinations in the city befor arriving at the restaurant, the L'Abeille at the Shangri-La Hotel Paris in the 16th arrondissement. The cat tracker had already joined the two girls as the limo arrived and was on Jose's shoulders as an unintended scarf replacement that no one else could see but her and Sadako. As they got off, Mayor Hidalgo greeted them. "Good evening!" she said to the two of them.

"Hello," said Jose.

"Your are Miss Georgette Lemare and Miss Sadako Shimohara, correct."

"Yes, Madame Hidalgo, we are," said Sadako with a bow.

"I've been expecting you, follow me." The two followed Mayor Hidalgo to the lobby, where the attendant on the premises escorted the three of them to their table. The resident chef was on the premises to greet them. "This is Christophe Moret, a good friend of mine. He will be your chef today."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Moret," said Georgette.

"Take good care of us, sir," Sadako added.

"Thank you for coming to my restaurant, all of you," he said. "Our attendants will get your order, do you want anything to drink? We have an extensive wine list."

"I will have the Pays de L'Herault, 15cl," said Mayor Hidalgo. "What about the two of you?"

"Give me the Saint Joseph," Georgette said.

"Pommard," added Sadako.

"Merci beaucoup, thank you," said Christophe. "I will have my attendants take your order when you are set." As he went to the kitchen to get ready along with his kitchen staff, the sommeliers helped pour some wine for the three of them.

"I am so glad you are here with us in Paris," said Mayor Hidalgo. "Did you enjoy the tour?"

"We most certainly did, it was a magical experience," Sadako said.

"You're from Japan, right?"

"Hiroshima, Madame Hidalgo."

"Very nice city, blue collar place with committed men and women. You should be very proud of coming down here to help us. How's PSG, both of you?"

"They are having one heck of a race for the league championship," said Georgette. "I don't know if they will win it because Monaco's form has been so spectacular. Kylian Mbappe has been a godsend for the club; I don't think they will be caught!" The 18-year old Mbappe was instrumental in their 5-0 smashing of relegation bound FC Metz.

"They are a fine bunch of lads, Monaco are. They have been waiting more than a decade to get their hands on the trophy." She noticed the attendant coming in to take their order. "Order what you want on the A La Carte, and we will all share the truffle menu that Christophe has. Later on, of course, is dessert."

"Fois gras, of course," said Sadako, "and souffled potatoes."

"I will have the colvert duck and the squash," said Jose.

"Bresse chicken, good sir," Mayor Hidalgo instructed to the attendant, "and the entire truffle menu to share." The attendant noted them all done. "And for the two of you, your choice of dessert, as designed by another good friend of mine, Mr. Michael Bartocetti. Which one do you want for the three of us?"

"The quinces and the cheese plate," they both said.

"Good call," said the mayor. The attendant saluted and he went off. "So, with that out of the way, I want to show you the plans for the bid committee." She produced two books, one of each of the girls, and they were mighty thick.

"What's this?" asked Sadako.

"It's the finalized bid book for Paris 2024. We last hosted the games back in 1924, and none of us were alive to see that day."

"I wasn't alive either," said Jose to Sadako.

"Neither was I," she replied back.

Mayor Hidalgo went on, "Thus, we would like to host the Olympics after Tokyo in the 100th anniversary of the last Summer Games in this great city. A monumental occassion that will bring happiness, glory and peace through the power of sports! Your venue that you work at, Le Parc, will host the football finals and other select matches. And many of the top stadiums in Ligue 1 will be hosting matches so that the taste of the games is worldwide. And Marseille, our sister city to the south, will take care of the sailing."

Georgette leafed through the pages, filled with visuals and text in French and English, the two official languages of the International Olympic Committee. "Nicely detailed."

"With the ascendancy of Mr. Trump to the White House and the possibility of exclusivity posing great danger to Los Angeles's bid, the backlash from those in Budapest who rail against the city's own bid to host the Games, and your esteemed presence," said Mayor Hidalgo, "we won't lose!"

"You won't lose with us around, huh?" said Sadako as she sipped some wine while the a la carte appetizers were still being prepared.

"Absolutely not. But it can only be possible if we obtain your support. We believe that we will win the bid for the 2024 Summer Olympics. We came up painfully short a number of times but we feel that with all of the events currently going on, this will truly be our victory."

Jose giggled. "You have our support."

"Thank you so much. And get this: our slogan parallels that of PSG."

"Oh?"

"The slogan of our big is La Force d'un Rêve. The Strength of A Dream. Put your slogan together, and it echoes the message of our city. In Paris, we dream bigger, and the strength of our dream signifies hope and a vision of happiness and achievement to our ever-changing world. Today, Paris will lead the way into the future. This is our dream. This is our destiny. This is Paris, and Paris is Magical. Ici C'est Paris et Paris Est Magique."

"Awesome!" said Jose, who was applauding with Sadako. "Don't worry about it. Keep lobbying for the cause and when September 13 comes, your name will be called, I promise you."

"The IOC Evaluation Commission will be coming to our city from May 14 to 16. We will be the last city to be evaluated. Whether or not that works in our favor remains to be seen, but I am convinced that this will work out." Soon enough, the rest of the plates came. "But first, before we talk further..." The glasses were charged.

"A toast to Paris 2024, Paris Saint-Germain and to this city being the winner of hosting the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad!" exclaimed Jose.

"Here, hear! Bon Appetit!" they all said with a laugh, clinking glasses. And so they continued to talk into detail the venues and the layout of the event, which the cat tracker was able to convey to the observers on the others side by downloading the entire candidature file through the newly-discovered technology by the Hartmann sisters.

END CHAPTER 16