#if i get any station besides front ill kill everyone and then myself

[violatordyke]

killing whoever gave me a 9 hour shift the weekend after payday 😍

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 25

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised@alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 24

Next Chapter: Chapter 26

Uncle Jem had brought several of the Carstairs family’s old notebooks, and the past week they’d spend studying them to see if there was anything interesting. They’d rescued Grace, but no one had been able to find Tatiana since, nor did they know what they were up against exactly and if they could defeat it. Cordelia believed cortana could kill it, but walking in with no plan would just get them all killed.

Thomas felt like they were running out of time. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but he felt tired lately, much more than usual. For Alastair that was normal, he guessed, Alastair was always tired and therefore Thomas had no reason to complain. Still, it was odd and sudden. Then he’d gotten a bit of a headache, and right now he struggled to finish his lunch, which was already much smaller than what he usually ate. He’d eaten much less than he usually did the past days, truth to be told. He just didn’t have the same appetite. He was feeling a little chilly too, but guessed he should just put on a cardigan.

‘Are you alright, Tommy?’ his mother asked. ‘You’ve been eating so little lately.’

‘Just nervous, that’s all,’ Thomas said.

The thing was, Thomas didn’t usually eat less when he was nervous. If anything he ate more, he’d always been a stress eater. Instead he figured he was coming down with something. Someone else might just have said, ‘I think I’m getting sick, I’m going to rest a bit’, but after a childhood of frequent illness and worrying parents Thomas couldn’t get the words over his lips. He’d make sure to rest a bit more, he told himself. But he didn’t want to worry anymore, and he especially didn’t want his parents to start taking care of him like they used to when he was young.

Instead, he returned his attention to Alastair, who had long finished eating and gone outside to read. A ray of sunlight fell on his cheek, illuminating his warm golden brown skin. His eyes were fixated in a journal so old it looked like it might fall apart any moment. Not in Alastair’s careful hands though. He was holding the journal with meticulous care, so no damage would come to it. With his free hand, he pushed a lock of hair behind his ear, but it was not yet long enough to stay there so it fell back in front of his face. Back in school, Alastair would slick his hair back with hair gel, always perfectly in order, not a hair out of place. Thomas, who usually took a comb through his hair and left it at that, had wondered where he found the time. Now it was falling in soft wavy locks over his face. At school Thomas would never have guessed Alastair’s hair was wavy, but it was loose now and Thomas had grown to love gently running his fingers through it. He’d always loved Alastair’s dark hair, he thought. Alastair had shown him a picture from when he’d dyed it blonde, and although that looked alright, Thomas thought his dark hair was much more beautiful.

‘Anything interesting?’ Thomas asked, sitting down on the bench next to Alastair.

A gnome came up to his feet. Thomas and his mother had been feeding them to gain their trust, and not long since the gnomes had learnt that Thomas meant a chance for food. He guessed there were still plenty of cookies he didn’t feel like eating at the moment anyway, but he also wasn’t motivated to go into the kitchen and get anything. Thomas guessed resisting that adorable smile was good practice for when he got pets.

‘Nothing yet,’ Alastair said. ‘But I think I’m getting to the part that described that witch. It might give us some clues about what else Lucie can do.’

‘Have you discussed with Cordelia where you’ll live after the summer?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair had confided in him that even if his mother managed to get back the house and could go and live there, he was considering moving in with uncle Jem for the time being. His father’s house held too many bad memories, and Thomas could understand it would not be good for his recovery to live there again. Alastair had not yet made a decision, but Thomas thought it might be good for him.

‘She has not yet decided what she’ll do,’ Alastair said. ‘She is a bit young to live without her mother after all. Besides, with our mother pregnant it would be better to have someone with her. If she doesn’t get the house back, I presume she would stay with Risa and with me gone there might be enough space for Cordelia as well. But I’m almost nineteen, I figured it might be time to move out. Even if I’m moving in with another relative instead of getting my own place.’

‘That’s just practical, living on your own would be expensive. Besides, Jem won’t be another parent, will he? So you’ll still get to practice your adulting skills in a relatively safe environment. Does Jem live far away from your mother?’

‘Completely different part of London, but still in the city,’ Alastair said. ‘Easy to travel to university from there. It’s a big house, so I’ll really have my own space and get to take care of myself, with Jem still there in case I can’t. I’ve lived there until I was about six. When I was still happy, there are no bad memories tied up to that place. I thought maybe I could be happy again there.’

‘Where does Jem live exactly?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair gently put the notebook away, closing it carefully and putting it down in his lap. He took his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, showing him a screen of google maps with a marker where Jem lived.

‘Oh, that’s not far from where my parents live,’ Thomas said. ‘Only a few stops with the metro. We live close to the station.’

‘I didn’t realize. Well, that’s convenient. Makes it easy to have sleep overs or go out together if we don’t live too far away.’

‘Precisely,’ Thomas said. ‘Would you like to go for a walk when you’re finished here? A short one, I am a little tired. But I’d like some fresh air.’

Alastair carefully bound up his notebook and put it on the table inside with the others, before coming with him.

‘It’s safer to bring Lucie,’ Alastair said. ‘In case we get trapped in between again.’

Alastair had a point, although Thomas would like some time alone with him. He was so busy at work all the time, ever since Jem had arrived he was preoccupied with the journals. Thomas missed their walks.

‘Alright, we’ll walk to uncle Will and aunt Tessa and ask her and Cordelia to come. I’m curious if uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily are coming this way too. Jem said they were struggling to find a babysitter.’

‘Right, for little Alexander,’ Alastair said.

‘And Christopher,’ Thomas added. ‘My other cousin. He’s almost seven now.’

‘What’s he like?’ Alastair asked.

‘Different from Alexander, that’s for sure,’ Thomas said. ‘Alexander is a menace. Sweet, but fierce and hyperactive and if you don’t watch him for two seconds he’s swinging from the curtains somewhere. Christopher… he’s not as wild. He’s curious and is obsessed with science. He likes to do simple experiments, and we sometimes have to keep him from setting things on fire. I’m not sure he realizes “Don’t try this at home” applies to him as well. Fortunately, putting on a science show on tv usually keeps him from blowing anything up. Usually, my sisters and I babysit them when necessary, but he also adores uncle Henry, who is an inventor.’

It occurred to Thomas that Henry was Charles’ father. Sometimes children did not resemble their parents, he guessed. It had been a bit of a shock for everyone to learn that Charles had been Alastair’s former lover. Even if not everyone knew how awful he’d been to Alastair, they all had pieced together how much older Charles was. His father most of all had been horrified, since he’d known Charles since he was a baby. Thomas suspected he’d go confront Charles himself if Alastair hadn’t asked him not to. He knew Alastair was still ashamed of his past relationship and was still trying to make sense of it all. Thomas was glad he’d found trust in him and his parents, even if Thomas suspected Alastair still kept the worst of it to himself. Who could blame him? He wasn’t sure if Alastair finally believed his parents cared about him now, but at least he seemed to trust them which was a big step for Alastair. His mother had told him about her past and how she’d gotten her scar in an attempt to let him know he could talk about it and she understood.

‘As a child I had a phase where I liked science too,’ Alastair said. ‘I think I often had phases like that with different interests. When Cordelia and I were very young, we both loved architecture and played with all sorts of building toys and legos together. I also really liked math for a while. Then the animals from the forests in Devon. I lived there for a while in a small village. I think that’s when I grew a bit obsessed with hedgehogs.’

‘Christopher has been obsessed with science for some time now,’ Thomas said. ‘But we’ll see how it goes and what he’ll like in the future. He’s being assessed for autism and ADHD. He’s a sweet kid, but he struggles socially. Not a lot of friends unfortunately. I honestly think he prefers my company over his peers.’

‘I know what that’s like,’ Alastair said. ‘To be the child with the weird interests and never fit in with other children.’

‘You lived in Devon for a while. What was it like there?’

‘The scenery was amazing. The forests there are beautiful. The people… not so much, I prefer London.’

‘I lived in the countryside for a couple of years too when I was little, for my health. I think where I lived the people were nicer, more involved than in the city.’

Alastair made a face. ‘Not when you’re foreign and your mother wears a roosari. The people in Devon are mostly white. I don’t think Father really considered that when he moved us there, it was mostly about him. They might be kind if you’re part of their group, but they’re hostile to outsiders. Fortunately, we moved back after a couple of years.’

‘Ah, of course,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He felt stupid for not considering that earlier.

‘Well, people are racist everywhere. But at least in London there are more people of color and people are at least used to the idea that not everyone’s white.’ My mother still gets dirty stares and comments for her roosari, but she’s not the only one who covers her hair. So while in Devon, I much preferred to spend my time in the woods looking for hedgehogs than with other people. I guess I still do.’

Thomas felt a bit numb in his head, shivering even if it wasn’t cold at all. Perhaps going for a walk wasn’t the best idea, but he wanted to spend some time outside just the same. He should have brought something warm to wear, was all. He wasn’t really sick, it was just not as warm as he’d expected. But Alastair wasn’t shivering at all, he seemed to enjoy the sun on his skin. Thomas did too but it didn’t bring him any warmth.

‘You need to go back for a cardigan?’ Alastair asked. ‘There are goosebumps all over your arms.’

‘Oh. No, I’ll be fine.’

Thomas felt faint in the head and by the time they made it to the Herondale’s house, his vision became a little blurry and he collapsed against the door. He was awfully nauseous yet didn’t feel like he was going to throw up. Alastair noticed his sudden movement and his reflexes were quick. He tried to catch him.

‘Why are you so goddamn heavy, Tom,’ he groaned, trying and failing to stop both of them from crashing into the door.

Leaning against Alastair and the door, Thomas pushed himself upright again, blinking a couple of times until he felt he could stand on his own feet again. Alastair’s soft fingers went from his cheek to his forehead, and Thomas immediately recognized what he was doing. It was the same thing his parents and sisters had done his entire childhood. If they didn’t have a thermometer at hand, they’d feel his forehead, his neck, and determine if he was allowed to go anywhere. Alastair was going to determine he was sick and then all that was left was for everyone to tuck him into bed and start taking care of him. Thomas had hoped to avoid that.

‘You’re burning up,’ Alastair said. ‘You should not be going outside, much less for a walk. Come, we’re here anyway, I’m sure you could use the couch.’

Alastair led him inside, one arm around his waist and the other in his hand, and packed him in blankets on the couch, fetching a thermometer and some paracetamol.

‘Alastair,’ Thomas said, trying to piece together words through the headache and light headedness.

‘Just let me get this,’ Alastair said, pushing the thermometer into Thomas’ ear.

‘Alastair,’ Thomas repeated.

’38,6,’ Alastair said. ‘Tom, you have a serious fever. Why didn’t you say anything? I’ll make you some tea, just relax.’

‘Alastair!’ Thomas yelled, startling the boy.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Please don’t. I can make my own tea, I can take my own temperature,’ Thomas said, trying to calm his breath. ‘I hate it when people take care of me. I told you about my sickness as a child. I don’t want things to be like that again, I don’t want to be taken care of. So please, don’t. Just let me do it.’

Alastair sat down next to him. ‘You were about to walk into the woods with a fever. I’ve seen how stubborn you are.’

‘Yes. I am stubborn. I didn’t realize it would be so bad. But please, let me make these mistakes by myself. I don’t want to be treated like a sick child again.’ Thomas paused, blinking away the tears in his eyes. He didn’t realize this would make him so emotional. ‘I always loved that about you, how you believed I could take anything. How you didn’t treat me as if I was fragile because I was small and used to get sick.’

Alastair sighed. ‘I was an ass to you, Tom. It had nothing to do with respect, or thinking you’re strong.’

‘I know, and it did hurt sometimes. But I loved that you believed I could take it. I knew you didn’t mean any of the things you said, and with me, it was always a bit more light hearted, teasing perhaps.

But you never forced me to go to bed and rest when I did not want it. Matthew grew up around me being sick all the time, and I think he learnt from a young age that I was fragile and to be taken care of. James too. But I never wanted that. I’ll rest, I promise. But I’ll make my own tea, alright?’

‘I’m sorry, Tom. You can make your own tea. Make some for me as well?’

Alastair settled onto the couch while Thomas went into the kitchen to put on the kettle, still wrapped in a blanket. He was too cold to go without it. While waiting for the kettle to boil, Thomas realized Alastair did have a point, he could barely stand upright. Still, he was determined to at least do this. If he wanted anything later, he could always ask Alastair. He picked out a selection of tea bags for Alastair and put in a herbal teabag for his own. Thomas didn’t believe herbal tea cured sickness, but it was worth a shot.

He settled back on the couch, wrapped the blankets back around himself and took two paracetamol, hoping that would at least lower the fever.

‘I really can’t believe you think of my being rude to you as something positive,’ Alastair said. ‘I made fun of your height all the time.’

Thomas shrugged from underneath the blanket. ‘I never minded when you called me pipsqueak or wee little Thomas, or, I don’t know, you had plenty to say.’

Alastair raised an eyebrow. ‘You certainly took your revenge.’

Thomas tried to find a comfortable position on the couch, blankets around him. Alastair did have a point with the paracetamol, and Thomas took two. Hopefully they’d lower his fever.

‘Perhaps I’ll start calling you pipsqueak,’ Thomas said. ‘The name suits you much better now.’

Alastair made an undignified sound. ‘I’m not that short.’

‘You’re plenty shorter than me,’ Thomas said. ‘I always kind of liked it, pipsqueak. It sounded sweet even if you meant it to be hurtful. Sometimes I feel like you never really did a good job at being mean anyway.’

‘I never wanted to hurt anyone,’ Alastair said, ‘and I did have a bit of a weak spot for you then. I can be even worse than what you’ve seen, but I save that for bigots.’

Thomas put his hand on Alastair’s cheek. ‘I always thought you were holding back on being mean, even if you could still be quite vicious. But pipsqueak is mine now.’

Alastair looked mortified. ‘I guess I can’t stop you, can I?’

Thomas lay down on the couch, head on a pillow. Why were all these blankets so small? His feet were still cold and he’d have to find a solution for that. Really, blankets should be made for tall people. Nobody short would complain about having a bit of leftover blanket.

‘It’s concerning, that you’re getting sick after all these years,’ Alastair said softly.

‘It’s nothing,’ Thomas said. ‘Everyone gets a fever every once in a while.’

‘I haven’t had a fever in years. Colds, at times, but rarely a fever,’ Alastair said.

‘You don’t get the flu?’ Thomas asked.

‘Not that I remember,’ Alastair said. ‘But I figured that’s just the age, as a child I would get the occasional fever like all children do, and I imagine I’ll get them again when I’m older.’

Thomas had gotten the flu a couple of time over the past years. Never anything serious or with abnormal frequency, but it had sent the entire family into a panic whenever it happened.

‘Please don’t tell my parents,’ Thomas said. ‘That I’m sick, I mean.’

‘How did you plan to keep it from them?’ Alastair asked.

‘Well, I was hoping I’d be better by the next morning,’ Thomas said. ‘I could sleep over here and then when I’m better pretend nothing happened.’

Alastair was skeptical. ‘I really don’t think you’ll feel better that soon, even if it is a normal flu.’

Lucie and Cordelia entered the room through the garden door, Cordelia turning her sword back into the familiar necklace. ‘Those are a lot of blankets,’ Lucie pointed out. She was right, and Thomas moved them around a bit so at least the biggest blanket would cover his feet, reaching up to his waist.

‘We wanted to revisit the ruins,’ Cordelia said. ‘See if there’s anything else that can give us information on Tatiana or the thief of souls. I was wondering if you would be coming.’

‘Thomas is sick,’ Alastair said.

‘Don’t stay behind on my behalf,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘You sure? I would gladly stay here with you.’

‘I think I’m going to get some sleep anyway,’ Thomas said. ‘Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf. Go, I’ll still be here when you get back.’

‘Get well soon,’ Lucie said, putting her arms around him briefly. ‘You know how the tv works in case you want to watch a movie.’

‘I’ll be alright, Lu. Good luck with your mission.’

Thomas wanted to believe he had just caught the flu. Bad luck, nothing more. But perhaps that wasn’t the case. Perhaps he wouldn’t get better. Perhaps this meant they were running out of time.

[reddogcollar]

Gretchen

And a distinct, helpless feeling.

First/Prev/Next

Gretchen rode into Brackenholme, a couple days ahead of schedule. She'd managed to free herself of her duties in Hedgemoor early, and decided to travel ahead of the real heat.

In a half circle behind her, were the Harriers. A fraction of them, at least.

Most of the Harriers who'd fought for her during the war had returned to the lives they'd had before, farmers and blacksmiths, and the like. Nearly none of them wanted to pursue the life of a soldier after being thrust into it.

The name stuck, though.

Of those few who'd remained, Trent was among them. He'd insisted on coming along to Brackenholme.

They both knew he'd be better spent in Hedgemoor, and that he'd be expected to stay. And traveling with him, even with companions, felt daunting, after everything.

Though, it'd be cruel of her to deny him the chance to see his brother after so long, and downright insulting to insinuate he wouldn't be able to make the trip because of his condition.

Despite said condition, he'd seemed to fair well.

Everyone pretended not to notice his obvious discomfort, getting off his horse as they arrived in Brackenholme. She paid special attention to her cane, needlessly inspecting it of any damage that may have happened on the ride.

If was well made, and entirely too sturdy to sustain any notable damage. She scrutinized it thoroughly though, until Trent came up beside her.

It was probably hard on his knees, if she had to guess, which he'd commented on before.

The war and everything Lucas and his Wyldwolves, may they all rot, did to him had put tremendous strain on his joints. It frustrated her to no end that everything that could be done for him already had been.

His health was as good as it was going to get.

Putting the matter aside, as there truly wasn't anything she could do, especially now, she handed off her horse to one of the Harriers and walked to one of the lifts, as quickly as she could without dropping her cane and breaking into a run.

Trent followed, not bothering to try and squash down his obvious excitement. It was clear to anyone who looked at him he was there for a visit, and barely considered himself to be on duty.

She stepped into one of the Great Oaks lifts, Trent just a step behind her, and ran her hand through her hair as it lurched upwards. She knew there was no reason to, but she felt apprehensive.

As if the letters she'd received had been false, and there were strangers waiting at the top to tell her her loved ones were already dead.

After everything, it was hard to believe they'd survived.

She sighed, gripping her hair in a fist and putting most of her weight on her cane, and got a reassuring look from Trent. Before he could say anything, the lift came to a stop and she had to straighten and smooth out her hair before stepping out.

Forcing herself to keep to a brisk walk, she went through the halls with Trent beside her, just a half step behind, nodding at those she passed until she entered the main hall, where all the apprehension dissipated instantly.

There was Drew, looking troubled and staring out a window. Farther back in the room, Bergan stood talking with an advisor about something she could not hear.

Lady Rainer was elsewhere.

They came up behind Drew and Gretchen tapped him on the shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts and causing him to flinch and turn around.

A grin split his face the second he laid eyes on them.

"Gretchen, Trent!" He briefly hugged each of them in turn, "You're here ahead of schedule, aren't you?"

"After freeing myself up, I could think of no reason to delay." She smiled, "Staying in Brackenholme has always been quite relaxing. How've you been?"

"Troubled, truth be told." He said, dropping his smile and glancing out the window, as if he were about to be lost in thought again, before waving it away, "But lets not worry about such things for now, its great to see you two. How've you been?"

She nodded, respecting his privacy no matter how she'd like to pry. It troubled her to think a friend of hers was suffering and there was, yet again, nothing she could do.

"I'm glad to see you too. I've honestly been feeling better than I have since before everything. Things are finally starting to feel solid again."

It was Drew's turn to nod. He was no stranger to the instability of war, either.

"And you, Trent?" He asked, turning to his brother, "How's Hedgemoor treating you?"

The brothers talked, briefly comparing their living arrangements to what they'd had on the Cold Coast before growing solemn and changing the subject, while she noticed Bergan coming over.

Not wanting Drew and Trent to be interrupted, they'd had very little time to talk face to face, even after the war, she met him halfway.

"Gretchen, my dear!" He pulled her into a bear hug, aptly enough, "Tell me, how've you and Hedgemoor faired since your last letter?"

"Thing's seem to be getting better by the day, Uncle. After Krupha's occupation in Hedgemoor, I feared none of the people would truly be able to rest until they'd all been replaced by a new generation. As for me, I've no troubles that I could burden you with." She smiled at him.

Of course, she had troubles, but that didn't mean she had the need to burden anyone with them but herself.

He nodded, leaving one of his hands on her shoulder.

"I'm glad to know you're finally coming to peace, as well as your city. What of Redmire?" He asked, as most developments had been so recent she hadn't had time to write of them.

"Redmire is being governed by a cousin of Count Fripp's, Brenn rest his soul, now that the bulk of his work in Bray is taken care of. Everyone who'd been displaced has returned, and you can barely tell what happened there. I only need to take care of one city now."

It'd felt like her duty, Hector being her cousin and the only remaining boar. He probably wouldn't want to be a Baron even if he could, anyways.

"Though, of course, that's also not a permanent arrangement. Its merely a favor on behalf of his departed cousin. Between the two of us, though, we'll have to find a suitable replacement before the stress of running two cities becomes too much for him as well." She explained, even now feeling guilty for putting what should be her duty onto an old man.

More so, it pained her that it was her duty in the first place, and not her cousin's to take care of. While being a Baron may not be his ideal, it'd mean he wasn't imprisoned, at least.

"No more of this political talk, though," She rushed on, quickly changing the subject, "How are you, Uncle?"

"I'm afraid how I am would be deeply intertwined with political talk, no matter what," He chuckled, "But I suppose I'm as fine as I can be. Busy, with this new celebration, that may well become annual, but its good to have a change of pace every now and again, eh?"

"And how goes all this preparation?"

"As smoothly as it could. Though I suppose that's helped by there being no strict guideline as to how things should go yet." His smile was barely visible through his beard.

She wasn't sure he'd ever been without it.

"If there's anything I could assist with, you know I will." She offered, then after his thanks, excused herself and left the Great Oak entirely.

She understood the concept behind celebrating their victory, and how it may boost the citizens morale, but she couldn't separate the concept from pointless slaughter.

Everyday that passed brought them nearer to when the war was won, and it made her feel ill. The reason she'd come to Brackenholme wasn't to celebrate, but to surround herself with as many people as possible, fearing what come when she was alone.

The Cats of Bast left an undeniable mark on all in Lyssia, not least on her.

She walked to clear her head, having no designation in mind, simply focusing on the rhythm of her footsteps and cane on cobble paths.

The celebration would mean remembering Whitley's death, sacrificing herself to save Trent, Cape Gala, and Lucas, in all his wretchedness.

To think she'd once looked forward to being married to him...

She walked that bit faster, focusing on the rhythm and nothing else until she found herself at the Garrison Tree.

Looking for anything to break her from her reverie, she went up to see Hector. It'd be nice to finally speak with him, with such scant replies he'd had to any letters she'd sent.

She was stopped dead by the guard stationed outside his room, though.

"I apologize, my lady, but I'm under orders to not let anyone see the Boarlord. He's been classified a danger to himself and others." He explained, tipping his head in a sign of respect.

She glared, finding that to be the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. What was more absurd, was that the orders would have had to have come from Drew.

"If he's a danger to himself, does locking him up alone really make sense?" She argued, crossing her arms and refusing to go back down.

"It does if he's a danger to others."

"Have you SEEN that boy?! There's no way he's a danger!" She said, quickly losing her patience with the guard, though she knew he was just following his orders.

"Tell that to Queen Amelie!" The guard exclaimed, becoming invested in the argument. It became clear he held some sort of resentment toward Hector.

Gretchen rolled her eyes, scoffing.

"She practically fell on his knife, it hardly counts as an example!"

"He raised a city of the dead! Where your cousin died, might I add!" The guard waved one of his hands about, gesturing as he spoke and nearly knocking against the door he stood in front of.

"It was Lucas who killed Whitley, and you'd do well to remember that!" She practically shouted at him, standing up straighter and becoming red in the face with anger. She wouldn't have Lucas's misdeeds attributed to her cousin.

"Besides, Hector was possessed the entire time. He can't be blamed for Icegarden." She added, regaining her composure to the best of her ability.

"He tricked the White Bears out of their city and took it over with the Ugri!"

"Well he didn't kill anyone to do it! He's hardly dangerous, and especially not to me, of all people." She said, to no avail.

The guard wouldn't budge, which was a comfort to a small part of her. At least if no one was allowed in, he'd be safe in there.

But loneliness clearly didn't agree with him, and he hardly needed to be protected from her.

She argued with the guard until her legs grew sore, and she started leaning on her cane more noticeably.

The guard sighed, standing up straighter and putting on a passive look.

"You're not seeing him and that's final, my lady. Those are my orders and I will not go back on them. You'd do well to go enjoy the rest of your day, instead of spending it arguing with me."

She bit the inside of her cheek, glaring at the guard. It was clear he wouldn't be swayed by any amount of arguing, and she didn't fancy trying to bribe him.

Furious, she left the Garrison Tree in search of Drew.

She found him just as he was coming off one of Great Oak's lifts, catching him unawares and grabbing him by the wrist.

"We need to talk, Wolf."

He looked surprised, not only by her tone but what she'd called him. Though it was leagues above "mutt", she'd reserved titles such as that for strangers.

She pulled him aside, where people were less likely to be disturbed by the impending argument, before going off on him.

"What in the world could've gotten into you, Ferran, to not only let Hector be confined to a cell in the first place, but now for me to find you've ordered your soldiers not to let him be seen, calling him a danger that he hardly presents?!" She demanded, keeping her voice low.

If she were to shout at him, everyone outside would hear.

This only made his surprised look appear more dramatic, muddled by confusion and a small amount of offence.

"Gretchen, that order was made by Bergan, just a couple of days ago! There's nothing I can do about it, short of trying to convince him otherwise, which I've been trying to do whenever I get the chance." He explained, quick to redirect her anger.

"Why in Brenn's name would he do that?!" She huffed, twisting her cane and driving it into the dirt.

Drew hesitated, as if conflicted, before clasping his hands.

"It'd be best if Hector told you." He answered, refusing to answer in any useful way.

"Well I can't if I'm not allowed to see him."

He was quiet for a moment, looking at the Garrison tree, craning his head back to see the top.

"Well, I climbed the tree last night." He supplied, looking back at Gretchen.

She turned to look up at the Garrison tree, rubbing her thumb on the smooth wood of her cane.

She could go for periods of time without it, but it was never long before the pain became impossible to ignore. She'd done the injury no favors in Icegarden, and the strain had undone a good portion of the healing it'd gone through prior.

She didn't regret a thing.

"I don't think that'd work for me." She said finally, looking back at Drew. She may be able to walk a distance but she had no desire to test her limits climbing up and down a Great Oak.

"Yeah." He nodded, tapping the White Fist's pointer against its thumb.

The clicking was the only sound between them for a moment, before the White Fist crunched, Drew holding it in a fist with a smile on his face.

"I may be able to help you though, come." He walked off in the direction of the Garrison Tree, not waiting. He stopped at a bench alongside the cobble path, a short ways away from the Tree, and had her sit down and wait.

He went into the Garrison Tree, and she was to wait either for the guard or Drew to come out, depending on if he could be convincing.

A minute passed, then another, and another.

After the fifth, she saw the guard leaving the Garrison Tree, seeming pleased with himself.

She waited another ten minutes before no one was in sight, and got up, walking as if she had nowhere to be and was just enjoying a stroll, before darting into the Garrison Tree the moment she neared it.

Outside Hector's door stood Drew, standing guard.

She smiled, thankful for his help, and slipped into the cell.

Hector sat a table with a book in front of him, looking at her with an owlish expression, as if he hadn't expected her.

"Hello, cousin." She quickly closed the distance, briefly touching his shoulder in greeting instead of hugging him. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Gretchen! Hi!" He smiled awkwardly, slapping the book shut and pushing it away from him. "This is rather unexpected!"

"I apologize for that, but unexpected was the only way I'd get to see you, it seems." She sat down, and asked, "What happened with Bergan?"

He grew as stiff as the covers on his books, and looked uncomfortable.

"Nothing important, really." He said, obviously not wanting to talk about the subject.

"Hector, it absolutely is important! Why have I been barred from seeing you?" She asked, refusing to ignore what was happening. She couldn't do anything if she couldn't understand.

"You really needn't worry about me, I'm fine. I'll get by." He insisted, glancing around the room. After everything, it seemed he still had trouble with eye contact.

"Of course I need to worry about you! You're my cousin and now you're being isolated. What kind of family would I be if I did nothing?"

"You'd be much happier family if you simply didn't concern yourself with it! I've enough books to keep me entertained should I be isolated, it won't kill me." He insisted, wrapping his good arm around his chest in an imitation of crossing them.

"Books do not substitute for a conversation, and if you're smart you'd know isolation isn't good for you no matter how books you've got!" She said, thumping her cane against the floor for emphasis despite being seated.

"I want to help you, but I can't if I don't know the full extent of the problem." She said, losing her argumentative tone for a more concerned one.

Hector stayed quiet, looking solemn.

"I can't tell you." He said quietly, looking down at the table top.

"Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I do!" He quickly looked up, before appearing ashamed of himself. "I simply fear you wouldn't trust me."

They both flinched when they heard Drew knock on the door, softly three times.

That was her cue to leave, lest they run into someone on the way out and get caught.

She sighed, standing.

"I'll be back, cousin. And I expect to find out what happened. I'll help you no matter what." She put her hand on his shoulder again, lingering there while he gave his short goodbye.

With no excuse to stay and risk getting caught, she pulled herself away.

She spent the rest of the evening in Bergan's hall, puzzling out Hector's situation and what she could do. There had to be something, she refused to helplessly stand by.

It was there she finally bumped into Lady Rainer.

"Hello, Gretchen," She greeted her, smiling warmly, "I'm sorry I missed you when I arrived."

"It's no trouble." Gretchen waved it away, lost in thought and only half listening.

"Is something on your mind?" Rainer frowned. "You seem distracted."

She was quiet for a moment, considering whether or not Rainer would be able to help her. The Duchess had always been more reasonable than her husband, surely this matter was no different.

"You know what Bergan is doing to Hector, yes?"

Rainer's expression dropped, becoming saddened as she nodded.

"Aye."

"And it's a horrible thing to do, to isolate him!"

"It is." She nodded again, "I've talked to him about it, but he has the final say when it comes to serious crime. And he can be as stubborn as a goat."

"Hector is barely a criminal." Gretchen straightened, prepared to get into another argument.

"Gretchen," Lady Rainer started slowly, taking time to pick her words carefully, "I care for him too but he did seize Icegarden, nearly starve out your uncle, and kill the queen. These things shouldn't be overlooked."

"He was sick in the head! He shouldn't be vilified for being ill!" Gretchen argued, refusing to see her cousin mistreated.

"Of course he shouldn't. But it doesn't excuse the harm he caused. He can be helped without us disregarding his mistakes, which would do more hard than good." She said, still taking time to choose her words.

Years of debating with Bergan had forced her to hone the skill of convincing people she was right.

Gretchen deflated, becoming tired and sullen instead of angry.

"I have very little family left, and I cannot lose him, neither to death or Bergan disallowing me from speaking to him." She said, her voice coming out flat.

"I know. I haven't stopped trying to make him be more reasonable, and I don't intent to." Lady Rainer assured her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

It made her feel that much less helpless.

"Thank you."

[davidjjohnston3]

The trees are straight and true here, and the help comes without seeming harpoons.  I considered some insane things which were ‘above my pay-grade’ and as is my wont reflected on the state and implications of my former profession and what old friends and pharons meant to me.  Right now think that my core goal in life is not to blow myself up.  As a former would-have-been SecState said, ‘I love so many people.’  I am only sad that trying as I did to uproot that carrot of love just now could have resulted in the demolition of an entire root-network, of at least my own excision therefrom.

‘Some people’ want revenge against life for not going their way or not being the color or fragrance or face shape they like or feel it ought to be - ‘no that is not what I meant at all.’  They will never hold a life reliable which doesn’t resemble their ideal, imago, or ‘soul-idol’ &c.  The meaning of the name ‘Cordelia’ as in King Lear is something like ‘heart’s ideal.’  I was driving and considering a novel that I feel touched absolute supreme greatness without knowing it or in a way that could mislead some readers Mrs. Mary HK Choi’s Yolk a novel I looked forward for a very long time.  I had all these references and fractal coreferences and forgot about actual birds, like what does the chick eat in the egg.

‘Blood is the life’ - I liked etymologies for a long time and my intellectualism caused me acute trouble in Confirmation Class at Morrow Memorial United Methodist Church in about 1998.  ‘Pastor’ Gretchen taught us the word root ‘consacramentum’ which comes from dipping the hand in blood in the concave of a Roman shield - those huge rectangular shields which could be used in formation as ‘testudo’ or turtle to stop projectile weapons and allowed soldiers to make pin-point stabbing attacks from a ‘matrix(?)’ of high protection.  I forget what kind of animal was killed to pool the blood in the shield but it might have been a rabbit.

I was reading ‘Revelation,’ I don’t recall what everyone else was talking about.  Some kind of community service project, interview your parents, buy a wedding-magazine and make a whole plan for how you would get married and how much it would cost (and while you’re at it describe how you would 1) restore a classic Shelby Cobra using newspaper and Krazy Glue 2) drive foresaid drop-top to the Moon).  

The Pastor was a pipe-smoker named ‘Painter’ who used the NY Lotto’s ‘Hey you never know’ slogan to describe sth like Pascal’s Wager; OTOH St. Paul teaches us that everyone is born knowing God exists (Romans).  The problem is that people fail or omit to glorify Him or subsequently ruin or betray their own best efforts through blasphemy, turning or falling away, cowardice, denial, attachment to certain sins or being ‘yoked unequally’ with non-believers.  

I reflected starting in 2008 that I was shy of my ‘first love’ (rather, the woman I fell in love with at 14); at the time I gloried or reveled in the shyness like a Wallace Stevens poem that ends, ‘And not to have written a book.’  I could’ve written a few books by now or walked away from book-writing or changed my mind / specified which kind of book I might have written and for whom.  

I remember always admiring the ‘magic’ of literature and feeling sad I had no characters or world of my own to work magic with.  Star Wars and my own life and later much else supplied ‘materia poetica’ and till the point that I began to think in fiction and became addicted to interpreting my own in ‘story-ideas’ although that is not to say that what happened around me didn’t happen.  

America is trying to become a better country in numerous valences, loving our neighbors, holding each other accountable.  ‘Justice’ with or without the marks is important.  It is a divine Judgment that Covid fell on the world even if eventually we all shall learn who devised the virus or leaked it or modulated its mutations.  I was eager to rejoin the world feeling I might overcome my mental illness but I mishandled specific questions and tests.  I ended up turning people against me and creating monsters more than ever as well as perhaps terminally sabotaging any chance I might’ve had of fulfilling a dream or making good on the past.  I have a lot of opinions on the CCP but should’ve focused on love and family and personal responsibilities as in the past or at least held to my long-standing feeling that Chinese people deserve better rather than associating myself with hard-liners and racists or those who would simplify issues in order to bring about ultimate victory without temperance or concern for the side-effects.

In Milwaukee where I lived for far too long everyone’s spirit - electric, intellectual, visory(?), informational et cetera seemed to be militating against everybody else’s.  There were fake vaccines, radioactive ice cream (or thermogenic ice-cream), gun-battles as usual, lines crossed, all kinds of scores that people tried to settle.  I also realized that the police were probably tracking for years my various attempts to obtain weapons from samurai-swords to handguns though the purpose was defensive and I can only trust at this point that some good lawyer will prevent the bad lawyers and cops from presenting the most damning circumstantial case they could.  People in Milwaukee own AK-47′s, automatic shotguns, probably all kinds of explosives, improvised chemical weapons and (’our Black brothers’ - Schopenhauer) biological weapons - the cops don’t stand a chance that I can tell and even the National Guard perhaps could get outclassed by retired military.  I had told myself for years that it was only the ghetto’s that bore witness to this paramilitary equipage and that the retired SEAL Team 4 member with the ‘Stop Socialism’ and ‘Jobs Not Mobs’ sign on his front lawn would protect me from the Maoist-Covid Night of the Long Knives but I feel I tempted God a lot in the past.  

I read all these books and took to heart that people thought I was just entertaining myself with but now as then I should’ve guarded my heart or not begged the question of what others thought about me or saw in me.  I literally felt of late ‘I am the anti-Christ’ - good-looking at times, preach world peace, ‘form of godliness,’ want to be friends with everyone, build bridges - and had to rack my brains to come up with an ‘anti-Christology’ and science / concept of the Whore of Babylon just to make sure it was more than me alone.  I also wished to simplify my past and help kids ‘get life right the right time’ doing battle with philosophies that opposed this consciously or otherwise but stepped into numerous minefields and also tried running when I should’ve flown over.  

Everyone’s trying to get rich and build back better and I profoundly admired the American President for doing, finally, apparently, what presidents had tried to decades even as I remember ‘Flowers 1881′ a poem that implies that basically teachers can do only so much before turning their kids loose in a world no one has yet fixed and which others keep breaking; from a California almanac that also instructed me that the same old debates and cross-fires and burdens plague teachers as always, not that it is an ‘impossible profession’ but honestly that God won’t let us establish Heaven on Earth or at least not me or at least not America or at least not teachers who savor the experience of being a teacher or the beauty of their students more than the outcomes or commitment or intrinsic value of the work or the confirmed identity / vocation / personhood of the instructor.  There are always new and old at any rate and different cultures all describe the teacher as needing to keep both alive; as do descriptions of higher education and scholarship.  

I questioned my qualifications / background and wondered about re-training but can’t afford tuition anywhere so I am trying to cling to the core of my capabilities / blessings.  ABC and XYZ.  The glory of the soul or souls.  

I kept theorizing Russian literature as well as weapons-systems and ultimate destiny, sailing ships, noble names, divisions, the flaming sword of Archangel Gabriel, the mission of Russia today with respect to the world order.  I am also simply trying to be healthy and stop for a while trying to parse out who was the love of my life or what it still left in terms of action or redemption or justice or surrender or mitigation or meeting new friends or propounding the kind of understand with carefulness I have believed in - ‘saving people from themselves.’  Driving up here I remember being distressed at a gas-station in California when I was about 5 or 6 since the pump was leaking, being very upset with my parents and family.  In those days I also disliked animal-cruelty though the world today seems so depraved and deprived with respect to human interests I would make no bones about neglecting most all animals outside of military or police use.  When I was about 3 I saw white kids set a frog on fire; my mother has a history of running over cats.

I dislike winging it and taking risks.  There is a song I call to myself ‘Run Away’ though its title is ‘Paradise.’  I am not a utopian communist for believing in secular justice and its instrinsic value... I wonder whether when I helped people in the past there were always strings attached or maybe I was just trying to close my case and discharge my responsibilities too rapidly without allowing others to gestate or make an abode in my heart besides and beyond what I could get out of them, glorifying myself, or tell others about.  

What is motherhood?  What is travail?  Is there a kind of problematic ‘female gaze’ as feminists talk of a ‘male gaze’ associated with sadism or fascination / fetishism?  It’s psychology which is not my first love at all since it appeared pretentious and distracting and retarding (in the literal sense of slowing down).

I also remembered reading various things about Victor Hugo whose ‘93′ is an important novel today due to its techno-utopianism, feminism or ‘new model egalitarianism,’ fusion of revolution and religion, etc.  But I had forgotten ‘Les Miserable’ with its themes of ransom or eventual recompense, genealogies, caution, and more none of which is to negate the various complains against me or death-warrant from China or my parents with their partial private readings of Proverbs (’Let’s stone David for embarrassing us / not doing precisely what we want’ - no mention of witnesses, tribunals, questions, mitigation-hearings, actual counsels of judges etc. but just American-German ‘coalitions of the willing’ ‘run and get my gun’ ‘team-building’ etc. which in my experience ends with tanks on the street and military dictatorships as when at the end of the CultRev PLA regulars were gunning down former justice-fanatics who’d been stripping women, kicking pregnant stomachs etc. as in The Vagrants).  Naturally having grown up in a family fascinated with Lee Kwanyew and Arnold Schwarzenegger and conflicted about ‘fascism’ I had reservations about the United States’ ability to suddenly dress up and ‘stand at perpetual moral attention’ but I guess my own problems are just that I am poor with a rich kid’s mind and no one really likes me except strangers and faraway friends who were easily spooked and/or just couldn’t be there.  ‘King of South shall attack and King of North shall crush them  with chariots &c.’ - in the end righteous will prevail whichever side of the line I end up on in the final assessment.  I also remembered today a novel called ‘The Old Capital’ about a bad artist father, a virgin daughter, straight and true pines.  Some other aspects of this novel are silly as well as criminally problematic and there's a lot of that going on in new-old old news America / Babylon or at least to quote my favorite lawyer / leave lawyering movie 'First let's get out of Milwaukee.'  Miss the land of June snow. 

[popcrone818]

Wicked Games Part 1

Okay so this is just a little something i have been working on. i really need some feedback on it as ill be updating it here and on wattpad regularly. i will take any feedback obviously just nothing too cruel. also if you want to see me write for anyone in particular shoot me a message and i will get right on it. lots of love

Dauntless

Initiation, stage two; fears. My brother wasn’t able to test me so I had the cruel Dauntless leader; Eric. I had 10 fears, 6 more than my brother. Each day was going to be a different fear for everyone. We wouldn’t face all of our fears until stage 3 of initiation.

My first fear was spiders, crawling all over me as I lay there helpless and still, I was able to get out of that fear soon enough though. I left the room and Eric that day only slightly out of breath.

The dark and drowning were actually together I was drowning in the dark and at this time I had no idea which one I was more afraid of. But I got out of there by letting the water engulf me and fill up my lungs.  

Fears 4 and 5 being burnt alive while people judged me had me shaking as the flame licked at my ankles, I could hear people yelling profanities at me as the flames rose on my body, I tried to calm my racing heart and listen in to the words being yelled out to me but I couldn’t hear any of it I just mumbling I just knew they weren’t very nice this being said. That day Eric had laid a hand on my forearm as I came out of the sim, he almost looked like he cared for a slipt second before he realised I was out of the sim and his stone cold exterior was plastered on his face.

My next two fears were clowns and losing Tobias. Clowns obviously wasn’t too bad but as my heartrate was slowing down one of the clowns dragged my brother over to me, his wrist and ankles bound and a gag in his mouth, he also looked unconscious as they held a gun to his temple. I watched as he lifted his head his eyes holding in all of the pain that our past had caused as he mouthed run to me, I watched as the safety was taken off the gun and the trigger pulled. I screamed and fell to my knees as the sim ended and I felt myself fall out of the metal seat to the ground, I didn’t look up at Eric as my eyes continued to leak and show my weakness in front of the cruel dauntless leader. What would he think of me now, I had excelled in the first stage of initiation I was no longer a weak abnegation, I was dauntless but now as I balled myself up on the floor in the simulation room I felt weak again. I knew Eric was looking down at me but I could care less as I picked myself up off the ground and lunged out of the room and rushed into the pit frantically looking for my brother. I saw him from afar talking to the man he had introduced me to as Zeke once before, and I launched myself at his back as tears cascaded down my cheeks.

After my little outburst in the pit the day before I couldn’t even look at Eric when I entered the simulation room the day after. I had been weak and I hated knowing he had been there to witness it. I held myself up and my body strong, my eyes cold and unmoving as he watched me walk to the seat in the middle of the room and readied the serum before placing a hand on one side of my neck and the tip of the syringe on the other.

“This last lot of fears is going to be even worse than yesterdays, stay strong Amaya,” he plunged the syringe into my neck before he finished his sentence and my eyes closed bringing on my last lot of fears.

My eyes opened and Marcus leered above me, “You will never leave me ever again.” He snarled as he started to undo his belt before pulling it out of the loopholes. He flung it and it stung my cheek before he laid it down and started to undo his pants. He used me like he used to causing harm to my small body as his fingers dug into my olive flesh as he thrust in and out of my tiny body. The fear then changed slightly as he raised the belt over his head and brought it down over my back again, again and again before switching once more where Marcus took bids from random men before the highest bidder grabbed my face and lead me into the back room to have his way with me. I couldn’t slow my heart rate and I couldn’t fight back my hands had been tied behind my back and my ankles had been tied to the base of the bed. I was weak I was helpless and I couldn’t do anything about it. I closed my eyes as I tried again to steady my heart and this time managed to calm it down enough to be brought out of the simulation. I looked over to where Eric was sitting as I tried to catch my breath. My hands trembled and as Eric started to move closer to me I shrunk away from him and his touch. I knew Marcus shouldn’t have this effect on me but I also knew that everything he had done to me once Tobias left would stay with me for the rest of my life. Usually I was pretty good at hiding everything that Marcus had done but when being faced with it once again I couldn’t do it. Eric placed his hand on my forearm once again I flinched and I saw something flash behind his eyes before he took his arm off me and disconnected the leads from my forehead. I took one last big breath before I bolted out of the simulation room not looking back at Eric as I made my way to the initiate dorm room. I sat down on my hard plastic bed and sobbed until dinner time.

I made it my mission to find my brother before sitting down as close to him as possible. His arm automatically wound its way around my waist as he continued to eat. He pushes his plate over to me slightly and I pick up his hamburger taking a bite. It was silent between us for a moment.

“Are you still afraid of Marcus?” he nods as he takes his hamburger from me and takes another bite himself. I shrink into his a bit more as Eric makes his way over to us. He stands directly in front of both of us but keeps his eyes on me the whole time. I plead with my eyes for Eric not to say anything to my brother about what had happened in my last fear landscape. Tobias didn’t need to know the full extent of what happened once he left.  

Eric takes a seat in front of us and starts to quietly eat his own meal. “How are you holding up after your last fearscape?”

“She’s fine,” I feel Tobias tense beside me, I look up and notice that his jaw is clenched and he is staring directly at Eric with a look that could kill. I straighten up slightly but still close to my brother, trying to show Eric that I wasn’t afraid that what he saw in my fearscape was nothing and that it didn’t need to be brought up again.

“I wasn’t asking you Four! I was asking Amaya.” Eric’s hands are balled into fists on the table before he slams them down making me flinch.

“I’m Fine Eric.” I tell him as I stand up from the table and he gives me a short unrecognisable nod. I turned around to leave as Tobias squeezes my hand before he drops it. I wandered around the pit for a while contemplating getting a tattoo before I found myself standing out the front of the tattoo parlour I talked myself into walking in and then spent the next 10 minutes looking at designs and thinking about the placement that I wanted. I decided on an artsy intricate design on my forearm. I didn’t have a meaning I just felt drawn to the tattoo and the placement seemed right.

“What are you getting?” I whipped around to face the voice only to find Eric standing by the open door to the parlour, I point to the one above my head as he takes long thoughtful strides through the parlour to get to me, I don’t know how I knew he had been talking to me. I could have been the fact I could feel his eyes in the back of my head before I had even turned around but I’m glad that he had actually been talking to me and not someone else. He pulled the design down off the wall and inspected it before looking up at me with a questioning look in his eyes. “Where are you getting it?” he questions again.

“On my forearm just here.” I point to the place on my right arm where I want it. He nods and takes a hold of my wrist gently and dragging me towards the back where an older guy covered head to toe in tattoos greets Eric.

“Hello Eric! Back for more on your back so soon? I thought another 2 weeks was what we had discussed.” He asks Eric as he starts to set up his station. Eric shakes his head and starts waving his hand around.

“No, today I’m here with her,” he pointed to me.

“Abnegation I see.” He says as he gets up from the chair he was seated in and comes to inspect me in a way. I find myself shrinking away from his gaze slightly, unsure of this man, and find myself closer to Eric than I thought I had been. His grip on me wrist seemed to become slightly comforting.

“Adam, she’d like this one please. On her right forearm.” Eric could sense that this Adam guy’s gaze had scared me slightly, and because he had seen my fearscape he could understand why I had moved away. Adam took the slide away from Eric and back over to his station where he started to get the ink and gun ready. All up it took him about 3 hours to get the design just perfect on my skin. He cleaned me up and instructed me on the proper way to care for it before letting us go. Eric had stayed with me the whole time looking somewhat bored but still never leaving my side. Eric and I made our way out of the parlour and towards the initiate dorms in silence. Before we rounded the last corner Eric grabbed my wrist yet again making me stop as he looked into my eyes. I looked up at him slightly due to the height difference but watched emotion after emotion fly behind his steel blue eyes.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright after your last fear.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him as my face scrunched up in feigned confusion.

“Marcus? Why is he one of your fears and what was with the bidding e was doing? The screen went black shortly after numbers started to fly out of his mouth.” He said taking a small step forward as I took one large one back away from him. I didn’t want him to know any of it, and here he was asking the questions that I didn’t want to answer. He saw what Marcus had done to me himself but didn’t see what he let others do to me whenever he pleased.

“It was nothing, just something we used to do that had scared me as a child.” I told him as my hands balled into fists thinking about the first time he allowed his friends to ‘buy’ me for the night. Then the first time he had touched me flashed in my mind and I involuntarily shivered.

“That’s bullshit and you know it! But I’ll let you get some sleep. You’ve got a week off before stage 3 starts, use it wisely.” He told me giving my wrist one last squeeze and making his way back in the direction of the pit. I make my way over to my bed and collapse after the big day I’ve had.

I am awoken by a loud banging like metal on metal. I roll over and cover my face with my pillow. I felt warm breath on the back of my neck making the little hairs there stand up.

“GET UP INITIATE!” I flinched away from the voice and almost fell out of my bed. Eric stood above my bed a stupid little smirk plastered on his stupid perfect face. I saw his eyes flick over my body and I quickly covered my body with my sheet as I shot him a glare before he walked away.

“Everyone in the pit in 5!” he yelled as he walked out the door. I was the first in the pit once I had changed and nearly raced down there. I found Tobias and Eric standing by a board and as I walked up to my brother to wrap him in a tight hug I could feel Eric’s eyes watching me while I walked over. The other initiates started to gather and Tobias and I jumped apart before Eric started speaking.

“Rankings are up. Bottom 10 get your stuff and get out, your cut.” He pulled the sheet off the board behind him.

 1.       Chris

2.       Jasmine

3.       Amaya

4.       Jai

5.       Emily

6.       Andrew

7.       Jeremy

8.       Teaghan

9.       Caleb

10.   Josh

11.   Shaun

12.   Alex

13.   Theo

14.   Damon

15.   Dana

16.   Bella

17.   Lindsey

18.   Jeff

19.   Mollie

20.   Alyssa

 The next 10 months went really quickly I ended up ranking first in my class and was offered a leadership job next to Eric, he was seriously pissed off that he had to train me but he got over it and now I would even go as far as saying we are friends, or at least verging on friendship. I loved my new apartment. I was on the fourth floor of the compound where the rest of the leaders had their homes. I was overseeing training for the new initiates that come in tomorrow, I would be watching over my brother as Eric watched over me to make sure that I was doing my job right. I so wasn’t looking forward to seeing the girls sneak out of Eric’s apartment in the early mornings but what can you do when you live on the same floor. He had started to sleep around about 6 months ago after he had a meeting with Jeanine. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just trying to keep up his reputation. It had started to become disturbing watching him with a new girl wrapped around him every day.

I heard a knock at my door. I closed my book and padded over, in my fuzzy bed socks, to open my front door.

“Hey are you ready for tomorrow?” Four asked me walking in and making himself comfortable on my sofa.

“Hello to you too.” I said sarcastically as I close my door and make my way into the kitchen to put the kettle on to make coffee.

“Looking forward to scaring the shit out of some initiates with me today?” he asks as I grab two mugs from the cupboard and start to add the coffee and sugar.

“Hell yes I am, not so sure how I feel about Eric overseeing me though.” I told him as I poured the water for the coffees and brought them over to the sofa where he had his feet on my coffee table. I kicked his foot off and handed him the mug of hot liquid.

“Do you still have that thing for him that you had back when you were an initiate?” I didn’t look up at him as the images of all the girls sneaking out of Eric’s apartment raced through my mind.

“No, I don’t.” I told him as I clenched my jaw and took a sip of my coffee.

“Okay,” he stretched out the word almost like he didn’t believe me, “Get a goodnights sleep, I’ll be here at 8 an hour before they arrive.” He got up put his mug in the kitchen and gave me a kiss on my head as he made his way out of my apartment. I went to close my door when a few doors down I watched Eric’s door open and close and a women in a tight fitting, short black dress exits with her shoes in her hand. I roll my eyes and slam my own door. I feel my façade slip and a tear makes its way down my cheek. I swore Eric wouldn’t do this to me, I needed to keep my head up and not let him get to me. I switched off all of my lights and went to bed.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

My brave soldier muse; Eugene Sledge x reader

*Author’s note*

Wow okay so this is something COMPLETELY different than what I usually write. But after reading and actually watching The Pacific a couple months back with my dad, I’ve decided to take a crack at writing for our baby boy Joey Mazzello’s character; Eugene Sledge. Now before I get started I want to start off by saying I do NOT MEAN TO ROMANTICIZE PTSD or other mental illnesses. I know that gets people riled up and I hope I don’t offend anyone with this piece of fanfiction.

I also DO NOT own the pic that I’ve included in the fic, I’m just using it as a visual purpose for the story instead of having you guys try and look it up by watching the opening credits of The Pacific on youtube.  

__________________________________________________

*1942*

The world was at war.  The Nazi’s were planning on world domination but my people of America didn’t want to get involved because we had just started getting back up on our feet due to the Great Depression that lasted over 10 years.  But it wasn’t until Pearl Harbor when the Japs bombed it without warning, or even reason.

From then on, every able bodied young man or previous vets from the first world war wanted to sign up and serve.  Including my best friend Sidney Phillips and best friend turned boyfriend Eugene Sledge. The three of us have been best friends since the school yard, when a bunch of bullies were picking on me because I was drawing instead of playing during recess.

From then on, the three of us have been thick as thieves, always sticking together till the very end.  It was shortly after our junior year of high school that Eugene and I started dating, in fact you may think he finally worked up the courage to ask me out well you’d be wrong.

I mean he tried, he really did but in the end I ended up asking him out.  So he took me out to dinner and after—I kissed him, I knew we were made for each other.  Of course Sidney had a field day and would constantly tease us any chance he got, especially towards Gene.

Sidney had already been deployed and been on the field on the Marines for a few months now, and Eugene tried to enlist but due to his heart murmur, he wasn’t qualified to go.

I was in my art studio currently working on a new painting that I had in mind.  I had my canvas out and was doing the picture in charcoal when I heard the door open and slam shut.  I stepped aside and saw Gene storming in and he placed himself right there on my cushioned couch where I would have my models usually sit.

“Still there?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He muttered.  I sighed solemnly and set my charcoal pencil down and grabbed some wipes and cleaned my hands up a bit before sitting down next to Gene.  If I’m being truthful, I’m glad the murmur is still there.

I know it sounds selfish of me but I’ve already lost my big brother James Barnes to the war with the Japs, my mama could barely stand and was depressed for weeks till one day she just died of a broken heart.  Of course my daddy barely escaped the first World war with only a missing arm but it was during the Depression that finally killed him, without money coming in he couldn’t pay to afford a doctor to come and help him with his arm which had soon gotten infected and he passed away due to the infections of his missing arm and no antibiotics to keep him healthy.

Eugene and Sidney are all I have of family now, and I’m already fearing of losing another brother, I can’t lose the love of my life to this war.

“Do you wanna head for the lake?” I asked him.  He turned to look at me and I took his hand and soon I led him out the backway and the two of us headed just down the hill from my house where the lake stood.

Our family home was like a little place of heaven.  Wild flowers as far as the eye can see, all varying in different breeds and colors, a small little lake that circled just at the bottom of the hill, and when the sun would hit it, it made the lake shimmer and shine like a beautiful diamond ring.

Sometimes I would come here to sketch and get away from everything of the real world, my own little patch of heaven.  Eugene would come here too when he needed to de-stress or get away from it all from the insecurities of his mind.  And lately because of his failure to enlist and seeing himself as a failure, he needed this more than I did.

We both lay down on our usual spot and I lay my head right across his lap.  His hands gently stroked and played with my hair as the two of us stared up at each other.

“I know you feel happy about me not being able to enlist.” He stated bluntly.  I sighed heavily and said to him.

“Gene…..”

“Don’t lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. I know you to damn well (y/n).” I sadly looked at him and said.

“But it’s not what you’re thinking. You know how devastating it was for me to lose my brother. And then I had to take care of my mama and in the end she died of a broken heart from losing a child, not even caring that she left her youngest one behind. And with Sidney now away fighting the Japs I fear that he too will die. Gene I—I can’t lose anyone else in my life, I just can’t I…..” tears started falling down the corner of my eyes.

“Hey, hey I’m sorry, I’m sorry sweet girl, come here.” He pulled me up and embraced me. My head resting against his shoulder as I softly wept. “I’m sorry doll, I’m so sorry. But you do realize that Sidney is about as stubborn as wild hog, he ain’t gonna let no Jap get the best of him, he’s too stubborn for his own good. Always has been.” That at least got me to choke out a laugh. “There’s my happy girl, with that million dollar smile that I love so much.” He said as he separated from me and wiped away my tears with his thumbs.

He softly kissed the corner of my mouth and I said to him.

“I’m sorry Genie I just….I just don’t know what I would do without you in my life. You’re my soulmate, the one I want to spend my life with till we’re both old and grey, sitting on the porch swing back at the house. My muse.” His thumb kept stroking my cheek and wiping away any tears that fell down my face.

“And I’m honored to be your muse. If I could draw half as good as you, you’d most definitely would be my muse as well. But know this my sweet girl, when I do pass and this murmur goes away; know that I will always be there for you. I’m making you a solemn promise right now that I will fight my way back home to you. Because I’m not just wanting to join because of my country, I want to enlist because I want to protect you. If the Japs managed to bomb Hawaii what’s to stop them from coming here in Alabama? I couldn’t live with myself if I came here to see this place burned to the ground and you lying dead burning. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

“Oh Eugene….” I said as I captured his lips softly with mine.  I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hands gently combing through his auburn hair while feeling his arms bringing me tighter and closer to him as our kiss deepened.  When air became a burden, we separated but kept our foreheads together and our noses brushing against one another every second.

“I love you (y/n), more than a frog loves the bayou, more than a gator needs water to live, and more than birds need to fly. You are my dove, and I want you to always be safe.”

“And I you Eugene Sledge.” We kissed each other again and just remained together in each other’s arms kissing back and forth between each other listening to the birds chirping and the crickets playing their symphonic orchestra.

Weeks passed and I was down by the lake doing a sketch of Eugene in Marine uniform when I could hear footsteps behind me coming down towards me.  I knew instantly who it was and I had a feeling that I knew what he had to say.

“It’s gone.” He stated.  My heart shattered and I shut my eyes trying to hold in the tears. “I’m planning on leaving for boot camp tomorrow morning, will you come with me to the station to see me off?” I turned towards him and said trying to be happy for him after our talk weeks back.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Plus it’d seem unfair if I went to see my best friend off and not my own boyfriend.” He softly smiled and chuckled lightly before coming and sitting down beside me.

“Promise me you’ll look after Deacon for me?”

“Of course, he’s practically our son after all.” I said.  I leaned against his shoulder and sighed softly trying to keep my tears at bay.  “Can you promise me something Eugene?”

“Anything.” I turned towards him and picked up my picture that I had been working on and folded it up before holding it out to him,

“Take this picture and be sure to bring it back to me. If you do, I promise to make more of them. But if you don’t, then I give up painting forever.”

“What? (Y/n) you can’t give up painting because of me, it’s been your dream—”

“And my dream wouldn’t be complete without you in it.” I interrupted him.  We stared into each other’s eyes as I said, “You are the reason I keep getting inspired Genie, and I want to one day share my fame of being an artist with you by my side and introduce you to everyone as the man whose inspired my paintings. My muse. Most girls would give a ring that symbolizes their heart but I’m giving you something far more precious to me. A work of art that I’ve been working on since the but crack of dawn this morning. But don’t you dare look at it till you get on that train.”

“Why can’t I have a peek of it now?” he asked.

“Because I may not have the strength to let you go if you see it. And I know how fighting in this war means to you. My brave soldier boy.” I stroked his cheek and he leaned against my palm and kissed it.

“You have my word. I will not look at it until I get on the train. I promise to always keep it close to my heart.  And when I come back, I shall return it to you.”

“That’s my brave boy.” I said as I leaned forward and kissed him.  His arms wrapping around my waist pulling me closer to him.

The next morning right before sunrise, I stood at the train station standing in front of Eugene who was officially dressed in full Marine uniform.

“You got everything you need?” I asked him.

“Yeah.”

“You have my picture on you?”

“Right where I said I’d always keep it.�� He said as he patted the left side of his chest.

“Good, now you remember your promise to me?”

“I remember my dove.” I smiled and nodded but could feel my throat tightening up. “Oh (y/n),” I sniffled and felt him hug me and I tried my best not to cry on his uniform and he whispered, “Please don’t cry, I don’t want the last thing I see before I leave to be my best girl weeping her eyes out.”

“I’m sorry Gene I—I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. I’ve even been practicing but I guess it was for nothing.” I choked out.

“Aww doll, shhh, shhh. It’ll be okay. I promise I’ll be back before you can even have the chance to miss me.”

“Not possible.” He softly laughed and looked down at me and cupped my face in his hands.  I placed my hands on top of his and guided his left hand towards my lips and kissed each of his finger tips and he said.

“Let me see that smile one last time.” I looked right up at him and did my best to smile for him.  “Aww there it is. Keep that smile on that beautiful face for a while longer, long enough for me to forever remember it.” He said as he wiped away any stray tears.

The train whistle blew and the conductor was calling for last minute boarding’s.

“I have to go.” He whispered to me.  “I love you so much (y/n) (l/n)”

“And I love you Eugene Sledge. Please stay safe out there, and never forget about me.”

“Doll it’s impossible for me to ever forget about you. Keep painting while I’m away, can you promise me that?”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s my best girl.”

“Promise to write to me?”

“Whenever I can my dove.” We kissed each other one final time and Eugene picked up his bags and boarded the train.  I shakily exhaled as I wiped away the tears from my eyes as I soon saw Eugene open his window and wave to me.  I waved back smiling and blew him a kiss just as the train was starting to depart.

The last I ever saw of Eugene was him waving goodbye to me, telling me that he loved me till the end of our days.

*Eugene’s POV*

As the train left the station and I could no longer see (y/n), I sat back down on my seat and closed the window up.  After a few seconds I then reached into my breast pocket of my uniform and took out the folded piece of paper that would have her drawing that she had made me take.

Like I swore to her, I never did look at it overnight while I was packing my bags. Otherwise I knew she’d have my head if she found out.  I unfolded the paper slowly until it was finally unfolded and there on the page was a picture of me.

It was a charcoal drawing of me in full combat gear, the helmet I was sure to wear once I would go out onto the battlefield, probably using either her brother’s or even her father’s helmet as a reference picture.  The picture looked like it could be a future shot of what I may look like in my times at war.

My girl was always clever when it came to her art.  She always made it realistic, never once giving someone an inappropriate emotion based on the scenario at hand.  It was then I finally took notice of a note at the bottom corner of the page. It read as followed;

My brave soldier,

Please come back to me my Muse, my soldier, my love.

-Yours forever

(Y/n) (l/n)

Her name signed in her beautiful penmanship whenever she would sign her drawings and sketches.

I sighed and quietly said her name as I folded the picture up and kissed it before placing it back in my breast pocket and pressed it over my heart.

I promise my love, I’ll fight my way back to you. Remember me. I will come back for you my darling artist.

*My POV. July 21st, 1943*

It had been over a year since Eugene left and life hadn’t been as easy as you would think it would be.  I tried to get on with my life working and trying to sell my paintings but with rejection letters coming in left and right, and the workload at the restaurant piling up, I sure wish Gene was still here.

The only upside is when I would visit his parents and make sure our baby boy Deacon was still a happy, healthy dog.  Today I had asked to take Deacon for the weekend just to give Dr. and Mrs. Sledge a bit of a break, and since knowing me ever since I was a little girl, they gladly accepted for me taking Deacon, Mrs. Sledge knowing that I needed something of Eugene’s to keep calm by.

As we arrived back at my house after going for our walk in the park, I checked the mail same as every other day.  More bills and mortgage payments on the house, but then I came across a letter that was addressed to me and right in the corner it read.

EUGENE SLEDGE.

“Oh Deacy, daddy’s wrote back to us. You wanna hear what he wrote? Huh? You wanna hear what he wrote?” Deacy barked happily and I giggled and led him inside as I said, “Come on let’s go inside and read it.” He barked and raced on inside the house and I followed behind him.

Deacon hoped up onto the couch and I sat down beside him and took my letter opener and slide it through the envelope.  Deacon came up onto my lap sniffing the paper so I had to push him back and say.

“Hold on boy let me get it out first of all,” finally I managed to get the letter out and I had seen that it had been written about 4 weeks ago according to the date in the corner.  It read as followed;

My dearest, (y/n)

Your words and letters are about the only thing that help bring me comfort in this God forsaken island.  It’s always either hot or raining like it does back home during the wet seasons.

I’m so glad that Deacon is doing fine and I can’t thank you enough for taking care of our boy. Please give him my love and tell him that I miss him. But every night when I can, I pull out the picture you gave me before I left and it feels like you’re right there beside me. And it’s shocking how now I’m beginning to look more and more like the picture.

War is brutal and it really changes people. And I’m really glad that you aren’t here to see it, I couldn’t bear it if m best girl changed forever.

In fact funny story, one day when I was looking at the picture, my war partner Snafu (real asshole by the way) he saw me looking at the picture thought I was looking at some porn mag or somethin, so he snatched it away from me and soon he and the other guys in my unit were hassling me. They didn’t believe that my girlfriend the artist ‘captured my ugly mug correctly’ according to them. Telling me that she must either be ‘blind or I had to bribe you to draw me like that’.

I miss you my dove, I miss you so much. Every night I dream about you and our quiet little paradise right in your backyard.  Please if you can in the next let that you send, will you include a picture of yourself. Not a photograph but a hand drawn sketch of yourself. I want to see you in art form, draw yourself as beautiful as you make your drawings. (Not to say that you aren’t beautiful in real life because you are, it’s just I’ve never once seen you sketch yourself, and I would like to have a portrait of the beautiful artist that I found myself lucky to call my girl).

I look forward to hearing your response my darling. I love you forever more and I’m always thinking of you.

Yours forever,

Eugene

I laughed and cried as I read his letter.  I wiped away the tears and Deacy softly whimpered as he raised his nose up to my cheek and licked my tears away.  I laughed sadly as I stroked Deacon’s head and I told him.

“Thanks Deacy, and I know. I miss your daddy too.” I then went over to my desk and took out a sheet of paper and a pen and I began writing my response to him.

My darling Eugene,

Even though this letter arrived four weeks after you wrote this, I am still glad to have received another one at all.  It still gives me hope that you are still alive and kicking Jap ass out there.  I’m so sorry the weather’s unbearable to you but we’ve survived worse, right?

And I always give your love to our baby boy, he really does miss his daddy so much.  Sometimes when I bring him over to my place, he just lays there by the door with his head between his paws just waiting for his daddy to come home.

I on the other hand could be better.  I’ve been trying to sell my paintings but each time I’ve gotten rejection letter after rejection letter, I really wish you were here right now. You’ve always known what to say to help boost my confidence up and make me keep striving until one day I get that acceptance letter.

And them boys just be joshin you. My brother’s unit was the same way when he first joined but they eventually became not only brothers in arms but brothers for life.  Every now and then the ones who have been honorably discharged come and check up on me just to see how I’ve been holding up.  You’re handsome and you always will be handsome.

I’ll try to include a sketch of myself but you know I how feel about it.  I never thought I was sketch worthy but for you, I’ll try to come up with something. Maybe then it’ll get your Marine buddies of yours to quite picking on the fact you’re lying about a girl.

I love you Eugene, you’re the light of my life. Keep that promise you made me and come home to me safe and in one piece.  Your parents, Deacy and I love and miss you so much.

Your beautiful dove,

(Y/n)

I sighed solemnly and that’s when I noticed my mother’s old camera sitting a few feet away from the entrance to the studio.  The wheels and gears began turning in my head as I sat up and grabbed it and tried to see if I could get it to work since it hadn’t been used ever since James died 2 years ago.

When I finally managed to get a good test picture out, I placed the camera a few feet away from the studio couch and angled it to the exact spot I wanted it in. I set the timer and quickly went over to the couch.

“Deacon come here boy.” I whistled and he soon hopped up and set half of his body up on my lap while his lower body came around behind me.  I looked up at the camera stroking Deacon’s head so that it would make him stay while the camera soon flashed and took the picture.  As I stood up, Deacon hopped off and I went to grab the picture and let it get developed properly.

Once the picture was ready, I took out a sheet of plane paper and a basic pencil and studied the picture and did my best to copy the exact picture into drawing format.

Of course due to my insecurities of drawing myself, my trash bin was filled all the way to the top of failed sketches.  Also my job kept me pretty busy so I had to hold off on the sketch for what felt like forever.

Until finally about a month later, I managed to get semi-correct with my portion shown in the picture.  Deacon of course looked good as per usual, he’s always been my favorite thing to sketch besides Gene.  Whether he was running, chasing the ducks by the river, swimming or lying right under the sun, Deacon was worthy of sketching.

I hoped that Gene didn’t think I was bailing out on him for this late response so I added a quick note to the picture apologizing for taking so damn long. I also went ahead and placed the photo in with the letter and drawing just so he’d understand why it took me so long.

I didn’t hear anything back from Gene until the following year.

1944 was a cruel year.  Not only for the war and the lives we were losing but I was depressed because one day Deacon could barely walk anymore.  I went to pick him up for the weekend but he barely even noticed I was there.  I had asked Mrs. Sledge what was wrong and she too didn’t know.  She told me Deacon wouldn’t eat, drink, and he barely got up from his little dog bed.

So we took him to the vets office and it turned out that he had a tumor in his stomach and that there was nothing that they could do about it.  So we had no choice but to put Deacon to sleep.

To show him that he wouldn’t be alone, I stayed with him as the vet gave him the injection and my last words to him as I stroked his head gently.

“You’ve been a good boy Deacon. And even though daddy couldn’t be here to say goodbye, just know that he loved you soo much. You’re a good boy Deacy, mama loves you so much and she always will.”

From that day I barely picked up another pencil, hell I barely even went into my studio anymore because of that.  Not only that but without Deacon, I began to have nightmares of one day answering the door and like a repeat of what happened with James, the office of the Marines telling me that Eugene had be KIA.

The only upside was when Sidney came back and made a surprise visit.  I almost couldn’t believe it, at first I thought I was dreaming but I soon realized that it wasn’t a dream at all.  Sidney Phillips had returned home to me, my best friend since childhood had survived the war and returned home.

He told me how he and Eugene actually reunited with each other on the island of Pavuvu several months back.  He told me all about the islands he went to, and of course Sidney Phillips can’t go one conversation without bringing up all the exotic women he got to meet whether in Australia, the nurses on base camp, even British girls.

“I swear Phillips you can never go one day without bringing a beautiful girl into a conversation.”

“Ahh c’mon (y/n) you know that no matter how many girls I meet, you’re always gonna be my number 1.”

“Yeah right.” I teased.

“I swear as a Marine you will always be my number 1 best girl, even once I find me a lady of my own you will still be my number 1. You’ve always been like a little sister to me (n/n) and nothing’s ever gonna change that.” I smiled softly at him and he opened his arms and I fell into his embrace and hugged him back. “And Eugene was faithful to you, wouldn’t even look at another woman.”

I slapped him in the back of the head making him cry out in mock agony and I told him.

“You always have to get a rile out of me don’t yah?”

“Well you two are just so adorable that it’s practically my sworn duty to tease you both to no end. I’ve been wanting you both to get together since our start of junior high. Oh speaking of which, I have something for you,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.  “Eugene wanted me to give this to you once my licenses expired. He also told me to tell you that he’s sorry that this letter couldn’t be delivered sooner and he explains it more in mushy gooey lovey-dovey detail that you both talk about in your letters.”

“I swear Sid if you read this letter I’m gonna beat your ass from Mobile straight to New Orleans.”

“I promise I didn’t read a single thing, I just know that’s how you both talk. Goof Lord I still remember all the love letters Gene used to make me pass to you in class back in high school. What a nightmare.” I shoved him playfully and opened up the letter and I immediately recognized Eugene’s penmanship.

My darling girl,

It pains my heart to hear from your last letter of what you’ve been going through.  And those stuck-up, high horsed business men don’t know true talent when they see it. Your work is a gift from God, I would give up every bone in my body if I could draw half as good as you.

It hurts to not be there to hold you in my arms, to tell you that everything will be okay, to kiss away your tears of heartbreak.  But never doubt your skills, I still believe that one day someone’s gonna come and beg to you on their hands and knees for just a simple sketch of your work.

I’m sorry to have to tell you this but this will unfortunately be my last letter for a while.  They’re sending my squad out to Okinawa and we can’t risk letters getting intercepted, I asked Sid here to give this to you personally so that it would immediately get to you and that you wouldn’t have to wait for months on end for this one.

If only I could control it, I would say screw it I’ve got a girl worried sick about me, let me write to her I would but unfortunately I can’t. But, I keep your self-portrait right next to mine over my heart.  And of course once Snafu and the other guys saw both the photograph and the drawing of you and Deacon, they did what all Marine men do from not seeing a woman for months even years on end.

But don’t worry I set them straight and told them that if they made one single crude comment about you, then my boot would be shoved straight up their asses.  And I thought your drawing was beautiful, it’s just how I remember you my beautiful tulip.

I will always love you and you are always on my mind.  I hope you realize that and that I dream of you every night, holding you once again in my arms. Because I still have a promise to keep, and you know that once I make a promise, it never gets broken.

All the best love my best girl. Stay strong my best girl.

All the love,

Eugene

P.S. keep and eye out for Sid, ever since joining the Marines he’s gotten an even bigger head than usual, make sure he stays out of trouble back home.

“So be honest, did he mention me at all?” I heard Sid asked.  Suddenly I fell to my knees and felt my throat choke up. “(Y/n)? What is it what’s going on?” Tears formed in my eyes and I openly wept.

“I can’t…..I can’t do this anymore!”

“Hey, hey, hey c’mere sweetheart, c’mere” I felt Sidney wrap his arms around me and I wept into his chest.  The only thing to come out of his mouth were words of comfort as he held me tighter and rocked me from side to side.

“I miss him Sid, I—I miss him so goddamn much!”

“So do I baby girl, so do I.” he whispered as his hand rested on top of my head and I continued to cry and sniffle into his chest.

“What if this is the last letter I ever get from him? What if he—I…..I know I’ll lose him. Just like I dream every night. I’m gonna lose him just like everyone else in my life.” I sobbed out.

“Hey now, you look at me (y/n) (l/n).” He separated from me and gripped my shoulder tightly.  I winced at the strong grip he was giving me and at seeing my face wince that at least got him to loosen up his grip as he said, “I’m sorry, but what kind of bullshit was that that I just heard out of your mouth? Eugene was too damn stubborn to give up when he had that heart murmur as he tried to enlist. He’s too damn stubborn to let his unit get him down when they would tease him about your gooey relationship, and he’s too stubborn to love anyone else but you. You strive him to be better. He will come back to you (y/n). Even if I have to perform some freaky voodoo magic just to bring him back from the dead to do so.”

“Do—do you really think so?”

“I know so sweetie bell. Gene loves you too much to let you be alone. After all that you’ve been through, he won’t kick the bucket just yet. Not unless you’re there by his side and you both are old and gray with 12 mini yous named after me by his bedside.”

“12?” I choked out laughing as I stared up at him.

“Not enough, okay how about 24 then.”

“God Sid Gene was sure right about one thing, your big head has gotten even worse.”

“I deny that. I should have him take that back, so when he does return you give him this from me to him.” He then wrapped an arm around me and proceeded to give me a hard yet playful noogie.

“Gah Sid stop it!!” I laughed out as I tried to free myself from his grip but he kept a tight hold of me.

*Aug. 15th, 1945 3rd Person POV*

It finally happened.  The Japanese surrendered to the Allied powers and it was on this day that WW2 had finally come to an end.  After America had suffered 4 long, agonizing years since the bombing of Pearl Harbor the military men from each branch were free to go home and return to their families that they had to leave behind.

Eugene Sledge rode on the train bound from East coast to west coast taking all the military men and woman back to their hometowns.  As he buttered up his biscuit one of his friends, Romus Burgin asked him.

“What about you Sledgehammer, got any plans back at Mobile?”

“No job, no plans, but the first thing I’m gonna do is see my girl again.”

“Ahh right, the artist. Think she could paint me like one of those French boys?” teased Snafu as he leaned up against the wall.

“Please your ugly mug would break her canvas before she could even start.” Teased Eugene which made the three of them laugh.

“Think she’s gonna come greet you back in Mobile?”

“That is if she hasn’t gotten her big break yet.” Answered Eugene as he popped a piece of his biscuit into his mouth.

The next day, Eugene finally arrived back in his hometown of Mobile, Alabama.  He had woken up to see that Snafu and the rest of his unit had left, leaving him the only one in his booth.  He gathered his sack and exit the train and walked along till finally he saw his best friend, Sidney Phillips parked along the station standing in front of his car.

Eugene smiled as he walked up to his best friend and tossed him his sack as he said.

“You wanna take this for me or what?” Sidney laughed as he caught the sack and patted his best friend’s shoulder and said.

“Good to see you Eugene.” Gene walked over to the passenger side of the car while Sidney tossed his friend’s sack into the backseat and got into the driver’s seat and soon pulled out of the station and headed on down the road.

As they drove, Eugene asked.

“You talked to (y/n) lately?”

“Check in whenever I can. But you know her, sometimes she’s as stubborn as an ox. Which makes her perfect for you because you’re pretty much the same way.” Eugene sarcastically laughed at Sidney who snickered and then Eugene said.

“What was she doing last you checked on her?” Sidney sighed heavily and said.

“To be honest Gene, I don’t know. I mean this last year has been pretty rough on her but I won’t say any more than that. That’s something for you and her to discuss in your own time. I made a vow to not spill any beans of her secrets.” Eugene nodded in understandment, meanwhile feeling his heart clench at the fact that his girl was suffering, from what he had no idea but he knew he was gonna try to make everything right again.

Finally after driving for about an hour and a half, they reached their destination; (Y/n)’s house.  Sidney had parked a few yards away from the front door as a way of surprising (y/n) much like he did when he had returned from war.

“Go and get your girl Eugene.”

“Keep it running for us will yah?” Eugene said.  Sidney nodded then Eugene opened the passenger side door and got out of Sidney’s car.

*Eugene’s POV*

I now stood on grounds that I haven’t stepped foot on for what felt like a lifetime ago. I walked up the gravel road until I reached her front yard.  Thankfully I didn’t have to go in because right there sleeping on the front porch swing was my beautiful girl.

As quietly as I could, I walked up the three front steps of her porch and stood over her.  She certainly has changed since the last time I saw her; her hair now appeared to be shoulder length as she would usually keep her hair up in a messy bun whenever she would sleep, she certainly has grown as her face now looked more mature than that child-like face I’ve always came to love so much.

But she was still as beautiful as the day I left for the Marines.

She had one hand tucked underneath her head while the other was placed on top of one of her many sketchbooks.  I slowly reached out and stroked away a strand of her hair and caressed her soft cheek. The first time touching something this soft in what felt like eternity.

She practically looked like Snow White sleeping in her glass coffin, and with the sun bouncing off her giving her that halo look, it was like looking at an angel.

I smiled down at her then I slowly leaned forward and I almost hated to do this but I had to, I hadn’t kissed my girl in forever and if I didn’t do it now, then I’d really go crazy.  I gently pressed my lips to hers and god it really did feel like I was home now.  Her soft, plump yet slightly chapped lips from all the times she’s licked her lips or bit then whenever she was fully concentrating on a piece she’d be working on, felt like heaven on mine.

After the first soft kiss, I kissed her again and this time I felt her sleepily kiss me back.  I smiled into the kiss before I backed away from her, her long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings as she started to stir and wake up.

*My POV*

I was having the first perfect dream in months.  Eugene had come back alive and unharmed and the two of us were down in our little heaven at the lake and that’s when he leaned forward and kissed me.

But the strangest thing happened.  Unlike this kiss, it felt almost too real.  Like I was actually being kissed physically.  As Eugene separated from me, he told me as he faded into darkness.

“Wake up Snow White, wake up.” Soon my dream disappeared into darkness.  I softly moaned and stirred awake and that’s when I saw someone in Marine uniform kneeling right beside me.  At first I thought it was some sick pervert taking advantage of a sleeping girl on her front porch, but the face soon cleared up and kneeling before me was Eugene Sledge.

My Eugene.

“I guess the saying is true, if you kiss a princess with true love’s kiss, she’ll wake up.”

“Eugene” I muttered softly.  I hesitantly reached up to cup his face, fearing that this was still a dream.  My heart hammering away like a sledgehammer. He softly smiled at me before taking my hand and placing it over his heart.  Even through the uniform, I could still feel his heartbeat.  I choked out.  “I’ve only dreamed of this about a million times and every time I end up waking up and crying hysterically because you always end up gone in the end. I can’t handle it again if this is a dream. Please, please to God in heaven let this be real.”

“It is my beautiful dove, I’ve come back to you. You don’t need to cry hysterically for me anymore.” He said as he cupped my face with both of his hands, his thumbs stroking the top of my cheeks.  His touch sent shivers up my spine as his eyes bored into mine.  I lowered my head and wept out.

“Oh yes I do!” Eugene then pressed his lips against mine and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as we both kissed each other.

His chapped lips clamped onto mine with the most gentlest yet urgent pressure as I felt his strong arms now wrap around my back bringing me down to his lap cradling me while still keeping his lips on mine.  I felt his arms go under my knees as he picked me up bridal style and spun me around softly.

Even though our lips separated from each other, our noses didn’t as they kept grazing against each other and we both stared into each other’s eyes.  His brown eyes staring deeply into my (e/c) eyes. Both of us filled with tears of joy.

He set me down on my feet but kept a strong grip around my back as we both smiled at each other lovingly.  I placed my hand on his cheek and he nuzzled into my palm kissing it while the back of his hand brushed against my cheek, his thumb wiping away any tears that came streaming down like a river.

“Every day for 4 years…..I—I hoped and dreamed that you’d come back to me, but this past year I began to fear that you weren’t I….I tried so hard but I just couldn’t……”

“Shhh, shh, shshsh hey. I’m here now, I’m right here. This is real (y/n), I kept my promise to you. I came back for you. And I’m never leaving your side again.” He said as he brought me closer to him and embraced me tightly.  I hugged him back with just as much strength as I could as I wept into his shoulder.

“Hold me.” I wept out.

“Ohh forever and always.” He said.

“Tighter!” I cried out and soon I felt Eugene’s arms wrap around me tighter bringing me closer to him.  He kissed my temple, the crown of my forehead, the top of my head, anywhere he could reach assuring me that he was here.

“Although I broke my promise about the picture, I lost it in the last recon mission I went on before the Japs surrendered.”

“I don’t give a damn about the picture,” I looked up at him and cupped his face in my hand, “All I care about is you. You’ve come back to me in one piece, just like you promised.”

“And I never break my promises to my best girl.” He said with that loving smile on his face as he leaned against my palm and kissed it once more.  He then brought me in for another kiss and held me in his arms once more.

The day went on and I went with Gene to go see his parents, his ma was about as emotional as I was to see her baby boy back home alive, and his pa had never been more proud of his son in all his years.

That night we all had a welcome home feast at the Sledge manor, Eugene, his parents, myself, his brother Ed and his wife Martha.  Everyone was full of smiles and laughs as Edward told us war stories and even gifted Mary with the German Nazi flag that he himself took down during one of his missions.

I noticed Eugene hiding in the corner so I walked up towards him and took his hand in mine as I told him.

“You got no war stories to tell?”

“What’s there to tell? I fought and killed Japs in the worst possible way, seen things no human being should ever see, and there should be men that deserve to be home with their families, not still on those islands rotting away like trash.” I stroked the back of his hand comfortingly and I said.

“I’m not saying tell the stories of what you’ve done. Tell me more about them boys in your unit. The way you talked about them in some of your letters to me, they seemed like you all have become true brothers. Much like James’ unit did. C’mon Gene at least tell me what they were like.” I dragged him out of the darkness and the two of us sat together on the couch and he told me everything about every man he had ever known while serving out there.

He told me about the friend’s he’s made, what he learned from them and told me of how they’d always poke fun at each other but to them it was all out of love, the Marine way anyways.

When it was time for bed, Mrs. Sledge offered me a guest bedroom to sleep in that was right next door to Gene’s bedroom as well as some night dresses for me to wear.  But I woke up hearing the sounds of Eugene screaming and crying.  I raced out of my room to see Mrs. Sledge looking from the master bedroom worried while Dr. Sledge sat on a chair looking solemn with sorrow and regret.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s dealing with the past trauma of what the war has done to him. He may not have any physical scars but the mental ones will remain forever.” I went over to Eugene’s door but before I could open it, his father told me, “I would force him awake. It will make him lash out at you, and I know Eugene would be even more devastated if he found out he had hurt you.”

“I love him Dr. Sledge, please at least let me try to get a hold of him.”  He turned to his wife who looked at him with sad eyes before he sighed solemnly to me and he said.

“Very well (y/n), but don’t touch him or move him at all. That’s usually what causes Veterans like Eugene to lash out.” I thanked him and went inside Eugene’s room.

Even from the darkness and the light of the moon, I could see Eugene thrashing around, sweat glistened on his face and tears staining his cheeks.  His knuckles burning white from the grip he had on his sheets as he kept crying and screaming in his sleep.

I slowly walked up to Eugene and grabbed a chair from his desk and sat beside him. I tried to remember the lullaby my old nanny Harriet used to sing to me and my brother as well as my father when he was going through this.  I thought and thought about how the words went since she sang it in her native language of Swahili until finally it came to me.

Imba wimbo

Wa upepo

Wakati unajiwa na

Imba wimbo wa upepo

Wakati ndoto tamu

Lala mpaka usiku uisheni

Upepo wa usiku

Wimbo wanko na

Wimbo wangu inaendelea milele

As I sang the song, Eugene began to calm down within the first few lyrics of the song until he settled down completely and his eyes soon opened up and looked up at me.  I smiled down at him and stroked the hair out of his face and I said to him.

“It’s okay Genie, you’re not there anymore. You’re in Mobile once again, far from that god awful place. You’re with your family, Sidney, and me. You’re back home with your dove.”

“My dove?”

“That’s right Eugene, your beautiful dove is here.” I said as I took his hand and placed it over my heart.  He looked up at me before breaking down into sobs.

“I’m sorry…..I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for Eugene Sledge, you hear me boy? Not a damn thing to apologize for.” I said as I embraced him, laying his head over my heart as I continued to sob.  I rubbed his back and stroked my fingers through his hair as I kissed the top of his head and hummed the song once more, hopefully to put him to sleep.

Once I felt him relax and I looked down to see that he had in fact fallen asleep once more, I stayed with Eugene the entire night and never once left his side.

Days passed by and now it was the time for the ball.  Every military man was decked out in uniform in honor of celebrating the victory against the Axis powers.  I of course had to arrive late because of an interview I had for a new job.

Ever since getting let go from the restaurant, I was jobless and frantically searching for a new job since I practically gave up drawing after Deacon died.  Music was playing from the orchestra, the manor was crowded with people both inside and out all dressed to the full T in either tuxes, dresses or Military uniforms.

I walked around hoping to see either Sid or Gene in this crowd when I heard a voice call my name.

“(Y/n)!” I turned around and saw Mary.

“Mary.” She raced up to me and we both hugged each other and kissed each other’s cheeks.

“How did the interview go?”

“Horrible. The guy was a creep I think I should give up the job search.”

“Well you know my brother owns a law firm, I could help get you a job there as his new secretary.”

“No, no Mary I can’t ask that of you.”

“(Y/n) at least consider it. I mean I did ask you last minute to be my Maid of Honor after my first one had to step down because of the sudden premature birth of her baby.”

“I’ll think about it, but you know how I feel about working behind desks.”

“I know honey, you lookin for Eugene?” I nodded and she said, “Well Sidney went out back to find him since he had snuck out. Been gone for god knows how long, come with me and we can bring those two Marines of ours back in here and dance the night away.” She took my arm and guided me towards the backyard.

We soon found the boys outside at the bottom of the stairs that led to the garden. Mary smirked and strutted towards the boys and cried out.

“Sidney Phillips!”

“Yeah!” he cried out as he turned around.

“Will you get back in here and dance with the woman who loves you?”

“I’m coming boss lady!” Sid proclaimed as he stood up.  He then turned to Gene and said to him, “why don’t you come on in? And we can find the woman you love and dance with her.”

“She’s already present and accounted for Phillips.” I said as I now stood by Mary. Gene laughed but declined the invite and soon Sidney and Mary went back on inside arm to arm while I walked down and stood by Eugene.

“Have I told you, you look beautiful in (f/c)?” He said to me.  I looked down at the (f/c) dress that I had chosen for tonight’s ball….well more like Mary dragged me out to the mall and bought it for me.

It was a floor length velvet dress and I had on the same color velvet gloves that went up to my elbows.  Mary had helped me earlier that morning for my interview by curling my hair into gentle waves and helped me with my makeup and I just kept that with the dress I would eventually wear for the ball tonight.

“Mary picked out the dress, I had nothing to do with it. I almost didn’t even wanna come till she told me you were coming. Just without the uniform on.”

“I don’t feel the need to see why I should. I did what I did because I had to. I did what I was ordered to do, I don’t see why I need to brag about all the horrors I’ve done wearing the uniform that I did those things in.”

“And I don’t blame you, besides uniform or not I know what the love of my life did to serve his country. And I’m always gonna be proud of him for it, no matter what.” He smiled softly at me and took my hand in his and placed a kiss on the back of my hand.

“How did the interview go today?”

“Horrible, the guy kept looking at my breasts than anything else. He barely listened to a word I said at all, so I just walked right out of there in the middle of the interview. Spent hours in the shower trying to get the interview off of my, that’s why I’m so late.”

“And it’s a good thing you did. Now do you mind telling me where his address is so that I can beat his ass in for eyein my girl.” I laughed softly and said to him.

“If I knew I would tell you, how did registering for Alabama Poly-Tech go?” I could tell from the expression on his face that it didn’t go too well.  “So I guess we’re both in the same boat of terrible days then, huh?”

“They asked whether I did any accounting or journalism while in the Corp.” I scoffed and shook my head.

“I’m sorry Gene.” I wrapped my hands around his arm and leaned up against his shoulder, hoping that would give him some comfort.

“Do you think you can paint me something once we get to your place?” I sighed heavily and looked up at him and said.

“I don’t know Gene……”

“Please? I’ve missed seeing my girl work in her prime element. The way you’d move your pencil when sketching out the bases, the way you’d stroke your brush against the canvas.”

“I haven’t really done anything artistic since Deacon died, and the nightmares of you ending up dead only kept giving me negative influences when it came to my art. After I did one drawing of you dead on the battlefield I immediately burned that picture in the fireplace and swore I wouldn’t paint or draw again until this war was over. Even now I think I’ve lost all inspiration and creativity to even pick up a pencil to even sketch a flower.” I looked down at my feet shamefully as tears formed in my eyes.

I felt Eugene’s fingers softly cup my chin as he raised it up and I was now staring into his hazelnut brown eyes.

“Then let me be your inspiration. You always called me your muse didn’t you? And now that I’m back, I can stand by you and help you figure out what to paint or draw. We’re not thinking of trying to impress others, we’re doing it for the hell of it. To get back the artistic girl I fell in love with the day I first met her in art class back in the 2nd grade.” I smiled at him and said to him.

“I love you Eugene Sledge.”

“And I love you, (y/n) (l/n).” He leaned his forehead against mine and we stayed in that position for awhile until Eugene secretly took my hands and wrapped my left one around his shoulder and I felt his right hand go to my waist as he softly swayed.

“I thought Eugene Sledge didn’t dance?” I teased him.

“You missed the second part; Eugene Sledge don’t dance unless he wants to. And when it comes to his most favorite artist who is also the light of his life, he’ll gladly dance until the end of time.” I smiled and leaned my head on his shoulder and felt him kiss my temple while the two of us kept swaying from side to side.

We soon ditched the party and now we were back at my place.  For the first time in over a year, I stood before my art studio. A dark aurora surrounded it like a dark storm cloud over the horizon.

“It’s okay doll, we’ll go in together.” Eugene said as he took my hand in his and gave it a tight squeeze.  He did not once force me inside the studio or drag me into it, he waited right there behind me and allowed me to lead him inside.  We stood there for lord knows how long until finally I got the courage to step inside the studio.

We sat down at the couch and Eugene handed me a sketch book and pencil.  He then brought me close, having me sit on his lap with his arms wrapped around my waist as his head leaned against mine.  I opened the sketchbook up and I asked him.

“What would you like?”

“Whatever you feel like drawing. I know I’ll love it either way.” He kissed my temple gingerly and moved his head onto my shoulder. “Take your time darlin, there’s no hurry.” I shakily inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth and pressed the pencil point onto the paper and just paused there.

I thought and thought about what I wanted to draw.  I started doing random scribbles at either the top or corners of the page until finally like the flick of a switch, something came to me.

I began drawing out the basic shape of what I wanted.  I tried to work out the highlights and shadowing of the drawing. There were multiple mistakes so I had to go through and erase them to the point I almost had no more eraser. That was until Gene handed me one of my 2 inch erasers.

After what felt like forever and multiple mistakes and smudges later, I came to the verdict of a semi-decent picture.

It was of Eugene lying on his back, holding a tiny flower towards the sun.

“It’s silly but it was the first thing that came to my mind…..”

“It’s beautiful, just like you.” I looked up at him and whispered to him gratefully.

“Thank you.” He turned to look at me and simply kissed my temple and leaned his head against mine as he whispered in my ear.

“Draw another one, this time of you my darling dove.” I turned the page and decided to draw a picture of me sitting by the lake, my feet in the water with ripples forming.

The rest of the night was spent me drawing and painting of pictures of either me, Eugene or the two of us together.  Until finally we fell asleep right there on the couch cuddled up together holding onto each other.

A few days later, I was currently with Eugene out along his front yard.  The two of us sitting underneath the grand tree that grew in their front yard. A small blanket spread out underneath us, my head was resting over Eugene’s chest, his heartbeat echoing through my ear softly beating out my name.  While his arms were wrapped around me, his left hand stroking my head while his right kept a protective yet gentle grip along my waist.

“Honestly Eugene, you look like a gangster with those glasses on.” His mother’s voice spoke up as she came towards us with two glasses of iced tea.  It’s true Gene was wearing circular brownish sunglasses over his eyes but I told her.

“I think it makes him look handsome, really brings out his hair a bit more.”

“Thank you darling showing some appreciation.” I giggled as his mother softly shook her head at us and handed us our tea glasses which I thanked her for.

“Your brother’s coming for supper this evening. Evidently he’s been named some kind of supervisor at the bank.” She said to us as she now stood in front of us.

“Better get our money out of that bank.” Eugene bluntly said.  I playfully hit his chest and muttered.

“Behave yourself.” Now not that I don’t appreciate Mrs. Sledge, I mean she’s been good to me all these years, especially for the last 10 when my family was going through death, depression and financial troubles.  She became a second mother to me especially after my mama died, but I knew there had to be a reason why she was still out here talking to us.

And my suspicions were proven correct once she said.

“I’m sure Edward could arrange a starting position for you. As well as an assistant desk job for you (y/n) at the bank.”

“We’re never gonna work at any bank mother.” Eugene said.

“Well….you need to make a plan for the future. The both of you.”

“Our plan is to do nothing for a while, we both talked about it the other night and agreed together that this is what we want to do.”

It’s true. One night while cuddling in bed together, Eugene and I started talking about where we should both go from here. I still wasn’t up-to-par of my drawings that I would normally send in to various companies or museums, and plus no one was hiring so I was practically jobless. While Eugene failed to meet any requirements college requires all because the Marine Corp thought that education was worthless when the real thing you need to know is how to survive.

But of course civilized people don’t know that, nor do they see that to be a good check off your college career, so Gene and I made an agreement to just not do anything for a while.

Just remain together and catch up on the 4 years lost with each other.

“How long is a while Eugene?”

“Leave them alone Mary Frank.” Eugene’s father spoke up.  His mother soon walked away from us and whispered to her husband. Patronizing us calling Eugene a boy and me a girl but his father told her.

“Mary Frank you have no idea. What men like him have been through. And (y/n) had to suffer not only the death of her brother and mother, but her father suffered much worse. In a way she’s experiencing what our son has been through just in her own way. Now go on let them be.” With that Mrs. Sledge walked back into the house while Dr. Sledge stayed out for a moment longer before heading back inside.

Eugene kissed my forehead once more before reaching up for his tea glass and taking a sip of it.  He turned to me and held it to me.  I raised my head and he placed his glass at my lips and I took a sip of his tea before he set it back down and I lay my head back over his heart while his fingers stroked through my hair.

Later that day, Eugene and I made a hike to a field that was about a half mile away from his place.  All around you could see tall grass and beautiful wild flowers that varied from pink to yellow specifically in that order, some logs and boulders, rising hills and sometimes birds would come down and sit upon the logs before taking off flying again.

Eugene held up a small yellow flower between his fingers raising it up in front of the sun and that’s when I found myself chuckling.

“What’s so funny?”

“You ever hear the expression ‘life intimates art?’”

“I think you might’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Well you remember the first picture I drew in over a year, the night we left the ball?” He then began to piece it together and I laughed softly as he smiled and turned towards me and brushed the flower against my nose making me smile at him and he smiled back.

“Now there’s that smile I’ve been dying to see the second I got home. My happy girl is finally back.”

“All because of you Genie. Had you—then I don’t know where I’d be.”

“Let’s not think about that right now,” he picked up my left hand and very gingerly with his thumb, caressed my left ring finger as he said, “Let’s focus on the now. No more ‘what ifs’ whatever comes our way, we face them together, no matter what.”

“Together forever—”

“Forever more.” I looked down and the next thing I saw, he had tied the yellow flower around my ring finger.  I looked back up at Eugene and his eyes held such strength in them after witnessing such horror for as long as he did, but there was also a gentleness to his brown eyes, a warm, affectionate gaze as he stared back at me.

I leaned forward and kissed him and he kissed me back cupping my face gently in his hands.  Soon the two of us spent the rest of the day until sunset walking through the fields hand in hand, my flower engagement ring still wrapped around my wedding finger until the day in one year time, it would be replaced with a real wedding ring.

In the years to come, Eugene would receive his Ph.D. in Biology then spend a career teaching at the University of Montevallo, Alabama, while in 1954 had gotten a call from the Washington D.C. art’s institution and they signed a deal with me for their Marine art exhibit that allowed either former Marines or spouses of Marines to write or paint what war has been like for them.

I’ve sold over hundreds of my drawings and paintings to the exhibit and I also teach at the same University as Eugene as the Art’s professor for realism and 3D drawing.

Managing to convince him decades later after finding his notes from the war, I told Eugene to get it published as a book and in 1981 his memoir With the Old Breed at Peleliu and Okinawa was published. Together Eugene and I had 2 sons and three grandchildren before he passed away in 2001.

Two months later after his death, I died surrounded by our sons and grandchildren and in heaven I was greeted by Eugene and we spent the rest of eternity together in heaven along every other comrade in arms that Eugene had come to know, and I was reunited with my brother and my parents.

[sin-like-me]

Equal Measure

Pairing: John Seed x (tried for a Gender Neutral Deputy)

Word Count: 4,223

Warnings: I swear, I enjoy it, and I am unapologetic. Heads up.

Summary: Associations can be dangerous, determination concerning, and a small bit of plastic incredibly weighty. 

Quick Note: This is the first time I have ever shared something I have written. Be advised there is no beta reader. The idea sprang from owning the very quilt mentioned... Also, I deeply appreciate Ubisoft and their writers for creating this entire universe. I seek only to borrow the Seeds from time to time to do with them as I will.

<~~~~~~~~>~~~~~~~~~~<~~~~~~~~~~~>~~~~~~~~~~~~~<~~~~~~~~~~~~> 

‘What in the hell am I doing?!’

This is the thought that has been echoing in your head for the last twenty minutes; its insistence so loud it nearly drowns out the surrounding cacophony of frogs. Incredulity seeps from every pore as your heavily booted feet unerringly find purchase on the forest floor. It is your sure and steady tread through the darkness that impedes the wake-up call you so desperately need. You marvel with a slightly disconnected humor as your body takes over, blazing a trail to your possible destruction. Apparently, common sense was thrown violently from a window in lieu of a surety of heart.

‘I’m going to get myself killed over a damned ill conceived notion. Sorry Resistance members, your “hero” has perished due to their own asininity. Why, you good folk thought that if the Deputy ever fell it would be at the hands of a Peggie? Maybe a Judge? More the fool you.’

A fallen tree lies across the trail and without a second thought you nimbly vault over, landing with a surprisingly mute thump. These past weeks have improved your physical prowess and given you a new appreciation for stealth. Hell, once upon a time that little feat would have taken several tries before it was landed successfully. Who knew that fighting for survival would carry such excellent side benefits? Well, ya know, other than staying alive to see another day.

‘I am a damned fool, or maybe just damned.’

Above, a sliver of moon barely illuminates the neatly tied package hooked to your belt. The item in question was a bit bulky, though light weight and useful; loot you happened upon while clearing shelter for the night. That something so simple, ridiculous even, could quite possibly bring about your death was mind boggling. Logically you knew that what you carried would not only be welcomed but deeply appreciated by the Rye family. Alas, the moment you realized what you had chanced upon HIS face swam into view; vaguely alarming you with just how quickly you drew the association. Hell, if you had an ounce of self preservation you would turn on your heel and head towards Nick’s place.

‘It’s juvenile for fucks sake!’

Trying to push aside the feeling of panic clawing its way up your sides, you mentally recall every single detail leading you to this point.

‘Maybe I’m blissed out of my mind. I HAVE to be. Were there any of those damned Bliss flowers around?’

A few hours earlier you caught sight of the small white home, its silence deafening on the edge of the surrounding chaos. Blood was smeared across the front walk, the windows shattered and no vehicles, nor Bliss bouquets, present. It appeared abandoned, a potential place of rest. Crouching you held your gun at ready, muscles tensed as you methodically peeked through windows, watching, waiting, aware and patient.

Moving silently and swiftly you covered the entire perimeter neither observing nor hearing the slightest of sounds or movements from inside. Tossing a rock into several of the windows from behind cover of the truck, you held your breath half hoping for a confrontation and half dreading one. A minute become five. Nothing. It had to be clear. The Peggies weren’t known to be particularly patient. You stood, stretched your back. The weight from your survival pack taking a small toll after a solid 8 hour hike. Only a few more feet… deep, steadying breath and you leveled your shotgun at the door. Haste made your steps a bit louder than you would have liked, but as you threw open the door and swept the room, you had to smirk. Out of the corner of your eye you managed a glimpse of your face plastered on a wanted poster.

‘Wanted? Yeah, well, good luck you fanatics. I will not go gentle into that good night.’

Lowering your weapon once you established an all clear, you viciously ripped down their pitiful attempt at intimidation. Scoffing you made damn sure to leave a heavy boot print on its face, unrepentant sinner that you were and all. Inside boxes were stacked high enough to obscure any view outside, but they also enabled some cover. A short walk-through and you mentally noted all entry and exit points, only stopping to complain once.

“Shit.”

The back door had been completely removed.

Thinking on your feet, you pushed and stacked boxes in front of the opening. It wouldn’t stop much of anything, but it would serve as a noisy warning. Truthfully, it gave you what you were craving: the illusion of safety. As satisfied as you were going to be with the makeshift barrier, you returned to the living room. The now cleared couch seemed inviting but a sudden breeze through the window frames invoked an involuntary shiver. Maybe you could find a blanket in one of the many boxes? Hell, it was worth a shot. Heading over to a solitary box sitting atop an old armchair you pulled your treasured Ka-Bar knife from the top of your boot.  Making quick work of the tape, a surprised laugh escaped your lips when you immediately hit pay dirt. Luck seemed to shadow your every move… or perhaps divine intervention?

A quick thought was spared for the Seeds as you pulled a stack of cloth out of the box. Saviors of the modern world, yet death stalked their every move. Did they not see the blatant hypocrisy? Killing or force converting the masses in order to save them from “the Great Collapse”?! It was either utter bullshit or at the very least counterintuitive.

Ahha! Your hand skims smooth, thin blue cotton. While sheets were nice, something heavier would be better...annnnddddd BINGO! A quilt. You pulled it free and shook it out, letting the ends drop to the floor. The orange glow from the dying sun gave the back of the cream colored quilt an odd glow. Eyes scanning the windows, you made your way to the couch and sat down, sheets and quilt clutched in a fist.

Rule one of survival?  Rest before resistance. Maybe the Resistance should make their own posters and hang ‘em right next to those ever so cheery YES! signs.

The light of the day dipped beyond the horizon. Night began to settle in, snuffing out the remnants of illumination and cradling you in its embrace of anonymity and obscurity. In the dark you seem safe and hidden.

The perfect silence is interrupted by a low growl from your stomach. Ah, well perhaps you need more than rest. You debate eating the cans of tuna spotted on the kitchen counter, but forgo it in favor of a protein bar from your pack. Quite frankly jimmying the can open with your knife was a little more effort than you wanted to expend at that moment. Besides the chalky texture wasn’t too terrible if you ate it quickly.

Hunger abated you set your pack and shotgun on the floor beside the couch within easy reach, and pulled the sidearm from your hip. No one was comfortable trying to sleep with a gun digging into their side. Hmmm, maybe a bit more light for the moment while you arranged yourself on the couch. Leaning up from your semi-prone position and grabbing a glow stick from the side of your hiking pack, you snap it in half, shake and are engulfed in a faint, eerie, green glow. Ah, to sleep in combat boots or not was the question. Sleeping without shoes was a luxury you had not indulged in recent memory. You had to always be ready, prepared to defend, run, or kill at a moments notice. You learned quickly that having your fight or flight response consistently heightened was not sustainable. There were moments of breaking, of utter mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion so acute you didn’t give a damn about anything at all.

This was one of those times.

Fuck the shoes.

You sat up again to unlace the well worn, well loved boots when you froze in place. Horrified amusement broke your arms out in goosebumps as its chill trickled down your spine. Oh, but God had a sense of humor. Draped across your lap the quilt you had quickly dismissed as non-descript was anything but. Large squares repeated a pattern in red, blue and cream and you couldn’t help where you mind raced. Vivid flashes assaulted your senses:  blue eyes boring into yours, his cold, barely controlled fury lapping at your soul in ravenous waves.  

You hated that you read their file before leaving the station on that fated night. For weeks you did not let yourself stop to think and consider. To empathize. You knew their documented history, knew the hell the Seed brothers had endured throughout what should have been a normal childhood. Fingers reflexively clutching the fabric in your fist, your eyes lost focus, thoughts turning further inward.

Each Seed brother had been and were being shaped by their experiences, each twisted in a different way, all needing balance.. And maybe even kindness. You offered them no excuses, could not forget nor understand their actions, but suddenly you knew you could empathize with their pasts. You could glean some form of perspective, and that scared you. Were the lines not black and white in this struggle? Were there actual shades of grey?

‘Damn it!’

You shook your head trying to physically dislodged these uncomfortable realizations. We are all a constantly evolving product of our experiences, the Seeds included. Maybe.. Maybe it was not too late?

Following that hope was a dash of reality. Too late for what? To save everyone? To be the hero to all? For peace? That is for children’s fairy tales. This was real life.. And real life was messy.

You focus on the quilt in our hand, a wild idea solidifying into a determined decision.

It is said that hope can be a dangerous thing, well, apparently you are now on a mission to prove it.  

Before you could rethink your plan, you folded the quilt into a neat square, grabbed some of the brown packing paper forgotten on the kitchen floor, and deftly wrapped the package. No luck finding any tape, so improvise and adapt. You had some gauze strips and with a little ripping it would tie it closed in a pinch. Properly secured, you examined the finished product.. It was missing a calling card, something to let him know you had delivered it, knew where he was and that you could have easy access if you so chose… but what? Then it hit you. A slow smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you leaned back into the couch, hand going for your jeans pocket. You didn’t know why you hadn’t sewn it back on yet, probably saving it as a perverse reminder of your escape. It would be the perfect nod to and  perhaps even a small dig at the man who considered himself just that “fresh” as Sharky would say.

Without a second thought you snaked a piece of gauze thread through the holes and neatly secure the small, innocuous object front and center.

Presently that tiny piece of blue plastic glinted up at you in the moonlight reminding you that yes, you were in fact enroute to one of the Seed’s compounds. Even knowing the danger you kept your pace, ducking under low hanging branches and freezing into a crouch as a twig snapped less than a klick to the west. Soundlessly your silenced P226 Amendment 2 was drawn and aimed towards the sound when you spotted a small pack of wolves stalking the vicinity. As long as lady luck kept your scent downwind you would be elusive, time to pick up the pace.

Keeping the river to your left you knew that the ranch was about an hour hike from your shelter, but that was assuming one could just waltz down the long drive and right up to the front door. You had no such luxury, so you kept to the riverbank and trees, skirting along the property line under the cover of night. You made decent time all things considered and when you found the dock you knew you had to scale the cliffs behind his home. Hmph. Good thing you took the time to wolf down that protein bar. Grappling on an empty stomach was difficult at the best of times, and grappling at night while surrounded by Peggies in various states of alert was NOT the best of times.

The cliff edge was approximately 30 feet from a side door leading into some portion of the vast building which John Seed called home. Cult members were stationed at lookout points along the four corners of the property with a small group at the front and to the sides. Right now the back was clear of patrols so you narrowed in on your destination: a patch of tall flowering plants. Pulling yourself up and over the final ridge with a soft grunt, you quickly crouched behind a nearby tree, scoping the surroundings before dashing into the midst of cover. The door was so damned close.. You unclipped the package from your waist and hefted its weight in your palm. You could throw it, but where was the personal touch in that? No, you did not come all this way pushing past exhaustion to just throw it and run. Sure the area was well lit, sure this was the home of one of the Heralds of the Collapse, but in this very moment you were foolishly unafraid. Unafraid or perhaps in some form of delirium from exhaustion.

Your suspicions spike when nary a soul comes to patrol the back door. It made no sense. The Seeds were many things, but unprepared and stupid were not one of them. Then a  certainty flitted through your subconscious:

John knows I am here.

Alright, let’s say he does. So, what do you do? Do you sit here and debate the reason why, do you leave, or do you oblige the curiosities of a man who for reasons unknown obviously has no immediate intention of capturing you? Why Sharky’s voice rang in your thoughts at that moment were unclear but damn he was right.

“Ride or Die.” you whisper.

Standing tall, equal parts foolhardy and confident, you make your way to the backdoor, eyes always forward in defiance of any possible threats. With a studied casualness you ascend the two steps to the cedar stoop, package in hand. Well, so far, so good. Glancing up you spot a red light. Mhm, of course John liked to watch.

‘Well Mr. John Seed, enjoy the show.’

Dropping to one knee, you make sure to mockingly exaggerate every movement.

“An offering to the god Maximon.” you mutter sarcastically staring at the camera stationed in the corner of the overhang. “Google it John.”

You wink, a delicious trill of excitement tugging your lips into a smirk.  Standing then, you flip him the nationwide symbol for get fucked, and waltz right back to the cliffs. Your shoulders feeling lighter, your burden moved. You would not be hunted this night.

He knew….and the ball was in his court.

As Fate would have it, John just happened to be on the ranch that night. He saw the Deputy the  moment a delicate hand grasped the cliff's edge. Little known fact, the first thing he had done when he bought this ranch was to make sure security cameras were installed to cover every single angle of his ranch. At the time it was expensive, but he knew he would not regret it and as he sat back in his chair, the black leather creaking slightly with his shifting weight, he basked in his foresight. On the screen the slender fingers flexed as a head of dark hair came into view. John did not consciously acknowledge how his breath hitched in anticipation nor did he stop to consider how he recognized Rook from something as small as that hand.

Cerulean eyes narrowed under dark brows absorbing every single muscle flex, every minute facial tick.

“Oh what do we have here Dep-ut-yyyy.. Tsk, tsk.. You can do so much better than this pitiful attempt at assassination.”  He leaned forward slowly, tapping the figure on the screen with a long, well manicured finger. “Frankly my dear, I am offended.”

Rook was crouching now, and John watched in amusement as the quick progression to the edge of the trees came to an abrupt halt. Time to debate that next move.

“Well, you certainly have my attention and curiosity…” eyes never leaving the screen, his hand closes around his radio. Switching to his personal security channel, his next order was very deliberate, “Call off all patrols for the next hour.”

A brief crackle of static, “Yes sir John sir.”

He smirked, they knew better than to question him and damned if they would defy him. He may lack Jacob’s military training, but he could command a flock through fear and charm.

“What are you up to my sinful Wrath?”

It was then he spotted a thick, square package being untied from the black leather belt slung snugly across the deputy’s hips.

“Explosives? How utterly mundane.” disappointment dripped from his words.

He watched as there was a sudden shift in the Deputy’s posture. From a crouching and tensely coiled machine arose a self-confident silhouette. No longer were the steps hurried, quiet, and cautious. In place was an arrogant stride, each step measured and calculated, and the demeanor focused on the goal ahead. Never once did eyes dart to look to the sides or behind. It was then he knew…

His... no, no, no…  THE Deputy knew he was watching.

A shiver danced up the base of his spine, eyes narrowing. A devilish smile curved his lips bringing a sudden softness to his usually intense face.

“My, my aren’t we the brave one? All alone with no sign of Nick or Sharky? An unapproved outing perhaps? Ahhh, secrets upon lies upon secrets. Your sins seem to know no bounds.”

Rook had reached the door after a quick climb up the two back steps. John braced his forearm along the desk and leaned in so close that the screen almost grazed his nose. He should have been focusing on the package, but his eyes would not leave Rook’s face.

“Show me your sin… show  me your wrath,” he whispers, almost begging.

In a surprising move, the Deputy falls to one knee and looks directly at the camera, eyes amused even through the technological barrier. Lips are pursed in a small smile, mocking and almost taunting him. The mic kicked on and he heard every single word that pretty little throat uttered.

“An offering to the god Maximon.” a soft intake of breath and … was that a fucking laugh?! “Google it John.”

The use of his name scattered any logical thought processes he may have had. Never before had Rook uttered it, not when tied to his chair, not when baptised.. The sound of it from those lips and in that voice was alarming. Equal parts dreadful and pleasing.

The package, which he had forgotten in his astonishment, was placed gently upon the deck and with a small pause, the Deputy looked back up at the camera and winked. His internal confusion mounted until, standing, he got the one finger salute. John barely caught the guffaw that was trying to escape his throat so what ended up coming out was a strained grunt.

“Ahhhh, and there it is mixed with a bit of arrogance.”

Did the Deputy think him a complete simpleton? He was an educated man. He damn well knew the legend behind the Mayan God Maximon. Obviously Rook was trying to draw some rather dramatic comparisons. John chuckled. Oh dear… Was it the sunglasses? My, how he enjoyed that little reference.

Watching the retreating form closely, John sat on the edge of his chair  until the deputy’s head disappeared down the cliff. Once gone from the screen and his property, John finally stood to his full height of 5’10”. Running an unsteady hand through his hair, he made a quick grab for the radio before turning to descend to the back door.

Who was he to shun any offerings left by his admirers?

Cracking the door he peeked down at the package. Nothing was blinking or ticking.. He reached to his side, grabbed a conveniently placed broom and poked it. Surprisingly the package gave way with the brown paper ripping slightly.

Cloth?!

“What do you have up your sleeve?”

Pushing the broom back behind him, John stepped out onto the stoop and picked up the parcel. From what he could see inside the hole it looked like some clothing perhaps? Was the Deputy affronted by his fashion sense? Pft. He was damn meticulous about his choice of clothes, he was the face of Eden’s Gate after all. This look went over well for the most part.

He began to pluck at the gauze tying the parcel closed when a small blue button caught his eye. It was securely fastened to the middle of the package demanding to be noticed and there was absolutely no need for an explanation. John immediately knew what it was. Memories of the moment that he had Rook tied to his chair, the room encased in harsh red light.... He had leaned down, his mouth saying how he wished he had more to say yes to...ripping open that blue button down shirt… buttons scattered, flesh visible to his feasting eyes, sponge cleaning the fevered skin, his eyes demanding of those before him, commanding obedience yet hoping for rebellion.. Oh he knew this little button well.

His fingers closed into a fist around the small bit of plastic, tightening his grip until its form bit into the soft flesh of his palm. He shook his head to bring him back to the present before pocketing the button. Ripping the remaining paper away, John flicked out the cloth within and studied it briefly before throwing his head back and laughing.

It was a quilt… a quilt with blue planes and clouds in squares around the outskirts, and a red and blue plane circling each other in the center. It was obviously made with a child in mind, but John was oddly pleased. Sure the quilt was juvenile, but it told him quite a lot. The Deputy had somehow noted his admiration for planes in the only way possible: by the pattern on the coat he had only worn once when they first laid eyes on one another. It seemed a lifetime ago, that moment where it all began. The fact that those observant eyes had paid special attention to him, that Rook felt the need to gift this to him… spoke of something more than wrath.

He smirked, picking up the trash and tossing the quilt over his forearm to carry inside. This quilt was sure to be an interesting piece, and hell he might even display it in a mocking way amongst his Eden’s Gate symbols and books. For the moment he tossed the quilt over the dining room table, ignoring the blinking message light on his answering machine.

Was the Deputy coming around? Doubtful, but possible.

He made a quick detour through his kitchen and into his garage where there was a toolbox with exactly what he needed. On autopilot he rummaged through the necessary drawers, pushing aside bits of metal until he located the needle nose pliers and jump rings.

Striding back into the dining room John pulled a chair out in a quick gesture. Sitting thoughtfully, eyes glazed in contemplation, he was unaware as his hand toyed with the leather thong around his neck. A quick blink and he pulled up, ducking absently as it slipped from around his neck. What he was doing, he would not fully comprehend in the moment, but it was something he desperately needed. That tiny piece of plastic burned his thigh where it rested, heavy with meaning. Tugging it from where it lay hidden, deft fingers attached the weighty piece of blue behind his bunker key.

This was.. His? John brought the leather up to his neck, and after a brief debate slipped it back over his head. The weight from the key caused the leather to fall silently back into place, its familiar shape coming to a rest against his bare chest. Where there should have been the cool bite of metal, instead burned the heat of a secret contained in the form of a small blue button. Yes, this was his. His to carry or expose as he saw fit.

The Deputy… HIS deputy, was a weight he would shoulder, a sin he would either condone, commit, or eventually excise and cleanse. The path was not clear to him yet, but he would save Wrath even if it meant dragging them bodily into salvation: bloody, kicking, and screaming.

John chuckled as his hand closed over the handheld, the soft crackle of open airwaves loud in the silence of revelation, “Patrols will resume in an hour.”

Immediately he received his enthusiastic response: “Yes sir!”

Tonight? Well, tonight he would grant reprieve.

[qzwrites]

fakey bullshit bodyswap

did i screw myself by getting overly invested in these extremely fucked up porn ocs? yes i fucking did here’s the warnings for this story (and the end of it is the outline for the rest of the story that....i may not ever write but goddammit it has a whole fucking Arc)

#sibling incest #age difference #teacher-student relationship #sexual harassment #nsfw text

whoo

---

"Sadie," someone said, and Sadie groaned. Then she frowned to herself and opened her eyes, because something was wrong with her voice. She was in Ben's room and her arm seemed thicker and--she was standing over herself, looking worried.

"What the hell," she muttered, and touched her throat. There was more of an Adam's Apple there than she was used to. "What's going on?" she asked the person wearing her face.

"I'm Ben," said the person who looked like her. "I don't know what happened." She--he, if it was Ben--crossed his arms, winced, and adjusted his arms around the boobs he wasn't used to having. "Please tell me you are Sadie and not some other person in my body."

"No, it's me," Sadie said. "I mean, I'm Sadie." She sat up and ran her hands down the front of her chest. "Man, that's weird," she said.

"We have to call out," Ben said. "We can't go to school like this."

She looked up at him. It was so weird seeing Ben's body language on her body. Was this what twins felt like? Well, maybe sometimes, but then, they were used to it. "Why not?" she asked. "You don't know me well enough to pretend to be me?"

Ben huffed, which made his breasts heave. Was it gay or just narcissistic to be distracted by what were technically your own boobs? "Of course I can act like you," he said. "But I haven't done the AP English reading."

"Oh my god," Sadie said, rolling her eyes, "you can fake it."

"I can't fake your handwriting," Ben said. "Maybe for a signature or a short thing, but if he has us write poetry or essays, we're both screwed."

"Well," Sadie said. "So? What's anyone going to do?"

Ben frowned. "Oh," he said.

"Besides, we don't know how this happened," she said, "so we don't know how to fix it. What if it lasts more than one day?"

"Oh, god," Ben said, groaning. He said, "I'm going to get dressed."

"Do you need help with the bra?" Sadie asked.

"Ha ha," Ben said over his shoulder, and went into the hall.

Sadie shook her head. She got out of Ben's bed and walked over to his dresser. All Ben's clothes were so boring. Ugh, and she'd have to wear pants. She grabbed his tightest t-shirt and the first pair of jeans she saw that counted for the uniform. She was hunting for his deodorant when she heard her brother, in her voice, call, "Okay, I guess I do need help with the bra."

She laughed and went to her room to find her brother straining and fumbling to get the back clasped. She glanced over his shoulder and saw part of the problem. "Ben, it's not going to fit if your boobs aren't in it."

"It was!" Ben protested. "But it fell out."

Sadie laughed and reached around him to tuck it into the cup. Ben squeaked, which was hilarious. "Just hold the front in place a sec," she said.

He did so, and muttered, "Can you not just grab them like that?"

"Why not, they're my boobs." She fastened the hooks where she usually wore this bra. She noticed he'd picked the cutest bra she had.

"Well at the moment, they're connected to my nerve endings," he said. His ears were pink. "And I'm not used to them."

If he had been anyone else, she would have continued to tease him, grabbed his chest or rubbed up against his ass. "I guess that's fair," she said. "Okay, all set back here, but you're going to need to shimmy."

"What," he said, turning to face her. She demonstrated. "Why?" he asked, looking alarmed.

"Easiest way to get them where they wanna be," she said. "It looks and feels weird to let them do it on their own."

Ben grumbled and turned away from Sadie to bend over and shimmy. Man, her body had a really nice ass.

"Alright," she said, "are you good?"

"I think so," Ben said. He turned back to her. "Okay?"

"Looks good to me," she said. "Uh, also, is there any underwear I should avoid?"

Ben nodded. "Yeah, I don't wear boxers to school this semester because I have gym."

"Aw, shit," Sadie said, and bit her thumbnail. "I forgot you had gym."

"If I can fake it through AP English, you can fake it in gym," Ben said, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, but what do I do in the locker room?" Sadie asked.

Ben grimaced. "Well don't stare at anyone."

"Uh!"

"And don't make that noise," he added, pained. "It's so girly."

"Right, right," Sadie said, "repress everything, don't make eye contact, get flustered by anyone cute who speaks to me. Got it."

Ben sighed. "Please take this seriously. And don't hit on any straight guys. I don't want you getting beat up."

"I wasn't going to hit on anyone," Sadie said. "I don't want to get laid in my brother's body, that's weird."

"Good," Ben said. "Hold onto that feeling. Now go get dressed."

And that left Sadie facing something she hadn't seen in nine years: her brother's dick. Her alarm--well, Ben's alarm--went off while she had all her clothes off. Walking across the room naked to turn it off was a little different, but not bad. She probably had it better than Ben when it came to walking around naked.

She thought about not looking, about just putting clothes on and going about her day, but like...all her willpower was accounted for, and she didn't have any left over for not ogling the body she was in. The fact she was already awake meant she had a little extra time, so she went over to the full-length mirror to do some perfectly harmless and private ogling.

She ran a hand through what was currently her chest hair and sighed. She made a face in the mirror at herself. God, this was so weird. Ben would look great in her usual makeup, though. They really had very similar features.

She realized she'd been absent-mindedly rubbing her crotch again, which was fine when she had genitals that didn't show through clothes. Now she had a chubby and had to live with it. Cis men complained about all the wrong things.

Ben pounded on her door and she jumped. He called, "I'm going to start cooking breakfast!"

"Okay!" she called back. Well, that worked well enough. Clearly Ben hadn't wasted any time ogling. His loss, her body was excellent.

She dressed and went out to the kitchen. Ben made scrambled eggs and sausage. Sadie fixed them coffee. Over breakfast, they talked about the classwork they didn't share and made plans on dealing with it.

"Oh shit," Sadie said while they were washing up. Ben glanced at her inquisitively. "I'm supposed to start my period this week," she said. Ben blanched. "Yeah," Sadie said. "So do you want a crash course on using the cup, or should I dig out some tampons?"

"Can't tampons, like, kill you?" Ben asked.

Sadie shrugged. "Only if they're not sterile or you leave them in too long," she said. "It's just that the cup has kind of a learning curve. You end up basically fisting yourself to get it out."

Ben looked ill. "Can we just hope we change back before it?"

"You'll be really screwed if you're not prepared," Sadie said. "I don't need you bleeding in all my clothes."

"Ugh," Ben said. "Tampons for now," he said, "the cup thing tonight?"

Sadie shrugged. "It's your period," she said, and Ben groaned.

Walking to the train station, Sadie said, "You do a very good me."

Ben sniffed, then looked over at her and grinned, a perfect Sadie grin. "We're outside, Ben," he said. Sadie rolled her eyes.

First period went fine. Luckily they knew each other's schedules, but it still took her a second to turn the right way to head to gym.

Gym was...rough. Finn commented on how "off" Ben was, and all Sadie could do was shrug, because they hadn't talked about telling anyone else. It felt really weird and uncomfortable to lie to Finn, who knew everything else about them.

In the hall on the way to Ben's next class, Dan asked why she had Sadie's phone, and Sadie made up a story about screwing up their data plan and switching. She texted it to Ben so they wouldn't contradict each other.

Lunch was actually great, because she had Gloria and Finn and Jordan all there. It was a little hard to keep up the Ben act, but he acted a lot like her when they were in a group.

In Chem, she got to see him. She walked over to her table to ask, "How are you doing?"

He shrugged one shoulder, a very Ben gesture. "Weird, but okay," he said. He lowered his voice, "I don't like the way Mr. Travis looks at me like this, though."

"Like what?" she asked.

He shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. "I don't know, it's just...different."

Chem was weird, because Sadie didn't know Ben's lab partner Celina very well. Then English was weird too, because they wrote practice essays. Mr. Travis stopped to give her a quirked eyebrow, but didn't otherwise comment on the "wrong" handwriting. The rest of the afternoon's classes went smoothly enough, though someone did ask why she was so fidgety. She wasn't used to pants anymore, having not worn them for years, and they were weird, especially with the new external genitals. But Ben hadn't worn a skirt since they were little and dressing up like each other, so it wasn't like she could even make an issue about the uniform policy's sexism.

The train ride home was weird, because someone got creepy and too close to Ben-in-Sadie's-body, and Sadie froze before she realized she was supposed to be Ben, and as far as anyone looking could tell, she was a guy. She yelled at him and he backed off, then she pulled Ben closer and asked how he was.

Red in the face, more like him and less like her pinking of the cheeks, he muttered, "Your body is stupid."

"Shit, did he touch you?" she asked.

"No, but it's all I could think about," he said. He pressed his forehead against her shoulder. "God, I'm so sorry."

She patted him. "It's okay, you get it now."

On the walk home, he complained that the breeze made him feel like he was flashing everyone. "And everything like, rubs together."

"Well, that's why you wear cute panties," she told him. "And I don't want to hear about rubbing when I'm wearing pants for you."

He rolled his eyes, and this time, it looked like him.

"Oh, hey," Sadie said. "Do you mind if we tell Finn?"

"Why?" Ben asked.

"I feel weird not telling him," Sadie said. "Like, we've never lied to him before."

He hummed thoughtfully. "I don't want him to think we're crazy," he said. "He won't believe us."

"He'd believe anything we told him," Sadie said. "Come on. What are you worried about?"

He was silent for a while, but had a look on his face Sadie recognized, so she let him think. "What if he knows," he said, "and he still treats us different?"

"You're worried he's sexist?" Sadie said.

"No! Ugh, I don't know," Ben said. He looked down at the sidewalk. "Never mind."

Sadie smiled. "I see how it is," she said. She nudged him with her elbow. "You're worried because of your crush on him."

He turned bright red. It was weirdly less satisfying to make him blush while he had her face. It wasn't that her face wasn't cute when it was all pink, it was just...different. "Excuse me if I don't want to see him with me but only when it's you."

Sadie scoffed. "Like that's going to happen," she said. "He's not even into me like that."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid," he said, "of course he is."

She frowned. "He's never said anything," she said.

"Did he say anything to Connie?" Ben asked. "He probably figures you'd say something."

"I did!" Sadie said. "God, I spent like, all of freshman year hitting on him!"

"Yeah, he didn't notice," Ben said. They turned onto their street. "You were still a little cagey freshman year."

"Well you could have said some--" Sadie snapped her mouth shut. "Anyway," she went on as if she hadn't said anything, "I don't know why you think he wouldn't be interested in you."

Ben rolled his eyes. "He's straight."

"Is he?" Sadie asked. "He's never said."

"'Never saying' means they're straight, Sa--surely," Ben said, because they were still outside and potentially could be overheard.

"Really," Sadie said, drily. "And have you ever said?"

Ben did have the good grace to blush at that. "That's different," he muttered.

"Is it," Sadie said. "Because for all we know, Finn thinks you're straight and that's why he's never made a move."

"Come on," Ben said. "There's no way he doesn't know I'm bi."

"He didn't realize I was hitting on him," Sadie said. "I love him, but he is really oblivious sometimes."

"I guess," Ben muttered. They reached their front yard, and he reached for his keys. Of course, he wasn't wearing his own pants or carrying his own keys in his pocket, so all he really did was slap his thigh. "Ugh," he said.

"I got it," Sadie said. Of course, then she had to fiddle with Ben's janky, poorly-cut key. Ben sighed deeply, a very good version of Sadie's own sarcastic overblown sigh.

Once inside, they traded bags so they had the right homework, and had a more or less normal evening.

Mr. Travis keeps Ben (in Sadie's body) after class

Ben actually tells him about the swap

fucks him anyway

tells Sadie about fucking Mr. Travis

she is astonished at his doctrine

also his hypocrisy how can he tell MR. TRAVIS and not want to tell FINN

he agrees it is only fair to let her fuck Mr. Travis too, if he will, which, Ben thinks, he definitely will

here is also when he talks about fucking Dan that one time, and probably also when Sadie calls him a penetration slut

I think also Sadie's hard for like. Half this conversation. She keeps complaining about it. Ben makes fun of her for having no self control

Sadie (in Ben's body) talks to Mr. Travis about fucking her, he agrees to stay after school for her

Sadie tells Ben about this and Ben decides to wait because they are playing with fucking fire tbh

Sadie and Mr. Travis actually spend a long time talking instead of fucking because they are jokes

They talk a lot about Ben bc see above

anyway they do have sex and Sadie is way too loud and she apologizes for being so sensitive and he's like Well I never thought I'd get to be one of your firsts so like. I'm good.

they talk afterward and Mr. Travis sort of. admits he's in love with Sadie

Mr. Travis also kind of knows Ben and Sadie are in love oops

Sadie actually brings up dating him but like. They can't keep doing this. And she reminds him how long it is until graduation

they're making out when Ben bangs on the door

Mr. Travis is mostly clothed, so he throws on more clothes and opens the door. ben barges in and locks the door behind him and tells them the custodian is on the way are you fucking done yet

he gets to "I told you so" sadie

Sadie tells him about maybe sort of agreeing to date Mr. Travis when they graduate

He gets Weird and Sad

when they get home Finn is already there bc they've been acting weird

Sadie blurts that bodyswap shit right out

also she drops the "we both fucked the same teacher" bomb

Finn is like a: omg b: oh thank god it's not me, you aren't avoiding me

I sort of forgot this part but Finn offers to date Ben so BEN doesn't feel left out, and Ben runs away bc it's overwhelming

sadie posits he's pms-ing. finn posits they (sadie and ben) need to like. Talk about Their Thing

Sadie goes and talks to ben and admits the whole thing and apologizes for always hurting him, she doesn't mean to but it's all she can do

they wind up crying and kissing and apologizing and kissing

finn comes in to check on them and is like Oh Good, but now HE looks sad

sadie nudges ben and ben tells finn he would really like to date him and finn asks if it's weird to date sadie too if they're cool

they're cool

so they have a big cuddle/makeout pile

which culminates in Sadie (still in Ben's body) and Finn double penetrating Ben (still in Sadie's body)

finn texts his parents that he's staying over and driving ben and sadie to school in the morning

nice cuddly sleepy times in ben's bed

they set the wrong alarms and wake up late after snoozing too many times

ben and sadie rush to dress but the clothes don't fit right

surprise they've swapped back

more crying and kissing and then going to school

THAT'S IT THAT'S THE ARC

but addendum: sadie lets mr. travis know they're back to normal and ben and sadie and finn spend some goddamn TIME making eyes and flirting at/with him

i think finn flirts the way i do: by talking about why he loves people and asking mr. travis why he loves sadie

i also envisioned that story hapening in the rain, with finn walking mr. travis to the car

[reginaldbunyan]

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[blackevermore]

x Wade In The Water

{ Chapter 2: Order My Steps}

Summary: Estar Scott was once in love. She thought the days of her shortcomings were over and that the man she found was her one and only. But all that was taken away when the demons she had became too accustomed to finally took the one thing she had left. Louisiana was her home but the devil down below was calling her name. She only has herself to blame when it came to the hands dragging her under.

Notes: It’s Hazbin Hotel, be ready for everything. Also I apologize for all my mistakes in advance!

Word Count: 3,806

Life isn't short, nor is it long; it's what you make it out to be. Had I known before that love would be the reason I ended up here, I would have cut out my heart a long time ago. Yet, had I known you would be here as well I would have killed myself. My story isn't meant to show pity on myself nor is it meant to be an example of human nature. My story is my own and it's my right to tell you of it.

-Ester R. Scott

They’re standing outside the shop again watching me as they always do. As they always have for since I was a child. I've learned that the shadows that stalked me weren't demons; they were angels, scary looking angels with many eyes and skinny features. They didn't do much except tilt their heads every so often when I acknowledge them. They weren't always around physically but they did leave hints that I was always on their watch list. Like a criminal that hadn't done anything. Like a negro trying to walk down the street to the store without causing any trouble. They watched me day in and day out even when I was at home. When mama finally told me that they were angels, I cried and told her no angel would look so scary. And she said to me that angel's forms came in many different ways. But for me to see them as they truly were was a gift from God themselves. I was a special person who had to have a mission from God and it was my duty to find out what it was.

I didn't want a mission from God, and I didn't want to see the angels or anyone the looked remotely similar. Angels were supposed to come to you and say they mean no harm. Every angel I met never spoke to me nor took the liberty not to scare me with their long and gangly appearance. The back of the shop was where I was stationed and meant to stay until it was time for me to clock out. But every so often when an order from a mistress came in, I was entrusted to receive it, and that's when I would see the angels.

"Ester, what are you starring at, you're supposed to be finishing up Madam Luxsher's gown." I spin around on my heels and came face to face with my boss. Mrs.Birdy is an old white woman three inches shorter than me with ratty white hair. The years of working as a seamstress rivered on her face and hands. She is wise and knowledgeable about everything that has to do with clothes. If it weren't for her kindness and taking me in after mama died and teaching me, I would be poor and hungry. Or worse died.

"I thought I saw someone come in but when I came up front there was no one." I lied, but it was best to do so than to tell her what I actually saw.

"Must be those damn kids running up and down the street. Come on now, get back to work, Madam Luxsher will be here by four to get her gown."

"Yes, ma'am." I bow my head and hurry back to my workspace that was indeed in the very back of the shop. You see I was black and it wasn't easy finding work as good as this. Not unless you moved up north to get away from the racism and all the spit that was shot at your clothes or feet. Mrs.Birdy was a friend of mama's and when she heard the news she told me there was always work for me as long as I followed her rules. And follow them I would if it meant I could keep the house and survive. 

My family, besides me and mama, took the first chance they got to move to the north for a chance at a new life. Me and mama only stayed because fear got the best of us and we knew nothing about the north other than some of our brothers and sisters had already been free. So when mama died of a shortcoming of some illness when I was eighteen, I was left alone with nothing but a high school education that meant nothing to the white folks down here. I had to bury mama myself in our backyard under the large apple tree. With every shovel of dirt and tears from my face, I promised I would dig her back up and place her in a better place when I got the money. I promised that I would take the tree as well and make sure she would have the best shade when the sun got too hot. I sang her the best songs I knew from church and kissed the ground before going back inside to ready for bed. I used to tell myself mama sent more angels down when she got to the gate and that was the reason they watched me. Mama wanted to make sure I was safe in this cruel world and I was grateful for only so long.

I grabbed the scissors off the bench and went back to work cutting off the extra fabric that was bunched up to make bows. I could hear the scuffling from the other women around me as they talked about me. There was five of us who worked for Mrs.Birdy and I was the only black girl there. Two older girls never had anything nice to say about me, sometimes they would steal my tools to make work harder, but it never did. I would show them up with the determination to finish, and once I did, they would stomp there feet and turn away. I made the best dresses and Mrs Birdy knew it. She had only trained me for three months and I was her favourite. One girl who was around my age adored me, she always greeted me every time she came in and said goodbye every time she left. For a while, she wasn't sure if she was allowed to talk to me because her father never said anything good about blacks. But it became her warm little secret to ask me for help with an order or even to ask my opinion on another. Her name was Chemintine as she was cute and bubbly as one could be. Her dream was to make the best dress she could make and become a world class seamstress to a royal family. I told her she just wanted to be a mistress and she didn't deny it.

This gown, however, by the grace of God, couldn't be tampered with by the others. It was a rather important gown that held the life of Mrs Birdy and the shop in its treads. It was a beautiful shade of off colour white, bejewelled and layered in gold gems that swirled around the bust and down the middle. It stopped mid-calf in perfectly cut triangles around the perimeter. The fabric around the shoulder was something new I wanted to try, they were thin and long and flowed behind the wearer. Next to the dress was a matching headdress and cape that went on for yards of fabric. I was tasked with making Mrs Luxsher's Mardi Gras queen attire. I felt honoured but I also felt that Mrs Birdy had lost her little white mind. The other girls were so upset with having such a big project being handed to me. Chemintine was overly excited and congratulated me for days. I worked days on the design and studying the dresses from years before to find a new queen. I didn't want the dress to be something everyone had seen before. It had to be something someone would look at and wonder who made it and when they found out a black woman made it, I wanted them to gasp and be baffled. I wanted history books of New Orleans to call me the master behind the 1930 Mardi Gras gown. But who was I to think I would be given acknowledgement. Surely if anyone asked who made it Mrs Birdy's name would be given and I would be nothing more than the secret in the back of the shop. But still, in my mind, I was being praised and I had proven that my craft was beautiful.

"My lord ma chérie, this is beautiful, you've outdone yourself once again." Mrs Birdy came from around the mannequin holding the ends of the gown in her hands to study the stitching. She pulled her microscope from her apron for a better look and she tsked. I felt my heart stop, she only tsked when something was wrong. I stood as still as I could as she finished examing my work.  She shoved the scope back into her pocket then turned towards me with her hands on her hips.

"I swear you're gonna put me out of business when people find out it's you with all this beautiful decorative stitching." A smile fluttered over her face and she pulled me into a hug and patted my back. The tension in my body dropped and I was overly relieved. I should have known better there wasn't anything wrong with my work. But still I was always fearful that one day that kindness Mrs Birdy had for my mother and I would leave.

"You have a gift Ester," The old woman pulled away and set to work putting the gown in a box. I told her not to worry, that I would do it, but she swatted my hand away and went back to doing it herself. "I still believe you should move north with your family and join them in their Harlem madness."

"I couldn't leave you here." I told her with a sweet smile but she shook her head.

"You don't need me, child. You don't want to leave your mama and that house. But you're too old now to be staying where you are. You have money and you have clothes, you need to leave New Orleans one day."

"But Louisiana is my home."

"Louisiana was your home but now it is your prison. No matter where you go you can always come home." Mrs Birdy finished wrapping the gown in it's paper and placed it in its box before topping it off with a ribbon bow. I was about to try and protest my need to stay here but the bell from the door in front sounded. The other girls didn't move from where they were so Mrs Birdy shooed me off to go see who it was. I pushed through the curtain to the counter with a clipboard in hand. I was too busy writing down the date to notice the person at the counter wasn't even facing me.

When I looked up I was greeted with a board back and smoothly combed brown hair that swirled at the ends. Dark brown gloved hands played with a golden coin then stopped. The man's head started to turn to the side slowly and I held my breath as I caught his beautiful hazel eyes behind round framed glasses. When he fully turned around, I thought I would fall over from how gorgeous he was. His skin was tan and his features sharp like a diamond. His brows were arched as if he had a continuous question and his eyes were hooded. He stood a lot taller than me even in my heels which made me have to hold my head back to look at him. He wore a smile that seemed made of mischief than genuine. I could smell him from where I stood and he smelled like freshwater and flowers. I could nearly picture the countryside and all its wildflowers dancing in the wind. He didn't have to speak for me to know he was raised in a different part of town. He didn't have to tell me either that he was the son of either a black mother or father, but since he was so light no one knew the wiser and he was nothing more than a white man with a tan. How lucky was he.

"H-How many I help you, sir?" I had to clear my throat a few times before the words could come out. 

"Ah yes, my dear are you open for a commission? I have a very important date in a couple of weeks, and I will be needing a suit tailored by only the best." His accent was different than anything I had ever heard before, like a man from a big city and an even bigger personality. Like the men on the radio I heard every so often when Mrs Birdy insisted listening to night time stories. I didn't mean to knot my brows when he spoke, but when he got closer and leaned over the counter a bit, I knew he noticed. He brought a hand up to his mouth and cleared his throat before speaking again.

"I do apologize, my dear, I always tell myself that when I'm home I should switch my dialect. I hope this would be something more familiar for you." He bowed his head then looked back up at me with an even wider smile. My eyes went wide. He knew I could tell what he wasn't. The smoothness of his Yat-New Orleane's accent sent vibration in my stomach. I'd never had this happen, I've always seen the finest men around town. But this man in front of me was intimating, beautifully devilish and he knew.

"What can I make for ya?" I held up the clipboard and rose my brows for him to continue.

He nodded and began, "I need a fitted cotton three piece wine red dame with peaks lapels and no more than two pockets with black buttons. Of course, the jacket should be cut with tails. If it ain't much trouble withcha could you make the vest brown, stitched with red and lined on the inside as well. " He spoke like he was describing the best Louisiana cake in the world and I hurried to write everything down. I placed the clipboard down then reached under the counter for the rotary card file that held all our client's information—name, address in case they wanted their attire delivered, and of course measurements. As I was about to ask his name he held up a hand and shook his head.

"I'm a new client." I nodded and put the filer away then pulled out a new card to write his information down. 

"Name, sir."

"Alastor H."

"Address?"

"Don't worry about that I'll come to get it."

"Alright well, I'll be needing to measure you if you don't mind." I placed the card down then reached for the measuring tape. I motioned for him towards the side of the counter where a three door mirror stood and a small platform. When I got around the counter, I had to hold my breath from gasping at how thin and long the man was. He didn't look breakable but he didn't look like he could carry more than his weight all at once. He stood proudly on the platform, checking his hair and fixing his waistcoat. He caught my eyes and I bowed my head and hurried over. I set to work measuring the length of his arms and his torso, then the width his chest and waist. Under my breath, I recited the numbers over and over so I wouldn't forget them. I could hold up to ten numbers in my head, a trick I learn from my mama when it came to cooking. Some would say it was just good memory but I was sure it was a talent that not many people could do unless they were big brain university kid. I got to his legs and I swore they went on for miles and miles. He was 6'3 when I ran the number through my head again but with the shoes he wore he was 6'5. I could only imagine how the women must have swoon when he walked into a room as handsome as he was. I could also imagine how much of a player he must have been in the court, rich and desperate women must have cluttered his time when he was invited to parties—running his ear off with many things that didn't impress him. Or maybe they did, and that's how he could get one or perhaps even two of those socialites into his bed. 

I had to stop myself.

Why was I trying to put together this man's life by nothing more than his physique?

I hurry and finish with his numbers then go back to the counter to write everything down. He doesn't move off the platform until he reties his bowtie and looks himself over once more. I can't help but stare as he does so, he was majestic, especially with an order like this.

"I hope you don't mind-"

"I do." He cut me short before I could get my question out. He steps down and smooths his hair back and adjusts his glasses. I pressed my lips tight and bowed my head not wanting to look up. Sure he didn't have to tell me anything but he didn't have to cut me off. Then like a one sided joke, he began to chuckle.

"Don't look so down. It's best not to meddle in people's affairs unless they tell you, don't you think." He held his chest as he calmed down then like before crossed his arms behind his back.

"A man that wears red after Mari Gras is a man that raises suspension." I could see my mama now ready to snatch me up for being so sharp on the tongue. But the man found it amusing as he cocked an eyebrow.

"Well what is a woman who wears red?" He leaned in close over the counter and I gulped and moved back a bit to put space between us.

"A woman is just a woman, she only because suspicious when she starts making deals with the jazzmen." That must have put him in a good mood because the response I got was a big one. He held his face as he laughs then shook it when he just about had enough. I feel uneasy with his giggly demeanour. His unbroken smile stayed plastered the whole time and his bright hooded eyes seem more and more mysterious.

"How long will this be?" He finally asks.

"About two days if someone starts today, sir." I tell him, I think about whether or not we have the colour fabric he wants and if I had to go out into town to get it.

"How long did it take you to make Jeremiah Peakins suit?"

"Pardon?" His question threw me off and I snap my gaze up to his.

"The stitching on it was to die for and he told me it was his all time favourite suit. He even told me who to look for when I came in. And weren't I just as lucky to find you, Miss Ester." When he said my name, I thought I would stop breathing, he said it low and with ounces of suave. I became choked up as I tried to remember who he was asking about and what suit I made. Then it came to me, I had made a suit last week that was green and blue that I ran out of black thread for so I finished it in gold. When Peakins came in to get it he was so amazed he asked Mrs Birdy to bring out who made it. When he saw me he greeted me warmly and shook my hand and told me how lovely it was to wear something I made. He even gave me a tip that made me stumble back and lean on the counter. I never held a whole hundred dollars before and now that I had it I had to hide it. I wanted to cry but Peakins told me not to worry about little money when he surely would come back again. 

"Well?" The man snapped me out of my thoughts and I stammered around trying to think.

"It took me three days because I had to get a different thread when I ran out of black. But we should have everything for me to make your suit, so still two days." The man nodded his head and leaned back into his own space.

"That sounds wonderful," He spun on his feet and started towards the door. "I'll be returning in two days my dear ready to see what masterpiece you'll put together." Just as he opened the door and the bell rung he looked up then back towards me. "Remember to smile, dear, you're never fully dressed without one." And with that he was out the door and down the street. I don't know how long I stared at the door replaying his words in my head. He truly was a mysterious figure, but if he was a friend of Peakins then he should be of great business. 

The angels weren't standing outside anymore now that I thought about it. The shop windows were clear with no sight of them across the street or standing by. Just then a man in an all white suit and top hat began to walk past the windows. He stopped when he got at the door and pulled out a pocket watch. He checked it then placed it back into his pocket before turning his head to me and smiled. I gasped as memories from when I was a child rushed to the front of my mind. I knew that man, I knew his abnormal pale skin and bright red cheeks. From where I stood, I could see the yellow of his eyes and still how sharp his teeth were.

It was the devil.

He took off his hat and bowed to me before turning back towards the way he was going and continued walking. I couldn't react with shock or fear. The devil was a pleasing sight to look at, especially with how scary the angels were. I told myself to say a scripture under my breath to ward off evil and as the words left my lips, I felt like I was choking on them. I managed to make it through, and within seconds, the angels had come back into my sight. But now they didn't look towards the shop or even at me, their heads were turned towards where the devil had gone.

[aquaeques]

yuanfen ; dor

War: a state of armed conflict between different nations or states or planets.

The definition was easy to understand. In theory, it was easy to discuss & create plans, contingencies. In reality, it was bloody & exhausting & full of pointless slaughter. It was made of pain and heartbreak and tension, betrayal and tested loyalties and Prince Allonzen wanted nothing more than the peace that once inhabited their system; before the Rift, before Daibazaal’s destruction --- and before this entire confusing war with Zarkon of all people.

Zarkon, who rose from the dead and rallied his people to his cause, once allies turned to enemies and the Altean people, who once viewed the Galra as family now turn their distrustful, hateful and confused gazes toward the one Galra who did not betray them.

Al’zen stormed through the castle halls, mere dobashes after the last ship left in order to send reinforcements to another planet in their system, taking Ke’itt away with it. He had only returned from another planet not even a varga ago and already he’s being shipped out again. On the KING’S orders. Just the mere thought of Ke’itt going to fight again without proper rest caused his heart to beat faster still, a constant thump-thump-thump against his chest, threatening to burst and overflow.

It wasn’t even solely because of the fact that his mate was going off again so soon; Ke’itt was Galra, yes, but even the Galra had their limits. Ke’itt was going to burn himself out at this rate and then what? Die for Altea? No. Al’zen refused to let that happen. Not if he could help it. 

What would HELP was if he was even allowed to join in those battles. He was a prince, yes, but that did not allow him any special treatment. Why should he be safe in the castleship while many of their people, their allies, be out there fighting? It made sense for King Alfor and Princess Allura to stay behind, for they actually had jobs to do: piloting the castle, ordering troops --- Allonzen? He had nothing. There was absolutely no point in him staying behind. 

( no, he knew the reason why. it was the same reason why every time he closed his eyes he saw his mother’s impaled body, his younger siblings clinging to her even in death. it was the same reason why every time he blinked, he saw the charred remains of his elder siblings, slain along with their armies. it was the same reason he heard his father’s last words, uttered & pained, before eleri’droz was destroyed with him still planetside. the last of altea’s royal family was stationed on the castleship & it was obvious alfor intended to keep it that way ------ al’zen wasn’t having it. ) 

         “Uncle!” Finally catching sight of the king, Al’zen spend forward, adamant on being heard, refusing to once more be brushed aside. Not if it meant another fight in which Ke’itt is there barely standing. “Uncle, I need to talk to you.” 

         “What is it, nephew? Can it wait?” 

         “No, it can’t.” 

Alfor raised a brow, seemingly studying him for a moment before nodding, silently allowing Allonzen to speak. What started out as soft, murmured conversation slowly but surely grew in volume, Alfor in confusion and resolute affirmation, and Al’zen in growing frustration and desperation, a need for understanding, for release. Their voices grew louder still, filling with more frustration than anything else, as their conversation geared toward a single Galran soldier still amongst Altean ranks. A soldier-guard that should have continued to remain by Allonzen’s side yet was sent out again and again and again.

          “Just because he’s Galra doesn’t mean ---”

          “It is because he is Galra!”

Silence. His shock permeated the room, mouth gaping, mind unable to grasp and comprehend the audacity that just spilled from the king’s lips. And when it finally did, the shock fell away to irritation, anger, a flare of protective instinct swelling and threatening to spill with all the arduous spite that had been contuiously building for phoebes. 

It didn’t matter if it was the king who uttered such words, didn’t matter if it was family; it mattered not who spoke of such ill will of his mieli ------ how dare they?

            “That’s not funny, Uncle.”

Cold was his voice, devoid of the usual warmth and vibrancy that managed to retain itself even amidst this destruction. For him to lose it now, in the safety of the castle, speaking with the King of all people --- Alfor clearly didn’t understand, brows furrowing as he, once more, was reminded that his dear nephew was more than what he portrayed himself to be.

            “Allonzen---”

            “Are you seriously so---”

            “Our enemies are Galra. Ke’itt is Galra. Our forces know very well how to fight them, but just the same they know how to fight against us. Galra are, inherently, stronger than most of our warriors. Ke’itt knows their prowess, their abilities and techniques, far more than we ever could, and even moreso, he can match them. He is most valuable to us on the front lines.”

             “He is a single Galra against the entire race! You’re going to get him killed! You’re sending him to his death every time he steps out of the castle! You’re running him ragged; he hasn’t slept or rested properly in several movements! You’re killing him!”

             “For the last time, Al---”

             “He is my mieli!”

It was Alfor’s turn to be stunned into silence, allowing his nephew to continue onward without interruption, Al’zen’s blue-gold irises nearly glowing in his ire.

             “He is my mieli,” Al’zen repeated, stance tall and proud and without hesitation, no ounce, no trace, of doubt. “And I his kradnia. Do you know the reason he’s so willing to go out there and take on entire fleets on his own without complaint? Even though he’s exhausted in every single way? It isn’t because he’s Galra or because he’s so great a warrior to come out of those battles unscathed or even because of his loyalty to Altea. He goes because he is protecting his kradnia. His loyalty is to ME, not solely to you or to Altea alone. To me.

              “So don’t you DARE think I am merely overreacting; that I am throwing a tantrum because my guard isn’t by my side. Don’t you dare think I am reacting by some misplaced sense of pride or honor or glory. I want Ke’itt safe; I want Altea and our people and our system safe, just as you and everyone else does. I am no use locked away in the castle while everyone else is fighting.

             “So continue to keep me here, Your Majesty, if you wish. But eventually I will find myself beside my mieli, my kradnia, whether that be on the front lines or here in the safety of the Castleship.”

It wasn’t a threat, but a simple fact.

A warning.

             “Do you think even you can separate us?”

He regretted those words the moment he was finally given reprieve the day he was released from the pods. Ten thousand years. It was --- unfathomable. Everything --- everyone --- was gone.

The prince stood in his quarters, too big, too cold, too empty.

He stood unmoving, mind a blank, until his legs could no longer support him, falling back until his back hit the wall, sliding down until the Altean was a crumpled heap on the ground.

“Ke’itt.”

                                        Ke’itt always came when he called.

“Ke’itt....”

                                               Ke’itt was always there.

“Ke’itt, please...”

                                                    Ke’itt was gone. 

“Mieli!”

An ice-cold hand encased his heart, twisting and grasping, seeping into every crevice that once housed so much warmth and care and love. It covered him in a frozen blanket, chilling him in a way that the power Blue reigned over couldn’t compare.

It was a futile effort to wrap his arms around his legs, no reprieve from the chill to be found. He bowed his head, resting them against his knees and closed his eyes, recalling every memory he could of Altea: of his family, his friends, of warm hands and dangerous claws that meant nothing but safety. He recalled golden irises and deep, rumbling laughter. He recalled whispered promises and breathy praises, hidden beneath the shadows of stars and warmth of intertwined galaxies of purples and blues and reds and gold. 

And Al’zen did not cry.

@lnstinctive

[spilled-ink-and-city-lights-blog]

Chapter One of my novel (and an extra plug for patreon)

I’ve been working on this beast, Wayward Soul, since my senior year of high school and I’m just now releasing it into the wild, forgoing traditional publishing because down with the man or something like that. I figure I’ll post the first chapter here for anyone so inclined and then a link to my patreon, in which a dollar a month will help with rent/catfood/human food/etc. 

I tossed the end of my cigarette from the open window of my truck, watched the resulting fireball skitter away before dying on the asphalt. My girlfriend wasn’t present to give me the usual spiel about my litter being eaten by squirrels or stray kittens who would then develop cancer because of my negligence. It was three in the morning and I had to be back to work in five hours. The regular night shift worker had called off with a mysterious illness that had conveniently struck on the first warm day of spring when everyone was crawling out of their houses and blinking as if they’d never seen such sun before. As for me, I was stuck in the cold damp of The Warehouse.

The Warehouse wasn’t a warehouse of anything specific, more of a hub of all things needing shipped. Every breeze that blew through the Civil War era structure set the building to sounding as if it were alive and displeased about it, with creaks and groans echoing down the oversized corridors. I didn’t believe in the rumors that The Warehouse was a hospital for soldiers in days gone by and I didn’t believe in ghosts, but there’s something about three in the morning that strips the skepticism from a man.The only good part about working graveyard was that everyone in their right mind was already home in bed, and I had the roads to myself. I was already half asleep and the fewer obstacles to crash into when I inevitably dozed, the better.

 I slipped into autopilot and my mind wandered to my bed. The radio did nothing to improve the situation; I had heard the same six songs on the local station so many times that they all blurred together into what may as well have been a lullaby. Something moved in the corner of my vision at the side of the road. I hoped that I wasn’t going to get bombarded by Bambi or his woodland friends. As soon as the thought crossed my sleep deprived brain the thing shot into the road in front of me and stopped still. and I slammed on the breaks at the same time as wrenching the steering wheel to the left, into the empty other lane. The truck skidded almost sideways across both lanes before it came to a stop with the thing standing close enough to reach out and touch the bumper. A person? I wondered what the hell a person was doing trying to play Frogger on a backroad at three in the morning. I didn’t think that there were any bars nearby to send too-drunk patrons stumbling home in the early hours. I jumped out into the darkness, the residual adrenaline telling me to beat the Hell out of the asshole that had nearly caused me to wreck. The slam of the door sounded like a gunshot in the darkness. And then I paused. 

Now that I was standing so close, I could see that it was actually he, and he was a child that came up just past my waist. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around himself, watching me with huge, shockingly green eyes that seemed to reflect the beam of the headlights as an animal’s would. He shrunk away from me as I approached, adding to the illusion that it was some sort of strange animal that sat before me in the road. Good parenting, I thought, losing a six-year-old in the middle of hillbilly backwater country. I looked around for any sign of a parent: flashlights, headlights, panicked screams. A loon wailed from beyond the line of trees, and that was all. “Better get out of the road, kid. You’re gonna get yourself killed,” I called, and his eyes locked on mine, startled and hurt. I could hear the distant roar of a car, far away but fast approaching. “Seriously, move!”The kid started crying and covered his ears. “You’re going to be roadkill here in a second!” I said, and scooped him up under the arms, ignoring his protests. 

I opened the passenger side door and tossed him in the general direction of it, jumped in myself, and reversed to swing to the shoulder of the road. He was howling, and he had compressed himself as far away from me as he could manage. I locked the doors, half scared that the kid would make another break for it and head straight back into the road. It crossed my mind how this must look to an outsider: a shaggy, pale, probably wild-eyed man with a tiny child locked in his truck with no indication of a booster seat or anything else that might place the ownership of the child in his hands. Dammit. “What am I going to do with you?” I asked. The kid was making some impossibly high, keening noise directly into my right ear. I tried to turn on the radio, hoping for some potentially soothing music to diffuse the situation, but all I got was a harsh blast of static that caused me to jump and accidentally punch the horn as I tried to turn it back off. The only CD in the six cd changer was slipknot. Soothing. At least the screaming of the music deadened the kid’s screaming a bit.

 I flipped open my crappy dinosaur age cellphone and dialed 9-1-1.The dispatcher sounded irritated. I had always thought that they went through training to be able to talk about guts and severed heads while still sounding as close to Bob Ross as humanly possible, but this guy wasn’t having it. He promised to send the cops my way and I hung up to let him get back to whatever dispatchers in rural areas do in the middle of the night when nobody is doing anything stupid to send paramedics or cops to. I turned the heat up. The kid had warn himself out with his carrying on and his eyes had begun to droop. I closed mine as well. If I was going back into work at six in the morning, not even this was going to stop me from getting some sleep first. What else was I going to do, besides stare at trees or watch the kid sleep like some kind of actual creep?

When I woke up again, the seat behind me was empty. I assumed the kid had crawled into the back, but he wasn’t there either. I found myself awake with a solid jolt of adrenaline straight to the bloodstream. He didn’t look old enough to be competent at managing door locks, so where had he gone? Surely enough, upon examination the doors were still locked locked from the inside and the keys still in the ignition. My pulse throbbed behind my eyes. I had always figured that my brain was a tad bit fried from a decade of drug use, but hallucinating small children on abandoned roads was a new one. I decided the best course of action was to take off before the cops finished their snail-paced crawl to my location and pretend that this night had never happened. 

 https://www.patreon.com/dcayton

[mopunkgypsy]

This is my story...

This is my story- this is my breakthrough.

January 20 something I found out I was going to be a mother. Something inside of me change forever and I’m so eternally grateful and I have god to thank. But let me back up a bit and just give you, about a month before that so you can truly see my progress.

It’s took me exactly seven times to leave my abusive narcissistic ex boyfriend. I always read it took that many times before you can leave an abusive relationship and I didn’t believe it because I kept going back and going back but that last time was the seventh and I have never felt more empowered than I do this time around. So for the past three and a half years I left him, I went back because he sweet talked me, i left because he hit/cheated on me, etc. but this last time was so much more different than any other time.

Around thanksgiving of 2018, he left Florida and came all the way to WV to get me to leave with him again. Of course, he told me everything I wanted to hear. That he would get off drugs, and get a job and marry me and start a family with me. And we would grow up and life basic normal lives together. And after almost five months of on again off again contact he convinced me to come with him. So I left my family and friends once again, and went with him. Now again isolated from anyone I loved, no social media allowed and most of all time to confess everything I had done during those five months apart. Interrogation time. He already was constantly asking questions, who did you fuck? Where have you been? How many times did you go out? So of course I knew I had to answer them because I knew how he was and how he would act and it was just easier to cooperate. So as I told little details here and there, he accepted them and we took it day by day. I mean, we were not together we were broken up for five months. I honestly felt like it wasn’t a concern of what I did or didn’t do while we were broken up. We were BROKEN. UP. But as time went on, (three days of being together) and him raiding my phone completely. We got into our first bad argument. Him throwing shit at me, threatening me, telling me to leave and go live on the streets.

The fight gets resolved somehow so we leave WV and go to Virginia where we stay with his cousin.

For about two weeks, everything was perfect. He was being so sweet, thoughtful, caring. Constantly telling me how beautiful I was and how bad he was ready to marry me, right then and there. We were going to get jobs and get on our feet for-real and by April we were planning on moving back to Atlanta. I quickly found a job waiting tables at an O’Charleys right down the street so I could walk there from where we were staying. After I started working, things quickly got bad again.

Right before I started work he and I got into it because some stuff came out about me hanging out with some guy when we were broken up and I didn’t tell him all of the details. So he took my phone from me and disappeared for hours. He claimed he was “writing down a bunch of questions for me to answer” to see if our relationship could make it through my lies. All while, he took my phone and popped out the SIM card and completely reformatted it to be all his. Deleted all my music, pictures, contacts- all of it. I now had no pictures of my family or friends or my pets. So I now truly didn’t have shit but him. And told me that if I tried to take it back he had a witness- his cousin would vouch for him that he gave me 300 dollars for the phone. So I was struck. I now had no phone. So now he had a phone, which he was now on constantly. On social media doing god knows what because he was very sketchy with the phone and I just had to lay there beside him, angry and used. Once I started going to work regularly, it really started to get bad.

Why? You might ask why as soon as you start working? Well it’s simple, I was around other people, normal people. Other men, normal men. And I am not an ugly and ill personality woman. People liked me- and he knew that and hated that.

Everyday I came home he interrogated me. Who’d you talk to? What’d they say? Did you flirt with people? How many guys talked to you? Do you think any of them look better than me? And of course he only asked these questions because “I am such a slut and I make him insecure”

It didn’t take long for him to start hitting me again, maybe by week three? It was over something stupid like he elbowed me because I wouldn’t scoot over in the bed and he elbowed me back and we got into a fight. He kicked me out of the bed and immediately sat on top of me with his knees on my arms and his hands free to hit me and cover my mouth. I remember this time as he had my mouth covered after he hit me a few times he was whispering in my ear fucked up stuff like, “I really don’t love you, I only use you because you always come back” “you’re so fat and uglier now” “I wish you were just dead and out of my life” “no one else can deal with your crazy ass self, only me” “if I could get away with it, I’d kill you with my bare hands”

As I lay there crying in silence and hardly breathing from him pressing his hands around my mouth and nose so tightly I just pray that god does just let him kill me so it’s all over. But he doesn’t, he lets go of my mouth and I remain silent. He slowly leans over me and whispers he didn’t mean any of that he was just angry and trying to hurt me. He picks me up and lays me in bed, he gets in beside me and puts his arms around me. He kisses my forehead and tells me to stop crying and go to sleep. So I did, but I cried myself to sleep just praying to god makes this all just go away.

Not long after that, the fights continued. He would do this thing where he would fuck with you, fuck with you, fuck with you, until you completely lose your shit and are screaming and crying and trying to run away from him. But he wouldn’t let you he’d stand in front of you and move every way you moved, grab you and push you, laugh in your face when you would scream or try to defend yourself and then he would video tape you. He’d pull out his phone and start video taping you “being crazy” so he could “show you later” it was so demeaning and it only made you more angry. Like YOU pushed me to this point and now YOU are going to act calm and video me spazzing? It was insane. I remember that night clearly. I sat in the pouring rain in the middle of December crying and just begging god to help me. But nothing, just the rain poured down harder and I felt so numb I didn’t know anything anymore.

All during this time he was constantly telling me how disgusting I was. How bad my pussy stank. How “beat up” my pussy looked from being such a whore. How bad my hair and face looked. How fat I had become. “If you’d just lose some weight, go tanning and stop being such a whore I might want to fuck you again” this was constant every time we had sex.

Then the real storm came. Some guy I had had sex with while we were broken up messaged me on Facebook and of course he responded back (because had all my social media accounts logged into his phone) I also had bought a new phone with my work money. So we got the message around the same time and all I could do was sit across the other side of the room and watch the conversation unfold. Of course he got the other guy to give all the lovely details of us having sex and that was it. Hell came that day. Two days before Christmas. He didn’t speak to me for a day, and slept in the floor. I went and got wasted that same night and we got into a bad fight. He broke my brand new back pack and brand new winter coat. And bruised my face. But not too bad, because he knew I needed to go to work. But after 14days of working straight I got work to give me Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. We were supposed to go WV to see his family for Christmas but his dope head cousin disappeared on us and left us stranded in Virginia. I spent my 2018 Christmas getting beat up. I was bruised from head to toe. He took my phone from me and because I asked for it back he threw it at a wall and busted it and then he held me down and punched me in the legs as hard as he could until I couldn’t even more anymore. I laid in bed for two days straight not knowing when he was going to start hitting me and calling me a whore again.

Right after Christmas his cousin came back and brought his baby mom. They got us all kicked out of place we were staying because she OD twice within thirty minutes so we had to go to an extended stay a couple miles down the road. Once we got there I was paying for the room every night. I was paying for the food for everyone to eat. I was the only one who had a job because his cousin got fired. And my ex never got a job like he promised. So I was doing everything. All while they did dope. I was working so we all had a place to sleep and shower.

A small incident happened at a gas station down the road he got mad at me for walking away from him and threw milk at me and was screaming at me in front of everyone at the gas station just calling me stupid. Of course people saw and told me I didn’t need to deal with that but because of him I felt like for some reason I did deserve it. It was my fault he was so angry at me because I lied about what I did when we were broken up. Is, what i said to myself over and over in my head. I felt so alone again. We decided to part ways with his cousin and go get our own hotel closer to my job so I could walk there because we couldn’t rely on his cousin for rides anymore and I couldn’t afford a taxi everyday.

So we get to a hotel closer to my job. It didn’t take but a week or two there for me to start feeling different. I had started feeling so sick. I was so sick I couldn’t get out of bed. I would feel so nauseous even moving around. And my boobs constantly were hurting. And I was having to pee all the time. And I kept sneezing and couldn’t stop. I had no idea what was going on until I thought about- I missed my period.

I came home from work one night and I had an old pregnancy test in my purse. I told my ex that I was going to take it because I missed my period. I took a deep breath and peed on the stick. It happened immediately- two little blue lines right there looking right back at me.

I was in shock. There’s no way I am pregnant. My doctor told me I couldn’t get pregnant. My boyfriend used to do steroids and always said he was sterile there’s no way. I came out of the bathroom sobbing and he took the stick from me. He was weirdly, excited? I said fuck that we are going to the store I need more tests. I got two more boxes and took all of them. And they all did the exact same thing. He immediately got on the phone. Called his friends and his mom and told them all I was pregnant. I just lay in bed, numb. Of course part of me thought, wow he will change now. We can finally have the family we wanted. He’s going to marry me. He’s going to treat me so good now. But I was so so wrong.

I thought of abortion of course but I didn’t know how far a long I was. The next day I went to the hospital for confirmation and they informed me I was about four weeks pregnant. My heart sank, I knew the baby had a heartbeat. I knew that it was too late, I couldn’t get an abortion I would feel so guilty. It didn’t take long for my ex to use this to his advantage- to get to Atlanta quicker. He used this as an excuse for us to go stay with his mom. She reluctantly agreed and I knew it was only because of me and the baby. He let me call my mom for the first time and I told her the news. She cried and begged me to be safe. I told her I would stay in contact the best I could.

We took a greyhound to Atlanta two days after I found out I was pregnant. I was so so sick. I have never been so sick. It already was starting, I was already starting to see my boyfriend for who he really was and who he had always been since I met him- an evil monster.

He didn’t care what I was going through. He didn’t care I was terrified, I was sick, I was alone all he did was taunt me. I asked him to use the last of our money to get me some crackers, he got a honey bun instead and I could eat it without throwing up. So I didn’t eat for almost 24 hours. While on the bus, he was being so so mean to me. Just talking shit and calling me names. Saying how over dramatic I was being about being pregnant and how big of a baby I was. I started crying and he just kept whispering in my ear as I cried looking out the window “cry baby cunt, cry baby cunt” just over and over and over until I couldn’t take it anymore and punched him right in the nose. He finally left me alone for the rest of the trip. For the next couple of days actually.

He had me sleeping on his moms couch, sick, in pain, alone and depressed. It didn’t take but a week for him to hit me. Over what? I don’t even remember. We had went out looking for jobs and I was still sick to my stomach. I remember that day I did my hair and make up and put on a nice outfit and he said “wow I forgot how hot you can look” but that didn’t last long. We were in the living room and got into a fight about how he was being so shitty and I felt so alone in this pregnancy already. I was screaming and crying and hyperventilating because of him and he grabbed me and jerked me back as I tried to walk away and I turned around and smacked him. He picked me up by my throat, threw me in the couch, put his knee in my stomach and punched me until my lip was busted. My white shirt was covered in blood and we were watching his little brother while his mom was at work- he came out because he heard loud noises and all my ex did was throw a blanket at me and tell me to “hurry and clean myself up.” After I went into the bathroom and did just that, I went into the back room where I knew the door could lock. I locked the door and laid in the floor and cried in silence for an hour. He came and knocked a few times demanding I let him in and I didn’t respond. That only made him more angry- he picked the lock and came inside and immediately started kicking me as I laid in the floor. “You got me fucked up thinking you can lock me out of a room in my own house you dumb bitch” I responded with this isn’t even your house and that only made him more mad. He got on top of me, sitting on my stomach once again, and began jamming my face repeatedly into the floor. He jerked me up by my arm and forced me to go into the living room and watch tv with him. That was strike one.

Things began to change after that incident. I couldn’t believe he would do be like that knowing I was sick and in pain and PREGNANT with our child. It baffled me. After that however, he really was kissing my ass. Bringing me food constantly, trying to rub my feet, being all lovey and kissey and trying to hold me all the time. But it really didn’t last too long.

We finally got an air mattress and were sleeping in our own room with a door and not in the living room. We started having sex again here and there of course. But I was still a gross whore remind you, and that baby probably wasn’t even his because I’m such a slut.

One night I wanted something from the store so we went to Kroger. We got into a fight about money and as we were pulling into the garage he said I was being such a cunt and that he should beat the fuck out of me for it. I got out of the car and said oh ok you’re going to just keep beating up on a pregnant woman ok do it then. And he came running around the car and pushed me as hard as he could. I remained calm and tried to get the bags out of the car, that’s when he slammed me shut into the door while calling me a few names so I smacked him in the face. But that only makes him hit me harder. He punched me in the face so hard my glasses flew off my face, he picked me up and threw me on the ground and then stormed inside. I lay there for only a few seconds before he came back outside and picked up my glass and picked me up and tried to be nice. His mom came outside and said what is going on. Of course he said, “I hit her because she hit me first!” I just stormed past the both of them into the back room and locked the door and laid there crying. I didn’t leave the room for almost two days. I laid there praying for god to just give me a miscarriage from him hitting me. So then I could just leave and have nothing of him. I prayed that he just take me and my child off this earth. But, nothing happened. That was strike two.

He didn’t come in the room either. His mom finally asked me to unlock the door so I did and of course he immediately came inside. We sat on the air mattress and I told him that I did not want to be with him anymore. He began gaslighting me saying that I had a fucked up perception of reality on what really went down and I just kept saying no I know what happened. No matter how long he laughed at me or called me stupid and dumb I knew what happened and I wasn’t going to let him make me doubt myself. I finally told him that I was leaving and I didn’t ever want him around me or my child. Well, guess what? Another reason to hit me. I tried getting up off the bed but he grabbed me by the hair and threw me back. He mounted on top of me with his knees on my arms, butt on my stomach and his hands free. He began hitting me as hard as he could in the side of my head. Left side, right side, left side, right side, until he stopped for just enough time for me to scream. He immediately covered my mouth so I couldn’t breathe. His mom came busting in the door and demanded he get off me but he wouldn’t. So she threatened to call the cops and that’s when he decided he would get off, but not before he spit in my face. His reasonings this time were “she said I couldn’t see my kid” This was strike three.

After that something in me changed. I began to look at him completely different. I saw all his flaws. His nose breathe didn’t smell good anymore. His touch made me sick. His body smelled like hate. His voice made me cringe. When I knew he came home from work I would get sick to my stomach and immediately become on pins and needles with anxiety. I began planning my escape. During the time I was locked in the room he left my old phone in there on accident. I kept it, hid it and made it mine again. I kept it hidden for weeks and began communicating with my family again. I began talking to anon ppl in domestic violence hotlines. I began doing a lot of research. On shelters, therapists and just anything I could to help me. I kept it all a secret and just played nice.

Until I found out he had cheated on me in Virginia. The first week of January he was snap chatting other girls naked pictures, talking about sex- all while I was working so he had a place to sleep and food to eat that’s what he was doing to “get back at me” for being such a whore when we were broken up. After I found this out I told him I was leaving him. He did everything he could to try and get me to stay and I prayed and prayed for god to give me a reason to stay but all he did was continue to show me that I should leave. He began to stop talking to me before work or after. He wouldn’t come to bed until 3am most nights. And he got his own cell phone. I caught him watching porn and after that he began to sleep with his phone in his pocket. I knew he was cheating on me but he wouldn’t ever answer my questions so I quit trying. I quit talking to him, I quit acknowledging him. We slept back to back up until the day I left. The Friday before I left he went on a date with another girl from work. And admitted it all to me on Saturday and I left on Sunday.

He even had the balls to cry and beg me not to leave. Said he didn’t understand why I always left. That he was going to miss me and our baby so much. But then admitted to fucking another girl and then crawling into bed with me the same night. And his reasoning? “Well you said you were leaving anyways so what does it matter?” An absolute joke. As he told me everything and laughed in my face as I cried about it. I slept alone my last night in Atlanta. He tried to tell me goodbye and I didn’t say a single word to him. My mom finally arrived to get me and I left.

So here I am. Three weeks later telling my story. This was just the last time I went back-this abusive narcissistic person did this to me for three and half years. This was just during the beginning of my pregnancy. I knew I needed to leave because if he would treat me so bad, do me so dirty and hit me with a baby in my belly he would do it all with the baby around. Or worse, hurt my baby. And I could not let that happen. I could not be responsible for keeping my innocent child in such a dangerous environment. So I grew the biggest set of balls, bigger than my ex had, and I picked myself up and I walked away and I haven’t looked back.

I cry and I hurt and I ask a thousand questions I know I’ll never get the answer to. But day by day I’m learning to stop worrying over these unanswered questions. To stop wondering why I wasn’t enough for this person, to whom I gave my entire heart and soul to. Because it’s not my fault. It’s him. He is a narcissist. An abuser. An energy vampire. A sociopath. And people like that do not know how to truly love someone else, because they hate themselves. I’m educating myself on people like this and the more I do the scarier it becomes. Because he truly fits all the characteristics. All the fucked up things he’d say and do. The manipulation. The gaslighting. The cheating. The lying. The love bombing. The promises. It all makes sense now. It’s still so hard to accept because my love for this person was real. But the thing is that person wasn’t real. It was an image. A hat he could put on and take off, just for me. The person I essentially fell in love with was, myself. Because he mimicked the things I liked, or he listened to my fantasies and made them reality. It was all just a reflection of what I wanted and who I was, because he was only reflecting back my good qualities and wants back to myself to snare me. That was all just to cover up who he truly was- a vicious, abusive, empty shell that needs constant sustenance, support and domination to exist and thrive.

But he isn’t going to use me for that anymore and he damn sure isn’t going to use my baby. God gave me this child to save myself, otherwise I would have continued to go back and forth until he eventually did kill me. And that was not in my story. I have a healthy baby boy inside of me and he is going to be so so loved. I know he will meet his father one day but I know that he will see right through him. God gave me a son and my saving grace.

[arsnovac12]

Blog Post 1

I go on runs from time to time when I’m back in Burbank, I enjoy keeping active, but it’s mostly an excuse to get out of the house. When I come home on holiday, I become confined to my parents house without any means of viable transportation. I have my drivers license, sure, but no car. My parents can’t afford to buy me one, and I can’t afford to get one myself. In fact, even if I could afford a car, I certainly couldn’t afford the insurance to go with it. Anyway, all this is to say I go on runs so I don’t feel too confined to my house.

That’s not very interesting, is it? Some things just tend to be that way. The life of a poor twenty-one year old white kid is never all that interesting in the first place. My life, my story, whatever it is, is not irregular. In fact, it’s one most people in America know very well, because it gets championed whenever one of us poor white kids gets rich and famous. Surprise, surprise, it happens pretty frequently.

So why write about it? I don’t know. Does it really matter if no one sees it in the first place? Maybe not. I guess I backed myself into a corner. If you’re reading this (if anyone is reading this) you’re probably expecting me to dive further in. Ultimately, you might say, there’s no point in agonizing over whether or not you’re going to talk about your life, because you already started writing a blog post about it, and it has to go somewhere. It does, doesn’t it? So why start with a lengthy preamble full of rhetorical questions? Besides being a clear literary crutch I’m struggling with, I think I feel indebted to having a conversation or dialogue about these things, as if to hide from some private guilt I have in telling any personal story. Writing has clearly become some sort of therapy to me, where I play both doctor and patient. The results are always inconclusive.

Anyway I should get back to the bullshit lede about running. Look, I like running, and it’s when my head is its most clear, so forgive me for using it as a starting point. Most of my ideas come to me when I run, so it was only fitting that it become the brief anecdote that starts a blog post that holds the kernel of what I’m going for. Which, now that I’m thinking about it, I didn’t really get to. Look at me, whining before I even finished my “insignificant thing is contorted into something profound” anecdote. Okay, I’ll finish the story:

I like to go on runs. I feel trapped at my house, and I like to get out. Anyway, whenever I run, I take the same path. It leads away from my house towards the park in the hills where people would take their prom photos back in high school. The path mostly runs parallel to the major streets and hits several large intersections on its way. In all, the run from the house to the park and back is about five miles. Yesterday, I reached the park and stopped for some water. This wasn’t irregular or anything, but I took my time and drank more that I usually would. Then, something compelled me to keep running. The hills in Burbank are filled with expensive homes, and near the top of the street, sort of tucked away, there’s a pretty large mansion that’s almost gothic in its design. Anyway, I guess it was my curiosity that drove me to keep going. To get a look at that mansion, and the others around it.

So, I kept running for another half mile or so to see this mansion. On the way up, the houses got larger and more impressive looking, and I was filled with a mounting sense of dread. Eventually I reached the cul-de-sac with the house on its end. Naturally the street, called Viewcrest if you can believe it, was the most decadent one yet. Their driveways were filled with expensive cars I don’t know the names of, carefully manicured lawns, and about ten security cameras lining every porch. I got closer to the end of the street where the imposing mansion was, but it was tucked away from the front and hardly visible. I didn’t get much closer than fifty or sixty feet. The drive way had a large black Hummer sitting in it; another, more psychological warning sign for someone like me to keep away.

I left pretty quickly after I got there. No one was out, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being unwelcome. Before I turned the corner and left the street completely, I had the strange desire for someone to come out of their house and scold me for even coming there. In this fantasy, would I stand my ground, or run away as is fitting for my station? My brain firing it’s typically small amount of synapses couldn’t quite make it that far. Instead, I was caught up in the swell of what righteous injustice such a thing should muster.

This story isn’t very interesting, I know. Nothing really happens in it and there isn’t much imagery to it, but it caught me off guard as I thought about it again today. I had the idea to write about the experience soon after it happened while I was still running, but I, ever the proactive one, put it off. In sitting down with it today, I realize how full of shit I am.

Before I go on, I’ll give a little more context for my life. As mentioned briefly before, I’m a poor white kid. My parents are loving if occasionally abusive, or maybe abusive if occasionally loving. We live in my (deceased) grandmothers house and can’t afford any necessary repairs on it to make the place livable. My dad lost his job about a year and a half ago that was going to take him to retirement, now he works at target. My mother is a hoarder, not to the extreme you may have seen on television, but certainly well beyond what the general society might deem as healthy. She works just enough hours at the Disney Corporation’s day care so that they don’t have to give her full time benefits.

Two of my adult brothers still live at home, crowding the house further. They could, should they allot their funds correctly, afford to have their own place, but my parents discourage that sort of thing. Coming from lower middle class families, both of them have really only known economic uncertainty their whole lives. To have their children live lives separated from themselves means certain uncertainty. Plus, when you don’t have the kids at home, there’s no one left to accuse of being a burden.

I, more than any of my brothers, struggled against my parents to have a normal life. For a while I was pretty damaged; my parents fundamental conservatism really did a number on me. I was a hateful kid, saying cruel things to people that didn’t deserve it. When I got to high school, it took a little while, but I became a better person. Still prone to bouts of selfishness, I began to try a little harder for things. I quit running competitively in high school to join the theater, much to my parents chagrin, and also started dating. Naturally my parents tried putting a stop to both.

By the time I finished high school, I had cut ties with most everyone that knew me there. By its end, I had partially realized that I hadn’t progressed all that much as a person and was still rather selfish. My assumptions that people did not like me were eventually proven correct when I had finally done something that had made me worth disliking. I receded further into myself, even more aware of my deepest flaws.

Eventually I made it to college where I became more depressed than I had ever been before. Towards the end of the semester, my mom ordered me to call after weeks of ignoring her. During that phone call, I told her that I wanted to kill myself. Horrified, she said that they could afford to send me to therapy, I said no, it would be too much of a hassle and it would get to be too expensive. She was relieved and thus the matter was settled and never spoken of again.

So today, I sit in my crowded bedroom in my decaying house (yes, there are rats now) and try and write a story, a true story, about how running in the rich part of town made me sad. So often I am desperately seeking a new lede, some way to ease into the story of my life, so I come up with the flimsiest ones imaginable as opposed to just starting from the beginning. I’m no one I tell myself, so why bother in the first place? No one will read it anyway. But so often, I’m met with the same dull idea that I have a story worth telling. The cynic in me is so embarrassed to want to explain away my life that it has to invent a dialogue with no one to justify wanting to tell an over told story. The poet in me wants to make something beautiful out of my life, and will find any excuse to do so in the most meaningless of events. The realist is here with you trying to make sense of these two voices.

I am obsessed with artifice. Look anywhere in my life and you’ll see it. I’m a theater performance major. I sit at home alone and watch movies that very few people like to gage some sensationalist position on. I go running by major streets hoping that someone, anyone from my past will see me and say hello. I run to the park I took my prom pictures at for the hope that some ounce of high school happiness will be absorbed back into myself, so that I can pretend I didn’t lose all my friends from those years by being selfish. I run further into the hills because deep down I know it might lead to something worth writing about. Only to now finally realize there wasn’t much of a story there to begin with. There, or anywhere.

Self pitying is probably what most people would call this. I’ll probably call it that too. Maybe it’s a cry for help. Maybe. Or maybe it’s a desperate plea for attention from an empty audience, because the author thinks that’s most poetic of all.

[nemesis-nexus]

Darkest Greetings and Salutations My Family, how is everyone? I am doing VERY well myself! I am currently staying in a 4 Star hotel in Germany where I will be until Friday before heading to Belgium and back to Amdsterdam! I hope everyone is enjoying the Full Moon and tonight's sermon! Full Flower Moon 2017 Hail Marduk, Wise Father who knows best in ALL situations, hear us! We know that life is a journey, not a destination and that journey can take us literally anywhere mentally, physically and/or emotionally. As we go through childhood we learn from all kinds of sources; our parents, our friends, our teachers and even clergy. Many of the things we were exposed were supposed to build character, but some things were also destructive and intended to erode us mentally and emotionally I until there was nothing left! We experienced several happy gains and we also experienced heartbreaking losses. All of these things were meant to steel our nerves and strengthen our resolve to move forward no matter what! The struggles faced as teenagers, often dismissed by adults which is why many teens stop talking to adults to begin with, were very real to us no matter how trivial they may have seemed to them or anyone else. These issues often included things like arguments with friends, not getting asked to the dance, not getting along with a teacher among other things. Failing to understand that these things, while not usually life-threatening, can be very emotionally charged and therefore can build or erode trust and the ability to open up, leads to a teen feeling there is no point in talking about things that are much more serious because who’s going to actually take the time to listen to them anyway ESPECIALLY if they have a hard time articulating their thoughts in the first place? While they may be young these days teenagers are also coping with a variety of problems including relationship issues such as physical and emotional abuse, sexual assault and even rape in some cases. Drug and alcohol addiction to deal with abuse of all types at home, bullying and other forms of social and peer pressure or to self-medicate in an attempt to mask mental illness issues such as PTSD, Anxiety, Depression and more serious ailments including Schizophrenia, Bi-Polar Disorder and even Body Dysmorphia so as to avoid being labelled “crazy” or “unstable” should they seek help. It's easy enough to spot a whiner because they can't ever STOP telling anyone and everyone who will listen about their problems, however, someone who is actually dealing with a serious issue such as Suicidal Depression or coming to terms with their sexuality are MUCH more likely to NEVER open up due to fear of being judged and stigmatized, instead they will act like everything is OK so as not to inconvenience anyone else. This often ends badly which is why it is necessary for society to evolve and cast aside the negative stereotypes regarding drug and alcohol use, mental illness, sexual preference and lifestyle choices, especially with teens because more often than not it is the SILENCE that kills them, not the drugs and alcohol or the mental illness in and of itself! Father we ask you to embrace all those who are fighting for their own survival and to hold on ESPECIALLY tight to those who are battling the enemies inside their own spirits that no one else can see! AVÉ SATANÍ! If we are lucky enough to make it to adulthood, that's when the fun REALLY begins. We get to know who our friends actually are per those who choose to keep in touch with us after graduating high school or if we make even the slightest lifestyle change such as coming out or choosing to party less. In many cases people drift apart and that's alright too as those who are meant to stay in our lives will find a way to be a part of them or if they wander, will eventually wander back. Those that aren't, won't and that's all there is to it! Also in adulthood we experience much more devastating losses such as foreclosure on a home, loss of a parent (equally devastating for a child), loss of a child and/or loss of a spouse. These things can greatly change a person's outlook on life if they don't have the mental or psychological strength to cope or at the very least a person or people to help them deal with the loss. Father we ask that you be with all those who are going through the motions of grief and loss, help them to push on through and emerge stronger in Heart knowing that their loved ones will always be there and in Spirit knowing that YOU will always be there and as such we shall never face anything alone! AVÉ SATANÍ! As we transition from our teenage years to adulthood we gain more technical freedoms such as the ability to obtain a driver's license, smoke cigarettes, drink alcohol and also to enlist in the military. When I think about the ages of those who are able to legally do any of the above, it makes me wonder who determined the logic behind them! I mean you can get your license at 16 but you can't smoke until you're 18; you can't drink alcohol until you're 21, but you can enlist in any branch of the military at 18. So you can operate a potentially dangerous machine at 16, you can smoke cigarettes and go to WAR at 18, yet you can't drink until you're 21? It seems to me that any ONE of these things has the potential to be fatal so why not just regulate ALL of them to 18 when one is a LEGAL ADULT, it makes more sense to me! Yet another part of life is trying to see it through other people’s eyes. When I think about all the children born with horrific diseases such as cancer, HIV and those born with severe mental and/or physical disabilities, I am reminded to always be grateful for my own health no matter what issues I may have because to see a child at 7 who is fighting for their life not only not give up but have such a positive outlook on life no matter how dire THEIR circumstances may be makes one realize that our attitude towards any situation can be what makes or breaks us and that we too need to keep moving forward with everything we have no matter how difficult! When I think of all the soldiers past and present, who were willing to sacrifice it all for people they will never meet, it reminds me that sometimes in life it is not only necessary, it can be VITAL to put others ahead of ourselves even if it means that life as we knew it may change forever! When people think about the military, more often than not they ONLY think about Washington and scandals such as Abu Grahib, they very seldom think of those soldiers on the front lines who enlisted NOT for the glory, the notoriety, the medals or commendations, but because they cared more about those they left behind than they hate those who they went to fight against! These soldiers more likely to suffer from PTSD, Depression and Suicidal Thoughts because of what they have seen including their friends and in some cases their FAMILY getting killed in front of them, things they may have had to do to survive and things they may have to do because they were ordered to even if the one handing it down ALSO knew it was the wrong move. In many cases when the by return stateside they face foreclosure on their homes, ridiculous wait times to be seen by a doctor, even being abandoned by their own family because their stress and anxiety issues became too much for them to handle. When I think about these losses they suffered it really puts into perspective my having lost my laptop recently because even though it contained a LOT of irreplaceable memories, I will most likely get it back, unlike these soldiers who were willing to give their lives to protect us and as a reward, lost everything they had past and present because unlike the Lost and Found in an Amsterdam train station, our government decided that they were not worth helping to recover! Father we ask that you guide all those who fought bravely in a war zone and made the ultimate sacrifice as well as all those who physically came home but whose Spirits were so ravaged that they couldn’t deal with it across the Great Divide to sit and feast at your table side by side with all the Warriors who came before! Let those who died in war be free of any confusion, anger and denial regarding their crossing and those who lost the battle in their own Spirits of any guilt that may have followed them back home and let them once again know peace! AVÉ MARDUK! AVÉ SATANÍ! Now is the time of the Full Flower Moon when the last frosts are melting away and all the beauty of Nature really begins to burst forth in the form of wildflowers, lush greenery, trees are near full blossom, animals rouse from hibernation and begin to seek out their mates and the hustle and bustle of the Natural World resumes activity at full throttle! It is during this time that we also need to pay attention to not only the Earth but the Sky as well! One of several reasons why the Human Race has devolved in many way us because we got complacent! We used to look to the Stars and dream about life beyond them, now we can barely sustain our own ecosystem! We used to be industrious and create ways to protect necessities such our water supply and our soil from being destroyed, now we are all to willing to dump toxic waste, coal mining and medical debris directly into the rivers and tear Mother Earth’s flesh apart with drills which have created a rise in seismic activity and compounding this by drilling in the water! Now more than ever we ALL need to wake up and realize that for all the fighting and squabbling over such petty issues such as religious differences and financial status, what are we really accomplishing besides expediting not only our own deaths Physical, Spiritual and otherwise? NOTHING. THAT IS WHAT. Let’s for the sake of argument say that everyone respected each other religious beliefs, THAT ALONG would save MILLIONS of people from being cast out by their families, tortured by their government and being marked for social persecution by anyone else’s church, temple, mosque etc... As for money, humans place so much value on IT instead of EACH OTHER that they allow themselves to be blinded by it! They oftentimes also use it as an excuse to treat others as though they were beneath them as well as demand preferential treatment, but what would happen if all that money were to disappear as though it were never there in the first place and they, unable to prove who they are because their entire Identity were erased, were forced to live as those they mistreated? People seem to forget that in this age of reliance on technology and with cyber crimes such as Hacking and Identity Theft becoming more and more common, a situation like that is VERY possible thus they need to step back and take a moment to understand that it is not and should not be the amount of paper one possesses that make should make them worthy of being treated like a human being but the fact that they ARE a human being no matter what their socioeconomic status is and what they do to pay their bills! Glorious Dragon who oversees All, the world is in need of a serious Spiritual Healing! It is beyond imperative that humans learn to balance technology with Nature as the two were never meant to be mutually exclusive, in fact the reason we have the intellect we do was so we would use it to utilize technology for the protection not only of Natural Resources but OURSELVES as well yet we have allowed our own egos, self importance and greed to overpower our better sense and the results of that corruption are all around us! Blessed Father Marduk, as I walked around Amsterdam, Holland and even as I sit here looking out my hotel room in Mönchengladbach, Germany I can’t help but notice the differences in the landscape, the verdant green of the trees and grass that are not ornamental but were never disturbed even as the cities grew around them and the quality of such things as a simple meal! I had some of the most delicious scrambled eggs I EVER tasted in Hoofddorp, Holland and what was it that made them better? Superior chickens? No. The fact that they’ve never been on antibiotics to fatten them up faster and they’ve never been factory farmed? Absolutely! The water is crisp and clean, even from the tap! It’s disheartening to know that our government allows our soil and water to be compromised and claims that it’s in the interest of JOBS and MONEY as though EITHER is going to matter if we are all DEAD due to the chemicals in our food! I think one of the reasons that people are so willing to let the government get away with so much is because it is easier to rant, rail and blame the government for the state of the country rather than take responsibility for their own actions, from electing the officials to office to the policies they make that we do nothing to stop because we are too busy being blinded by empty promises and official stories to accept reality! The reality being that the government doesn’t give a damn about the people and most governments never will! In fact it is my contention that 75 - 90% of politicians who run only do so to have power over the people, not to help the people in any way, shape or form! I think the other reason is because we have become so Spiritually disconnected that we allow things to happen here because we have been convinced that things will be better on the “other side” the problem with this is that in order to GET to the “other side” we have to DIE first so where does that leave us HERE while we are ALIVE? We are not here to trudge through life under someone else’s heel until the Reaper claims us, we are here to live our lives on Earth while keeping our eyes to the sky and our hearts untethered and boundless across the Astral Plane! We are here to grow and evolve with the Natural Order of things, not to remain stagnant, stationary and unmoving! When we disconnect from the Universal Qi or Energy that connects ALL life, the effects are drastically clear, we are unable to relate to ourselves nevermind anyone else. It is this disconnection from our own Humanity that leads to ignorance, fear, hate, violence, war, rape, abuse of substances as well as ourselves loved ones and can even cause nations to go war with each other! When we lose sight of what is really important in life, we lose sight of everything and that puts us and anyone who relies on us for guidance on a path of destruction that the higher up the political or social ladder a person is, the more potential that person has to create a situation that ends in mass casualties! Father Marduk we ask you to draw your sword and strike down all those who callously disregard their Natural Duty as a HUMAN BEING to safeguard our environment so that we don’t end up KILLING the very thing that is KEEPING US ALIVE! We ask you to rein down Justice upon those who would KILL in the name of shameless GREED, who would LIE, CHEAT AND STEAL from those who barely have anything as it is just to fill their own pockets! We ask you to raise your shield to protect those who are powerless against their abusers, who live in silence and oftentimes shame, give them the confidence to step forward and free themselves from their shackles! To cover those who are still fighting with honor and courage on the front lines so that they may come home alive and guide those who lost their lives across the Great Divide so they may take their rightful place at your side! To shelter those who physically came home from their deployment but are STILL fighting the war in their heads, help them find their way to themselves so that they may continue to live as a whole person! We ask you to Enlighten the so called powers that be as to who the true power is on Earth and that would be THE PEOPLE! On the same token REMIND the People who REALLY has the power and that would NOT BE the officials who NEEDED THEM to be elected to their offices in the first place! We ask that you continue to keep the watch over us as we continue to rise up and push back against those who would dehumanize any of us for the sake of selfish gain especially those who would destroy the ecosystem in pursuit of it! Mostly we simply ask that like you always keep the watch over us, help us to help ourselves as we continue to grow and evolve! Be with us as we find our way and aid others in finding theirs! Help us find the Door, but make us Walk through it alone so that we may become stronger and able to learn all lessons no matter how harsh or hard! In short we ask that you don’t change anything you have done as far as being our Blessed Father Satan, we only ask that you help us to help ourselves so that we may spring forth and stand tall like all the Flowers in your Garden! AVÉ MARDUK! AVÉ SATANÍ! “This bloody road remains a mystery... This sudden darkness fills the air... What are we waiting for? Won't anybody help us? What are we waiting for? We can't afford to be innocent! STAND UP AND FACE THE ENEMY! It's a DO or DIE situation! WE WILL BE INVINCIBLE! This shattered dream YOU CANNOT JUSTIFY! We're gonna scream until we're satisfied! What are we running for? WE'VE GOT THE RIGHT TO BE ANGRY! What are we running for? WHEN THERE'S NO WHERE WE CAN RUN TO ANYMORE! We can't afford to be innocent! STAND UP AND FACE THE ENEMY! It's a DO or DIE situation! WE WILL BE INVINCIBLE! And with the POWER of CONVICTION There is NO SACRIFICE! It's a DO or DIE situation! WE WILL BE INVINCIBLE! Won't anybody help us? What are we running for? When there's nowhere, NOWHERE WE CAN RUN TO ANYMORE??? We can't afford to be innocent! STAND UP AND FACE THE ENEMY! It's a DO or DIE situation! WE WILL BE INVINCIBLE! And with the POWER of CONVICTION There is NO SACRIFICE! It's a DO or DIE situation! WE WILL BE INVINCIBLE! Yeah (we can't afford to be innocent) Yeah, yeah (stand up and face the enemy) (It's a do-or-die situation) WE WILL BE INVINCIBLE! Oo-ooh, yeah, yeah (we can't afford to be innocent) Yeah (stand up and face the enemy) Yeah, yeah (it's a do-or-die situation) WE WILL BE INVINCIBLE!" -Pat Benatar ("Invincible") ZI ANA KANPA! ZI KIA KANPA! MAY THE DEAD RISE AND SMELL THE INSENCE! Etiamsi MULTA Et Nos UNUM Sumus Nos Sto Validus Ut Nos Sto Una! Semper Veritas, Semper Fideles, In Diabolus Nomen Nos Fides! AVE SATANÍ! (We Are ONE Even Though We Are MANY And We Stand STRONGEST When We Stand TOGETHER! Always TRUTHFUL, Always FAITHFUL, In Satan's Name We Trust! HAIL SATAN!) Ave URURU! Ave EA! Ave DIMUZI! Ave ININNI! Ave GILGAMESH! Ave ENKIDU! Ave TIAMAT! Ave ABSU! Ave MARDUK! Ave SARPANITUM! Ave SATANÍ! HAIL SATAN! HPS Meg “Nemesis Nexus” Prentiss